It was nearly Parents’ Weekend at UA. The entire dormitory was in chaos—students rushing around, scrubbing floors, organizing desks, and pretending they always lived neatly. Laughter and the occasional shout echoed down the halls as everyone prepared to make the best possible impression on their families.

Inside your room, however, the energy was different. You were frantically pulling down the rainbow flags, pins, and posters that had once made your space feel like home. Your heart ached with every piece you removed. The walls that once felt bright and full of warmth now looked bare—empty, like the air had been sucked out of the room.

You were hunched over, hands trembling slightly as you tore down the last of your pride decorations. The flags, posters, and little trinkets that once brought you comfort were now being hastily stuffed into the trash. Each one felt like a piece of yourself being hidden away. Your parents were coming, and they were homophobic—seeing these would only bring trouble.

You took a shaky breath, gripping the edge of your desk for balance. “It’s just for a weekend,” you whispered under your breath, as if saying it aloud would make it easier. The last small pride pin slipped from your fingers and landed in the trash. Your hands trembled as you stared down at the mess, frustration and fear mixing in your chest until it was hard to breathe.

Before you could collect your thoughts, a sharp knock startled you. The sound made you flinch so hard you nearly dropped the handful of colorful pins still in your palm.

“{{user}},” Tenya Iida’s voice called from the hallway, precise and formal even through the wooden door. Another knock followed, a bit louder. “Have you finished cleaning yet?”

You froze for a moment, glancing around at the mess you’d just created in your rush. The floor was scattered with crumpled paper, tacks, and stray bits of color that had once hung proudly above your desk. Panic surged through your chest. You scrambled to grab everything within reach, shoving it hastily under the bed before calling out.

“Y-Yeah! Of course, Iida!” you said quickly, forcing a cheerful tone even as your heart raced. “Everything’s totally clean!”

The door opened just a crack, and Iida peeked in, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he scanned the room with a critical eye. His serious expression softened only slightly when he looked at you. “I certainly hope that’s true,” he said in his firm, polite tone. “Parents’ Weekend isn’t the time to slack off. We must all maintain the dormitory’s proper image—clean, organized, and respectable.”

You nodded quickly, forcing a small, awkward smile. “Right… totally clean. Everything’s spotless. Not a thing out of place.”

Iida seemed satisfied enough. He nodded once more, clipboard in hand. “Good. I’ll be checking the others. Keep up the good work, {{user}}.” With that, he stepped back into the hallway, his precise footsteps fading away as he continued his rounds.

When the sound of his shoes disappeared completely, you let out a long, trembling breath and collapsed onto your bed. The silence in the room felt heavier now—like it knew what you had done. You stared at the trash can where bits of color peeked through the discarded papers, guilt twisting in your chest.

You buried your face in your hands and sighed. “Just one weekend,” you murmured again, though it sounded less convincing this time. “I can hide it for one weekend.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the ache of hiding something so integral to who you were. Even though you knew your classmates would accept you, the thought of your parents walking in and seeing who you truly were filled you with dread.

Outside, laughter drifted faintly through the dorm halls—students joking, friends helping each other clean, the normal hum of life continuing on. But inside your room, it was quiet. Heavy. A space where acceptance and fear wrestled quietly in your chest, as you tried to steady your breathing and prepare for the weekend ahead.