Date Published: 2025-12-11

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: John's next week gets a little complicated.

Notes: Up to page 008752.

Past Chapters: Parts I and II

The next week of classes things manage to turn around. After getting his feet under him, John starts to enjoy himself a bit more. The big thing is that he actually manages to talk to the cute blonde in his Computer Science class.

It happens on accident: he drops his pen, it rolls under her chair, and when he bends down to grab it, she bends down at the exact same time, and they both knock heads.

“Ow-shit-I’m so sorry!!” John blurts. The girl laughs, flipping her hair back.

“El oh el, it’s fine, I’ve had worse run-ins with pens,” she says, smiling at him. “Name’s Roxy. You’re… Egg something, right? Like you’re scrambled.”

John blinks. “Uh. Egbert. With a-uh-one G.”

“Eggbert,” she repeats confidently, like it’s settled. “Cool. Cute.”

He nearly combusts but manages to keep himself together long enough to sit back down. John tries not to visibly short-circuit, scribbling something useless in his notebook so he doesn't have to look directly at her. Roxy, apparently done pretending to care about the slide deck, leans over her desk and stage-whispers:

“Yo, what’s your debug strategy? Mine is ‘cry and pray to any god listening.’”

John snorts before he can stop himself. “Uh – I mostly just… hit run until it stops yelling at me?”

“Bold. Dangerous. Respect.” She nods like he’s revealed a deep truth of the universe.

When class ends, they walk out together, drifting with the current of students. Roxy talks the whole time—about the cafeteria’s cursed burrito bar, how her roommate leaves glitter everywhere, and how she once broke a 3D printer by “looking at it too hard.” John laughs more in five minutes than he has all week.

“So, uh, I know someone in the queer org here who literally will not shut up about your suitemate. Or I think she’s you’re roommate? I mean Vriska, like I’m assuming you’re the same Eggbert that Meri mentioned, and I know she’s sharin with Vriska. Anyways I was mentioning it ’cause her girl Terezi has been like, ‘oh my god sh3’s such 4 probl3m’ and complaining the whole week.”

John’s ears burn. The idea of Vriska having a reputation… that extends to other people’s dorms…
He tries not to imagine what stories Terezi has been telling.

“Uh. Yeah. She’s… around.”

Roxy raises her eyebrows and nudges him with her elbow.

“Oh, I bet.”

John flushes. “I… can’t tell if that’s threatening.”

“Oh, it completely is,” Roxy says cheerfully. “But in like, a fun way. You’ll see.”

John spends the rest of the lecture pretending to take notes while his heart ricochets around his chest. What could Roxy have meant by that? She bets… John tries to put it out of his mind until the end of class, when Roxy makes sure he has her number.

“Text me whenever babes.” She says.

After laughing that off, he barely makes it into the quad before someone hollers:

“JOHNNYYYYY BOY! HELP MEEEEEE.”

Maya is dragging a sofa across the grass like she’s in some kind of domestic-themed strongman competition. As John get’s closer he can see a series of increasingly discounted price stickers on the side.

“I got a deal,” she says, breathless. “And by deal, I mean the guy said ‘Please take it, it smells weird.’ You’re helping me haul it.”

He shouldn’t say yes. He can’t really do anything to help. Plus, there’s already a sofa in the suite so really, they don’t need it.

“Okay,” he says.

She calls him her pack mule the entire walk back, demanding he identify cardinal directions (“wrong, Johnny, that’s EAST, do you not FEEL the sun??”) and speed up on hills.

By the time they stumble into the suite’s common room, they’re red-faced and laughing, John hunched under the weight of the sofa like a gremlin.

Meri’s already there, curled up on the already existing couch in sweatpants and glasses, a textbook open on her lap. Her braid falls over one shoulder.

“Oh!” she says, closing the book immediately. “Let me help!”

The next ten minutes are a blur of near-disaster: banging into doorframes, Maya yelling “PIVOT!” like it’ll help, Meri steadying the top so it doesn’t tip onto John’s skull. They finally wrestle it into Maya’s room with a triumphant thud.

