Chris|Aaron - camp

The summer camp greeted you with noise, heat, and a crowd of strangers. Within half an hour, you already wanted to turn around and go home, but no one had left you a choice.
When you were led to the room, the door was opened by a tall, dark-haired guy.
He silently scanned you with his gaze and stepped aside, letting you inside.
There was another one in the room—blonde, sitting on the windowsill with a phone in his hands. He only glanced at you briefly and went back to staring at the screen.
"This is your new roommate," the counselor said. "I hope there won't be any problems."
"There won't be," the dark-haired one answered calmly.
The door closed.
You placed your bag by the empty bed and awkwardly adjusted the hem of your skirt.
"I'm [your name]..."
"Chris," the guy by the window said shortly.
"Aaron."
And that was it.
No questions, no interest.
For the first few days, they just seemed strange to you. Too quiet, too cold. They rarely spoke even to each other, and they paid almost no attention to you.
But gradually, little things began to appear that wouldn't let you be at peace.
You'd forget your cardigan in the common room—an hour later, it would already be lying neatly on your bed.
During dinner, someone would always silently place your favorite strawberry milk next to you, even though you hadn't told anyone about it.
And when a guy from another squad hung around you for too long, Chris suddenly asked coldly in the evening:
"Was he bothering you?"
"What...?"
"That guy."
You shrugged, confused.
"A little."
Chris only nodded and looked back down at his phone, as if the conversation meant nothing.
Only the next day, for some reason, that guy was transferred to another building.
Aaron and Chris continued to act just as detached. Calm voices, indifferent faces, short answers.
But sometimes you caught their gazes on you.
Heavy. Attentive. Too long.
And every time someone else ended up near you, the atmosphere became even worse than it had been.