Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wind Archer hadn’t planned on college, and he definitely hadn’t planned on Fire Spirit.

College wasn’t his style — not at all. All Wind Archer wanted was to settle down and protect the forest he called home. But a few days after he graduated the rollercoaster that was high school, Millennial Tree summoned him to his office.

Wind Archer remembered it vividly. The way Millennial Tree made small talk, cracked a few jokes — before hitting him with the brick that was the news: he would have to go to college. He protested, argued, and even begged. Something he almost never did. Normally, he followed his master's orders without question. But telling Wind Archer he would have to go back into the chaos of crowds and noise, after everything he'd gone through in school? That was another matter.

Still, Wind Archer knew better than to keep fighting. There was no point arguing with destiny — not when it wore the face of someone he trusted. So, begrudgingly, he obliged.

Chapter Text

He hoped — prayed — for a quiet roommate. After everything, surely he deserved that much, right?

Trudging up the stairs to the dorm complex, Wind Archer tried to stay positive. College couldn’t be harder than high school.
Sure, there was the drinking and party culture, but he wasn’t planning on participating in that mess anyway.
Everyone was supposed to be older, more mature... hopefully less cruel.

Reaching the top of the stairs on the third floor, he shifted his heavy luggage and walked reluctantly down the hallway, scanning for room numbers.
The smell of mold and old coffee lingering in the air definitely didn’t help his nerves.
302... 303... 304.
With a sigh, he dropped his bags with a thud.
Fumbling through his pockets for the key, he paused, hand hovering at the lock.
One deep breath.
Then he slid the key into the door.

He opened the door, and was immediately overwhelmed.

Clothes were scattered everywhere without a care in the world. Luggage lined the floor, making it nearly impossible to maneuver through, and two energy drinks sat on the desk, one of them open and fizzing ominously.

A certain redhead lay sprawled across one of the beds like he’d already moved in, totally at ease.

“You’re late!” the redhead announced with a smirk.

There went all hope for a quiet semester.

Wind Archer stepped over a shirt sprawled across the floor. “Move in was at four. I’m not late.”

“Well, you know what they say! ‘Early is on time, and on time is late’... or however it goes,” the other said, grabbing the unopened energy drink from the desk.

“Want one?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” He popped the tab open with a hiss. “Anyway, I should probably introduce myself. I’m Fire Spirit — but you can call me Flame. Or Hotstuff. Or whatever you want, really. I’m chill like that.”

He smiled proudly at himself, like that was the most impressive sentence he’d ever spoken.

Wind Archer didn’t know it was possible to hate someone so quickly.

“My name is Wind Archer. When are you cleaning up this mess?”

He tried to ignore the disaster zone Fire Spirit had created. Honestly, the room itself wasn’t too bad, a little bland, but functional. Nothing like the woodland mansion he’d grown up in under Millennial Tree’s roof, but it would do. Two beds, two desks, two wardrobes. Standard.

“Whoa, feisty! I like it,” Fire Spirit replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up sooner or later, roomie!”

Wind Archer cringed at the nickname. “Roomie?” Seriously? What were they, twelve?

With a sigh, he lifted his bags and moved to his side of the room, starting to unpack. He hadn’t brought much, Millennial Tree had given him a generous allowance and told him to just buy what he needed once he arrived. Easier to travel light.

Folding his few clothes and sliding them into the wardrobe, Wind Archer wondered what college would be like now — with him as a roommate.

This guy was a complete copy-paste of the ones who used to pick on him in high school: confident, self-centered, careless.

He sighed and made a mental note to ask about transferring dorms.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he noticed the fiery individual’s eyes on him.

He chose to ignore it and kept unpacking. His social battery was already drained to zero from today’s forced interactions.

Finishing unpacking, Wind Archer stood up without a word and made a straight line for the door.

“Hey! Just where do you think you’re going?” Fire Spirit called out, clearly thrown by the sudden exit.

“Out,” Wind Archer replied dryly, not even glancing back.

Chapter Text

Shutting the door behind him, Wind Archer felt a wave of relief rush over him.

Classes hadn’t even started, yet he was already having a terrible year. Part of him felt a twinge of remorse for storming out like that, and Fire Spirit’s reaction hadn’t helped.

Speeding down the stairs, Wind Archer decided to explore the campus. Wandering aimlessly would be better than staying in that hellhole of a dorm.

Outside, he paused to admire the building. It really was beautiful; all carved stone and old architecture — but it was the greenery that transformed it into something almost majestic.

As he strolled past the flowerbeds and winding paths, a bittersweet feeling settled over him.

The trees, the soft wind, the scattered patches of wildflowers... they should’ve comforted him. But they only made the ache sharper.

He hadn’t been gone long, but he already missed the forest. He missed the cheerful chirping birds, the vibrant splashes of color hidden in the grass, and most of all, he missed Millennial Tree.

Just being near him always made Wind Archer feel safe. Grounded. Like he was someone worth something. Like he wasn’t so alone in this big world.

Whatever. He was here, and there was nothing he could do about that.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Wind Archer checked his schedule for tomorrow.

English Literature at 10 a.m.

Herbology at 2 p.m.

Not bad — a nice, short day.

Unfortunately, the campus layout was a nightmare. He had no idea where either class was.

After a long internal debate, he made a choice he was sure he’d regret: asking someone.

His eyes scanned the passing students until they landed on a tall, blue-haired girl. She looked... nice enough. Nervously, he approached.

“Um... hi. I’m new here, and I was just wondering where the English and Herbology buildings are?” he managed to stammer.

Up close, she was actually really pretty. Her azure eyes had a way of cutting right through him, and her long hair framed her face like she’d stepped out of a painting.

Not that he was attracted to her or anything. He just appreciated beauty when he saw it.

She nodded slowly and pointed toward a nearby stand handing out flyers.

“Oh... um, thanks,” Wind Archer muttered under his breath.

Guess she wasn’t the talkative type.

He walked over to the stand and picked up a flyer.

Turned out it was actually a campus map — which, to be fair, was much more helpful than someone trying to explain every building.

Following the map, he managed to find his classes without too much trouble and did his best to memorize the path for tomorrow.

It was 6 p.m.

The rational part of his brain told him to head back, sort his things, maybe get an early night before the first day of classes.

The other part of his brain reminded him that Fire Spirit was probably still in the dorm — and probably still hadn’t cleaned anything up.

Sure, a normal person would be out exploring like he was... but from what he’d seen, Fire Spirit wasn’t exactly “normal.”

Before his brain could break into a full-blown debate, Wind Archer made a decision.

He had to face it eventually. Might as well get it over with. 

He made his way back to the dorm, mentally preparing himself for a hoarder’s den.

If the mess was still there, he’d march down to student services first thing in the morning and demand a room transfer. He wasn’t about to live in filth, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one constantly cleaning up after someone else.

He reached the door. Twisting the key, he held his breath. The door swung open.

Oh?

Fire Spirit flashed him a smug smile from his bed.
“So... what do ya think?”

Now that Wind Archer looked closer... yeah, it was cleaner. Sort of. The clothes had been shoved under the bed, drawers were clearly forced shut to hide the rest, and a sticky energy drink ring still stained the desk.

Also, the candle. It smelled like a gym locker trying to be vanilla.

Still, it was more effort than he’d expected.

“You just shoved everything under your bed,” he said flatly.

“Hey! It’s called strategic storage. And you’re welcome, by the way. I don’t do this for just anyone, y’knowww.”

Wind Archer didn’t respond. He just walked to his bed and dropped onto it with a sigh.

Chapter Text

Wind Archer stared at the ceiling, mind finally blank after such an exhausting day. He hadn’t realized just how physically drained he was until now—until the soft sheets beneath him coaxed his tense muscles into relaxing. A quiet sigh slipped from his chest before he could stop it.

“I’m gonna go out for a bite. Wanna come?” Fire Spirit asked from across the room, eyes already on him.

Now that he thought about it, Wind Archer hadn’t eaten in hours. The last time must’ve been sometime before he left the forest. Right on cue, his stomach growled—loudly.

He immediately sucked in his stomach, mortified. It didn’t help.

“Haha! Come on, you can’t argue with your stomach!” Fire Spirit laughed, clearly delighted at how red Wind Archer’s face had turned.

“No. I’m fine,” Wind Archer muttered, abruptly turning away to hide the blush still burning across his cheeks. His own body had betrayed him, and he was not forgiving it any time soon.

“Come onnn, my treat! Wherever you want,” Fire Spirit offered, widening his eyes like a puppy and locking onto Wind Archer’s in a dramatic, over-the-top stare.

“No.”

“Ughhhh, you’re insufferable!” Fire Spirit groaned. “I’ll be back in an hour. Try not to die in here.”

Without even bothering to change out of his stained pajamas, he grabbed his wallet and headed for the door.

Finally—sweet, blissful peace.

Wind Archer exhaled slowly, eyes falling shut. Quiet at last.
Did Fire Spirit really think he cared when he’d be back?
The longer he stayed gone, the better.
Settling into the quiet, Wind Archer decided to take advantage of Fire Spirit’s absence. Throughout the day, the smallest things had tugged at memories of the only place where he could truly be himself — the forest. He’d been looking forward to seeing it again, even if it was only through a video call.

Opening the drawer of his wardrobe, he pulled out the sleek laptop Millennial Tree had gifted him as an apology for sending him off to college. He hadn’t trusted Fire Spirit enough to leave it out in the open — it didn’t even have a password. He had nothing to hide from Millennial Tree... but Fire Spirit? There was plenty he wanted to keep to himself.

Booting up the laptop, he opened FaceTime and placed a call. It was only 7 PM — Millennial Tree should still be awake.

Ring.

The call connected almost instantly.

“Hello, Windy! I’ve been waiting for your call. How was move-in day?” Millennial Tree’s warm voice filled the screen as he leaned closer.

“Hey. It was alright,” Wind Archer replied, voice carefully neutral.

“Oh, come now — you’re not a moody teenager anymore. Give me the full story! How’s the roommate?” Millennial Tree pressed, not satisfied with the vague answer.

Wind Archer hesitated. Should he be honest? Should he tell Millennial Tree how awful the day had really been — the careless roommate, the mess, the endless annoyance?

“Hello? Still with me?” the familiar voice broke his spiral of thoughts.

Snapping out of it, Wind Archer chose a half-truth, just enough to avoid worrying him.
“Well... my roommate’s a little messy. A bit of a chatterbox. But nothing I can’t handle. Everything else is fine.”

“Haha! That’s good. Who knows — maybe he’ll break that shell of yours.” Millennial Tree chuckled, clearly pleased at the possibility.

As if. Fire Spirit was just another jock. Nothing more.

“Maybe,” Wind Archer murmured, not wanting to disappoint the only person who actually cared.

They chatted a while longer — updates about the forest, small talk about classes — and Wind Archer carefully shaped his words to soften how miserable he actually felt. Eventually, Millennial Tree excused himself to take care of some things, leaving Wind Archer alone once again.

