DARK CHEMISTRY
Classes finally ended, and Lizzie stepped out of the campus building with her bag clutched tight against her chest. She still felt dizzy—like she wasn't walking on the ground but floating somewhere far above it.
Her shoulder pulsed gently beneath her collar.
A constant reminder.
A hidden heat.
How am I supposed to survive this man…
She stared at the crumpled paper of directions the college had given her.
Dormitory Block C, Room 207.
The campus was huge.
Crowds of students were everywhere.
Lizzie turned the paper around… then upside down… then back again.
"…I'm lost again," she whispered helplessly.
She walked past the cafeteria.
Past the fountain.
Past a building that definitely wasn't Block C.
She even circled the same statue twice.
Her phone buzzed.
It was a text from Moana:
Moana:
Reached your dorm yet? Poland looks so cool! Send pics of your room!
Lizzie stared at her surroundings—
three different buildings, none labeled correctly,
and a cat sitting on top of a vending machine staring at her like it knew she was lost.
Lizzie sighed.
Lizzie:
…I might be lost.
She put her phone away and marched forward with determination, turning left, then another left—
She walked straight into a dead end.
And because fate had a sense of humor, a cleaning lady mopping the corner looked at her sympathetically.
"You new student?" she asked.
Lizzie nodded shyly. "Room 207… Block C…"
The woman pointed a mop toward the opposite direction.
"You're going the wrong way, sweetheart. Block C's behind the cafeteria. Big brown building."
"Oh! T-Thank you!"
Lizzie hurried off, finally turning the right path. When she reached the brown building, she almost cried with relief.
The dorms were warm, quiet, and smelled faintly of fresh laundry.
She climbed the stairs to the second floor, her suitcase wheels clacking softly behind her, until she found—
207
Her room.
She unlocked the door with a trembling hand.
The room was small but cozy—two beds, two desks, a big window with sunlight pouring in. The other bed had already been neatly arranged, meaning her roommate had arrived earlier.
Lizzie placed her suitcase on the empty bed, exhaling shakily.
Finally.
She sat down, pressing her palms over her burning cheeks.
What is happening to me… what is happening to us…
Her shoulder throbbed softly—
the hickey still hidden under her collar.
Her phone buzzed again.
She checked.
Daniel:
Are you in your dorm?
Lizzie swallowed.
Lizzie:
Y-Yes… just arrived…
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then—
Daniel:
Good.
Lock the door.
Lizzie's heart stopped.
Lizzie locked the door like he said…
but then just stood there, staring at the tiny room in silence.
Her heartbeat slowed.
Her nerves settled.
And reality crept back in.
She was in a whole new country.
A whole new college.
A whole new life.
And her dorm looked… painfully empty.
A bare desk.
Plain white walls.
A lonely bed with plain blue sheets.
No posters.
No fairy lights.
Not even a plant.
"…This looks like a prison cell," she whispered.
Her shoulder still tingled from his mark, but the boredom hit her harder now. She needed something to do before she started overthinking every second of what happened earlier.
She stood up with determination.
"Okay. I'm decorating."
She unpacked her suitcase, pulling out the little things she brought from home:
— A stack of cute pastel sticky notes
— Her plushie of a tiny pink bunny
— A long string of fairy lights
— Polaroid photos of her and Moana
— A tiny desk plant in a lavender pot
— Her favorite lavender-scented candle (electric, not real fire)
— A soft fluffy blanket
— A pastel purple rug folded neatly at the bottom of her bag
Slowly, the room transformed.
Fairy lights were draped along the window frame, glowing softly.
Her plush bunny sat proudly on her pillow.
She pinned photos around her desk—Moana making a peace sign, a blurry selfie of Lizzie laughing, a scenic shot of the mountains in Seoul.
The tiny plant sat on the desk corner like a companion.
The lavender blanket lay smoothly across her bed, instantly making it look softer.
The rug made the cold floor look warm.
Lizzie stepped back, hands on her hips.
"Ohhh… this is so much better," she whispered proudly.
The room looked warm.
Comfortable.
Like hers.
She sat on her decorated bed, hugging her bunny plushie.
Boredom gone.
But now something else crept in.
The memory of his lips.
His whisper.
His mark on her shoulder.
Lizzie hid her face in the plushie.
"I'm doomed…"
She lay back on her bed, staring up at the fairy lights, feeling her whole chest flutter.
Just then—
Her phone vibrated.
Daniel:
What are you doing?
Lizzie gasped and nearly threw her phone.
With trembling fingers, she typed:
Lizzie:
D-Decorating my room…
Immediately, he replied—
Daniel:
Send me a picture.
Lizzie froze.
Her newly decorated, pastel, plushie-filled, fairy-light room…
And he wanted to see it?
Her face turned bright red.
Should she send it… or not…?
Lizzie stared at her phone like it was a bomb about to go off.
Send me a picture.
He said it so casually.
So simply.
Like her room wasn't the softest, pinkest, cutest explosion of pastel innocence.
She squeaked into her pillow.
"What do I doooo…"
Her heart thumped so loudly it was ridiculous.
But she took a breath, stood up, and snapped a picture of her room—the fairy lights, the little plant, the plush bunny, the fluffy blanket, the rug.
She hesitated for a full ten seconds…
Then sent it.
Lizzie:
Here… it's not much…
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then they stayed.
And stayed.
And stayed.
Lizzie felt like fainting.
Finally—
Daniel:
…Lizzie.
The tone.
That tone.
Oh no.
Another message came.
Daniel:
Your room looks exactly like you.
Her entire face went red.
Lizzie:
w-what do you mean??
The reply was instant.
Daniel:
Soft. Warm. Sweet. And too cute for its own good.
Lizzie covered her burning face and rolled onto the bed.
"Why… why does he talk like that…"
But then another message arrived.
Daniel:
Show me your desk.
She froze.
Lizzie:
m-my desk? why?
Daniel:
Because I want to see where you'll be studying.
Where you'll be writing notes.
Where you'll be sitting every night.
Her heart dropped to her stomach.
Why did that sound so intimate?
Lizzie swallowed hard, lifted her phone with a shaking hand, and took a picture of her small, neat study desk—the lavender pot plant, the pastel pens, the soft binder, the lit LED candle.
She sent it.
A moment passed.
Then—
Daniel:
…Good.
A tidy desk means a tidy mind.
And I like you tidy.
Lizzie buried her face in her pillow again.
But Daniel wasn't done.
Daniel:
Now show me your bed.
Lizzie SAT UP so fast she got dizzy.
Her bed???
Her BED??
Where she sleeps??
Where she dreams of—
"No no no no—"
Lizzie:
Wh-why???
Daniel:
Because.
That's where my student rests.
And I want to make sure you're comfortable.
Her soul left her body.
Hands trembling, face exploding in heat, she snapped a shy picture of her bed—the plush bunny, the soft blanket, the fairy lights glowing above it.
She sent it.
For a full 15 seconds, Daniel didn't reply.
Then—
Daniel:
Don't move.
Her heart stopped.
Another message followed:
Daniel:
I'm coming over.
Lizzie's phone slipped from her hands as she choked on air.
He
was
coming
to her dorm.
Right now.
To her room.
Her decorated, pastel, cute, soft room—
"OH MY GOD—"