The First Night

The first night in Room 402B was nothing short of a war zone.

Emmy wrapped herself tightly in a blanket on the floor, her back turned to Bonnie, who was comfortably spread out on the only bed.

Everything was silent… for exactly five minutes.

Then the air conditioner roared to life.

Emmy immediately shivered.

She sat up sharply. “Did you just turn the AC to 16 degrees?”

Bonnie, who was buried under a thick comforter, mumbled, “Yep.”

Emmy glared. “It’s freezing.”

Bonnie yawned. “Not my problem.”

Emmy stood, grabbed the remote, and turned it up to 24.

Bonnie opened one eye. “Oh? It’s like that?”

She rolled over, snatched the remote, and set it back to 16.

Emmy snatched it again.

Bonnie grabbed it back.

Emmy yanked it away.

Bonnie lunged.

And just like that, they were wrestling over the remote at 1 AM.

Bonnie ended up half on top of Emmy, her hair a mess, both of them breathing hard from the struggle.

A tense pause. Too close. Too warm. Too much.

Emmy, voice deadpan: “Get off me.”

Bonnie grinned. “You could say please.”

Emmy shoved her off the bed.

Bonnie yelped. “You’re cruel.”

Emmy tossed the remote onto her desk. “And now, neither of us get AC.”

Bonnie groaned into her pillow.

The next morning, Emmy woke up feeling colder than usual.

She groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes—only to see Bonnie standing in front of the mirror… wearing her hoodie.

Emmy’s brain took a second to process. Then—

"Ratcha."

Bonnie turned, grinning. “Morning, babe.”

Emmy’s eye twitched. “Did you—” She pointed at Bonnie’s outfit. “That’s mine.”

Bonnie looked down, mock-surprised. “Oh? I thought this was mine.”

“It’s three sizes too big for you.”

Bonnie shrugged. “It’s comfy.”

Emmy stood up. “Take it off.”

Bonnie smirked. “You want me to strip?”

Emmy threw a pillow at her.

Bonnie dodged, laughing.

Emmy inhaled deeply. “We need more rules.”

Bonnie grinned. “Sure. Rule #1: I get to steal your hoodies.”

Emmy groaned.

This was going to be a long semester.

---

By day three, Emmy realized something worse than their constant fights.

Bonnie never cooked.

Not in a lazy way. In a “I will eat instant ramen for six months and call it a diet” way.

That morning, Emmy sat at the tiny dorm table, eating an actual meal, when she noticed Bonnie sneaking glances at her food.

She sighed. “Have you eaten?”

Bonnie froze mid-scroll on her phone. “Huh?”

Emmy gestured at Bonnie’s completely empty side of the table. “Breakfast. Have you had any?”

Bonnie scratched her head. “I was… gonna grab something later.”

Emmy stared at her.

Bonnie stared back.

Then—without a word—Emmy slid her plate forward.

Bonnie blinked. “Wait, you’re actually feeding me?”

Emmy rolled her eyes. “Just eat.”

Bonnie hesitated… then took a bite.

Silence.

Then, in a quiet voice, she mumbled, “Thanks, Thipanan.”

Emmy pretended not to hear it.

Scene 2: "Do We Hate Each Other… Or Nah?"

That night, Emmy sat at her desk, actually trying to study, while Bonnie lay on her bed, tossing a ball in the air.

The silence between them was different.

Less charged. Less sharp.

Finally, Bonnie spoke.

“So.” She caught the ball, turning toward Emmy. “Do we still hate each other?”

Emmy paused. “What?”

Bonnie grinned. “We’ve been roomies for a few days now. Haven’t killed each other yet. Feels kinda like progress.”

Emmy narrowed her eyes. “Give it a week.”

Bonnie smirked. “I’ll take that bet.”

Emmy turned back to her book, trying not to smile.

Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.

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