NEW HOME
For most people, leaving behind everything they know takes a great amount of courage. It's these kinds of people who call it challenging and exciting, then some use a bird leaving its nest as a metaphor to help paint a picture.
To say goodbye to your life and say hello to a completely new one is something many will never consider, because to turn and never look back is difficult. They have people they cherish, things they value, and memories that hold them back from exploring life's endless possibilities.
But to you, leaving everything behind for a fresh start is the easiest decision you've ever made in your life.
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The last cardboard box meets the floor of your new apartment with a loud and heavy thump. It's weird, having packed the next four years of your life into boxes, only to be dropped off on the curb in front of your new home, and left with nothing but a text me when you're all settled, okay? from your mother as she drove off.
"She couldn't even spare me one last look," you mumble as the scene of your mother replays in your head. She stayed in the car, with her hands on the steering wheel and her eyes staying forward the entire time she spoke.
Perhaps she didn't want you to see the tears in her eyes, a natural response to watching her child venture off to a new city. Or maybe, she simply didn't care.
Either way, you're happy to be gone from your childhood home. There was nothing special about it anyway, since your parents always prioritized work over you.
But even with absent parents, you managed to meet and keep one person by your side during the entirety of elementary school and though most of high school. When you reminisce about fond memories, her face is the one that surfaces — the one and only friend who stood by your side.
You both celebrated everything together — birthdays, New Year's, and the arrival of each new season. Secrets were shared in the darkness of your rooms, and you found solace in each other's embrace during times of sadness. There were days of laughter under the sun, rolling down grassy hills, and dancing in the wind. And there was a time when it felt like it was the two of you against the world.
The day before you found her — before you caught her with him — you both carved your names into the tree in your backyard, the same tree that you two would climb and see who would make it to the top the fastest.
She was more than a friend. She was family.
But one second was all the time it took to open your eyes to a new light. To betrayal and to confusion and to feelings that no words can ever be used to describe what you felt in that moment.
That second opened your eyes to deception, and it exposed your heart to heartbreak.
And, it was that second that led you here, in an empty apartment far from home with the intention of never returning. The memory of it all is so painful, and the worst part is that your parents are oblivious to it all — in fact, they're in denial of it all because to them, the story of you finding your best friend in bed with your boyfriend sounds like a piece of pure fiction.
There's nothing you want more than to forget about those two, but thanks to your ignorant mother, she made sure you would never forget by sneaking the very photo frame that was on your bedside table into the box that you're opening right now.
You almost gag when you see Yasha and Ronan smiling up at you from inside the box. You hate that you remember the day that photo was taken. That day started with a movie and ended at a carnival. It was fun, as long as you weren't aware that Yasha and Ronan were fucking behind closed doors.
Yasha has her cheek pressed against yours as you both smile widely, and at your other side is your now ex-boyfriend, Ronan, with his arm wrapped around your waist and his lips pulled into a smirk that makes your blood sear with rage.
As much as you want to throw out the picture frame, want to break the glass and burn the photo inside, you stuff it back into the box, making sure to tuck it deeply inside. It's better to keep it than discard it completely, considering that your mother might pay a visit anytime and ask where it is.
Just seeing their faces is enough to drain your energy.
With a foot, you kick the box and watch it slide to the opposite side of the living room. If erasing your past relationship with Ronan was just as easy as kicking that box, then you would do it in a blink of an eye.
You two met in the first year of high school. Second year was when you both confessed, but you both made a promise to only start dating with serious intent in third year.
And that's exactly what you did. Ronan failed to hold up his end of the relationship — one, because he was using you to get to Yasha and two, he was just looking for someone to fuck whenever he wanted.
Yasha was a friend you trusted with your life. You told her your fears and desires before Ronan. She knew that you were scared to have sex with him for the first time, but she still encouraged you to do it despite your feelings, and once Ronan sensed your insecurity, he took advantage of it.
Ronan took advantage of you, almost every night of every week. And just like the story about you catching him in bed with Yasha, your parents don't believe it. Not in the slightest.
