All Chapters of More Than Roommates : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Alex~I sit through the last few minutes of Media Theory with my pen tapping against the edge of my notebook.The sound is small, but it’s the only thing keeping me from thinking too hard.There’s a faint buzz in the room—not the normal low chatter, but something tighter, contained laughter that dies when I look up.Jordan leans closer, his shoulder brushing mine.He grins like he’s about to let me in on a secret. “So,” he murmurs under his breath, “we’re just not talking about it?”I glance at him, frown forming. “Talking about what?”He raises both brows. “You. Seth. The bar.”My pulse stutters. “What bar?”Jordan’s grin sharpens. “Oh, come on. Someone saw you guys leaving that queer place near campus Saturday night. Didn’t know you swung that way, man. Should I be congratulating you? Finally out?”My pen stills. “We weren’t… we didn’t…” The words jam together in my mouth. “It wasn’t like that.”Jordan studies my face for half a second, and his grin softens into something almost

Alex~ I eventually do sleep wake up to the sound of keys clinking against each other, muted by the soft hum of Seth’s laptop fan. For a moment, I don’t move. The light slipping through the blinds is pale, washed‑out, and Seth is still asleep on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes like he’s trying to block the day out. His chest rises and falls steadily, mouth slightly open. My body feels heavy, but not the kind of heavy that drags you under more like a strange, empty calm after a storm. I sit up slowly, rubbing my face, and the memories come back in quiet flashes. The way we both agreed, quietly, to stop whatever we were doing. I stand, grab my towel, and head to the bathroom. The mirror still shows too much, my hair is a mess, my eyes are shadowed but I don’t stare too long this time. I brush my teeth, rinse my face, and head back out just as Seth stirs. His voice is rough with sleep. “You’re up early.” I glance at him, shrugging. “Couldn’t sleep.” He props himself o

Seth~“Again,” Coach barks and we run it again, corner to corner, pass, screen, cut, fake, drive. My lungs are aching, but I don’t stop.Correction.I can’t stop. Not after this week. Not after the look on Alex’s face when he said we have to stop. Not when I still hear his voice every time my mind quiets. Not when I still stroke myself to the moans he made. My duck twitches in my pants. Alex is under my skin now.I’m moving on autopilot until Jay elbows me in the ribs during a switch.“You good, man?” he asks, panting.I nod, even though I’m not. “Just tired.”He grins. “You always play harder when something’s eating you.”I don’t reply because yeah, maybe something’s eating me. Or maybe it’s someone.Someone I can’t have.We wrap up drills and split for a quick scrimmage. The court’s loud with the squeaking shoes, grunts and complaints from my teammates , the thud of bodies and the thwack of the ball bouncing off backboards. I keep moving, ball in my hand, trying to focus on plays

Alex~I still remember the way my tie wouldn’t stay straight.It was a school debate competition, I was twelve at the time my blazer sleeves were too long, and my palms wouldn’t stop sweating no matter how many times I wiped them on my trousers. My father had leaned down just before I stepped onto the podium, eyes sharp behind his glasses.“Don’t embarrass us,” he whispered, like it was a prayer and a warning all at once.But of course I had. I froze two sentences in, forgot the statistics, mumbled through the rest with my throat closing up and my classmates watching like they already knew I’d choke. When I stumbled off stage, I didn’t cry not until we got home and my mum said, “Next time, don’t sign up if you’re not ready.” She said it gently, like advice, but it sank into my ribs like shame.Even now, my tie doesn’t feel like it sits straight. There’s no tie, obviously it’s dinner time, in my own dorm room, on a random Tuesday but I still feel off-center, like I’ve got something to

Alex~I don’t remember the first lecture I skipped.It was probably Tuesday or maybe Wednesday but the days keep folding into each other like laundry I’ll never get around to, and everything’s starting to rot beneath the weight of being left too long. I tell myself it’s just one class, just one absence, just a little slip.But soon enough, I’m not opening my laptop. I’m not responding to group chats. I stop setting alarms and start sleeping with my phone face-down, like if I don’t see the notifications, they won’t remind me of all the things I’m failing at my assignments, friends, Seth.Seth.God, just thinking about his name guts me.Every time I glance at his bed, now empty and made too neatly, I feel like my skin is too tight. Like I’m trapped in something that used to feel safe and warm and now just feels like evidence. I can’t bring myself to touch the duffel bag he didn’t take, I can’t even look at it without thinking about the way his mouth trembled when he said, “You don’t ge