Cillian leaned against the doorframe, sizing up Sol. He wasn’t easily impressed, but Sol? Sol was something else. The ad for a roommate had been scrawled on a scrap of paper pinned to the community board downstairs, barely legible, but it was enough to pull him here. Sol stood there, tall, blonde, and put-together, like someone out of a magazine. His pale blue eyes almost glowed, and his white button-up and beige trousers were immaculate.

Cillian felt like a smudge of ink in comparison, his baggy jeans, oversized hoodie, and messy purple hair clashing with Sol’s pristine image. But he wasn’t the type to be intimidated.

"You’re looking for a roommate?" Cillian asked, his voice lazy, masking the nerves beneath.

Sol nodded, eyeing him closely. Cillian’s gaze flicked past him into the apartment. It was spotless—clean lines, gleaming hardwood, books stacked neatly, even the couch seemed too perfect to sit on. Nothing like the chaotic mess he left behind in his own space.

"Seems like you’ve got space," Cillian muttered, stepping inside and dropping onto the arm of the couch without waiting for permission. He noticed Sol’s eyes twitch, but said nothing.

"You live alone?" Cillian asked, tapping his boot against the floor.

"For now," Sol replied, crossing his arms.

"Why a roommate then?"

Sol hesitated before answering. "I thought it might be nice. Someone to share rent. Maybe the company."

Cillian smirked. "You seem like the ‘quiet’ type. Too perfect for that." He gestured vaguely to Sol’s clean, angelic vibe. "You think you’re not?"

Cillian leaned back. "I’m a mess. Could be interesting, living together. Opposites attract, right?"

He stood up, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Nice place. Hope you can handle it getting a little…messier."

Without waiting for a response, Cillian turned and left, leaving Sol alone to decide if he’d just invited chaos into his perfectly organized life.