[ When he'd chosen to come to New York School of Design, it'd been 1) because it was in New York, where he was close to already 2) they had interesting specializations. Mostly it was that it was local. Arthur already has an undergraduate degree in fashion merchandising, being much more interested in the business side of things rather than the actual creation.
But, he was a curious sort and never liked to have too much downtime on his hands. So he'd applied for the menswear specialization after painstakingly putting together a portfolio (it'd been so long since he'd done anything of the sort). Fast forward to months later and he's got his student housing all sorted out. It's not a dorm really, more of an in-between of a dorm and a real life apartment. But cheaper (thank god). He didn't luck out and get a single, but that was fine. Arthur was okay with people. And he didn't plan on being in the room much, more focused on getting those studio hours in on the machines and dress forms.
He's in the middle of unpacking his clothes, carefully hanging shirts and slacks in the closet he's claimed, when he hears the front door open, mostly likely letting in his new roommate. A pressed pair of pants hangs over his forearm as he peeks out of the room, waving a polite hello to the newcomer. ]
[ True to his word, at eighteen Uryuu flew. The farther from Ryuuken, the better. Though it might have gotten him next-to disowned to forsake a medical path and apply in secret to schools across the world, for Uryuu, it was essential. A matter of survival. It had already been years since he last asked that man for a yen. Astronomically foolish, with a measure of stupidity that man had somehow underestimated his capacity for -- he'd heard it all.
He didn't care.
Or about the utter unavailability of scholarships for this avenue of study. Foreign students were too appealing as sources of revenue. Few wanted to give a loan to a student without a parent's backing, but at high enough interest rates, even the most cautious looked away. Add to that visa wrangling to permit working an arguably illegal number of hours at an assortment of jobs, and really, it was astronomically stupid.
Not with the trouble by any account.
Only, Uryuu thrilled for it, a yearning long buried in his blood, able here to breathe.
Thoughts of devoting his every hour to the Fashion Design track, of students modeling his clothing; these were dreams within his grasp. Even having to share an apartment for sheer practicality--Uryuu wasn't okay with people--couldn't dampen his mood. After all, though antisocial at best, he knew he would be far too busy for prolonged interaction.
His frugal, already separating life had fit into a small suitcase, wheeled now as he unlocks the door. It does surprise him to hear life, to see the light. Both travel and his nature had made him this early. It's unusual to be beaten in that. Uryuu blinks, and instinctively begins to bow, before stopping himself a quarter through it. Instead, delayed, he lifts his hand.
At least his English is good. ]
Hello.
[ ...and since his being here means, yes, obviously he also decided to come early, he just doesn't answer that. He did, however, receive some basic information about his roommate, enough to, while slipping off his shoes and shutting the door, conjecture the equally obvious. ]
Arthur?
[ It feels too familiar, and he almost grimaces for that, but Americans don't use suffixes. Even if this guy is older, he isn't going to call him Mr. Smith, either. ]
The thought clicks in his head as Ishida seems to get halfway through a bow and then abort the motion, opting for a hand wave instead. Arthur makes no mention of it and nods politely in greeting. It was already stressful enough, he's sure, flying all the way from Japan to New York. The cultural differences were likely to pick themselves out and he wasn't going to add to the pile. ]
Yeah. What would you prefer? [ There's about a million rules to addressing someone else in Japan, this he knows. Whatever Ishida decides, he'll go with. ]
[ Prefer? Smith-san and Ishida-kun is the only proper answer, given their respective ages and programs. But whatever his rigidity, it must bend in America, and it would be unreasonable to expect his roommate to use Japanese suffixes here. Don't stand out. Not like this.
But he walks back his aversion to Smith, though he's used Arthur. Surnames can't be too out of place, and he doesn't know that he could stand Uryuu without crawling in his skin, as though the words crowded him close, a smothering. ]
Actually... Ishida. Do you mind if I use Smith?
[ ... ]
It's a little rude.
[ Admitted, uncertainty flickering, because he doesn't intend to be, but given names would far exceed it. ]
[ Well, he told himself that whatever Uryuu wanted to use, he'd be ok with. Except then he's being called by his last name and it's so left field he inwardly cringes. More to the point, he would never know if he was being addressed.
So maybe he'll just renege on that right away. It rankles, since he's usually accommodating, goes with the flow easily and course corrects if there's any small bump.