Still no sign of Fire Spirit. Good.

Wind Archer moved to prepare for his first official day. He packed his bag — a simple black one, nothing flashy. Pencil case, reading book, done.

Now his outfit. He didn’t care for trends; simple, minimalistic clothes were more his speed. Sweatpants seemed like a good choice — comfortable, low effort. But... would people dress up on the first day? High schoolers always did, wearing their newest and most expensive outfits. College was different, though. Less pretentious? He hoped.

Best not to overthink it. Sweatpants and a black shirt. That would do.

Finally, he set his alarm. First class at 10 AM. 7:30 seemed safe — early enough to not rush, not so early he’d be exhausted.

Done. Everything was ready. All he could do now was try to rest.
Wind Archer had just clicked off his alarm when the door creaked open. In came a slightly damp Fire Spirit, balancing two takeout boxes in one hand and nudging the door shut with his foot. His shiny red hair stuck to his forehead, leaving him looking like an edgy teenager.

“Yo—didn’t expect it to rain,” he greeted with a grin, seemingly unfazed by the fact water was literally dripping from him. Tossing the containers onto Wind Archer’s desk, he locked the door behind him.

Wind Archer blinked slowly, calculating his next move. He hadn’t asked for this. In fact, he’d specifically said he didn’t want anything… but he couldn’t exactly waste it, either.

“Didn’t know what you liked, so I just got both. One’s dumplings, one’s noodles.”

“I said I didn’t want anything,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember you saying something like that… but your stomach said otherwise, sooo…” Fire Spirit shot back with a mischievous smirk, kicking off his shoes.
“Plus, you were gonna get hungry eventually. But hey, if you don’t want it, I’ll eat it!”

He didn’t say it like a grand gesture — more like it was the most normal thing in the world. His bag hit the floor with a dull thump as he flopped onto his bed, not caring that he was soaking the sheets.

Wind Archer eyed the food warily, lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t want to owe Fire Spirit anything. Still… the smell wafting from the box was very convincing.

With a quiet sigh, he slid the container open and turned slightly away from Fire Spirit.
Maybe just a few bites. Nothing more.

After he finished eating, he glanced back over — Fire Spirit was already dozing off, breaths slow and even.

Well, it was getting late.

Wind Archer tiptoed to the light switch, careful not to awaken the slumbering beast, and flicked the lights off.
Now the hard part: falling asleep.

Eventually, he drifted off, dreams pulling him under. Dreams of his first day… and of the redhead on the opposite side of the room causing chaos.

Chapter Text

Ring.
Ring.

The sharp trill of his alarm dragged Wind Archer from sleep. For a few long seconds, he blinked blearily at the ceiling, disoriented — he'd expected a sky of clouds, not a plain white dorm room. Right… he was at college. First day.

He had thought falling asleep in a new place would be difficult, but surprisingly, it hadn’t been.

Rolling onto his side, he silenced the alarm and stretched. Morning light streamed through the thin curtains, casting warm streaks of orange across the room.

Across from him, Fire Spirit was a tangle of limbs and blankets, one arm dangling off the edge of the bed. A faint snore slipped from his mouth, accompanied by an ungraceful trail of drool. His chest rose and fell steadily. Still asleep. Good.

Wind Archer sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His body was stiff, but he’d managed more rest than usual. Gathering his toothbrush, towel, and soap from the drawer, he carefully cracked open the door and slipped into the bathroom.

He hadn’t even had time to inspect it yesterday. Nothing fancy — just a small, clean space: a sink with a cabinet, a toilet, and a decently sized shower. Stripping quickly, he stepped under the water.

The hot spray did wonders, washing away the last of yesterday’s tension. A few minutes later, he shut off the water and reached for his towel —
only to realize with a jolt that he’d forgotten a change of clothes.

Perfect.

Wrapping the towel tightly around his waist, he hurried back into the bedroom. His steps were light as feathers as he crept to the wardrobe, praying Fire Spirit wouldn’t stir and catch him half-dressed.

Quickly, he pulled on the outfit he’d laid out the night before: simple black shirt and sweatpants. At the mirror, he ran a hand through his stubborn hair, smoothing it as best he could. Good enough.

Bag packed, checklist complete.

8:30 AM.

Wind Archer exhaled slowly.
He probably shouldn’t have woken up so early. Now he was ready — with way too much time to kill.
Wind Archer slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped quietly out of the dorm room, careful not to disturb Fire Spirit, still snoring on the other side of the room. The morning light had deepened since he first woke up, soft gold cutting through the clouds and dappling the walkway outside. The crispness of the air bit lightly at his skin, but it was invigorating more than anything else.

His stomach gave a slight grumble, reminding him of yesterday’s events—a surprising act of kindness from Fire Spirit. Begrudgingly, he admitted that he should get something to eat before class. After all, he’d promised Millennial Tree he would take care of himself.

He made his way to the small campus café he’d passed during his walk yesterday. It was nestled beneath a canopy of trees, with glass walls and warm lights glowing inside. The line was mercifully short this early in the morning.
Wind Archer studied the menu, carefully contemplating his choices. Something light and simple would be best for the morning…

Ultimately, he decided on a croissant and some herbal tea—healthy and low calorie.

Seated near the window, he sipped from the ceramic cup, the heat comforting against the chill of the morning. Slowly eating, he allowed his thoughts to settle. Despite the chaotic arrival the day before, this small moment of quiet almost made him feel normal again. As if he had never left home. Although he would never admit it aloud, this change of location was hitting him harder than expected; any moment of reflection only reminded him of what he had left behind.

He had never been away from home for this long. He’d turned down school trips, refused every sleepover Millennial Tree arranged in an attempt to help him make friends, and always gone straight home from school. Back then, it had only been six hours away from home at most. Now it had been nearly forty hours.
He regretted never giving himself the chance to experience separation sooner. He was eighteen, and here he was—pining like a child.

Right. Thinking about it wouldn’t help.

He finished the last bit of his croissant and left the café. As he walked, a thought crossed his mind: he’d forgotten to pack his laptop. Ugh. He really was growing more forgetful lately.

The door creaked softly as he pushed it open. To his surprise, Fire Spirit was sitting up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His crimson hair stuck out at odd angles, and a deep pillow crease was etched onto his right cheek.

“Morning,” Fire Spirit greeted, voice raspy with sleep but still wearing that ever-present grin. “Up early, tree boy. What’s the occasion?”

Wind Archer set his empty cup on his desk, eye twitching slightly at the nickname, though he chose to ignore it. It was too early to argue.

“Obviously, my first class.”

Fire Spirit swung his legs off the bed, stretching his arms with an exaggerated yawn. “Your first class starts at 10 a.m. Most people would just now be waking up, but clearly you’ve already gone for a stroll.” His eyes flicked to Wind Archer’s empty cup.

Oh… maybe he should have grabbed something for Fire Spirit. He had, after all, spent money on much-needed food yesterday—even after Wind Archer refused. Whatever. That had been Fire Spirit’s choice. It wasn’t like he’d asked for it. Still, Wind Archer made a mental note to get something next time. The other clearly expected something in return.

Wait. How did Fire Spirit know when his class started? He’d never mentioned it.

“How do you know when my class is?” Wind Archer asked, narrowing his eyes.

Fire Spirit only grinned, unfazed. “Heh, that’s a secret,” he teased, winking.

Wind Archer’s jaw clenched. He was starting to hate Fire Spirit more every second.

He turned toward his wardrobe and pulled out his laptop, slipping it into his bag.
9:00 a.m. He still had plenty of time—assuming he didn’t get lost.

Fire Spirit stretched again, grabbed a hoodie, and casually pulled it over his head. “You know,” he said, voice easy, “if you don’t know where you’re going, I can tag along. I scoped out the campus last night after grabbing food.”

“I don’t nee—”

Fire Spirit shot him a look over his shoulder, grin widening. “Unless, of course, you’ve got it all figured out already.”

Wind Archer gritted his teeth, fingers tightening on his bag strap. His pride bristled. Admitting he needed help would feel like handing Fire Spirit ammunition on a silver platter. He’d walked the campus before. He wasn’t some clueless freshman.
Still, he didn’t appreciate Fire Spirit painting him as stuck-up know-it-all.

“I’m fine. I don’t need your help,” he snapped, sharper than he intended.

Fire Spirit raised his hands in mock surrender, smirk deepening. “Alright, alright. Don’t bite my head off. Offer’s on the table though, roomie.”

With a sharp exhale, Wind Archer turned on his heel and strode out the door. He’d be fine. He didn’t need anyone to hold his hand.
Without another word, he slipped through the doorway, letting it slam shut behind him.

The morning air was crisp, a soft haze of sunlight casting a gentle glow over the campus grounds. At first, everything went smoothly. He recognised the lush courtyard, the ivy-covered library, even the flyer stand where that eye-catching girl had led him yesterday.
But as he turned around what he thought was the right corner…

His stomach sank.
His eyes darted around his surroundings—nothing looked familiar. Just where was he? Had he somehow wandered into the backrooms?

A long, empty hallway stretched ahead, lined with doors that didn’t match any of the classrooms he’d scouted yesterday. Frowning, he retraced his steps, only to find himself at a dead end. Somehow, the path had looped back on itself. Now, he was seriously considering the chance that he’d fallen into a time loop or alternate timeline.
Pursing his lips, he kept walking in circles. No big deal. He’d handled worse. He could figure this out.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

And Wind Archer still had no idea where he was.

By now, small groups of students were beginning to scatter across campus, chatting easily as they strolled toward their classes. His jaw clenched. His pride forbade him from asking for directions again—the first time he had, he’d been basically aired.

Then, from behind him, a voice called out:
“Well, well, well. Just what do we have here? The confident Wind Archer, embarrassingly lost!”

Wind Archer froze.

Turning slowly, he spotted Fire Spirit leaning casually against a wall, bag slung over one shoulder, a smug smile plastered across his face. His messy red hair caught the morning light like a flicker of flame.
“I figured you’d probably get lost—it’s a pretty big campus,” Fire Spirit drawled, strolling closer. “Good thing I followed you here. You’re nowhere near the English building, by the way.” He snorted.

Wind Archer took a deep breath, holding back the urge to spew a string of horrendous insults right into that clown’s face. Who did he think he was, tailing him like he was some helpless toddler?

“I had it handled.”

“Sure you did, roomie,” Fire Spirit shot back with a wink before jerking his chin toward the path behind him. “C’mon. I’ll show you the shortcut.”

Damn it—he really liked winking, didn’t he?
For a long second, Wind Archer debated arguing. But ultimately, practicality won over pride. With a low sigh, he fell into step beside Fire Spirit—one step behind, of course.

“Try to keep up, alright?” Fire Spirit teased over his shoulder, that infuriating grin widening.

Wind Archer didn’t reply.
He just quickened his pace.

