The morning sun sliced through the thin dorm curtains, painting stripes of gold across Vincent Romano's face. He blinked awake, already grinning. Another day, another masterpiece of barely contained chaos.
Jake's snoring rattled the bunk bed frame like a dying lawnmower. Vincent stretched, cracking his neck, then launched a crumpled energy drink can at his roommate's head. It bounced off Jake's forehead with a satisfying thunk.
"Rise and shine, princess. Your eight AM awaits."
A muffled groan came from the blanket cocoon. "I will end you."
Vincent swung his legs over the edge of the bed, landing with catlike grace. "Promises, promises." He snatched the half-empty coffee cup from last night off his desk, sniffed it, and shrugged before downing the cold dregs. "Ah. Liquid regret. My favorite."
The dorm was a disaster zone - Jake's side looked like a laundry bomb had detonated, while Vincent's was meticulously organized chaos. His desk held three monitors, a mechanical keyboard with custom keycaps, and exactly zero textbooks. A framed photo of the Milan skyline sat beside a switchblade that was absolutely not university-approved.
Vincent grabbed his toothbrush and a fresh shirt, stepping over Jake's abandoned sneakers. "You've got fifteen minutes before Donati locks the lecture hall doors again."
Jake's head emerged from the blankets, hair sticking up in twelve directions. "Why do you even wake up like this?"
"Like what?"
"Like a... like a goddamn morning person who's also a supervillain."
Vincent flashed his most obnoxious grin. "Natural talent."
The communal bathroom smelled like cheap body spray and regret. Vincent brushed his teeth while examining his reflection - dark circles under sharp green eyes, the faint scar along his jawline, the perpetual smirk that drove professors crazy. He splashed water on his face and ran a hand through his messy dark hair. Perfect. Or at least perfectly presentable.
Back in the room, Jake was attempting to find matching socks. "Remind me why we're friends?"
"Because no one else tolerates you," Vincent said, tossing him a pair from the floor. "Also, I fixed your laptop that time you downloaded malware from a porn site."
"That was one time!"
"Three times, actually." Vincent grabbed his leather jacket. "Coming or what?"
The walk to Caffè Speranza took exactly seven minutes. Vincent timed it. He always timed things, though he'd never admit why. The morning air was crisp, the streets still quiet except for the occasional scooter zipping past.
Claudio was already behind the counter when they walked in, his permanent scowl deepening at the sight of them.
"Ah, Claudio!" Vincent spread his arms wide. "Light of my life. Beacon of hope in this cruel world."
"Shut up and order," Claudio grumbled.
"Two espressos, extra existential dread."
Jake groaned. "I hate you."
Claudio slid the tiny cups across the counter. Vincent downed his in one gulp, shuddering at the bitterness. "Christ. Do you brew this with pure spite?"
"Just for you," Claudio deadpanned.
Vincent left an exact tip - always exact, never a cent more or less - and they headed for the computer science building. The campus was waking up now, students shuffling to early classes, professors clutching thermoses like lifelines.
The algorithms lecture hall was half-empty when they arrived. Vincent took his usual seat in the back corner - best sightlines, single exit route. Old habits.
Professor Donati was writing on the whiteboard when Vincent's phone buzzed. Unknown number. He glanced at the screen:
She's not dead. Look at the news.
Vincent's fingers tightened around the phone. Then he laughed, loud enough that Donati turned to glare.
"Problem, Mr. Romano?"
Vincent pocketed the phone with a grin. "Just appreciating your beautiful handwriting, professor."
Donati's eye twitched. The class snickered. Crisis averted.
After lecture, Lena cornered him in the hallway. "You're an asshole."
Vincent pressed a hand to his chest. "I'm wounded."
"You fixed my code in front of everyone."
"And?"
"Now Donati expects that from me all the time!"
Vincent shrugged. "Guess you'll have to keep me around then."
Lena threw her notebook at him. He caught it one-handed without looking.
Lunch was a solitary affair under the chestnut tree in the main courtyard. Vincent preferred it that way - people were exhausting in large doses. He was halfway through his sandwich when a shadow fell across his lap.
Elena Bianchi stood over him, arms crossed. "You're in my spot."
Vincent didn't look up from his phone. "Funny. I don't see your name on it."
"It's implied."
"Ah, so you're that kind of law student." He finally glanced up, taking in her sharp features, the way her dark hair caught the sunlight. "Tell me, do you also argue with vending machines?"
She kicked his shin under the table. Hard.
Vincent's grin widened. "I'll take that as a yes."
Elena dropped into the chair across from him, unpacking her lunch with military precision. "You're insufferable."
"Yet here you are."
"Here I am," she agreed, and somehow that felt like a victory.
The afternoon passed in a blur of lectures and sarcastic commentary. Vincent aced a pop quiz without trying, fixed the department printer when it jammed (earning dirty looks from the admin staff), and somehow found himself agreeing to help Jake with his networking project.
"Because you love me," Jake said, batting his eyelashes.
"Because you'll fail without me," Vincent corrected.
"Same difference."
Dinner was takeout eaten on the dorm floor, surrounded by textbooks they weren't reading. Jake talked about some girl from his art history class while Vincent half-listened, tossing pieces of his spring roll to the stray cat that had started visiting their window.
"You're gonna make it fat," Jake complained.
Vincent scratched behind the cat's ears. "He's perfect."
"You name it yet?"
"Mr. Whiskers."
"That's terrible."
Vincent shrugged. "He likes it."
The cat purred louder, as if in agreement.
Later, when the dorm was quiet and Jake was snoring again, Vincent lay awake staring at the ceiling. The text from earlier burned in his memory. He reached for his phone, hesitated, then pulled his hand back.
Not tonight.
Some ghosts could wait until morning.