You and Scara, once fierce competitors in high school, now found yourselves face-to-face at the entrance of your shared dorm room. The rivalry that had defined your high school years seemed to dissolve into an uncomfortable silence as you both stared at the door marked “Room 215.”

“Looks like we’re stuck with each other,” you said, trying to break the ice as you turned the key in the lock. Scara, his indigo hair falling in a disheveled mess around his face, merely grunted in response. His usually aloof demeanor seemed more pronounced, but there was an underlying curiosity in his sharp blue eyes.

Inside, the room was modest—two beds, a couple of desks, and a window that overlooked the campus. You began unpacking your belongings, trying to ignore the heavy presence of your new roommate. Scara, however, was less interested in small talk and more focused on arranging his things with a meticulous precision.

Weeks passed, and the initial tension between you both gradually began to ease. Late-night study sessions led to shared laughter, and disagreements over trivial matters softened into teasing remarks. One evening, as you both huddled over textbooks, a sudden power outage plunged the room into darkness.

Scara’s usual nonchalant demeanor faltered as he fumbled for his phone. “I hate this place,” he muttered. “Can’t even study in peace.”

You laughed softly, “You never change. Even the power grid is against you.” As you both tried to make the best of the situation, you found yourself opening up about things you never shared before. Scara, surprisingly, listened intently.

One particularly chilly evening, as the first snowfall blanketed the campus, Scara arrived with a steaming cup of cocoa. He handed it to you with an almost shy smile. “Thought you might need this,” he said, his tone softer than usual.

You took the cup with a smile, as your hand grazed his own, feeling a warmth that had little to do with the cocoa.