Annie
Days on trial: 14
Jungkook was laughing. He had been for almost a full minute now - even despite my pouty protests.
"I should have won, and you know it!" I whined, holding the controller in my lap, sulking at the screen which let me know, in displeasingly large letters, that I had been defeated.
He bore a smile so large that it could have rivalled the sun. I'd partaken in countless jokes with him in the short time that I'd known him, but never before had he seemed so amicable, so comfortable, and it just made way for the most fantastic laughter I had ever had the pleasure to listen to.
"You can't argue with the game, Annie," He shrugged, a shit-eating grin letting me know just how much he was enjoying this.
"Absolutely outrageous," I stropped, refusing to look in his direction, as I knew it would send my straight face into one of joyous laughter too.
We had spent the entire afternoon battling through dark underworlds, hunting for mystical orbs and delving into lore that I'm not even sure he understood. He pretended that he did, of course, though his well-informed facade came crumbling down every single time I asked him to explain it.
"Just shoot the fuckers," and "What kind of a defence was that?!" had been his key catchphrases, letting me know just how poorly I had been doing - but it didn't matter.
The laughter is what mattered.
He was doing something he loved, and that was exactly what my job had been to do today. In my eyes, it was mission accomplished. We were getting closer and closer to his goal - and closer and closer to a happy ending for my report. Winners all round.
"Hold on," he said, pausing the game with an effortless flick of his finger, as a knock bellowed through his front door.
Left alone as he went to see who it was, I took in the room around me.
It was a canvas of exposed brick and industrial materials that Jungkook and his friends had made a home out of. Stolen traffic cones and beer mats 'borrowed' from pubs were scattered around the place like a frat house, yet the bookshelf stored enough novels to open a library - and they actually looked read, too.
I knew that if I could have seen colour, that it would have been a vibrant delight; a treat for the eyes.
He had housemates, two of them, and the doors to their rooms were on either side of the obnoxiously large television that they all shared. Jungkook had had to flick the setting over to Mono for the pair of us, just one of the perils of living with Multis.
To the left of the sofa that I was sat on, a wrought iron staircase spiralled up to a mezzanine floor, which belonged to Jungkook. "It's just a bedroom," he had shrugged when I had told him how cool it was, before he moaned about the lack of privacy - but it did mean he got away with a cheaper rent than the other two, so it wasn't all that bad.
My thoughts assessing Jungkook's interior design choices were interrupted by a female voice that I didn't recognise. She wasn't yelling, but the way in which she projected her voice sent a shiver down my spine.
"Well it isn't my coat, so who the fuck does it belong to?!"
I froze in my seat, heart failing slightly.
So this was Tiff.
I couldn't blame her for an outburst - finding a stranger sat in your boyfriend's living room would probably always raise a few questions. I stood to greet her, as she came storming into my line of vision.
