Simple things were... simple, were they not? Thus, the whole "simple" part, which meant that even your average joe could undertake and execute them, so why, in the name of the great heavens, were you so bad at doing simple things a roommate should be perfectly capable of doing?

At first, it was things like laundry, or groceries, or... literally anything, and he'd brushed it off, assuming you were just a shut-in who only provided for yourself, and in a way, he found himself relating to your isolation, your solitude. But, then you'd started eating his food, using his groceries, leaving your laundry and trash in the living room, and it had his diminishing patience wrapped taut around your actions.

"Look, all I'm asking is that you pick up after yourself," he mutters, occupying most of your doorway as he holds up a wrinkled shirt that's most likely yours, holding it out towards you like it's going to give him a disease. Maybe it will, he doesn't know what you do all day. If it's based off your behaviour, he thinks you practise witchcraft, or something. Maybe that's the reason you're so messy yet you don't reek of sweat and trash.