RONAN I turn on the light, and stand inside the dorm room, the door clicking shut behind me and let my senses adjust the way they are meant to do, slow, deliberate, searching for what doesn't belong.The room doesn't look the same, my part to be exact, and that is a problem.My bed is made too neatly, the blanket pulled tightly at the corners, the desk is aligned, the air feels handled, I cross the room and stop in front of my wardrobe.The doors are closed, perfectly as if the person cared enough to make sure I wouldn't notice, I open it, and at first glance, nothing is wrong. Shirts folded, jackets hung, pants were stacked.But then my chest tightens because the order is off in a way only I would know.I fold by softness, cotton before wool, silk never touches denim. It's my omega instinct, comfort first.Now, the silk scarf rests against cotton. Wool on bare hangers, things have been moved, touched, and returned incorrectly.My fingers tremble as I start counting.One shirt. Two.
Last Updated : 2026-01-31 Read more