This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Rooms

If lunch was chaotic, then the dorm assignments were divine punishment for existing.

The scroll unrolled with flair. Too much flair. It screamed for no reason.

"Gods, every year," Ellian muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as the parchment let out a banshee wail. "‘Tis but a list, not a harbinger of doom."

"Speak for yourself," Kiki said, leaning in. "Last year, I got paired with a poltergeist who tried to taxidermy me. Which, you know, was rude."

Mr. Patch, who was possibly three twigs away from snapping, jabbed at the list. "Room assignments. Don’t complain unless you want to be turned into a motivational sock puppet."

Heads leaned in. Voices groaned.

"Oh no," Kiki said first. Her eye sockets widened. "Ira Mavienne... Vess Noire."
"Oh no," Ira echoed, like she was about to request early retirement.
"Oh yes. Roomies~," Vess purred, emerging like a cursed influencer doing a brand reveal, familiars in tow.

"I will move into the swamp," Ira stated flatly.
"I'll monogram your towels," Vess offered.
"You have towels?"
"You don't?" Vess gasped. Somewhere behind her, her cat hissed in disapproval.

First stop: Rommer and Nilo's room.

By some sheer luck, they ended up together. It looked exactly like you’d expect from two boys who definitely did not pack with adult supervision. One side was organized chaos; the other was chaotic organization.

"Behold," Rommer said, gesturing with a flourish, "the lair of questionable life choices."
"I tried to put posters up," Nilo added unhelpfully, pointing to a wall where the posters kept phasing halfway in and out of existence.

"I stepped on the rug repeatedly to assert dominance since it kept trying to bite me," Rommer piped again.
"We also may have a small ooze problem," Nilo continued.
From under the bed came a wet slurp.

"His name is Kevin," Rommer said solemnly. "He likes jazz."
"Someone in this dorm is brewing potion juice in the sink and I know it's Rommer," Kiki called out.
"Wha-hey! That’s just how Kevin smells!" the werewolf barked back.
The pile of ooze gurgled in agreement.

Next was Kiki's room.

One side was a skeleton rave. Literally. Glowing bones were strung up like fairy lights, a coffin was propped open like a fridge, and the smell of spicy incense mixed with- was that glitter glue?

"Welcome to the Bone Zone," Kiki said cheerfully.
Her bed was shaped like a coffin. It had LED lining.
"Is it comfy?" Rommer asked.
"I sleep like the dead," Kiki replied. "Get it? 'Cause-"
"We get it," groaned Vess.

On the opposite side sat Saabti, an upright Egyptian humanoid cat creature, gold rings around her arms, and a gaze that could file taxes and smite a man simultaneously.

She sipped her tea in silence.
"That is Saabti," Kiki whispered loudly. "She has judged me seventeen times today."
"Eighteen," Saabti said.
"She's my mother. Spiritually. Not legally. Yet."
Saabti blinked slowly. "I am her roommate."
"Are you accepting child applications?" Rommer asked.
Saabti blinked slowly again. "Do not leave femurs on the incense burner again."
"That was one time. And it smelled festive." Kiki defended.
"It summoned a bone demon."
"Exactly. Festive."

Ellian’s room was surprisingly minimal gothic arches, a stained-glass nightlight that screamed at dawn, and a perfectly fluffed velvet pillow. There was also a chandelier. Why is there a chandelier? How did it even fit through the door?

"Mine sanctuary," Ellian intoned. "Wherein I commune with the shadows, the whispers of the void, and my roommate who is, regrettably, Kevin."

"Again?" Kiki asked.
"He multiplies."
"He's also eating your desk." Nilo pointed out.
"He hungers."
"Why does your closet smell like incense and litigation?" Rommer sniffed.
"Prithee, cease rifling through mine sacred belongings, thou uncivilized lycanthrope."

Last was Room 313. Ira and Vess' shared domain.

The plaque blinked ominously. The number 3 winked.
"This room reeks of passive malice," Ira muttered.
"Took me hours to hex it just right," Vess chirped.

Inside was visual whiplash.

Ira’s half was... empty. Spare. Clinical. A single gray bed, a desk, a cursed chair, and the overwhelming vibe of someone who refused to emotionally unpack anything. Ever.

Vess's half looked like a goth boutique, and a Victorian séance collided and decided to co-parent. There were velvet curtains, floating candles, a vanity that whispered secrets, and a rug that growled when stepped on.

"Welcome to our coven!" Vess beamed.
"I’m not in a coven," Ira said, setting her one suitcase down with all the hesitation of a person entering a haunted contract.
"You are now. Roommates are basically witches-in-arms."

Ira sat cautiously. Her bed creaked in lowercase.

"The mirror's melting." The werewolf said.
"Your aura is melting it." The witch replied.
"Did that candle just blink?" The skeleton asked.
"She does that. Her name's Blanche." The witch said proudly.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group had wandered to Vess’s side of the room, where the chaos was magnetic. Rommer had found a jar of haunted marbles that whispered fortunes. Ellian was arguing with a bat plushie that bit back. Kiki and Saabti were locked in a silent competition over who could out-glare the closet. Apparently, Saabti got dragged along.

Which left Nilo.

He wandered toward Ira’s side of the room, drawn less by curiosity and more by the weird stillness of it. Compared to the symphonic chaos across the room, it felt like a forgotten museum wing.

He crouched beside her trunk, half-hidden under the bed. “Hey, Ira?” he asked, voice low. “Mind if I take something from this?”

Ira, currently scribbling notes while Vess’s cursed harp softly played something emo in the background, didn’t even look up.

“Sure. Whatever,” she said, flicking her pen. “If it curses you, that’s on you.”
He popped open the lid.

A small, worn figure stitched together with mismatched thread stared back at him. Black yarn hair. Black button eyes. Faint marks along the limbs, like pinpricks. The fabric smelled like lavender and something darker.

“Neat,” Nilo whispered.

He picked it up gently, turning it over in his hands. For a second, just one heartbeat, it felt warm. Like it knew him.

He glanced back.
The others were still absorbed in cursed tea sets and ghostly plant vines.
Nilo slipped the doll into his bag.
No one saw.
Except maybe the candle.
Blanche blinked once.
Then chittered.