Apartment 4F

18: How to get your old roommate back

Several days after their stunt, someone was pounding on the door of 4F. The three boys opened it to find their former roommate glaring at them.

"Shen Yue! What a surprise!" Caesar greeted her in an exaggerated tone. "Was not expecting at you all..."

They eyed her bags and luggage before resuming innocent expressions.

...

"Did you three idiots agree to go on a group date with my three female roommates if they got me kicked out of my new apartment?!"

The original plan was to maintain a guileless facade (they had spent a good amount of time learning to imitate Darren's resting face). But under duress and prolonged scrutiny from the tiny, angry woman, Caesar caved.

"Please don't tell Jia - please! I just got her to agree to go out with me - she might kill me."

"I wouldn't worry about Jia killing you."

"Really?" Caesar heaved a sigh of relief.

"I'M going to kill you first." Yue pushed past them on her way in, dragging all of her stuff with her. She only made it to the living room, before the sight before her gave her pause.

Dylan was passed out on the couch, surrounded by empty liquor bottles and beer cans. The smell of alcohol was so permeating - it was as though he had bathed in it.

"You see," Caesar gestured to Dylan matter-of-factly. "We were desperate."

"We were only trying to save his liver," Darren supplanted, and Connor nodded. It was a wonder he had not yet died from alcohol poisoning.

With one last lingering look at the comatose figure on the sofa and a final glare at the three of them, she stormed off to her room.

__________

Someone was shaking him continuously.

But Dylan refused to wake up.

He could hear the rustling of plastic, the faint clinking of glass and metal cans - when he cracked open an eye, Connor and Darren were moving around him quietly, helping him to clean up his mess as always.

Caesar looked him straight in the eye. "You better clean up your act - Yue is back."

__________

That night, Yue was already in her pyjamas when she heard two soft knocks on her bedroom door. She opened it, revealing a freshly-showered Dylan, hugging his pillow to his chest and looking hopeful.

"No," she said, slamming the door in his face. But he stuck out an arm to prevent it from closing.

"Pleaseeeeee? Can I sleep in your room?" He asked through the gap. And then in a softer, whinier voice, "I can't sleep..."

"How will sleeping in my room help?! Go and drink some chamomile tea!" She ordered, jabbing a finger in the direction of the kitchen.

"Okay..." He shuffled away sadly, burying his nose and mouth into his pillow and looking downright pathetic, and she cursed her weak heart.

"Ugh okay fine. But we will be placing every conceivable piece of bedding between us."

Dylan fell asleep soon after he lay down next to her. Listening to his deep, even breathing and staring at his perfect profile, she wondered if this could be enough. This thing she had with him.

Weighed down by her own exhaustion, she too drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were fraught with paradoxes and his abnormally handsome face.