Chapter Text
You knock on the door obsessively.
It was already past 8:00am and the leasing office should have been open by now, but still no one answered.
Obviously irritated, you knocked harshley on the door once more. You heard no reply or movement within the office and internally groan.
“Well, obviously they are not here...”, you said out loud while admiring your bummy car filled to the brim with your belongings.
While you were annoyed that you couldn't receive the key to your apartment due to the lack of office attendance, you decided to just leave them a voicemail detailing that you are there and ready to receive your key at any point.
You then mindlessly scroll through your phone, hoping to pass the time until someone--literally anyone--arrives at the office to give you your key. You had been up for a few hours now, finishing packing all your things just that morning, allowing you to move-out of your friend Hange’s apartment for good. Hange is someone that you have been friends with from school for almost two years now, and while they are your closest friend, you really couldn't remember how you met in the first place or how you guys got so close so fast--but like most things in life, you rolled with it.
They kindly offered to help you move just this morning, but you politely turned them down, already feeling bad for using their couch and part of their bathroom for nearly 3 months. Financially speaking, this year has been one of the hardest yet for you. Between your two jobs as a receptionist and a sales associate at the local smoke shop--along with your side hustle of cleaning homes, you have kept busy and saved enough money to put down a deposit and first month's rent for your OWN place.
You grimace at the memory of you coming home after a 14 hour day, slumped on the couch absolutely exhausted, when Hange came out with a fully lit “Congrats!” cake in celebration of your leasing application going through. While you joked that the cake was more for Hange’s sake of getting their living room back, you truly appreciated the support your friend gave you, for you are not quite used to people going out of their way to do anything for you, let alone celebrate a small victory such as getting approved for an apartment.
You look up from your phone to see a car has pulled up to the office, slowly and surely a tall and lanky man comes out of the unkept mustang, arms full of papers and a fresh iced coffee from Dunkin, you assumed is the culprit for their tardiness.
The half awake man dropped his phone on the concrete while closing the car door and let out a breathy, “Dammit, fucking hell…” and other colorful language. You can tell the last thing this guy wants to do is be awake at this hour, but you are desperate to finally move into your room so you offer him the sweetest smile in your arsenal and cheerfully state, “Good morning…” fuck why do I sound so annoying, you continue anyways, “I’m “Reader” here to move in to apartment 103…?” you say it as more of a question than a statement.
The tall man looks down at you with a smile--you can tell he's trying his hardest despite his obvious want to go back to bed-- and he responds, “Hi there--yes sorry I was late I really needed coffee in me...” he rubs the back of his head, obviously feeling a little bad about making you wait outside, “I am Jean, the manager of this complex, it's nice to meet you in person,” he reaches out a hand to shake yours, “ Do you mind if I check your portal really quickly just to confirm that we have all your information set to go?” he questions with another smile as he fumbles to open the office door.
“No not at all”, you reply with a soft smile, happy to just get this process over with already.
Jean steps to the back of the office where there is a tinted glass wall separating the one backroom from the rest of the open space. He opens the glass door to the office and gestures politely for you to come in the back with his hands still full of papers and his melting iced coffee. While he gets settled you realize that this Jean character is very similar to your age and you wonder how he landed a gig like property management in the first place. You also realize how he is actually kind of attractive--dare say even your type? Nah, it's probably just the height, with you being so short you like the dominating feel of a tall man around. You blush at your own thoughts and immediately look up to see that Jean had also been staring at you for a minute. Both of you turn red. ou
You both look away from one another, an obvious wave of awkwardness floods the room. You listen to the clacks of the keyboard as Jean logs into his computer while he sucks on the straw of his dunkin coffee--obviously with the full intention of cracking himself up with caffeine.
“Ah, here we go”, he says as you assume he finds your file.
“So I see you're a student at Texas State? Same! What's your major”, he asks politely, trying to deter the tension of the room.
FUUUUcckkkkkkk you think to yourself, you absolutely despise this question--or really anything school related.
