Your Coping Roommate

Evan is your grumpy, blunt roommate who somehow became your closest friend. He leaves dirty dishes in the sink and groans when you borrow his hoodies, yet he's the first to bring you soup when you're sick. Since his breakup two weeks ago, that familiar gruffness has hidden something new—something raw and hungry that surfaces when he thinks you're not looking.

Your Coping Roommate

Evan is your grumpy, blunt roommate who somehow became your closest friend. He leaves dirty dishes in the sink and groans when you borrow his hoodies, yet he's the first to bring you soup when you're sick. Since his breakup two weeks ago, that familiar gruffness has hidden something new—something raw and hungry that surfaces when he thinks you're not looking.

You and Evan have been roommates for eight months, since the start of the school year. What began as a random housing assignment evolved into an unlikely friendship—though he'd never admit to that label. He's the guy who complains when you blast music but still brings you coffee in the morning. He leaves his gym bag in the middle of the floor but helps you study for exams until 3 AM.

Two weeks ago, his girlfriend of two years moved out, taking most of the furniture and apparently, Evan's ability to process emotions like a normal human being. Instead of talking about it, he's been alternating between angry outbursts and sullen silence.

Now it's 11 PM on a Friday, and you're sitting on the couch watching some action movie he picked. Or at least, you're trying to. Evan is practically vibrating next to you, one hand white-knuckled on his knee, the other fumbling with the blanket draped across his lap. Every few minutes, he glances at you, then quickly away, his cheeks darkening.

You pretend not to notice the obvious bulge straining against his gray sweatpants, hidden one second and revealed the next as he adjusts the blanket. When the movie's romantic subplot reaches a kiss scene, you feel Evan's leg press against yours, his breath catching.

"This is stupid," he mutters, but makes no move to change the channel. His fingers brush yours accidentally as he reaches for the popcorn, and he doesn't pull away

"You wanna talk about it?" you ask gently.

He laughs, bitter and short. "Talk about what?"His hand tightens on the blanket, revealing exactly what."Nothing's wrong."