Your parents actually believe that you're still dating Ronan. They believe that you're still friends with Yasha when in reality, you've left all of them behind without a second thought and without an ounce of regret.
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You spend a couple minutes moving the different boxes into their designated rooms. The one labeled bedroom moves into the master, the one labeled bathroom goes next door, the one labeled kitchen stays where it is, and so on and so forth.
You start in the living room. Cream-coloured walls provide a soothing backdrop while white curtains sway gently in front of the balcony, inviting sunlight to paint the space. A plush cream couch graces the living room, accompanied by a sleek flatscreen TV. Opposite, a circular dining table stands beneath the soft glow, flanked by two sage cushioned chairs.
It's minimal and clean, a seamless unity of aesthetics and comfort.
Then, you start assembling your new room. You've never had a bathroom and a queen bed all to yourself, so spending a couple extra dollars on new decor and supplies didn't hurt in the slightest. If anything, it made you excited to go all out for yourself.
After an hour and a half, you finish fixing your room. Flowy white curtains match the walls and complement the light wooden floors. Small potted plants decorate your bookshelf while a succulent sits on the corner of your desk, adding different shades of green that go along with your sage bed sheets. All you have to do is crack open the window and your room will turn into a fresh and airy place, all for yourself and yourself only.
The small taste of creative freedom has you smiling to yourself. "Finally," you whisper, getting ready to plop down on your fresh sheets, but a knock on the door has you scrambling back up.
You're not expecting to see anyone. Your mother already left you to unpack on your own, and thank God Yasha and Ronan didn't think to visit. It's even better that the two have applied to a university far from the one you're attending. Those are the only people you know — unfortunately.
The knocking returns, louder and more prominent, as if the person on the other side has grown impatient. With a groan, you drag yourself out of your room, down the corridor, and back into the living and dining area.
Leaning forward, you look through the peephole on your front door. The small window morphs the person's face into the perfect caricature, like something straight out of a comedy show. Their head appears abnormally large and round, and their eyes bug out as if he's seen a ghost.
Your lips form a line, suppressing a giggle just before the knocking returns — more like pounding. The scare makes you jump back with a gasp. Whoever is causing the ruckus has no etiquette whatsoever.
You mentally prepare yourself for the worst, take a breath, and open the door. The first thing you notice is the person's hand, frozen midair as if they were getting ready to pound the door once more. The next thing you notice, towering over you, is a head of the messiest black hair you've ever seen in your life.
He stares back at you with the same confusion plastered on his face. "Um," he starts, then clears his throat and straightens his back. "Hi."
You blink. Closing the door on this random guy is a tempting option, but when his lips pull into a crooked smirk, you can't help but smile back. "Hi."
The word sounds more like a question to his ears, and he doesn't blame you for it. Seeing him is probably the last thing you expected on this Sunday afternoon. "I just wanted to welcome my new neighbour to the building."
"Oh," you respond dryly. "Well... It's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you, too," he says warmly, still holding his smirk gracefully. The right corner of his mouth is quirked up, revealing a dimple on his cheek and showcasing his sharp canines. His eyes are sharp yet beautiful, a perfect hazel that appears more golden the longer you look at them. However, the more you admire, the more you realize that your prolonged staring might be making him uncomfortable.
You force your eyes off his and look down at the floor. What should I say?
"Do you need help unpacking?" he asks, peering at the empty room behind you from over your head.
You look back at your boxes on the floor, sealed and waiting to be opened. "No, it's okay," you reply as you turn back to him. "I think it's best if I do it on my own. Thanks for the offer, though."
He nods his head. Then, silence.
It's as if he's never talked to a girl before in his life. "Oh, shoot," he exclaims suddenly, slapping a hand to his forehead. "I should've introduced myself first before doing all of that." He attempts to laugh off his embarrassment, but he knows his awkward chuckles are only making him appear more foolish. "My name is Kuroo Tetsurou."
"Kuroo?" you ask, and he nods with approval. "Kuroo Tetsurou..." Just the sound of your voice speaking his name is delightful to his ears. "My name is Y/n L/n."