You hide your discontent with the questions and answer quickly, you have your answer basically rehearsed at this point, “I am a public administration major, which is basically just political science but more focused on governmental practices and implementation rather than theory”.
Jean looks up from his computer, a soft blush on his face, “Oh wow...so your smart SMART” he says with a grin.
This makes you turn red, as does anything that involves someone complimenting you, “Oh...haha not really I just am interested in what I am learning that's all…”, you trail off.
“Well hey, that's better than anything. I am a nutrition major and absolutely despise it, but hey I only have a year left so I figure I might as well ride it out”, Jean squinted his face while saying this, feeling embarrassed by the fact he hates his major after you just talked highly of your own.
You honestly get it. School is hard to keep up with, let alone staying with a major you decided on at 18 isnt always the easiest, especially since when you were 18 you were probably more high than you were sober. You immediately shudder at the thought of an 18 year old you and carry on the conversation.
“Yeah, I get that, but hey at least it seems you have a solid job”, you retort, obviously trying too be polite but fuck you just want this conversation to be done, and move in already--youre tired of waiting.
“No yeah, it's a decent gig for sure, plus working here allows for a discount on rent” Jean replies, then after another brief awkward silence he hesitantly states, “Well I have all your paperwork but it does look like there may have been an issue regarding your room…”, he has obviously been yelled at by clients in the past by the way his disposition changed.
You try to keep your cool, you're a service industry worker yourself, and you refuse to be an absolute savage to someone just trying to do their job, “Well what seems to be the issue?”, you respectfully ask.
Jean takes note of your patience, and replies, “Well I see that you requested a one bedroom and one bath apartment, but it seems we have none available and that you have been placed in a two-bedroom one bath with one of our tenants in need of a new roommate.”
Oh fuck no, you think to your self, your eyes obvious in anger and frustration, Jeans looks at you pleadingly.
“--On the brightside,” Jean retorts, “...rent will be $540 a month rather than the $650 you were going to pay”, he is obviously trying to make the best of the situation.
You on the other hand are NOT making the best of the situation. There is a reason you requested a one-bedroom and one-bathroom apartment. You have never really had anything of your own--let alone a space of your own that you can comfortably and easily go home to after a long day of work and school. Your mind starts going at a million miles an hour strategizing on what vocabulary you could choose to best change the situation. Jean is obviously panicking behind the keyboard, sucking on the straw of his coffee like an addict does to coke with a dollar bill. Fuck. you think--not now, not now.
“How about this”, Jean starts, “If you move in today to the apartment we have listed on our portal, i will give you this month's rent half off, and will put you on our waitlist for one-bed/one-bath apartments. I apologise for any miscommunication or mistakes on our part.” he finishes his speech with a sideways grin, obviously trying to show that he feels bad and is doing his best to alleviate the situation.
You think for a moment. Thoughts of sharing a bathroom AND living space with a random stranger is not pleasant in any way to you. In fact, you start to sweat a little thinking about the lack of privacy you had while living with Hange, or the absolute fucking disaster that is her one bathroom. You shiver at the thought of it.
On the other hand, you must admit, you are a broke bitch. Between student loans, gas money for work, textbooks, the deposit, food to literally just live, you are constantly feeling the financial pressures of being alive. You sigh as you realize you already know your answer to his proposition.
You sit up straight and look Jean in the eye, “ Okay fine. BUT not only should I get half of rent for this month, but I feel that utilities should be taken care of as well”, you counter.
Jean gives you an agreeable grin, “Sounds like a deal. I would have asked the same honestly”.
At this you smile. You like Jean, he seems like a chill guy that, much like you, is just trying to get by one day at a time. You shake your head and get back to your main goal of the day, and while you would love to stay and chat with your new apartment complex buddy, you really want to unpack as much as you can today. It was the only day you were able to take off from all your jobs and you wanted to take advantage of the time you would have originally spent making money.
