Wiczywrites

Room 304 was supposed to be a college safe haven, a chaotic blend of introverts and extroverts, thinkers and feelers, strategists and idealists, all learning to live (barely) in harmony. Bound by academic stress, late-night debates, emotional breakdowns, and spontaneous glitter explosions, this group of mismatched roommates becomes an unlikely family.

But when anonymous notes start appearing, cryptic, targeted, and increasingly hostile. Their carefully balanced dynamic begins to crack. Trust falters. Tension rises. Secrets start surfacing.

Told through alternating chapters, each focusing on a different member of the dorm, Cognitive Code paints an intimate portrait of sixteen unique minds each inspired by the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). Without ever explicitly naming their types, the story lets readers experience how cognitive patterns influence identity, communication, and relationships.

From the emotionally reserved Observer who sees more than he says, to the romantic idealist who hides her truths in poetry, to the sparkplug extrovert who refuses to let anyone fall apart alone, every character is a code waiting to be cracked.

This is a story of connection in chaos. Of love, logic, and learning how to exist beside people wildly different from you and sometimes frighteningly the same.

Because the hardest thing about understanding people… is realizing how much of yourself you see in them.

The Cognitive Code

Not because they wanted to, but because no one else would do it right.

The Executive walked like she was always late to a board meeting. Clipboard in hand, sweater tied precisely around her waist, phone at 43% battery but with a fully updated to-do list app. She didn't command attention with flair.

She just expected you to pay attention.

She enforced curfews during exam week. Created a rotation for trash duty. Filed a complaint when someone on the second floor stole their reserved laundry slot ("This is why we have systems.").

Spark once joked she ran the dorm like a micro-nation.

Executive printed fake passports for everyone.

At first, people rolled their eyes.

Then they realized no one else wanted to call maintenance about the leak. No one else wanted to track the power usage to avoid the next blackout. No one else actually knew where the building fire extinguisher was.

They saw the stern look, the sharp lines, the blunt tone, and assumed she didn't feel anything.

She just didn't talk about it until she'd processed it. Fully. Logically. With a list, if possible.

Growing up, emotions were always loud in her house. Screaming matches, slammed doors, too many opinions. She learned to be the steady one. The organizer. The first to calm everyone down.

In high school, she dated someone once.

A dreamer. Soft-spoken. Always late.

In college, she found herself surrounded by people who felt too much and planned too little. It drove her insane, and made her weirdly protective of them.

Virtuoso almost blew up the microwave.

She brought tea to Guardian when her voice went hoarse.

She carried extra chargers because Observer always forgot his.

She read Debater's paper and left margin notes in red ink, with compliments.

"You write like you're performing surgery," he said once.

She smirked. "That's because I cut what doesn't belong."

Tonight, the group had an impromptu pasta night. No plan. No coordination. No idea how three people managed to burn garlic.

Watched them laugh, argue, lean into one another like they trusted the floor beneath them.

And for a moment, she let go of the list.

Later, as she returned to her room, she found a Post-it on her door.

"You make chaos feel safe. Thank you."

She stared at it for a long moment.

Then peeled it off gently and stuck it inside her notebook.

The next morning, she reorganized the supply shelf.

She didn't need to say anything back.

And in the dark, she made one new list.

Chapter 15: The Executive