Friday nights at Windsor were sacred.
No mandatory dinners, no club meetings, and no assignments due before Monday. For most students, it meant house parties, sports betting, or sneaking wine out of the faculty lounge.
But for Room 3C—it meant "Brother Pact Night."
No phones. No filters. No secrets.
Felix had set the tone early: he walked in wearing silk pajamas, carrying a family-sized bag of marshmallows and a Bluetooth speaker blaring 90s love ballads.
"Gentlemen," he announced, "tonight we bare our souls and maybe our emotional baggage."
Rafael was already shirtless, lifting weights by the window. Adrian sat cross-legged on his bed with a Rubik's cube, pretending not to listen.
Leon leaned back on his headboard, arms crossed, hiding a grin.
"Alright, Leo," Felix said, mouth full of sugar. "You first. You've been floating like a lovesick ghost all week. Spill."
Rafael smirked. "He means Evelyn."
Leon raised an eyebrow. "How do you all know?"
Adrian didn't even look up. "You changed your hair the day after she complimented it."
Felix gasped. "He did. I knew that wasn't product—it was purpose!"
Leon laughed, then grew quiet.
"She's… different."
The room settled.
He wasn't usually one to share feelings. But with them—it felt safe.
"I feel like I knew her before I met her," he said. "Like she's this… piece of music I've heard in a dream."
"Oh damn," Felix whispered. "That's dangerously poetic."
"You should say that to her," Rafael said.
"No," Adrian replied calmly. "You should wait. She doesn't respond to noise. She responds to… consistency."
Leon nodded slowly. "Exactly."
There was a pause. Then Felix tossed a marshmallow at him.
"Okay, now say something dumb so we can reset the emotional bar."
Leon smirked. "You're not eating those marshmallows. You're storing them in your cheeks like a chipmunk."
"Rude but accurate," Felix said, mouth stuffed.
Rafael dropped his weights with a thud. "So what's the plan?"
Leon looked up.
"No plans. No rushing. I just want to… not mess it up this time."
The others didn't question the word "this". They never did.
They just nodded.
Felix stood up dramatically, raising his soda can like a wine glass.
"To Evelyn," he said.
"To not messing it up," Rafael added.
Adrian, surprisingly, raised his bottle too. "To symmetry."
Leon lifted his own drink.
"To this," he said. "Whatever it is."
Four cans clinked in the warm yellow light of the dorm room.
And somewhere outside, the night was quiet enough
to hear the start of something real.