Chapter Text

Wind Archer didn’t reply.
He just quickened his pace.

He followed Fire Spirit down the winding campus paths in silence. The redhead walked with effortless confidence, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, occasionally glancing over his shoulder with a smug grin to make sure Wind Archer was still keeping up.

Wind Archer was nearly at his wits’ end with this guy. Every look he cast, every teasing word he spoke absolutely infuriated him.

After a few more silent turns, the silhouette of Building 2 finally loomed ahead. Finally, he would be out of his misery. Approaching the entrance, Wind Archer swallowed the bitter taste of defeat. Fine. Maybe Fire Spirit was smarter than he seemed. Still, there was no need to gloat about knowing where one building was.

“This is it,” Fire Spirit proudly announced, pushing open the glass door with his shoulder. “You should be grateful to have such a caring roommate, huh?” he teased, clearly enjoying the red tint creeping up Wind Archer’s face.

Wind Archer rolled his eyes, muttering a quick, “Thanks. Bye.”

“I’m in your class, idiot!” Fire Spirit chuckled, his smile widening at Wind Archer’s surprised expression.

Right. At this point, it wasn’t even funny. Wind Archer couldn’t get a moment of peace without that pest hovering nearby? Why was he even taking English literature? He didn’t seem like the type to take such a work-loaded course.

Taking a deep breath, Wind Archer slipped past Fire Spirit, entering the vast classroom. It was already filling quickly—clusters of students chatting as they took their seats. He instinctively veered toward the far back corner, the safest place to observe and stay unnoticed. But before he could make it, a firm hand clamped on his shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa, c’mon—what are you doing sitting all the way back there?” Fire Spirit said, tugging him toward the middle of the room instead. “I scoped this spot yesterday. Best view, not in the teacher’s direct line of sight, and close to the exit for a fast getaway!”

Before Wind Archer could free himself from Fire Spirit’s surprisingly strong grip, the redhead had already called out to a couple of other students nearby.

“Hey! Mind if we sit here?” he asked cheerfully.

A golden-haired boy and his green-eyed friend nodded, sliding their bags off the empty chairs.

“Sure! Hey—you’re the guy from the noodle shop yesterday, right?” the blond asked.

“Yeah! This is my roommate, Wind Archer,” Fire Spirit introduced easily, dropping into the seat and motioning for Wind Archer to do the same.

Wind Archer stiffened, offering a small nod. Just what was Fire Spirit getting him into? He was here to learn, not make friends.

“I’m Fig, and this is Sparkling,” the one next to the blond said, maintaining easy eye contact with Wind Archer.

He gave a weak smile back.

If they were fazed by his quiet demeanor, they said nothing. Thank god, he thought, visibly calming down.

Before he could relax too much, the professor swept into the room—a tall man with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense presence. The chatter quieted almost instantly.

“Welcome to Introduction to Literary Studies,” the professor began, his voice calm but commanding. “Now, I won’t sugarcoat it. This is a written work-dominated course, and I won’t go easy. I only expect the best from you all.”

His gaze swept across the room—and locked onto Wind Archer.

“You. Wind Archer, right?”

Wind Archer froze, the air leaving his lungs. He straightened his posture, feeling the students’ eyes slowly shift toward him.

“Yes, sir,” he quickly added as an afterthought.

“I recognized the name from your entrance essay. Your analysis of The Eye of the Wind was rather impressive. Care to share what drew you to that piece?”

His peers’ gazes burned into his skin, reminding him just how many people were now expecting his reply.

Wind Archer swallowed, willing his heart to slow. He cleared his throat and sat up even straighter than before.
“The natural imagery,” he answered evenly. “It reminded me of home. And the way the prose mimics wind currents—it’s elegant and powerful.”

The professor smiled faintly. “Excellent. I look forward to your insights this semester.”

As the professor turned away to continue the lecture, Wind Archer exhaled quietly. His shoulders slowly dropped from their rigid position. He was grateful to finally be out of the spotlight.

Next to him, Fire Spirit leaned over with a lopsided smirk.
“Didn’t peg you as a teacher’s pet already. You’re full of surprises, Windy,” he whispered.

Wind Archer’s eye twitched.
“I’m not—” he hissed under his breath.

Before he could finish, Fire Spirit bumped his shoulder lightly.
“Relax, man. You killed it. Didn’t know you were that smart—might have to tutor me,” he said, winking.

Wind Archer stared at him for a second, caught off guard by the compliment. Yeah, no way he was tutoring him though. He opened his mouth to mutter a thanks but bit his tongue. If it meant nothing to Fire Spirit, it shouldn’t mean anything to him either.

The lecture droned to an end far quicker than Wind Archer expected. Despite his earlier blunder, he’d managed to arrive on time, kept his focus sharp throughout the class, taken neat notes, and even answered a professor’s question (quietly, of course).

As students began packing up, scraping chairs and rustling papers echoed through the lecture hall. Wind Archer quickly packed his belongings—satisfied but completely burnt out.

“Not bad for the first day, huh?”
A bright voice chirped beside him.

Glancing over, he realized it was Fig, a warm smile lighting up their freckled face. Their vibrant pink hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, like light reflecting off glass. They effortlessly balanced books on one hip, eyes crinkling cheerfully as they adjusted their leaf-shaped hair clip. They could’ve been the epitome of pure joy.

“You take neat notes! I should learn from you,” they remarked, gaze flicking to the pages peeking from his bag.

Before he could manage a measly thank you, Sparkling came up behind Fig.

“Your responses were quite smart. We should form a study group sometime,” he said smoothly. The glint in his amber eyes was unmistakable. His platinum blond hair fell artfully into his face, and the shimmer of his gold earrings caught the sunlight as he flashed a dazzling grin. His crisp white shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled lazily up to his forearms, giving him an effortlessly charming air. Wind Archer had to admit—he was quite attractive. No way he was single.

Fire Spirit suddenly appeared out of thin air, inserting himself into the conversation.
“We definitely should!” he agreed, a hint of malice in his voice, the flames in his eyes burning bright.

“Then it’s a date! Next time we get assigned work, we can all do it together,” Sparkling declared, seemingly not noticing Fire Spirit’s sternness.

Hm. He probably doesn’t like being left out. That would explain his reaction.

“Great, can’t wait. If you’ll excuse us, we have to get going—got some plans for later. You know how it is,” Fire Spirit cut in smoothly.

“Ah, of course. See you next time. Bye!” Sparkling replied.

Waving their goodbyes, Fire Spirit led Wind Archer out of the lecture hall. Outside, Fire Spirit seemed to relax.

“Well, how was that? Not too bad, huh?” he asked, beaming at Wind Archer.

“I guess. The professor speaks quite fast,” Wind Archer replied, a sigh escaping his lips.

“You can say that again. Back to our dorm?”

Nodding, they began the walk back—consisting mostly of Fire Spirit talking his head off about things Wind Archer couldn’t care less about.

Chapter Text

By the time they reached their dorm building, the midday sun hung high, casting a warm light across the campus. The quiet hum of students drifting between classes buzzed faintly in the background. Fire Spirit shoved open the door to their shared room and kicked his shoes off lazily, flopping onto his messy bed with a dramatic sigh.

“Man, I’m already tired. Still, I suppose the lecture wasn’t that bad—just boring,” he said aloud, folding his arms behind his head.

Wind Archer set his bag down neatly by his desk, methodically slipping out of his shoes. “It’s only been our first class,” he muttered, reaching for his notebook to skim over his fresh notes. His fingers brushed the crisp paper. That small, quiet pride from earlier still lingered somewhere in his chest—not that he’d ever admit it aloud.

Fire Spirit rolled on his side, eyeing him with a lazy grin.
“Damn, you really are one of those academic types. We just got back from class—relax a little!” he teased, giving Wind Archer a mock pleading look.

“I’m not like you, who can’t sit through an hour-long lecture without complaining,” Wind Archer replied flatly, flipping to the next page.

“Ah! So cold!” Fire Spirit gasped, clutching his chest as if Wind Archer had mortally wounded him. “Here I am, being friendly, offering my charm, my dazzling personality—and this is the thanks I get? Unbelievable.”

Wind Archer stared at him. He now had his face buried in his arms, letting out theatrical sobs like a washed-up stage actor. What had he done to end up with such a dramatic roommate?
Choosing to ignore him, Wind Archer went back to reviewing his notes. He’d expected a soft introduction, but this professor didn’t mess around—he’d already assigned a reading list and writing prep for next week. Great.

Just as he started jotting something down, Fire Spirit abruptly sat up with a groan.

“I’m starving. Let’s hit the cafeteria. Might as well make the most of our free time,” he announced, flashing that familiar grin as he stuffed his wallet into his hoodie pocket.

“I’m fine,” Wind Archer replied, eyes still on his notebook.

“Oh, come on,” Fire Spirit drawled. “You’re not seriously gonna sit here and study all day, are you? Live a little, roomie! It’s on me if money’s the problem.”

Wind Archer stiffened.

They weren’t friends. They’d barely known each other for two days. He didn’t want unnecessary interaction—and to imply money was the issue? Fire Spirit’s audacity truly knew no bounds.

Wind Archer sighed loudly, slamming his notebook closed.
“Money isn’t the problem,” He muttered under his breath.

“So you’re coming!” The other perked up, a grin plastered on his dumb face.

“Never said that.”

“But you didn’t say no~” he teased, already grabbing his keys.

Wind Archer stared down and his hands, avoiding those crimson eyes. His stomach didn’t ache, but there was a faint hollowness he knew better than to listen to. He wasn’t hungry. Or—maybe he was, but not in the way that made food appealing. The thought of eating in a loud, crowded cafeteria made something coil in his chest.
Yet Fire Spirit showed no signs of letting it go if he refused. He was really proving to be a rock in Wind Archer way. A rock he couldn’t kick away, it would always come rolling back.

“Come on then! Last one there’s a rotten egg.” Fire Spirit bellowing, speeding down the stairs yet constantly look back to make sure Wind Archer was behind.

Walking behind him, Wind Archer observed the other, running around like a child on a sugar rush. He looks pathetic, Wind Archer remarked in his mind.

The cafeteria was packed by the time they got there. Laughter, footsteps, trays clattering; it was a sensory overload. Wind Archer instinctively kept his shoulders tucked in, his steps measured.

Unbothered, Fire Spirit effortlessly moved through the line, joking with the staff as if they were old friends.

Wind Archer scanned the menu briefly, lips pressed thin. He picked something small and simple, barely enough to count as a meal, just enough to avoid questions. Something easy to push around on the tray if he needed to.

All though his eyes flickered to Wind Archer as he ordered, Fire Spirit said nothing. He paid quickly, snagging a table by the window, detached from the crowd.

Wind Archer followed in silence, sitting across from him and keeping his hands neatly in his lap before slowly pulling his tray closer.

