*This section is largely non-erotic and meant to set up the rest of the story. Stay tuned*

Gabe Whitaker had already unpacked his half of the dorm long before noon. His side looked neat but reflected his nervous nature: bed made too tightly, desk organized with great precision, posters of his favorite video game characters lined up perfectly with each other. The room itself was small and bright. Two narrow beds hugged opposite walls painted several times with pale beige. The air smelled faintly like disinfectants from summer cleanings.

He sat on his bed with his knees slightly drawn towards his chest, scrolling his phone aimlessly, listening to the muffled chaos of the hallway: parents’ voices, rolling suitcases, laughter, doors slamming. He kept adjusting his sleeves, tugging them over his hands. His fluffy dark hair kept falling in his eyes, making him blink and brush it away. Every sound in the hall made his stomach twist with anticipation. Then footsteps approached. Two pairs. And then the door swung open. A tall, broad-shouldered boy stepped in, carrying a huge duffle bag slung across one arm like it weighed nothing. He was handsome in that effortless, sun-touched way: skin lightly tanned, dark-blond hair formed into that “poof” typical of boys his age. His T-shirt clung to a toned chest, and athletic shorts sat loosely on his hips. He glanced around, bright green eyes landing on Gabe.

“Hey! You must be Gabe, right?” His voice was warm and casual: exactly the type of voice Gabe always felt unworthy of. Gabe swallowed and nodded. “Y-yeah. Hi. I…uh…just got here earlier.”

“Looks great in here, man,” Luca said easily, dropping the duffle with a thud. “You’re super organized.” Gabe’s ears heated. He mumbled something like “I guess,” and then Luca stepped aside… so *she* could enter.

The doorway filled with her presence before she even spoke. Corinne Holloway stood tall: easily six feet tall without shoes, and today she wore supportive shoes that added a little more height. She was striking, the kind of woman who made rooms stop moving for a second. Her build was full and curvy, with strong hips and a soft waist balanced by broad shoulders and full breasts. She wasn’t slender. She was substantial, imposing in the way an oak tree is imposing. Her hair was thick, deep auburn, swept up into a loose coil at the nape of her neck, with a few strands escaping around her face in elegant disorder. Her eyes were a warm hazel, sharp but softened by faint laugh lines at the corners. Today she wore dark, fitted jeans and a slate-blue blouse tucked neatly at the waist. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms and delicate bracelets that chimed softly when she moved. She carried herself calmly and with such confidence that you wondered if she ever didn’t know what she was doing. She stepped inside the room smiling, and it felt like the space got smaller.

“Hello there,” she said, voice deep in tone but smooth and warm. “You must be Gabe.” Gabe stood up without realizing he had, suddenly aware of how small he was in comparison to these giants: thin, slight, barely brushing 5’6”, with his shoulders instinctively curling inward. “Hi,” he said, voice too soft. His palms felt sweaty.

Corinne reached out to shake his hand. Unsteady, Gabe’s small hand reached hers. “I’m Corinne. Luca’s mother. It’s lovely to meet you.” Her expression was kind, but her presence was overwhelming in a way Gabe couldn’t define. He was having trouble thinking with her in the room. Corinne scanned the room with the assessing look of someone who noticed everything: the neatly made bed, the nervous fidgeting, the way Gabe kept shifting weight from foot to foot. Her eyes softened further. “Your side looks wonderful,” she said. “Very tidy.”

Gabe’s stomach fluttered at the simple praise. “Thanks. I…I like things a certain way.”

“I can see that,” she said warmly.

Luca hauled boxes in with theatrical sighs. “Mom brought like my entire childhood,” he said dramatically.

“I did nothing of the sort,” Corinne replied, pulling a box cutter from her bag. “You would’ve forgotten every essential item if I didn’t intervene.”

“You packed four sets of sheets!”

