The truth was, the relationship between Elric and his three roommates had always been terrible.
It wasn't something that developed overnight, nor was it the result of some dramatic falling out over a misunderstanding. No—the rot had been there from the very beginning, festering beneath a thin veneer of civility that Elric, in his naivety, had mistaken for genuine friendship.
Back when he first entered University as a freshman, young and hopeful, Elric had actually treated them as his closest friends. He'd approached dorm life with an earnestness that, looking back now, seemed almost embarrassingly sincere.
He was the one who volunteered to clean the dorm every single day, sweeping the floors and wiping down surfaces without complaint. He was the one who fetched water for his roommates whenever their bottles ran empty, trudging up and down the stairs with plastic jugs balanced in both arms. He even signed attendance sheets on their behalf when they skipped class, risking his own academic standing to cover for them.
Back then, Elric truly believed that "dorm brothers" meant family. He'd grown up hearing stories about lifelong friendships forged in university dormitories—bonds that would last through careers, marriages, and old age. He wanted that. He craved it, perhaps, more than he should have.
But sincerity wasn't met with sincerity—it was met with contempt.
From the very beginning, they looked down on him. Every act of kindness was received not with gratitude, but with the casual entitlement of those who believed service was their birthright.
Jacob Short, the loudest of the three, came from a wealthy family. His father owned a large real estate firm rumored to be worth millions—possibly tens of millions, if the whispered conversations Elric had overheard were accurate. Jacob never let anyone forget it either. His clothes were designer brands, his phone was always the latest model, and his watch probably cost more than Elric's entire year's tuition.
Gavin Ross and Ryan Lowe weren't as rich as Jacob, but both were from solid, upper-middle-class backgrounds. Gavin's father was a department head at some government bureau, while Ryan's mother owned a chain of boutique stores across the province. They drove nice cars during holidays and spoke casually about overseas vacations as if international travel was as mundane as taking the bus.
By contrast, Elric came from the countryside. His father had died early—a farming accident when Elric was just twelve years old—and his mother worked two jobs to keep the family afloat. She cleaned office buildings before dawn and worked as a cashier at a supermarket until late evening. Elric survived on scholarships and part-time gigs, tutoring middle school students on weekends and washing dishes at restaurants during breaks.
To them, that made him someone born to serve.
Led by Jacob, the three treated him as a convenient errand boy, someone whose labor could be exploited without consequence or guilt. "We call you 'brother,' isn't that already giving you face?" Jacob had once said with a smirk, lounging on his bed while Elric swept around his scattered clothes. "Don't think you're equal to us."
The words had stung, but Elric had swallowed his pride and continued working.
At first, Elric ignored their subtle contempt. He told himself dorm life was about brotherhood, that these rough patches were just part of learning to live together. Surely, if he kept being kind, kept proving his worth, they would eventually see him as an equal. Surely, sincerity would eventually win out.
He was foolish enough to keep serving them, month after month, semester after semester.
He made their beds when they were too hungover to get up. He bought them breakfast when they slept through their alarms. He lent them money—money he couldn't afford to lend—when they claimed they'd forgotten their wallets.
The repayment never came, of course. And Elric never asked for it back.
Until half a year ago.
That was when everything changed. That was when the mask was finally ripped away, revealing the ugly truth beneath.
That was when Jacob brought his girlfriend, Grace Winters, the campus literary beauty, into the dorm. She was stunning—long dark hair, delicate features, and an air of cultured sophistication that made her stand out even in a university filled with attractive students. She was the president of the literature club, always seen carrying classic novels and writing poetry that was published in the campus magazine.
Jacob deliberately introduced her to Elric, making a show of adding her to Elric's social media contacts, even encouraging Elric to chat with her. "She's interested in you," Jacob had said with a grin that Elric had mistaken for genuine friendliness. "You should talk to her more. Who knows? Maybe something could happen."
