Chapter Text
Nobody knew which pledges survived the initiation. It was Wriothesley’s little way of keeping them on edge—call it tradition, call it payback, but either way, he enjoyed watching them squirm. Besides, it was his senior year. He had every right to have a little fun.
“Alright, let’s count the flags.” Wriothesley shrugged off his jacket, reaching into the inner pocket and pulling out his spoils. “I got two.”
“I only got one… and he gave it to me out of pity,” Aether grumbled, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. His first initiation as a member had wrecked him. How the hell had Wriothesley done this for three years straight?
“At least I didn’t come in last.” Tartaglia smirked, leaning back in his chair. “I got two as well.” He turned his attention to the last two. “Which leaves you both.”
Kaveh crossed his arms, still clearly bitter. “I would’ve had four if someone played by the rules. But I have three—and a bruise on my thigh, thanks to a wannabe mitachurl.”
“Oh, get over it,” Alhaitham sighed, rubbing his temple like he could already feel the migraine forming. “I have three too.”
Tartaglia’s grin widened. “Wait, so you guys are tied?” He leaned in with exaggerated interest. “Does that make you sore losers or sore winners?”
Kaveh huffed. “It makes me ready to take a nap and dream about murdering Alhaitham.”
“I’d rather you not dream about me,” Alhaitham deadpanned.
“None of you are doing anything until Wrio announces who got in,” Aether cut in, tone final.
Wriothesley, who had been flipping through his phone, finally looked up. “Looks like the ‘Arcana’ and both Dragomirs got in.” He glanced at Kaveh. “Guess you won’t have to waste your dreams on plotting Alhaitham’s death after all.”
“Oh you’re fucking kidding me,” Alhaitham facepalmed.
“Fun!” Tartaglia clapped his hands together. “What’s an Arcana?”
“They’re distant relatives of the Dragomirs,” Aether explained, pushing his empty bowl aside. “The second-hands, the backup options, but none-the-less, they’re still considered high-profile politicians.” His brows furrowed slightly as something clicked.
“Wait—” he glanced back at Wriothesley. “Is the Arcana’s name Xiao, by any chance?”
“Looks like it. Why?” Wrio questioned.
“Hm. No reason.”
~~~~~~~~
Move-in day was always chaotic. Existing members had first dibs on the bedrooms, with Wriothesley getting the very first pick, followed by the rest in order of their captures. Naturally, Wriothesley claimed the largest room near the front of the house—complete with an attached bathroom—because, well, of course he did.
To avoid Kaveh’s endless complaints, Alhaitham let him choose next. Without hesitation, Kaveh picked the bedroom on the top floor closest to the terrace, already envisioning slow mornings with fresh air and a cup of coffee in hand.
Alhaitham, on the other hand, went for the furthest room on the ground floor, as far from the inevitable noise as possible. Peace and quiet were guaranteed—and, as an added bonus, he’d be on the opposite side of the house from Kaveh.
Tartaglia snagged the room in the same hallway closest to the living room. He had a simple yet effective strategy—this way, he’d always be the first to claim the TV, and no one could argue about it.
Aether, ever the artist, chose the sunniest room in the house on the top floor. Natural light was a necessity for his pottery, and this spot had just the right warmth to show the true beauty of each piece.
That left 2 rooms on the bottom floor, one opposite Tartaglia’s and one opposite Wriothesleys and one room on the top floor between Kaveh’s and Aether’s. With everyone settled, the only thing left was for the new recruits to arrive—and that was when the real fun would begin.
Unfortunately for Alhaitham, the first to show up was none other than Zhongli Dragomir.
Zhongli stepped inside with the kind of composed grace that made it seem like he owned the place. His suitcase rolled silently across the floor as he scanned the house with a keen eye, as if already deciding where he’d leave his mark.
“I take it the rooms have already been claimed?” he asked, voice smooth as ever.
Alhaitham rolled his eyes. “What gave it away? The unpacked belongings?”
Alhaitham crossed his arms, already annoyed. Typical. Everything with Zhongli had to be done at his own pace, carefully weighed, considered, and spoken about like it was some great philosophical decision.
“The one across from mine is still free,” Tartaglia offered, nodding toward the door. “It’s got decent space and a good view.”
Alhaitham shot him a sharp glance. He should’ve known Tartaglia would help Zhongli settle in—he actually liked him. If anything, he and Wriothesley were probably happy to have him here. They saw him as wise, disciplined, someone they could respect. Alhaitham saw something else entirely.
Zhongli hummed in thought before stepping inside the room, taking a slow look around. It had a large window that overlooked the street, allowing for a clear vantage point. It wasn’t the biggest room, nor the sunniest, but it was strategic.
“This one will do,” he said, setting down his bag. “Being next to the common areas allows me to stay aware of activity in the house. If anything happens, I’ll hear it first.”
