The door creaked open with a sound far too loud for such a quiet dorm.
Thomas glanced up from his book, his pen freezing mid-sentence. The sudden noise fractured the peaceful stillness he had so carefully cultivated in the room. His brow furrowed. The interruption arrived not just in sound, but in the form of a whirlwind of energy.
"Julian Chavalin is here! Your new roommate!" the figure in the doorway announced, voice bouncing off the bare walls with unapologetic enthusiasm.
Thomas blinked at him.
Julian stood tall , a backpack slung lazily over one shoulder and an overstuffed duffel bag threatening to burst at the seams. His smile beamed like he'd just stepped out of a travel blog, completely immune to the stiff awkwardness of introductions or the need for volume control.
Thomas sighed, a slow exhale of resignation. He adjusted his glasses and cast a glance at his side of the room that is well organized.
Julian tossed his bag onto the floor with a heavy thud. Thomas flinched.
"You're in my place now," Thomas muttered, not sure if it was a threat or a desperate appeal. "Try to keep it down."
Julian didn't respond. Either he hadn't heard or he just didn't care. He was already tugging clothes out of his bag with an energy that made Thomas wince. Jeans flung over the bedpost, jackets tossed on the back of the chair, a pair of socks landing unceremoniously near Thomas's dresser. Chaos was claiming its territory.
Thomas's eye twitched as silence stretched thin between them. He tried to refocus on the paragraph in his book, but the letters swam. Julian was humming now. Off-key.
Is he doing this on purpose? Thomas clenched his jaw and kept his eyes fixed on the page. He had spent years mastering the art of stillness, of silence. Julian seemed to thrive in the opposite.
"Hey," Julian said suddenly, spinning around, "I didn't know your name yet."
Thomas blinked. "Thomas," he said flatly, uncertain whether to offer a handshake. He didn't.
"Nice," Julian grinned, stretching dramatically. "I'm Julian Chavalin, but you already heard it. You can just call me Julian. Or Jules. Or J. I'm not picky."
Thomas nodded, lips a tight line. "Thomas is fine."
Julian flopped backward onto his assigned bed, claiming the room like a kingdom. He stared at the ceiling for a while before turning his head to look at Thomas.
"So, what are you majoring in?"
"Physics. Theoretical."
"Dude. I don't even know what that means."
Thomas almost smiled. Almost. "It means I like problems that aren't real. Yet."
Julian laughed, and the sound did something strange to the air-something light and reckless.
"And you?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation somewhere.
"Communications. I like talking. Obviously." Julian winked and added a smile.
Thomas looked away quickly.
Thomas swallowed and reached for his pen again. "I need to finish this chapter," he said, but his voice was quieter now, "So please don't make any noise."
"Sure thing, roomie." Julian grinned, rolling over to rifle through his mess of a bag again. "Just lemme know if you need help understanding the social sciences of small talk."
"Yeah yeah." He stared at the page in front of him, rereading the same sentence three times.
For now, he would pretend that his pulse wasn't acting weird. He would ignore the strange tension building in the air. But deep down, a truth had already begun to settle in.
Without a single clear reason, and without either of them saying a word, something had started.
And it wasn't going to be simple.
The sudden quiet was strange, even jarring.
Thomas allowed himself a breath of relief and refocused on the page in front of him.
Except now he could feel Julian's gaze. That buzzing, restless presence hadn't left-it had just gone still. Watching.
After a moment, Julian's voice returned but softer this time, like he was talking more to Thomas than at him.
"You have really long lashes."
Thomas's pen slipped. He stared down at the textbook, expression neutral. "What?"
"Your lashes," Julian repeated, leaning back on his elbows now, casually sprawled across his bed like he wasn't saying something that should've felt insignificant. "Like, unfairly long. Just saying. I like it. You also have pretty brown eyes. I wish I had them, too."
Thomas didn't look up. His face remained impassive. "Okay."
Julian chuckled under his breath but said nothing more.
