The shock held Ethan motionless in the doorway of what should have been his sanctuary. He took a hesitant step back and looked outside at the room door.
He checked the number plate, confirming it was indeed his room, 491. It truly was his room, and the key wouldn't have turned the lock if it wasn't. Besides, he could clearly still see his belongings—his bookshelf, his sterile gray cabinets—mixed into the disaster.
But Ethan just did not want to believe that his own private space had devolved into this scene of domestic chaos. The truth hit him with full force : the reason his room look like this is because because he now had a roommate.
He had been using this room alone for a very long time, and the sudden, unannounced presence of a roommate was definitely not a pleasant thing. Worse, it was a roommate who was as messy as this.
He finally moved, walking cautiously into the room as if stepping over a booby trap. He went toward his own bed, the place where he normally collapsed after he had showered after a grueling practice session, only to see his well-arranged bed scattered too, the pristine white sheets rumpled, and unknown clothes—a discarded white t-shirt and some dark athletic pants—thrown carelessly across his duvet.
The sight was intolerable. Ethan refused to sit on the bed. He walked stiffly to his desk, pulled out the chair, and sat down on it, back ramrod straight. He would calmly wait for his new roommate to come back.
On a normal day, Ethan isn't one to not bath immediately after a practice. He hates when he is sweaty and all sticky like this. The feeling of dried sweat on his skin was a personal offense to his sense of order.
But he forced himself to sit down, enduring the discomfort, certain that his unwelcome roommate would surely be back soon. He needed to confront them immediately. He needed to establish the rules, or better yet, arrange their swift departure.
As Ethan had hoped, his wait was short. He heard the metallic sound of a key clicking in the keyhole outside, followed by a brief, questioning pause. The person soon stopped, likely realizing that the door was already open and the key was unnecessary.
Ethan watched the door, his cold gaze fixed, waiting for the person to enter, mentally preparing his opening remarks about cleanliness and boundaries.
But when the door finally swung inward, revealing the figure standing there, Ethan's prepared speech disintegrated. He was shocked—truly, profoundly shocked—when the door opened to reveal Jayden's figure.
Ethan's usually cold eyes widened in surprise and shock.
The sight of Jayden standing in his ruined sanctuary was an insult added to the injury of the scattered clothes.
Ethan wasn't the only one stunned into silence. Jayden was shocked too. He took one look at Ethan sitting stiffly at the desk, took in the familiar surroundings, and then stared back at the captain.
"No hell, no," Jayden burst out, shaking his head vehemently. "You can't be my new roommate."
Ethan's face went even colder, achieving a state of complete, arctic control. He stood up slowly, the sweat suddenly feeling twice as offensive. "Let's go to the housemaster," Ethan said, his voice clipped and precise. "And request a dorm change for you immediately."
Jayden didn't even hesitate. He nodded his head. For that one, brief moment, the two of them were completely on the same page.
They quickly left the room and headed out of the dorm building, moving fast, both desperate to undo this catastrophic error of housing allocation.
They soon found the housemaster in his small office. The man looked up and immediately saw Ethan. He smiled broadly. "Ethan! Have you seen your new roommate yet?"
But as soon as the housemaster finished saying this, Jayden also entered the office, his silver hair still damp from his quick gym shower. The housemaster looked between the two of them, a knowing, slightly amused expression spreading across his face. "Oh, you two are here together," he observed.
"That means you guys want something from me."
Ethan nodded his head sharply and he quickly state his reason for being there,he said to the housemaster. "He wants to change his dorm room," Ethan stated, his tone brooking no argument. "I'm hoping that you can help him with that." After saying that, Ethan gave a brief, dismissive gesture, pointing his finger at Jayden.
The housemaster looked calmly between Ethan and Jayden, his smile not fading but gaining a hint of official regret. "Ohh, but I'm sorry, I can't help you two with that."
Jayden was quick to answer, his voice ringing with disbelief. "Why not? Aren't you the housemaster?"
The housemaster nodded his head patiently. "Yeah, I'm truly the housemaster, in charge of these affairs."
Jayden threw his hands up in frustration. "That means you're the one in charge of allocating dorm rooms and everything! Well, I'm telling you, I definitely can't live with this ice prince here. I will go crazy, I genuinely will." The thought of Ethan's rigid discipline was enough to make his skin crawl.
Ethan heard the title "ice prince" and let out a short, cold snicker. He turned to the housemaster, confirming Jayden's request but adding his own insult. "Yeah, I can't live with him either. He's too dirty and messy. I would prefer living with any other person apart from him."
Jayden became instantly offended at the insult. He glared furiously at Ethan, his eyes flashing. "Are you obsessed with slandering people or something? We've both just discovered that we're going to be roommates. You haven't even lived with me for a day, and you already decided that I'm dirty and messy? You sure talk too much nonsense for an ice prince."
Ethan merely gave Jayden a cold glance.
"I'm not slandering you," he retorted, his voice even. "My room, which has always been organized, looks like it has received an attack from a tornado. Even my bed isn't safe from your wayward clothes, and you want me to believe that you aren't messy?"
The Housemaster just looked back and forth between Jayden and Ethan's escalating argument, a look of distinct entertainment clear in his eyes.