“See? This is why I like you,” Tartaglia grinned. “Always thinking ahead.”
Alhaitham resisted the urge to scoff. Of course Zhongli picked the room for some self-imposed responsibility. He acted like he was the house’s silent guardian, always watching, always ready. And above all, always loyal.
That was what irritated Alhaitham most.
Zhongli defended his family no matter what they did. He never spoke out against them, never questioned them, only ever justified their actions. Alhaitham couldn’t stand that kind of blind loyalty. To him, it wasn’t wisdom—it was willful ignorance.
And now, he had to live with it.
“I can help you move in if you want,” Tartaglia offered, leaning casually against the doorframe.
Zhongli turned to him, unbothered. “That won’t be necessary. I can manage on my own.”
Wriothesley smirked, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Don’t you have your own room to unpack?”
“Yes, well, hospitality is the best… uh… something,” Tartaglia waved a hand, grinning ear to ear like he was trying to charm Zhongli through sheer force of will. He was an idiot if he thought for even a second that Zhongli would care about kindness.
“Welcome!” Kaveh approached Zhongli with open arms, clearly expecting a hug.
…Silence.
Zhongli simply stared at him, expression unreadable.
Kaveh cleared his throat, slowly lowering his arms. “That works too! Uh—hope you have fun in your years here.”
Alhaitham was suffering from second-hand embarrassment and had truly seen enough. “Whatever. I’m going to my room. Don’t disturb me until they’re all unpacked.” And with that, he slammed his door shut, locking it for good measure.
Finally. Silence.
He exhaled, turning to face the mess of boxes and suitcases stacked against the walls. Now where to start?
~~~~~~~
“We’ve all been in the news, been the subject of fuck too many rumors, and dragged into more scandals than I can count.” Wriothesley leaned back against the bar, lazily pouring three large shots of liquor. “So, for your first night as a Delta Collective member, you have to share something about yourself that no one would know. Nothing small, of course—this has to be entertaining.”
He slid the glasses across the counter, the amber liquid catching the dim light. “Unless, you’d rather just get shit-faced instead.”
“Youngest goes first, so I guess that means you, Zhongli.” Tartaglia smirked as he slid the most conveniently underfilled shot toward him.
Zhongli raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Actually—” Aether intercepted, smoothly plucking the glass from in front of Zhongli and setting it down in front of Xiao instead.
“Zhongli’s in his fourth year, and you’re in your first, which makes you the youngest.”
A small, smug grin tugged at Aether’s lips. “So, Xiao… what’s your secret?”
Xiao stared down at his glass, the amber liquid inside catching the dim light. He could feel their eyes on him, waiting. He could walk away, refuse to answer, but that would mean surrendering to the game. And he wasn’t about to do that. So, without looking up, he spoke.
“I don’t dream.”
A beat of silence. Then—
“…Huh?” Kaveh frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t dream?”
Xiao exhaled sharply. “I mean exactly that. I don’t dream. Haven’t in years.”
“That’s—” Aether hesitated.
“It’s nothing that serious” Xiao’s fingers tapped against his glass. “It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. When I sleep, it’s just nothing. No images. No sounds. Just black.”
Tartaglia leaned forward, intrigued. “Not even nightmares?”
“No.” Xiao’s voice was flat, unreadable. “Nothing at all.”
Wriothesley hummed, watching him closely. “Sounds peaceful.”
Xiao let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’d think so.”
Zhongli, silent up until now, finally spoke. “Since when?”
Xiao’s fingers stilled. “It’s been almost a year now.”
Zhongli’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, unreadable. But he didn’t press further.
Tartaglia broke the silence with a grin. “Well, that’s fucking creepy.”
Kaveh shuddered. “Seriously. How do you live like that?”
Xiao just shrugged. “You get used to it. Anyways, Neuvillette’s next,” he slid his undrank shot to him, the amber liquid almost spilling out of the glass.
Neuvillette set the glass down carefully, his expression unreadable. The room fell into a brief silence as everyone waited, expecting something grand, something scandalous. He exhaled softly before finally speaking, his tone measured but carrying an almost imperceptible edge of amusement.
“I have four tattoos,” he said, tilting his glass slightly. “One up my spine, one around my thigh, and one behind my ear.”
There was a pause. Then—
“No way.” Kaveh leaned forward, eyes sparking with interest. “You? With tattoos?”
Xiao raised a brow. “Didn’t peg you for the type.”
Neuvillette merely shrugged, reaching for his glass again. “That’s why it’s a secret.”
Wriothesley chuckled, swirling the liquor in his own glass. “You said four. Where’s the third?”
Neuvillette hesitated for just a fraction of a second—so brief that most wouldn’t catch it. “Well,” he said, “Very few have seen it.”
