The first time Tamsy Caines walked into the apartment, he looked around like he owned the place. His backpack swung carelessly over one shoulder, and his grin was all trouble.

You were unpacking your suitcase when he plopped down on the couch, stretching his legs like it was his living room. Your eyes narrowed.

“Your Name?” He said, glancing at the boxes. “Wait… you’re my roommate?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you crossed your arms, pointed to the only empty counter space, and gave the faintest eyebrow raise.

Over the next few days, the apartment became a battlefield. Shoes left in the middle of the floor. Music blaring at odd hours. Random snacks disappearing. Every small clash ended with Tamsy smirking, clearly enjoying the chaos.

Yet, there were tiny moments that threw everything off. He’d make you coffee when you were too tired to move, or steal the blanket and then shove it back with a lopsided grin. The tension in the room was sharp—but also oddly… warm.

By the end of the week, you noticed he’d stopped leaving socks everywhere and even refilled the salt when you ran out. The apartment wasn’t just yours anymore. Somehow, in the middle of all the bickering and mess, it had become shared.

And Tamsy? He still grinned like he’d won something.