Fire Spirit was already halfway into his meal. “So,” he said with a mouthful of food, “what’d you think of Sparkling and Fig? Think they’ll end up glued to us all semester?”

Picking at his food with deliberate slowness, he murmured, “They were okay. Nice I guess.”

“You didn’t eat much at breakfast either,” Fire Spirit said suddenly, too casual to be casual. “That… a morning thing? Or you got some allergies I should know about?”

Wind Archer stiffened, a sudden dizziness picking at his brain. He was too obvious. He should just ordered a normal meal, scoffed it down and then a trip to the bathroom. But of course he didn’t think of that did he. He was stupid, utterly stupid.

“I eat,” he said, a little too quickly. Then, quieter: “I’m just not hungry.” It was a pathetic excuse, clearly a lie—yet it was all he could muster up.

Fire Spirit didn’t press. “Fair enough,” he said, tone light, returning to his food. “More fries for me.”

Wind Archer let out a sigh he hadn’t realised he was holding back. He nibbled a corner of toast just to keep up appearances, barely tasting it.

The sun filtered through the window beside them, soft and warm on his back. The cafeteria buzzed, but Fire Spirit’s presence across from him, loud as ever, somehow cut through the noise.

For a brief second, he wasn’t hating this.
The walk back to their dorm was quiet.

Wind Archer, of course, didn’t make conversation—but for once, neither did Fire Spirit.

He should’ve been grateful for the silence. And he was, on the surface. But Fire Spirit’s words still echoed through his mind like a cracked bell.

“You didn’t eat much at breakfast either.”

The sentence stuck. Hooked deep into his brain, repeating like static. Two days in, and already he’d slipped up. He was supposed to be careful, composed, hard to read. But somehow, Fire Spirit was already seeing too much.

Usually, Wind Archer would have relished the quiet. But now, it felt like salt rubbed into a raw wound.

They reached their dorm. Fire Spirit took the stairs two at a time, his usual blur of movement. Wind Archer lingered behind, phone in hand—not texting anyone, just pretending. He stared blankly at the screen, letting the delay stretch.

1:00 PM.

Good. His next class started in an hour. That meant less time in this cramped dorm with Fire Spirit. He could just grab his stuff and go.

When he finally slipped inside, Fire Spirit lay in his bed, already tucked in and scrolling through his phone.

“Took your time,” he said lazily, not looking up.

“Mm.” Wind Archer dropped his shoes neatly by the door and crossed to his desk, pulling out his laptop from the wardrobe. He moved in practiced motions: grab notebook, zip bag, sling strap over shoulder. Ready to leave in under a minute.

“You do know your next class is at 2, right?” Fire Spirit said, glancing up. A teasing smirk pulled at his lips. “You’re gonna be the first one there. Eager much?”

Wind Archer froze slightly. How did he know—? His stomach turned. Was this guy memorizing his schedule now? Following him? That thought made his chest tighten. If he had Herbology too, Wind Archer was genuinely going to lose it. This forced proximity thing was really starting to grate on him. And if Fire Spirit brought up the cafeteria again, or tried to drag him along for another bite...

He stared at Fire Spirit for a second, wary. “You... don’t have Herbology next, do you?”

Fire Spirit barked out a laugh. “Herbology? Hell no. I don’t vibe with plants. Got Philosophy— easy credits.”

Wind Archer let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Right. Of course. Fire Spirit in Herbology? Ridiculous.

“Oh. Okay,” he said softly, reaching for the doorknob. “Bye.” He added as an afterthought

“Try not to get lost again, Windy,” Fire Spirit added with a grin, already flopping back onto his bed.

Wind Archer didn’t answer, just shut the door behind him a little quicker than usual.

He descended down the stairs once again today. The hallway was warm with afternoon light as Wind Archer slipped outside, the soft click of the dorm door shutting behind him. He kept his gaze low, footsteps measured, already slipping into the quiet headspace he preferred. No Fire Spirit. No distractions. Just him and the walk to Herbology.

Taking out his map, he made his way to class without too much trouble. He couldn’t imagine Fire Spirit’s face if he had once again gotten himself lost.

The class was tucked into a glassy building on the far side of campus, covered in ivy and surrounded by planters. Inside, the air was humid, heavy with the scent of soil and blooming herbs. It was quieter—fewer students, and a lot more practical work compared to his previous class.

He picked a seat in the far right, isolated and out of sight—just how he liked it. The lesson went by in a blur: basic plant classifications, syllabus talk, some brief safety warnings.

Muscle memory overtook him as he jotted down neat notes, but his mind wandered somewhere else. To Sparkling’s too-observant eyes. To Fire Spirit’s voice echoing in the cafeteria. To the way his stomach still twisted whenever someone brought up food. It didn’t seem like his brain wanted to forget anytime soon.

By the time class ended, the sun had started to dip, casting golden light over the greenhouses outside. He packed up without a word, grateful no one tried to chat. No one noticed him leave.

Just how it usually was.

Chapter Text

The next few days passed in a blur of new faces, half-empty classrooms, and awkward group introductions. Wind Archer kept to himself—always early, always tucked into the back row, always focused. Or at least, pretending to be.

Fire Spirit was everywhere.

Loud in the mornings, louder at lunch, and somehow always waiting outside their shared dorm just as Wind Archer was trying to leave unnoticed. No matter how carefully he timed it, Fire Spirit always seemed one step ahead—like an annoying echo that wouldn’t fade.

He didn’t ask to be followed. He didn’t want a shadow.

But Fire Spirit never got the hint. And Wind Archer… didn’t bother pushing harder.

Maybe he was too tired to argue. Maybe he’d accepted that the other wasn’t going to just disappear.

It didn’t matter.

He had his routine. Classes, notes, the quiet corner seat at the edge of every room. Fire Spirit’s noise was just background now—something to tune out like campus chatter or birdsong. Unwanted, but constant.

By the end of the week, Wind Archer could recite his schedule without checking his phone. He knew which routes avoided the quad during rush hour. He knew Fire Spirit occasionally threw him a look when ordered a small meal, but never said anything else about it. He knew Fire Spirit talked too much, ate too fast, and never remembered to close the dorm window when he left.

Sparkling and Fig waved whenever they passed by in class. Somehow, Wind Archer had ended up in a group chat with them. He hadn’t replied yet.

Nothing had changed. Not really.

And that was fine.

So came the matter of the weekend—two days without classes to lean on, two days without those necessary breaks from his roommate. Safe to say, Wind Archer was not looking forward to it. All he wanted was to stay home, get ahead on his work, and maybe call Millennial Tree. But knowing Fire Spirit, he was bound to drag him along to a café, a park, or some hangout with Sparkling and Fig—neither of whom Wind Archer had replied to. On weekdays, he could make excuses. But now? There was no escaping.

Saturday morning came faster than he would of liked.

He’d barely opened his eyes before he felt Fire Spirit thumping around the room, humming some obnoxious upbeat melody as he trifled through this drawers.

Rolling on his side,he buried his face deeper into his pillow. Maybe if he stayed still long enough, the other would take the hint and leave without him.

But it never works out like that does it?

“Morning sleepyhead,” Fire Spirit’s voice cut through the silence, too chipper for this early. “Thought you would’ve been awake ages ago.”

Well yeah, Wind Archer was usually awake before the other but it couldn’t have been that late.

Stretching his arms he reached underneath his bed, feeling around for his phone. His eyes widening when he tapped it.

12:45pm

He couldn’t remembered the last time he had woken up so late. He was used to being up at the crack of dawn, before the rooster crows, ready for whatever the day in front held.

Yet, it seemed as if he was letting himself go. This week he had been less productive, unmotivated to even get up on the morning. He should probably go to sleep earlier, that would fix it he remarked in his mind.

“Calm down Windy, it’s still only morning. I can’t count how many times I’ve woken up in the late afternoon.” Fire Spirit chuckled.

“Anyways, I was thinking we should go shopping. We really need snacks, and a mini fridge and more pot noodle and-“

“You can go on your own” Wind Archer replied flatly. The last thing he wanted was to spend time with Fire Spirit.

“Geez, at least wait for to finish! The cafeteria food is good and all but it’s inconvenient to go there everyday. Plus it’s closed on Sundays.”

Wind Archer sat up slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “We don’t need any of that,” he muttered.

Fire Spirit was already pulling on a hoodie, completely ignoring him. “Maybe you don’t. But I’m not living off toast and air. Besides, our room’s way too empty. No personality.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It is when I keep stubbing my toe on your suitcase because we don’t have a proper shelf.”

Fair play by Fire Spirit… Now that Wind Archer thought about it, even though he tried his best to organise the room it was still relatively messy.

Still, he didn’t want to go anywhere, especially not some busy store filled with noise and people. He had a plan for today, and that did not include a splitting headache caused by the others enthusiastic voice.

But Fire Spirit was watching him now with that maddening grin, already holding the door half open like the decision had been made for both of them.

“Come on!! I’ll do all the heavy lifting and I’ll even let you pick something out~”

Wind Archer sighed, rubbing at his temple. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I have taste. And hunger. And I refuse to eat dry toast tomorrow.”

He could say no. He should say no. But that same heaviness in his chest from the night before still lingered, and fighting felt like more effort than it was worth.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “But this is out of necessity. Nothing else.”

“Yesss,” Fire Spirit cheered. “Five minutes. Get dressed!”

Well. No going back now.

Wind Archer rose from bed and shuffled over to the closet, glancing sideways at Fire Spirit—still in a hoodie and plaid pajama pants. Nothing fancy. Good. He’d match that energy. After a quick scan, he settled on a light green polo and some slightly baggy jeans.

As he pulled them from the hanger, he caught Fire Spirit watching him.

“Can you turn around?” Wind Archer said flatly, narrowing his eyes.

“We’re both guys, dude.” Fire Spirit grinned, smirking like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Wind Archer didn’t answer. He just stared. His silence spoke volumes.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” With a roll of his eyes, Fire Spirit turned around, scrolling through his phone.

Wind Archer changed quickly, combing his hair with his fingers once before quickly grabbing his wallet and slipping on his shoes. He didn’t need to look good—he just needed to survive the next few hours.

Fire Spirit spun on his heel as soon as Wind Archer finished. “Ready? Great. I found this store like 40 minutes away. Sells everything—snacks, shelves, cleaning stuff, maybe even a microwave if we’re lucky.”

“40 minutes? That’s far.”

“Well yes, but there’s not many options when the campus is in the middle of nowhere. We can just go in a bus!”

“I can just drive?” Wind Archer replied

“Nope you can’t… The car park is shut, nobody can get in or out!”

Wind Archer was sure that wasn’t true yet, he once again did not feel like arguing.
Eventually, they reached the bus stop. Fire Spirit leaned lazily against the glass panels surrounding the uncomfortable bench.

“Should be here in five minutes or so,” he said, eyes drifting to Wind Archer. “So, you ever been on a bus before?”

What?

Wind Archer stared at him. That had to be a joke.

