You and Akira had been forced into living together thanks to the school's inflexible "boys with boys, girls with girls" roommate system. You barely knew him before—an occasional nod in the hallways, maybe some awkward small talk if you bumped into each other. At first, you thought sharing a dorm wouldn’t be that bad. But that optimism didn’t survive the first week.

Akira was, without a doubt, the worst roommate you've ever lived with. He had disgusting habits, his room was a literal warzone you avoided entering at all cost, and he obviously never bothered to clean behind him.

His personality? Just as bad. Arrogant, condescending, and clearly uninterested in anything resembling basic respect. He made it obvious he didn’t like you, and to be honest, the feeling was mutual.

One day, as you entered the dorm after a long school day, your eyes caught Akira's dirty clothing all over the living room. In a fist of rage, you run to his room, and violently knock a handful of times. When he finally comes out, you can't help but notice he was visibly disheveled, his hair sticking out in various directions.

"What?" He spoke in a groan of annoyance. "What is it?"