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I stood in front of the building, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. Today marked the start of a new chapter in my life—my first apartment! After weeks of searching, I had finally found a place that fit my budget and was close to campus. However, I was sharing the space with someone I had never met.
Taking a deep breath, I adjusted my hair and squared my shoulders, mentally preparing myself for whatever lay ahead. I had heard stories about roommate dynamics, from blissful friendships to outright horror shows. But I was determined to stay optimistic. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad.
Pushing the heavy glass door open, I stepped into the lobby. The interior was modern, with sleek furniture and vibrant art adorning the walls. Glancing at my phone, I checked the address one last time. My apartment was on the third floor, and as I walked toward the elevator, I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
When the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, I stepped inside, the smell of fresh paint and new carpet filling my senses. I pressed the button for the third floor, excitement building with each passing moment. Finally, the doors opened, revealing a narrow corridor lined with doors. I stepped out, my gaze landing on apartment 3B at the end of the hall.
As I approached, I could feel my heart pounding louder. I knocked tentatively, the echo of my knuckles against the solid wood ringing in my ears. A few moments passed before I heard shuffling from inside, and then the door swung open.
Standing there was a guy—tall, with spiky dark blue hair and sharp, piercing eyes that seemed to scrutinize my every move. His expression was cold and disinterested, and he leaned casually against the doorframe, radiating an air of annoyance. I instantly felt my nerves intensify.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low and uninterested. “You must be Y/N.”
“Uh, yeah! That’s me.” I smiled brightly, trying to radiate warmth, but his demeanor made it difficult. “I’m your new roommate!”
He looked at me for a moment, his gaze as unyielding as his expression. “Megumi Fushiguro. Nice to meet you.” His tone was flat, devoid of any enthusiasm.
“Nice to meet you too!” I replied, attempting to sound cheerful. I stepped inside, glancing around the small living area. It was modestly furnished, cluttered with books and empty takeout containers. A faint smell of something unidentifiable lingered in the air, but it didn’t deter my excitement.
“Sorry about the mess,” he muttered, glancing around as if I were the one responsible for it. “I didn’t expect you so early.”
“No worries! I’m just glad to finally be here.” I hoped to break the ice. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ll be using the kitchen a lot. I love cooking!”