“Yes?” he replied flatly, one brow raised in disbelief.

“Ahh, same.”

Right. Very enlightening.

Wind Archer had no idea where Fire Spirit was going with this. Was he going anywhere at all?

“Tryna make conversation, y’know?” Fire Spirit added after a beat.

And for a second—just a second—a smile tugged at the corner of Wind Archer’s lips. He wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t how conversation worked. Fire Spirit was proving to be more of a dumbass every day.

“Hehe, is that a smile I see on stoic Windy’s face?” the other teased, clearly delighted.

Wind Archer’s hand snapped up, covering his face like a muzzle. “No,” came the muffled response.

He couldn’t believe this. Well… no, he could. Of course Fire Spirit would try to catch him off guard like that. But it didn’t make him any less annoyed with himself for falling for it.

The bus screeched to a stop in front of them, and Fire Spirit bounded on first, flashing a wave to the driver. Wind Archer followed silently, tapping his card and moving to sit at the far end of an empty row.

Of course, Fire Spirit plopped down right beside him, knees bouncing, eyes already scanning out the window like a kid on a field trip.

“Y’know” he said suddenly, “I have a good feeling about today.”

Wind Archer didn’t respond. He stared at the back of the seat in front of him, jaw tight.

“I mean, it’s nice out. We’re being productive together. It’s usually you doing all the work. We might even find that perfect ugly little chair to give our dorm some character!”

Wind Archer exhaled slowly through his nose. “You have a very loose definition of productivity.”

“And you have no definition of fun.”

Wind Archer turned slightly to glare at him. Fire Spirit just beamed back.

This was going to be a long day.
After an agitating bus ride, they finally reached the store.

Fire Spirit practically raced inside, making a beeline for the shopping trolleys.

“Quick, quick! Give me a coin.”

Wind Archer blinked at him from ten feet away. “Did you not bring money?”

“Of course I did!” Fire Spirit called back, already half-leaning over a cart. “But who carries cash?”

A sensible person, Fire Spirit.

Wind Archer sighed and walked over slowly, already feeling the headache settling in. He handed over a coin without a word.

Fire Spirit snatched it with a triumphant grin, jammed it into the slot, and bolted down the nearest aisle.

Wind Archer quickened his pace. He had a hunch he shouldn’t let Fire Spirit out of his sight.

They skidded to a stop in front of the cereal section. Fire Spirit studied the boxes with an intensity that suggested he was preparing for war. His brows furrowed as he picked up two options and turned to Wind Archer with all the gravity of a courtroom judge.

“Coco Pops or Lucky Charms?” he asked, voice unusually serious.

Wind Archer stared, utterly bewildered. “I don’t care?”

“No, Wind Archer.” Fire Spirit stepped closer, eyes narrowing like burning coal. “If your life was on the line, which one would you choose?”

What was this guy doing?

It was just cereal. And yet, the tension in Fire Spirit’s eyes made his stomach knot with irrational alarm. Mental note: never challenge him in an actual crisis.

“Lucky Charms…?”

Fire Spirit lit up instantly, all menace gone. “Good choice!” he beamed, tossing the box into the cart.

Wind Archer exhaled through his nose, already regretting his involvement.

Fire Spirit zoomed off again, grabbing snacks without a second thought. “We need ramen. And chips. And gummy worms. Ooh, question—sour or sweet?”

“I don’t like anything,” Wind Archer muttered, trailing behind.

“Liar! Everyone likes something. You just haven’t figured it out yet.” Fire Spirit spun in place like a child, arms outstretched.

Wind Archer didn’t bother responding. He silently took inventory, mentally removing half the junk food Fire Spirit was piling in.

This wasn’t a shopping trip. It was babysitting. And he wasn’t even getting paid.

They turned into a quieter aisle—canned goods and rice. The volume dropped slightly, a small relief. Wind Archer loosened his shoulders and scanned the shelves.

He didn’t plan on using the shared dorm kitchen—it was loud, messy, and he didn’t trust the hygiene of half their floor. So unless he wanted to live on pot noodles, his options were slim.

Remembering an ad for an electric cooking pot, he grabbed a bag of rice and made a mental note to buy the appliance later. It opened up a door of opportunities. Maybe he wouldn’t have to live off heavily processed food after all.

Fire Spirit looked over, brows raised. “Oh, so you do eat.”

“I’m preparing for survival. Not taste.”

“Same thing, really.” Fire Spirit pushed the cart beside him, drumming a lazy rhythm against the handle.

For a moment, the conversation stopped.

Then, casually: “You know... I don’t mind doing this with you.”

Wind Archer’s hand tightened around the rice. His eyes stayed fixed on the nutritional label.

He didn’t respond.

Fire Spirit didn’t push.

Instead, he chucked another packet of ramen into the cart. “Come on, we’ve still got half the store to raid.”

The next aisle was colder—cleaning supplies and toiletries. Wind Archer noted the scent of hand sanitiser and bleach.

Fire Spirit picked up a garish orange bottle and held it up like a trophy. “The flavour’s citrus!”

Wind Archer blinked. “You mean the scent?”

“Literally the same thing.”

He watched as Fire Spirit tossed it into the cart without a second thought.

“You know cleaning involves more than just spraying colourful bottles, right?”

“I live for vibes,” Fire Spirit said matter-of-factly.

Wind Archer chose a clean linen-scented detergent and quietly added it to the cart, hoping to balance out the chaos.

“Do you ever do this with anyone else?” Fire Spirit asked, a little too casually.

Wind Archer paused. “Do what?”

“This. Shop. Hang out. Exist in public.”

He frowned. In truth, no—he didn’t. Yet admitting that would open him up to teasing.

“No.”

Fire Spirit let out a long whistle. “Wow. I feel special.”

“It’s not special.”

“To me it is.”

Wind Archer ignored him, pretending to be deeply interested in a pack of dishcloths.

The other didn’t push. He never did when it really mattered.

“Alright!” Fire Spirit suddenly announced. “Bathroom aisle next. You’re in charge of picking soap. Don’t mess this up. This is a test of character.”

“What does my soap choice have to do with character?”

“Everything.”

Unfazed, Wind Archer picked up a bar of Dove soap and a mint-scented body wash. He was about to place them in the cart when Fire Spirit intercepted.

“Bro, just get the 3-in-1. Saves money.”

Wind Archer stopped, horrified. “…You didn’t just say that.”

Fire Spirit burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “I’m joking! You should’ve seen your face. Relax, I’m actually hygienic. The ladies love it.”

Wind Archer was too stunned to reply before Fire Spirit darted off again, nearly crashing into a tower of tissue boxes.

He followed, slower this time.

This was exhausting.

But not… entirely unbearable.

Fire Spirit was already at the appliances aisle, transfixed by a garishly red microwave.

“We’re not getting that,” Wind Archer said from behind him.

Fire Spirit jumped. “AHH! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“That thing looks like it belongs in a cartoon. It would clash horribly.”

“Fine, fine. We’ll get the boring white one.” He reluctantly swapped the boxes.

Wind Archer’s gaze shifted, landing on a muted green kettle. Something about it tugged at him.

He remembered Millennial Tree teaching him how to make tea. Something so simple, but warm. Safe.

He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Fire Spirit nudged him. “That one’s kinda nice. We can get it if you want.”

Wind Archer nodded once. “...Thanks.”

It went in the cart.

After a few more aisles and Fire Spirit’s usual chaos, they finally made their way to the checkout.

The line was long, but Fire Spirit leaned against the cart like it was no big deal, humming some tune Wind Archer didn’t recognize.

They still had to carry all of this back.

Wind Archer rubbed his temple, bracing himself.

But as Fire Spirit nudged his shoulder and held up a novelty pack of glow-in-the-dark dish sponges like it was a treasure, being here didn’t seem so bad.
Outside the store, the sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows on the pavement. Wind Archer shifted the weight of one of the shopping bags as Fire Spirit checked the bus times on his phone.

“Oh,” Fire Spirit muttered. “So, bad news.”

Wind Archer narrowed his eyes. “What.”

“We missed the bus.”

“…By how long?”

“Uh. Like, five minutes?”

Wind Archer closed his eyes briefly, like he was summoning patience from a higher realm. “When’s the next one?”

“An hour.”

“Of course.”

They both sat down at the bus stop, Wind Archer carefully placing their shopping bags in a neat row while Fire Spirit sprawled dramatically on the bench like they’d just run a marathon.

“Well,” Fire Spirit sighed, tipping his head back. “At least it’s a nice evening.”

Wind Archer didn’t respond. He was too busy thinking about how absurd this whole trip had become. And the bags—too many, filled with too much nonsense. Half of it, he was sure, would sit untouched in their dorm room. It was meant to reduce the clutter in their room yet, it did the opposite.

“…You know we don’t have a pantry, right?” Wind Archer finally said.

Fire Spirit sat up. “Wait, for real?”

“You’ve been living there.”

“Yeah, but I thought the cupboard under the sink counted.”

Wind Archer turned his head slowly to look at him.

“I’m joking!” Fire Spirit grinned. “Kind of. Look, worst-case scenario, we just, like… improvise. Stack boxes. Use the microwave as a shelf. Eat the snacks now.”

“I am not building a monument of ramen in our room.”

“I might,” Fire Spirit said, reclining again. “It’ll be a beautiful sculpture. Ramen Tower.”

Wind Archer leaned back against the glass panel of the stop, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I should’ve gone alone.”

“You’d have had a terrible time alone,” Fire Spirit replied easily. “You need someone to stop you from buying nothing but plain rice and dishcloths.”

Wind Archer didn’t dignify that with a response. Though, glancing at the bag of Lucky Charms, he had to admit—maybe Fire Spirit had a point.

“Hey,” Fire Spirit said after a moment, his voice quieter. “Thanks for coming with me, by the way.”

Wind Archer looked over, suspicious.

Fire Spirit just smiled, softer than usual. “I mean it. I know it’s not your thing. But it’s been nice. Kinda domestic.”

Wind Archer blinked, unsure what to say.

So, of course, Fire Spirit continued, oblivious to the tension he’d just stirred. “Think they’ll let us on the bus with all these bags? We look like we raided the apocalypse aisle.”

Wind Archer let out a short, quiet laugh before he could stop it.

Fire Spirit grinned. “There it is again. I’m two for two today.”

Wind Archer rolled his eyes, but the edge of his mouth twitched.

The next hour passed slowly, but not unpleasantly. They talked about nothing—classes, weird dorm neighbours, a dog they saw across the street. Fire Spirit kept making ridiculous suggestions about turning their dorm into a kitchen extension, and Wind Archer kept shooting them down, but not with the usual edge.

By the time the bus finally pulled up, Wind Archer was tired, but lighter somehow.

They lugged their bags on board. It was going to be a pain carrying them up to their room. They still had no idea where everything was going to fit.

But strangely, that part didn’t feel so unbearable.

They both sat at the back, finally relaxing their bodies. Wind Archer pulled out his phone and checked the time.

