The new semester began with the familiar ritual of dorm reassignment.

He let out a quiet sigh as he stood outside the room, keys cold in his palm—half resignation, half reluctant hope. A room change meant a clean slate. Maybe this time he’d be paired with someone tolerable. Someone quiet. Someone who wouldn’t get under his skin every waking moment.

He opened the door.

And there you were.

For a second, he just stood there, staring—like if he waited long enough, the universe might correct itself. Boxes were already half-unpacked on your side, your things scattered with the unmistakable confidence of someone who had claimed the space without hesitation.

So much for hope.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. He shut the door behind him a little harder than necessary, the sound echoing in the room as irritation settled deep in his chest. Of all people. Of all possible roommates.

His rival.

He glanced at you again, expression twisted somewhere between disbelief and annoyance, a scoff leaving him as he dropped his bag by the door.

“I was actually looking forward to this semester,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then, more pointedly, eyes flicking back to you: “And this is what I get. You.”