Tartaglia scoffed. “So you’re just gonna drop that and not elaborate?”
“Precisely.”
Aether groaned, slumping back into his chair. “That’s actually the worst secret ever. Now I have to know.”
“You won’t,” Neuvillette said simply, taking a slow sip of his drink.
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Wriothesley grinned, leaning to lay his head on Tartaglia’s shoulder. “One way or another.”
“It’s Zhongli’s turn now, isn’t it? Do tell Mr. Dragomir,” Alhaitham shifted his attention to Zhongli, tone laced with something just short of mockery—but polite enough for no one to pay it much mind.
Zhongli didn’t reply. With a straight face, he just threw back his drink, the amber liquid disappearing in one smooth motion. The glass hit the counter with a soft clink, and for a moment, no one spoke.
“Oh, come on,” Kaveh groaned. “That’s so boring.”
Tartaglia laughed, leaning forward with an elbow on the table. “That bad, huh?”
Wriothesley smirked, watching him carefully. “Guess that means whatever it is, it’s actually worth hearing.”
Alhaitham, however, was unimpressed. He leaned back, arms crossed. “Or he just doesn’t have the guts to say it.”
Zhongli’s gaze flicked toward him, calm as ever, but there was something heavy behind it.
Zhongli’s gaze met Alhaitham’s—steady, unreadable, but carrying a weight that couldn’t be ignored.
“Or perhaps,” Xiao said smoothly, voice quiet yet firm, “some things are better left unsaid.”
The air in the room shifted. Silence settled, thick and unyielding. It wasn’t hesitation. It was a warning.
Alhaitham held Xiao’s stare for a beat longer before exhaling sharply and looking away. Typical. Xiao had always been Zhongli’s shield, just as he had been since childhood. The two of them had always moved as one, leaving Neuvillette and Alhaitham to form their own alliance in response.
Maybe that was why he could tolerate Neuvillette but had no patience for his cousin.
Tartaglia’s grin was practically mischievous as he shot a glance at Zhongli, clearly enjoying the shift in the conversation. He didn’t allow the tension to linger in the air for too long, as was typical of him.
“Well, well,” he said, his voice laced with teasing, “I feel like Zhongli has to take the other two’s shots as well, since he’s the only one who didn’t share something.”
The rest of the room turned their attention to Zhongli, who, for the first time that evening, looked slightly taken aback. Xiao’s gaze flicked toward him, and for a moment, there was a subtle, almost imperceptible flash of something unreadable in his expression.
“I’m not sure that’s how this works, Tartaglia,” Wriothesley said slowly, his lips curling into a knowing smile. “But I like that twist.”
Aether leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Bottoms up.”
Zhongli, ever composed, met their gazes with calm detachment. “If that is the rule, then I shall abide,” he said, his tone still smooth and measured. He wasn’t one to shy away from anything, and though the atmosphere had shifted, his demeanor remained unchanged.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he reached for the shot glass in front of him, and everyone seemed to hold their breath as he tipped it back with the same quiet grace that marked his every action, followed by the second one.
“Well,” Zhongli said, as if it were a mere afterthought, “that wasn’t so difficult.”
Wriothesley raised his glass, a silent acknowledgment of Zhongli’s participation. “On that note, I think it’s time we all head back to our rooms for the night. Welcome home, you three.”
~~~~~~~
Lawnmowers, Construction, A house party—Kaveh could sleep through them all. It didn’t matter where he was or who he was with, if there was a flat surface big enough to fit him, he could pass right out. As an all-rounder, it was important he had enough sleep and energy for classes, badminton and track. As he walked towards the love of his life, the object of all his desires, his bed, the stench of sweat and booze hit him. He really needed to shower.
~~~
Kaveh stepped out of the bathroom, the warm water still clinging to his skin. He grabbed a towel, wiping down his body in slow, deliberate motions, enjoying the rare moment of peace. As energetic as he was, he rather enjoyed being calm. As his muscles relaxed, he let out a sigh, wishing for nothing more than to crash into bed for a long, long night of hibernation–
CRASH!
His eyes shot wide open. The sound of glass shattering echoed through the room, followed by the sharp clatter of rocks. The broken pieces were everywhere on the floor, on his unopened boxes, even on his precious bed. Kaveh’s heart skipped a beat, and before he could process what was happening, the sound of loud, angry voices reached his ears. He rushed toward the source of the noise, his stomach sinking.
His terrace door. It was broken. Rocks were scattered across his bedroom floor, and there were 3 figures outside, hollering up at his window.
“You think you can just fool us like that and get away with it, Kaveh?! You’ll pay!” one of them yelled.
“You’re going down! Fuck Delta Collective!” another shouted, jumping into the getaway car and driving away.