But, this was long term. May as well have it right from the outset. ]
Actually, Arthur is fine. My dad went by Smith, so it feels...odd. [ He gives Ishida an approximation of an apologetic glance. Nothing too meek but getting the point across. ]
Need any help unpacking? [ An easy subject change, something that didn't highlight their cultural differences. ]
[ Just like that, it's awkward. Not terribly, but enough. Should have, but didn't. He's well enough accustomed to social chafing to recover, and Smith, Arthur, insists firmly, but with fine manners. Nothing to fault but his own presumption.
Uryuu nods, then glad of the change, but the subject's as odd. It may not be cultural, but it's unthinkable to him. His eyes drop to his bag, the more than manageable size of it, before returning to Arthur's.
Not entirely successful at wringing out blunted confusion. ]
No.
[ ... ]
Thanks.
[ ...he does really need to do better than this, given, roommates. Uryuu takes a step, case rolling. Pauses, trying. ]
[ At this point, he can't tell if Uryuu is shy or just. Not good with people. He'll give him a little more time (and observation) before he makes any hard decisions.
Still, he can't help the slight eyebrow raise that happens when Uryuu looks down to his bag and then back again. That's it, that has to be all his belongings. Well, he's a light packer at least, something he can appreciate. ]
All my personal things, yeah. Place comes with furniture and I brought dishes; I left them alone in case you wanted input.
[ Arthur nods towards the nearby kitchen and the cramped living area that adjoins it. There's a couch, a chair, a coffee table, side table, and some weird floor lamp that's all backed against the wall. In the kitchen, dishes and cups are set out on the island, ready to be placed away. ]
[ Dishes. He thinks of the single plate, cup, and bowl in his bag, the few pairs of chopsticks and other assorted, limited utensils. Even before he'd moved out of Ryuuken's house, it had been difficult to think of anything within it as his, even as shared. After his mother died, he'd felt more and more like a visitor, and an unwelcome one at that.
It will take some adjusting, he can see -- more than he'd appreciated when opting for cost efficiency. Living with another person. Even if they rarely see one another. Close quarters and shared amenities. Practical adjustment as well as semantic, conceptual.
He's been on his own for so long, confronting the facts of company, the visible evidence of it -- his gaze following that nod, absorbing the provisions both provided and bought -- feels akin to the shock of a heated interior, when stepping in from the cold. ]
I don't have any input.
[ He hadn't thought to, doesn't know where to begin. But -- he can guess at the proper question, or one of them. It isn't one he wants to ask, exposing his total ignorance in this area, but better to be vulnerable than rude. ]
[ Shock seems to pass through Uryuu and Arthur has to remember that this is probably his first time really out on his own. Even if he was independent-minded, he was a few years younger, coming to school fresh.
It's also probably his first time living with anyone outside of the family. He stops himself before he tries to analyze any further. They'd just met. Shrugging, he smiles a little, attempting friendly even if his default is somewhere closer to impassive. ]
Alright, I'll let you know where I decide to put them.
[ And now it's his turn to be shocked. Arthur's eyebrows go up a fraction and he waves off the question. ]
Don't worry about it. I was living close by, before. Just brought things I liked. [ A beat. ] Room's this way– took one of the closets already; just let me know if you need me to move anything.
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the college au no one wanted // ishida + arthur
But, he was a curious sort and never liked to have too much downtime on his hands. So he'd applied for the menswear specialization after painstakingly putting together a portfolio (it'd been so long since he'd done anything of the sort). Fast forward to months later and he's got his student housing all sorted out. It's not a dorm really, more of an in-between of a dorm and a real life apartment. But cheaper (thank god). He didn't luck out and get a single, but that was fine. Arthur was okay with people. And he didn't plan on being in the room much, more focused on getting those studio hours in on the machines and dress forms.
He's in the middle of unpacking his clothes, carefully hanging shirts and slacks in the closet he's claimed, when he hears the front door open, mostly likely letting in his new roommate. A pressed pair of pants hangs over his forearm as he peeks out of the room, waving a polite hello to the newcomer. ]
Hey. Decided to come early too?
no subject
He didn't care.
Or about the utter unavailability of scholarships for this avenue of study. Foreign students were too appealing as sources of revenue. Few wanted to give a loan to a student without a parent's backing, but at high enough interest rates, even the most cautious looked away. Add to that visa wrangling to permit working an arguably illegal number of hours at an assortment of jobs, and really, it was astronomically stupid.
Not with the trouble by any account.
Only, Uryuu thrilled for it, a yearning long buried in his blood, able here to breathe.
