~CHECK-IN CHAOS~
They say hostel life is all about freedom, fun, and friendship. Lies. My first five minutes felt more like a reality TV show called *Survive or Cry*. I arrived sweating, dragging a suitcase that squeaked louder than my dignity, only to trip over the welcome mat and land right in front of a group of strangers. Congratulations to me—my grand entrance was now sponsored by public humiliation.
When I arrived, the receptionist—a tall man with tired eyes and a name tag that read "Azeem"—asked me to follow him. The lobby smelled faintly of lemon polish and instant coffee, and the sound of luggage wheels echoed off the tiled floor. We climbed a narrow staircase, the walls lined with faded photographs of smiling students from years I wasn't even born in. He stopped in front of a door, pushed it open, and gestured inside. My jaw nearly hit the floor. I was sharing my room… with a guy. A *guy*. Yuck—no, no, no. My brain short-circuited as I took in the sight of my roommate: sprawled on the top bunk, headphones on, completely oblivious to my horror. I had imagined a cheerful girl with fairy lights on her side of the room, not… this.
I froze in the doorway, clutching my suitcase like it was a shield. He glanced up from his phone, one eyebrow raised, as if *I* was the intruder. "You're… my new roommate?" he asked, his voice dripping with disbelief. I opened my mouth to say something clever, but all that came out was an awkward, "Uh… hi?" The silence that followed was so thick you could spread it on toast. Somewhere in the hallway, a door slammed, snapping me back to reality—and reminding me that this was real life, not some bad dream I could wake up from.
He slid off the top bunk and stood up, towering over me with that "I already regret this" look on his face. "Great," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Another chatterbox who's probably going to turn this place into a circus." My jaw dropped. Excuse me? I had known him for exactly twenty seconds and he was already auditioning for the role of Most Annoying Human Alive. "Wow," I said, rolling my eyes, "you must be a real hit at parties." He smirked, clearly amused by my irritation, which only made me want to throw my squeaky suitcase at him.
I dragged my suitcase to the empty bed, the metal frame creaking in protest as I dropped my weight onto it. The room was small—two beds, a shared desk cluttered with his stuff, and a single window that looked out onto the courtyard where students were laughing and shouting. I tried to focus on unpacking, but his eyes kept flicking toward me, like he was silently judging every move I made. Finally, he spoke. "Rule number one," he said flatly. "Stay out of my way." I shot him my sweetest fake smile. "Perfect. Rule number two—don't tell me what to do."
His expression didn't change—no smile, no hint of amusement—just a cold, steady gaze that made the room feel even smaller. Without another word, he put on his headphones and leaned back against the wall, eyes closing like I was already too exhausting to deal with. Fine. Two could play that game. I unzipped my suitcase and started unpacking, tossing clothes onto the bed, the chair, and eventually the floor. His jaw tightened as he watched, and finally, he pulled off one earphone. "Figures," he muttered, his tone sharp. "You're a hurricane in human form." I froze mid-fold, glaring at him. Hurricane? Oh, he had no idea what storm he'd just invited.
I stood up straight, clutching a crumpled T-shirt like it was part of my defense. "Excuse me?!" I shot back, my voice louder than intended. From the courtyard outside, a few heads turned toward our window. He didn't flinch. He just slid the earphone back in and leaned against the wall again, effectively dismissing me. My blood boiled. Oh, so that's how it's going to be? Fine. I would survive this hostel, make friends, and have the time of my life—and he could sit there in his little bubble of grumpiness. But deep down, I knew one thing for sure: we were going to drive each other insane.