The Roommates: Part 4

The dorm room was quiet, eerily so. Only the low hum of the old fan and the occasional shuffle from the hallway filled the silence. Rafael stared at his phone, Jonas' message glowing back at him like a taunt.

"Out late tonight. Don't wait up. Lock the door, I've got my keys."

Attached was a group photo, taken in poor lighting, but clear enough. Jonas was smiling, standing too close to Lars. The guy's arm casually draped behind him. Like it belonged there.

Rafael's jaw tightened. He zoomed in. Again. And again. That smile. That closeness. Jonas looked happy.

But not with him.

The phone landed face down on the desk. He didn't mean to throw it. He just… couldn't look at it anymore.

He stood, pacing the tiny space between their beds like a caged animal. Jonas hadn't done his laundry. The pile sat there in his usual lazy heap by the corner, still warm from the week's wear.

Rafael's breath hitched.

No.

He shouldn't.

But his legs moved anyway, as if guided by something darker than thought. He knelt down, fingers brushing through cotton and denim, breath getting heavier, throat dry.

And there it was.

A pair of briefs, carelessly folded among the mess. Jonas' scent clung to it, faint, but unmistakable. Warm skin, shampoo, sweat from rushed mornings and long nights studying. That scent he memorized every time Jonas walked by, every time they brushed shoulders, every time they slept less than a meter apart.

He brought it to his face.

Inhaled.

A guttural sound broke from his throat, and his knees gave out. He sank onto Jonas' bed, holding that fabric like it was a lifeline. His body trembled, each breath deeper than the last. His heart thudded against his ribs like it wanted to break out.

It wasn't just about lust.

It was possession. Obsession. A desperate claim over someone who didn't even know he was wanted this much. Needed this badly.

His hand gripped tighter.

His breath turned ragged.

And in the middle of that quiet night, the perfect roommate, the composed student, the quiet boy who never said a word, let the storm inside him take over.

Rafael burned.

And Jonas would never know.

Or maybe he would.

Someday.

The room was stifling, air heavy with heat and something primal. Rafael was far gone now, sweat-dampened skin, lips parted, eyes glazed over with hunger that had been starved for far too long.

He didn't hear the soft clink of a key turning in the lock.

Didn't catch the quiet click of the door creaking open.

Jonas stood frozen at the threshold. One foot in, one out, the dim light from the hallway stretching across the floor like a spotlight… and there he saw it.

Rafael. On his bed. Chest heaving. One hand hidden beneath the hem of his shirt, the other gripped tight around----

Jonas blinked, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Then his eyes fell on the piece of fabric clenched in Rafael's fist.

His underwear.

His heart punched through his ribs. Panic kicked in.

He didn't mean to slam the door shut, but his trembling fingers forced it closed with more force than he meant. The lock clicked again behind him.

And Jonas ran.

Down the hall, down the stairs, away from the suffocating pulse pounding in his ears. His face was flushed, his hands shaking as he clutched the railing outside the dorm building, gasping for air like he had just escaped a burning house.

He didn't know what he felt.

Shock. Confusion. A jolt of something else too deep to name.

But most of all, he couldn't erase that image. Rafael's face, lost in ecstasy, moaning out a name he didn't hear… but feared might be his.

Minutes passed before Jonas could collect himself. Before he wiped the heat from his skin, smoothed his hair back, and forced his legs to move again.

Back up the stairs.

Back into the lion's den.

And when he entered the room again, he smiled.

Cool. Casual.

Like he hadn't just witnessed the deepest, most forbidden part of his roommate's desire.

Like he didn't feel it burning under his skin too.

Jonas wakes up before Rafael. He barely slept, the memory of last night burned into his eyelids. He turns just enough to see Rafael's back turned to him, the sheets only half covering him. His breathing is even, almost peaceful.

But Jonas isn't.

He stares, questions screaming in his head, heart thudding like a traitor in his chest. Was it really his underwear? Was Rafael really thinking of him? Was that, was that all for him?

But he says nothing.

He acts normal. Packs his things. Brushes his teeth. Even hums a little tune as if his world hasn't tilted on its axis.

And when Rafael stirs, stretching with a low grunt, Jonas smiles and says, "Morning."

And Rafael… freezes.

Because he doesn't know.

He doesn't know Jonas saw it.

So he nods, hiding his own panic, afraid to meet Jonas's eyes. "Hey… yeah. Morning."

But his voice cracks. Just a little. And Jonas hears it.