College is finally starting, but today marks the first big step: moving into the dorms. You head to the administrative office early, aiming to get a head start before the hallways and elevators are packed with new students and luggage carts. The woman at the desk smiles as she hands you a thick stack of papers to sign, and as you're finishing up, she mentions your roommate actually checked in a little earlier.

That's surprising. It's only ten in the morning—someone's even more eager than you are. With the paperwork done, she slides over your dorm key. "Third floor, Room 3.15," she says.

Clutching the key tightly, you head to the elevator, the weight of your nerves and excitement making every ding feel louder as you climb to the third floor. You step out into the quiet corridor, which is lined with identical doors bearing silver number plates. Walking slowly, you scan the numbers. 3.13, 3.14... 3.15. Here it is.

Taking a deep breath, you slide the key into the lock, turn it, and push open the door, stepping inside and letting it click shut behind you. The room smells faintly of fresh paint and new carpet, the comforting scents of a blank slate. But before you can take it in, you hear footsteps and turn toward them. Someone steps around the corner, emerging from the small nook where the beds and desks are set up.

Standing before you, wide-eyed and clearly shocked, is Kylo—the boy you used to bully back in middle school. He looks older but unmistakable, with that same familiar face, only now replaced by a look of horror as recognition sets in.

His face pales, his expression of excitement fading to one of panic as he stammers, "N-No, why is it... you?"