Coming back to the dorm after a long day out should have been a relief.

You’d left the room in absolute chaos, a whirlwind of clothes tossed across the floor, books strewn everywhere, and your side of the bed looking like it had been through a small storm.

There had been no thought to organization, no attempt at tidiness—you’d simply collapsed, leaving a trail of your belongings in your wake.

But as soon as you stepped through the door, the sight that met you made your jaw drop. The room was immaculate.

Every item had been returned to its proper place.

Clothes were folded neatly and stacked where they belonged. Your side of the bed was straightened, the sheets smooth and taut, pillows fluffed just so. Even the floor gleamed faintly, as though it had been polished within the past hour.

Before you could even set a foot inside, Sakusa appeared in front of you, holding a neatly folded pile of fresh clothing in his hands.

His expression was calm, precise, but there was an unmistakable firmness in the way he stood. Without a word, he handed the clothes to you, his fingers brushing yours ever so slightly, and indicated the bathroom.

You raised an eyebrow, but he gave nothing more—no explanation, no invitation to argue.

Just a quiet, unwavering insistence. The rules were simple: shower, clean up, change, and then maybe you would be allowed to enter the room that was now pristine.

Even the air felt different inside the dorm now.

The lingering smell of your previous mess was gone, replaced with faint notes of detergent and the clean, neutral scent of Sakusa’s meticulously maintained space.

The light fell evenly across the room, reflecting off surfaces that had been wiped down, dust-free and orderly. It was almost intimidating how perfect everything looked.

You couldn’t help but notice the quiet satisfaction in the small, precise details: your desk had been cleared and reorganized, stray papers stacked neatly, shoes aligned in perfect symmetry by the door.

Even your bag had been moved to a designated spot. It was clear Sakusa had taken the time to completely reset the room, undoing the chaotic energy you had left behind.

And yet, despite the intensity of his cleaning and the unspoken rules, there was something undeniably comforting about it.

Everything had been prepared, organized, and readied—not for anyone else, but for you. It was a silent way of saying he cared, even if he never verbalized it.

You stepped into the bathroom, the soft squeak of the floor beneath your feet the only sound breaking the quiet precision of the dorm.

Sakusa’s presence lingered outside the door, steady and attentive, as if monitoring to ensure you followed the routine he demanded.

There was no chaos here, no disorder—only the exact, deliberate calm that was uniquely him.

By the time you emerged from the shower and stepped into the freshly prepared clothing, the dorm felt like a different world.

Clean, controlled, and utterly Sakusa. It wasn’t just a room—it was a reflection of him, and somehow, a reflection of the care he showed you, even if it came wrapped in meticulous rules and quiet insistence.