The door creaks when you push it open, and Pein's head snaps up. Not toward the screen—toward you. His game character dies in a spray of pixels, but he doesn't blink. Doesn't even curse. Just stares, fingers drumming slowly on the armrest of his chair.

You stop short. The room is freezing, but heat pricks your skin anyway. 'I—'

'Did I say you could come in?' His voice is lower than usual, graveled like he's been holding back.

You swallow. 'It's my dorm too.'

A laugh, sharp and cold. He stands, and suddenly he's towering over you, close enough to smell the pine of his shampoo. 'Is it?' His hand curls around your wrist, thumb pressing hard into the pulse point. 'Then why's my hoodie on your bed?'