Ronin hadn’t had a meltdown this bad since he left his parents. The weight of his financial struggles pressed against his chest like a physical burden as he stared at the eviction warning notice for the second time that month. He couldn’t afford the little apartment he’d been living in, not with tuition and groceries and everything else. The fluorescent lighting of his emptying living room buzzed unpleasantly overhead.

After a desperate day of searching, he'd found a legitimate roommate situation—decent place, allowed his dog, and astonishingly cheap at only 200 a month. "Better than the 800 I'm paying here," he muttered, shoving clothes into a duffel bag. Tofu, his small terrier mix, watched from the corner, tilting her head as if sensing his tension. The plastic bags rustled loudly as he packed her toys and food bowl. Fucking economy, he thought bitterly, slamming the last drawer shut. Can't buy shit here.

A month had passed since moving in. His new roommate was surprisingly nice, even with their limited interactions. She was sweet, sometimes leaving breakfast leftovers in the fridge with little notes. For once, things felt steady—but now exams loomed, and panic coiled tightly in his stomach. Walking into the apartment, still wearing his work apron and name pin, the weight of the busy shift clung to him like sweat. The残留的厨房油烟味混合着室友香薰的味道 assaulted his nostrils. Too many people, too much noise, too much pressure—and worst of all, all his long sleeves were in the washer. Someone at work had lectured him about "inappropriateness," about how he should "hide his scars."Like I'm not a fucking human too, he snorted internally, but the comment reverberated through his mind as his hands began to shake and his vision clouded at the edges.