The School of Rock (read intro)

OK, so you're gonna have to use your imagination.
Every student in the story is probably somewhere in their twenties. The tutors would be slightly older. OK, cool. c:
Comments, please?

Chapter 1


David was lying on his bed in his dormitory in some sort of trance; not quite asleep, not quite awake. He was transfixed by a black spot on the (until then) crisp white ceiling. This was his home now.
The School of Rock.
It was a ridiculous way to name a university, David thought. And besides, he still hadn't found out who his roommate was. He continued to stare at the spot until the door clicked open.
His stupor disturbed, David propped himself up onto his elbows. Into the room came a man who looked around David's age, with short, mousy brown hair. He was rather short, with a round, cherubic face. He wore a pair of rose tinted spectacles.
''There's a god awful large amount of feathers on his outfit,'' David observed, smirking. The man smiled.
'Hi,' He said. 'I'm your roommate...this is 110, right?' David nodded.
'Yes, it is.'
The man sighed with relief.
'Thank god!' He exclaimed. 'The guy behind the desk said it wouldn't be hard to find cause of the-'
'Glitter?' David hazarded. 'Yeah, that was me. Sorry. I'm David Bowie, by the way.'
'Elton John,' The man replied. He then made his way over to the bed beside the window and began to unpack. 'Are we expecting somebody else?' David looked at the third bed in the corner of the room.
'I guess so,' He swung his thin legs over the side of the bed, giving Elton full view of his red platform boots. Elton grinned.
'I LOVE your shoes.' He said enviously. David chuckled.
'Thankyou! A Japanese designer made them for me. But ehm...yours are nice too.'
Elton shrugged.
'They're not bad.'
Their conversation was interrupted by the door opening again, and in stepped a thin man with a mountainous mop of brown hair and pixie-like, sharp facial features. He wore a white shirt, a jacket made out of some strange, silver material, and white trousers that clung tight around his thighs but flared out dramatically at the bottom, so they were just short of touching the ground.
With his trousers being so tight at the top, the man's crotch was highly noticeable. David didn't realise he was staring at it until the man said 'Eyes up here, hothead.'
'Marc?!' Elton exclaimed. The man looked at Elton with a quick flick of his head.
'Elton!' The two men gave eachother a surprisingly manly hug.
'Thank god, somebody I know!' Elton cracked. They broke apart. 'Sorry, David. Marc, this is David Bowie. David, this is Marc Bolan.' Marc shook David's hand, grinning widely.
'Lovely to meet you, sweetheart.'
''Sweetheart?!'' David thought to himself. ''''

From the moment Nick Rhodes had stepped through the door of The School of Rock, he could already list a million things he hated about it.
First of all, there was the school's name. Nick wasn't rock n' roll at all; he was a keyboard player with peroxide blonde hair, ivory skin and too much makeup.
Secondly, the decor was absolutely ''ghastly''! The plain white walls, the positively disgusting beige curtains...eugh. Nick had a right mind to redecorate the whole place.
And also, their was the fear of who exactly his roommate would be. After long, agonizing hours of waiting, sitting cross legged on his bed, the door finally swung open, and in stepped a towering, broad-shouldered man. Although muscular, he was slim, with shoulder length, clay red hair. He wore faded jeans, boots, a white t shirt and a leather jacket that looked like it had been dragged backwards through a hedge made from barbed wire.
''He looks like a BIKER,'' Nick thought disdainfully.
'This room 105?' The man asked. Nick didn't reply immediately, and the man chuckled. 'Hey. Dollface. This room 105?' Nick snapped back to reality, regaining some of his confidence.
'Yes. It's room 105. And my name isn't Dollface,' He said, rather piqued. 'It's Nick. Nick Rhodes.' The man shrugged one shoulder.
'Whatever, Dollface,' He took an amble little stroll over to his bed, and dumped his bag on it. 'Axl Rose is the name.' He held out his hand; Nick shook it, then immediately wiped it on his bedsheet. Axl chuckled.
'You know, good lookin', it wouldn't kill ya to smile. Besides, we're roomies now. If you carry on like that, that bedsheet's gonna be real dirty.'
Nick waited for Axl to turn his back, before rolling his eyes.
''I am officially in hell.'' He thought to himself.

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