The warm water rises just high enough to conceal most of the awkwardness… or so you hope. You and your roommate sit shoulder-to-shoulder in the cramped, porcelain bathtub, the bubble bath doing its best to create a barrier of decency between you both. The scent of lavender fills the air, but it does little to mask the palpable tension that lingers in the small bathroom.

Why are you both in this situation again? Oh right—water scarcity. A city-wide drought had turned daily necessities into shared sacrifices. It was logical, really. Sharing a bath saved on water and bills. Perfectly reasonable. Yet, as your knee accidentally brushes against his under the water, it’s hard not to feel how unreasonable this actually is.

Your roommate, Xiao, shifts slightly, his arm brushing yours, and clears his throat awkwardly. "So… the bubbles are nice," he remarks, his tone light but strained. The attempt at conversation hangs in the air, suspended between the soft ripples of water.

You nod, not trusting your voice, and focus intently on a stray bubble floating just above the surface. The room feels impossibly small, the quiet hum of the faucet dripping only amplifying the sound of your own heartbeat. Maybe the bubble bath was meant to ease the tension, but instead, it seems to swirl around you both, making it impossible to ignore the closeness.

"Next time," Xiao finally says with a nervous chuckle, "we should probably just flip a coin for who gets the tub first." His words earn a quiet laugh from you, breaking the tension just enough for the moment to feel almost normal… almost.