Roommate Feel-Good Story の短編小説 & 小説

The last light had just turned off when Hank Liston queued up for his fifth ranked match. He turned on the volume, making sure the game music rocked the entire room. "Jungler!!! What are you doing, sleeping?! We need to jump this guy, you loser!" On the lower bed under me, Ben Singer, who had been holding back for a long while, rasped, "Can't you put your headphones on? I have an interview tomorrow." Hank simply snorted. "Interview? You can sleep the whole day, and you still won't make it in with that rubbish resume of yours. Don't try to blame your failures on me." Ben flushed beet red but didn't argue. Zac Kimmich, our other roommate, had his pillow covering his ears while he gripped the bed post so hard that it was creaking. Hank, however, kept ranting, "We're all in the same room! It's called mutual understanding—get it? I was there with you guys in class, but I can't spend time playing at night? Also, I'm not complaining even though I'm not sleeping, but you guys are sleeping and complaining?!" Suddenly, he turned to me as well. "And you, Carl. Don't try to play dead. You got a lot of money from that scholarship, didn't you? If you're that good, why don't you donate your sleep hours too?" [Roommate disturbance detected. Casting Polymorph. Progress: 1%] Well, since Hank couldn't behave like a proper human being, why not turn him into something else?

When I started college, I wanted a normal college experience, so I refused to use the black card my parents gave me. My roommate, Peggy Slade, was on need-based financial aid. Every day, she did two things. First, she'd sweet-talk her rich, hot online boyfriend and brag about him. Second, she'd make fun of me, the small-town nobody who couldn't even recognize designer brands. All my clothes back home were custom-made, so I honestly didn't know a single logo. I never bothered explaining. Her online romance was more entertaining than reality TV. Then one day, a screenshot of a money transfer popped up on her phone, and I caught a glimpse. 'Wait. She's using my photos for online dating?' Worse, she'd saved her boyfriend under "Arnault Family Heir." 'But the Arnault family in Rivera is my family. And I'm my parents' only daughter.' I immediately called my assistant. "Find out if my parents have an illegitimate kid."

Even though it has become customary for all the heirs of wealthy families to study abroad, my father has specifically chosen a local university for me, saying that he would miss me far too much if I left the country. He also donates a new building to the school so that I would not be mistreated by anyone on campus. The semester soon begins. Not wanting my roommates at the dorm to be intimidated by the economic disparity between us, I decide to dress more simply. But when I arrive at the dorm room, I see that someone else is using the bed I chose. My bedding and belongings now lie scattered all across the floor. Just as I'm about to speak, the young woman proclaims, "I want this bed. You can use a different one. Oh, and I bought a handbag for all of my female classmates, so you can take one as compensation." "But I arrived before you and chose that bed already," I say with a smile. All she does is look me over and scoff derisively. "Who cares if you arrived first and chose it? Since I want it, it's mine now. My dad is Calvin Stuart, the chairman of Lumina Corporation! If I want something, no one in this city dares to protest!" Lumina Corporation? Isn't that the company that reached out to my father this morning to ask for an investment?

On the first day of classes, my roommate gives me a crystal bracelet as a welcome gift. Without thinking, I quickly adorn it around her mother's wrist. In my past life, my roommate wanted to be a social butterfly. She was determined to have a hundred boyfriends by the time she graduated. But no matter how reckless she was, she never ended up conceiving. On the other hand, I kept getting pregnant and having countless miscarriages. But unlike her, I had never been in a relationship. The entire university mocked me, labeling me promiscuous and shameless. During my 66th miscarriage, I died on the operating table from severe bleeding. It was only after death that I realized the crystal bracelet my roommate gave me had somehow linked our wombs together. As soon as I opened my eyes, I realized I had gone back to the first day of the semester.

