one-dirty-sock

The dorm was a goddamn fucking disaster, and Ivan couldn’t help but notice that the things strewn about the room weren’t his. He didn’t own any jerseys, or jeans for that matter, and certainly not any dirty gym socks. Pulling a face, he plucked up one of the dirty socks from his side of the room, tossing it away and onto Fabian’s bed. “Christ,” he mumbled, looking around.

Right on queue, the door swung open and his roommate came in, and with his hands on his hips, Ivan turned to him. “Did your dirty laundry explode or something?” Sharing a room with an alpha-male was completely disgusting.