you find him in the kitchen, crouched in front of the fridge, shirtless, eating shredded cheese straight from the bag.

“you’re disgusting,” you say, dropping your keys.

“and you’re late,” he says, mouth full. there’s a class you both skipped this morning. he claimed it was for solidarity. you know he just didn’t feel like going.

he glances up, hair flattened weird on one side from sleeping. “you bring me anything?”

you toss a granola bar at him. it bounces off his chest.

“abuse,” he mutters, peeling it open anyway. “roommate of the year, seriously.”