My best friend, Natalie Grey, was the most famous pushover class president in the entire management department. When classmates didn't pay their class dues, she covered them out of her own pocket. When people sent her on errands and dumped grunt work on her, she kept her head down and did every bit of it. When someone got written up and pinned the blame on her, she quietly took the fall. I, on the other hand, breathed a sigh of relief and told her to keep it up. Because deep down, Natalie was a little hellion. Emotionally detached and born with a screw loose, she was the kind of person who would actually take a knife to someone in real life. When we were kids, a boy from our town picked on me. Natalie pinned him to the ground and beat him so badly it took three or four grown-ups to drag her off. He ended up in the hospital for three days. Natalie climbed a drainpipe up to his fifth-floor room and yanked out his oxygen tube. He was so scared that his family moved away the very next day. I was terrified she would one day do something she couldn't take back, so I poured everything I had into training her to be sweet and docile. Then Selena Morrison, the department's it-girl, moved into my dorm room. She made me pick up her meals and fetch her packages, but she never paid me a single cent. Every time we split a bill, she made a point of rounding her share down. With no money left for food, I lost thirty-three pounds. When I finally tried to stop picking up her meals, Selena went straight online and posted that I was jealous of her and out to get her. Suddenly, every guy in the school had it out for me. My bike, parked outside the dorm, got smashed to pieces. My food deliveries kept disappearing the moment they arrived. One day, as I stood helplessly over yet another takeout order splattered across the ground, Selena looked at me with a smile. "Come on, be a good girl. Being my servant is an honor..." There was a loud bang. Before Selena could even finish her sentence, she went flying half a mile. I snapped my head up. Natalie was walking toward me, her face dark...

I saw my college roommate send a voice message into a group chat. I watched his screen as our four other roommates responded. However, there were no notifications on my phone. That was when I realized the five of them had created a group without me. In that group, they complained about me being a dumb rich kid, cursed my mom for being a homewrecker, and secretly took nude photographs of me. They were even planning to drug me and give me to a older rich woman for her entertainment. I covered all their meals, drinks, and living expenses, yet they dared to betray me? Fine. I would show them the true rage of a trust fund kid!

Sawyer Lund is my brother, and I've been his wingman since we were kids. Growing up, my absolute favorite thing to do was serving him—bringing him his drinks, getting his food, even lighting his cigarettes. I do it happily and never complain. When Sawyer gets accepted into Javon University, I waste no time skipping grades and following him there. On the first day of the semester, Sawyer walks into our dorm room with eight bodyguards. Our roommates greet him enthusiastically while I busy myself cleaning up his desk. Harvey Warren is the only roommate who mocks me pointedly for it. "You're not Sawyer's roommate," he says. "You're clearly his lackey." I just smile and stay silent. One day, Sawyer carelessly tosses his newly purchased Patek Philippe to me and says, "The colorway suits your style better. You should wear it instead." Harvey happens to walk past the door just as I accept the watch with a smile. Over the weekend, with Sawyer away on a business trip abroad, Harvey and I are the only ones left in the dorm. "Do you know what everyone in class calls you behind your back, Felix?" he says. "Sawyer's lapdog." The next day, Ruby Sutton, the campus belle who happens to be my girlfriend, tells me to meet her out on the field. She furrows her brow deeply the moment she sees me. "Do you have to be this pathetic, Felix? How could you throw away your dignity and become someone's lapdog just for a watch? Harvey's family isn't well-off, but even he lives with more dignity than you do." She pauses, then delivers another crushing blow. "Harvey takes the top spot in our major yet again in this term's finals. What do you have to show for yourself? You spend all your time acting as a glorified goon while your grades sit at rock bottom. Do you not feel ashamed, Felix?" Harvey tugs gently at her sleeve and lowers his head. "Please stop arguing with him, Ruby. You know how much I dislike this kind of thing." Ruby's expression immediately softens. I watch her rub his shoulder and smirk. Has nobody noticed that Sawyer and I have the same last name—Lund?

