Yuki stepped into the dormitory building, the scent of polished wood and faint detergent filling the air. The academy's dorms were different from what he expected—old-world charm mixed with modern conveniences. The walls were lined with dark wooden beams, and the polished floors gleamed under soft lighting. It was quiet in the hall, save for the soft sounds of students laughing or talking in the common areas. The building felt both familiar and foreign to him, and with every step, he couldn't shake the feeling of being a bit out of place.
He stopped in front of Room 314, his stomach fluttering with a mix of apprehension and unease. Aoto had been his roommate for a few days now, and their interactions had been... less than comfortable. Yuki had tried to keep things light, but Aoto was always aloof, distant—almost as if he resented having Yuki as a roommate. There was something about the older boy's presence that made him feel like he was constantly being judged.
Taking a deep breath, Yuki turned the doorknob and entered. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft hum of a laptop in the corner. Aoto was sitting at his desk, his back to Yuki, fully absorbed in whatever he was doing on his computer. The room was neatly organized, with shelves lined with books, a few papers scattered around Aoto's side of the room, and his bed perfectly made. Yuki's side, on the other hand, was still a little disorganized—his suitcase was open, and his clothes were strewn across the bed.
For a brief moment, Yuki stood in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed. Should he just leave Aoto alone, or try to talk? He wasn't sure what Aoto would prefer, but after their dinner earlier, Yuki felt it was time to try and bridge the gap between them.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, Yuki spoke up. "Hey, Aoto."
Aoto didn't respond immediately. His fingers continued to click away at the keys, and Yuki wondered if he'd even heard him. After a beat, Aoto's voice came, quiet but steady. "You're back late."
Yuki frowned slightly. "I was just at dinner. It didn't run that late."
Aoto didn't seem to care much about the specifics. His tone remained impassive as he said, "Just letting you know. You need to get used to being on time for things. This place doesn't give second chances."
Yuki wasn't sure if that was a warning or just Aoto's usual detached way of talking, but either way, it rubbed him the wrong way. "I'll try to be better about it," Yuki muttered, not sure if he was talking to Aoto or himself.
Aoto finally turned his chair, his gaze flicking up to meet Yuki's, but there was no warmth in his eyes—just that same cool, calculating look. "You should. People here don't wait around for others to catch up. You're either with them or you're not."
Yuki felt his chest tighten. He didn't like the implication in Aoto's words, the idea that he might be left behind or, worse, pushed aside because he didn't measure up. "I don't need anyone to wait for me," he replied, trying to match Aoto's tone with one of his own. "I'll figure it out."
For a moment, Aoto said nothing. He merely watched Yuki with that unreadable gaze, as though trying to gauge whether Yuki meant what he said. Then, with a sharp nod, Aoto returned to his laptop. "Good. Just keep that in mind."
Yuki exhaled, feeling the tension in the room rise once more. It was like there was an invisible wall between them, something Aoto had erected that Yuki couldn't break down no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't just about dinner times or fitting in—it was something deeper. Something in the way Aoto kept his distance, something in the air that made Yuki feel like an outsider, even in his own room.
Sighing, Yuki moved toward his bed, avoiding Aoto's gaze. He sat down and opened his backpack, pulling out his homework. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but the weight of the silence was suffocating. He couldn't help but glance at Aoto every now and then, catching glimpses of the other boy's profile as he typed, his face set in concentration. For a second, Yuki wondered what Aoto was really like beneath that cold exterior.
But before he could dwell on it for too long, Aoto spoke again. "You need help with that?"
Yuki blinked. "What?"
Aoto didn't look up from his screen. "Your homework. You've been staring at it for the past five minutes like you're trying to solve a puzzle without the pieces."
Yuki's face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm fine," he replied quickly, feeling defensive. "I'm just... thinking."
Aoto didn't respond, but the way he raised an eyebrow made it clear that he wasn't convinced. It was as if Aoto could see right through him, could tell that Yuki was struggling with more than just the assignment in front of him.
The silence dragged on, but this time, it wasn't as uncomfortable. It was quieter—like the kind of space two people might share when neither wanted to say too much but couldn't avoid each other. Yuki tried to concentrate on his work, but his mind kept drifting back to what Aoto had said earlier. You're either with them or you're not.
It was a harsh thing to say, and yet Yuki knew there was some truth to it. Alpha Academy wasn't a place where people could afford to be passive or indecisive. He had learned that much during his first few days here. He'd seen it in the way students interacted with one another, the way they carried themselves with a sense of purpose and urgency. But Yuki wasn't sure he could just become one of them.
And Aoto… Aoto was a constant reminder of that. He was the epitome of someone who belonged here, someone who thrived in this kind of environment. There was no room for hesitation with Aoto, no room for second chances. Every glance, every word, seemed to be a judgment, a test of whether Yuki was worthy of sharing the same space as him.
After a while, the room felt too small, the air too thick. Yuki stood up, needing a moment to himself. "I'm going to grab something to drink. Want anything?"
Aoto didn't look up. "No."
Yuki nodded and left the room, stepping into the cool night air. He wandered the halls of the dormitory for a bit, unsure of what he was hoping to find. He wasn't sure if he needed space from Aoto or just needed a moment to think. But as he walked through the quiet corridors, he couldn't shake the feeling that, for some reason, he wasn't allowed to be just himself here. Not yet.
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When Yuki returned to the room, Aoto was already in bed, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting a dim light across the room. His laptop was closed, and there was a book in his hands. Yuki could sense the change in the atmosphere, a subtle shift. It was like Aoto had turned down the intensity just a little, as though giving Yuki permission to be in the same space without the usual tension.
Yuki didn't say anything, though. He just went to his side of the room, undressed, and climbed into bed. The thought of engaging in another conversation felt too exhausting after everything that had already been said.
But even in the quiet, Yuki couldn't shake the feeling that something between him and Aoto was shifting, ever so slightly. It wasn't warmth, not exactly. But there was something else—something unspoken—that lingered in the room. A truce, perhaps, or the beginning of one. And as Yuki closed his eyes and tried to sleep, he couldn't help but wonder if this was just the calm before the storm.