5:43 p.m.

Wow. This trip had seriously overrun.

Neither of them spoke for a bit. The bus seat was uncomfortable, but the quiet was nice. Their limbs were sore, bags heavy and half-balanced in their laps or by their feet.

Fire Spirit kicked at the floor lightly, humming something under his breath until he broke the silence with, “Good news. I got a friend who can give us a cabinet.”

Wind Archer looked over slowly.

“Guess we won’t have a ramen tower after all.”

“…You have friends?”

“Wow. Okay. Rude.”

Wind Archer looked back out the window.

Fire Spirit leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “Yes, I have friends. And one of them owed me a favour. She’s giving us her old kitchen cabinet.”

“Why does she have a spare cabinet?”

Fire Spirit shrugged. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Wind Archer was too tired to argue.

As the bus slowed at the next stop, a mechanical voice announced: "Route ending. All passengers, please disembark."

Both of them looked up in confusion.

“…What?” Fire Spirit blinked. “Wait, what stop is this?”

Wind Archer checked his phone again, eyes narrowing. “We’re not even halfway back.”

They got off with the rest of the crowd, standing on the pavement with four bags each and no bus in sight.

Fire Spirit spun in a slow circle. “No way… Did we get on the wrong one?”

“No,” Wind Archer said flatly. “They cut the route short. Probably end-of-day scheduling.”

“But there’s a whole hour until the next one!”

Wind Archer gave him a look. “I know.”

Fire Spirit groaned and dropped one of his bags onto the bench. “I’m gonna die here. This is how it ends. Death by carrying snacks.”

“I carried the heavy items?”

“Exactly! So why am I suffering like this?!”

Wind Archer didn’t bother responding. He quietly sat down beside him, arranging the plastic bags so nothing would squish or melt.

The street was quieter out here, a few cars passing, birds overhead. The sun was lower now, hazy orange streaks bleeding into the clouds. The world felt… slowed down.

“So,” Fire Spirit started again, leaning back with his arms draped behind the bench, “what’s your tragic backstory?”

Wind Archer gave him a sideways glance.

“…Kidding. Kidding. Mostly.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“Yet.”

Wind Archer rolled his eyes.

A few moments passed before Fire Spirit added, quieter, “I meant it earlier, you know. About not minding this.”

“This?”

“Yeah. You. The shopping. Hanging out. Even when you look like you’re two seconds away from murdering me.”

Wind Archer didn’t reply.

He just looked down at the plastic handle digging into his hand, then back up at the street, voice soft. “…I don’t hate it.”

Fire Spirit blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Then he smiled. Not his usual mischievous grin, but something smaller. Easier.

“Progress,” he murmured.

They sat like that for a while—watching shadows lengthen and people come and go—until eventually, the bus rolled back up.

It hissed to a stop. They grabbed their bags and boarded, this time sitting at the front, closer to the door, closer to home.

By the time they reached campus, it was almost dark. The sky a burnt orange melting into navy. Neither said much as they trudged back across the grounds, plastic bags rustling with every step.

When they got to the dorm room, Fire Spirit kicked the door open with his foot and dropped everything on the floor.

“…So. Where are we putting all this?” he asked, surveying the tiny space.

Wind Archer stood in the doorway, deadpan. “There is no pantry.”

“Right.” Fire Spirit nodded sagely. “So ramen tower it is.”

Wind Archer pinched the bridge of his nose. “What happened to your ‘friend with a cabinet’?”

“She’s bringing it tomorrow. Chill.”

“I’m not chilling.”

“You will. One day I’ll cook you the best packet ramen of your life.”

Wind Archer stared.

Fire Spirit pointed a spoon like a sword. “It’s not just boiling water. It’s art.”

“…I regret ever agreeing to this trip.”

“No, you don’t,” Fire Spirit grinned, already unpacking the bags onto the dorm desk and the floor.

Wind Archer sighed and moved to help, placing the rice beside the kettle, aligning cans in neat little rows.

He still didn’t like chaos. Still didn’t like mess.

But maybe… maybe he could survive it.

For now.

Fire Spirit flopped backwards onto his bed once the last bag was emptied. “I think I lost a year of my life carrying those.”

“You barely carried anything,” Wind Archer said, nudging a bag of chips off his own bed with quiet disdain.

“Yeah, but emotionally? I carried us both.”

Wind Archer ignored that.

The room was still too full—rice bags on the floor, canned goods crowding the desk, ramen packs in a neat stack threatening to slide off the chair. There was no room, not really. The space barely held two people, let alone a week’s worth of groceries and whatever future chaos Fire Spirit was planning.

“We really need to set up the shelves.”

“We’ll get your dream shelving system once the cabinet shows up. Just think of this as temporary disorganization.”

Wind Archer didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The way his brow twitched said everything.

Fire Spirit stretched with a yawn, sitting up slowly. “Alright, shower time. Dibs!”

“You had the first shower yesterday. That’s not fair.”

Fire Spirit was about to argue—until a lightbulb went off in his head. “Alright, alright. You can have first shower. But only if you let me make you a ramen packet.”

”I thought you said one day, not today.

“Maybe so, but today is the perfect day!” 

Wind Archer sighed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“I’m a man of culture and culinary talent.”

“I don’t trust your cooking.”

“Then you better enjoy your lukewarm shower while you still can,” Fire Spirit said, already rifling through the bags. “Because once I unveil my secret recipe, you’re gonna beg for seconds.”

Wind Archer rolled his eyes but grabbed his towel anyway.

“Try not to blow up the room.”

“No promises.”

The door shut behind him, the soft sound of running water kicking in a few seconds later.

Left alone, Fire Spirit cracked his knuckles and got to work. He cleared a corner of the desk with a dramatic sweep, set up the electric kettle, and ripped open a ramen packet like he was defusing a bomb. Steam soon filled the air, rich with the scent of instant broth, soy, and just a little something extra—okay, it was crushed chili flakes from his snack drawer, but Wind Archer didn’t need to know that.

“Chef Fire in the building,” he muttered to himself, stirring the noodles with the solemnity of a trained professional.

By the time Wind Archer reappeared, towel slung around his shoulders and damp hair falling into his eyes, Fire Spirit was already plating.

Well. Bowling.

He turned, lifting the steaming bowl like a trophy. “Your dinner, sir. Hope your shower was refreshing, because your taste buds are about to ascend.”

Wind Archer raised an eyebrow. “…You said the same thing about a gas station sandwich once.”

“And I was right then too.”

Wind Archer accepted the bowl with quiet suspicion, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He studied it for a moment, took a careful bite—then blinked.

“…This is… edible.”

Fire Spirit grinned. “That’s practically five stars from you.”

Wind Archer took another bite. “I didn’t say it was good.”

“You didn’t say it was bad.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

Too late. Fire Spirit flopped back onto his bed with a victorious sigh. “Man. We’re thriving. Food? Secured. Windy’s praise? Received. Chaos? Contained—temporarily at least.”

Wind Archer didn’t respond. He just kept eating, slowly.

“Alright then, my turn to shower,” Fire Spirit called, already sprinting toward the bathroom.

The room was quiet, warm from the kettle, humid from the shared steam and the ramen bowl in his hands. It still smelled like plastic packaging and city air, but for a moment, it wasn’t too bad.

Once he finished, Wind Archer set the bowl aside and stretched out carefully on his bed.

Soon after, Fire Spirit came out, not caring about his wet hair, and simply sprawled across his bed.

He pulled his blanket up to his chin. “Night, roomie.”

There was a pause before Wind Archer replied, voice soft and reluctant:

“…Goodnight.”

Chapter Text

His eyes snapped open, vision not yet ready to confront the day ahead of him. Once his sight adjusted, the world around him was… confusing, to say the least.

Wind howled in every direction, like a rabid pack of wolves ready to pounce. Rain pounded into the earth without mercy, soaking everything in its path. A deep, gnawing cold crept through his veins, freezing him from the inside out.

Wind Archer looked up at the sky. It was overcast, turbulent and dark. And worst of all, starless. Stripped of all life, it left behind only the hollow shell of what once was. Not even the moon dared to show itself.

Lightning cracked across the heavens, blinding and sharp, splitting through trees that had long since blackened and died.

Where was he?

He staggered to his feet, joints crackling with every sharp movement. His breaths came shallow, quick. Fear clutched his chest as he turned in place, taking in the unfamiliar nightmare landscape. The last thing he could remember was lying safely in bed, warm and free of worry. Now? He stood in a cold, decaying world that seemed to reject the very concept of safety.

Spinning around, he suddenly froze, throat dry at the sight behind him.

He was standing at the highest point of a towering cliff, a fatal drop only inches away. Jagged rocks jutted out below like teeth, and a heavy fog obscured the bottom. He instinctively turned back, panic rising in his chest. His only thought: get away from the edge.

Until someone stepped in front of him.

Fire Spirit.

“Fire Spirit? I—I’m not alone!” Wind Archer exclaimed, relief flooding his voice. “Where are we?! What’s going on?”

Fire Spirit approached slowly, head down, shoulders stiff. He closed the distance between them and placed a hand on Wind Archer’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Wind Archer asked, unease crawling up his spine. His face felt warm—confused, afraid.

And then, Fire Spirit shoved him.

Wind Archer slipped with a gasp, nails clawing at the stone wall. By some miracle, his hand caught on a toothed rock, halting his fall. He clung to it with everything he had, heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” he shouted, voice raw with terror.

Finally, Fire Spirit raised his head and looked at him.

Wind Archer’s blood ran cold.

It wasn’t him.

The face was the same. But the eyes… the eyes were hollow. Lifeless. Not the mischievous spark he knew. Not the warmth. Not him.

“FIRE SPIRIT, PLEASE! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE. HELP ME!” Wind Archer screamed, desperate, voice breaking.

The figure stepped forward, and Wind Archer felt a flicker of hope. Whatever this thing was—it wouldn’t let him fall. Fire Spirit would never—

Then it kicked his hand.

His grip broke. The world fell away.

He plunged downward, wind screaming in his ears.

Betrayal burned on his tongue, bitter and sharp.

He looked up one last time.

Above him, the creature stared down with a monstrous grin, its mouth splitting wider than humanly possible. Flesh tore at the seams to reveal jagged, glinting fangs.

And then he hit the ground.

Wind Archer woke up with a jolt, breath caught in his throat.

The ceiling came into focus above him—white, dull, familiar, and in urgent need of a clean.

His chest heaved, lungs pulling in the humid dorm air like it was essential to his survival.

The sheets clung to his skin, sweat acting as their glue. They were tangled around his legs, and one arm was clenched tightly around his blanket like a lifeline.

He blinked slowly. Once. Twice.

It had all been a dream.

His life hadn’t ended.

There was no cliff. No storm.

And no twisted reflection of Fire Spirit standing over him.

Only the soft rustle of fabric, the light chirping of birds in the distance, and Fire Spirit’s occasional snores.

