The fluorescent lights hummed a low, constant note, echoing the tremor in Pond's chest. He gripped the worn handle of his single suitcase, the cheap plastic digging into his palm. Detergent and fresh paint mingled with the distant, boisterous laughter of unseen students. Room 3B. He found the door, the numbers chipped at the edges. A deep breath filled his lungs, then hitched. He pushed the door inward.
A tall boy stood near the window, sunlight illuminating the fine spray of water still clinging to his hair. A white towel draped casually over one shoulder, the fabric a stark contrast to the bronzed skin beneath. He turned, a lazy smile spreading across his lips, eyes, dark and curious, locking onto Pond's. Three seconds stretched into an eternity.
"Oh," the boy's voice, a low rumble, filled the small space. "You must be my roommate."
Pond's throat felt dry. He managed a curt nod, his gaze snagging on the path of a water droplet tracing its way down the boy's neck, disappearing beneath the towel. "I'm Pond."
"Good. I was getting bored alone." Naravit gestured vaguely around the room, then back towards Pond, the smile never quite leaving his face. "Naravit. Welcome to the asylum."
Pond stepped fully into the room, the scent of citrus and something musky, distinctly Naravit, hitting him. He set his suitcase down with a soft thud. The bed on the left was already made, a stack of textbooks on the small desk beside it. Naravit's.
"You got here early," Pond observed, his voice a quiet murmur.
Naravit pushed a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "Early bird gets the worm. Or, in this case, the better side of the room." He winked, then moved towards his desk, picking up a dog-eared paperback. "Don't worry, I left you the window. You look like the type who needs a view to brood."
Pond felt a flicker of annoyance, quickly suppressed. He began to unpack, placing his few shirts into the sparse closet. The silence stretched, occasionally punctuated by the rustle of fabric or the soft clink of his glasses against the wooden desk.
"So, what brings you to the hallowed halls of academia, Pond?" Naravit's voice cut through the quiet, deceptively casual.
Pond paused, a neatly folded sweater in his hands. "Botany. Rare species research."
Naravit leaned back in his chair, the legs creaking faintly. "Plants, huh? Fascinating. Do you talk to them?"
Pond gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "They don't talk back."
"A shame. You look like you could use a good conversationalist." Naravit's eyes glinted. "Or maybe you prefer the silent type. Like me." He chuckled, a warm, resonant sound.
Pond continued unpacking, ignoring the bait. He placed a small, worn leather-bound journal on his desk, then his single, well-loved novel. His world contained a few objects.
Later, as dusk painted the sky in shades of bruised purple and faded orange, Pond found himself needing a shower. The day's travel had left a film of grime on his skin. He grabbed his towel, a clean change of clothes, and headed towards the shared bathroom down the hall.
Steam billowed from beneath the door, a faint glow escaping the crack at the bottom. He pushed it open. The small tiled room was a cloud, the air thick with the scent of soap and hot water. The rhythmic drumming of a shower already running filled the space. Pond hesitated, then stepped inside.
A figure emerged from behind the frosted glass of the shower stall closest to him, water streaming from their hair, skin slick and gleaming under the harsh overhead light. Naravit. His eyes, dark pools in the steam-hazed room, blinked, then widened slightly as he registered Pond's presence.
"You're using it too?" Naravit's voice was remarkably casual, given the circumstances. He ran a hand through his wet hair, shaking off the excess water. "The other showers are broken. I had to take what I could get."
Pond's breath caught. The room, already small, felt impossibly tiny. He could feel the heat radiating from Naravit's bare shoulders, the subtle curve of his spine, the lean muscle of his arm as he reached for the soap. Pond swallowed, his gaze fixed on the tiled wall, then slid to the running water. "I… don't mind."
Naravit's lips curved into a faint smile. He stepped back into the spray, leaving just enough room for Pond to enter the stall beside him. The water was surprisingly hot, a welcome shock against Pond's skin. He turned his back to Naravit, focusing on the simple act of washing, trying to ignore the proximity, the shared intimacy of the space.
Water traced along Naravit's collarbone, a silver path against his skin. Pond tried to focus on the intricate pattern of the tiles, counting the grout lines, anything to distract from the hum of Naravit's presence beside him.
"You're really quiet," Naravit's voice drifted over the sound of the falling water, soft, almost a whisper.
Pond squeezed shampoo into his palm, the citrus scent sharp in the steam. "And you talk too much."
A low, warm chuckle rumbled from Naravit. Pond felt it more than heard it, a vibration in the air, a subtle shift in the space between them. The water continued its steady rush, washing away the day's dust, but leaving something else in its wake.
Pond reached for the soap dish, his hand brushing against Naravit's. It was accidental, a fleeting touch of wet skin against wet skin. A jolt, sharp and unexpected, shot through Pond. He froze, his fingers still grazing Naravit's. Neither moved away immediately. The air, already heavy with steam, felt impossibly denser. A strange, unfamiliar warmth spread through Pond's chest, not from the hot water, but from something deeper.
He pulled his hand back, a sudden awkwardness settling between them. Naravit said nothing, but Pond felt his gaze, a silent question. The moment stretched, taut and fragile, before Naravit finally turned off the water, the sudden silence deafening.
Pond followed suit a moment later, his heart thrumming a strange rhythm against his ribs. He wrapped his towel around his waist, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. Naravit was already drying his hair, his movements fluid, unhurried. He glanced at Pond, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
"See you out there, Pond," Naravit said, his voice back to its usual casual tone. He pushed past Pond, the faint scent of citrus and musk lingering in his wake.
Pond watched him go, the bathroom suddenly cold and empty. He stood there for a long moment, the water still dripping from his hair, the faint imprint of Naravit's touch still on his hand. Something had been planted, a tiny, almost imperceptible seed. And neither of them knew yet how deep it would grow.