• 1- ʏ/ɴ •

FTR- First Time Reader

RR- Re-reader

The room isn't much to look at.

The walls are a dull off-white, slightly chipped at the corners. The floor is scratched up, and the single window is too small to let in enough sunlight. But now that I've decorated my side, it feels a little better.

Considering the rent, though? It's actually not that bad. Super cheap, in other words: perfect.

My bed has sage green sheets, and fairy lights hang above it, casting a warm glow. A couple of framed pictures sit on the cupboard next to my books, and my sketchpad rests on the desk, ready to be used.

I take a step back, admiring my work.

And-wow. I haven't tripped over anything or knocked over my coffee.

Progress.

The other side of the room, though?

Completely empty. A plain bed. A lonely cupboard.

I wonder what she will be like-my roommate. The idea of sharing a space with a stranger makes my stomach twist.

I don't know anything about her. What if we don't get along? What if she stares at me when I'm asleep? What if she sniffs my clothes?

Shudder.

Okay, I totally got ahead of myself with that one.

I'll deal with it when she gets here.

I glance at the clock. Class starts at nine.

I arrived at four in the morning, exhausted and dragging all my stuff behind me.

Turns out, I got the date wrong.

I had thought I was supposed to move in tomorrow. Imagine my shock when I woke up in the middle of the night and thought I should check once.

I walk to the mirror I hung up earlier, my cold coffee in hand. Taking a sip, I fix my hair a little.

Olive green top, muted with light beige shorts, cinched at the waist with a brown leather belt. My matching beige headband sits neatly over my hair. My school bag? Worn brown leather. My boots? The same deep brown, scuffed at the edges. My hair? Chestnut brown, soft waves falling past my shoulders.

Now, guess my favorite colour?

That's right- brown.

I love brown.

I stare at my reflection, tilting my head slightly. Hazel eyes, warm but restless, framed by dark lashes. My skin holds a soft tan, smooth except for the small mole just above my cheekbone. A few freckles dust my nose and cheeks, barely noticeable unless someone really pays attention.

I reach for my lipstick, a muted pink, the kind that almost looks like nothing.

I reach for my lipstick, a muted pink, the kind that almost looks like nothing. One swipe, then another. I press my lips together, checking the effect. Subtle. Just enough.

My gaze flickers to the coffee cup sitting on my desk. I pick it up, expecting the comforting weight of liquid, but it's empty.

When did I finish it?

A little sad that I didn't enjoy it, I look at the time and my eyebrows shoot up. How am I about to get late after everything I did?

I turn to the door, hand on the handle, and step out-

Only to crash straight into something solid.

Or rather-someone.

The impact jolts me backward, my shoulder colliding with the doorframe as I scramble for balance. My heart lurches, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a curse.

And then I look up.

Dark eyes. Black as night. Cold. Unreadable.

Everything clicks into place at once, and a slow, sinking dread pools in my stomach.

The empty bed. The bare cupboard.

The way he towers over me, expression unreadable, like he's already decided I'm a problem.

My stomach drops.

I am utterly and completely screwed. Fucked. Thoroughly.

My roommate has the hottest brother ever.

.....

Classes are finally over for the day.

The first one felt like it dragged on forever-lecture after lecture, like the professor was determined to make sure I remembered every tiny detail that I probably won't need to remember. The second class was better.

It definitely helped that Mr. Min looks like a male model.

I totally didn't drool when I saw him. But I removed my gaze right away, I shouldn't be staring at people that way when I don't like people doing it to me.

As I walk through the streets, towards my room my heart stutters. I am reminded of today morning.

That guy. The one with the dark eyes. The one who felt like he was all sharp edges and tension, and who definitely made me feel a little too much when I bumped into him this morning. Mr. Min was nothing a nobody compared to him.

A sudden realization makes guilt seep into my bones. What if the most beautiful man on the planet wasn't my roommate's brother, what if he was... her boyfriend?

If he was her boyfriend, well... then I'd feel all kinds of bad for having those thoughts.

Please, please, let it be her brother, because, honestly? The thoughts I had when I saw him weren't exactly holy.

But even if he was her brother, that still wouldn't make him any less taken.

Oh God, I lusted over a taken man.

Y/N , you're going to hell.

But even if he was her brother, that still wouldn't make him any less taken in some way.

Straight to hell.

I swallow, trying to push the thoughts away of how he looked.

He was-tall. Like, taller than me by a good few inches, and I'm 5'6". He was beautiful, in a way I hadn't even considered a man could be.

His face was striking in a way that made it hard to look away.

His dark hair, messy but somehow perfectly styled, fell over his forehead, framing his sharp, angular jawline. It wasn't just the jawline that stood out

-it was the way his features seemed sculpted, like someone had deliberately perfected each line and curve.

His cheekbones were high, casting just enough shadow to make him look intense, almost too intense.

His eyes-dark, almost black-were the kind that seemed to pierce right through you.

They didn't just look at you; they measured you, like he was figuring you out the moment your eyes met. There was something hard about them, but also captivating, like they could tell stories you weren't really ready to hear.

A faint, barely there scar ran just below his left eyebrow, adding an edge to his otherwise perfect face, like a reminder that even something as flawless as him could have a past.

And his arms-damn. Veins running down his forearms. His muscles weren't over-the-top, wrestler type of bulky, but they were well-defined in that effortless way that made him look strong without trying.

Tattoos covered one hand and extended up his arm, some peeking out from under the sleeve.

Y/N, you're doing it again.

My chest tightens, and I shake my head, trying to clear out the image before it gets any worse.

But by the time I reach the door, I'm still standing there, heart beating faster than usual.

What if he's still here? I stop short. Maybe he's gone already, right? Why would he still be here?

I take a deep breath and turn the handle, bracing myself for whatever's behind it.

It's empty.

I glance over at the other side of the room again, the one that's supposed to be my roommate's space. The bed's still bare, no sheets, no pillow-just an empty mattress. And the boxes? They're stacked haphazardly, one on top of the other, like they're in a rush but somehow still completely untouched.Not even the smallest sign of anything being unpacked.

What the hell?

It doesn't make any sense. My roommate had to have known she was moving in today. Why isn't she here yet?

I shake my head, not wanting to get too tangled in those thoughts. The fact is, it doesn't matter right now. Especially since I only have an hour.That's enough time for a quick nap and no time for thinking unnecessary thoughts.

After an hour, I have my shift at the coffee shop. My old job.

I lie down on my bed, pulling the blanket over me, and let my eyes close, but I can't stop my mind from racing. What's with the empty side of the room?

And the most important question of all-was that guy my roommate's brother or boyfriend?

Or stepfather.

Y/N, stop.