Polybranches College AU: Take me back, Take me not

Episode 1: Humidity

The hum of the cheap campus mini-fridge was the only sound in Room 314, right up until the moment Coiny slammed his macroeconomics textbook shut with enough force to kick up dust.
It was 2:14 AM on a Tuesday, finals week was looming like a threat, and Coiny was running on nothing but a single iced americano and pure, unadulterated spite. He glared across the taped line that divided their tiny dorm room. On his side, everything was pristine-color-coded highlighters, a neatly made bed, and a stack of clean laundry. On Firey's side, it looked like a small hurricane had hit a clothing thrift store.
And to make matters worse, it was freezing.
Coiny wrapped his blanket tighter around his shoulders, shivering as he stared at the thermostat on the wall. For the last three months, their relationship had been defined by a silent, brutal war over that little plastic box. Firey, who seemingly possessed the internal temperature of a literal furnace, constantly sneaked over to crank the heat up to a suffocating eighty degrees. Coiny, who actually valued breathing, would wait until Firey fell asleep to drag it back down to a crisp sixty-eight. Tonight, however, the campus heating system seemed to be failing entirely.
"If you stare at the wall any harder, you're gonna burn a hole through it," a sleepy, muffled voice muttered from across the room.
Coiny snapped his head around. Firey was tangled up in a mess of orange blankets, only his messy, bright hair visible. He rolled over, blinking sleepily against the harsh light of Coiny's desk lamp.
"I am freezing to death, Firey," Coiny snapped, his voice tight with stress. "The university is actively trying to hypothecate me in my own sleep, and you're over there breathing heavily and taking up all the air."
"That's not a word," Firey mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He wasn't wearing a jacket, just a loose t-shirt, looking completely unfazed by the draft rattling the windowpane. "And it's not even cold. You're just dramatic."
"My fingers are literally numb!" Coiny held up his hands, waving them dramatically. "I have a ten-page paper due at nine AM, my laptop keeps lagging, and I can't think because my brain cells are currently turning into ice cubes."
Firey sighed, a long, dramatic sound, and swung his legs out of bed. Coiny braced himself for an argument, or worse, for Firey to start messing with his desk setup just to irritate him. Instead, Firey walked right past his own messy pile of shoes, grabbed a oversized, ridiculously thick neon-orange hoodie from his closet, and tossed it directly at Coiny's face.
Coiny caught it, blinking in surprise. It was warm, smelling faintly of laundry detergent and whatever cheap cologne Firey wore.
"Put it on and shut up," Firey said, though there was no real venom in his voice. He walked over to the small electric kettle they'd sneaked past the RA at the beginning of the semester, clicking it on. "You've been typing at that keyboard for six hours straight. It's making me crazy."
Coiny hesitated, his pride telling him to throw the hoodie back. But a particularly vicious gust of wind rattled the glass, and his survival instincts won. He pulled the heavy fabric over his head. It was twice his size, the sleeves completely swallowing his hands, but it was incredibly warm.
"Thanks," Coiny mumbled, burying his face into the high collar to hide the sudden, stupid flush creeping up his neck.
"Yeah, whatever." Firey stood by the kettle, waiting for the water to boil. The harsh, fluorescent lighting of the dorm made his hair look brighter than usual, casting long shadows across the room. He looked back over his shoulder, his expression softening just a fraction. "How much of the paper do you have left?"
"Two pages," Coiny groaned, dropping his head onto his desk with a pathetic thud. "But my brain is fried. I keep writing the same sentence over and over again."
Firey walked back over, holding a mug of instant hot chocolate. He didn't set it on the desk; instead, he leaned against the edge of the wood, right on Coiny's side of the tape line, and extended the mug. Coiny reached out, his fingers brushing against Firey's warm hand as he took it. A sudden, strange jolt went up his arm, and he quickly looked down at the dark liquid.
"Drink," Firey commanded gently. "Then you're going to dictate the last two pages to me, and I'm gonna type them for you."
Coiny looked up, completely thrown off. "You? Type an economics paper? Firey, you failed the quiz on supply and demand last week."
"Hey! That was a trick question," Firey defended himself, a familiar spark of competitiveness in his eyes. He snatched a rolling chair from his side of the room, dragging it right next to Coiny's desk. "But I can type fast. And clearly, you need a savior. Consider me your guardian angel."
"More like my annoying shadow," Coiny retorted, but a small, genuine smile slipped through his defenses. He took a sip of the hot chocolate-it was way too sweet, exactly how Firey liked it, but it felt amazing.
