Apartment Life

Caleb

Caleb Evans refreshed the page for what felt like the billionth time.

His ad for a roommate had been up for two months already, and the situation at home was getting dire.

He never thought he’d need a roommate. Hell, that type of thing was reserved for college idiots—not a fully grown man nearing thirty.

Sure, he might be able to find a cheaper place. But his current one was already a shithole. Broken pipes, peeling wallpaper, an ongoing rat problem that no one seemed interested in fixing.

His landlord was a sixty-seven-year-old elderly woman named Bertha who couldn’t give less of a fuck about whether his shower was running cold. Thankfully, he preferred baths, so he could just as easily heat a pot of water and soak his tentacles.

Speaking of which, one of them was busy abusing the refresh button again.

“Don’t bother,” Caleb told his extra limb. “No one wants to live here. I don’t even wanna live here.”

Another one scaled down his back and bopped him on the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” he raked his fingers through his thick black hair and glared at the purple culprit, the suctions pulsing before pointing at the computer screen.

Caleb turned back, his thumb sticking at the shaved strands of his undercut, and his eyebrows jumped.

A notification.

Nope. No fucking way. Someone clicked something by mistake. There was no way…

The traitor tentacle by his mouse moved the pointer up and clicked.

The message dashboard of Rent-A-Buddy—the creepiest name for a roommate-finding platform ever—showed up. The little envelope lit up with a red 1.

Huh.

He opened it.

To: Caleb Evans

From: Lucian Marks

Hi, Caleb.

My name is Lucy, and I’d like to come view the apartment. If that would be okay? Sorry, I’ve never done this before, so I don’t know the formality behind it. Which is weird because I’m a writer.

Um, yeah. So, I guess I need a roommate. My ex cheated on me, and yeah. Kicked me out (sorry if that’s TMI).

Anyway, lemme know when I can come see it.

Thank you :)

Bye!

A guy named Lucian who goes by Lucy? Interesting, but he wasn’t one to judge. The poor man had his heart broken, and Caleb could definitely relate.

Maybe this could be something they could bond over. If he was okay with sharing. Caleb wasn’t gonna force him, obviously, but…wait, did people even like talking about that kind of thing?

Kind of a weird first conversation. Like, “Oh, hey, you got your heart stomped on because of some asshole? Me too. Let’s order pizza?”

God, this was already a nightmare.

No. No! He could not backtrack. He needed the money. Inflation was a bitch, and he couldn’t try and make it on his own anymore.

His IT job paid a comfortable salary, but apparently it had reached its required limit. He could find another job. He could do a lot of things, but why bother? He was comfortable, and change was terrifying.

No fucking thank you. He was good.

The thought of having to interview for another job was motivation on its own.

His fingers flew across his keyboard.

To: Lucian Marks

From: Caleb Evans

Hey.

Sure. How about Saturday morning at 9? That’s tomorrow. Morning.

Caleb

Sent.

Two seconds later…

“Oh, my God. What was that?” he groaned.

Lucy’s gonna think he’s condescending. Of course tomorrow’s Saturday! Jesus, why did he have to remind the dude?

Caleb rested his face in his palms, three of his tentacles assigning themselves various jobs of comfort. One patted his shoulder, one rubbed circles on his back, and one patted his head.

The two leftover ones slithered to the kitchen nearby to start the kettle.

“I don’t want tea! Can’t you just grab a knife and kill me? It’d be less painful than whatever the hell I just told my potential roommate.”

All five tentacles stopped and zoomed up in the air, stiffening.

“Guys, relax, I was kidding.” He swiveled his head around to look at them. They maintained their panicked stance. “C’mon, it was a joke. I swear.”

The kettle boiled over, and one tentacle gently lowered and drifted to the cupboard to grab his favorite anime mug. It had Mikasa on it from Attack on Titan, and it now had a teabag soaking in it.

The rest of his purple appendages resumed petting him as he face-planted into his arms. His mug was placed beside him, and he felt a persistent tap on his shoulder.

