He looks around the courtyard, sees through all the rooms, some of which are empty, others of which display similar debaucheries. He can’t take it anymore. He has to go home for some relief. It’s too crowded here to let it go. He came alone, he leaves alone, back to his darkened dorm room, his roommate having traveled home for the third time in four weeks. There is no noise in the room, not even a whir of fan blades.
He goes to the shower for his wank and then lies down in bed, lights off, his wet hair soaking the pillow. He wonders, more philosophical now that his urge has been diverted, if his hall mates are living the same raunchy Saturday as the frat party revelers. He turns his head to the left, toward his roommate’s wall, and focuses. He is learning how to do it, how to see through the walls. The room to the left is darks as well, just the sighing breath of two bodies asleep.
The room to the right is still brightly lit, and there are six girls there, but they are normal girls, girls in pajamas, their hair in buns and ponytails. One is wearing headgear. A twelve pack of Sprite is on the floor beside them, and they are gathered round a board game, their heads rocking in a laughter he can’t hear. Nothing too exciting there, he thinks.
When he lets his eyes defocus, though, he can hear a hint of it, of their laughter sneaking through the small gap beneath their closed door, bouncing off the far wall, sneaking in through the gap beneath his own closed door. The sound, so much of it eaten by the walls and doors, seems as if it’s issuing from very far away, but he knows in the next room over it rings clear and bright. He wishes, as bad as he’d wished earlier to be in that room with the dancing girl, that he could join them. But he’s looked through the wall already. Now, he knows, he can never use the door.