"Alright, boss," Firey said, cracking his knuckles with an exaggerated flourish as he pulled Coiny's laptop toward himself. "Tell me about macroeconomics. Make it sound sexy."
Coiny let out a loud, breathless laugh, the heavy weight of his stress suddenly lifting from his shoulders. He leaned back in his chair, pulling the oversized sleeves of Firey's hoodie down over his knees, watching the way Firey's fingers hovered over the keyboard, waiting for his cue.
For the first time all semester, Coiny realized he didn't mind the draft in the room at all. In fact, sitting right next to Firey, he felt completely, perfectly warm.
The next morning, the blinding campus sun pierced through the blinds of Room 314, cutting right across Coiny's face. He blinked awake with a gasp, his mind instantly racing with panic. The paper. Nine AM.
He scrambled to sit up, expecting to find his face mashed against a desk or a keyboard. Instead, he was tangled in his own bedsheets. The clock on his phone read 8:42 AM. Panic spiked in his chest until he noticed a neon-green sticky note stuck directly to his phone screen.
In Firey's messy, chaotic handwriting, it read: Paper is printed and submitted. Wake up, loser, we have eighteen minutes to get you to the lecture hall.
Coiny tossed the blanket aside, throwing his legs over the edge of the mattress. It was only then that he realized he was still wearing Firey's oversized orange hoodie. It swallowed his frame, the sleeves drooping past his knuckles, radiating a lingering, cozy warmth. He didn't have time to overthink the sudden flip in his stomach; he threw on a pair of jeans, grabbed his backpack, and bolted out the door.
He sprinted across the quad, the cool autumn air biting at his face, though the heavy fabric of the hoodie kept his chest completely warm. He skidded into the macroeconomics lecture hall at exactly 8:58 AM.
As he walked down the steps of the tiered seating, his eyes scanned the crowd. Sitting near the back, casually spinning a pen between his fingers, was Firey. He had a completely empty desk in front of him and was chatting with Pen and Eraser. When Coiny walked by, Firey's eyes locked onto him. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face as his gaze lingered on the bright orange hoodie Coiny was sporting.
Coiny quickly sat down three rows ahead, his face burning hotter than a literal flame. He focused entirely on the professor, but his mind was a complete blur.
When the grueling two-hour lecture finally ended, the massive crowd began shuffling out. Coiny packed his notebook slowly, waiting for the aisles to clear. As he stepped out into the hallway, a heavy arm suddenly draped itself over his shoulders, pulling him into a half-hug.
"Nice sweater," Firey chuckled right next to his ear. "Looks better on you than it does on me, honestly."
Coiny tried to shove him off, but his heart wasn't in it. "Shut up. I didn't have time to change. And thank you, by the way. For the paper. And the printing."
"Don't worry about it," Firey said, letting his arm drop but staying close enough that their shoulders brushed as they walked through the crowded student union. "But you owe me. Big time. I literally missed a Discord raid with Gelatin to type out paragraphs about inflation rates."
"Name your price," Coiny sighed, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
"Dinner. Tonight," Firey said instantly, popping the 'p' sound. "There's that new diner down on Main Street. The one with the overly greasy fries. You're buying."
"A diner? Like... a date?" Coiny stopped walking, turning to face him. The hallway was bustling with students rushing past them, but everything else suddenly felt incredibly quiet.
Firey stopped too. For a brief second, his confident smirk wavered, replaced by a nervous, genuine look that Coiny had never seen on him before. Firey rubbed the back of his neck, his bright hair catching the sunlight streaming through the campus windows.
"Yeah," Firey said, his voice dropping a bit softer. "Like a date. If you're down."
Coiny stared at him, looking from Firey's hopeful expression down to the oversized orange cuffs of the hoodie he was still wearing. The fierce rivalry of the freshman semester felt miles away, replaced by something much warmer.
"Yeah," Coiny said, a genuine laugh breaking through his nerves. "I'm down. But you're walking me back to the dorm first. I'm keeping the hoodie."
Firey's grin returned, wide and brilliant. "Deal."
The diner on Main Street was exactly the kind of place college students frequented when they had five dollars to their name and a desperate need for grease. Neon pink and blue lights buzzed against the foggy windows, casting a colorful glow over the cracked vinyl booths.