Caleb looked up to see a new message from Lucy.

He opened it.

To: Caleb Evans

From: Lucian Marks

Hi again!

Yeah, tomorrow at 9 is perfect :)

Should we just text? My number is on my profile. That way we don’t have to keep messaging back and forth.

Looking forward to your response.

Lucy

ShitFuck.

Caleb was not prepared for that. Emails? Sure. Messaging on the stupid app? Okay. But texting? That wasn’t part of the agreement.

Texting meant expectations of immediate feedback, and he wasn’t ready. Not in the slightest.

He didn’t even know where his phone was.

A slight pressure on his jeans made him glance down. Oh, you deceiving bastard. His phone magically appeared in front of his face, the screen already unlocked.

“No. I’m not texting him. If he wants to text, he can do it first.” He gulped. “Then…then I just won’t reply. He’ll think I’m ghosting, or dead, and…problem solved. Lucy will learn the valuable lesson of privacy.”

That earned him another thwack on the head.

“Jesus Christ, fine! Fine. I’ll send a ‘hey’.”

His pending roommate’s profile had already been opened, the number glaring at him through the screen. He saved it quickly and stabbed his keys.

Caleb: Hey

A vibration immediately shook his hand.

Lucy: Hi! Is this Caleb?

Shit. He probably should’ve specified.

Caleb: Yeah

He didn’t wait for the next vibrations. Instead, he lifted off his computer chair and went to the bathroom to run himself a bath.

This was all too stressful. He needed to relax, and his tentacles needed soaking anyway, or else they’d get dry. And then, they’d get cranky, and quite frankly, he had enough going on as it were.

Caleb twisted the knobs, and both heat and cool collided.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

Ignore, ignore, ignore.

He’d answer Lucy later.

Or never.

Oh God.

With a quick look in the mirror, he frowned. The stark blue of his irises was surrounded by red veins that should’ve been white.

When was the last time he got a good night’s sleep?

Caleb took off his black-rimmed glasses, setting them on the porcelain sink, and his vision blurred. He could still make out general shapes, thank fuck, so he wasn’t entirely blind.

His tentacles stripped off his clothes, and he climbed into the giant tub—the only saving grace of his horseshit apartment—with a heavy sigh.

When did life get so complicated?

It was only a few years ago that he thought he’d hit his peak.

He had a great (remote) job, meaning he never had to interact with judgey colleagues. His boss didn’t give a shit about what he did, so long as he got his work done on time—and he always got his work done on time.

All his friends were online. That left him with a lot of options. Like not leaving the apartment.

His parents were comfortable with his lifestyle and normally didn’t pester him about finding a romantic partner.

Somehow that had recently changed.

Caleb loved his mom and dad, but fuck, they’d been so intrusive lately. They were worried that he was getting lonely. Thank fuck this whole roommate situation would fix that particular problem.

Bzzt.

“Go. Away,” he called out to his device.

His tentacles were already moving. Because of course they were.

Lucy’s stream of messages was thrown into his blurry eyes, and he proceeded to roll them, even his own body parts communicating his sarcasm.

“Great. You wanna read that out to me?”

Caleb’s glasses were tossed onto his head next.

He scanned the texts.

Lucy: Oh, hi lol

Lucy: Um, so yeah, Saturday is cool

Lucy: I mean, you know that already

Lucy: I guess I just wanted us to have each other’s numbers so I can tell you when I’m on my way

Lucy: So…see you tomorrow!

“Cool. I saw his texts. You can put the phone back now and bathe me.” One of his tentacles attempted to respond on his behalf just as Caleb grabbed at his phone.

It fell into the tub with a sploosh!

Caleb stared.

His tentacles all pointed down at the water.

He inhaled deeply.

Then exhaled slowly.

“Right. That solves that problem. Thanks, guys.”

And thus began the most frantic phone resurrection of the twenty-first century.