My roommate, Nathan White, says he practices extreme mindfulness and can't kill any living creatures. On the very first day of college, he grabs my electric mosquito swatter and stops me. "Mosquitoes are living creatures too. How can you kill them?" That night, he opens every window in our dorm, saying he wants to leave the door open for any little lives that have lost their way. I get bitten so badly that I develop a high fever and an allergic reaction. My eyelids swell so much that I can barely open my eyes. When I put up a mosquito net, he tears it down with tears in his eyes. "How can you be so selfish? If you cover yourself up, what's going to happen to them?" In my previous life, those words marked the beginning of my condemnation by everyone in my dorm, my entire class, and even the campus confession page. They say I'm cold-blooded and that Nathan is simply too kindhearted and criticize me for being unable to tolerate just a few mosquitoes. In the end, my high fever leads to an infection, and I go into anaphylactic shock and end up in the ICU. Meanwhile, Nathan faces the camera with an aggrieved expression and claims that my hostility is what provoked the mosquitoes to attack me. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the first day of college. Nathan is holding down my electric mosquito swatter and looking at me expectantly. "You won't hurt them, right?" I pick up my phone and head straight to the office of the faculty member in charge. "Ms. Zimmer, I'd like to apply for permission to live off campus." Whoever wants to turn the dorm into a wildlife sanctuary can do as they please. I want no part in it.

I'm the ultimate soft touch. My dirt-poor roommate used to survive by digging through trash cans for food. Pity got the better of me, so I covered his tuition, his living expenses, and slipped him fifty dollars a day out of my own pocket. My only condition: he had to tag along whenever I went to my private tutoring sessions. I thought he was grateful for it. Then, junior year, he strutted into the classroom head to toe in designer labels and hurled fifty coins in my face in front of the whole class. "Fifty a day, and you treated me like your personal slave for three years—dragged me along to sit through lectures I couldn't even follow, humiliated me every step of the way! "Well, guess what? My real father just tracked me down. He's a billionaire, and he handed me a black card with no spending limit. Here's your fifty back. I'm done being your errand boy. "And I'll never turn into some arrogant jerk just because I've got a little money—unlike you!" Then he handed out luxury bags to everyone in the class except me. The whole room fell for it instantly, chanting, "Long live Elmer!" I stared at the forty-three purchase notifications that had just popped up on my phone and went quiet. I checked again. My black card—the one my father had given me—was gone. Everything clicked into place. The rich long-lost father? All fake. He'd simply stolen my black card, played dress-up as a billionaire's son, and stomped on me on his way up. Without a word, I made one phone call. And transferred the black card into his name. He'd clearly watched too many soap operas—he thought a black card was some kind of savings account. He had no idea it was just a credit card with a higher limit, and every cent he spent on it, he'd owe back.

My roommate beamed with pride as she told me a horrifying secret: she had allowed a wealthy businessman to "remove" her unborn child, claiming he absorbed the baby’s fortune in exchange for a hefty payout. Chills ran down my spine. I urged her to stop meddling with such dark dealings before it destroyed her, but she wouldn’t listen. Instead, she threw herself into it, addicted to helping people "transfer luck" for money. Her luck ran out when she contracted a mysterious disease. When her boyfriend found out, she turned on me, tearfully accusing me of tying her to another man’s bed. Before I could even defend myself, an enraged man ran me down with his car. The next thing I knew, I woke up to find myself back in time. My roommate was leaning in close, her eyes glinting with excitement as she whispered, asking if I wanted to join her "luck transfer" schemes. This time, I wasn’t taking any chances. I noticed the slight swell of her belly and immediately sent a text to her boyfriend: "Congrats! You’re going to be a dad!"

After the semester began, all of my dorm mates wanted a part-time job. To fit in, I said I wanted one too. One by one, my dorm mates found part-time jobs, while I was still lazing around in the dorm. My dorm mate sent me a message. [How are you going to get by without a job?] I remembered a meme I'd seen online and texted back, "A kind middle-aged couple pays my bills, so I don't need a job right now." I didn't think much of it, until I stumbled across a post on social media. [My dorm mate said she wanted to get a part-time job, but all she does is lie around the dorm. When I asked how she could afford not to work, she said a married couple was paying all her bills. Should I report her for misconduct?] I thought it was funny. The comments gave her all kinds of advice. [Report her! What if she takes a scholarship spot from you?] [Exactly, get her expelled!] I still didn't think much of it until my academic advisor, Ethan Davis, showed up at my door. "Chloe, someone reported you for misconduct. They claim you're a sugar baby. Is that true?"

