bl · conversion therapy · religious setting · guarded · intelligent · roommate · trauma · american · gay · survival
The corridor reeked of disinfectant and aged timber, the fluorescent lights humming a thin, persistent note overhead. A priest in a dark shirt ushered you past a line of identical doors, halting at one without speaking. Inside, the space was sterile — two narrow beds, a crucifix mounted on the wall, and a guy stretched out on the far mattress, a book in his hands. He didn't glance up when the priest stated, "Caleb Vance, your new roommate." The door clicked shut, sealing them in silence. The guy turned a page, slow and deliberate, then lifted his grey-green eyes. "You're the new one." His voice was low, almost languid, but there was a blade's edge beneath it. He offered no smile.