"What do you mean I'm getting an exam?"

I hide a smile at Bradley's perplexed face, his eyes widening in a funny way. Of course, all my training isn't going to go to waste, and I certainly am not letting Bradley forget what we worked on.

"Just a small midterm test to prove you aren't just using me for some mind game," I say reassuringly, though I do want to see him struggle with this concept of an impromptu exam that could "change his GPA" (or so he seems to think).

Sure enough, his whole world seems to explode around him, and I swear I can see the loading sign in front of his face. He's the type of person to care about one point lost on a quiz, and he surely wouldn't let me, especially me, get away with grading him on something I could give a low score on. Plus, it's not like we're always on the best terms.

After he gets over his initial shock, he approaches me on fast feet. "I will not be graded for something so informal. It's simply not heard of."

"I don't make the rules," I say as I hold up my hands in surrender.

He scoffs in disbelief, grabbing my wrists. "You quite literally make the rules!"

I laugh a little at his hurried voice. "It's just a few questions. No grade, I promise."

"Fine... I suppose I can indulge in your little test." He releases my wrists from his bruising grip and steps back with his arms crossed.

I think for a moment, remembering our past lessons. "Okay, question one. What is kindness?"

"What kind of question that?" he asks with a self-righteous scoff, which he seems to do a lot.

"Just answer it."

Bradley thinks about it, stroking his chin like some crazy mastermind and pulling at the threads of his soft sweater. Today's sweater was different; it's a stark green in contrast to the usual deep shades of purple he wears. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen him wear his magenta sweaters in a few days, which was strangely unsettling.

"Kindness," he says suddenly, drawing me out of thought. "Kindness is more than just a simple act; it's a gesture that resonates deeply within our hearts. It's the warmth you feel when a stranger holds the door open for you, or the unexpected smile from a passerby that lifts your spirits on a tough day. It's the gentle assurance of a friend's hand on your shoulder when words aren't enough to convey their support. Kindness is supporting someone you care about."

I'm taken aback by the emotion in his profound explanation. "What, when did you get to be so emotionally intelligent?"

"Don't get used to it," he snaps at me, "I was just answering the question."

"Well, based off your response, I guess I only have one more question."

"What is it?" he demands impatiently. "I simply must know so that we can get this over with."

I try not to look nervous as I ask. "Do you want to skip class and go hang out at the lake?"

He seems to consider it, eyeing me up and down judgmentally. "...Sure. As long as it's not to smoke or anything because I value my lungs."

"Of course not," I say with a laugh. "Now, come on."

~*~*~

Splash.

I watch as the grey rock Bradley skipped sinks into the cold, still water of the greenish-brown lake. He stares at it as well, seemingly in deep thought as he runs his thumb over another rock in his hand. I can see the tranquility he feels at this moment in his deep brown eyes, and there's a sort of innocence behind them that I saw with the yellow butterfly.

A paddleboat of three people putters by, causing small tremors in the water and halting the movements of the next rock Bradley throws. He hums in distaste, and I hold back a small giggle at his childish disappointment. Though he's older than me, Bradley can emanate the entertaining energy of a puppy.

"Where's your purple sweater?" I ask abruptly, the question so pressing that I couldn't help but blurt it out.

He takes a moment to glance over at the retreating boat before looking back at the water. "The color. It bothers me now."

"Bothers you...?"

"It reminds me too much of my past with the Gammas," he says, finally making eye contact. "I don't feel like being associated with them anymore, considering it is their representative color."

There's a silence, but it's not awkward. Contrastingly, a tension feels like it's been lifted by Bradley's choice to open up. A satisfied expression spreads across his face as he breaks his rock skipping record.

"Can I ask another question?" I say, looking at him curiously.

He takes in my face and a smirk plays on his lips. "Can't get enough of me, huh? Go on, ask away."

"Do you really live in your car?"

As quickly as the smile appeared on his face, it drops along with the next rock in his palm. He clears his throat and runs a hand along the side of his head. I notice the reluctance in his voice as he speaks.

"Yes, for now."

Before I can stop myself, the question falls out of my mouth. "Do you need somewhere to stay?"

"Er... yes." He seems a bit hopeful in his tone.

"I have an extra bed in my room, no roommate." I look to him for his next reaction.

"You would do that?" he asks, as if he'd never experienced a lick of human compassion.