Thoughts of devoting his every hour to the Fashion Design track, of students modeling his clothing; these were dreams within his grasp. Even having to share an apartment for sheer practicality--Uryuu wasn't okay with people--couldn't dampen his mood. After all, though antisocial at best, he knew he would be far too busy for prolonged interaction.
His frugal, already separating life had fit into a small suitcase, wheeled now as he unlocks the door. It does surprise him to hear life, to see the light. Both travel and his nature had made him this early. It's unusual to be beaten in that. Uryuu blinks, and instinctively begins to bow, before stopping himself a quarter through it. Instead, delayed, he lifts his hand.
At least his English is good. ]
Hello.
[ ...and since his being here means, yes, obviously he also decided to come early, he just doesn't answer that. He did, however, receive some basic information about his roommate, enough to, while slipping off his shoes and shutting the door, conjecture the equally obvious. ]
Arthur?
[ It feels too familiar, and he almost grimaces for that, but Americans don't use suffixes. Even if this guy is older, he isn't going to call him Mr. Smith, either. ]
no subject
The thought clicks in his head as Ishida seems to get halfway through a bow and then abort the motion, opting for a hand wave instead. Arthur makes no mention of it and nods politely in greeting. It was already stressful enough, he's sure, flying all the way from Japan to New York. The cultural differences were likely to pick themselves out and he wasn't going to add to the pile. ]
Yeah. What would you prefer? [ There's about a million rules to addressing someone else in Japan, this he knows. Whatever Ishida decides, he'll go with. ]
no subject
But he walks back his aversion to Smith, though he's used Arthur. Surnames can't be too out of place, and he doesn't know that he could stand Uryuu without crawling in his skin, as though the words crowded him close, a smothering. ]
Actually... Ishida. Do you mind if I use Smith?
[ ... ]
It's a little rude.
[ Admitted, uncertainty flickering, because he doesn't intend to be, but given names would far exceed it. ]
no subject
So maybe he'll just renege on that right away. It rankles, since he's usually accommodating, goes with the flow easily and course corrects if there's any small bump.
But, this was long term. May as well have it right from the outset. ]
Actually, Arthur is fine. My dad went by Smith, so it feels...odd. [ He gives Ishida an approximation of an apologetic glance. Nothing too meek but getting the point across. ]
Need any help unpacking? [ An easy subject change, something that didn't highlight their cultural differences. ]
no subject
Uryuu nods, then glad of the change, but the subject's as odd. It may not be cultural, but it's unthinkable to him. His eyes drop to his bag, the more than manageable size of it, before returning to Arthur's.
Not entirely successful at wringing out blunted confusion. ]
No.
[ ... ]
Thanks.
[ ...he does really need to do better than this, given, roommates. Uryuu takes a step, case rolling. Pauses, trying. ]
You haven't finished, right?
no subject
Still, he can't help the slight eyebrow raise that happens when Uryuu looks down to his bag and then back again. That's it, that has to be all his belongings. Well, he's a light packer at least, something he can appreciate. ]
All my personal things, yeah. Place comes with furniture and I brought dishes; I left them alone in case you wanted input.
[ Arthur nods towards the nearby kitchen and the cramped living area that adjoins it. There's a couch, a chair, a coffee table, side table, and some weird floor lamp that's all backed against the wall. In the kitchen, dishes and cups are set out on the island, ready to be placed away. ]
no subject
It will take some adjusting, he can see -- more than he'd appreciated when opting for cost efficiency. Living with another person. Even if they rarely see one another. Close quarters and shared amenities. Practical adjustment as well as semantic, conceptual.
He's been on his own for so long, confronting the facts of company, the visible evidence of it -- his gaze following that nod, absorbing the provisions both provided and bought -- feels akin to the shock of a heated interior, when stepping in from the cold. ]
I don't have any input.
[ He hadn't thought to, doesn't know where to begin. But -- he can guess at the proper question, or one of them. It isn't one he wants to ask, exposing his total ignorance in this area, but better to be vulnerable than rude. ]
Should I have brought something?
no subject
It's also probably his first time living with anyone outside of the family. He stops himself before he tries to analyze any further. They'd just met. Shrugging, he smiles a little, attempting friendly even if his default is somewhere closer to impassive. ]
Alright, I'll let you know where I decide to put them.
[ And now it's his turn to be shocked. Arthur's eyebrows go up a fraction and he waves off the question. ]
Don't worry about it. I was living close by, before. Just brought things I liked. [ A beat. ] Room's this way– took one of the closets already; just let me know if you need me to move anything.