The apartment wasn't large. A hallway ran down the center.
To the left was "his" small room, and immediately to the right was a cramped kitchen.
Further along, the hallway ended in a wall with two simple doors.
On the left was a bathroom, right next to it was a toilet.
"Her" room, slightly larger, shared a wall with his small room.
He never went in there. He only glimpsed the interior twice, when he was leaving the bathroom and she was leaving the room.
To the right of the apartment was another large room with an old television, old furniture, and a stained cherry sofa. He never stayed in it, while she did occasionally.
She moved in nine days ago. She came to the city to study management and marketing during the day.
At first, a friend provided her with accommodation until she found a place of her own.
The prices weren't cheap, and she was careful with every penny, which is when she found his ad.
"Room for rent to a quiet, well-behaved, non-confrontational person, price negotiable." She went that same day.
She found a small, old button, additionally covered with wall paint, and rang the bell.
After a long moment, he stood on the threshold, giving her a strange look.
He preferred a man. Eventually, however, he let her in to look around.
He needed money. His old funds were slowly running low. There was no time to choose a tenant to suit every taste. The price was acceptable, the room looked good, and after two days, she moved in.
She liked that the man she was living with seemed composed and calm.
She knew he would ensure the utmost privacy and peace. She had been living there for nine days and was accustomed to the fact that her roommate was rather quiet and withdrawn.
Days passed, and they sometimes passed each other in the hallway when he went to the bathroom.
She tried to strike up a conversation with him, but these were common topics that quickly fizzled out.
She knew he'd been living alone for over a year, and she knew he was currently unemployed.
She was actually pleased to have found someone like him.
Nothing would distract her and cloud her thoughts. She could focus on her studies.
Weeks passed, and as always, he stayed in his room all day.
Only occasionally, when she was studying, would she hear him leave or enter the bathroom. "
I wonder what he was doing in that room all day," she thought. "
Maybe he's some kind of pervert, obsessed with pictures of children online?"
Or maybe he'd lost someone close and lost all will to live.
She was a sensitive and sensitive girl who was beginning to feel sympathy for him."
As the weeks passed, his presence intrigued her more and more, and she felt somehow sorry for him. She couldn't stop thinking about him at that moment. She was increasingly convinced that he must be suffering terribly in some way.
Whenever he did speak to her, she always heard the same gloomy, alien tone. As if the life had drained from him.
Perhaps he felt lonely and abandoned? "Maybe he'd been deeply disappointed in someone at some point?
How could he sit so constantly in a dark room… She
'd never seen anyone come to see him. She'd never seen him call anyone.
He wasn't ugly, but rather quite unkempt. He
certainly hadn't been to a barber in a long time," she thought, recalling his mop of shaggy, twisted hair.
Then there was his unevenly bearded face.
A brown, unkempt beard clumsily framed his neck and chin, reaching below his ears.
Despite all this, she had the impression that if he shaved and cut his hair, he'd be a truly handsome man.
His gentle features and pretty eyes betrayed it.
She didn't really know how old he was. She guessed around twenty-seven.
She heard the sound of a door opening. She put down her accounting book and gently pushed herself out of bed, listening.
He went into the bathroom.
She sighed and, lying down, went back to studying. She wondered one more thing: did he eat anything at all? She never saw him in the kitchen at lunchtime; it was the same in the mornings and evenings. He usually stayed in his room.
The second day, when she was preparing dinner for herself, she thought she'd make more.
She still thought then that perhaps they could get to know each other a little better over the meal.
As he returned from the bathroom, she slid gracefully from behind the wall, standing in front of him in her apron, a turner in her hand.
"I made potatoes with meat. I thought you might like to eat with me,"
she said. "No. Thanks," she heard only a grim reply.
She stood there for a moment, confused. She hadn't expected him to refuse.
"I've already eaten today, really, thanks for the trouble," he added hastily, seeing her confusion, and then went into his dark room.
"Well," she snapped out of it, "if I don't
want to, I don't want to." Later, while eating, she wondered if he'd lied to her or if he'd actually eaten anything.
Ultimately, she was
convinced he had. She left his dish on the counter; maybe he'd be tempted after all. When she returned that evening, she thought there were fewer potatoes, but she wasn't entirely sure.
He must have eaten something, she thought now .
He probably went out for food while she was at school.
She was also puzzled by the fact that so far, the fridge had always contained her things.
She'd never seen anything of his, and there was no trash in the trash can. She wanted to peek into his room and see if he kept everything he needed there, but it was impossible. She also remembered the day she'd invited some new friends from college.
She could entertain guests in the living room, as long as they weren't twenty-person parties and it was relatively quiet. Four friends and she gathered, gossiping about the men at the university, talking dirty and giggling.
Suddenly, someone came through the hallway.
It was him, emerging from the bathroom after a shower in only tight boxer shorts.
His wet, curled, relatively uncombed hair fell behind his temples.
The girls calmed down upon seeing him. " He must be eating
something after all," she thought, seeing that her roommate had a rather pleasant, slightly muscular body.
