Chapter Text
The first week of university was a lot of ice-breakers, clutching google maps dearly trying to get around campus, and very brief conversations with people exchanging instagrams. It was also getting used to this new country, new city. You didn’t know anyone here and your family and friends might as well have been distant memories. Your mom worriedly urged you to make friends- and even a boyfriend.
“You’re alone in a new continent, you need to put yourself out there,” She had said over the phone. You’d responded in agreement, but added that it was easier said than done. And it was. You really did want to get closer to people, but it was impossible.
You lived in a large apartment-like dormitory with single-rooms, so there was a lack of proximity between you and your neighbours. For the people in lectures- most of them seemed so closed off. You had made a couple of new friends in a dance club you went to semi-regularly..
As the second week rolled around, you resigned yourself to a more neutral stance. You hold conversations with your classmates, but in knowledge that both you and them will absolutely never talk again after.
But, today, there’s some guy you don’t recognize sitting next to the seat you usually sit at in Psychology 100. You’re forced to sit next to him since he’s taking up the middle seat out of three. You put your bag down, and he spares the quickest side glance at you while you bring out your laptop to take notes. You take it as a slight annoyance that you’ve chosen to sit next to him, but the incredibly large lecture hall is already nearly packed full, so you hope he understands it'sn’t a purposeful decision.
“Good afternoon everyone,” the professor announces. “This is the second week and many new people have joined, so we’re going to be doing one last ice-breaker.” She clicks on the projectors and shifts to a discussion question. ‘What’s one thing people misunderstand about you?’
“Turn to your neighbour and discuss for…” the professor checks the wall clock. “5 minutes?”
What’s one thing people misunderstood about you? You weren't sure. How were you supposed to keep it light with a question like that? Before you can turn to the boy next to you, he speaks to you first. “I’d say the thing people misunderstand about me is how I really am.” He tells you in a smooth voice, contrasting his half-hazard demeanor.
Now that you get a proper look at him, you realize how captivating he is. He has long locs, and seemingly violet-coloured eyes that contrast his brown skin. He’s sprawled out on the seat, unlike you, upright and back nearly lifted from the chair.
“That’s so vague.” You remark jokingly, offering a friendly smile. You half regret it- wanting to disappear for a millisecond, fearing that you’ve gone too far with a stranger already. The relief reaches every corner of your tensed-up muscles when he smiles back at you, amused.
“Is that an insult?” He banters back, tilting his chin slightly upwards while staring at the projection boards.
“No, but it’s not helping me get to know you.”
He glances upwards at your face, as if he wants to check your intention behind the words. He has these thick, dark eyelashes like a doe. And a mischievous, playful gaze directed at you. You can feel your heart beat faster and your breathing feels pressured.
“What’s your name?” He asks in a relaxed, but interested tone.
“(Name), and you?”
"You want to get to know me, (Name)?” He asks, ignoring your question.
You widen your eyes at his continued reciprocity towards you. How do you respond to that? What will happen if you take it further? He meets your gaze and holds it there, and the two of you are having a weird stare off for a couple seconds.
“I would.”
“I hope you mean it.”
He pushes a fallen lock from his face, the gold ringlets glinting under the overhead lights. His head turns towards you, smirking.
Oh, oh. So he hasn’t been annoyed that you sat next to him after all.
“I’d mean it even more if I knew your name.” You tell him.
“I’m Jabber.”
Jabber, Jabber. Even his name is unique.
He seems to be waiting for something from you, for you to make the next move. Even though the rest of the lecture hall is loud with chatter, it's a muffled blur for you as you ponder your next words. You don’t have to, as he breaks the split-second silence with his own question. “You should answer the discussion question.” He says, lifting his pointer finger from the arm rest to gesture towards the projected slides.
You shrug, then pause for a moment to think properly. “I guess I’d say people think I’m a pushover.”
“When you’re not?” he says, raising an eyebrow in an intrigued manner.
