Roommates With Benefits [BL]

•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•

The first thing I learned about dealing with a stalker? Movies really get it wrong.

You can’t just slap photos on a wall, string red threads between them, circle a suspicious face with a marker, and expect to unveil some crazy guy named Gregory lurking three streets over with an odd collection of binoculars.

Yeah, real life doesn’t work like that.

For the past two days, Damien and I had been going to great lengths, basically everything short of breaking into the campus security office to snag their entire database...though considering Damien’s family connections, he could probably pull that off if he really wanted to.

And going to the police literally meant announcing to the whole world that Damien Lockwood himself was been stalked.

Unfortunately, we were stuck trying to do this the proper way, mostly.

Our dining table looked like a tornado hit, buried under photos, printed emails, notes, half-empty coffee cups, and Damien’s laptop.

It had turned into the shittiest detective headquarters you could imagine.

I was leaning over the table while Damien stood across from me, studying a photo with such a serious look that you’d think we were analyzing classified intel rather than pictures of two idiots caught kissing around campus.

The irony didn’t escape me.

"We do look good in this one though," I remarked, glancing at the photograph.

Damien shot me a look, I gestured toward the picture. "What? We really do."

"We’re investigating the person who took that," he reminded me.

"Yeah, I know."

"Then maybe you shouldn’t be admiring the photo."

"I’m multitasking," I said, and he gave me a look that said he was reconsidering every choice he’d made since meeting me, I just smiled innocently.

"Also, check out my hair," I added, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe I should cut it like this again next time."

"Oliver," he said, suppressing a sigh.

"It was having a good hair day!"

He shook his head and went back to studying the photo.

I leaned in again, examining it, but my amusement quickly faded as I focused on the background.

We’d spent hours scrutinizing every detail around us, trying to uncover some tiny clue we’d overlooked. A reflection in a window. Someone lurking too far behind. A parked car. A familiar building. Anything.

The problem was, the person taking these photos had been way too careful.

"There has to be something," I mumbled.

Damien lowered the picture. "I’ve been looking for clues because my parents told you about all this. I checked the location, I even spoke to someone in security near the south entrance."

I raised my eyebrows. "And?"

"Nothing."

My shoulders slumped. Damien set the photo down and rubbed his jaw, his frustration growing by the minute. He wasn’t used to being in the dark.

Normally, he’s the guy who walks into a room and can read the whole situation while the rest of us are still trying to figure out why we’re there.

This felt different. Someone had been watching us without Damien catching on. And that really bothered him.

"You can’t blame yourself," I said softly.

He looked up at me. "I should’ve noticed."

"Damien," I protested.

"I should have."

"You aren’t a mind reader."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Although," I added, "the brooding look does give off a vibe that maybe you have some supernatural abilities."

His lips twitched. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," I said with a grin.

"I’ve noticed," he replied, and I reached across to take his hand. His fingers intertwined with mine instantly.

"We’ll figure this out," I assured him.

He studied me for a moment before giving a slight nod, "Yes."

I squeezed his hand. "And when we do, I’m going to kick their ass."

"You?"

I flexed my muscles gotten not from the gym, but lifting heavy stuff often at my two jobs. "Yep, me."

"You’re not exactly the fittest person after climbing a few flights of stairs."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Excuse the fuck out of me?!"

"You heard me."

"I work two jobs, ofcourse I’m fit!"

"And complain about both of them."

I narrowed my eyes playfully. "Don’t make me regret saying I love you."

His expression softened at the word, and the tension in his face eased for a moment.

Then he squeezed my hand. "I wouldn’t dream of it, Sunshine."

I looked down, trying to hide how much that moved me. It still felt strange being able to say that.

Not a bad strange, just...new. A few month ago, I’d rather have swallowed a fork than admit I was in love with Damien Lockwood.

Now, I was sitting at a table littered with evidence of our secret stalker, casually threatening violence on his behalf, and tossing the word love into our conversations like it was completely normal.

I must’ve evolved in another creature or something or maybe gone downhill.

Not exactly sure yet.

I focused back on the photographs. "If you were the stalker, where would you hide?"

Damien stared at me. "What?"

"Nothing," I replied.

"You were judging me."

"I was just figuring out if you’re really helping."

"I am!"

"How?"

"I’m providing emotional support!"

"Emotional support comes in many forms," he shot back, shaking his head, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. That was a win in my book.

We carried on for another hour, rechecking locations and comparing dates, cross-referencing timestamps until my eyes felt like they were swimming, but we ultimately reached the same frustrating conclusion we had before.

No clues just sitting there, begging us to notice them.

Whoever was stalking us had mastered the art of staying out of sight.

By the time I left to visit Joey, my brain felt thoroughly fried.

I found Joey in the repaired dorm room, sitting on the floor surrounded by enough clutter to make me question whether the fire had actually taught him anything about being responsible at all.

Apparently not,.he looked up when I walked in, his face lighting up.

"Oliver! What’s up, man?"

"Hey," I replied, smiling.

He jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over a pile of what looked like unread textbooks.

"Thought I’d see if you knew anything," I said.

His expression shifted instantly. "That sounds ominous."

"It’s not," I assured him.

"You said it like you were narrating a crime documentary."

"I may have been watching a few too many detective shows," I admitted.

Joey studied my face. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Define sleeping," I replied evasively.

"That’s not really an answer."

"I’ve been resting my eyes," I said, trying to brush it off.

"Oliver," he pressed.

"Fine. Not much lately, okay?"

He sighed, gesturing toward the bunk bed. "Sit."

I plopped down, joey settled next to me, the mattress sinking under our combined weight.

"So, what’s going on?"

Joey knew everyone and everything, so I figured if there"s was anyone who was also being stalked or was stalked... it’ll help in getting us a bit closer when it came to catching that bitch.

I hesitated before asking, "Have you heard about anyone on campus getting followed or photographed?"

He frowned, shaking his head. "Nope."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing," he confirmed.

I nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Unless you mean like the paparazzi chasing around the Elites at times, then I know dozens of them." Joey examined my face. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," I said, though it felt like a lie.

"You’re doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"The thing where you say you’re fine when you’re most definitely not."

"I have a extra few things going on," I replied.

"Yes, but this one is particularly annoying."

I gave a faint smile. "I’m just handling some extra stuff right now."

Joey didn’t pry, he knew better than that at this point. Instead, he leaned back and regarded me for a moment before saying, "Just take care of yourself, alright?"

I nodded, "I will."

Then his gaze dropped to my neck, he stared. I touched the necklace Damien had given me. "What?"

"Hmm...nothing," he mumbled.

"You were staring at me."

"Not really," he replied, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Is that new?"