Chapter Text
“Hey! Could you keep it down?!” you heard strong bangs through the bathroom door but were immediately muffled by the blasting melodic voice of Shakira followed by the deep tone of Rihanna’s voice. Honestly, a combo you would die to listen to on another collaboration.
As if you were deaf, you ignored the next round of banging on the door and focused on the mini concert you were treating yourself in the shower. Next, was Rihanna making you feel like you were the only girl in the world… shaving her legs with her annoying roommate trying to silence her moment of peace and relaxation. Using the razor as a microphone, you sang the remaining of the song with all your might. Damn it if you sounded off-key, you were having fun. And revenge at the same time. A win-win.
“Oh, swear not by the moon, whoah-oh…” you sang song the next song as the insistent banging continued. Deep down you felt a little bit guilty but not for him, but for the neighbours next door. They didn’t do anything to deserve this shit show and certainly not at 8 p.m. You made a mental note to leave them bonbons by the door if the occasion came. I’m really sorry neighbours, just bear with it a little more. Taking revenge came with its side effects.
The next song made you forget any apology and started dancing as if you were the sixth member of Le sserafim dancing with a towel as your glamorous outfit. The movements were sharp but not really precise and in one of the weird movements your towel fell off. You just turned up the volume after hearing an extremely loud hey coming from your back. The door was secured and so you calmly picked up the towel and wrapped yourself again clicking the repeat button.
Cleaning after yourself putting everything on the correct cabinet, you turned around waiting for the banging to stop just a little for you to open the door and retreat to your cave of a room. The banging stopped for a few seconds and you took a deep inhale, tucked up your towel a bit higher and gripped your phone reading yourself to face the beast that lurked outside waiting for you. That beast had a name and seemed nice but nonetheless, he was a beast in disguise.
Miguel O'Hara was that beast.
At first, everything was fine and funny, you even probably considered a possible friendship to develop between you too. Or more than that because you won't lie and say he wasn't a hot mess walking. Moreover, you weren’t exactly close friends and more of acquaintances but you sure knew each other enough to pop an innocent question ‘Hey Miguel, a real quick question. Do you know anybody that is looking for a shared apartment?’. It was truly a blessing he was looking for a roommate and you were deemed the best one out of every possible suitors he interviewed.
Until your rose-coloured glasses broke down. Say it was not the most pleasant to be trying to sleep and hear moans over a playlist that did nothing to hide the screams of pleasure one random chick was doing down the corridor. Since that one followed another and another. Until it was clear he wanted war. And war he'll get you thought one day after another sleepless and awkward night trying to ignore the show.
You opened the door harshly revealing Miguel O'Hara in all his dishevelled glory. Arm propped above his head by the frame door with his left fist in the air about to bang the door for the hundredth time that evening, a white tank top and loose sweatpants. It almost made you make a double take. Key word: almost. You only saw red, his eyebrows knocked and his jaw tense signalling he was angry.
"As I was trying to say… Finally" he paused exasperated, narrowing his eyes at you. "Could you PLEASE lower the volume of that demonic music of yours…".
You fumed with annoyance and, without breaking eye contact, said calmly. "First of all, Antifragile is a bop and not demonic. That you don't understand it it's another thing" you lifted your phone while playing the song. "And second of all, it's not my fault 'someone' broke my shower head and I have to use this one next to your room, sucker".
You said still maintaining eye contact with his red and imposing eyes with your chin held high and gripping tightly your towel. It was the only thing preventing you from running away.
He raised one eyebrow and you saw how he flicked his eyes from your eyes to your feet and back up again in slow motion. You fought the heat you were feeling creeping up your neck to your face, your lips making a firm line. And all of a sudden a smug smile appeared on his face, relaxing his posture crossing his arm across his toned chest.
"It would be more bearable but I guess I can't complain if you are coming out like this every time you shower, cielo" he said with a glint of playfulness in his voice.
You gasped upon hearing his insinuation. "How dare you… eres un cerdo cochino" you exclaimed, offended and red as a tomato, storming down the corridor to your room, his laugh following you even after closing your door shut.
He was insufferable. Before all this mess you didn't think he was the playboy type, in the end turns out he's quite the fuckboy instead. He was still polite to you, cleaned when it was his turn and friendly otherwise. He was serious most of the time and your friends respected him but they turned a blind eye to his constant hookups and your complaints about it.
