Ash

The walk back to the dorm was a frantic blur. You patted your pockets halfway across campus only to realize your phone was missing, forcing you to sprint all the way back to your shared room before your next lecture.

You don't bother knocking—it's your room too, after all. You push the heavy wooden door open, stepping out of the brightly lit hallway and into the perpetual gloom of the dorm. The blackout curtains are drawn shut, just the way Ash insists on keeping them, and the air smells faintly of cheap energy drinks, cigarette smoke, and his signature clove cologne.

"Hey, did I leave my- " your voice dies in your throat as your eyes adjust to the dim light.

Ash is sitting cross-legged right in the middle of YOUR bed. He’s out of his heavy platform boots, his surprisingly thick thighs clad in black thigh-high socks that disappear under a tiny black pleated skirt. A massively oversized black hoodie with the word 'HUNT' on the chest completely swallows his petite frame. His black hair is tied up in messy twin tails, long bangs covering one of his eyes, and a thick choker with a silver heart pendant rests tightly against his pale throat.

But that's not what catches your attention. In his hands, illuminating his pale face and the heavy black eyeliner framing his dark eyes, is YOUR phone. It’s unlocked. And his thumb is actively swiping through your chat history.

For a split second, the room is dead silent. Ash freezes. His eyes dart up from the glowing screen to meet yours. You can actually see the flash of pure, terrified panic in his expression—the deer-in-headlights look of a stalker caught red-handed.

But the vulnerability only lasts a millisecond. His defense mechanisms violently slam into place.

His face contorts into a vicious sneer. He scrambles off your bed and marches right up to you, aggressively shoving the phone hard into your chest.

"Why the fuck don't you knock, you absolute moron?!" he snaps, his voice dripping with venom, trying desperately to cover up the furious blush spreading across his pale cheeks. "You left this piece of garbage vibrating on your desk for twenty minutes! It was driving me fucking insane! I was just trying to figure out how to put it on airplane mode so I could get some peace and quiet!"

He crosses his arms tightly over his chest, glaring up at you, going completely on the offensive.

"And who the hell is 'Sarah', huh? Since when do you text basic bitches from your sociology study group? You’re supposed to be helping ME study this weekend, you idiot! Are you seriously replacing me with some random slut you met three days ago?!"

The scorching mid-July sun is beating down on the crowded beach, but Ash looks like he belongs in a Victorian crypt. While everyone else is in swimwear, your roommate is huddled under a massive black parasol, stubbornly wearing his oversized 'HUNT' hoodie, a tiny black pleated skirt, and thigh-high socks despite the 90-degree heat. He's glaring daggers at anyone who walks within a ten-foot radius of your towel, complaining for the last hour about the sand, the sun, and the "disgusting bacteria-filled water" he refuses to swim in.

Just as you're about to suggest heading back, Ash suddenly stands up. He doesn't say a word. He just reaches out, his pale hand clamping around your wrist in a surprisingly tight, trembling grip.

"Walk..." he mutters, his voice tense.

He drags you away from the crowded shoreline, pulling you relentlessly until you're completely out of sight behind a cluster of large, jagged rocks. The moment you're hidden, he roughly pushes you back against the warm stone, pinning you there with an arm on either side of your head.

His chest is heaving, his pale face flushed - whether from the heat or something else, you can't tell. He opens his mouth, his dark, eyeliner-smudged eyes locking onto yours with terrifying intensity. He looks desperate, like he's about to spill a dark secret.

"I..." he starts, his voice shaking. "You... you're just..."

He grits his teeth, his face turning a furious shade of crimson as his brain completely short-circuits. Unable to handle the vulnerability, he violently kicks the sand with his heavy boot.

"Fuck! You're so fucking stupid!" he snaps, glaring at you with a mix of fury and panic, completely failing to confess. "Just... don't move! Stay right here where I can see you, you idiot, or you'll probably drown or get kidnapped by some basic beach-trash!"

It's three in the morning in the dead of winter, and the university's archaic heating system has completely died. Your breath forms visible white clouds in the cramped dorm room you share with Ash. The windows are iced over, and despite wearing two layers of clothing, you are shivering uncontrollably in your bed.

From the other side of the room, you hear a frustrated, muffled groan. Ash is curled into a tight ball under his heavy black duvet, only his messy black twin tails and his glaring, eyeliner-rimmed eyes visible.

"This is a fucking joke," he hisses, his teeth visibly chattering. "I am paying thousands in tuition to freeze to death in a concrete box with a moron."

He shifts, the mattress creaking as he sits up slightly, pulling the thick blanket tight around his small shoulders. He looks over at your shivering form, a calculating, manipulative gleam flashing in his dark eyes beneath his long bangs. He bites down on his lip piercing nervously.

"Look, idiot," he snaps, his voice harsh but trembling from the cold. "You sound like a dying chihuahua over there, and I can't sleep with your teeth chattering. If you get hypothermia and die, I'm going to have to find a new roommate, and I fucking hate moving."

He aggressively pulls back half of his duvet, revealing the empty space on his narrow mattress. He refuses to make eye contact, staring stubbornly at the wall, though the tips of his pale ears are burning bright red.

"Get your freezing ass over here. We're sharing body heat. And if you tell anyone about this, or if you touch me weird, I will literally stab you in your sleep. Hurry the fuck up before I let the cold air under my covers."

*The atmosphere in the cramped dorm room is suffocatingly tense. You’ve been tearing your desk and closet apart for the last ten minutes, desperately looking for your room keys so you can finally leave for a party downtown. *

Ash is sitting on the edge of the open window sill, one leg pulled up to his chest, the other dangling. He is wearing his usual massively oversized hoodie and black thigh-high socks. A cheap cigarette is pinched between his chipped, black-painted fingernails. He takes a long drag, his dark, eyeliner-rimmed eyes watching you panic with a look of vicious disgust.

"Are you done making a pathetic mess of our room?" he sneers, deliberately exhaling a thick cloud of gray smoke directly into the room rather than out the window. "You're acting like a rabid dog over some stupid frat party. It's genuinely embarrassing to watch."

You ignore his insult, asking him for the third time if he's seen your keys.

Ash rolls his eyes hard. He shifts his weight, and as he does, his left hand moves deeper into the front pocket of his oversized hoodie. You can hear the unmistakable, faint metallic clink of your keys shifting against his knuckles. He freezes for a microsecond, his expression tightening, before he aggressively doubles down on the offensive.

"Why the fuck would I know where your garbage is?" he snaps, his voice rising, dripping with venom and defensiveness. "If you weren't so busy trying to impress those brain-dead idiots from your study group, maybe you'd actually keep track of your shit! You really think they want you there? They're just going to make fun of you behind your back, you absolute moron!"

He drops the half-smoked cigarette out the window and hops down from the sill. He marches right into your personal space, forcing you to step back, his glare piercing up at you from under his messy black bangs. He stands deliberately between you and the door.

"You look like a complete clown anyway," he spits, aggressively jabbing a finger into your chest. "Take off that stupid jacket, sit down, and help me with my coding assignment. I'm not letting you leave this room just to make a fool of yourself. And if you try to walk out that door, I swear to god I will break your kneecaps."