'Just pretend like you know what you're doing.'

That's what I tell myself as I walk towards the most bored looking clerk in the administration office.

By all means, I should panic.

I'm only breaking a hundred laws and everything I own is in my duffle bag.

But after a long, sleepless night and the awareness that this decision is bound to come back to haunt me, I'm beyond stress, beyond hysteria, into the endless grey of being limited to emergency functions only.

My chill is fake, but it's potent.

The clerk looks up from his computer screen as I approach.

"I was told to get these residency papers signed," I put the file on his desk "Can you guide me about which dorm room I'll have?"

He makes no move for the papers, and turns his eyes back to his computer screen.

"The dorms are full."

My fake chill evaporates.

I stare at him dumbly "What?"

"The dorms are full, kid. Should've read the acceptance letter properly. All students applying for dorm rooms had to be here by Monday." He says flatly "You're a whole week too late."

"What am I supposed to do then?" I blurt out, almost leaning over the desk

"Dunno. Should've thought of that."

I don't even have enough money to rent a third rate hotel.

"No, wait," I'm gesturing with my hands to get his attention "The letter said all scholarship students will definitely be given a dorm room."

That gets his attention. The clerk gives me a suspicious look, particularly eyeing the bruise blooming under my left eye.

"You're a scholarship student?" he asks, I nod fervently

He sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose "Then congratulations. Now, we're both in a mess."

The clerk picks up my file and goes through the documents, before starting to type on his computer.

"Listen, I'll see what I can do," He tells me "But we had to reconstruct a building. We're already short on rooms. I can't guarantee anything."

"Thank you," I say anyway

Knowing that my fate depends upon a few clicks from this guy makes it hard to keep looking in his direction.

I turn and resist the urge to lean against his desk. God, I'm tired.

I look around the rest of the administration office, which is mostly empty of students.

Near the other side of the office, I see two guys in heated conversation with a clerk. Head Clerk, Gerald Winston, the ginormous words are written on a silver plate on his desk.

Mr. Winston gives a tight shake of his head, at which one of them crumples over his desk like a despondent solider. The other one is still talking, which I can't hear much of.

The first one straightens in a quick movement, as if struck by lightning.

He turns around.

And looks straight at me.

I quickly look away, pretending like I wasn't being nosy.

"Hey, you!"

I almost jump out of my skin. Startled, I look back, and he's walking over to me. The other guy and the clerk are also looking now.

A hundred thoughts hit my head at once.

The hell? Is he a senior? Am I about to get ragged? I haven't even gotten a dorm yet, for God's sake!

But as he approaches, I make up my mind.

No, absolutely not. I haven't slept in days, and my eye hurts and my head hurts, and if I'm making stupid decisions already, I might just make another and stand my ground.

With those thoughts, I assess the opponent.

Damnit, he's tall. And though his wearing a windbreaker, I can tell he's fit enough to beat me to a pulp. He doesn't look like a punk though, with that aristocratic face, dark hair pushed back from his face.

"What?" I say, and it comes out harsh.

'Perfect, now I sound like I want to fight.'

He doesn't even bat an eye.

"You want a dorm room?"

It takes a moment for my sleep deprived head to put two and two together.

Suddenly, their interaction with the head clerk is making sense.

I look at the clerk who's stopped typing. He shakes his head at me.

"Yeah," I tell this guy as I grab my file "Why do you ask?"

He beams at me "Perfect."

Then without wasting a second, he's grabbed my duffle bag from my hand.

"I found the guy!" He howlers "Nico, give me a hand!"

"Hey," I can't process what's happening "Wait—

Before I know it, the other guy is upon us, and somehow, I'm walking forward— no that's not it.

They're both carrying my over their shoulders like we just won a match against our sworn enemies.

"Here!"

I'm put to my feet in front of the head clerk's desk.

The guy who'd approached me first gestures at me like I'm a circus attraction.

"Our fourth roommate!"