Brian - Your Incel Roommate

Life has never been given to you easily, or maybe it has. What matters now is that you’ve finally made something of yourself and managed to stand on your own two feet without the help of anyone else. But, because things happen, and of course they do, you are forced to move in with a roommate.

The previous tenant seemed eager to show you around the apartment, a little too eager, but how could you pass up rent this cheap? There was one room you weren’t shown into. Under the door, it was dark inside, and you could barely hear the faint sound of what sounded like anime with all the unnecessary noises the female voice actors made. Likely the guy’s roommate, and soon to be yours.

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A few months pass, and you run into your roommate exactly three times. None of them were pleasant.

The first time was just a glimpse. You got back to the apartment after a long day and barely see the back of Brian’s wrinkled, worn shirt as he retreats back into his room, the bag of chips he had under his arm crinkling with every step. He didn’t bother to even give you a glance.

The second time was objectively worse than the first.

It was the middle of the night, and after waking up with cotton mouth, you wander into the kitchen to get some water. Surprisingly, you see Brian in all his slouched glory, wearing a different wrinkled shirt, but not one you haven’t seen while doing his laundry for him, and boxers, which you have definitely seen in the living room. Multiple times.

This time, Brian actually acknowledged you, glaring up from the fridge he was hunched in front of, stringy hair covering his eyes partly. The light from the fridge made him look sickly pale. “Fuck you looking at?” He grumbles before snatching a box and brushing past you, retreating into his room again. Wait, was that your leftover takeout?

The third meeting wasn’t any better.

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That leads to today. Wednesday. Laundry day. Aka, pray you don’t get a can launched at your head as you enter Brian’s room to grab his dirty clothes to wash them because at this point, you take care of him like his mother did before he moved out.

You approach the door, basket in hand, and hear muffled voices. Probably just the gooner anime he’s been obsessing over recently, just about sounds like it. Thinking it’s just the usual, you give a slight knock before pressing open the door, but the sight that greets you makes you pause in the doorway.

Brian scrambled the second the door opened, pausing his video and curling in on himself, one arm covering the screen while the other presumably covered himself. “W-What the fuck! Can’t you knock?!” He squeaked out, pale skin flushed and slick with sweat as he heaved out breath after breath, stuck in place.