For three years in college, I was basically the dorms’ unpaid tech support. I was always on call, never charging for dust cleaning, thermal paste replacement, and operating system installations. Then senior year started, and Mickey, a freshman, called me out in the dorm group chat. “You know thermal paste only costs a few bucks a tube, right? Yet, he’s seriously charging you guys two cans of energy drinks for the job.” Mickey added smugly. “My family runs a computer store. Come to me instead. I’ll charge you a can for the service, and I can guarantee authentic parts.” The group chat blew up. “The kid’s legit!” “Well, Axis isn't getting any more energy drinks from me.” I read the messages and quietly packed away my tools in the cabinet. They had no idea the thermal paste I used cost nearly forty bucks a tube. The dust cleaning was done with professional-grade equipment. Little did they know, the so-called genuine parts sold on the market were mostly refurbished parts with a fresh coat of paint. I got into bed and pulled a sleep mask over my eyes. Honestly, this couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. I’d been wondering when these days of doing free repairs at my expense would finally end. Well, there's my ticket out.

My dormmate, Mona Joyce, is notorious for always enabling her younger brother, Matthew Joyce. For Matthew's sake, she lives on bread and water just so she can send all her side income back home to him. Everyone says that she has it rough and has been dealt a bad hand by fate. Yet, she only ever steals from me, not anyone else. She stole my skincare products and gave them to Matthew's girlfriend. She stole my tablet so that Matthew could use it for his university entrance exam. Every time she was discovered, she would cry her heart out. In my past life, everyone would advise me to be the bigger person every time I wanted to make a police report. "You're doing well for yourself, so what's wrong with letting her use it for a bit?" "It's not as if you're unaware of her family situation." "Hasn't she already returned it to you?" "It won't do anyone any good to make a big deal out of this. It'll only impact our school's reputation." So, I let things slide. Later, one day before my thesis defense, she stole my flash drive. With only two hours remaining before my thesis defense, I tearfully begged her to return it to me. She told me that Matthew, assuming it was an ordinary flash drive, had formatted it. My graduation was deferred, causing me to have a breakdown and call the police. However, Mona and her entire family cornered me at the school entrance. Her mother, Karen Pratt, accused me of ruining Matthew's future. When I next opened my eyes, I had returned to the day Mona first stole my money. This time, I'm done arguing with her. I simply placed a purse belonging to one of my incredibly "magnanimous" dormmates in my drawer with a smile.

My roommate, Madison Walker, clutches her stomach and leans over to whisper that she has her period. She asks if I have a pad. I don't give her one. Instead, I stand up and call out to the entire lecture hall. "Madison got her period! Does anyone have a pad she can use?" In my past life, I'd discreetly pulled a pad from my bag and kindly handed it to her. Three days later, she tested positive for HIV and faced expulsion. Madison choked back tears as she cried, "The only person who gave me a pad was Calista. The wrapper was already open, but I didn't think anything of it. "I don't know if she did it on purpose, but now I'm HIV-positive! My life is ruined!" The student advisor, Percy Cobb, refused to listen to my explanation. He forced me to take an immediate leave of absence and called the police, accusing me of deliberately spreading an infectious disease. Not only did I lose my diploma and my opportunity to study abroad, but I was also relentlessly cyberbullied and harassed until a normal life became impossible. Ultimately, I jumped from an overpass and ended my life. It was only after my death that I discovered Madison had already contracted HIV before she ever asked me for a pad. She had been seeing multiple guys at once. When everything fell apart, she panicked at the thought of the consequences and used me as a scapegoat. She also had me expelled so she could steal the single remaining spot for the student exchange program. This time, I turn Madison down in front of the entire class. Let's see how she plans to pin her illness on me now.

My roommate, Andrew Hayes, has become obsessed with this viral tiramisu place off campus. Every night without fail, he brings a box of it back. He tries to sell us on it more than once. Supposedly the texture is silky and rich, and it melts in the mouth. I just can't be bothered to care. Everything changes on the day before the grad school recommendation list is posted. My pen is moving across the page of a paper when something at the edge of my vision suddenly catches my eye. A few lines of text have appeared. [Tonight, your roommate, Andrew, will ask you to help him buy tiramisu from that viral dessert shop. After he eats it, he'll rush out of the dorm. The next day, the police will take you away on charges of aggravated assault. [Online exposés will say you attacked your roommate out of jealousy, and the Internet will explode with outrage. Relentless cyberbullying will consume your life. Even your parents will get dragged down with you and lose their steady jobs. Ultimately, you'll be driven into a mental breakdown and die from depression.] I figure I've started hallucinating after finally cracking under the pressure, so I toss the workbook aside. That night, Andrew pushes open the dorm room door. His tone is easy and familiar as he asks, "Luke, grab me a tiramisu on your way back, okay?" My brain blanks for a second. This scene matches the prediction word for word. Andrew's smile is bright and sunny as he walks closer, but I only feel a chill down my spine because of one of the prediction's sentences. [After you're taken in for questioning, you'll miss your interview. The guaranteed grad school spot will fall right into Andrew's lap.] Is Andrew really going to ruin my entire life over a single guaranteed grad school slot? My grip tightens around my pen. I say, "Sorry, Andrew. It's not really convenient for me."

