❝ CLEANING THE HOUSE IS NOT 'MALEWIFE BEHAVIOUR', IT'S CALLED BEING A RESPONSIBLE ADULT. ❞
━━━ al-haitham's friends scribble his phone number in one of the stalls of the girls' washroom, and he ends up getting a message at 3 am.
[ al-haith...
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1 PM. Two people, their jackets embracing their torsos, one's confused eyes searching for the other among the quiet wooden aisles, a snoring librarian, and nervous hearts thumping with a rhythm akin to the raindrops outside.
"White hair." Y/N whispered to herself, the only clue she received through Al-haitham's number this morning. By Cyno himself.
But she didn't need to have any hints, for the four walls illuminated by the golden glow of lamps were eerily silent, except for the eventual snores of Miss Lisa. No bustling footsteps, no mops of hair blocking her view.
After taking a few more uncertain steps, she managed to find two people, both of whom she knew by face. Purple strands designed like cat ears, with a sharp gaze that eventually softened when it landed on the girl next to her, blue ringlets falling like curtains on either of her cheeks.
Where is Cyno?
Her question was answered almost instantly. On a table away from prying stares, sat a boy with his long ivory locks tied up in a ponytail. His vermillion irises trailed across the pages of a novel in his hands, and a pack of Uno cards rested idly by his side.
Son of Aphrodite. A man who had walked straight out of Greek mythology. Her initial train of musings admired his beauty, and the train that followed after was hugged with relief. She had found him.
A breath escaped her lips.
"Cyno!"
He whipped his head to look for the disembodied voice's source. Y/N smiled, and he knew.
It was her.
"Y/N."
Vortex of subtle discomfort still swirled within their chests, but once they took in each other's appearances, it began chipping away slowly. The two seemed to be quite contrasting— one bright and the other calm. It acted as a medium for the duo to warm up to each other.
While the tranquillity felt relaxing, Y/N knew they wouldn't be able to get past the awkwardness completely if they didn't talk. What fun was a game of Uno with someone you couldn't even openly cuss at?
"You look scared. Don't tell me, the funniest man ever is timid in front of others?"
A tick formed on his forehead, and he put his book down.
"Of strangers. Only."
"So you do get timid."
"I do not."
She grinned. "Al-haitham described his roommate pretty well."
"I wouldn't believe the words of a man who writes self-insert fanfictions."