"Ah, that's a pretty name," he compliments, dipping his head respectfully, and you reciprocate the gesture. A pretty name for a pretty girl. When he straightens, his eyes fall on the boxes behind you once again. "Are you sure you don't need help settling in?"
"I'm sure," you decline his offer, however your feelings push you in the opposite direction. He seems friendly enough to be invited inside, even thought you just met. And not to mention the rest of him — strong jaw, broad shoulders, and a physique that suggests that he trains like an athlete everyday. Even with his simple outfit of blue jeans and a black compression top, he looks good.
Someone like him is definitely trouble, you think before tearing your eyes off his frame.
"I feel like I should've brought something," Kuroo mumbles, his eyes darting around the entryway as if searching for an answer. "You know, like a housewarming gift."
"Oh, don't worry about it," you say, offering a warm smile. "It's already kind of you to introduce yourself and offer a hand—"
"Do you like pie?" he interrupts with a question, his nervousness giving way to an attempt at lightheartedness. "I should've brought one... Or, maybe you're more of a cake type of girl?"
A genuine laugh escapes your lips, finding his quirky attempts endearing. "It's fine, really."
"You sure?" Kuroo insists, still visibly bothered by his perceived oversight. The subtle furrow between his eyebrows betrays his thoughts.
Feeling a twinge of sympathy for his self-consciousness, you decide to put him at ease. You swing the door wide open, inviting him to step inside. "Actually," you say, extending a welcoming hand, "Make it up to me by helping me unpack?"
Kuroo's eyes light up in an instant. "It would be my pleasure."
As he steps through the door, you watch him go straight to the box on the other side of the room. He picks it up without a problem, brings it over to the kitchen, and carefully places it on the counter.
"Is it okay if I start with this one?" he asks over his shoulder, his hands already prying the box open.
"Sure. Knock yourself out," you say, grabbing another box and joining him at the counter. You set about organizing the kitchen, each item finding its designated place. Plates and bowls find their way into the cabinets, utensils are neatly arranged in their compartments, and mugs and cups find cozy spots on the shelves.
And at the other end of the counter, Kuroo carefully unpacks and folds a set of kitchen towels. With a sense of curiosity, he digs deeper into the box, revealing an assortment of baking tools.
"Just toss them into one of the empty drawers next to the stove," you direct him. "Thanks for the help, by the way."
"It's no problem," he replies with a warm sincerity in his voice. Amongst the other cooking tools, his eyes catch sight of the photo frame that you tossed inside earlier.
Kuroo picks up the frame and grins at the happy photo of you and what appears to be two friends. He's captivated and curious to know more about your life, your experiences, and the adventures you've been on with these two. But he holds back, not wanting to overwhelm you with too many questions.
"You look great here," Kuroo compliments, carefully placing the frame on the corner of the counter where he thinks it should stay. "Was it a fun day?"
You don't have to look to know what he's talking about. "Oh... that," you mutter, a hint of sadness and regret in your voice. "They used to be my friends, but things changed."
Kuroo feels a pang of sympathy for you, realizing the picture holds memories of a friendship that had fallen apart. "Oh," He whispers, picking the frame back up and studying the two other faces. They look friendly, but your tone says otherwise. I wonder what happened.
"I'm sorry things didn't work out," Kuroo says sincerely, trying to find the right words. "But hey, sometimes life takes us on unexpected paths, and we meet new people who make it all worthwhile."
You offer a small grin, appreciating his attempt to ease the tension. "You're right," you reply gently. "That's why I moved here to Tokyo. I just need to get away from them and from everything that happened. It's a long and messy story, I'm sure you don't want to hear it."
"No, I do," Kuroo presses on, hoping that you'll open up. "You're lucky I like long and messy stories."
You chuckle through your nose. "I'll tell you if you tell me your story as well."
Kuroo smirks, taking the request as a challenge and an invitation to make this first impression an unforgettable one. He knows it takes strength to move forward, and it takes even more to open up and be vulnerable. It just makes you all the more captivating.
"Sure," he replies with his signature smirk. "But, only over a cup of coffee."
You nod, appreciating that the world has already led you to someone new and away from your past. "Deal," you say, copying his smirk. "Coffee sounds perfect."