Chapter Text
You stood at the doorway of your new dorm, the heavy wooden door ajar behind you, a suitcase in hand and a nervous thrumming in your gut. This was your first time living on campus, and the first time you were living alone. The halls of the prestigious campus were filled with student who looked like they belonged—well-dressed, well-groomed, rich. And then there was you.
You, a girl from the edge of town who’d fought tooth and nail for her grades, were now surrounded by the children of CEOs, politicians, and the wealthy elite. Everything here screamed luxury. You could feel the weight of it all in every polished floor and expensive detail of the school that now demanded perfection from you.
You take a breath and step inside the room. Your eyes land on the figure lounging on one of the beds, the sharp scent of cigarette smoke clinging to the air like a haze. A girl with short, chestnut-colored hair glanced up lazily, a cigarette hanging from her lips. You were surprised. She didn't look the type.
"Oh, hey, you must be the new kid," she said, eyes half-lidded as though she couldn't be bothered with introductions. "I'm Shoko. Your roommate."
Her voice was soft but edged with a casual nonchalance that put you somewhat at ease. You tried to offer a smile but felt the tightness in your chest still there. She didn't seem to notice your awkwardness, though, or if she did, she didn’t comment on it. You busied yourself unpacking as she smoked quietly, occasionally exhaling a long stream of smoke that swirled through the air. You couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose a bit at the smell.
Suddenly, the door flew open behind you, slamming against the wall with a loud thud. You nearly jumped out of your skin as a tall boy with stark white hair barreled into the room, grinning like a devil. "Shoko!" he yelled, immediately making a beeline for your roommate’s bed. "Why didn’t you tell me you got a new plaything?"
You froze, eyes wide, trying to process his sudden appearance. He practically leaped onto the bed next to Shoko, who didn’t seem phased in the slightest, simply taking another drag from her cigarette as if this was completely normal. "You’re such a pain in the ass, Satoru," Shoko muttered, flicking her ash into an already overflowing tray. "You’re gonna scare her off if you keep acting like an idiot."
Your heart was still pounding in your chest as you stared at him. Satoru, huh? He was tall—ridiculously tall, actually—and his messy white hair made him stand out even more. You tried to focus on your unpacking, forcing your hands to move, but couldn’t help stealing glances at him.
He was stretched out on Shoko’s bed, his piercing blue eyes darting in your direction every few seconds, like he was gauging your reaction. His lips curved into an arrogant grin, as if he found your nervousness amusing. "Look at her," Satoru teased, shifting his weight so that he was propped up on one elbow, fully focused on you now. "She’s terrified. Didn’t know Shoko’s roommate was so skittish."
You clenched your fists around the fabric of your clothes, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up your neck. What were you supposed to say to that? Nothing, probably. Nothing good would come from arguing with someone like him. You could feel it in the way he spoke, like he was used to pushing people around for fun.
Satoru's voice broke through your thoughts again. "What’s your name, freshman?"
Your throat felt dry. You opened your mouth to respond, but Shoko beat you to it.
"Jesus, leave her alone, Satoru," she said, her voice flat but firm. She gave him a sideways glance, exhaling another cloud of smoke. "You’re gonna freak her out before she even gets settled. Not everyone’s used to your shit, you know?"
He shrugged, seemingly unfazed by Shoko’s remark. "Fine, fine." He threw his hands up in mock surrender, though the smirk never left his face. He backed up a step but didn't seem in a rush to leave, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place. "So, you still coming out tonight?" Satoru asked, glancing over at Shoko.
Shoko groaned, running a hand through her hair. "I don’t know...I’m not feeling it. I get annoyed with everyone halfway through and leave early anyway."
"You do that every time," Satoru said, grinning wider, stepping further into the room. "But it’s tradition now. You show up, hang out for thirty minutes, complain about how everyone’s an idiot, and then bail. It’s practically part of the party."
