•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•
After a mont, Joey’s grin faded as he looked at for real again, the way he does when he decides sothing is serious enough to warrant it. Not dramatically, just differently. "You’re exhausted," he said, quieter now.
I shrugged automatically. "I’m managing."
"Bullshit."
"I genuinely am."
"Oliver." He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. "You’re working nonstop, dealing with your dad, surviving on instant noodles, trying not to fail your classes, handling the aftermath of the dorm fire, and on top of all of it, you’re stuck living with Damien freaking Lockwood, who apparently only communicates through written policies and disapproving silence."
He shook his head. "You’re going to collapse. Probably in public."
"That feels dramatic."
"You fell asleep in class today."
I blinked, caught off guard. A pause that lingered just a bit too long. "...How do you know that?"
"You snore, Carl texted asking if you’ve got sleep apnea."
The horror crept in slowly and then all at once. "Oh my God."
"Yeah."
"In front of everyone?"
"It was pretty quiet. But yes."
"I’m dropping out."
"You can’t afford to drop out."
"...Right." I picked up my burger again, functioning on autopilot. "Right. Good point. Continuing then."
Joey sighed, leaning forward with the serious energy of soone handing out a prescription. "One night," he said, with the firm certainty of a doctor recomnding sothing a patient is likely to resist.
I narrowed my eyes imdiately. "No."
"Co on."
"No. I know how this goes."
"There’s a frat party tonight."
"Absolutely not."
"Free drinks."
"I don’t drink enough to make the social interaction worth it."
"Hot girls."
I was starting to get a bit convinced at that. "But I’m too tired to form complete sentences, let alone flirt."
"Hot guys?"
I hesitated and glared at him while he laughed like a dumb ass. "Not funny, moron."
Joey’s eyes lit up, and he pointed at like he had just won a courtroom debate. "Aha!"
"I didn’t say anything."
"You hesitated."
"I was chewing."
"You considered it."
"I’m an open-minded person who was thoughtfully chewing. Those are two different things, I’m not gay."
Joey groaned dramatically, leaning back against the booth. I an...why does everyone suddenly want to be gay?! Did I give off twink vibes? Did I look like a femboy? I didn’t think I looked that sexy to pull that off.
"You need a break, man an actual break. Not just lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling while your roommate judges you for breathing."
"I need sleep."
"You need to act like a college student for one night instead of a stressed-out forty-year-old single dad of three, who also runs a small business."
"That feels personal."
"It is. It’s a precise strike." He pointed at again. "One night. You co, you exist in a social space, you rember what fun feels like, and I’ll bring you ho before midnight like a responsible designated friend."
I stared down at my half-eaten fries.
Part of already knew he was right, which was what made Joey so irritating, he was annoying but often correct about things I didn’t want to hear. I was tired in a way that sleep alone wasn’t fixing, worn down beyond what rest could cure. ntally exhausted. Emotionally drained. The kind of tired that seeps into everything until minor issues start feeling monuntal.
And the idea of pretending, just for a few hours...that none of it was happening?Dangerously tempting. More than I wanted to admit.
Joey saw my hesitation imdiately and grinned like he was winning. "Yes."
"No."
"That no didn’t have any weight behind it."
I groaned loudly enough that the table next to us glanced over.
"Fine," I muttered, pointing a fry at him. "Two hours. Maximum, non-negotiable."
Joey gasped as if I’d just made a life-changing announcent. "Yes! Okay. Two hours, totally reasonable."
I finished my burger in silence.
A few hours later, I stood in the Preston Hall bathroom, staring at my reflection like soone gearing up for an uncertain ordeal. The mirror didn’t lie: damp hair, tired eyes, a shirt that wasn’t bad but still felt out of place for the night ahead.
Steam lingered in the air from my shower as I pulled at the hem of my shirt, which looked clean and presentable, doing its best given the circumstances.
At least it was clean. It had to count for sothing. I was determined to let it count.
I ran a hand through my damp hair, took one last look in the mirror that offered no encouragent, and stepped back into the apartnt.
Damien was back at his desk.
Of course. The guy studied like he was under so sort of contract with a soul-sucking entity that allowed no sick days or social lives, and he was sticking to it.
His gaze flicked toward the mont I walked in, that quick, instinctive awareness he had about changes in his environnt, like our apartnt had a motion sensor he was linked to... then paused briefly, lingering on the shirt, my damp hair, and the jacket in my hand before he returned to his textbook.