Being a good saleswoman means knowing how to make money and save it. So when my landlord said someone wanted to split the rent with me, I jumped at the chance. My new roommate kept regular hours. He was neat and even knew how to cook. His only downside was that he barely talked. But to me, that was a plus. Quiet and emotionally stable. Perfect. Then came the year-end company meeting. As the top salesperson, I was invited to sit with the executives. The man at the head of the table looked up. His expression was cold and distant. My manager introduced him as the heir to Prescott Group. Except... I could've sworn he was my quiet roommate. I'm speechless. Here's the thing. I got drunk last night and accidentally ripped his pants and boxers. Think I still have time to sew them back?

During my senior year of high school, I moved into an old house just to save money. Something about the place felt off. At first, it was just things I casually put down disappearing without a trace. Then, random objects that didn't belong to me started appearing around the house. One night, I finished my homework and was about to go to sleep when a girl's tank top suddenly fell from the ceiling. I froze for several seconds. Just as I was about to throw it away, I heard someone cursing out of nowhere. "Who's there? Darn it! What kind of creep steals a tank top?"

The day I received my full-time offer email, my roommate suddenly popped her head out from her bunk curtain. "Megan, go ahead and decline that job offer email." I froze, turning around to stare at her in disbelief. "Anna, what are you talking about?" She looked down at me, taking her sweet time before speaking. "Your team lead is my boyfriend. That spot was reserved for me all along." My heart skipped a beat. Was I really dealing with a nepo-baby trying to hijack my job? I closed my laptop and stepped over to her bed. "Wait, you've never even interned at our company." "I don't need to intern. I'm a direct hire," she declared, her tone oozing confidence and arrogance. My eyelids twitched as I pulled up my team lead's social media feed, but there wasn't a single photo of them together. "So, how long have you two been dating?" "We're about to start dating." "What do you mean by about to?" "I just sent him a friend request. As soon as he accepts, we're official."

After my roommate Cecelia Turner stepped out, the tablet she had left on the table suddenly lit up. I glanced at it absentmindedly and saw the group chat name—Free Riders Club. 'Celebrating this month's huge payday!' Several cash drops flooded the chat in quick succession. My interest was piqued. So, I tapped in to take a look. Besides Cecelia, the group included our landlord and the other two roommates. 'Thanks, Cece! We couldn't have saved up so much money if you hadn't come up with the idea of overcharging Ziegler on the rent!' 'Exactly! Honestly, having Madison as a free live-in maid means we even save on housekeeping and takeout!' The chat was filled with laughter as everyone chimed in to thank me for my "free services." Although they were thanking me, I was the only one who wasn't included in that group chat.

Right before graduation, our Resident Advisor (RA), Jasper Hollister, posts a message in the group chat announcing a hygiene inspection in two days. At the same time, he sets up a pool and demands 200 dollars from each of us to hire a professional cleaner. I immediately ask, "How on earth does a cleaning service cost 800 dollars for a tiny four-person dorm room?" Jasper instantly gets defensive and snaps, "If we get held back from graduating because of you, are you gonna take the blame?" Not wanting any drama, I just pay up and spend the next two days quietly grinding out my thesis at the library. On inspection day, I get a furious phone call from our Residence Hall Director, Deborah Campbell, screaming at me to get back to the room immediately. I push the door open to find the other three beds are spotless. Meanwhile, my bed and desk are buried under a mountain of takeout containers and trash that reeks to high heaven.