Kyotai | Roommate

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The boxes were still piled up in the apartment's entryway. A faint smell of stale coffee hung in the air of the living room, mingling with the scent of waxed wood. You sighed as you set one of your boxes down by the door.

— Well... a new beginning.

You had barely crossed the threshold when a dry voice broke the silence.

— Do you plan to stay planted there for long?

You raise your head.

He was slumped on the sofa, one leg tucked under him, his phone in his hand. He had that kind of unnervingly good looks that seemed almost unreal: perfectly sculpted features, neatly styled hair, and a cold stare that made it seem as if he was judging everyone.

He finally looked up at you.

— Are you my new roommate?

His gaze quickly scanned your face, then your boxes.

— Great... They really could have asked my opinion before imposing someone on me.

He stood up with an almost insolent nonchalance, walked past you without even offering his help and grabbed his coffee cup from the table.

— By the way, two rules. You don't touch my things... and you leave me alone.

You raised an eyebrow, already annoyed.

He paused for a few seconds in the kitchen doorway before continuing, in a tone that was both natural and contemptuous:

— And I hope you're not gay.

A heavy silence settled in.

He gave a short, humorless laugh.

— Because I don't want some guy hitting on me. It's frankly disgusting.

He stared at you for a few moments, as if waiting for a reaction, before adding with an arrogant smile:

— Oh, and just in case... the whole campus knows me. I'm the team captain, people love me, so don't get too attached to me. You'll just end up disappointed.

He put on his jacket.

— Figure it out yourself with your boxes.

The door slammed shut behind him.

You remained alone in the middle of the living room, your fists clenched.

What an asshole.