nan

It had been a week and a half since I started staying in this flat. and I had noticed that Harry usually spent his evenings out. However, today, he decided to stay in. I usually stayed in, went for a short walk around the block or nearby streets, or talked to my family. 

Our apartment was a 2 BHK on the second floor of a building that accommodated families and students. Upon entering, there was the living space. To the left of the entrance was a wall, with the kitchen on the other side seamlessly flowing into the living area. A large glass sliding door, in the front, led to the balcony, which provided the main source of natural light. Directly across from the balcony, at the end of the living area, were two rooms; Harry's on the left and mine on the right. The bathroom was located to the right of the entrance, just before my room. 

I was pleased with my room; it was boxy yet not too sophisticated. There was a single bed in the corner by the door, a weary wardrobe, a study table, and a window where I had a small potted plant that I watered from time to time. I had yet to decorate my room and was searching for ideas. I brought some of my sketches to stick on the walls, but it was certain that I was not going to keep my room plain like vanilla.

The grey paint on the walls was peeling in some corners, but it was bearable. I was satisfied with the bathroom. It was big enough and had bright tiles; everything was at a strategic distance. 

It wasn't congested at all, maybe because of the fewer chattels. Overall, it was worth the half rent I was paying. 

We had been sitting here for 10 minutes. At first I thought about saying or asking something but my mind was blank. I kept trying to figure out what to say because the silence was starting to feel a bit awkward. However, when we both became engrossed in our screens, I didn't care. 

Eventually, Harry decided to break the silence. 

"So, when do your classes start?" Harry asked, looking up from his phone. His voice was soothingly deep, with a british accent.

I looked up from mine, meeting his gaze. "Next week," I cleared my throat as I had been silent for a while. 

He nodded, getting busy on his phone again. I leaned forward on my chair placing my arms against the marble counter and continued scrolling on my phone. 

"You nervous?" 

Our eyes met again. I nodded, mentally slapping myself to use the words. "A little, it's my first time in college, so. .. " 

"Understandable," He smiled sympathetically, "but don't worry, you'll be fine. I remember my first year of college was nerve-wracking too."

I gave him a small smile.

Oh god what should I say now? Should I ask him something about it? Why the hell am I like this?

"What's your major? I didn't ask you about it before." 

We had already had a conversation about the university when we realized that we were both attending the same one. It was a brief exchange, neither of us asked about each other's majors or courses. We had a small introduction— the where's and the why's. I learned that Harry was from Holmes Chapel in Cheshire and had come to pursue his undergraduate studies with his friends. I shared that I was from India and that my parents, especially my father, had encouraged me to pursue higher education abroad.

"I'm doing a joint major in literature and sociology." I answered.

"Actually, I'm also doing sociology. so we have one subject in common." He said, a grin spreading across his face.

My eyebrows shot up. Oh now that's a great coincidence. He might help me with the subject.

"Oh! and what else are you taking?"

"I'm doing a triple major in psychology, sociology and music." He responded as he locked his phone and put his arms behind his head, focusing on me.

"Wow. I considered studying psychology too, but not to that level… you know, studying for the sake of grades and all the practical stuff..." I admitted, fiddling with my phone. "I just have a deep curiosity about human behaviour."

"Well, I have been interested in it for a long time, pretty intense." 

"And what about music? You like to sing or–" He interrupted me before I could finish my question.

"I like singing," he nodded, a sly smile appearing on his lips.

I gave him an impressed look, curious to know more, but couldn't bring myself to ask further questions about it. Maybe it was simply a matter of mood. 

"That's great! It's your final year, isn't it? What are you gonna do after that?" I found myself asking.

I have always been interested in knowing what people will be doing once they graduate and all those future plans.

"I'm not sure yet," he shifted, sitting straight. "Masters in psychology or music, maybe. Or maybe working in music therapy." He shrugged.

And I like such answers. I like when people are unsure and still figuring things out. It makes me feel relieved and reassured, less alone. It reminds me that they are humans. We are just humans ౨ৎ. 

I hadn't really given much thought to my future beyond college, but whenever someone asked me I tried to appear as if I had some kind of plan.

