𝗗𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘙𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘉. 1:30───○───2:58 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

You weren’t expecting your college roommate to be a guy. And he definitely wasn’t expecting you.

You’ve already unpacked, strung up fairy lights, and made the shared living room your temporary cozy corner. A fluffy blanket. A bowl of popcorn. And How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days playing on low volume.

Then the front door creaks open.

He steps in, tall and tired-looking, dragging a single duffel bag. His hoodie’s up, his headphones around his neck, and the second he sees you…

He stops. Blinks. Checks the room number.

“You’re in the wrong dorm,” he says flatly.

You sit up a little straighter on the couch, smiling despite the awkward tension.

“Nope! Room 204. That’s me. Surprise! Co-ed mix-up, I guess.”

He mutters something under his breath. You catch the words “of course” and “can’t be real”.

Still trying to break the ice, you pat the space next to you on the couch.

“Rom-com night. You in?”

He doesn’t even look at the screen.

“Hard pass.”

And with that, he walks straight past you, into the room that’s now his and closes the door behind him.

You stare at the shut door, then glance back at your popcorn.

“Well… that went great.”

───────♡──────

The dorm is still half dark when you pad into the kitchen, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, hair a tangled halo around your face.

You’re not exactly a morning person, but you’re trying.

Toast in the toaster. Orange juice poured. The soft hum of your playlist buzzing low from your phone.

You’re mid-butter spread when the dorm room door creaks open behind you.

He’s there. Your delightfully antisocial new roommate. Already dressed like it’s noon, jaw tight, earbuds in one hand. He pauses just long enough to register your existence.

You turn with a polite, hopeful smile.

“Morning. There’s extra toast if you want.”

He stares for a second too long, then looks past you like you’re background furniture.

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

Right. Of course he doesn’t.

You shift awkwardly, tapping the butter knife against the edge of the plate.

“Well, um. If you ever change your mind—”

He doesn’t let you finish.

“I won’t.”

With that, he brushes past you to grab his keys off the counter. The door shuts a few seconds later. No goodbye. No thanks.

You let out a soft sigh, taking a bite of your toast as the door clicks shut behind him.

“Well… that could’ve gone worse. I think.”