Chrispaul3003
I agreed to one week. Just seven days with my roommate's musician friend crashing on my couch. Easy. Chill. Temporary.
What I didn't expect was Michael Clifford-in glitter, ripped jeans, and wielding a flaming toaster like it's part of his morning routine.
He's loud. Messy. A walking fire hazard.
I like rules. Order. Things not covered in glitter.
But between midnight jam sessions, broken appliances, and shared silences under soft guitar chords, the chaos starts to feel... kind of comforting.
He's everything I never planned for.
And somehow, he's exactly what I needed.
One week. One rule-breaking roommate. One slow-burning disaster of a connection.
What could possibly go wrong?