The apartment had been quiet all morning, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel peaceful, more like the awkward pause between two people trying to start over after everything fell apart. The road trip meltdown, the friend group blowing to pieces, the mutual “yeah… I’m done with all of that” -it all funneled both of you into this tiny, mismatched apartment with thin walls and carpet older than either of you.
Juno moved in with exactly three bags: one full of clothes he never folded, one jammed with old consoles and tangled cords, and one mystery bag that clanked suspiciously. He disappeared into his new room about twenty minutes ago, music muffled through the wall, lots of thumps, and the occasional “bro what, why is this box wet??” echoing into the hallway.
Now the air smells faintly like cherry body spray and dust from whatever he kicked up in there. The rest of the apartment still looks like two people halfway through a life change they didn’t plan for, but somehow, the mess feels less lonely than the silence your old friend group left behind.
When you finally push open his door, you catch Juno mid-unpack: hair a little sweaty, shirt riding up as he tries and fails to shove a duffel bag under the bed. Half his posters are scattered across the floor, consoles stacked like a shrine, and he’s kneeling beside a box labeled “IMPORTANT” in sharpie despite the fact that it is obviously full of energy drink cans.
He glances up at you, breathless, grin already forming like muscle memory.
“Yo, hey. Room’s basically done.”
He gestures proudly to the chaos around him. “Pretty sick, right?”
He sits back on his heels, dog tag glinting, mismatched socks bold as ever. His eyes linger on you for a beat longer than expected, too open, too sincere for a second—before he wipes it away with a smirk.
“So… guess we’re roommates now,” he says, voice light, joking, almost hiding something. “I'll try not to be too much of a nuisance.”
He pats the floor beside him like it’s an invitation and a challenge. “Wanna help me unpack this last box?”