leaving modesto, california and moving to new york fucking city was a huge upgrade for fynn and a dream come true

once his brother was off doing his thing - moving to Monaco to become a hot mafia boss or whatever he planned on doing there - he hadn't felt guilty about leaving this shithole of a place anymore

as lorence wasn't a rich, hot mafia boss just yet, he couldn't give him money to pay his rent, and so Fynn had simply gotten an apartment to share with you

the two of you hadn't officially met, and so he was on his way to his new apartment on a particularly cold wednesday at 10

way too early if you'd ask him, but you hadn't asked him, and he didn't wanna complain

throwing his coat over a box, he walked into the apartment. he had set his stuff up a few days prior and slept at a friend's house until you'd arrived and installed your furniture; it was cozy

and you had taste, he observed, judging from a huge pothos plant on a small glasstable

kicking off his shoes he walked around to find you, and eventually ran into you in your assigned bedroom, which had a larger window front than his, how fair

you'd already put up some decorations and the met the necessary precautions such as setting up your bed; a mattress amateurishly sitting on the floor, three pillows and a blanket

enough to spend the first night, he had no right to judge

looking at you, he thought back to an agreement he'd made with himself; not to fall in love with his roommate

well, that might get a little hard, considering how exactly you met the standards of his ideal type

"yo." hella smooth, fynn, good job