A/N: This was originally a school essay, but now I'm just posting for the sake of it. If there are any grammatical errors or any revisions you would like to make, tell me or pm me. I probably would make changes often so don't mind me. Every time I re-read my stories, I get this urge to punch myself because of all the problems.

Dumbass I Call My Roommate

"You're 17 now, Sylvia."

Sylvia's heart nearly stopped at that statement. She had always known this day was coming, but had been too afraid to acknowledge it. She had lived in the orphanage since she was born. Her father disappeared before her birth and her mother died on the childbirth bed. Or at least, that was what the managers told her. It's not like she'll ever know if it's true or not, so why dwell on the unknown?

"We have arranged for you to stay in one of the 'dorms', where you will be sharing a room with someone," the manager continued on, oblivious to her fretting.

The 'dorms'… she heard of them before. They were houses where poor or orphaned citizens lived. Standard houses have three spacious bedrooms, each with a queen sized bed. The 'dorms' however, still had three rooms, but two relatively smaller beds took up the corners of a room instead of a queen sized bed. Though the conditions weren't bad, she was still scared at the idea.

Sylvia spent the rest of the day packing and lying in bed until Octavian, her best and oldest friend popped into the room. "Sup, Silly!" he greeted enthusiastically, bouncing up and down like a hyperactive puppy.

She hated that nickname. When they first met, they were both only three, and neither of them could pronounce each other's name fully, so this name stuck. Though it was fair enough, because the called Octavian 'Tavy' anyways.

"It's my 17th birthday," Sylvia sighed grumpily, throwing another item into her suitcase. She didn't have much to pack anyways. Her closet consists of a couple of tie-dyed shirts, two pairs of sandals, jeans, and shorts.

As she continued stuffing her suitcase, Octavian piped up. "My birthday is only a few months from now and I'm thrilled to leave this place! So why are you all doom and gloom?"

"It's just that I've been here my entire life! I've never really socialized or went out much despite that you keep dragging me out to 'shop'.

Octavian softened, "I know it's scary, but think of all the adventure and fun of the unknown instead of the unfamiliarity of them."

Sylvia grumbled, mildly pacified—though still pissed, and started cramming her books into the suitcase. Nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing. Frustrated at her suitcase's noncompliance, she kicked it viciously. Grrrrrrrrr… today was not a good day.

.o.O.o.

Sylvia trudged down the rows of houses, her head whipping left and right, looking for the house with the number 501. 504,503,502… Ah hah! 501. She smiled victoriously.

As she neared the house, she noticed the cracked paint on the walls and the untended lawn. The people who lived here probably weren't girls, judging by the condition of the house. The girls at the orphanage all had squeaky clean rooms that could shine, though she wasn't sure about the people here.

Sylvia hesitantly rung the doorbell despite the fact that she had a key, but politeness was always the best, after all her soon-to-be dorm mates had lived here for over a year by now. Anticipation ran through her. Finally, Sylvia's new life was starting!

.o.O.o.

Darren walked down the stairs without bothering to put a shirt on and yanked open the door. He wasn't in a good mood at all, thanks to his irritating dorm mates.

His dorm mates probably forgot their keys again and came back to get them. What he didn't expect was girl. She had black hair and dark blue eyes he could stare into all day. Darren shook his head, clearing his head of those thoughts and focused on the girl in front of him.

Her face was indifferent, portraying no emotion at all as she asked, "Is this house 501?"

"Yes, it is. Why are you here, beautiful?"

She glared fiercely. "First of all, I'm your new dorm mate, and secondly, don't call me 'beautiful'."

"My, my, you're a feisty one. Judging by what I just heard, you're my new roomy, Sylvia Lesleaf. Am I right?" his lips curled into a smirk. This was going to be fun.

.o.O.o.

Sylvia stomped into the house, dragging her luggage. The man gave her the keys to the house and her room. She climbed up the stairs, and walked down the hallway of rooms. At the end of the hall was the room she was going to stay in for a loooong time.

