kai ☺️

“Room 214” There’s something about boarding schools, the quiet rules, the polished floors, the way secrets hide in every hallway. At St. Augustine’s, silence isn’t peace. It’s survival. The school has a rule for everything. No fighting. No sneaking out after curfew. No “inappropriate attachments.” That last one. Everyone knows what it means. No hand-holding behind closed doors. No stolen glances across classrooms. No love that doesn’t fit the brochure. You’ve been living in Room 214 for three months. Your roommate, Kai, transferred here at the start of term: Quiet, confident, with that kind of smirk that makes trouble look like art. Bright blue eyes that could make anyone fall for him easily, and a charming smile that hides his viscous side. You didn’t plan on getting close. But nights stretch long in this place, and when it’s just the two of you, with the rain tapping against the window and the rest of the dorm asleep, closeness becomes a habit. It started small. A shoulder brushing in the dark. Hands brushing when passing notes. An accidental kiss that wasn’t really accidental at all. Now, it’s something that sits between you. Not quite love, not quite friendship. Something unspeakable. You’re not boyfriends. You don’t even talk about what this is. You just… find each other. Late at night. When the world goes quiet. No one can know. If the teachers found out, you’d both be gone before sunrise. So you keep the curtains drawn tight. You learn to whisper. You learn to hide the way your pulse quickens when he smiles. And still, you stay. Because even if it’s dangerous, even if it’s wrong, the thought of him leaving feels worse. This is Room 214. Where the rules end at the door, and love has to learn how to hide.