Deja Vu Part 1/?
Another fic for my ‘table’. The prompt is ‘familiarity’.
Rated: T
Disclaimer: I don't own the O.C. characters or actors. This is a work of fiction and not meant to infringe on any copyrights.
Summary: It’s September in Berkeley, California. Ryan encounters someone from his past who will turn his freshman year upside down.
Unbetaed: (Because I don’t have one.)
I looked at the student card I’d been issued earlier that day. One lady had taken the picture while another had been asking me to confirm the spelling of my last name. The resulting picture was less than flattering- I look cross eyed and my mouth is open.
I’d get a retake if it wouldn’t be a hassle, but I’ll just be flashing this card when I go to the gym so it’s not really worth it.
I scanned a flyer about pickup soccer games at the Y and tore off one of the little numbers at the bottom. I bought a cup of coffee at the canteen and headed back to my dorm.
I was just killing time.
My roommate still hadn’t arrived and I’d been driving myself crazy sitting alone in my dorm wondering when he was going to show.
I’m hoping my roommate will be an easygoing guy and sharing a room with him won’t be a big deal. Sandy had regaled me with tales of the hijinks he used to get up to with his college roommate Rob, and I’m kind of excited to meet someone new.
I’m not looking for a replacement Seth, but I figure it will be a plus to like the guy if I’m going to be living with him for the next year.
After having the pool house to myself for so long it will be weird to share a space again- even at the Cohens’ new place in Berkeley I’ve got my own room, but I’m not too worried.
I shared a room with Trey when we were kids. I’m pretty sure my roommate won’t resort to Indian burns to get his feelings across, and even if he does I’m sure I can take him.
I could only stall for so long, and eventually I found myself back in my dormitory half reading the biography of Frank Lloyd Wright (a ‘going away’ present from Kirsten). It was almost four o’clock when I decided to go check out the gym to kill some time and some energy.
The lady at the front desk spent a long time scrutinising the picture on my student card- even holding it out at arms length close to my face in some sort of comparison. I guess I should be happy that she didn’t think it looked like me.
…
I met some people as I was leaving the gym- two guys and a girl. They’re first year architecture students too and we hit it off immediately.
I hadn’t been planning on much of a social life this year, what with Seth being on the opposite coast and Taylor in Paris.
I still kept in touch with Luke by email, and would obviously be seeing a lot of the Cohens, but apart from that I had counted on being a bit of a loner.
Still, it would be good to know some people in my classes and not have to eat alone in the cafeteria.
We ended up in the girl, Alana’s dorm watching some obscure foreign film that Taylor would have liked. It was after eleven when I said goodnight and headed back to Bowles Hall.
There were bags inside the doorway that I stumbled over when I entered, and the other bed was definitely occupied.
My roommate had clearly arrived while I was out. I didn’t wake him up- any introductions could wait until the morning.
…
The other bed was empty when I woke up and I wondered if my roommate had come at all, or if last night had just been a dream.
Rubbing my eyes, I turned on the bedside lamp- the other bed was made, but there were open bags on top of it. My roommate must have gotten bored unpacking and gone out for a coffee I decided.
I showered and brushed my teeth, wondering exactly how many guys I would be sharing the communal bathroom with, and how often it was cleaned. I didn’t have much growing up, but my mom had always kept the bathroom relatively clean, and I found the familiar smell of bleach comforting. Seth would have smirked at the irony of living in a sterile ashtray.
It was just after eight, and my first class didn’t start until ten so I decided to go for a walk and get a coffee. I grabbed my bag by the shoulder strap, swinging it clumsily off of the desk- knocking a framed picture off of the other nightstand.
I cringed when I heard the glass shatter- this was not good. Now I would have to preface the introduction with ‘by the way, I already broke something of yours’.
Not a great way to make a first impression.
I cleaned up the mess, wrapping the bigger shards of glass in newspaper and vacuuming up the rest. Kirsten had had the foresight to buy me a small Dirt Devil, something I wouldn’t have thought of. She likes to be clean too, even if she usually hired someone.
I picked up the frame to put it back on his night table. I looked at the picture, expecting to see either a girl, or a Norman Rockwellish family shot.
It was a girl.
A girl I recognized.
A girl I once had loved, but whose memory I had laid to rest.
It was Marissa.
…
I couldn’t concentrate in my first class, Fundamentals of Architectural Design. I didn’t even remember leaving my dorm and finding the lecture hall, but I must have done it since I was sitting in an aisle seat, beside Alana.
Mike and Adam, the guys I’d met yesterday, were talking animatedly, but I wasn’t paying attention to the conversation.
Alana nudged me in the ribs.
“Are you okay? You’re really pale.”
“Huh?” Her words had barely registered but the nudge had brought me back to earth.
“Are you okay? You look like you’re a million miles away.”
“Oh. I’m fine. I was just wondering if my roommate is back at Bowles Hall; I haven’t met him yet.”
“He didn’t come yesterday? That’s cutting it close.”
“He came later in the day, when I was at your place. He was asleep when I got back, I figured we’d talk in the morning but he was gone when I got up.”
“That’s weird. I would have woken him up last night, gotten to know him.”
I laughed in spite of myself.
“It’s different for girls.”
She laughed, shrugging her shoulders, and I thought about telling her about the picture.
But what would I say exactly?
My mystery roommate keeps a picture of my dead ex girlfriend by his bed?
I didn’t want to talk about Marissa and the accident, and I couldn’t really omit those details without the story losing its relevance, so I decided to stay silent.
The professor came in a few minutes later, a tall, thin man with curly grey hair- Seth in forty years. He started talking, but his words were just background noise to the thoughts that were racing through my head.
How did this guy know Marissa?
I knew she was probably friends with lots of people I didn’t know, after all, I hadn’t met her until I was fifteen, and she presumably had a life before then… but how many guys knew her well enough to keep a picture of her by their bed? It was a school picture, probably taken in eighth or ninth grade.
I had known her then.
…
The rest of my classes passed by in a haze of syllabuses and introductions. My mind was buzzing trying to answer questions that only my roommate could answer.
I declined an invitation from Mike to attend a playstation tournament in favour of returning to my room. I wasn’t going to keep missing this guy- we would meet and I would get some answers, and put my mind at ease.
There was an envelope with the UC Berkeley logo, addressed to Owen Taft lying on the other desk when I got back. I had gotten one too, welcoming me to the school and hinting that I should pursue extracurricular activities on campus (for a fee of course).
Owen Taft, man of mystery.
I planted myself in the desk chair and cracked open one of my new textbooks. Even after living with the Cohens, I had still felt guilty spending so much money at a bookstore.
I read the first chapter and made some notes, my eyes wandering to the clock between paragraphs. This guy had to come back eventually- and when he did I’d be waiting.
…
I was getting hungry, but I hadn’t moved from my post. This was getting ridiculous- I needed some answers. Now.
He came back a little after six.
He was thinner now, and his hair had been dyed blond, but I would have recognized that face anywhere.
Although I hadn’t thought about him in years, his brief appearance in my life had not been forgotten- filed away in a box I never planned on opening again maybe, but not forgotten.
How could I forget Oliver Trask?
…
I was in freefall.
I had stepped off the high dive and was waiting for the splash.
TBC
A/N: I'm not sure when the next part will be written or how many parts there will be in total, but I'm excited about writing something a bit longer than usual- maybe 3 or 4 installments. As always, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!