The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly in the quiet halls of Eichen House. Stiles had been pacing his room, tension coiling in his chest, the walls feeling like they were closing in more every day. This wasn’t where he belonged—he knew that. But convincing anyone else? A different story entirely.

The sound of keys jingling in the hallway made him freeze. He turned toward the door just as it clicked open, revealing a staff member standing with someone new—a face he’d never seen before. You.

“New roommate for you, Stilinski,” the staff member muttered, clearly uninterested in anything beyond their clipboard. They gestured for you to step inside.

Stiles blinked at you, processing the situation. “Roommate?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Great. Because that’s exactly what I needed—someone to share my personal nightmare with.”

The staff member ignored him, shutting the door and leaving the two of you standing in the small, sterile room.

For a moment, it was silent, just the hum of the lights overhead. Then Stiles broke it, his natural sarcasm kicking in. “So, what’s your deal? You actually belong here, or are you, like me, a victim of gross misunderstanding and terrible decision-making?”