❝ 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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"Fancy."
Every person had varying definitions of beauty. The term was subjective, after all.
To Y/N, it was most certainly a dimly lit hall with arrays of bronze frames hanging on the walls. Soft golden rays bouncing off the marble floor, a tall man standing right in front of her with his eyes drawn to a particular art piece, and yet another stormy evening with eventual veins of lightning— just the perfect finish to a great day.
"Was that another Twice reference in disguise? This is the fourth time already."
"Listen. You're making me nervous." She confessed, her arms falling to her sides. "I'm trying not to be awkward here, because you're definitely not doing a very good job at it."
Al-haitham shifted his gaze to Y/N. "It won't be awkward if you'll just stay quiet."
He knew what sort of response his words would evoke from her, so he prepared himself beforehand, stifling a small yawn.
"Hey, dude. You said this was a date, but here I am, paying for your stupid museum ticket—"
"I told you I forgot my wallet."
"—and following you around like an idiot because you seem to have forgotten that you have company—"
"I offered to show you around."
"—so how exactly do you expect me to just stay quiet?"
Her frustration made the ordeal all the more amusing to Al-haitham. Behind his poker face was a smile that he was fighting off with his entire might.
"Hmm. Would you look at that?" He pointed at nothing in particular.
Y/N furrowed her brows. "That's air."
"Something that you need after your relentless complaining."
"Oh, wow! Is rudeness the only trait you have mastered, my dear sextie?"
"I wouldn't call this rudeness. It's normal. You're just too used to being a people pl—"
"I get it." She cut him off, "I think I'm starting to rub off on you."
"This is quite possibly the worst thing you could say to me."
Ignoring Al-haitham's impertinent remark, Y/N moved past him, observing her surroundings to find the thing that would act as the source of her creativity. It was hard to connect with someone's art, and unfortunately, it was the only way for her to feel inspired. The assignment would become more of a chore if she went back empty-handed.
She was so determined in her search that a certain someone's presence completely slipped out of her mind. When she paused with an abrupt motion, her back collapsed into a chest, and that was how she realised that Al-haitham was tailing her throughout the countless twists and turns she had taken.