Morning light filtered in through the curtains in thin, uneven lines—gold slicing through gray. Just like it always did.

He sat up, hand pressed to his chest. His heart still raced like a wild cheetah chasing prey.

It felt too loud in the silence—an erratic thump that refused to slow.

Fire Spirit was still fast asleep, one leg hanging off the bed, blanket kicked to the floor.

His face was peaceful in a way that twisted something in Wind Archer’s stomach.

He dragged a hand down his own face.

It wasn’t real. Just his imagination.

But even now, fully awake, the feeling clung to him—thick and heavy, like a second skin.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, unmoving, letting the weight of it settle.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the memory of hollow eyes and a monstrous grin still burned.

He reached under the bed for his phone.

4:50 a.m.

Far too early, even by his standards. But he knew going back to sleep would be impossible.

Wind Archer glanced once more toward Fire Spirit, frowning faintly.

Then, with quiet precision, he stood up to start the day—because he had to.

Because if he stayed still too long, the dream might follow him into the morning.

He walked over to the bathroom door. Edging it open, he stepped inside, still feeling off.

He grabbed his toothbrush and glanced at himself in the mirror.

But in the reflection, it wasn’t him.

His eyes were too hollow. Too dark.

A smile stretched across his face.

He dropped the toothbrush with a clatter, stumbling back from the mirror.

Then bolted.

Heart pounding, he stood frozen at the foot of Fire Spirit’s bed, he was still asleep—peaceful, unaware.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real.

He knew that. He had to know that. But his hands were still trembling.

Fire Spirit hadn’t moved—still sprawled across his mattress in his usual chaotic position, arm over his eyes, mouth slightly parted. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, soft snores drifting into the quiet morning.

Wind Archer watched him. Too long, probably. Searching for something that proved he was real—tangible, alive. That he wasn’t some twisted copy born from the storm in his head.

The shadows under Fire Spirit’s eyes were faint today. The corner of his lip twitched, like he was caught in a dream far lighter than Wind Archer’s. A safe one. A quiet one. And for a moment, Wind Archer hated how easy it looked for him. How unbothered.

A knot twisted in his throat.

He sat down on the edge of his own bed, carefully, as if any sudden movement might disturb the fragile air between them. His palms pressed into his knees, trying to ground himself. The cold floor beneath his feet. The soft hum of early traffic outside. The distant ticking of the wall clock.

But even now, every time he blinked, he could almost see it again—that cliff, the sky torn open, those empty eyes wearing a face that didn’t belong to them.

Wind Archer leaned forward, pressing his elbows into his thighs, burying his face into his hands.

He didn’t know what the dream meant. Or if it meant anything at all. But it had sunk into him like roots—sharp and unwelcome.

Behind him, Fire Spirit snorted in his sleep and rolled over with a muttered, half-coherent word. Wind Archer flinched.

He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder. Still asleep.

Still him.

He let out a slow, uneven breath and sat back. Eyes fixed on the ceiling once more.

Eventually, the light would grow stronger. Fire Spirit would wake up. They’d argue over something dumb—shoes left in the hallway, or how Fire Spirit drank all the milk again. Maybe they’d cook ramen. Maybe they’d sit in silence. But something would break the spell of the morning.

Until then, Wind Archer stayed quiet.

And tried not to look in the mirror again.

The rest of the morning dragged on, slow and stifling. Every little sound—pipes creaking, the hum of traffic outside, even the fridge clicking on, made Wind Archer flinch. He tried lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly through his phone, but even that offered no safety. Now and then, the screen would dim just enough to reflect his face—and for a split second, the reflection seemed wrong. Off. Like that thing.

Eventually, he gave up and resorted to cleaning the chaos from yesterday. The mess from their shopping trip had lost all color and charm. Fire Spirit’s antics, the cereal aisle chaos, the ramen packets. It all felt like it belonged to a different life. One he was no longer sure was real.

“What’cha thinking abouttt?”

The voice snapped him back to the present.

He turned fast—too fast—and there was Fire Spirit, perched on the edge of his bed. Real. Groggy. Rubbing sleep from his eyes with both fists.

“Nothing...” Wind Archer mumbled. His voice was hoarse, words trailing into silence. But he didn’t look away.

No. It really was Fire Spirit. Messy hair. Eye bags. Slouched posture. Real.

“Mkayyy,” Fire Spirit replied with a sleepy yawn, stretching like a cat. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, immediately shivering when his feet hit the cold floor. “So what’s the plan to—wait. Where are my duck slippers?!”

Wind Archer blinked. “You’re what?”

“My red dragon duck hybrid slippers!” Fire Spirit said, scandalized. “Where’d they go?!”

Wind Archer let out a soft, almost involuntary snort. He quickly cleared his throat. “Try under your bed?”

“Ah, genius! You’re so smart.” Fire Spirit dropped to the floor, crawling beneath the bed with an enthusiasm usually reserved for treasure hunts.

Wind Archer watched him with a look of vague disbelief. Same old Fire Spirit. Clumsy, loud, ridiculous. Not hollow. Not fake. Not grinning like a nightmare.

“Found them!” Fire Spirit cried, triumphantly sliding on the bizarre slippers. “As I was saying, what’s the plan for today, partner?”

Wind Archer turned toward the cluttered desk and cluttered floor and cluttered everything. Another hour of this and he’d snap. “The cabinet delivery,” he said flatly.

“Oh! Of course that’s the first thing you think about.” Fire Spirit grabbed his phone, already dialing. “You’re such a clean freak,” he teased as the phone rang.

A warm, melodic voice answered. “Heyyy! How you doing, Fire Spirit?”

“I’m alright, and you?” he said smoothly, exchanging a few lines of pleasantries before getting to the point. “So, about the cabinet…”

A few nods and "mhm"s later, Fire Spirit hung up and turned to Wind Archer with a smirk. “She’s dropping it off around 11. If you can survive that long.”

Wind Archer exhaled. That was manageable. Sort of.

Wait. He frowned. “What does it look like?”

Fire Spirit blinked. “Hm?”

“The cabinet. What kind is it?”

“Oh! Uh.” Fire Spirit rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. I haven’t actually seen it. She just said it was ‘one-of-a-kind’ and ‘creative.’ So… I guess we’ll find out together?”

Wind Archer closed his eyes briefly. This was going to be a long day—though, lately, most days had been.

“Anyways, I’m starvinggg! What’s there even to eat?” Fire Spirit muttered, mostly to himself as he lazily wandered toward the chaos of yesterday’s leftovers. After a few moments of rummaging, he emerged triumphantly with a bag of Doritos raised high, a look of self-fulfillment practically glowing on his face.

Wind Archer just stared.

He genuinely wondered how Fire Spirit wasn’t morbidly overweight if his idea of breakfast was sodium-drenched, artificially flavored corn chips. “That’s really what you’re going to eat?” he asked, his face twisting into something between disbelief and disgust.

“Yes.” Fire Spirit sighed, flopping down on his bed. “Not everyone is obsessively concerned with their health. Plus, a bag of chips isn’t going to turn me diabetic.”

“Well, those things add up. Some chips here, a chocolate bar there, and suddenly your cholesterol’s through the roof—”

That was the last sentence Fire Spirit fully processed before Wind Archer launched into a full-fledged rant on healthy choices, balanced meals, and half a dozen absurdly long words Fire Spirit didn’t give a rat’s ass about. He’d never been on the receiving end of a Wind Archer lecture—and he had no plans to “fuck around and find out”.

“Okay, okay—but have you even eaten anything today?” he shot back, a scowl creeping onto his face.

…

..

.

Wind Archer’s silence was all the answer he needed.

“Exactly. So don’t lecture me about healthy choices when you’re running on empty. I thought breakfast was supposed to be the most important meal of the day?”

The room went quiet, save for the exaggerated crunch of Fire Spirit chewing. Whether he was doing it loudly on purpose or not, Wind Archer couldn’t tell. Either way, the sound gnawed at his nerves. He fidgeted with his fingers, eyes downcast.

After a while, Fire Spirit turned to him again.

“I’m guessing you don’t want any?”

Wind Archer gave a small, wordless shake of the head.

“Okay.” Fire Spirit replied, tone quieter this time. He methodically twisted the top of the bag, sealing it to keep it from going stale, and set it down carefully on the desk—one of the few surfaces not completely overtaken by clutter.

A knock rattled the door just after 11:00.

Fire Spirit perked up like a dog catching a scent. “Ooh, must be TimeKeeper!”

Wind Archer raised an eyebrow. “That’s... the cabinet person?”

“Yup!” Fire Spirit grinned, already halfway to the door.

There, leaning against the doorframe with a lopsided smirk and one earbud still in, stood Time Keeper. A loosely rolled hoodie was tied around her waist, and her free hand was adjusting a pair of crooked sunglasses—indoors. Beside her was a modest-sized box, taped haphazardly and decorated with doodles in permanent marker.

“Yo,” she said. “You owe me bubble tea for this.”

Fire Spirit gasped dramatically. “Only if you help us build it too.”

“I’m not a miracle worker,” she said, rolling the box inside with one hand like it was made of air. Her gaze swept the chaotic dorm. “Wow. Cozy.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Wind Archer muttered, arms crossed.

TimeKeeper raised an eyebrow at Wind Archer. “Who’s this, then? Your boyfriend?”

Wind Archer stiffened, face tinging a dark shade of green.

“Pshh—I’m kidding! You should’ve seen your face,” she cackled. “I don’t even think Fire swings that way. He’s the straightest person I’ve ever met.”

“Hey! I’ve had my share of experiences!” Fire Spirit protested.

“With what, a pillow?” she shot back, wheezing with laughter.

She had the kind of energy that lit up a room. Even Wind Archer felt his lips twitching.

“Seriously though, Windy, be careful. He once texted me ‘what brand of soy sauce do you use’ at 3 a.m. and then ghosted me for a week.”

“It was an important question!” Fire Spirit called. “Don't turn Windy against me!”

TimeKeeper turned to him, grinning. “So, your name’s Windy?”

“Wind Archer,” he corrected. “Fire Spirit just enjoys stupid nicknames.”

“Could be worse,” she said, stretching her arms. “I was called ‘shithead’ for a whole month after a very questionable night out.”

“BAHAH! I forgot about that!” Fire Spirit howled. “Oh man, I’m telling Windy the whole story later.”

“You’re such a gossip,” she said, but she was smiling.

Wind Archer sighed—but the edge had dulled. He hadn't known what to expect from TimeKeeper, but she seemed... grounded, in her own chaotic way. At least she wasn’t another storm.

TimeKeeper dropped the box with a satisfying thud, flexed her fingers, and dusted her hands like she’d just defused a bomb. “Alright. All yours.”

“No manual or anything?”Wind Archer asked dryly.

She gave him a look. “I’m not Amazon. I found it near the theater dumpster. Painted it. It’s good wood.”