“Dorm laundry rooms are disgusting Luca.” Gabe sat back down on his bed, half because he didn’t know how to help, and half because his legs felt unsteady. From his position, he watched the two interact: Luca lifting boxes as if they weighed nothing, Corinne standing beside him, guiding where things should go, occasionally lifting something herself with surprising strength. She pushed Luca’s mini fridge into place with a firm nudge of her hip. She reached up easily to set a stack of storage bins on top of the closet shelf; Gabe realized she could do it without even stretching on tiptoes. Every movement she made was confident, economical, graceful for someone her size. At one point, Luca dropped a box and muttered a curse. “Luca,” she said, gently reproachful. “Sorry,” he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. Gabe felt like he was watching a family dynamic from outside of a window: warm, playful, functional. Foreign.

As Luca unpacked, Corinne turned to Gabe again, lowering herself slightly so she was closer to eye level. “Are you from far away?” she asked.

“About three hours,” Gabe said. “My parents just… dropped me off early.”

Corinne watched him for a beat, her expression shifting into something almost protective. She didn’t pry, didn’t push, but her eyes said she understood more than she let on. “Well,” she said gently, “you’re not alone here.” Something in Gabe tightened and loosened at the same time.

Luca flopped onto the mattress, sprawled like a giant golden retriever. “This is going to be awesome," he announced. “Gabe, we’re gonna have the best year. My mom’s gonna worry constantly…”

“I absolutely will,” Corrine said.

“…and we’re gonna eat garbage late at night and pretend we’re studying.”

Gabe gave a timid smile. “Yeah…maybe.”

Corinne rested a hand briefly on Luca’s shoulder, the gesture affectionate but firm, then turned toward Gabe again. “If you ever need anything,” she said, “please feel free to ask. I’ll be around sometimes, dropping things off for Luca. Or reminding him to use detergent.”

“Mom,” Luca groaned. Gabe nodded shyly.

“Thank you. Really.” Her gaze lingered on him. For a moment, he felt seen.

When she finally stepped back toward the door, the room felt bigger again but emptier too. “I’ll get out of your way so you two can settle in,” she said, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. “It was lovely meeting you, Gabe.”

“You too,” he managed.

Luca grabbed his keys and followed her into the hallway. “Back in a sec,” he called. Gabe sat on his bed, heart pounding, palms still warm from her handshake and his mind buzzing. He didn’t know it yet, but this was the first moment of something that would change everything.

As soon as Luca followed Corinne into the hall, he pulled the door shut behind them. The corridor was cooler than the dorm room, humming faintly with the ventilation system. Students and parents passed by with armloads of blankets and storage bins, but just beyond the foot traffic, Corinne and Luca slipped into a quitter stretch of hallway. Luca exhaled. “Okay, what’d you think?”

Corinne gave him a look; the kind a mother gives her grown child when she knows he already has an opinion he’s trying not to show. She folded her arms loosely. “He’s sweet,” she said. “Very gentle. Very…careful.”

“That’s a nice way of saying he’s anxious,” Luca said with a grin.

She didn’t deny it. Corinne instead glanced toward the door they’d just left, her brows softening with concern. “He’s just nervous. It’s obvious in how he stands. And he watches everything like he’s waiting to see what direction things will turn before he makes a move.”

Luca shrugged. “He said his parents just dropped him off early and left.”

Corrine’s jaw tightened a little. “Mm.”

Luca smirked at her. “Don’t ‘adopt’ him.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” A pause. “…Yet.”

Luca laughed loudly enough that a passing mom gave them a glance. “He’s tiny,”

Luca said. “He’s like…the size of a strong wind.” He held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “You could break him in half like a breadstick.”

“Luca,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “Be kind to him. He might need a friend more than he will admit.”

“I will,” he said. “He seems cool. Just quiet.”

Corinne nodded, brushing a curl behind her ear. “He feels like one of those kids who tries very hard not to be a burden. Watch out for him. Even if he doesn’t ask.” Luca smiled in that bright, boyish way that told her he’d already decided to take that job seriously. They hugged and parted. Luca knocked gently before pushing the door open to his room.

Evening settled in slowly. The hallway noise faded, and Gabe opened the window a crack to let in the cool air. The room was dim except for the desk lamp on Gabe’s side and the soft overhead light on Luca’s. They’d had a little awkward small talk, a few questions about majors, music, the campus. Eventually Luca stretched and clapped his hands together once. “Alright. Night routine time.”

