"What are you doing?" I ask as she catches up, her braid bouncing slightly with each step.
"Walking," she says simply, falling into step beside me.
"You don't live this way," I point out, eyeing her suspiciously.
"Maybe I wanted some company," she replies, her tone light but her gaze unwavering.
I groan internally. "Don't you have friends for that?"
She grins. "I do. But they're boring. You're… different."
"Different how?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.
"Still figuring that out," she admits with a shrug. "But I like a challenge."
I stop walking, forcing her to pause too. "Look, I'm not some puzzle for you to solve. If you're looking for entertainment, you're better off somewhere else."
For a moment, Elie doesn't say anything. Then she tilts her head, her expression softening. "Is that what you think this is? Some game?"
"Isn't it?" I shoot back, my voice harsher than I intended.
Her lips press into a thin line as she studies me. "No, Shin. It's not."
There's something raw in her voice that catches me off guard. I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off.
"Maybe I'm just trying to be a decent person," she says, her tone quieter now. "You act like the world's against you, but the truth is, you're the one shutting it out. I don't know why, and honestly, I'm not sure it's any of my business. But if you're looking for someone to prove you wrong, I'm here."
Her words hit harder than I care to admit. I want to push her away, tell her she's wasting her time. But the way she looks at me—like she actually believes what she's saying—makes it impossible to speak.
Finally, she sighs and steps back. "You don't have to say anything. Just… think about it, okay?"
Before I can respond, she turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, speechless.
By the time I get back to the apartment, Evelyn is sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She glances up as I walk in, her expression immediately shifting to one of curiosity.
"What's with the look?" she asks.
"What look?"
"You look like someone just told you your entire life story and left you to figure out the ending," she says, raising an eyebrow.
I drop my bag by the door and sink into the chair across from her. "It's nothing."
Evelyn snorts. "Yeah, sure. Nothing's definitely written all over your face."
I ignore her, leaning back and closing my eyes. Elie's words replay in my mind, over and over, until I can't tell if they're comforting or suffocating.
That night, as I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, one thought refuses to leave me:
What if this time is different?
It's a dangerous question, one that comes with risks I'm not sure I'm ready to take. But as much as I want to dismiss it, the possibility lingers, stubborn and unyielding.
How long can this last? I don't know.
But maybe, for once, I'm willing to find out.
But before I start with Elie, I'll test the theory on Evelyn first. She was the first person added to this segment anyway. I doubt, maybe just maybe she'll be somewhat different.
Evelyn wasn't just a random annoyance in my life—she was my anchor to this strange new environment, whether I liked it or not. It was a shaky anchor, sure, but at least it was familiar now. If there was anyone I could test this "theory" on—whether people can be consistent without fading into disappointment—it'd be her.
I found her in the living room, headphones on, sketchpad in hand. She was muttering something under her breath, probably criticizing her own work like she always did. I stood in the doorway for a moment, debating whether to interrupt.
"Gonna just stare, or are you planning to say something?" she asked, not looking up.
Typical Evelyn. "What are you working on this time?" I asked, stepping closer.
She glanced up at me, suspicious. "You're asking about my art? Who are you, and what have you done with Shin?"
I shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Can't a guy be curious?"
"Not you," she said bluntly, but there was a flicker of something in her expression. Amusement? Interest? I wasn't sure.
"Maybe I'm trying to turn over a new leaf," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Her pencil paused mid-stroke, and she gave me a long, searching look. "You're serious, aren't you?"
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I gestured to the sketchpad. "So? What's the masterpiece this time?"
Evelyn sighed, but she shifted the pad slightly so I could see. It was a half-finished landscape—trees and a lake, with a distant mountain range. It was raw, but there was a certain depth to it that caught my attention.
"It's not done," she said quickly, almost defensively. "The lighting's all wrong, and the composition's kind of boring—"
"It's good," I interrupted.
She blinked, clearly startled. "What?"
"I said it's good," I repeated. "You've got an eye for detail. The way the shadows stretch across the water—it's not boring. It's realistic."
Evelyn stared at me like I'd just grown a second head. "Are you feeling okay? Did Elie hit you over the head with her optimism or something?
I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious, Evelyn. You're talented. You should give yourself more credit."
For a moment, she didn't say anything. Then she laughed, but it wasn't her usual sarcastic chuckle—it was softer, almost nervous. "Okay, what's your angle? You don't compliment people for no reason."
"No angle," I said, holding up my hands. "Just calling it like I see it."
She studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "Huh. Well, thanks, I guess."
"Don't mention it," I said, pushing off the wall. "Seriously, don't. I've got a reputation to maintain."
Evelyn snorted, but there was a small smile on her face as she returned to her sketchpad.
That night, I lay in bed replaying the conversation in my head. It wasn't much, just a few words exchanged over a half-finished drawing, but it felt… different. Like I'd cracked open a door I didn't even realize was there.
Maybe Evelyn wasn't so bad after all. Maybe she could handle the parts of me I didn't show most people.
And if she could, maybe Elie could too.
The thought lingered, uncomfortably hopeful, as I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Evelyn was already awake by the time I stumbled out of my room. She was sitting at the small kitchen table with her sketchpad and a steaming mug of coffee, her pencil moving in quick, deliberate strokes.
She didn't acknowledge me at first, which I didn't mind. I grabbed a glass of water and leaned against the counter, watching her. There was something oddly calming about the way she worked, completely absorbed in what she was creating.
"You're staring again," she said without looking up.
"Maybe I'm just curious," I replied.
She smirked, finally glancing up at me. "You? Curious about anything that doesn't involve avoiding responsibility? That's new."
"People can change," I said, more to myself than to her.
"Mm-hmm." She didn't sound convinced, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "So, what's with the sudden interest in my art? Did you finally decide to join the human race, or are you just bored?"