Wind Archer blinked.

“It’s upcycled,” she added. “That’s trendy now.”

Fire Spirit gave a double thumbs-up. “See? Told you she was reliable.”

Wind Archer glanced at the box again, a mixture of horror and cautious curiosity flickering behind his eyes.

He wouldn’t call her reliable, yet he was not in a situation to pick and choose.

So for now.. he would allow it.

“Right then! Let’s get this baby built.” Timekeeper perked up. “Wouldn’t have put it all neat and tidy in this box if I had known I would have been forcing to assemble it.” She sighed, plopping herself down beside the box.

Fire Spirit bent down opposite the other, making futile attempts to pry open the box. “You owe me after all the times I bailed you out of jail.” He retorted.

Okay… so maybe not reliable at all.

“Let me do it,” Wind Archer sighed, effortlessly ripping it  open. Inside lay the cabinet, flat packed and a kaleidoscope of colours sloppily painted on the wood.

He really shouldn’t have listened to Fire Spirit. He should know by now that all his ideas were rubbish. Perhaps well-meaning but utterly unthought out. Honestly, they might as well have gotten that bright red microwave— it would have matched the chaos of this piece of furniture.

“Aren’t you strong! Gosh I fall in love with you more everyday.” Fire Spirit spoke shattering Wind Archers trait of thoughts while a teethy grin lined his face.

Wind Archer knew better than to respond to comment.

“You are so gay.” Time Keeper laughed, taking out the compartments.

“Am not!”

Screws clinked onto the floor, Wind Archer’s instructions were ignored, and his patience frayed to breaking point. Somehow, within ten minutes, Fire Spirit had managed to build a tower instead of a shelf.

TimeKeeper sat cross-legged on the carpet, chin in hand, inspecting the abomination like it was a puzzle game.

Wind Archer, meanwhile, wrestled with a stubborn hinge and quietly questioned every life decision that had led him here. What a mess. Maybe the ramen fortress wasn’t so bad after all.

“That…” TimeKeeper tilted her head, eyes narrowing at the lopsided planks. “That belongs in a modern art museum. It’s very, uh…unique?”

“No. It’s wrong.” Wind Archer snapped, his patience finally slipping. He stomped forward, snatched the warped board from Fire Spirit’s hands, and hissed, “Let me do it myself.”

Fire Spirit froze, eyebrows shooting up. He exchanged a quick glance with TimeKeeper, then cautiously stepped back, confusion flickering across his face. “My bad, dude. We were just… trying to have fun.”

“You’ve had enough fun.” Wind Archer muttered, attempting to force the boards into something resembling stability, though his hands shook slightly as he worked.

The silence stretched, tense and awkward.

Fire Spirit’s jaw tightened. Then, retrieving his wallet and phone from the desk, he pushed to his feet. “Fine. Do it yourself, then. Since we’re such an inconvenience.” His voice carried a sharp edge, one Wind Archer wasn’t used to hearing. He scowled, motioning to TimeKeeper. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Maybe he was too harsh?

Fire Spirit practically raced out of the dorm, TimeKeeper calmly trailing behind.

“Damn, he’s got a short temper. Reminds me of when you were younger,” she commented, pulling a cigarette and lighter from her pocket. “Want one?”

Stopping at a nearby bench, Fire Spirit turned to her. “You know I quit,” he said, voice sharp but strained.

She brought the cigarette to her lips and shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, but you look like you need to blow some steam off.”

A thick cloud of smoke curled between them. Fire Spirit coughed, waving at it. “One wouldn’t hurt.”

The fire from the lighter reflected off his crimson eyes. How long had it been? He had promised himself he would stop. But now, as the seductive scent filled his nose, the temptation was… irresistible.

Inhale. Exhale.

The anger in his chest softened, fading slightly as the smoke worked its temporary magic.

“There we go! Thought you’d lost it for a second,” TimeKeeper joked, her smirk contagious.

“Heh. Never,” he muttered, letting a small grin slip through.

She plopped down beside him on the bench and patted the space next to her. “Come on, let’s talk. So, what’s his name again? Wind Archer?”

Inhale.

“Yeah.”

Exhale.

“What a party pooper! Like, who does he think he is?!”

Shifting uncomfortably, Fire Spirit mumbled, “Yeah… he’s not always like that. Must’ve been in a bad mood.”

Inhale. Exhale.

TimeKeeper exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift lazily into the morning air. “Still… so boring. Why don’t you ask to switch roommates?”

“I don’t want to. Okay?” His tone was quieter now, more defensive than before.

She chuckled softly. “Alright. Sensitive topic.”

They sat for a few minutes, the only sound the occasional rustle of leaves and distant traffic.

Inhale. Exhale.

Finally, breaking the quiet, she spoke, “You wanna go to that new Chinese place? Heard their food’s banging.”

“You know I do.” He laughed, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders.

Wind Archer let out a long sigh of relief.

Finally, after two long, painful hours, the cabinet was done. A little wobbly thanks to the two troublemakers who had “helped,” but still standing.

Yet… he still felt uneasy.

He had lost his cool, and he had made Fire Spirit angry—that was a feat in itself.

Part of him knew, though, that Fire Spirit wouldn’t hold a grudge. He’d probably stroll back into the dorm in a few minutes, acting as if nothing had happened, laughing and teasing.

Whatever. Wind Archer had no time to dwell on such trivial matters.

He turned to the mountain of groceries from yesterday. Why had they bought so much? What a mess.

With methodical precision, he sorted everything into the cabinet by category: dry foods, ingredients, and Fire Spirit’s flamboyant snacks. Then he unboxed his kettle, set it up, and filled it with water for his green tea.

Life felt almost peaceful without Fire Spirit’s endless energy. While the water heated, he decided to give the dorm a quick clean. The place was desperate for it. He sprayed the citrus cleaner and calmly wiped down the desks, humming a simple tune under his breath.

Beep beep! The kettle signaled the water was ready. Wind Archer carefully poured it into his teacup over the tea bag, added two teaspoons of sugar and a dash of honey—his favorite combination. He inhaled the warm steam, letting the quiet wash over him.

He should probably call Millennial Tree. It had been a while since they last spoke. Reaching for his phone, he dialed.

Ringing… ringing…

“Hello, Wind Archer. I’ve missed you,” Millennial Tree’s voice came through, warm and familiar.

“So have I,” Wind Archer said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“How are you? Is college life treating you well?”

“It’s… different. But not unwelcome,” he replied cautiously.

Millennial Tree let out a hearty laugh. “I know how it is. What about your roommate?”

Wind Archer hesitated. “He’s… not bad, but I…”

“You know you can tell me, honey.”

“I was slightly aggressive to him and I don’t want any bad blood,” he admitted quietly.

“Well, that’s easy! Just apologize.”

Wind Archer exhaled softly, letting the advice sink in.

“That was a dumb thing to say, wasn’t it?” he chuckled, almost to himself. “How about you do something nice for him instead? Like cook him something.”

He paused to consider the idea. That wasn’t a bad plan. “Maybe… thank you.”

They drifted into small talk about college life, classes, and the little annoyances and surprises of dorm life. Wind Archer found himself laughing quietly at Millennial Tree’s stories, the familiar comfort easing the lingering tension in his chest.

Eventually, their conversation wound down. “I should let you go. Don’t want to keep you from, you know, real life,” Millennial Tree said.

“Yeah… thanks for advice,” Wind Archer replied. “It was… helpful.”

“You too, honey. Talk soon.”

The line went dead.

Wind Archer set the phone down, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

Well, he was hungry anyway, but far too exhausted to cook anything. Did takeout count as effort? Well… considering it was Fire Spirit, probably.

Opening Google, he typed in healthy takeout restaurants.

Burger place? No way.

McDonald’s? Even worse—not remotely healthy.

Sushi place? Promising enough.

He scrolled past the glossy pictures and overly-enthusiastic reviews, but nothing truly caught his eye. Eventually, he settled on some nigiri and a few side dishes for Fire Spirit, and for himself, a small serving of maki. The only option that didn’t make him feel completely sick.

Fifty bucks—pricey, but it made no significant dent in the allowance Millennial Tree had given him. With a resigned sigh, he checked out.

The waiting was the hardest part. To pass the time, he pulled open his wardrobe and began reorganising, even though it was already impeccable. Shirts by shade, jackets by season, scarves folded with military precision. He adjusted hangers, smoothed sleeves, and tried to distract himself from the gnawing unease still coiled in his chest.

Half an hour later, a light knock rattled the door.

Wind Archer quickly set down the neatly folded sweater he had been fussing over and opened it. The delivery man handed over the neat brown bag, warm with the faint scent of vinegar rice and seaweed. He thanked him quietly, then locked the door again.

He set the takeout on the desk. Two cups, two sets of chopsticks, the food still steaming through the thin cartons. He arranged it carefully, almost ceremonially, like preparing for a guest.

And then he waited.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. And a couple more.

The food cooled, the steam fading into the air. Wind Archer found himself sitting at the desk, elbow propped against his chin, jaw clenched, staring at the untouched second portion.

Where was he?

By the time the door finally opened, Fire Spirit stumbled in with his hoodie half-zipped, hair messy, and the faint smell of smoke clinging to him. His grin was lazy, eyes glazed with exhaustion, but he still waved like nothing was wrong.

“Hey. I’m back.”

Wind Archer’s jaw tightened. He gestured faintly toward the desk. “…Dinner.”

Only then did Fire Spirit notice the food laid out—the maki, the nigiri, all carefully waiting. His grin faltered, guilt flickering across his face.

“You… saved me some?”

Wind Archer didn’t answer immediately. His tea sat cold by his elbow. He simply pushed the second carton toward him, his voice low.

“It’s late. I’ll head for a shower.”

“Thanks for the food…” Fire Spirit muttered, but Wind Archer had already disappeared into the bathroom.

Left alone, Fire Spirit sat at the desk, picking half-heartedly at the sushi. He wasn’t even really hungry, but Wind Archer had clearly put thought into this. The food, the way it was laid out, the dorm cleaned top to bottom. This was Wind Archer’s way of saying my bad. His way of patching things without ever saying the words out loud.

Fire Spirit chewed slowly, guilt weighing heavier than the food in his stomach. He set aside a portion for Wind Archer, arranging it neatly back in its carton, as if that might make up for something.

The bathroom door clicked open. Wind Archer stepped out in his sleepwear, hair damp and clinging slightly to his temples. He moved with quiet efficiency, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey,” Fire Spirit said, gesturing vaguely to the desk. “I left you some.”

Wind Archer didn’t glance his way. “Not hungry. Heading to bed.” His voice was even, clipped. He climbed onto his mattress, pulling the sheets around himself like armor, his back already turned.

Fire Spirit watched him, the faint rise and fall of his shoulders, the deliberate stillness that was louder than words.

“…I’m such an asshole,” he whispered to himself, the words dissolving into the hum of the room.