Gabe blinked. “Night routine?”

“Oh yeah,” Luca said casually. “Mom raised me with, like, a full dental checklist. And I still get scolded if I skip it.” He laughed. “She’ll sniff my breath and know if I didn’t floss.” Gabe didn’t know if that was a joke or not. Luca peeled off his T-shirt with the easy carelessness of someone used to locker rooms. He wasn’t overly muscular, just athletic: defined shoulders, a lean torso, faint tan lines. Gabe politely focused elsewhere rather than staring at his new roommate’s bare shoulders. Luca grabbed his electric toothbrush from its travel case and walked toward the shared bathroom sinks at the far end of the room. Over his shoulder, he waved Gabe along. “You can go first if you want. Shower, bathroom, whatever.”

“Oh…um…I’ll shower,” Gabe said quickly, grabbing his towel and pajamas. “I usually do that at night.”

“Cool. Take your time.”

The bathroom was bright, cold, and echoing with white tiles. Gabe set his clothes on a dry corner and stepped into the shower. The hot water hit his back in a heavy, grounding sheet, washing away the sweat and nerves of the day. He pressed his forehead to the cool title for a moment. Everything felt surreal. A new place. A new roommate. A woman like Corinne Holloway knowing his name. Part of him kept replaying images of her: the steady confidence, her warm, deep voice, her maternal build… He didn’t notice at first, but he was rubbing himself. It took a shiver of pleasure and a bead of glistening pre-cum for him to notice. He shook the thoughts of her away, showered quickly, and dried off. He slipped into soft sleep clothes: a plain T-shirt and plaid flannel pants that hung a little loose on his small frame. His stomach tightened with a flicker of anxiety. He hoped Luca wasn’t the type to judge.

When Gabe returned to the room, towel draped around his neck, Luca was at the mirror, shirtless, flossing with intense focus. His hands moved steadily, ensuring the thread slid well along the gingival margin. “Hey,” Luca said in between motions. “Welcome back.” Gabe nodded shyly, folding his towel and placing it on a hook. Luca finished flossing, then pulled a metal tongue scraper from a small container. “You don’t have to watch this,” he joked. “Unless you want a tutorial for the Holloway Standard Routine.”

Gabe sat on his bed. “Your mom’s really… serious about dental care, huh?”

“Oh, insanely,” Luca said. “Mom’s a dentist. She’d make me start over if I missed a spot while brushing. When I got braces at fifteen, she practically supervised me like a hawk.” He opened his mouth and dragged the metal tongue scraper gently across his tongue, rinsing after each pass. “Most moms worry about drinking or grades. Mine worries about plaque…and drinking and grades too, I guess.” Gabe laughed quietly. It was an unexpectedly comforting sight: Luca, tall and confident, doing something so mundane and oddly wholesome at his mother’s command. Finally, Luca filled a cup with mouthwash, swished loudly, spat, then popped a night guard from a small case and fitted it over his teeth. “Done,” he said with a lisp around his dental guard. “You got a routine too?”

“Uh…nothing like that,” Gabe murmured. “Just brushing.”

“No judgement,” Luca said, climbing into bed. “It’s a mom thing.”

Both desk lamps clicked. The room dimmed except for the glow of the hallway light slipping under the door. Gabe slid under his blanket and curled onto his side, facing the wall. Luca rested comfortably on his back, hands behind his head. After a few minutes, Luca spoke softly through the dark. “You seem like a good guy, Gabe.”

Gabe swallowed. “You do too.”

Silence settled again, but in a warm way. Then Luca added, half-drowsy: “My mom liked you.”

Gabe’s heart jumped in his chest. “She…she said that?”

“She didn’t have to.” Luca snorted softly. “I know her face.” Gabe stared at the wall, unable to suppress a tiny, embarrassed smile. Sleep came slowly but gently. Somewhere not too far away, Corinne Holloway flossed her teeth, thinking about the quiet boy with careful eyes and the too neat bed, wondering if he’d be alright on his first night away from home.