“Yeah.”
He nods, pouting out his bottom lip in a somewhat reluctant agreement.
“You have a man?” He abruptly asks you, head fully turned to observe you again.
You try to conceal your startle at the sudden interrogation and shake your head 'no'.
“What’s your number, then.” Jabber prods.
You hesitate momentarily. He felt too bold, so forthcoming that it felt like a prank. But your reluctance only lasts a second, as you immediately type in your contacts in his phone. He intently stares at you, as though very amazed by the action of typing numbers into a messenging app.
When you pass his phone back to him he seems to analyze it for a bit, holding it in his hands like a precious artifact. You’re puzzled at his odd behaviour.
"Ah," he lifts his head to meet your curious eyes. "I hope it's your real number."
"It is!" you respond defensively. "Call me," you add. For some reason, you wish to reassure his suspicions.
He glances at you once more with an unreadable face, a kind of diffident mischief before looking back down at his phone.
You jump at the loud ringing noise of your phone and rush to turn it off inside your bag. The surrounding students stare at the two of you in disapproval before they go back to huddled discussions on their misconceptions. You look at Jabber and he has a sly smirk on his face, eyes twinkling with a sense of humour. You hadn’t expected that he would actually test you. You aren’t the type to give a fake number, and then stand on by while watching the other person figure out it's fake.
"Geez, I didn't think you would actually do it." You whisper to him.
"Hey," he says, raising his hands up innocently. "You told me to do it. Your wish is my command."
"Can I command you to text me tomorrow?" You ask tentatively.
"Of course."
Jabber: are u doing anything today
You stare at your phone, as you lay in bed on your stomach. He actually listened to your "command"? That was thrilling. You want to respond in some way that doesn’t reveal your excitement. You haven’t told anyone about this yet, not even your close friends.
You: Nope wbu
Jabber: i want to see you
He was so forward that it made you suspicious about his true intentions.
You: Why?
Jabber: i have a car
Jabber: we can go out of campus
He just totally ignores your question. He has a car? Where would you guys go? Never-mind all that, questions seemed to be pointless with him.
You: Ok we can meet at the general parking lot
Jabber: 👌
Jabber can’t stop looking at your response. The response he sends to your agreement to the date conceals the manic joy he is feeling.
He’ll have to drive into campus to pick you up, he lives outside, in the dense city- not like that is a problem. No, it’s a heavenly opportunity, a miracle. He’d do anything to see and be near you.
He’s noticed you since the first day of class. You were sitting in the middle area of the lecture hall, in the third seat of the three in a row. He hadn’t been planning on coming to the Psychology lectures, that was an elective for him and besides, Chemistry was more interesting.
But once he wants something, he isn’t willing to- no. He isn’t capable of letting it slip away. He needs to get closer to it. Closer to you. He needs to close that gap of intimacy between you and him. So he begins to come to those lectures every week. And this week was the perfect chance to sit in the middle seat next to you. He theorizes that you are a creature of habit- don’t worry, he is too, sometimes- Jabber predicts you’ll still sit in the same spot, and if he sits in the middle, there won’t be any space between the two of you. When you sit down next to him he can barely hide his anticipation, and allows himself to take a look at you quickly.
And when you are talking to him in class- smiling to him! It’s better than his dreams about you.
Then you gave him your number. With a smile! Again!
You’d told him you weren't a pushover, and he hopes that’s true. In fact, he hopes he will find that you are even meaner than in his dreams.
He dreamed of you a lot. He dreams of you on top pulling his hair, and slapping his face, and choking him out with your sharp nails digging into his flesh as he lays there in ecstasy. He dreams of being yours, he dreams of your warm embrace and soft voice, and now he is one step closer. Jabber just has to make sure he doesn’t scare you off, he tends to do that.
He’d told you your wish was his command. He wasn’t lying, or being some type of corny romantic when he said that.
Whatever you want him to do, he would do.