I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to brush her off or give her a real answer. Then I said, "Maybe I'm trying to understand you better."
That caught her off guard. Her pencil froze mid-stroke, and she gave me a skeptical look. "Understand me? Why?"
"Why not?" I countered, setting my glass down. "We're stuck living together, so we might as well try to get along."
"We do get along," she said, raising an eyebrow. "For the most part."
"Arguing over who gets to use the bathroom first isn't exactly what I'd call getting along," I pointed out.
Evelyn snorted, shaking her head. "Well, it's not like we're living in luxury here, Shin. You know, cramped apartments build character or whatever."
I leaned back against the counter, folding my arms. "Right, because two rooms where one has a single bed and the other has two is the pinnacle of good design. Real complementary."
She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. "What, are you still bitter about ending up in the shared room? You were the one who lost rock-paper-scissors, fair and square."
"That game was rigged," I said flatly. "You knew I'd pick scissors first."
Evelyn laughed, a light sound that filled the small space. "Don't blame me for being predictable. Besides, it's not like I'm thrilled about this setup either. I get to listen to you snore and mumble in your sleep all night. Lucky me."
I frowned. "I don't snore."
"Oh, you do," she said, narrowing her eyes in mock seriousness. "And let's not forget the mumbling. It's like you're having full-on debates in your sleep. Very entertaining."
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "Great. Glad I could be your personal nighttime podcast."
Evelyn grinned, but her expression softened slightly. "Look, it's not ideal, but we're making it work. And honestly… I don't mind you being around. Most of the time, anyway."
I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the rare admission. "Is that your way of saying you actually tolerate me?"
"Don't push your luck," she said quickly, turning back to her sketchpad. But the faint smile on her face lingered.
Later that day, as I sat through another monotonous lecture, Evelyn's words stuck with me. I don't mind you being around.
It wasn't much, but it was something.
If she could handle living in close quarters with me, flaws and all, maybe there was hope for this so-called "theory." Maybe I could give her a little more of the real me, piece by cautious piece, without it all falling apart.
But with Elie waiting for me after class, I couldn't help but wonder if I was ready to test that on someone outside this fragile dynamic.
For now, though, I had Evelyn. And maybe that was enough to start with.
The lecture dragged on, each word from the professor blending into the next. My mind wandered back to Evelyn's rare moment of sincerity that morning. It wasn't exactly groundbreaking, but hearing her admit she didn't mind my presence had a strange effect on me.
Maybe, just maybe, Evelyn could be the first crack in the armor I'd spent years building.
As the class finally ended, I gathered my things slowly, knowing full well what was waiting for me. Elie, with her endless persistence and unwavering curiosity, had made it a habit to catch me after every lecture. Sure enough, as I stepped out of the classroom, there she was, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed.
"You're late," she said with a grin.
"Class just ended," I replied, already bracing for the interaction.
"Exactly. Everyone else was out five minutes ago. What were you doing, mentally preparing for me?"
I rolled my eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."
Elie fell into step beside me as I started down the hall, her energy practically radiating off her. "So, how's your day been? Or should I not bother asking because you'll just say, 'fine' and leave it at that?"
"Fine," I said flatly, earning a laugh from her.
"Predictable," she said, shaking her head. "But I guess I'll keep trying."
Her optimism was relentless, and for some reason, it wasn't as annoying as it should've been. Maybe Evelyn's words were still lingering in my head, softening me in ways I wasn't used to.
"So," Elie continued, her tone more curious now, "why don't you ever talk about your roommate? Evelyn, right?"
I glanced at her, surprised by the question. "What about her?"
"Well, she's the only person you're around more than me, so I figure she must know you better than most people."
The comment hit harder than I expected. Evelyn did know me better than most, which wasn't saying much. Still, the thought of someone else recognizing that felt… strange.
"She's fine," I said after a pause. "Annoying sometimes, but tolerable."
Elie raised an eyebrow. "High praise coming from you. She must be special."
I snorted. "Special? Hardly. She's just persistent. Kind of like you."
"Persistent people tend to stick around," Elie said, a teasing edge to her voice. "Maybe that's why you tolerate us."
I didn't respond, but her words hung in the air. Persistent people… was that really what I was holding onto? Evelyn's unspoken consistency and Elie's relentless presence?
By the time we reached the quad, Elie turned to face me, her expression softening. "You know, Shin, you can let people in without it being a big deal. No one's asking for a deep, soul-baring confession or anything."
I scoffed. "Says the person who interrogates me every chance she gets."
"Interrogate? I call it friendly conversation," she said with a grin. "But fine, I'll back off. For now."
Before I could respond, she gave me a small wave and walked off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
When I got back to the apartment, Evelyn was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She glanced up as I walked in, raising an eyebrow.
"You look like you've been thinking. Dangerous territory for you," she said, smirking.
"Funny," I said, dropping my bag by the door. "What are you up to?"
"Waiting for my brain to come back to life," she replied, sitting up. "Why? You planning to enlighten me with another motivational speech?"
"Not quite," I said, sitting down across from her. "Just… thinking about what you said earlier."
She frowned slightly, clearly trying to recall the conversation. "About what?"
"About us getting along. Or not getting along," I said, scratching the back of my head. "You were right. This whole situation isn't ideal, but… you're not terrible company."
Evelyn blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Wow, that almost sounded like a compliment. Are you feeling okay?"
"Don't get used to it," I said quickly.
She laughed, a genuine sound that eased some of the tension in the room. "Noted. But for what it's worth, you're not terrible either. Most of the time."
It was a small exchange, but it felt significant in a way I couldn't quite explain. Maybe this whole "testing the theory" thing wouldn't be a complete disaster after all.
Maybe, just maybe, I was capable of letting people in—starting with Evelyn.