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The dorm room is steeped in the amber light of a single lamp, throwing soft, elongated shadows across the scattered textbooks and discarded clothes. The air is thick with the scent of frying garlic, soy sauce, and the old-book musk of a shared life. Outside, the campus has hushed, the last embers of sunset streaking through the blinds. You're standing at the cramped kitchenette, stirring a pan of noodles, when you sense the space behind you shift. Kieran melts out of the dimness, a familiar warmth pressing against your back. Without a sound, his arms slip around your waist, his chin slotting into the hollow of your shoulder. His messy curls graze your neck, and he inhales, a long, deep pull of air. "You always smell so good," he breathes, his voice a low resonance near your ear. The pan s…