The dorm hallway smelled like laundry detergent and someone else's dinner.
Luca pushed open the door to his shared room, letting it swing shut behind him with a soft click.
Noel wasn't there.
The bed on the left was untouched, perfectly made like some showroom display.
A stack of books leaned against the wall beside it, arranged by height. A small desk lamp sat in the corner, switched off. Neat, quiet, and borderline suspicious.
Luca peeled off his jacket and tossed it onto his own bed—the one with the wrinkled sheets and yesterday's hoodie still balled up at the noel chair.
He lingered at the small table wedged between his bed and the window. Unlike Noel's, his was bare.
Just a laptop, a phone charger, and a forgotten energy drink can. He pulled the chair out with a foot and dropped into it.
A beat passed.
Then another.
He reached for his earbuds, pushed one in, then the other. The familiar ding of connection, and then the music kicked in—bass-heavy, chaotic, the kind that filled the space in your chest when silence started whispering too loud.
His screen lit up with the familiar PUBG interface. A few taps, a quick match, and he was dropping onto a virtual battleground. Fingers moved instinctively. Head tilted slightly. Eyes narrowed.
He didn't even look at the clock.
Halfway through his second game, with his character crawling through pixelated grass and the faint sound of gunfire in his ears, Luca pulled his phone toward him.
He opened the food delivery app, scrolled briefly, then tapped KFC.
—6-Piece chicken bucket —Spicy fries —Two drinks, just in case
He stared at the last item a second longer, then added a soda and removed the second one.
"Cool," he muttered, hitting Confirm.
Back in the game, Luca's avatar crouched beside a rusted jeep. The desert map was quiet. Too quiet. A teammate pinged an enemy. He turned—too late.
A sniper round cracked. Screen splattered red. He didn't flinch.
Respawn countdown began: 3… 2… 1…
A knock rattled the door just as Luca's squad lost the match.
Sharp. Final. It echoed louder than the sniper shot that ended him.
He yanked the earbuds out, tossed them onto the bed, and padded over barefoot.
"Delivery," the guy said flatly, holding out the KFC bag like it offended him.
"Music to my soul," Luca grinned, trading crumpled bills for the food. "Keep the change."
He didn't wait for a reply, just kicked the door shut behind him and dumped the bag onto the chair he'd just vacated.
The room filled with the scent of fried chicken and salty fries in seconds.
He collapsed onto the floor, legs stretched, like the day had already won,and pulled the bucket into his lap.
The game was still running on his laptop, but he ignored it now. Grease slicked his fingers in no time, and he wiped them on his napkin without hesitation.
A fry fell between his legs. Another landed near his power strip.
He didn't pick either up.
Mid-bite, he leaned back and opened a soda, the tssssk echoing in the quiet room. He took a long sip, then belched without apology.
"God bless oil and carbs," he mumbled with a lazy smile.
Ten minutes later, the chicken bucket sat empty on the floor.
The box of fries half-spilled across the table. His soda was balanced dangerously on the edge of the desk.
He stretched out fully on the floor now, one arm beneath his head, the other scrolling through his phone. The wrapper from his biscuit clung to his sock.
Noel's half of the room still looked untouched—lamp off, books straight, bed tucked. Luca's side looked like a fast-food war zone.
Luca tossed the now-empty chicken bucket onto the desk beside his laptop, grease still on his fingers as he reached for the mouse.
He popped his earbuds back in and clicked into another round of PUBG, volume high, the bass vibrating through his skull.
The room, now thick with the smell of fast food and half-eaten fries, looked nothing like the quiet dorm it had been that morning. His hoodie was still flung over Noel's chair.
The soda can sat dangerously close to the edge. A lone biscuit wrapper fluttered under the breeze of the ceiling fan.
He didn't notice the door open.
Noel stepped inside, backpack slung over one shoulder. He paused just past the threshold, gaze sweeping over the room—at the wrappers, the discarded food, the half-crushed fry near the keyboard.
And Luca. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, headphones in, eyes glued to the screen, mumbling strategies under his breath.
"Down! Behind the crate—no, no, no, idiot! Ugh—useless teammates…"
Noel dropped his bag on his bed quietly. Still, nothing.
He walked over to his desk and pulled out a chair with a sharp scrape.
That got Luca.
He jerked around, one earbud dangling like a white flag. "Oh. Hey."
Noel didn't answer. He started tidying his desk instead, stacking his books into a neat line.
Luca peeled his earbuds out and scratched his neck. "You've been gone long?"
Noel's gaze lingered, sharp and unreadable. "Long enough," he said, voice tight like he'd swallowed the rest of the sentence.
Luca blinked. "Cool. You hungry?"
Noel glanced at the mess, then back at him. "Clearly, you weren't waiting."
Luca's laugh was soft—too soft. "Fair," he muttered, but he didn't reach for another fry.
But Noel was already pulling out a notebook inside his drawer, the conversation dying before it even started.
Luca reached for a cold fry and popped it into his mouth.
"Roommate of the year," he muttered under his breath, not sure if he meant it sarcastically or not.
Noel didn't speak again. He walked over to his side of the room, unzipped his backpack halfway, paused—and without saying a word, turned toward the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the wall hook on the way.
Luca watched him go, head tilted slightly. The sound of running water started a moment later.
He leaned back onto the floor, controller still in hand, and let the game run on idle. One character crouched behind a barrel on-screen, frozen. Luca stared at it without playing.
Ten minutes passed.
He didn't press restart. The game waited, but for once, Luca didn't.
He blinked, finally noticing the biscuit wrapper clinging to his sock.
The running water blurred into white noise.
Luca didn't move. His fingers hovered over the controller.
Just once, he thought. Just once, I wish he'd stay.