"How the fuck did this thing even stay up so long?" I murmured as I removed the last of the adhesive tape from the corner of one of the many posters above my bed's wall.  A voice from the room adjacent to mine yelled  "Probably as trade off for the fact we could hear every conceivable sound from each other's rooms for the last two years." He wasn't wrong, no matter how much we tried to muffle up the various chewing, clicking or mysterious sounds each of us made, nothing could quite cover them up enough to not be a bit nagging.


"I'm not sure what the correlation would be between those two things, but I'll take whatever." I grumbled, struggling to rubber band together as many posters as I possibly could. "Shit, I hope they don't charge us for the paint chips I'm peeling off..." I shrug off the packing of my belongings sprawled across my bed as I creep across the living room to Eddison's, peaking through his half-shut door. "How's your stuff coming along?" I sarcastically ask, seeing that he hasn't moved from the spot at his desktop in the last four hours.

"Exactly how you'd probably expect" he said, unblinkingly staring at his brightly lit monitor. Eddison had been my roommate for the last couple years since we both were able to move out from student housing while attending the University of Chicago. We had met at a laundry mat  when we had both complimented one another's jackets and upon further discussion realized we were staying in the same hallway but somehow had never seemingly crossed paths. It was probably the first (and honestly last) organic interaction either of have had since we moved out to the area from our respective hometowns.

"You know, I get that you're expecting to hear something back today, but I think your time would be better spent getting your shit together rather than staring at your computer." I suggest playfully, allowing myself the rest of the way into his room. "Damn, dude. That entire sentence has been said verbatim from my mother living back home, you two been in cahoots or something? he shot back, swinging towards me in his swivel chair. 

"Yeah dawg, ya know me and Anna are tight as fuck, why ya acting surprised?" I said as I lunge myself towards his bed. Arching my feet up against the corner walls "Man, you never remotely decorated this joint and I'm just now noticing this."

"What for? I'm the only one who ever spent anytime in here..." he stopped himself halfway.  "Wow, that sounded way more self-deprecating and depressing than I intended." he chuckled.  I sat up, aligning myself with him. 

"Wait, you think that's people decorate their rooms? To impress whatever various hook-up attempts they have over?" I asked.

He glared towards me, "I mean, maybe that's an over-simplification of it, but you can't tell me you aren't trying to make an impression by covering every inch of your living space with 80's movie posters?" 

"Well sure, maybe I used them as conversation stimulators, but they are for my own fulfillment as well." I responded, coming off a bit more defensive than I intended.

Eddison crosses his legs in his chair as he puts his elbows up on his chair's arm rests. I could tell he was assuming the position he always does when we have one of our many infamous and pointless bantering sessions. "Okay, Charlie... when was the last time you saw Sixteen Candles? And really think about it..."

"Four... okay, hm.... maybe seven years ago?" I cluelessly respond. I honestly don't even know if had been that soon since I last sat down and watched it. "What are you getting at though?"

"Dude, that movie is literally grade A-GARBAGE. Like it checks off the list of every shitty stereotype of what was wrong with 80's films and is probably the worst the Brat Pack had to offer, barring maybe Weird Science..." he rebuked, straightening up his posture. "It turns the lovable Anthony Michael Hall into a creepy sex offender and probably the worst racial stereotypes this side of Revenge of the Nerds, which you ALSO have you in your room, might I add. Those posters are 100 percent to cash in on peoples nostalgia"

"Wait, wait, you know what, I get it confused with Pretty in Pink, so you maybe right." I'm in the hot seat now, I need a redemption and I'm willing to aim low for this one. "Okay, but what about your recent obsession with hockey? You literally never expressed any interest in that until the last couple months and now it's all over your social media shit, pal."

He cracked his neck as he retorted"First off, I have ALWAYS had an interest in hockey, I just didn't dive in until recently... and second off, what does that have to do with anything with what we're discussing right now?"

"Everything, because we both know the only reason you started to post about it was to have an easy in with your Canadian pen pal and we all know Facebook is just the virtual version of a living space, they even call them WALL POSTS, like who you trying to fool?" satisfied with my response as I lay back across the bed.

Eddison gets up from his chair and sits on the end of the bed. He has a more serious expression on his face than before. "Wait, does it really come off that way? I mean, does it look like I'm kissing ass?"

I sit up, realizing that I may have taken a bit much of a dig than I wanted. "No dude, I mean, not really. And even if you are, it's sort of endearing really, like showing interest in something just cause a person you're befriending likes it is normal, ya know?" 

"Yeah, yeah... but I don't want to be like... THAT GUY? The dude who gets in his mid-twenties and starts all the sudden being into sports to have an easy in with all the other blokes out there." he scoots his back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling with a look of concern. "I just don't want to be reduced to a stereotype for the sake of social normality, you know?"

I immediately change my tone in an attempt to be reassuring. "Listen, everyone sort of meets others half-way when it comes to navigating the rocky trials of forming adult relationships. We're all far too busy with all the other bullshit in our lives to have to worry about what sort of first impression we make so we put up something simple and get to the real depths of each other later.  We sometimes think we're gonna be a Ferris Bueller, but end up being more like a Cameron Frye."

Eddison stands up as he begins to pace around his room and gather his small belongings "Yeah, it's just... it's so expected you know? I thought I had prepared enough for all this that I'd be able to circumnavigate these sort of things."

"My guy, we ALL feel that way, it's like, the same thing as trying to put on a facade for when you are about to start high-school or college. Adult-hood is just an extension of all that shit, you know" I stand up and and begin to help him clean.

Looking drained, he responds dolefully "What about us though? We had a genuine thing when we met, do you really think those are so rare or am  I just that socially inept that I've been riding the high of our initial interaction this whole time?"

I stop what I'm doing and put my hand on his shoulder "I can say no matter how many successful social interactions I have with people, yours will forever be in the top three or at LEAST top five."

He smirks as he tosses various items on his bed "Hold up, I gotta do this." he walks over to his closet and digs through what looks like an endless barrage of various clothing before slyly pulling something out.

"You still dig this thing?" he tosses it towards me. I instantly recognize the jacket, the same one he wore the day we met.

"Dude, it's a classic, this is something from like a... James Dean or Marlon Brando movie" I throw it back towards him.

"Meh, I'm tired of it." as he drapes it on my shoulder. Besides, I've seen your recent wardrobe choices and you really need all the charitable donations you can get." he grins. 

I sit back down on the edge of his bed, looking at the various placed patches on the inside of the jacket he's sewn on over the years. "Man, this is just so much dude. I don't know what to say."

He sits back and slouches in his chair. "You know, once we're all moved out of here and on our own paths, I say we make a genuine effort to meet half-way from where ever we are at least once a year... or at the very least have some major face-time chat" he laughs before looking a bit solemn again.

I begin to walk towards his door before turning towards him as he gets back to his computer. "Hey, remember how we use to Skype with whoever we were dating at the time and sync up movies with one another since we couldn't have the opposite sex in our rooms after hours? I say we make deal to at least do that with one John  Hughes movie once a year."

He spins his chair towards me "Dude, that's an amazing idea.. what should our first pick be?"

I shut the door halfway and then poke my head back in "Act like we ain't gonna shamefully enjoy every bit of Weird Science you stupid butt wad."