By early afternoon on their second day, Gabe and Luca had already fallen into a quiet rhythm together, one that surprised Gabe with how natural it felt. Luca just had a way of filling the space around him, warm and easy, talking as though they’d known each other for longer than 24 hours. Gabe found himself trailing after him toward the campus dining hall, hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie like a nervous kid. The dining hall was loud: clattering trays, scraping chairs, the constant hum of students talking over one another. Luca moved through the crowd with zero hesitation, weaving between tables like he’d already memorized the layout. Gabe followed closely, shoulders slightly hunched, flinching whenever someone brushed past him.

“You good back there?” Luca glanced over his shoulder, grinning. He pushed his dark-blonde hair with a practiced sweep. “You look like you’re walking into a boss fight.”

“It’s just…loud,” Gabe muttered.

"You’ll get used to it. The first week anywhere is always weird.” Luca loaded his tray: pasta, grilled chicken, salad, two cookies. Gabe hesitated over every option. A dull throb in one of his molars had manifested the month before, and he didn’t want to make it worse. He settled on soft foods: mashed potatoes, a banana, soup. He hoped Luca wouldn’t notice. Of course, Luca noticed. When they sat down at a small two-person table, Luca raised an eyebrow. “Dude That is the saddest try I’ve ever seen.”

Gabe shifted. “Not really hungry.”

“You barely ate earlier.”

Gabe looked down, poking the mashed potatoes with his spoon, He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to mention the tooth he had been pretending didn’t hurt since June. He forced himself to take a spoonful of the potatoes. They were warm and soft at least. But even that little bit of pressure along his jaw throbbed: sharp, quick, like someone tapping a nail with a hammer. He flinched. Luca noticed that, too. “Hey…you good?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just…burned my tongue.” Luca studied him for a long moment, too perceptive for Gabe’s comfort. Then he shrugged, though Gabe could tell he didn’t quite buy it.

“You know my mom could beat your tooth’s ass if you needed it,” Luca said lightly, tearing into his chicken. “Just saying.”

Gabe stiffened. “I…I don’t need anything.”

“Kay, okay.” Luca held up his hands in surrender. “No pressure. Promise.” Gabe nodded, though his stomach curled. *He can’t see a real dentist. He can’t go through all that again.* His chest tightened at the memory: white coats, gloved hands pinning him down, the sound of instruments clinking on metal trays. He tried sipping the soup. That hurt too. He sat the spoon down quietly. Luca, mercifully, didn’t push further.

Back in the dorm room, the lights were low, warm, and soft. Luca was sprawled on his bed texting someone. Gabe sat on the edge of his own bed, jaw in his hand, pretending to look at his phone. He could feel the ache pulsing in waves now. Every few minutes, Luca glanced over like he was checking up on him without wanting to make it obvious. “You sure you’re not sick?” Luca asked eventually.

Gabe shook his head. “Just tired.”

“Uh-huh.” Gabe hated how much Luca could read him already.

Around eleven, Luca hopped off his bed and stretched, shirt riding up slightly to expose the toned stomach of someone who casually did sports without having to announce it. He grabbed his toiletry bag. “Bathroom run.” He disappeared into the bathroom. Gabe swallowed and pressed a hand to his cheek. The tooth was firing off little warnings still, like a storm warming up. He paced. Sat down. Got back up. He tried drinking some water; it helped for a moment.

Luca returned a bit later smelling faintly of mint and soap. His hair was damp from the shower; curls darkened at the ends. “All yours,” he said, tossing his bag onto his desk. Gabe took his own things. He showered and brushed quickly, barely touching the aching tooth, hoping Luca wouldn’t notice how fast he returned. But when he walked back into the room, Luca was standing near his desk, placing his night guard into his mouth. He looked up at Gabe, eyes squinting slightly. “That was…fast.”

“I…I don’t take long,” Gabe muttered, climbing into bed. Luca didn’t comment, but Gabe could feel his suspicion filling the room like a quiet fog.