Dhatri groaned, the sunlight piercing through his eyelids like a physical weight. He expected the room to smell like a locker room—stale sweat and the lingering sourness of last night’s binge. Instead, the air was unnervingly crisp. There was no humidity, no scent of cheap floral lotions, just the faint, clinical hum of a high-end air purifier working in the corner.
The room was spotless. The chaos of his unpacked bags had been shoved aside, leaving the floor clear and the surfaces gleaming.
Dhatri rubbed his eyes, his vision adjusting to the soft glow of the morning sun. His heart skipped a beat, then hammered against his ribs in a sudden jolt of adrenaline.
Leutik was sitting at his desk, perfectly composed. He was wearing a clean, oversized cream sweater that made his frame look even smaller. One hand held a pair of chopsticks, lifting a piece of fruit with surgical precision, while the other reached up to tuck a stray strand of his bob cut behind his ear. Wireless earbuds were nestled in his ears, and he was humming a low, melodic tune that vibrated through the quiet room.
He looked like a painting. He looked soft. He looked like everything Dhatri had been taught to despise.
The sight sent a surge of pure, unadulterated rage through Dhatri’s chest. It wasn't just the "femininity"; it was the way Leutik ignored him, existing in a bubble of calm that Dhatri couldn't penetrate.
"Unbelievable," Dhatri hissed, though Leutik couldn't hear him.
He threw back his covers, the bedsprings shrieking under his sudden movement. He didn't care about being quiet. He wanted to break the peace. Dhatri stood up and began stomping across the linoleum floor, his heavy footsteps echoing like gunfire.
He didn't look back. He didn't want to see that delicate profile or the way the light hit Leutik’s collarbones again. He slammed the bathroom door shut, the bang vibrating the entire wall, desperate to drown out the sight of a roommate who made his skin crawl with a confusion he refused to name.
*
The bathroom door swung open, but the room was silent. Dhatri scanned the space, his damp hair dripping onto his shoulders, but the Biochemistry major was gone. No humming, no clicking of chopsticks, no presence at all.
His eyes immediately drifted to the floor where he’d launched Leutik’s bag the night before.
The hallway was empty, and the bag was back on Leutik's desk. Everything, every serum, every glass bottle, every pastel-colored shirt was perfectly organized as if it had never been touched. Dhatri’s gaze shifted to the bed. The standard-issue university linens were gone, replaced by charcoal-grey satin sheets that looked disgustingly soft. The pillowcase caught the morning light with a subtle sheen that made Dhatri’s lip curl.
"Freak," Dhatri muttered, though his voice sounded hollow in the empty room.
He turned to his own mess, his stomach letting out a sharp, hollow growl. He ripped through his duffel bag, tossing aside crumpled jerseys and gym socks until his hand hit something crinkly. He pulled out a flattened, chalky protein bar, his breakfast of champions.
He leaned against his dresser, tearing the wrapper with his teeth and chewing the dry mass while staring at the satin pillows across the room. The lack of confrontation felt like a loss. He’d expected a fight, a complaint to the RA, or at least a dirty look. Instead, Leutik had just cleaned up Dhatri's mess and vanished.
Dhatri grabbed a random t-shirt and yanked it over his head, the fabric smelling faintly of the gym bag. He didn't have a schedule printed out, and his head still felt like someone was using it for kickboxing practice.
"Physical Ed," he grunted, grabbing his phone. "How hard can it be? Just showing up and being the biggest guy in the room."
He slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway as he headed toward his first lecture, determined to find his "real" friends and forget the silk-sheeted nightmare waiting for him back in Room 302.
The lecture hall for the Faculty of Sports Science was exactly where Dhatri felt he belonged. Surrounded by the scent of deep heat rub and the sound of knuckles cracking, he sat centered in a row of guys who looked like they’d been carved out of granite. These were his people—the "Alphas" of the freshman class.
"Check out the kid in the front row," one of the guys, a massive rower named Kael, whispered with a snicker. "Tight jeans and a messenger bag? This is PE, not a fashion show."
Dhatri felt a surge of familiar comfort as the group erupted into low, mocking laughter. This was the ritual: find the weak, label them, and remind everyone else who sat at the top of the food chain. For two hours, the lecture on kinesiology was just background noise to their whispered jokes about "soy boys" and anyone who didn't spend at least four hours a day at the squat rack.
As the professor dismissed the class, the pack migrated toward the campus canteen, their heavy footsteps synchronized.
"So, Dhatri," Kael said, throwing a heavy arm over Dhatri’s shoulder. "How’s the dorm? You get a real roommate or a dud?"
Dhatri’s jaw tightened, the image of Leutik’s satin pillows and calm, porcelain face flashing unbidden in his mind.
"Don't even get me started," Dhatri growled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I got stuck with some Biochemistry freak. Looks like a girl, smells like a pharmacy, and has more skincare products than my mom."
"No way," another guy chimed in, laughing so hard he nearly choked on his protein shake. "You got a lady-boy? Man, I’d be sleeping with one eye open. Those types... they’re always looking for a way in, you know?"
"Shut up," Dhatri snapped, though he felt a sick sense of validation from their mockery. "I already threw his stuff out once. If he breathes wrong, he’s out the window next."
"That’s the spirit," Kael grinned, clapping him on the back. "Don’t let them infect the space. Keep it pure, bro. Masculinity under siege, right?"
Dhatri nodded, forcing a smirk. He felt powerful here, backed by the collective disdain of his peers. But as the conversation shifted to their afternoon training, a small, irritating part of his brain kept wondering what Leutik was doing in their room—and if those dark, steady eyes were still tracking his every move.
ns216.73.216.116da2
and then Add to home screen.