She settled in and started unpacking. Weirdly enough, her roommate didn't come in once, though by the time she finished unpacking, it was already dinner. She went downstairs, and was shocked by the amount of people around the dining room. There were fivepeople—none of which were girls—aroundthe dinner table and it seemed like she was the only one missing.

"Ah you're here! And Darren was wondering where you were," some dude hollered.

She walked over, her eyes scanning the table. A couple of them were drinking beer, while the man who opened the door stood in the doorway.

"Darren! You're here! Sylvia just came down."

So his name is Darren… She felt a blush rise on her cheek as she turned to look at him. She then remembered his bare chest and her cheeks darkened further. As Sylvia sat down on the dinner table, she noticed that the food was all take outs. Mmmmm… Pizza, she thought.

.o.O.o.

After a hearty dinner, she went up to her room and noticed that her roommate still wasn't there. As she spied Darren walking towards her, her curiosity piqued. He strolled leisurely into the room, sitting down on the opposite bed.

"What are you doing here?" Sylvia questioned.

"In case you haven't noticed, I live here too. Where did my manners go? Let me properly introduce myself. I'm Darren Corrigan, your dorm mate and roommate, pleasure to meet you," he said with a confident smirk.

She could only gape at him in shock. "Y-you're my roommate?"

"Yup," he said, popping the 'p'.

Oh my. As the information finally sank in, she slumped back onto her pillow. This was going to be a long night.

.o.O.o.

The boys found her in the kitchen the next morning flipping pancakes.

"What are you staring at? Go set the dishes!" she snapped. "And quit gawking like the idiots you are."

That snapped them out of their trance. They scurried over and got out the dishes, sitting around the round tables waiting for breakfast. Soon, they each had a stack of pancakes on their plates and were munching away happily.

"Where did you learn to make them? They're so good," Connor, one of Darren's business partners moaned, rubbing his full stomach.

"I was in charge of breakfast back at the orphanage, and I'm pretty sure the authorities would appreciate the children getting food poisoned so I learned."

Sylvia stood up, dumping her plate in the dish washer. All too soon, it was time for work. Today was her first day at the tattoo parlor, and though she felt thrilled to work and paint, she had heard many rumors about the owner of the shop. Bad ones.

She stepped into the portal in front of the house, and teleported to the parlor. As she walked into the shop, she noticed the terrible decor. She scrunched her nose, smelling the odor of alcohol.

A fat, balding man lumbered over to her, bellowing. "You there! Yes! You! Are you Sylvia Lesleaf?" His voice was slurred, and as he came closer, Sylvia could smell the alcohol on his breath. So that was Larry O' Patrick… her future boss…

"Yes. That would be me."

"Good. Here," he said, handing her the syllabus. "Go," he grunted, looking constipated.

Sylvia snorted, "Jeez, don't waste your breath on words."

She sat down on a stool, and got to work. Her hands were sore at the end of the day, and small blisters were already forming. Despite the pains in her hand, she felt ecstatic.

Today was a good day, she thought, smiling to herself.

.o.O.o.

So life went on. She had by now established a pretty comfortable routine with her roommate and they hardly even argued anymore.

.o.O.o.

"Hi Darren," Sylvia chimed, as he walked in to the room.

"Hi, Sylvia." He sat down on his bed, and took out his laptop. Darren groaned. "I have to take care of the restraining orders again. Connor is going to owe me big tomorrow." He slumped back stretching out against the bed.

As he stretched, Sylvia caught a glimpse of his bared stomach and blushed furiously. He looks so handsome all the time, she thought. It was small things like this. Small acts of kindness and shows of vulnerability made her fall more and more in love with him each day. No, she had only met him for a few months! Not love. Just a bit of a crush, she argued. Yet a small voice in the back of her mind piped up. Really? Why does your heart thump like mad every time you see him? No! It's just a little crush! Then why do you feel safe and at home with him, something you've never felt before? She furiously argued with her heart, though knowing it was a lost cause. She loved him.

Unaware of her inner turmoil, Darren laced his hands under his head. "You know when I was told to get a girl for a roommate, I was furious. But now, you're actually pretty nice to be with. You're not girly, you don't put up a fuss, and you don't take shit from anyone. Despite how well you think you hid it, I can still see bruises on Connor's face from when you punched him." He laughed, recollecting that memory.