Naive and desperate for love—desperate for any human warmth, really—Elric thought he'd met the girl of his dreams. He began pursuing Grace sincerely, mustering up courage he didn't know he possessed. He bought her gifts with money he scraped together from working late-night shifts at a convenience store, going without meals to afford small tokens he hoped would show his feelings.
A bookmark with her favorite quote engraved on it. A collection of poetry by her favorite author. A simple but heartfelt handwritten letter expressing his admiration.
He poured everything he had into those gestures, believing—truly believing—that someone like Grace could see past his shabby clothes and empty wallet to the sincerity beneath.
It wasn't until he presented her with everything he had saved—a modest but meaningful gift wrapped carefully in paper he'd decorated himself—only to see her laughing in Jacob's arms, that the truth hit him like a knife to the gut.
Grace was Jacob's girlfriend all along.
The chats, the teasing words, the lingering glances—they had been orchestrated from the start, just a cruel game to humiliate him. Every message she'd sent had been crafted under Jacob's supervision, every smile calculated to draw him deeper into the trap.
Elric would never forget their eyes that day.
Grace's mocking smile, so different from the gentle expressions she'd shown him before. Jacob's sneer of superiority, his chest puffed out with the satisfaction of someone who'd just won a particularly entertaining bet. The cruel laughter echoing in the room as Gavin and Ryan looked on, doubled over with amusement at the sight of Elric standing there, gift still in hand, realization dawning slowly across his face.
That was the day his dignity was crushed beneath their collective heel, ground into dust for their entertainment.
He had snapped. Something inside Elric's chest cracked audibly—or perhaps that was just his imagination—and suddenly he was moving.
He lunged at Jacob, fists flying with all the pent-up rage and humiliation of months of abuse. His knuckles connected with Jacob's jaw with a satisfying crack, and for one glorious moment, he saw fear flash across that arrogant face.
And what did his other two "brothers" do?
Gavin and Ryan didn't stop the fight. They didn't defend him. They didn't even try to separate the two and calm things down.
No—they joined Jacob without hesitation, beating Elric bloody three-on-one.
By the time it was over, Elric was on the floor, tasting blood, his ribs aching with every breath. Jacob stood over him, breathing hard, his expensive shirt torn and his lip split—but triumphant nonetheless.
"Know your place," Jacob had hissed, spitting blood onto the floor beside Elric's head.
From that day forward, Elric stopped pretending.
To him, they were not brothers. They were not friends. They were not even acquaintances worthy of basic courtesy.
They were enemies.
He moved through the dorm like a ghost, speaking only when absolutely necessary, his eyes cold whenever they crossed paths. He no longer cleaned. He no longer fetched water. He no longer covered for their absences.
The unspoken tension hung heavy in the air for months, but they rarely crossed paths anymore. Elric had rearranged his schedule to avoid them, and they seemed content to pretend he didn't exist.
Now, months later, at the end of the world, those same three dared to message him in their group chat, begging him for food.
Jacob even had the audacity to offer him an "internship opportunity" in his father's company, as if the world hadn't just ended, as if corporate hierarchies still mattered when people were dying of thirst in the streets.
Jacob Short:[@Elric, bro, I know we had some disagreements before, but we're dorm brothers, right? My dad's company is hiring interns for when things get back to normal. I can put in a good word for you. Just share some of your supplies with us and we'll call it even. What do you say?]
Elric almost laughed out loud.
It's doomsday, and you think I'd slave away as an intern for your family company?
His fingers flew across the keyboard. At first, he typed a blunt rejection—something short and harsh that would make his feelings perfectly clear.
But then, a darker idea struck him. His finger hovered over the send button, then deleted the message character by character.
He leaned back in his chair, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he considered the possibilities.
Then his fingers moved again, typing something new.
Elric:[@Jacob Short, sure, I'll give you some supplies. But only if you personally send your girlfriend,, to my place. Let her stay with me as my woman. Then I'll "consider" giving you food.]