Marcus lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the faint hum of the AC unit the only sound in the room. It was late—too late to still be awake—but sleep just wouldn’t come. He shifted onto his side, facing the wall, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Maybe if I just close my eyes… he thought, willing himself to drift off.But then he heard it.A soft, rhythmic sound, barely audible, but unmistakable. Marcus froze. His heartbeat quickened as he realized what it was. Rick. Rick was touching himself.His face flushed hot, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out. But the sound was there, taunting him, pulling him into its rhythm. He could picture it—Rick lying in his bed across the room, hidden under the covers, his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes. Marcus’s breath hitched, and he cursed himself for imagining it. Stop it. Just stop thinking about it.But he couldn’t. The more he tried not to think about it, the more vivid the image became. Rick’s tousled brown hair, his strong jawline clenched in concentration, his chest rising and falling as his breathing grew heavier. Marcus swallowed hard, his own body reacting in ways he didn’t want to admit. Pretend you’re asleep. Just pretend you’re asleep.The sounds grew louder now—Rick’s breath quickening, the soft rustle of sheets as he moved. Marcus felt a jolt of heat rush through him, and he clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. Don’t look. Don’t look. But the temptation was overwhelming. He wanted to turn around, to see if Rick was really doing what he thought he was doing. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.And then, abruptly, it stopped. A sharp inhale, a quiet groan, and then silence. Marcus’s eyes snapped open, wide and unseeing in the darkness. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Oh god. That just happened.He lay there, stiff and unmoving, listening as Rick shifted in his bed, the sound of sheets being rearranged filling the room. A few moments later, Rick’s breathing evened out, soft and steady. He was asleep.Marcus finally let out the breath he’d been holding, his body relaxing slightly. But his mind was still racing. Did that really just happen? Did I really just… He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts away. No. Don’t think about it. Just go to sleep.But sleep didn’t come easily after that.---The next morning, Marcus was already dressed and sitting at his desk by the time Rick stirred awake. He kept his eyes glued to his laptop screen, pretending to be engrossed in something—anything—to avoid looking at him.“Morning,” Rick mumbled groggily, stretching as he sat up in bed. His voice was rough with sleep, and Marcus felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound.“Morning,” Marcus replied quickly, not daring to look up. His cheeks flushed as he remembered last night, and he busied himself with typing nonsense into his laptop.Rick got up, padding across the room to grab a clean shirt from his dresser. Marcus could hear him humming softly to himself, completely unaware of what had happened—or what Marcus had imagined. He has no idea, Marcus thought, a mixture of relief and guilt swirling in his chest.“You’re up early,” Rick commented, pulling the shirt over his head. His voice was casual, friendly, like always.“Yeah,” Marcus said, still not looking at him. “Couldn’t sleep.”Rick paused, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “You okay? You seem… off.”Marcus forced a smile, finally glancing up at Rick. Their eyes met for a split second before Marcus quickly looked away again. “I’m fine. Just tired.”Rick shrugged, not pressing further. “Alright, well, don’t overwork yourself.” He grabbed his backpack and started packing his things for class. “You coming to the dining hall for breakfast?”“Uh…” Marcus hesitated, his mind still stuck on last night. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”As Rick left the room, Marcus let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Get it together, he told himself sternly. It was nothing. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. And as he stared at his laptop screen, trying to focus on anything but the memory of last night, he couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing would ever be the same between them.

Marcus lay awake in bed, listening to Rick touching himself in the next bed over. Marcus struggled to ignore the sounds and his own reactions, but eventually, Rick fell asleep. The next morning, Marcus avoided looking at Rick, pretending to be busy on his laptop, and they both went to the dining hall for breakfast.

Marcus lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the faint hum of the AC unit the only sound in the room. It was late—too late to still be awake—but sleep just wouldn’t come. He shifted onto his side, facing the wall, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Maybe if I just close my eyes… he thought, willing himself to drift off.

But then he heard it.

A soft, rhythmic sound, barely audible, but unmistakable. Marcus froze. His heartbeat quickened as he realized what it was. Rick. Rick was touching himself.

His face flushed hot, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out. But the sound was there, taunting him, pulling him into its rhythm. He could picture it—Rick lying in his bed across the room, hidden under the covers, his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes. Marcus’s breath hitched, and he cursed himself for imagining it. Stop it. Just stop thinking about it.

But he couldn’t. The more he tried not to think about it, the more vivid the image became. Rick’s tousled brown hair, his strong jawline clenched in concentration, his chest rising and falling as his breathing grew heavier. Marcus swallowed hard, his own body reacting in ways he didn’t want to admit. Pretend you’re asleep. Just pretend you’re asleep.

The sounds grew louder now—Rick’s breath quickening, the soft rustle of sheets as he moved. Marcus felt a jolt of heat rush through him, and he clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. Don’t look. Don’t look. But the temptation was overwhelming. He wanted to turn around, to see if Rick was really doing what he thought he was doing. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

And then, abruptly, it stopped. A sharp inhale, a quiet groan, and then silence. Marcus’s eyes snapped open, wide and unseeing in the darkness. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Oh god. That just happened.

He lay there, stiff and unmoving, listening as Rick shifted in his bed, the sound of sheets being rearranged filling the room. A few moments later, Rick’s breathing evened out, soft and steady. He was asleep.

Marcus finally let out the breath he’d been holding, his body relaxing slightly. But his mind was still racing. Did that really just happen? Did I really just… He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts away. No. Don’t think about it. Just go to sleep.

But sleep didn’t come easily after that.

---

The next morning, Marcus was already dressed and sitting at his desk by the time Rick stirred awake. He kept his eyes glued to his laptop screen, pretending to be engrossed in something—anything—to avoid looking at him.

“Morning,” Rick mumbled groggily, stretching as he sat up in bed. His voice was rough with sleep, and Marcus felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound.

“Morning,” Marcus replied quickly, not daring to look up. His cheeks flushed as he remembered last night, and he busied himself with typing nonsense into his laptop.

Rick got up, padding across the room to grab a clean shirt from his dresser. Marcus could hear him humming softly to himself, completely unaware of what had happened—or what Marcus had imagined. He has no idea, Marcus thought, a mixture of relief and guilt swirling in his chest.

“You’re up early,” Rick commented, pulling the shirt over his head. His voice was casual, friendly, like always.

“Yeah,” Marcus said, still not looking at him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Rick paused, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “You okay? You seem… off.”

Marcus forced a smile, finally glancing up at Rick. Their eyes met for a split second before Marcus quickly looked away again. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Rick shrugged, not pressing further. “Alright, well, don’t overwork yourself.” He grabbed his backpack and started packing his things for class. “You coming to the dining hall for breakfast?”

“Uh…” Marcus hesitated, his mind still stuck on last night. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”

As Rick left the room, Marcus let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Get it together, he told himself sternly. It was nothing. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. And as he stared at his laptop screen, trying to focus on anything but the memory of last night, he couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing would ever be the same between them.

Two college roommates, Marcus and Rick, find their usual routine disrupted when late one night Marcus overhears Rick touching himself. The next morning, Marcus struggles to act his usual self, grappling with newfound awareness and unexpected feelings, while Rick remains oblivious to the change.

And they were roommates!

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