The three of them collapse onto the carpet, panting with sweaty, breathless laughter.

When John finally catches his breath, he notices something subtle—Maya and Meri leaning over the crooked sofa, heads close, hands brushing as they fiddle with a missing screw.

A joke turns into a story, which turns into Maya nudging Meri with her shoulder. Meri blushes - actually blushes - and nudges back.

It’s… cute.

John watches, heart warm and weirdly tight. He can’t explain it. Pride, maybe. Envy, definitely. Something softer, deeper, nameless.

Meri glances back at him with a smile. “Can you hold the light steady?”

He nods quickly, shining his phone flashlight at the hinge while trying very hard not to stare at how good they look together.

Once the sofa is fit into the common area, and a piece of  cardboard put under one foot to stop it wobbling, Maya flops onto her back dramatically.

“Ugh. My arms hurt. Hero’s reward time.”

She opens her drink and looks at Meri who rolls her eyes, and pats next to her on the couch.

“Come and sit down.”

She rummages in her backpack and pulls out a makeup bag. John freezes.

“No,” he says.

“Yes,” she says. “Sit still, pack mule. You earned a makeover.”

From the couch, Maya snorts. “Come on Johnny it’s a reward..”

“Exactly!,” Meri sings, already uncapping eyeliner. “It’s art.”

Before John can protest, she pulls him closer and draws a tiny, perfect flick at the outer corner of his eye.

John’s heart stutters.

Maya stands to look and tilts her head.

“Okay… but it actually looks good.”

John laughs much too loudly – but Meri beams, satisfied. She pulls him and Maya into a quick selfie, squishing their faces together.

“Perfect,” she declares, uploading it to Instagram with zero warning.

John’s already dying inside when the likes start rolling in.

His phone buzzes violently.

TG: eggbert got make-up now??
EB: it was a joke!!
TG: jokes become lifestyles bro
TT: Dave be nice. It seems John enjoyed it.
GG: aww that’s so cute!!! post a pic!!!
EB: absolutely not
TG: its on his roommates insta
TG: anyways I have different news

Dave sends a blurry photo of his roommate – a troll with short horns and, even while asleep, a scowl – holding something in his arms beside the two fish tanks.

TG: shrimp guy bought a snail.
TG: to “keeps things clean.”
TT: How aspirational.
GG: omg he’s starting a lil ocean family 🐚

John rubs his eye, but the eyeliner smudge stays put. He laughs.

John pockets his phone, still smiling at Dave’s snail complaints, when he hears muffled voices from Maya’s room. Curious, he wanders down the hall and pauses near the doorway.

Maya’s door is cracked open. Inside, she’s standing over by the mirror with her hands on her hips, frowning like it insulted her ancestors.

“This is crooked,” she declares. “Meriiiiii, it’s crooked and I’m losing my mind!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Meri appears beside her with a toolbox John didn’t even know they owned. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I am dramatic,” Maya says proudly. “But also, right.”

John knocks lightly. “Uh is everything okay?”

Maya spins toward him. “John! Perfect timing! We need… height.”

“I uh what?”

She grabs his wrist and drags him into the room. “Hold the mirror up a little. Meri’s gonna fix the bolt.”

Meri snorts. “Or we could put it on its side like normal people, but sure. Let’s use John.”

John crouches, bracing the mirror against his knee while Meri scoots beside him, fiddling with the loose screw. Maya kneels too, peering over Meri’s shoulder, hair brushing Meri’s cheek.

“You’re doing great,” Maya murmurs.

“You’re breathing on my ear,” Meri says, voice embarrassingly soft.

John glances up just in time to see them make eye contact, close, comfy, startled. Maya laughs first, but it’s gentler this time. Meri ducks her head, smiling.

“Okay,” she says quietly, tightening the last screw. “Try it now.”

John lets go. The mirror sits perfectly level.

Maya beams. “We did it! Teamwork!”

Before he can react, both girls pull him into a spontaneous three-person hug; Maya’s arms around his shoulders, Meri leaning in close. John freezes, heat rising to his cheeks.

They pull back.
Maya and Meri look at each other.
Really look.