Thomas kept his eyes on the page. The flutter in his chest that usually came when Julian noticed things was absent. He simply read the same paragraph again, his hand gripping the pen just enough to write.
The silence between them stretched thin and strange.
Maybe they were just very different people. Or maybe something else had already started to take shape in that space between too loud words and too quiet compliments.
Without either of them saying a word, a line had been crossed.
And Thomas wasn't sure whether he wanted to step back over it or take another step forward.
The next day arrived too early, with light slicing through the blinds.
Thomas had barely slept. The mattress was too soft, the air conditioner too loud, and Julian's snore too persistent.
Not dramatically, not like a cartoon pig, but just enough to drill into the silence like a pebble in his shoe. And of course, Julian had passed out the second his head hit the pillow, looking annoyingly peaceful.
Now Julian was standing at the mirror, brushing his teeth with a rhythm that somehow still felt chaotic. He caught Thomas's reflection behind him.
"You look like you got hit by a textbook."
"I read one until 2 a.m.," Thomas muttered, pulling on a hoodie. "Not that you'd know what that feels like."
Julian grinned, mouth full of foam. "You're fun in the morning."
Thomas made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. The day hadn't even started, and he already wanted to escape to the physics lab.
Unfortunately, there was no escaping mandatory orientation.
They were herded down to the common lounge along with the rest of the dorm floor. The RA, a senior with a clipboard and the energy of a motivational speaker, clapped loudly to get everyone's attention.
"Roommate Mixer!" she announced. "You're going to do a Know Your Roomie quiz! Pairs, obviously. Don't worry, it's just for fun!"
Thomas blinked. "This is my nightmare."
Julian, standing beside him, bumped his shoulder lightly. "Come on. It'll be cute."
Thomas stiffened. "Cute? Cringe."
They sat on the scratchy carpet with a printed quiz between them. The questions were painfully unserious.
Roommate Quiz!
1."Favorite drink?"
2."Night owl or early bird?"
3."Most embarrassing childhood moment?"
4."Secret talent?"
5."Ideal weekend plan?"
"Let me guess," Julian said, tapping the paper with his pen. "You drink something with no flavor. Water or, like... raw espresso."
Thomas stared. "I drink tea."
"Of course you do. Like, precision-steeped?"
Thomas didn't answer. That was true, and Julian smirked.
"And you?" Thomas asked reluctantly.
"I root for root beer," Julian said. "It's fun and complicated, like me."
Thomas rolled his eyes but said nothing.
They got through the next few questions with less sarcasm than Thomas expected. Julian surprised him by guessing he liked quiet museums. Thomas surprised himself by not reacting at all when Julian described trying to win a dance battle at age seven and falling off a cafeteria table.
Then they hit question four.
Secret talent?
Julian tilted his head and studied Thomas. "Yours is probably remembering obscure formulas. Or... origami. You seem like you fold things."
Thomas paused. "I play piano."
Julian blinked, caught off guard. "Wait-seriously?"
Thomas nodded once, expression unreadable.
Julian didn't say anything for a moment. He just looked at him.
"What?" Thomas asked, voice flat.
Julian smiled, but it was small, soft. "Nothing. Just... you've got piano hands."
Thomas stared at him. "What does that even mean?"
Julian lifted his own hand next to Thomas's. "Long fingers. Elegant. Kinda unfair, really. You're secretly hot, and I'm just now realizing. Maybe if you take this off-" then he leaned closer and took off Thomas's glasses, "Oh-see? You'll look good without them."
Thomas's brain paused briefly. Then he looked away, grabbed his glasses from Julian's hand, and said coolly, "You're exhausting."
Julian blinked, caught off guard by Thomas's cold tone.
"You're blushing."
"What was that?"
"Nevermind."
"Shut up and finish the quiz."
They didn't win the quiz prize (a bag of cookies), but by the end, Thomas kept his distance firmly intact.
When they stood to leave, their shoulders brushed once-this time, Thomas stepped away without hesitation.
The line had been crossed, but Thomas wasn't ready to cross it again.