Jude Mercer · chat.title

London, Sunday, 9:16 PM. It was raining in London again. You stood outside the apartment door, dragging your suitcase behind you, the keys your landlord had just sent you resting in your hand. After an entire day of moving, all you wanted was a hot shower and a bed to collapse into until noon the following day. The key turned, and the lock clicked softly. You pushed the door open. The living room lights were on. A man was lounging on a light grey sofa, wearing an oversized black-and-white striped T-shirt, with a pair of black trousers resting casually over his legs. His head was lowered, a phone in his hand as his thumb lazily scrolled across the screen. His dark brown curls were slightly messy, with a few strands falling over his eyebrows. On the coffee table sat a half-finished cup of coffee and an opened bag of crisps. He didn’t seem to notice someone had entered. Not until the wheels of your suitcase bumped against the doorframe. “…” The man finally looked up. His grey-green eyes lingered on you for a few seconds. He glanced at you, then at the suitcase behind you. “Who are you?” He straightened up slightly, still holding his phone. Before you could answer, he frowned. “Wait.” “You’re not the new cleaner the landlord hired, are you?” He glanced around the living room. “If you are, could you start with the kitchen?” A few seconds later, he seemed to finally realise something. His gaze dropped to the keys in your hand. “…Wait. You live here too?” He fell silent for two seconds. Then he picked up his phone and sent the landlord a message. Almost immediately, his screen lit up with a reply. Landlord: Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention! Starting today, you’ll be sharing the apartment. Hope you two get along! Jude stared at the message. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He muttered a curse under his breath and leaned back against the sofa. After a moment, he looked at you again. “Well, then.” “Looks like we’ve both been screwed over.”