Coiny sat with his hands wrapped around a thick strawberry milkshake, staring across the table at Firey. True to his word, Coiny was still wearing the oversized orange hoodie. He had tried to take it off back at the dorm, but Firey had simply laughed, told him it looked cute, and locked the door behind them. Now, sitting in the warm light of the diner, Coiny felt a strange, thrilling sense of comfort.
"So," Firey said, breaking the silence as he aggressively dunked a waffle fry into a massive puddle of ketchup. "Did you actually pass the paper? Or did my lack of economics knowledge doom us both?"
"I checked the online portal before we walked over," Coiny said, a smug grin spreading across his face. "We got an A-minus. The professor left a note saying the conclusion was 'highly energetic, if slightly informal.'"
Firey let out a loud, barking laugh, leaning back against the vinyl seat. "Informal? I literally wrote that inflation was 'a total vibe killer.' I'm shocked he didn't fail us on principle."
"I edited that part out while you were in the bathroom," Coiny admitted, taking a sip of his milkshake. "But you did write the entire introduction perfectly. I still don't understand how you're so smart when you spend eighty percent of your day staring at a loading screen on your PlayStation."
"It's a gift," Firey said, winking.
The easy bickering felt familiar, but the underlying tension was completely new. Every time their knees accidentally brushed under the cramped, metallic table, a quiet jolt went through Coiny's chest. They weren't fighting for survival in an object show, and they weren't screaming at each other over the dorm thermostat anymore. They were just two people sitting in a diner, trying to figure out what came next.
When the bill finally arrived, Coiny snatched it up before Firey could even look at it. He slid his student ID and a crumpled twenty-dollar bill across the table to the waitress.
"Look at you, big spender," Firey teased, sliding out of the booth and stretching his arms over his head.
"I pay my debts," Coiny retorted, sliding out after him.
The walk back to campus was quiet, the autumn air crisp and biting. Streetlights illuminated the fallen leaves on the sidewalk, throwing long shadows ahead of them. Without thinking, Coiny tucked his hands deep into the pockets of Firey's hoodie. It was peaceful, until a sudden, loud shout broke the silence of the quad.
"Yo! Is that Firey and Coiny?!"
Coiny froze. Walking toward them from the library was a chaotic group of their neighbors: Pen, Eraser, and Blocky, all carrying matching convenience-store bags filled with energy drinks.
"Wait a minute," Pen said, squinting through the dim light as they got closer. He pointed a finger directly at Coiny's chest. "Is that... Firey's hoodie? The neon one he threatened to kill me over when I tried to borrow it last week?"
"Oh, snap," Eraser chuckled, nudging Blocky with his elbow. "The thermostat war finally claimed a casualty. Coiny actually stole his clothes."
Coiny's face went completely hot. He opened his mouth to stammer out a frantic excuse about the dorm heating system, his mind racing for any logical explanation. But before he could utter a single word, Firey stepped slightly in front of him, casually slinging an arm around Coiny's shoulders.
"Yeah, it's his hoodie now," Firey said, his voice entirely cool and unbothered. He looked down at Coiny, a soft, incredibly proud smile on his face. "Get your own, Pen. This one's taken."
Pen and Eraser exchanged a wide-eyed, stunned look before bursting into loud, supportive cheers. Blocky just shook his head, laughing as he tossed a bag of gummy worms at Firey. "About time, you idiots. You've been screaming at each other through the walls for three months. Glad you finally figured it out."
They shouted a few more jokes over their shoulders as they walked away toward the freshman dorms, leaving the quad quiet once again.
Coiny stood frozen under Firey's arm, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He looked up at Firey, who was still smiling, though a faint hint of pink was finally dusting his own cheeks.
"You're ridiculous," Coiny whispered, though he didn't pull away. Instead, he reached up and wrapped his fingers around the edge of Firey's t-shirt, pulling him a little closer.
"Hey, I told you," Firey murmured, his eyes bright and completely focused on Coiny as they turned the corner toward their building. "I'm your guardian angel. I protect my roommates."
"We are definitely changing the thermostat rules tomorrow," Coiny warned, a breathless laugh escaping his lips.
"We can talk about it," Firey smiled, tightening his grip around Coiny's shoulder as they walked through the lobby doors together. "But only if you keep the hoodie."
The freshman dorm elevator was notoriously slow, creeping up to the third floor with a mechanical groan that filled the silence between them. Inside the small metal box, the reality of what had just happened on the quad settled in. They were official. The entire floor-including Pen, Eraser, and Blocky-now knew it.
