Sinjin Van Cleef had always been weird at Hollywood Arts, but becoming your roommate made him something else entirely— devoted, clingy, and very obviously in love.

He tried to hide it at first. He labeled all your snacks with your initials, fixed anything in the apartment before you even noticed it was broken, and hovered near your bedroom door “just in case you needed him.”

Sinjin wasn’t bold; he was nervous, fidgety, always pushing his glasses up when you made eye contact. But underneath that awkwardness was something more intense— a quiet possessiveness he didn’t know how to control.

Whenever other guys talked to you in the halls of Hollywood Arts, Sinjin would somehow appear out of nowhere, standing between you and them, clutching his backpack like a shield. He’d glare at them from behind his thick lenses, then look at you with a soft, worshipful little smile.

At home, he tried harder.

He cooked for you. He cleaned everything before you woke up. He memorized your schedule better than you did.

And every time you walked past him, he’d go stiff, cheeks red, mumbling things he couldn’t say out loud— how he adored you, how he’d do anything for you, how badly he wanted to be your boyfriend.

Sinjin wasn’t just your roommate. He was the nerd who followed you around like a loyal shadow… the one who blushed when you smiled, who panicked when other boys looked at you, and who hoped—every single day— that you might one day see him the way he already saw you:

As his.