Across the Hall: A College Romance

Moving in

Wyatt stood in the middle of his dorm room, arms crossed as he surveyed the sparse layout. His bed was neatly made, with only a single suitcase and a couple of boxes stacked in one corner. The space was simple, just the way he liked it—no clutter, no distractions. His minimalist style was a stark contrast to the chaos he knew was waiting across the hall in Dylan's room.

As if on cue, the door to his room swung open with a creak. Dylan strolled in, his usual grin plastered across his face, his brown hair slightly tousled from the day's activities. Wyatt noticed the faint dusting of dirt on Dylan's jeans—Wyatt didn't want to ask why. Despite his messy tendencies, Dylan had an undeniable energy that Wyatt always found infectious.

"Wyatt, you monk," Dylan teased, glancing around the room. "You know, most people actually bring stuff to college. Ever heard of posters? Or, I don't know, a second chair?"

Wyatt shrugged, smirking. "What can I say? I like to keep things simple. You, on the other hand, could probably open a thrift store with all the junk you've got."

Dylan laughed, leaning against the doorframe. "Hey, I just like to be prepared for anything. You never know when you might need something. Besides, my room's got character. Yours looks like an Ikea model."

Wyatt rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help but smile. "Character, huh? Is that what you call piles of laundry and random shit everywhere?"

"Exactly," Dylan shot back with a wink. "You should see it now—practically an explosion of creativity in there."

Wyatt chuckled, shaking his head. He and Dylan had known each other since freshman year, and despite their differences, they'd become close friends. Dylan's room had always been a mess, a chaotic blend of games, books, clothes, and random trinkets. It was the complete opposite of Wyatt's carefully organized space, but somehow, it worked for him.

"Anyway," Dylan continued, pushing off from the doorframe and stepping into the room, "I figured I'd come by and see how you were doing. Sophomore year, man."

"Yeah, it's crazy to think about," Wyatt said, leaning back against his desk. "Feels like we just got here."

Dylan nodded, a flicker of something serious crossing his face before he grinned again. "But we've got two more years to make some memories. And you know what that means—parties, rowing, and maybe, just maybe, you'll finally meet someone who can keep up with you."

Wyatt snorted. "Right. Because my track record with relationships is so stellar."

Dylan shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Hey, you never know. Maybe this year'll be different. And if not, well, I'm always here to keep you entertained."

Wyatt rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. Dylan had always been the flirtatious type, throwing out compliments and teasing remarks like it was second nature. Wyatt had learned to take it in stride, though sometimes, the way Dylan looked at him—like he was seeing something more—made Wyatt's stomach flip in ways he didn't quite understand.

"Sure, sure," Wyatt said, pushing off the desk and heading toward one of the boxes. "Now, if you're done with the pep talk, you can help me unpack."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "You need help unpacking two boxes?"

"Or you could just stand there and watch," Wyatt shot back, grinning as he opened the first box. "Whatever makes you feel useful."

Dylan laughed and moved to grab a box, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm as they worked. As they unpacked, the familiar banter flowed between them, punctuated by laughter and the occasional friendly jab. But beneath the surface, there was a new undercurrent, something neither of them was quite ready to acknowledge.

For now, though, it was just another move-in day, the start of another year. But Wyatt couldn't shake the feeling that something was different this time—that maybe, just maybe, Dylan's messy room and his minimalist space were about to collide in ways neither of them expected.