"Literature, right? You must enjoy reading a lot, then?" He inquired, his fingers idly playing with his soft, messy curls. 

Oh hell no. I mean I do read but that's not why I chose literature. To be honest, I'm not sure why I chose it. I read mostly for myself when I feel like it. I'm not the type to be engrossed in books and texts all the time. I prefer writing. 

"Actually, I don't read that much." I said, pursing my lips, knowing it must be confusing to him. A lit major who doesn't read, well— that much. "I prefer writing. I either write poetry or just… whatever comes to my head."

He raised his eyebrows at my words. I had a feeling he might be judging me, but he didn't question it.

Instead, he asked, "You write?"

I gave him a simple nod of confirmation. I wanted to mention that I was currently working on a small project but I didn't want to disclose it to anyone until I was sure it was progressing.

"Could I maybe read some of your writing sometime?" He asked, almost eagerly. I blinked.

Nobody had ever asked to read something I'd written before, not even my close ones who were aware of my writing. Harry was a near-stranger, I wouldn't mind sharing it with him now that he had asked, but something held me back. I didn't want to be judged for what I wrote. People often make assumptions about our worth as writers, after reading a few pieces. They may not say it to our faces, but the facade of appreciation and praise still scars and bothers me just as much.

Oh gosh, it's always those people. 

My mind was racing with a desire to scream 'YES, YES, YES', but the word 'no' was on the tip of my tongue, to keep my writing personal and hidden away.

"I'm… I'm not sure," I muttered. "I'm not used to sharing my writing with anyone."

"Oh, no, I mean it's completely up to you. I was just curious." He smiled, favourably. I let out a breath. 

Girl, you should apologize to him, at least, for being dismissive especially when he showed interest. He was curious and you said you're not sure? Really?

I could smell his probable disappointment, but I didn't bring myself to say anything. Instead, I felt an urge to confess my secret work in progress. Was I feeling this way because I refused to show him my work or—

"You know," he spoke, "I used to write poetry too, back in high school." 

Woah!

"Really?" 

"Yeah, I tried to, at least." he chuckled, looking down at himself and picking at the fabric of his t-shirt. "Nothing too great, mostly just teenage angst and emotions."

I chewed my lips, staring at his relaxed figure. I often found myself pouring my own emotions and thoughts into whatever I wrote. It was a way of expressing myself, especially because I couldn't verbalize my feelings.

"Looking back, some of my poetry was absolutely ridiculous," he admitted, slightly shaking his head.

He chuckled, gazing up at me, "I was a classic teenage drama queen." 

"I know the feeling, I've written my fair share of corny stuff too." I couldn't suppress a titter as I said that. I leaned my chin on my hand.

"I think we all go through that phase, no?" The tiny smile never left his lips. 

"Yeah, I suppose so." I concurred with a nod.

And the conversation died. I took another glance at him before averting my gaze down to my phone, seeing my reflection on the black screen. My hair, pulled into a ponytail, had somehow managed to look untidy and loose with strands of hair almost sticking out from the sides. I grimaced at my state. My hands quickly reached up to readjust it and make it somewhat presentable. 

Great, I had been looking like this the entire time and it wasn't even a cute, loose ponytail. 

A ring echoed in the silence, grabbing my attention— Harry's phone. He glanced at the caller before standing up and securing his door key in his pocket.

"I'm heading out," he informed me, walking to the door with his phone in his hand, still ringing. "I'll be back in about half an hour." He flashed me a quick smile before opening the door and stepping out.

"Aye, count to 20!" I heard him giggle into the phone as the door shut.

I exhaled a huff and pulled the elastic band off my hair, letting my mid-back length hair fall loose.

Time to oil my hair. 

Reva D'Souza

Bristol. This is somebody's hometown, and I've never been here before. 

It was just a city I heard about in conversations until now. As I wandered through the neighbouring streets, unfamiliar buildings. unknown faces, and sights, the sounds of this place were far from the comforts of home. It was all exciting but also more intimidating for me. 

The evening breeze gently caressed my skin, still warm under the almost setting sun. I strolled past varied shops, stores, and graffiti-covered walls, trying to soak it all in. 

