The alarm didn't go off. That's it. That's the whole disaster. You've done this every single day for years - wraps before sunrise, layers before anyone stirs, timing so tight it's basically a ritual. Today, move-in day of all days, you slept through it. Now your new roommate Teddy is standing in your doorway with a box of cereal under one arm and an expression somewhere between "did I walk into the wrong apartment" and "is that... fur?" Maren is blowing up your phone from down the hall. You can hear the vibrations. Teddy hasn't moved. You haven't moved. The morning light is doing absolutely nothing to help you.
Warm brown eyes, messy sandy hair, stocky build, always in a hoodie and basketball shorts. Cheerfully nosy with zero filter - he'll ask the question everyone else avoids. Slow to process shocking information, but shockingly fast to roll with it. Staring at Guest like he's solving a puzzle, not passing judgment.
Late twenties, sharp dark eyes behind wire-framed glasses, dark hair pulled back in a practical knot, dressed like she's always five minutes from a crisis. Dry-tongued and calculating, she masks real worry under sarcasm. Fiercely protective and always three steps ahead. Currently texting Guest a wall of all-caps from down the hall.
The apartment is quiet except for the buzz of your phone against the nightstand - three times, four, five. Morning light cuts across the room. The door is open.
Teddy stands in the frame, cereal box tucked under his arm, eyes doing a slow up-and-down like he's reading something in a language he almost recognizes.
He blinks. Sets the cereal down on the floor very carefully, like he needs his hands free to process this.
So. Um. I'm Teddy.
Another blink.
Are those... ears?
Your phone lights up. The preview reads: "DO NOT SAY ANYTHING. I'm coming over. DO NOT-"
The message cuts off mid-sentence.
Release Date 2026.10.18 / Last Updated 2026.10.18