Roommate Badboy - Wicked Academy

38

The chill of the night air nipped at Jason's skin as he wandered through the quiet, almost deserted streets, his steps instinctively leading him toward the speakeasy.

It had been weeks since he'd last set foot there. There had been a time when these nights had been his sanctuary, his one way to breathe outside the suffocating grip of the academy. Back then, he could just be Jason, the guy who let the world fade into the background.

The old, rusted door creaked as it swung open, and a cloud of warm, smoky air greeted him. The sound of jazz floated through the dimly lit interior, a haze of tobacco smoke hanging low to the ground.

Jason stepped inside, feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen ever so slightly.

It wasn't much, just a dimly lit space filled with mismatched furniture and clinking glasses, where time seemed to move slower, as though the world outside had forgotten this place existed.

Across the room, old acquaintances murmured over half-empty glasses. Some he knew by name, others only by habit, their lives intersecting with his in fleeting moments. A game of cards unfolded at a corner table, laughter cutting through the low hum of conversation.

The bartender, a short man with a thick beard and an easy smile, gave him a nod of recognition as he slid into a corner booth.

He leaned back in the booth, his mind drifting. The warm glow of the room did little to soothe the storm raging inside him. He couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom.

The pipe between his fingers glowing faintly as he took the first draw, letting the burn settle deep in his lungs. The bitter taste of the herbs was familiar, something grounding in the middle of the chaos twisting inside him.

He exhaled deeply, watching the smoke curl and dissolve into the air.

"Didn't think I'd see you back here."

A voice, smooth and knowing. Jason turned his head slightly, recognizing Matthias, a former graduate of Wicked, and an old companion from nights long past. In his early thirties, Matthias was a man with sharp eyes, a sharper tongue, and an uncanny ability to sense when someone carried too much weight on their shoulders.

Jason smirked, inhaling another lungful of smoke before replying. "Just checking if I was still remembered around here."

Matthias leaned casually against the wall next to him, a glass of amber liquid swirling in his hand. "Something's got you restless."

Jason didn't answer right away. He took a slow drag from his pipe, watching the smoke curl lazily into the air before exhaling. "It's like coming back, expecting everything to feel the same," he murmured, pausing as the ember at the tip of his pipe glowed faintly.

"But it's more like slipping into bed with a one-night stand," he let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "Quick, blurry, but gone before you can even ask for a name."

Matthias huffed a quiet laugh, tipping his glass back before setting it down with a soft clink. "You talk like a poet, live like a ghost." He studied Jason for a long moment, eyes sharp despite the lazy way he leaned against the booth. "And you always reappear when trouble's nipping at your heels."

Jason smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Maybe I just missed the ambiance."

Matthias arched a brow, unimpressed. "Yeah? And here I thought you finally went clean." His gaze flicked to the pipe still smoldering between Jason's fingers.

Jason exhaled another slow curl of smoke, watching as it drifted toward the ceiling. "Nah, the academy caught me before I could get that far." He shrugged, a half-smirk tugging at his lips.