The streets beyond the museum were bustling with vibrant colours, and scenes, full of life. I was in awe of all the work done on the buildings. My feet came to a stop in front of a phone shop. The small building was painted with various phone application icons and logos from top to bottom. Even the shutter, which was down, had work done on it. The shop was closed.

My hand almost reached into my pocket for my phone to snap pictures, but I hesitated, feeling the familiar tug of self-consciousness. It always holds me back. It's not just shyness; it's this nagging feeling, maybe my mindset, that people might judge me. They might think it's better to live in the moment than to constantly snap pictures like a typical tourist or worse, a wannabe social media influencer. But then maybe they wouldn't care at all and might mind their own business.

Although there's nothing wrong with wanting to capture every moment, in fact, it is a sweet thing to do– preserving moments. I've never done that. I want to, but I think I just couldn't get to it. I don't remember ever taking out my phone in public unless it's necessary. 

It's funny how little things like this can hold me back. Maybe I'm too sensitive or anxious, but the thought of  being judged makes me self conscious, even in such a beautiful and vibrant city.

Maybe some other day, I told myself, now that I'm living here for my studies. I guess I'll have plenty of time.

I continued walking until I found myself once again stopping in front of a cafe. The frames of the glass windows and the door were painted in deep red. Through the glass windows, I could see its cosy interior– the warm golden lights were inviting and there were only a few people sitting inside, so it was not crowded. It looked classy.

I stood there for a moment, gathering my thoughts and debating whether to go inside and treat myself to a coffee or just continue my walk before heading back to my flat. The second option seemed easier to me, a lot easier than interacting. 

But I felt like trying. I wanted to step out of my comfort zone. I had never been to a cafe alone before, let alone bought myself a coffee. But then again, I had never travelled so far away from my family and lived apart from them. Yet, here I was, and I still couldn't believe it. I had never envisioned a day like this. The thought of living on my own and being away from the people I had always been dependent on never seemed like a possibility.

I looked up at the sky briefly and a realization struck me: no one knows me here, and I don't know anyone either. I can choose to present myself however I want. No one knows me, no one to stop me from doing what I want. I shouldn't care about how people who I don't even know will perceive me. 

It is a strange sense of freedom– the thought of being outgoing, being loud, being different. I can be anything I want in this new place, right? No… no! I cannot. All my life, I have been a quiet and shy child. That's who I am… or at least, that's who I've always been. Can I change that? 

I sighed. I'm dwelling unnecessarily. It's not a big deal. It's just people, a cafe, and a cup of coffee.

"I think I really need that caffeine fix now," I said to myself. 

I pushed open the door and the bell chimed as I stepped inside. The warmth of the cafe enveloped my skin, along with the distinct and sweet aroma of various types of coffee and freshly baked goodies, drawing me in further. I had no idea what I wanted to order. I knew I wanted coffee but I hadn't really thought about the specifics.

Approaching the counter, the barista greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good evening ma'am. What would you like to have?"

oh, ma'am??  

I returned the smile, peering at the menu board pinned on the side wall. There was so much to choose from– espresso, cappuccino, lattes, americanos, mochas, and more. What was even the difference between all of them? I was an inexperienced coffee drinker, you see.

After scanning through the options, I made a decision and turned my attention back to the barista. "A cappuccino, please." I politely requested, feeling a bit nervous.

"A cup of cappuccino, what size?" he nodded.

I paused, more like my mind was loading. "A small one, please" I gestured with my fingers.

He nodded again, typing away on the computer. "A small cappuccino… anything else?"

"That's all, thank you."

"That'll be £2.50"

I rummaged through my bag, retrieved my wallet, and paid the amount. 

While waiting for my cappuccino, I took the time to scan the interior of the cafe. The sound of the coffee machine filled the air. The chairs and tables were made of dark wood, the red and beige walls looked pretty under the soft golden lights and a few potted plants were placed around the space. 

My eyes fell on a small table near the window. It was empty and looked like a perfect spot to sit and enjoy the view of the street outside. I patiently waited for my drink, feeling excited because I was done with the ordering and payments. 

