Light.

Fucking light.

If you've ever been as hungover as I, you know light is your arch-nemesis.

I squeezed shut my eyes, tight as I possibly could, but the pain in my head was too strong to go back to sleep.

With a growl of frustration, I fisted my pillow and pushed myself up. The corner of my laptop poked my ribs.

What time is it? I wondered deliriously. Was it later that night? That week?

One glance across the room told me that kid was still there. With the fluffy hair and the big brown eyes.

I figured he was my best chance at survival.

"Hey," I whispered hoarsely. I rubbed my eyes. Sat up. "Hey."

He looked up from his phone. "Oh, uh... hi. You're awake."

"I'm awake." I rolled off the bed to my feet and stretched my arms high over my head. The movement made my head spin. I looked down, my eyes slowly focusing on my untucked shirt. An unwitting smile crossed my face as memories of that morning trickled in.

Kitty.

"What's so funny?" a male voice asked.

The picture of my girlfriend sucking me off while I alternated between a beer bottle and a joint was quickly replaced by the present. An overheated dorm room. Plain, drab walls. And this annoying boy - freshman, most likely - staring at me from his bed.

I chuckled. "Nothing that would concern you, buddy."

He threw me a nervous glance and looked back down at his phone.

For some reason, my gaze lingered. There was something about this guy that screamed deer-in-the-headlights. He looked a bit like that Disney cartoon deer too, with his chestnut brown hair and splash of freckles. What was its name? Bambi. He looked like Bambi.

My roommate looked up again. His brow furrowed. "What?" he snapped.

I raised my hands in surrender. Alright. Damn. Bambi has teeth.

"Look, I'm just gonna-" I gestured towards the kitchen and stumbled across the room, moving in uneven jolts like a zombie. I winced as a sharp pain racked through my skull and gripped the corner of his dresser for balance. "Shit."

"Maybe you should sit down."

Through squinting eyes, I turned to look at him again. His arms curled around his torso, almost protectively, as if he were afraid I would attack him.

"Good idea." I tottered over and collapsed onto his bed.

The boy jumped. "The fuck are you doing? I didn't mean here."

I ignored him, drawing my legs up onto the mattress and burying my face in my arms again. My bed faced the window directly, so a harsh stream of light would be right in my eyes when I opened them. On this side of the room, the dresser blocked the window, making it nice and dark.

"Get the fuck up, asshole!" he yelled at me.

"Mmm," I mumbled.

"Get up or I'll throw you on the fucking floor!"

His squeaky little voice was beginning to annoy me. Hungover Michael was bad enough. You didn't want to mess with hungover, annoyed Michael. "You know what, try me," I grumbled, my voice low and gravelly. A moment of silence fell over the room and I smiled.

Sweet sleep, here I come.

Then I felt a hard, solid object collide with my head.

"Ow, fuck!" I shouted. My roommate sat there with a picture frame in his hands, eyes wide. "Did you just wack me with that? That's not even a fair fight, I'm..." What was the word? "I'm impaired."

"You're an asshole and a slob," he snapped. "What, you think you can do whatever you want? Come over and invade random people's space and they won't say anything 'cuz you're some big tough football guy? Get over yourself."

I frowned and looked up. "I don't play football, dumbass."

I had barely a second to shield myself before the picture frame slammed down on my head again.

"Fuck! Stop it!" I shouted. "You're gonna give me a fucking concussion!"

He raised his weapon a third time.

Finding a surge of strength in my weary arms, I reached up and grabbed the frame. He struggled a little, clawing to get it back, but after a moment I wrenched it from his grasp and threw it across the room.

It landed on the wooden floor and flipped over, the glass cracked.

I grimaced a little. The picture was of him and some girl. I almost felt bad before I remembered he tried to kill me with it two seconds ago.

He sucked in a steely breath, silent for some time. His voice came out as a low whisper. "Fuck you," he whispered, before standing and marching across the room.

I thought he was going to pick up his picture, but he headed straight to my bed. I watched with a sinking feeling of dread as he picked up my new MacBook and inspect it closely.

"Ooh, how nice," he said. "You won't be needing this, will you?" He stared directly into my eyes before letting it free-fall through the air. I felt the clunk as it hit the ground in my soul.

Demon.

"Oh, and if you'd rather stay over there, I'd be happy to switch beds." He gave me a sneering smile. "This one seems much nicer."

I scowled. The bed I was currently laying on was no more comfortable than a rock. "Fine," I said. "Just be quiet. I need to sleep." I let my eyes close peacefully and tried to think about nice things, like warm beaches and cheeseburgers, and not idiotic freshmen that tried to bust open your skull before the first day of classes.

"So, you just get here?"

I peeked open a singular eye. "What did I just say? Be quiet. Please."

"Just... making conversation," he said, tucking my sheets up around him. My sheets.

Oh, this bitch needs to go.

"Yeah, I moved back in yesterday," I answered.

"Back in?"

I smiled. Freshman. I knew it. "Yeah. This is my second year. I'll be twenty in December."

His eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh. I just- I just turned eighteen."

"Congratulations, you can legally make porn."

His face scrunched up at that, and he looked down at his phone. I chuckled to myself and closed my eyes again. Who knew it took a comment about porn to finally make this kid shut up. I rolled onto my back and took a deep breath, waiting for sleep to find me.

"So, like, it's just us then?" he asked.

Oh, for fuck's sake. "Yes," I snapped. "It's just us."

"This is a pretty big room," he commented. "Seems weird."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed shut my eyes. "Well, there was supposed to be a third guy but I think he dropped out last second. So I got stuck with you. And any other obnoxious freshman they might send my way if there's a switch-up. I'll apologize in advance, I'm kind of a nightmare to room with."

"I can tell," he gritted out.

"By the way," I said. "Your hair's cute."

His small lips opened like a fish and his freckled cheeks reddened. "What?"

"Your hair." I made a gesture to my own curls. "That little fluffy thing you got going on in the front. I like it."

"You're fucking weird," he said.

I rolled my eyes. Big mistake. The motion sent lightning bolts of pain straight to my brain.

I turned onto my stomach again and curled my arm around my head, keeping my forehead wedged in the crook of my elbow to block out any shred of light. It was about to be a long day tomorrow.

Not just that, I realized.

It was about to be a long fucking year.