❝ 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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Al-haitham's fingers were fast.
Y/N had to sit back and wonder how this man was capable of doing absolutely everything with ease. Even if it was his first time trying something, he was somehow always above average at it. What a monster.
A hot monster. With distracting assets.
God, Al-haitham. Was wearing a compression T-shirt necessary?
She took in a breath, shaking away her unpleasant thoughts.
"Wow. That's another full combo."
The two had woken up at 4 AM, seemingly conscious of each other's presence even in slumber. Y/N was having the nastiest headache of her life (exaggeration) and Al-haitham was simply a light sleeper who was stirred awake by her movements.
Neither of them was able to go back to sleep. Not when their thoughts were continuously echoing a choir of what-ifs.
For instance— 'what if he hears me snore?'and 'what if she does something idiotic while I'm knocked out?'
Y/N had quite literally nothing to do. The only interesting thing in the room was Al-haitham, and boy did he look perfectly paintable under the golden glow of the lamp.
She climbed up to his bed, adjusting herself next to him. He didn't even so much as glance at her as the mattress around him dipped, wordlessly turning a crisp page of the book in his hands. The tranquility in the atmosphere was tugging at their hearts, making them wonder if the other was able to hear the loud thumps of the stupid bloody contraption in their chests.
Though eager to tackle the silence, she didn't speak until she was entirely confident in her sobriety.
She didn't want to embarrass herself by letting the drunk in her talk, again. She could only recall a couple of minuscule bits from her hazy memory, but they were enough to send a shiver down her spine, drowning her in a fresh wave of mortification.
Never touch alcohol if you want your reputation intact.
Al-haitham—yes, the fun-repellent, insufferable man—was unexpectedly intrigued when she started talking about something called Project Sekai. Fast forward to the edge of dawn, they were having a full-blown war over who'd clear more songs until the sun spilt its rays across the campus.
Y/N had started to sweat, worrying that her crown might be stolen from her if this man continued to effortlessly breeze his way through every fucking level 23 song.
