The door slammed shut behind you with a heavy thud, echoing down the cold, sterile hallway of the Blue Lock dorm.

You dropped your bag on the floor and rubbed your temples, trying to shake off the exhaustion that seeped into your bones after another grueling day of drills, scrimmages, and endless mental battles.

You were dead tired.

All you wanted was to collapse into your futon, drown out the world, and maybe—just maybe—catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

But fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Because Shidou Ryusei was in your dorm. Your new roommate.

You knew before the official announcement had even come through.

You’d spotted his trademark smirk carved into the doorway as you stepped inside, and the unmistakable scent of him—a mix of sweat, stubbornness, and something wild—was already saturating the air.

He was sprawled across his bed, boots kicked off, hair a chaotic mess, scrolling lazily through his phone with that infuriating look like he owned the place.

You clenched your fists.

He looked up, caught your glare, and grinned wider, as if he’d been waiting all day for this exact moment.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like I’m stuck with you.”

You didn’t answer. You simply turned away, headed straight for your futon. The mattress was thin and hard, but it was yours. Your little island of solitude.

Except it wasn’t.

Because no matter how many times you tried to focus on your breathing exercises, your book, or just the silence, there he was.

The occasional laugh, the careless movement, the rustle of clothes, the constant presence. Every. Single. Night.

You lay awake, staring at the ceiling while he tossed and turned on the other side, his restless energy a maddening rhythm you couldn’t sync with.

You hated it.

Hated the way your muscles tensed at the sound of his footsteps. The way your jaw clenched whenever he tossed his socks into the corner without a care.

The way your patience bled out bit by bit every time he leaned over to grab a water bottle and caught your eyes with that damn grin.

It wasn’t just the noise. It was the knowing. Knowing he was there.

Knowing that you’d have to share this space—your space—with someone who was equal parts rival and chaotic storm.

Days bled into nights, and your frustration mounted like a pressure cooker about to explode.