I smile softly at him. "Like you said, kindness is supporting someone you care about."

There's a moment where I think he's going to beam back at me, but he shoves me gently with a playful roll of his eyes. "Don't get all mushy on me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

~*~*~

"Wow, you packed up fast." I glance around at the boxes on the floor of my dorm- our dorm- as Bradley brings his last few ones in.

"It doesn't take long when you've got it all ready to go at your parent's house," he says blandly, dropping the boxes with a heavy thud.

I walk over to the naked mattress across from my own bed. "This is your bed. Don't worry, there's no, like, bedbugs or anything."

Unsurprisingly, Bradley turns away for a second then faces me with bedbug spray in hand and a surgical mask on his face.

"They're always lurking when you least expect it," he mutters, his voice muffled in his mask as he approaches the empty bed, and he extends the spray bottle tensely toward the mattress.

"Have fun," I say weakly, backing out of the room and into the dormitory hallway.

I only asked him about three hours ago to move in with me, and I already regret the decision. Having someone well-versed in the language of spick-and-span like Bradley as a roommate is something I've never done, my friends mainly being immature boys or girls who simply did not want to live with a 19-year-old boy. Now, I'd be living with a 23-year-old man who didn't have time for nonsense.

Suddenly, an idea comes to mind- a possibly friendship-changing idea. 

I could sneak into Brewtiful Day while Mr. Clean is busy sweeping the perimeter for germs and finally see once and for all what he's hiding!

I glance around, as if someone could hear my thoughts, and make a break for it. Depending on how thorough Bradley is, I may just have enough time. I make it across campus eventually and spot the coffee shop sign in its bold, blue letters.

The spot behind the counter is empty, which doesn't strike me as strange, but it's definitely something to look into- especially since the shop is open. I open the front door slowly, as to not set off the chiming bell at the top, and after cautious actions, I finally make it inside.

Voices come from the back, and I instantly recognize Nico's deep voice cutting through the others'. 

What am I doing? Am I crazy?

Yes, you are.

Shut up.

No, you- am I really talking to myself?

I snap out of thought, wanting to actually focus on the mission at hand. Approaching the blue curtain, my hands tremble in excitement and fear as they reach out to make a small peeking gap in the length of fabric. Am I really doing this?

Slowly, I move my head to glance into the tiny gap I created. Nico immediately appears in my sight, as do a couple other young guys, and they seem to be just hanging out.

Well, that is until I see Nico handing one of them something in exchange for money.

Leaning in to see better, I accidentally fall into the curtain, bringing it down with me when I collapse to the floor. My knee collides with the ground, and I yelp in pain, my injury feeling more unbearable now than usual. Nico curses loudly, and I hear the other guys scramble for the door. In a panic, I pick up the blue curtain and wrap myself in it to conceal my identity as I run away from the scene.

I limp all the way to the dormitories and down the hall until I get to my dorm. As I burst into the room with a curtain wrapped around me, Bradley's head snaps up from his spray-covered bedframe and widens his brown eyes at my state. 

"What on Earth-" he begins before I cut him off.

"I... uh... I thought this curtain might be a nice addition to the, uh, the room, but I changed my mind."

His gaze travels to the curtain, which is now in my hand, and I chuck it aggressively into the hallway before performing a one-eighty turn to face Bradley with a nervous smile.

"I see..." He eyes me suspiciously, his voice slow and deliberate. The mask covering the lower half of his face doesn't help with his ominous tone.

"H-how is the cleaning coming along?" I ask with the secret desperation of a subject change.

Bradley goes back to his gruff demeanor and gestures to the bedframe. "Almost done cleansing this bed. Yours is next."

I cross my arms and shake my head. "No, you're not spraying my bed with that... toxic cleaner."

He rolls his eyes, shifting his wait onto his back foot in a way that makes his chest puff out. "Oh right, I forgot you're a pest, and one whiff will kill you... speaking of, do you mind if I spray you with this?"

"First of all," I say, pointing at him accusingly, "Spraying me with that won't kill me. Second of all, you're absolutely not touching my bed!"

He removes his mask and tosses it on the nightstand. "Fine. I didn't want to touch it, anyway. Who knows how often you wash your sheets?"

The argument goes on for another hour or so until we both finally decide to stop acting like dumbasses and go to bed.