They thought it wasn't that bad of a deal, you just had to try and find a rhythm where the two of you could be out of eachothers hair when needed to. You still had to come to terms with that. It wasn't an everyday thing, sure, but it made your blood boil. Why? Because that wasn't mentioned before signing the contract and the idiot didn't give a heads up before the deed. And you tried to talk about it with him and failed miserably in the three months you lived together. Asshole you thought. You supposed a serious talk would be needed if you wanted to live in peace or at least tolerate it.
You sighed loudly and closed your eyes for a moment to calm your frustration. You wished you could kick in some sense into him with your little antics: loud “demonic” music, closing the doors in his face, not answering the door when some of his “tutoring” chicks rang the door. Things like that, things a teenager would do to annoy their sibling.
“If only he… ugh” you gripped your phone as if it could take out your anger. “Okay, calm down, deep breaths” you inhaled and exhaled thinking about the amazing dinner that’s on its way to your apartment.
You were going to treat yourself with one of the best take away sushi around. Delicious, abundant and cheap. Really really cheap, just perfect for an almost broke student. And you, under no circumstance, would ever share it with O’hara. You deserved it more for enduring his night lesson two nights ago.
Suddenly, the bell rang bringing you out of your daydream. It rang again and you put on as fast as your alerted mind could a pair of panties and some shirt that lay forgotten around your messy bed. The bell rang a third time and you glanced quickly at your reflection. Nothing’s showing alright, here I go.
You rushed to the front door and saw the unexpected figure of the delivery man covered by the towering frame of Miguel. He probably opened the poor guy tired of the ringing. Thanks but no thanks, he wouldn’t get a bite of your delicious meal. Pushing Miguel aside, you smiled at the delivery man taking the bag from him.
“Sorry for making you wait, thank you so much” you smiled like you didn’t sense Miguel’s stare at your back and retreated as you were closing the door. “Have a good night and a safe trip, bye”.
You closed the door with a sigh. That was awkward you thought looking inside and making sure everything you ordered was there. You felt Miguel lower his head peeking inside the paper bag. You gave him a side-eye glare closing the bag, turning around making a beeline to the couch leaving the bag on the coffee table. Then going to retrieve your phone, which was hidden beneath your towel, and returned to the salon seeing an already sprawled Miguel on his side of the sofa looking at you. As if expecting something from you.
“¿Qué?” you asked tilting your head and putting your left hand on your hip. You waited for his inexistent answer. “What are you looking at, uh?”
He took in your appearance and blinked “Nothing, are you gonna stand there all night or what?” he signaled the bag on the table.
“Oh right” you chuckled. “The thing is that… You are not eating anything from that bag” you said as you picked non-existent dirt in your nails. “That’s for me, boy”.
He blinked once, twice. Not the reaction you were expecting but not really surprised by his lack of it. He then raised an eyebrow at you “Are you serious?” you nodded. “But there’s like four boxes of the usual I assume”.
“And you assume right, all for me. Not for you” you said making your way to your side of the couch graving the bag and taking out its contents. “Sorry not sorry” he groaned, throwing his head back, his hand messing his hair. You shrugged taking the chopsticks “It is what it is, go and make yourself something if you wanna eat”.
“Please…” you shake your head no, pursing your lips. “If this is for calling demonic your… curious taste in music, I’m sorry okay? I don’t wanna cook anything right now, I thought you ordered it for the both of us…”.
“There’s no ‘us’ in this bag of sushi. You can order it yourself if you want some” you declared while looking for a movie. “And I have good taste in music, thank you” you decided on Shrek 2 for the nht time.
He puffed out all the air in his lungs, turning his head to look at you. “At least let's decide on something we can watch together, I’m kind of tired of Shrek”.
"Fair enough" you supposed it didn't really matter. But deep down you felt a little bit guilty.
You decided on a documentary about mushrooms, colourful at that and kind of pleasant to watch how the little mushrooms grew in fast motion. In the end, Miguel opted to finish some leftovers that he found on the fridge, good for him that way he won't cook you thought but still you caught him more than once looking at your sushi and back at you when he thought you weren't paying attention. You wouldn't budge one bit, not even when you saw him pouting. Not a chance…
Not a chance…
"Which one do you want?" you asked, eyes focused on the tv. You felt him stare. “I’m not gonna repeat myself, hurry before I change my mind” you said pointing to your half-eaten tray of sushi with your chopsticks.
“The tuna one with avocado, please” he murmured, closing the distance between you two, waiting, with his mouth open.
