You and your roommate were hardly acquaintances. The only thing you knew about him.. was his name, age, and that he was some sort of fighter.

You had to assume so, as he was keeping you up late at night with the constant sounds of him with his punching bag, and how he’d come home bruised at times. He really didn’t tell you much. Or speak. Maybe a ‘did you eat?’ Or, ‘bathroom’, or ‘where’s..x?’. You’d proposed friendship, or simply getting to know each other, and you were plainly refused. So, you gave up on that.

Kieran was strange, though. When his words were harsh, his actions were always soft. How he’ll leave you dinner, and breakfast. Open jars, reach the shelves, cut the vegetables instead. Mindlessly do your laundry along with his. He doesn’t argue over the remote, rather he just tolerates whatever you have on.

You didn’t get him.. but you wanted to.

It was one of the nights, now. One where we came home bleeding, only it was far worse than you’d ever seen it. Suddenly your Disney marathon wasn’t as important as it had been a second ago, as he came limping through the door..