"Oh, hello, beautiful stranger," they chirped, almost simultaneously, all their friends perked up at the sight of him.
They studied his body, giggling subtly.
His brown eyes lazily glanced toward the excited girls.
He found his roommate sitting next to them, her face tense, waiting to see what would happen next. She wondered what her roommate would do in this unusual situation.
"If you need anything, I'll be at my place," he said, glancing in her direction, and slowly walked away.
After a moment, the only sound was the quiet closing of his door.
It took the girl a moment to realize that the sentence had been addressed to her.
She woke up to find her friends staring at her.
"What's this guy, so unavailable?" only one asked. "
Does he remember, that's good."
At that moment, she felt even more sorry for him than usual. She
was supposed to be focusing on her studies, but instead she was thinking about the strange man living just next door.
She wanted to do something, wanted to learn something.
His presence intrigued her more and more with each passing day, inspiring sympathy.
She felt sorry for living with such a person.
A person who, it seemed to her, was losing her life. Stuck in a strange lethargy.
She couldn't remain indifferent to all this any longer; her sensitive feminine side demanded action.
However, she got off to a rather unfortunate start.
One ordinary day, she left a lecture with her group to go hang out together.
There were more of them than she expected, almost all men, and even more female friends.
The party lasted late into the evening, during which they visited one pub after another.
Finally, she managed to get home late in the evening.
She was in a great mood, completely drunk.
She entered loudly, making a loud noise and causing quite a stir.
She certainly wasn't thinking about her strange tenant, who, disgusted by the noise, had opened the door and stood in the doorway.
Her light coat lay carelessly on the floor, and she was trying to remove her shoe, knocking the point against a small cabinet in the process.
Catching sight of his legs out of the corner of her eye, she straightened awkwardly, smiling drunkenly.
He only looked at her pointedly. His expression revealed nothing significant.
He didn't seem particularly angry. He simply watched casually.
"I've been lingering at school for a while," she said cheekily, winking at him.
He studied her smiling face for a moment.
"Your business," he replied dryly.
The girl ignored his words completely.
"Okay, I'll tell you the truth," she began with a smile, "we all left the lecture to have a little fun," she added even more cheerfully, proud of herself, swaying on her feet.
"It's okay, you don't have to explain yourself, just try to crawl quietly to bed," he added mechanically, unfazed, retreating back into the room.
This time she took everything in stride. In an instant, her expression became more serious, almost scowling.
It dawned on her what kind of man she was dealing with, and since she was drunk, she would tell him anything she wanted.
She took a step forward, standing right next to his door, which was just about to close.
He smelled the intense scent of her perfume, mixed with the stench of alcohol.
"Tell me," she began, "what are you doing in your room all the time?"
He stopped in the doorway, letting go of the door.
The drunk girl tried to peer over his shoulder.
"You never smile, you never go anywhere." Are you some kind of ascetic or something? – she demanded, becoming increasingly intrusive.
– In life you have to have fun and have fun! – she chirped, emphasizing individual syllables, sometimes louder, sometimes softer, and sometimes drawing it out unnaturally. She was completely drunk.
The boy just stood there, watching her.
– My life is my business – he replied dryly and alienatedly.
Undeterred, the girl continued, however
, – Or maybe you are – she hesitated, searching for the word – some kind of pervert, what? – she finally stammered.
– Who watches porn movies involving minors all day long. – she continued, hiccupping on the last word.
– And you're completely drunk, come on, I'll take you to bed – even now he spoke in that calm and gloomy voice of his.
He knew not to take the girl into his home.
There's always some kind of problem with them, he mentally scolded himself, growing frustrated with the whole situation.
The moment he reached out, she slipped sideways, flying into the room.
A black bed, a black armchair, a desk…
Everything seemed pitch black.
To the right, only the blue glow of an active monitor cast a faint glow.
The entire small room was an exaggerated mess.
She couldn't quite identify the scattered items, except for some gray sweatpants.
On the right wall above the monitor, a mass of various notes were tacked on.
The sides of the monitor also had similar notes.
"Enough of this," he blurted out, grabbing her forearm and pulling her toward the door.
She didn't have time to resist and obediently allowed herself to be led out.
With her other hand, she only rolled up a small note that lay among the others on the black desk.
He led her into the room, pushing the door open with his foot.
Once inside, he released his grip, and she automatically flew away from him like a lark from a cage; she wobbled across the room and collapsed onto the bed, smiling, sighing loudly.
He stood for a moment, watching her.
After a moment, she propped herself up slightly on her elbows.
"Why are you wasting your life like this?" she asked suddenly, her voice completely frivolous and amusing .
Although the question was perfectly serious, the alcohol had caused her to say it without betraying even the slightest hint of seriousness.
He was looking at her. Her expression was vague and comical.
After a moment, he spun briskly on his heel, his shaggy hair slightly tossing.
She simply threw her head back onto the bed, smiling at the spinning ceiling.
A moment later, he was sitting in his room…
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