You caught his intentions and his lack of cutlery and opted for the fastest way, gulping down your incoming embarrassment. Grabbing the piece with your chopsticks, you gave it to him like it wasn’t that much of a deal, trying not to stare too much and avoiding eye contact. To your demise, he wasn’t planning on going easy on you. Instead of avoiding touching or licking your chopsticks like anybody would do, Miguel wasn’t like everybody and decided to do the exact opposite.
“Ugh, really? Why did you have to do that? Gross… They were my chopsticks idiot…” you cried leaving them on his closed lips. “I hope you enjoyed that because that’s the first and last bite you’ll get”.
You searched for another pair of chopsticks on the bag not noticing how Miguel observed you slowly munching his piece of sushi on the same spot, centimetres away from your form. “I’m sorry…” he said with his voice barely a whisper.
“For what?”.
He watched as you struggled to keep the tray balanced on your crossed legs while looking for the damned chopsticks. “For stressing you out” he said blatantly, holding your tray in his hand.
You turned to him surprised and confused, not really connecting the dots. And apparently, it was so obvious that made Miguel crack one of his rare smiles these days. It was so precious all you wanted was to do was keep it secure in a little box and protect it. He took the chopsticks from your frozen hand and broke them, all the while with the tray in his other hand. This man could do things so simple so… hot you fantasized. You gulped, ignoring the heat that was obviously creeping up your neck, tinting your cheeks red. You mumbled thanks when Miguel offered you back your tray.
“I’m not dumb Y/n, I know you enough to know that you are stressed about something” he said, crossing his arms around his chest and making his biceps pop. “You weren’t like this when you first came in, grumpy and sullen. What is it?”.
You gave him a tired look. “Look, we need to talk about… this” you signalled the apartment. “I don’t want to be angry 24/7 because you can’t keep your hookups quiet. I am tired of being angry and annoying you, believe it or not, I don’t enjoy it” he raised an eyebrow at you “Most of the time. And with everything at the uni it’s… I can't rest well”.
"So... You are telling me you listen to me fuck? Pervertida''.
"¡AY POR DIOS MIGUEL NO!" you exclaimed, hiding your face in your hands grunting. "... I mean... it's clearly your fault they are so loud that I can hear them across the corridor… With my own headphones on" you murmured. Peeking from between your fingers and saw Miguel with a smug smile across his face. "D-don't smile like that! You are the one at fault here, try acting a bit..."
"Remorseful? No mucho" he shrugged with a smile. He then swept his hand across his hair making it more difficult to concentrate.
You cleared your throat loudly. "T-that's beside the point here. Let's ignore that, shall we?" you took a deep breath clearing your mind from any possible inappropriate image. "What I was trying to do is kick in some sense into your 'brilliant mind' to keep it down a notch or at least tell them to be less loud" you pleaded. "I can't fucking sleep well with all those grunts and moans. So please do it when I'm not here, I don't want that mental image, okay? And don't get any ideas".
“You were trying to do that by being angsty around me and doing all those things?” you nodded kind of embarrassed. “What a strange way to do it, I thought you could do it better”.
“I’m… not so proud about that and feel kind of bad for the neighbours” you murmured that last part.
"Okay, that last part hurt me a little but I'll keep the volume down but only if you do me a favour" he sounded serious all of a sudden.
"Seems sketchy... What is it?" you looked at Miguel expectantly eating your food. "Stop annoying you? I can do that".
"It's not that".
"Then...?" your suspicions grew little by little and seeing him hesitating wasn't helping at all. Whatever he was about to say was something he was too embarrassed to say out loud to you or too bizarre to do.
"youhavetocomewithmetoaconventionasmypartner" he said in a whisper too fast to comprehend.
"Excuse me what?".
He sighed pinching between his eyebrows. "Ay Dios... I'll say it one more time and do not laugh nor mock at me" you nodded slowly observing his every movement. He was tense again and a little shade rose to his cheeks, a strange view. He then directed his serious eyes and maintained eye contact. "You have to come with me to a convention as my partner, my plus one".
You blinked once, twice not moving and not answering, completely in shock.
"You are not... saying anything...? At all?" he gulped seemingly more at ease after seeing your no-reaction. "Genial. That was easier than I thought. It's next Saturday at seven and don't worry about the transport, I've already booked a cab. I plan to enjoy my drink, you know".
He explained everything about that convention meanwhile, you were still processing the first line of his speech. You have to come with me to a convention as my partner. It hasn't sunk down entirely and all you could hear was white noise. You raised your left index finger making him stop rambling.
"Excuse me... what the actual fuck?" was the first full sentence that came up to your buzzing mind.