I noticed imdiately, because against my better judgnt and without deciding to, I’d started noticing everything Damien did. Every pause. Every flicker.
Every tiny change from his usual complete indifference. It had turned into this involuntary habit, like I was automatically checking the weather or looking both ways, and I wasn’t thrilled about this revelation.
Which, honestly? Probably not great for my ntal health. Sothing I ant to address later when I had more bandwidth for self-reflection.
I grabbed my jacket and shoved my phone into my pocket, determinedly avoiding the fact that I felt oddly self-conscious under his gaze. It was a couple seconds of eye contact at most. It ant nothing. He looked at everything with the sa neutral appraisal, like soone glancing at a piece of furniture that had been slightly moved.
Stupid attractive emotionally unavailable rich guy, my mind helpfully chid in, launching into its familiar internal rant about him entirely on instinct, as if it had set up a dedicated folder for Damien-related grievances.
God forbid he acted like a normal roommate for even five minutes.
God forbid he smiled once in a while instead of maintaining the perpetual expression of soone who had critically assessed humanity and found it lacking.
I shoved my other arm through the jacket sleeve more forcefully than it warranted.
"Going sowhere?" I muttered under my breath, mimicking his tone, as if I had started performing imaginary exchanges with my roommate while he sat a few feet away, which felt like a new level of psychological decline I wasn’t ready to confront.
I paused, frowned at nothing. Great. Now I was monologuing for an audience of zero in my own head.
Living here was dismantling neuron by neuron.
The frat house was already loud before we even stepped inside, the music booming through the walls like a force of nature. The bass thrumd through the pavent under my feet as Joey and I approached, with throngs of students spilling onto the front lawn, red solo cups in hand, shouting over one another with the reckless volu of people who hadn’t spent the last week quietly losing their grip in a luxury apartnt with a guy who only communicated through sighing and rules.
The mont Joey pulled through the front door, it hit all at once...alcohol, perfu, sweat, sothing faintly burning that I wisely chose not to investigate, all coiling together into this wall of sensation my sleep-deprived brain processed just a bit too slowly.
"Holy shit," I muttered, my eyes wide as I took in the chaos. It had been a while since I stepped into a party.
The place buzzed with a life of its own, jarring after two weeks in the controlled quiet of Preston Hall. Bodies huddled together under shifting lights that made everyone appear slightly unreal.
Girls in tiny dresses laughed loudly near the staircase, leaning into one another with an ease that suggested they were exactly where they wanted to be. Guys shouted over the music at beer pong tables, deeply invested in outcos that only slightly drunk people cared about.
Expensive watches caught the light.
Designer shoes stuck to the floors, which felt like a taphor for sothing.
Carefree laughter surrounded , filling the space like it always did in rooms where inconsequentiality was a luxury.
And imdiately, without any fanfare or invitation,l I felt out of place.
Not in a dramatic sense. Not sothing that crept up on or announced itself. Just a soft, imdiate awareness that settled over everything like an adjustnt in focus, sharpening certain details more than necessary.
My shoes, old and clean but clearly not what anyone else was wearing. My jeans, the sa old story.
The ntal calculation I did automatically about how much the drinks on that table might have cost, compared to what I spent on food this week, and how those two figures related in a way I wished they didn’t.
Joey handed a drink before that thought could lead anywhere productive.
"Relax," he shouted over the music, leaning in close enough that I could actually hear him.
"I am relaxed."
"Liar." He nudged forward into the crowd. "Drink it. Stop thinking."
I took a cautious sip. Honestly? Not bad. Sweet, with undertones doing their job effectively. I took another sip, deciding to give the evening a shot.
For a while, I stuck close to Joey as he smoothly navigated conversations and people, moving through the crowd with the easy fluidity of soone who had always known how to blend in, which, as it turned out, he had.
Joey moved through social situations like water...without friction, effortlessly filling whatever space was available. It was a skill I’d noticed and admired but could never replicate, likely because it required a level of confidence I’d historically channeled elsewhere.
I mostly observed, drink in hand, watching the room with the detached curiosity of soone watching a nature docuntary instead of actively participating in the ecosystem.
It was fine, genuinely fine. The music was loud enough to drown out heavy thoughts, which was actually helpful, and the drink was quietly working its magic, and Joey was nearby, and for short monts, I managed to just be without the weight of everything else crowding in.
And then...without any conscious decision behind it, the way eyes sotis move before the brain issues commands, my gaze drifted across the crowded room.
And froze, in he ca... Damien.
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