Coiny kept his hands buried deep in the front pocket of the orange hoodie, his eyes fixed on the illuminated floor numbers. Beside him, Firey was uncharacteristically quiet, though he hadn't let go of Coiny's shoulder. His thumb traced small, reassuring circles against Coiny's arm, a contrast to his usual high-energy self.
The elevator doors finally slid open with a sharp ding.
As they walked down the brightly lit hallway of the third floor, the heavy wooden door to Room 314 loomed ahead. Coiny fished the room key out of his jeans pocket, his fingers shaking just enough that the metal clicked loudly against the lock. Firey reached over, his warm palm covering Coiny's hand to steady it, and turned the key himself.
The door swung open, revealing the familiar, chaotic space. The tape line down the center of the linoleum floor looked absurd now.
"Well," Coiny said, stepping inside and tossing his backpack onto his perfectly made bed. He turned around, leaning against the mattress. "We survived the quad. And the diner."
Firey closed the door behind them, the click of the lock echoing softly. He didn't immediately walk over to his side of the room. Instead, he stood by the door, looking at Coiny with an expression that was entirely soft, stripped of all his usual cocky armor.
"Are you mad?" Firey asked quietly, crossing his arms. "About what I said to Pen and the guys? I didn't mean to just blur it out like that if you weren't ready."
Coiny blinked, surprised by the sudden wave of vulnerability coming from the campus slacker. He looked down at the neon orange fabric drowning his torso, then back up at Firey's anxious eyes.
"Firey," Coiny said, taking a step across the literal tape line onto Firey's side of the room. "I'm wearing your clothes. We just went on a date. If I was mad, I would have slapped you across the face like it's freshman orientation all over again."
A sudden, brilliant grin broke across Firey's face, the tension evaporating instantly. "Yeah, okay. Fair point."
"But," Coiny added, crossing his arms to mirror him, a playful smirk returning to his lips, "this doesn't mean you win the roommate war. We still have to address the elephant in the room."
Firey raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer until he was standing right on the border of their territories. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
Coiny pointed a finger directly at the small plastic box on the wall. "The thermostat. Sixty-eight degrees. No exceptions."
Firey let out a dramatic, suffering groan, throwing his head back. "Coiny, please! Sixty-eight is practically the ice age! My fingers will literally freeze off. How am I supposed to carry you in Mario Kart if my hands are numb?"
"You can wear a sweater!" Coiny argued, his voice rising with that familiar, energetic spark that kept them both on their toes. "You clearly have a surplus of them! Why do I have to sweat to death just so you can walk around in a t-shirt in November?"
"Because my internal temperature requires ambient warmth!" Firey shot back, stepping entirely onto Coiny's side of the room, a massive, teasing smile stretching across his face. "It's a biological necessity!"
"You're a menace to residential living," Coiny laughed, his breath catching as Firey stopped right in front of him. The gap between them closed entirely, the physical warmth radiating off Firey cutting through the chilly draft of the room.
"Maybe," Firey murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he looked down at Coiny. He reached out, his hands gently grabbing the oversized cuffs of the hoodie, pulling Coiny just an inch closer. "But I'm your menace now."
Coiny's heart did a spectacular flip. The playful bickering melted away, replaced by the quiet, heavy atmosphere of the room. He looked up at Firey, seeing the genuine affection hidden behind the teasing eyes. Without another word of argument, Coiny reached up, grabbed the collar of Firey's t-shirt, and pulled him down into a kiss.
It was warm-almost shockingly so-and completely unhurried. Firey's hands instantly moved from the cuffs to Coiny's waist, holding him steady as the last three months of tension, arguments, and stolen glances finally dissolved into something real.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were slightly breathless. Firey's face was a deep, radiant pink, a brilliant contrast to his bright hair.
"Okay," Firey whispered, a dazed smile on his lips as he rested his forehead against Coiny's. "Sixty-eight degrees. You win."
Coiny let out a soft, victorious laugh, his hands resting against Firey's chest. "I always win, Firey."
"Yeah, yeah, don't push your luck," Firey chuckled, finally letting go of his waist only to grab a roll of blue painter's tape from his desk. He walked over to the center of the room, knelt down, and aggressively ripped the old tape line off the floor, balling it up and tossing it into the trash can.
"What are you doing?" Coiny asked, watching him with a raised eyebrow.
Firey walked back over, grabbing Coiny's hand and pulling him toward his own messy bed. "Redefining the borders. From now on, the whole room is a shared zone."