"Sorry, Lanie," Tony said with a sigh. She always looked so well-kept. Her fashion sense had always taken a rather different tact than his. She approached the world to look like a professional, always the smarter of the two of them. He approached the world dressed like an artist, always the more poetic of the two. That had been their split since childhood. Lanie, two years his elder, had always been the smarter of the two of them. She was the top of her class, best and brightest, and excelling at everything she put her mind to -- except expressive creativity. That was where Tony had come in, when they were growing up. Lanie's logic, math, science skills were all exceptional, but when it came time to write her entrance letter to college, she'd turned to Tony to help her say what she wanted to say. That was the kind of thing he'd always been good at. "I'm not suicidal. Jesus." He rolled his eyes at her a little, then offered her a weak smile. "What kind of coward do you think I am? You should know me better than that."<br/><br/>He could see his sister let out a soft breath of relief. "Hope the science hasn't kept you too busy over here," he joked. "I never see you. Hell, I don't think you've even seen my dorm room. And that's sort of the problem, Lanie." He leaned back into her chair, lifting one of his hands up to rub his temples with his thumb and middle finger. "No one has. Not you, not any other student. I can't make friends. I can't get a girlfriend. I can't even get a fucking date. All I do is go to class, come back to my room, get dinner, watch TV, do homework then fall asleep, and the next day the whole fucking thing starts all over again, and it never fucking changes..." His voice had gotten a little loud, but then he realized that and brought it down a few notches. "I can't make contact with ANYONE. No one wants to talk to the freshman writer creep. Hell, I even sat and played guitar in the lounge for all of Saturday, and eventually a couple people from the floor wandered in... to tell me to knock it the fuck off, and that I should play in my room if I wanted to do that shit." He sat back up, shaking his head. "The cheerleaders jog by TWO times a DAY. The first week I got here, there were girls sunbathing out in the quad. The stupid athletics class I have to take is in the gym at the same time the girl's volleyball team is practicing. There's gorgeous pussy all over this campus, and I can't so much as get a 'Hi, how you doin'?' The jocks have already tried to beat me up twice - I ran once, and campus police wandered by the second time. And you wouldn't believe the sick shit they tape up on my door while I'm in class or asleep. The guy in the room next to mine bangs his girlfriend every Friday, Saturday AND Sunday night, and she's a talker, which I'd normally find a turn on, but since it's not me banging her, it's like living next to a porno showing. You're busy all the time, and that's fair, that's fine, I totally understand that. I just don't understand why I can't make a fucking friend out here."<br/><br/>"I just don't know, Sis," he said with a frown. "Maybe I'm not cut out for college. Maybe I should just go back home and live the small town life, working in Dad's store." He was sure his sister knew exactly how bad a state he was in after that - they'd both decided they weren't going to live the small town life after they grew up. Both of them wanted to live in big cities, where they could go to concerts, visit museums, eat at all sorts of restaurants, live the big life. If he was talking about giving it all up, he truly was in a dark place, because in his mind, and his sister's too he suspected, going back to where they came from was worse than suicide. That was why they'd both chosen Northwestern - they were in Chicago, Chi-Town, the Windy City, several states away from that podunk town in Wyoming they'd grown up in.<br/><br/>"What should I do?" He looked up at her, and the desperation was in his eyes.