Shoko exhaled a long stream of smoke, shaking her head. "Yeah, real fun for me," she muttered sarcastically. "I don’t think I’m in the mood to deal with everyone’s shit tonight."
"Please?" He practically whined, giving her puppy-dog eyes.
You were doing your best to focus on unpacking, trying to pretend you weren’t eavesdropping on their conversation, but the more they talked, the more your curiosity piqued. A party. Of course, the elite students here threw parties, probably every weekend. You weren’t exactly party material, though. You'd never even been to a real one.
Then, Satoru’s attention shifted back to you.
"You can come too, you know," he said, voice suddenly filled with an extra layer of charm that made your stomach twist in on itself. His eyes gleamed, like he was enjoying watching your reaction. "No point sitting here all night alone, right?"
You blinked, heart racing. "Uh..." You scrambled for an excuse, feeling cornered. "I didn’t really bring anything for a party. I don’t have the right clothes..."
He waved you off, like that wasn’t even an issue. "Just borrow something from Shoko. She’s got plenty of shit to wear."
Shoko shot him an annoyed glance. "Satoru, shut up. She probably doesn’t even want to go, right?"
You nodded a little too quickly, relieved at the lifeline Shoko was offering. "Yeah, I—I don’t know if I’d be comfortable—"
But Satoru wasn’t letting up. He stepped closer, the playful grin never leaving his face, his voice dropping into a teasing tone. "Aw, come on. It’ll be fun. You don’t wanna miss your first college party, do you? I promise I’ll behave." His gaze flickered over you, and the way he looked at you made your skin prickle, unsure if he was serious or just messing with you for kicks. "It’ll be a good time."
You swallowed hard, trying to find a way out, but something about his persistent charm—no, arrogance—was making it difficult to say no. It wasn’t that you wanted to go, but there was something unsettling about how much he seemed to enjoy your discomfort. He was like a cat toying with a mouse, and you were the mouse.
"Cut it out, Satoru," Shoko interrupted, her words clipped. "You’re being a fucking dumbass, as per usual." She gave him a warning glare, but he didn't even blink, just shrugged and backed away.
He didn’t look the least bit apologetic, his eyes still locked on yours, and you had to force yourself to look away. "Seriously, think about it. It might be fun." You bit your lip, feeling the pressure building. You didn’t want to make waves on your first day, especially not with someone like him. The idea of being thrown into a party full of strangers with no escape made your throat tighten.
"She doesn’t have to go if she doesn’t want to. Stop harassing her, Satoru."
He sighed dramatically, like he was giving up, but there was a flicker in his eyes that told you this wasn’t over. "Fine, fine. But you’re missing out, freshman," he said, shooting you one last playful glance before heading for the door again. "And you’re still coming, Shoko," he called over his shoulder. "I’ll drag you there myself if I have to."
Shoko rolled her eyes, flicking her cigarette into the ashtray. "Yeah, yeah. We’ll see."
With that, Satoru finally left the room, leaving you with your heart pounding in your chest and the distinct feeling that this wasn’t the last time you’d have to deal with him. You took a shaky breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Shoko glanced over at you, a half-smirk on her face. "Sorry about him," she said, her voice softer now, the edge from earlier gone. "Satoru’s an idiot. Always has been."
You nodded awkwardly, still feeling the lingering embarrassment from his teasing. "It’s fine," you mumbled, though your voice was a little too high-pitched to be convincing. You weren’t exactly fine, but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it either. The last thing you needed was to come across as weak or overly sensitive on your first day.
Shoko sighed, sitting up on her bed and stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray. "Anyway, enough about that idiot. What’s your major?" She leaned back on her hands, watching you with a bit more interest now. "You must be pretty smart to snag a scholarship here."
The fact that she knew that surprised you a little, but you guessed word traveled fast among the rich kids. You shifted, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "Oh, um...I’m majoring in anthropology."
"Anthropology, huh? Studying people and cultures and all that?"