"Your cappuccino." The barista slid the cup towards me. 

I thanked him, picked up my cup, and headed to the very table that had caught my attention earlier.

I settled into the chair and placed my cup on the table. I smiled to myself, that wasn't hard. It might sound silly but ordering a drink by myself felt like a small victory. 

The cup was a classic plain red china, filled with creamy milk and a foamy layer. It was only then that I noticed the colour scheme of the cafe– red and beige. Everything in the cafe was almost red, from the napkins to the barista's uniform. It was lovely, though I had yet to taste my cappuccino.

Bringing the cup to my lips, I felt the comfortable warmth from the cup around my fingers. I savoured a sip; it was velvety on my tongue and perfectly sugary. I felt content and satisfied. 

My ears were filled with the sounds of clinking cups and plates along with the low chatter of people. I slowly drank more, gazing out of the window at the street. The sun was almost setting, with people passing by and vehicles speeding past. 

Yesterday, I called my mum to share news of my new life in Bristol. I mentioned the flat and the flatmate I'm sharing it with. but I also politely requested her not to tell dad about this particular detail– that my flatmate happens to be a guy. He would never approve, so I asked her to just mention that I was living with a college student, without disclosing the gender.

When I first arrived in Bristol, Siya, my sister's best friend, came to pick me up. I stayed at her apartment until my enrollment procedure was completed. Once done with all the paperwork, I realized that the route to my college from there was annoyingly long. 

I took my time and did my best to secure an on-campus dormitory room, but unfortunately, they were already taken by the time I applied. I was frustrated and desperate for a place to live. I talked to my parents about my situation and  began my search for off-campus housing. Thankfully, I found a nearby flat for rent. Siya helped me a lot by doing half of the talking and research for me. 

The apartment I was renting was located in a very nice area within walking distance of the college. When Siya and I first visited, the landlord told us there weren't any vacant flats available. However, to my luck, he then informed us about the current tenant who was looking for a flatmate. Unfortunately, we couldn't meet him that day as he was on vacation, but he was fine with us checking out the flat. The landlord seemed to have a very positive impression of this young guy. 

"He's generous and a really sweet guy. You have nothing to fret about," he reassured us, mentioning that he had been living there for nearly two years. 

That was my chance. I knew it could easily be snatched up by another student, so after hearing all the good things about the guy, I took the opportunity and told the landlord that I was firm on renting it. He agreed and said he would talk to the guy to see if he was also okay with me sharing the space. 

I knew we were complete strangers and couldn't meet face-to-face to talk, but to my surprise with the little information given about me, he agreed. I was thankful. Siya was unsure but supported my decision. 

I knew I shouldn't make assumptions about this guy until I met him, but I told myself that even if he turned out to be a "bad influence" type, I would keep my focus on myself and my studies.

The first time I met him was when I was moving in and bringing my belongings. Harry Styles, my flatmate, was in his early twenties and currently in his final year at the same university as me.

I must admit, I initially felt intimidated by his confident and outgoing demeanor. However, he was kind and helpful. He assisted me around and even offered to lend me a hand in settling my stuff. I also immediately felt a flutter of attraction towards him– he stood tall and lean, exuding a rough boyish vibe that contrasted with his sweet personality. He was kind and respectful, and I felt at ease.

Beautiful. He was truly beautiful just to sit and gaze at. His emerald eyes were simply captivating, I couldn't even look into them during our brief interactions. His hair was a thick, soft mass of chocolate brown curls, that he always ran his hand through to push back. His lips—

Wait, wait, wait. Am I moving too fast? It hasn't even been a full week, but there's no denying that I'm drawn to him.

I sighed and stared at my empty cup, wondering when I finished it. I glanced out of the window, noticing the sun had set and the sky had turned dark. I felt a shiver of anxiety. I noticed a rowdy group of friends, who appeared to be college students like me. They were talking and laughing loudly.

I couldn't help but wonder what my college life would be like.

"not a trend," you reply. "But I saw some people on internet doing it and I wanted you to try, at least for me." Taking a step back, you admire the ribbon around his arms. His tattoos make him look masculine but the pink ribbon adds a touch of femininity. It looks so pretty.

