Happy birthday, Ian. You're going away for a while, aren't you? Studying abroad or something like that? Well, anyways, good luck, and I'll see you when you return home.
Ian had never considered himself to be a man of sentimental value, but something about Madeline's message made it feel like a crime to delete off of his phone. Plus, it was a reminder of what he had to look forward to when he was finally allowed to go home.
On the eve of his eighteenth birthday, his parents had revealed that it was time for him to 'broaden his horizons', as they had put it. In other words, they were packing him up and shipping him off to some posh school that he had no interest in attending. He knew this was because of his choice in career, but his parents had never viewed art to be anything substantial. They wanted him to pursue medicine, or law, or even dentistry if he was so inclined, anything but art. He never really understood their reluctance, especially since his father was an artist himself, and a successful one at that. Regardless, he had fought a losing battle and in the end, he found himself on a plane headed for New Hampshire with a one-way ticket to Dartmouth University.
"Hello? Do you got a name or not? You're kind of holding up the line." The lady working the Student ID desk was giving him an annoyed look, and it took Ian a moment to realize that he had, in fact, been spacing out a little.
"Right, sorry, Ian O'doherty." The accent that thickens his tone a little draws a peal of giggling from the group of girls standing behind him, and he rolls his eyes, taking his ID and his schedule back from the lady when it was handed to him.
"You'll need that to get into the dorms and the cafeteria, so don't lose it. It's a fifteen-dollar fee to replace lost or broken ID cards." She warns him, handing him a lanyard embossed with the school's logo.
"Noted. Thank you." He nods his head, stepping out of line and making sure he was out of anybody's way before he pulls the map to the sprawling campus out of his bag. Classes didn't start until tomorrow, and while Ian knew it was probably a better idea to go exploring, he couldn't find it in him to figure out the campus bus routes. When push came to shove, he would either end up in the right place at the right time or he'd have to miss class that day.
Feeling kind of lazy, instead of making the trek back to his dorm, Ian finds a nice quiet spot in one of the student lounges where he can pull out his sketchbook and pop in his earbuds without being disturbed too much. Lost in his own little world surrounded by The High Kings and the smooth lines of his pencil over his sketchbook, he doesn't notice the figure approaching him until they're taking a seat right next to him and rudely trying to see what he was drawing. Ian was quick enough to hide his sketch, casting a glare at the stranger.
"Uh, yeah, hello? Are you out of your fucking mind?" He asks, removing one of the earbuds from his ears. The man sitting next to him offers a broad grin, reaching up to push chestnut colored locks out of his face and reveal gold-flecked green eyes.
"Perhaps. It certainly ain't the first time anybody's asked me that question. I don't get to meet too many art majors in these parts so I was curious as to what you were drawing." He says it so nonchalantly as if that explains his behavior. Ian can't help but to only stare for a moment, blinking as he takes in the information.
"I- what? First of all, I'm a psychology major, not an art major, and you shouldn't just walk up to a completely random stranger and try to look at what they're drawing. If I wanted my art to be public, I would post it on the appropriate platform." He grimaces a little, and the stranger next to him tilts his head, a confused look crossing his face for a moment as he appears to be studying Ian for a moment.
"Huh, my apologies then. I could have sworn you were an art major. The name's Collin. I'm a microbiology major. This is technically my second year here, but I started a new major." He grins, and Ian can't help but wonder why the guy was still talking to him. He'd been hoping to make it through the semester relatively unnoticed.
"Not everyone with a sketchbook is an art major. It just happens to be something I like to do with my spare time. Now if you'll excuse me..." He trails off, shutting the sketchbook before standing up and gathering his bag up. He doesn't say much else after that, making a beeline for the exit of the building so he could start navigating his way back to his residential hall. He hoped, for his sake, that not all of the students here were like that.
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