Chapter Six: One Step Closer

The first frost of the season arrived on a Monday morning, leaving thin ice laced across the dorm windows like nature's quiet warning. Takara stood by the glass in pajama pants and a hoodie three sizes too big, breath fogging the pane.

"You're going to get sick standing there like that," Kayo said from behind him.

Takara shrugged. "Too late. I'm already love-sick."

Kayo groaned. "If you don't stop, I'm submitting that reassignment form after all."

"See? You do have feelings," Takara grinned. "They're just all versions of annoyed."

Kayo rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

*******

Later that day, the dorms hosted a mandatory floor meeting in the rec room. Chairs had been pushed into a lopsided circle, and the RA, Jin, stood in the middle, clipboard in hand.

"Alright, everyone," Jin began. "It's mid-term season, which means stress levels are high, tempers are short, and ramen is becoming a major food group. So, to keep things from boiling over, we're doing something fun: the Roommate Bonding Challenge."

Takara sat up straighter. "This sounds suspiciously like work."

"It is work," Jin said cheerfully. "But fun work. You and your roommate will each pull a random task from the bowl and complete it together. Bonus points if you actually learn something about each other in the process."

Groans echoed around the room, but Takara was already intrigued. He elbowed Kayo lightly. "This could be interesting."

"I hate everything about this already," Kayo replied.

Their turn came. Takara reached into the bowl and pulled a slip of paper.

He read it aloud. "Cook something together. Take a photo. Eat it without poisoning each other."

Kayo sighed. "I hate this even more now."

*******

The dorm kitchen was barely functional—two burners, a toaster oven, and a fridge with more passive-aggressive post-it notes than actual food. But Takara was undeterred.

"We'll keep it simple," he said, pulling a shopping bag from under the counter. "Rice balls. Maybe omelets if we don't burn the eggs."

Kayo rolled up his sleeves like he was about to perform surgery.

"You've cooked before, right?" Takara asked, rinsing the rice.

"I've boiled water," Kayo deadpanned. "Successfully. Twice."

"Well, you're in good hands, then."

The kitchen filled with quiet noise—water bubbling, the clink of bowls, the occasional hiss of oil. Takara hummed as he shaped the rice in his palms, occasionally sneaking glances at Kayo, who approached cooking like a science project.

"I don't get how your hands are this neat," Takara said, watching him roll an egg into a perfect log. "Are you even human?"

"I'm highly functional," Kayo replied, barely looking up.

"I'm not. I dropped the soy sauce lid in the sink."

They both laughed.

It was surprising how easy it became.

By the time they finished, two neat trays of rice balls and tamagoyaki sat on the counter. Takara snapped a picture—Kayo ducked his head out of frame—and then they sat on the floor to eat.

"It's actually good," Kayo said after his second bite, slightly amazed.

"You sound shocked."

"I am."

Takara grinned. "See? We make a good team."

Kayo looked over at him, expression unreadable.

"…Maybe."

******

Back in their room, the conversation drifted to mid-terms, favorite childhood snacks, and—inevitably—families.

"You don't talk about your dad much," Kayo said suddenly.

Takara stilled.

"He's… gone a lot," he said carefully. "He works overseas. Sends money. Calls on holidays."

"And your mom?" Kayo asked, gentler.

Takara looked at the ceiling.

"She passed. Two years ago. Accident."

A silence hung between them, this one heavier.

"I'm sorry," Kayo said.

Takara offered a small smile. "It's okay. I mean, it sucks. But it's… quieter now. Which is strange. It's why I chose the dorms. I couldn't stand being in that house alone anymore."

Kayo nodded slowly. "Makes sense."

"You?" Takara asked. "You mentioned something before. About your parents."

Kayo hesitated. Then: "My father is a control freak. My mother is a shadow. I'm expected to follow the path they built for me without asking questions. No room for error."

Takara frowned. "That's not living. That's… performance."

Kayo's laugh was soft, bitter. "That's exactly what it is."

For a moment, the dorm room felt like a secret place—suspended in time, tucked away from the world outside. A little broken. A little warm.

"You ever think about just… running away?" Takara asked.

"All the time."

"You should. One day."

"You'd come with me?"

Takara didn't even hesitate. "Absolutely."

Kayo turned his head, eyes meeting his. For a moment, they just looked at each other.

Not roommates. Not rivals.

Just two boys, trying to be seen.

And somehow, being seen by each other made it feel less lonely.

******

The next morning, Takara found another note.

You were right. We do make a good team.

—K.

He folded that one, too. Tucked it into the growing pile in his sketchbook.

Somehow, it felt more precious than anything else he owned.