“Oh,” Maya says softly.

“…oh,” Meri echoes, smiling a little too wide.

John suddenly feels like he’s intruding on something private, important, new.

“I – I’ll let you two – um – yeah,” he says, fleeing with all the grace of a startled goat.

Behind him, their laughter curls into the hallway.

Evening settles into something cozy. Maya puts on soft music through her speaker. Meri makes cocoa in mismatched mugs. They move around each other with an ease that almost startles John—passing spoons, trading jokes, touching elbows without noticing.

Maya spills milk; Meri flicks foam at her. They dissolve into laughter that feels bright enough to light the whole room.

John tells himself he should go back to his room and finish his reading. Instead he sits there, phone forgotten in his hand, watching the two of them orbit each other like it’s rehearsed.

Maya hip-checks Meri away from the stove. “You’re burning it.”

“I am not,” Meri protests, gently shoving her back. “You just think everything slightly warm is burning.”

“That’s because you cook like an old lady.”

Meri gasps, hand to her chest. “Take that back.”

“Nope.” Maya grins, triumphant.

Meri retaliates by stealing the whisk out of Maya’s hand. Maya yelps and lunges for it; Meri dodges easily, laughing, braid swinging. The cocoa sloshes dangerously close to the edge of the pot.

“Guys – uh – should I… help?” John asks weakly.

“No!” they shout in unison, then burst into giggles.

It’s embarrassing how good it feels, being included in their chaos—even if he’s not sure where he fits in it. They spill cocoa on the counter, argue over whether to add cinnamon, and somehow end up sharing a single spoon to taste-test like they’re in a cooking show with no concept of boundaries.

When the cocoa finally makes it into mugs, Maya hands John one with a wink. “Thanks for helping today, pack mule.”

Meri adds softly, “Yeah. You really did.”

John’s chest goes softening, feeling in a way he can’t name. They settle onto the couch together—Maya’s legs draped over Meri’s lap, Meri leaning back into her without thinking. The contact looks so natural it almost hurts to look at.

He sips his cocoa, sweet and hot and a little too rich, feeling like he’s watching something bloom right in front of him. Something he helped plant, even if he doesn't get to keep any of it.

Their laughter softens into something private. Their shoulders touch. Their fingers brush.

John realizes, with a tiny sinking feeling, that they’re not just close.
They’re gravitating.

And he doesn’t know what to do with the part of him that wants to be caught in that gravity, too.

That line between best friends and something deeper blurs right in front of him.

He swallows. Hard.

He can’t be here. He’s not – he’s not homophobic! It’s really just not – he just can’t.

GG: i just looked at the pics! theyre so cute
TT: They are rather nice.
TT: I trust the domestic bliss in your suite is continuing.
EB: what do you mean??
TG: bro you’re literally the third wheel.
GG: that’s sooo cute though!! suite family!!!
TT: John wants to be in the middle of that?
EB: no i dont!!
TG: sure you don’t.

John groans into his hands.

A new message pops up from Roxy.

TG: hey, u survive ur first cs homework?
EB: barely lol
TG: cool cool. we should study sometime. or gossip about vriska. whichever’s less painful lol

He stares at the message longer than he means to before typing yeah, sure.

He doesn’t know why his chest feels fluttery.

When he looks up, Maya and Meri have migrated to the couch. They’re curled together, cocoa mugs cooling on the table. Maya’s head rests on Meri’s shoulder; Meri’s laughing softly at something whispered in her ear.

They don’t even notice he’s there.

For a moment, John just smiles – proud, at least a little bit.

Then something twists in him. Strange. Sharp. He doesn’t have a name for it.

He slips into the bathroom. The eyeliner flick is still there, half-smeared, a faint shadow at his lashes. He wipes it off, then hesitates, staring at his reflection.

For a heartbeat – just one – he thinks he looks… right.

He blinks, and the feeling dissolves like mist.

He goes to bed with the hum of music drifting through the wall, Maya and Meri’s laughter fading into something soft and distant, and a hollow fluttering in his chest he can’t explain. Them being… a couple or whatever it is… it makes him…

He doesn’t know.