Who the fuck were these people?! Kaveh was a nice person—well, most of the time. He would never do anything that bad and piss people off this much. And even if it was against him, why are they bringing the rest of the house into it—
And that’s when he recognized them.
The recruits from the intiation. The ones he had fooled to steal their flags and one-up Alhaitham. Is this what he gets for a little strategic play?
It didn’t matter right now anyway—he needed to focus on where to sleep. Even if he managed to clean up all the shards, it was the middle of fall. The nights were getting cold and he had just showered. Not even his thickest duvet would be able to keep him warm with a gaping hole where his terrace door used to be.
With a sigh, Kaveh pulled on a purple hoodie and his thickest sweatpants, stuffing his hands into the pockets as he quietly made his way downstairs. Most of the house had already gone silent, the only sound being the faint creak of the wooden steps beneath his feet. As he reached the bottom, he glanced around, searching for any sign of life.
The hallway was dark. The common areas were empty. Every bedroom door was shut tight, no light slipping through the cracks—except for one.
Alhaitham’s.
Kaveh stopped in his tracks, staring at the faint glow spilling from beneath the door. He exhaled slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. Of course his room was the only one still awake.
His first instinct was to turn away, to drop onto the living room couch and call it a night. But his feet remained rooted in place. As much as he hated to admit it, Alhaitham’s room would be warm. Probably the warmest in the house, knowing how particular he was about keeping things comfortable. It wouldn’t be the worst idea to ask…
Kaveh hovered in front of the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, staring at the glow of light spilling from beneath it.
This was a bad idea. A horrible idea.
He should just turn around, go to the living room, and crash on the couch. Or maybe even his own room. It wasn’t that cold. He’d survived worse, right?
But then another gust of wind howled through the broken terrace door upstairs, and he suppressed a shiver. His room was freezing, and if he didn’t want to wake up with hypothermia, he needed another option. And unfortunately, this was the only one.
Kaveh exhaled sharply, lifting a hesitant hand toward the door. Just knock. Just knock. If he was lucky, Alhaitham wouldn’t bitch that much about it—
Before he could make up his mind, the door swung open. Kaveh froze. Alhaitham stood in the doorway, staring down at him with narrowed eyes, looking unimpressed as ever. He was dressed in grey sweats Kaveh had seen one too many times and messy hair. It wasnt shocking that he slept shirtless but, wow, were his workouts paying off.
They stared at each other for a long, awkward beat.
“…Are you going to explain why you’re standing in front of my door like a lost puppy,” Alhaitham finally asked, voice flat, “or should I just assume that analyzing door frames has become a hobby of yours?”
“I- No need to be such an ass,” Kaveh pouted, “My window’s broken and it’s cold… Can i borrow your bed?”
“Typical of you to break your window on your very first day,” Alhaitham mocked, “I’m hoping you’ll share the story.”
“I didn’t break it! How was I supposed to know that grown men would throw temper tantrums over a simple game of ‘capture the flag’.”
Alhaitham sighed like Kaveh’s mere presence was already giving him a headache. “If my hearing hasn’t diminished because of months of your incessant whining, you fucked over some pledges to one-up me—they retaliated and now I’m supposed to suffer for it?”
“Lending your room for a singular night is hardly suffering,” Kaveh huffed, crossing his arms. “Unless you think I look prettier frozen to death, have some compassion.”
“Kaveh, if you are to takeover my bed, where, pray tell, do you expect me to sleep?”
“Next to me? Don’t worry, I have no intention of smothering you, however tempting that may be. Now can you please let me in? I think there’s a draft in the hallway.”
A pause. Then, a sigh.
“Fine. One night.” He stepped aside, letting Kaveh through. “But if you snore, you’re sleeping on the floor.”
“I don’t snore.” Kaveh brushed past him and walker into the warm room, flopping onto the bed. “How come your bed’s so much nicer than mine! That’s so unfair.”
Alhaitham shut the door with a tired sigh. He already regretted this.
“Where’s your blanket and pillow? You sure as hell aren’t borrowing mine.”
“I don’t need a blanket, your rooms warm enough. But you have four pillows. What could you possibly need them all for?”
Alhaitham pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just grab a cushion from the couch. You’re already imposing, stop being even more of a bother.”
“They’re not as comfy,” Kaveh grabbed the fattest pillow and hugged it, “Are you gonna need a fifth one for emotional support, your majesty?”
“If i hear your grating, annoying, whiny voice one more time, I will lock you out of my room.”
“Understood, princess,” Kaveh giggled.
Alhaitham turned off the light, walking past all of his boxes to his side of the bed. Checking the alarm on his phone, he tucked himself in bed, using all three remaining pillows. Silence settled in the room, save for the occasional creaks of the house.
“…Your bed really is unfairly nice.”
Alhaitham groaned into his pillow. It was going to be a long night.