inactive

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why you showed up at his doorstep, soaking wet and shivering from the cold rain, brushing past him without even asking him if it was okay to enter beforehand. you don’t need to ask when so many different scenarios of this exact situation have happened more times than either of you can count. you even have your own toiletries in his bathroom and clothing mixed with his laundry, he introduces you as his roommate at this point.

even so, alban doesn’t mind, his home is always open to you for any reason you could think of: you want to hang out, you need a place to crash at, you’re running from the cops, or in today’s case as is often, you got into a fight with your mom.

(surprised to hear the third reason? don’t be, you’re a thief just like alban, just not as good as he is. you argue that he has the advantage of being a “phantom catboy” or whatever. it’s how you both met, two kids who grew up in the urban slums that never slept, swiping anything that wasn’t nailed down to make a living or just for the fun of it.)

“do you… wanna talk about it?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, stripping off your drenched hoodie and flinging it in some corner to be forgotten then barging into his room to pick out a new outfit for your shower. “god forbid, i try to be a good child!” 

“you fought with your mom again?” there’s almost a teasing tone in his voice, like he was excited to hear the latest update of your rapidly declining bond with her. it’s okay though, you know he means well and is only trying to make light of everything going on. “what happened this time?”

he followed you into the bathroom and listened to you ranting over the pitter-patter of the steaming hot water, your voice being loud enough to echo off the walls and express your frustration. “i love her, i really do, but she makes it so damn difficult that i can’t help but hate her guts! it’s literally just the same shit, different day, i probably told you about this exact story a few months ago.” he’ll ask you if you want him to be supportive or realistic about the situation, making you groan because you know that he’ll lose the plot mid-conversation.

“no, it’s fine,” you sigh, exiting the shower and prompting him to leave for your privacy, “i turned off my phone, i’ll deal with whatever crazy-ass insults she sent tomorrow.”

“well… do you wanna play some games instead? i went shopping for snacks earlier so my pantry is stocked!”

“yeah… that sounds good…”

slipping on your underwear and one of his shirts, you join him on the couch and grab one of his controllers, stealing a chip from the bag he brought and preparing yourself for a long night of trying to forget about your misery. alban truly is the perfect person to be with during troubled moments like this, cheerful, funny, and energetic, after an hour or two you feel your stress melting away and being replaced with laughter instead.

“why don’t you just move here and live with me instead?”

“i wish, unfortunately, i’m still trying to fix this shit show of a relationship with my mom, a losing battle— every fight could be a kdrama episode at this point,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“well, the offer still stands if you ever change your mind! up for another round of smash?”

“you’re on!”