"Yeah," you said, a little more comfortable now. "I’ve always been interested in how different societies work, their customs, beliefs, how they’ve evolved over time. I guess I just...like learning about people."
"So, you’re into studying people but hate being around them. Interesting."
You let out a small, nervous laugh. "Something like that."
She stretched out, her eyes half-lidded as she seemed to mull over your answer. "Anthropology’s pretty cool, though. You’ll probably get to travel a lot if you stick with it. Better than being stuck in a lab or an office all day."
You nodded, feeling a bit more at ease now. "That’s the hope. I'm working towards being a lawyer."
Shoko gave a low whistle. "Damn, ambitious. I respect that."
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Sure, you’d probably have to deal with Satoru and his relentless teasing, but at least Shoko seemed cool—chill in a way that made you think you could get along just fine. Shoko glanced at the clock on the wall and then back at you. "You ever been to any party before?"
Your stomach dropped a little. "No," you admitted, feeling a bit out of place again.
"Well, don’t worry. I’ll make sure Satoru doesn’t pull any more dumb shit."
At least you had one person looking out for you. But even with Shoko’s casual reassurance, you weren’t sure if a party—especially one filled with rich, entitled students—was something you could handle. "I might skip out," you mumbled, feeling the weight of social anxiety pressing in again. "But thanks for offering."
Shoko waved you off like it was no big deal. "Suit yourself," she said, standing up and stretching like a cat. "But if you change your mind, feel free to rummage through my closet. Take whatever you want. I honestly don’t give a fuck."
That last part made you pause. Shoko’s wardrobe probably cost more than your entire tuition. Her lack of concern about lending out her clothes confirmed what you already suspected—she was well off, like most of the students here. Yet, despite her wealth, she had this easy, laid-back attitude, the kind that made you feel like she didn’t really care about material things. Maybe that’s why she didn’t act like Satoru, flaunting her status and teasing you. Still, it was hard to wrap your head around someone being so nonchalant about their privilege.
As Shoko moved toward the door, she gave you a tiny grin. "I’m gonna head out for a bit, do my own thing. I’ll be back later to change for the party. I’ll grab you just in case you change your mind."
You nodded, watching as she slipped out the door, leaving you alone in the dorm. The silence almost comforting, but it also gave your mind too much space to wander. The truth was, you didn’t have much to do. You’d already unpacked, though that wasn’t saying much. You hadn’t brought a lot with you—just the essentials, really. A few changes of clothes, some books, your laptop, and not much else. Compared to the wealthy students here who probably moved in with wardrobes full of designer outfits and decorations for their rooms, your belongings felt pitifully small.
Shoko’s side was, predictably, more lived-in. Clothes were strewn across her bed, and a couple of cigarette packs were tucked into the corner of her desk. The closet door was slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of expensive clothes inside.
Despite telling Shoko you weren’t interested in going to the party, curiosity gnawed at you. Maybe, just for a moment, you could blend in, even if you didn’t feel like you belonged. You stood up and hesitated for a second before making your way to her closet. Shoko had said to take whatever you wanted. You reached for the handle and opened the door wider, revealing rows of neatly hung clothes, each piece more expensive than the last. Designer brands, high-end shoes, and bags lined the shelves. You ran your fingers over a few dresses, feeling the silky fabrics, wondering what it would feel like to slip into something so effortlessly stylish.
As you rifled through the clothes, a small bag caught your eye. It was tucked into the back corner, half-hidden behind some folded sweaters. Your fingers brushed against it, and you pulled it out without thinking. It was a clear plastic bag, filled with small, colorful pills.
Your heart skipped a beat.
This wasn’t just some random bag of aspirin or allergy meds. No, this was something else entirely—something that looked more like a personal stash. You hadn't spent much time around drugs, but you'd seen enough movies and television shows to recognize the familiar shapes.
You quickly shoved the bag back into its hiding spot, your hands trembling slightly. You shouldn’t have snooped. You shouldn’t have looked. But now that you had, you couldn’t unsee it.