"Can I ever say no to you, darling?" his gaze meets yours with a sly grin playing on his lips. you flush.

"you can't even dare to!" you say as you drop your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss his nose. He smiles but before he could lift his arms to engulf you, you stop him by catching his arms. "Now, now! you'll have to flex your left arm when i tell you to, okay?"

"yes, ma'am." he replies, with a grin still plastered on his face as he bows down to you in a playful gesture of submission. you laugh, shaking your head as you move to place your phone on the top of your small bookshelf. you open and set the camera and adjust the angle and frame so it films harry.

"Alright, are you ready?" you ask him as he faces you at the same time. He raises his right hand thumb giving you his frog smile. oh his dimples! that could melt the heart of anyone.

you turn on the video recording as you count down from 3 to 1. On your "go", he lifts his left arm, flexing his bicep. He shows off his impressive muscles. oh the bump! your eyes capture the moment when ribbon tears off his arms effortlessly and lands on the floor. He seems a little surprised when it happens.

A second passes and you squeal with happiness, jumping like a child. "OH MY GOSH!" you clap your hands together.

He watches you with a frown on his face. "did you really want the ribbon to rip?"

"yess, that's the trend!!" He laughs as you say that, finding it adorable how happy you are about something so trivial.

"oh well then… I'm glad it did!" you grin and get in front of him, cupping his face as you smack your lips against his. This time you let him wrap his arms around your waist. you can't believe you really made him do this even though you know he'd have never said no to it.

A sweet little kiss but harder and you pull away. He keeps you flushed against his chest. "That was so hot! Can we do that again?" you whisper, running your palm up his arm as he squeezes you tighter. He gives you a slight smirk.

"emhm, no. It's your turn now." he glances at the laces, bows with half cut ribbons and ribbon rolls scattered out of the box on the bed. He replaces his hands, now beneath your t-shirt. He raises your t-shirt up, and taking the hint you let him take it off. your tee now hanging off the edge of your bed, leaving you in your crimson bralette.

He begins tying a ribbon around your tummy. you giggle. As he does this, he sits down on the bed. Now, his face levels with your chest. Once the ribbon is tied perfectly, he leans down and marks quick kisses on your tummy. Quiet giggles escape from your lips, finding the sensation amusing.

you lean over and take the few colourful hair pins from the same box where the ribbons are kept on the bed. He feels your fingers in his hair whilst he works on his art, feeling the click with the sound as you're done putting the first clip.

"heyy!" he feigns protest, but both of you giggle like kids. In the moment, by grabbing your waist he throws you on the bed. Your body bounces against the fluffy mattress as he claims the top position, making sure to pin you down.

"Let me put this in your hair please!" you request, knowing very well that he could never say no to you.

"hm?" he says as he gets lost in the heat and gets too busy suckling down your neck and up your jaw. his lips tickles your skin, making you tilt your head to the side.

he halts unexpectedly, his breathing slightly heavy as he stares down at you. your gaze moves and admires the way his side hair is pinned back, the pink pin adorning it that you put earlier. It looks absolutely adorable. his eyes trails down to your stomach where sits the perfect tied ribbon he did. you feel his fingers graze along your side waist again.

taking an opportunity, you clip another hairpin to the other side of his head which directs his attention back onto your face. you examine his hair. "you look so cute with these hairpins." his face flusters as you touch it, his dimples are in full display.

"just like a baby girl?" your heart flutters as the words escape from his pink lips that look so kissable right now. He remembers how you tease him by calling him "baby girl" every chance you get but this time he asked himself by calling himself that.

"just like a baby girl! i was about to say that." he breathes out a laugh, nestling his head into the crook of your neck. you're pressed under his strong body but he's like your teddy bear providing you the softest warmth.

your bodies stay entwined as you enjoy the silence and make small, silly talks. but things escalated from making out to a point where you gasp when he ties down your wrists together with the ribbons, making you accustomed to how he can switch from being a baby girl to a dom within seconds and minutes. A dom with hairpins in his hair.

The playful times and giggles go on. you both remain oblivious of video recording that is still on and how your romantic session is being recorded.