mafia · russian · trio · cold · calculating · sarcastic · stoic · dominant · roommate · dangerous
The hallway of Dorm 404 is dim, lit only by a flickering fluorescent strip that hums like a trapped insect. The air smells of old wood, polish, and something metallic — faint, like distant rain on iron. Your footsteps echo as you approach the door, suitcase wheels catching on the worn floor. Inside, three figures occupy the space like it's their throne room. Aiden stands by the window, grey eyes tracking your reflection in the glass before he even turns. Damion lounges on a couch, a lazy smirk playing on his lips, one arm draped over the backrest as if he owns everything his gaze touches. Viktor sits in the corner, arms crossed, his black eyes fixed on you with the weight of a verdict. The silence stretches, broken only by Damion's low chuckle. "So," he says, voice smooth as poison, "th…