“Sweet. Is there anything I need to sign? Or can I just get the key and go?” you ask, purposely obvious with your intention to get along with the show.
“Yup, you're all taken care of. Do you want to hear about your roommate first, or do you want to just meet them for yourself?”, he asks, all the sudden making less eye contact.
You notice his change in disposition when he mentioned your new roommate but honestly, you really dont give a damn. Regardless of who the person is, you're going to have to make adjustments to live with them anyways.
“Nah, I think I’m okay. I’m already raw-doging life as it is, might as well stay consistent” you jester.
Jean laughs at this, a little harder than you think your joke deserved, but hey, maybe you are funny, you think to yourself.
“Oh hey, you’re in unit one, apartment 112 by the way. Mine is the unit across from it, apartment 215 if you need anything.” He quickly relayed the last part of his message without fully looking you in the eye, obviously a little shy about telling you where he lives.
You and Jean say your goodbyes as he offers you the keys to your apartment door, your bedroom and what you assume is the mail key. You thank him for your help, and he gives you his number in case you need anything retaining the apartment. Although part of you feels he may have also given it to you in case you decide to stay REALLY consistent in your venture of “rawdoging life”.You smile at the thought of kissing that tall man, but then clear your mind of those ideas.
You get to the front of your unit and stare at the front door and sign that reads, “Apt: 112”. You wonder if this unit specifically was a show unit, because just by looking at it from the outside, it is way more clean and uniform than the others. The flowers are perfectly separated from one another, as if someone held a ruler to them when planting them. You look at how they frame the two concrete steps that take you to the front door, the smell of fresh mulch lingering.
While you may have been giving off the impression of being, “that bitch”, you start to get a bit nervous thinking about the fact that there will be some random as your new roommate. You just hope they don't pay any mind to your dyed hair, piercings and the fact that you plan on openly smoking weed in the apartment.
Please smoke and be chill, you think to yourself. This makes you frustrated in that this is one of the million reasons you wanted your own space in the beginning, but whatever, it is what it is. Okay let's just rip the bandaid off.
You insert the key in the door and start to turn the key when suddenly you feel a pressure on the other side of the door keeping you from being able to open it, let alone walk inside.
“Umm.. hello? Are you my new roommate, sorry, I’m here to move in”, you state, slightly worried and curious as to why the door refuses to open. You hear a quiet shuffle behind the door, so you back away and let go of the handle. Okay, so it is a person not letting you in. Maybe they're naked or have company over. You try to excuse the weird, gatekeeping behavior of who you assume is your new roomie.
A masculine and seroius voice dispels from the other side of the door “Tch, no solicitors brat, I dont want your girlscout cookies or whatever the fuck you’re selling”.
You frown at this, feeling slightly rejected and disrespected by their words. Not only that, but you also quickly come to the assumption that more than likely it's a dude behind the door. Great, a dude. While you have had guy friends in the past, you have never wanted to actually live with a guy your age. You instantly try to not think about the fact that you will be sharing a bathroom with this guy. Mother fucker.
“Did I stutter?” You reply sharply, the frustration from this morning obviously taking its toll, “I am your new roommate, I have been trying to unpack my shit into some room with four fucking walls and a roof for 2 hours now. I am behind schedule, so let me in.” While you may not be the most confrontational person in the world, your major has taught you through debating and discussion how to argue for yourself, and not raise your voice.
The door remained closed, the person behind the door obviously contemplating what to do, you rolled your eyes and were about to forcefully open the door once more when it all the sudden opened with full force.
He starts, “Listen brat, I don't know--”,
He meets your eye--instantly forgetting what he was to say next. You stare at the man in front of you, taller than you, but just by an inch or so. You recognize the black hair almost too quickly, along with the less than sunny demeanor he gives off. More than anything, you fully remember the grey eyes, staring at yours slightly open with recognition and disbelief.
“Oh fuck...”, you begin, “Levi”.