"It wasn't my fault! He was using another one of his cheesy pick up lines on me. I couldn't resist! He was simply begging for a broken nose!"

"Yes, so you gave one to him," Darren stated, amused.

"Harrumph," she grumbled, unimpressed.

.o.O.o.

Sylvia glared at the clock, silently commanding it to speed up as she picked up yet another empty bottle. "And he was the one saying not to drink on the job," Sylvia grumbled to herself, viciously kicking the last bottle.

"Hey, Silly!" she heard her best friend, Octavian holler. As he walked closer, he eyed the murderous look on her face. "So," he started, "what's with the stick up your arse?"

Suddenly, her boss, Larry, thundered up to them. "Why are you talking on the job, Silly?"

"My shift is over," Sylvia answered, not looking at him.

He snorted and pointed at the clock, his face contorting into a nasty smirk. "No, it's not. You have thirty seconds left."

Sylvia fumed. She clenched her fist tightly, and drew it back.

Octavian, who happened to have the questionable of honor of being behind her, got elbowed in the nose and went down with an "oomph".

Undeterred, her hands shot forward, punching James on the cheek. She then promptly turned away, nose in the air, and marched out.

On the walk back to the living quarters, Sylvia whistled a cheerful tune, signaling that her anger has long dissipated. This wasn't the first time she committed a minor transgression, thanks to her hot temper. Ah well. It's fine.

.o.O.o.

Or maybe not so much…

After another warning from the law enforcement office, she was sent off to work. The people in the department already greeted her by name because it had already been one too many times she got warned. She teleported straight to the shop.

A slap caught her off balance and she whipped her head around.

"How dare you punch me and walk off!" her boss screamed, pulling his arm back for a punch.

Sylvia was ahead of him though. A fist caught him in the jaw, narrowly missing his bruising cheek. She slammed her feet against the back of his knees and knocked him off-balance, forcing him to fall back on the ground. As she bent over him, punching him repeatedly, he reared his head back, bashing his head against her forehead. Though it was angled weirdly and took most of the power behind the blow away, it still made a formidable impact on her forehead. He got up, and gave another blow to her stomach. Sylvia was not discouraged. Her hands shot out and gripped Larry's neck, then smashing his head on the wall behind him. He groaned and went down.

Hearing all the commotion inside the parlor, people gathered around and saw the shocking sight. They immediately called the law force, who then took the two away.

.o.O.o.

"Sylvia Lesleaf. Why must you always be in trouble?" sighed the officer. "This is the second time I've had you here this month, for goodness' sakes!"

"Back to business. Which one of you two was the offender?"

"He was."
"She was," they both said at the same time.

"Justify yourselves. Larry Garrison, why was Sylvia Lesleaf the offender?"

"She punched me yesterday ma'am," he snarled.

"Yet you are well aware she already got a warning and was cleared then sent back, right?"

"Yes," he gritted out.

"So therefore, this was no excuse to start a fight today."

"Sylvia Lesleaf, why is Mr. Garrison the offender?"
"He slapped me when I got to work today, ma'am," she echoed Larry's words.

"Very well."
"Larry Garrison, you have been proclaimed unable to take care of a workplace. You will be sent off to the rehabilitation center for six months, but for now, both of you, pay a visit to the hospital please." It was not a request.

.o.O.o.

Sylvia just got checked out by the doctor and was waiting for the results as Darren came hurtling down the hallway.

"Are you okay? I thought you got arrested; you scared me out of my mind! Never do that again." He rambled, frantically checking her over.

"Calm down, I'm fine," she mumbled, flushing at his ministrations.

"The hell you are! You could have been killed!" he yelled, furious at her for risking herself.

"I wasn't, so that's fine. Why do you care anyways?"

"Because I lo—" he broke off.

"You love me?" she asked incredulously.

"Never mind what I just said, it was a joke anyways," he glared angrily.

"You love me?" she asked again.

"Fine! Yes, I love you! No need to rub it in!" He was caught unprepared as she flung herself at him. She sealed her lips against his, engulfing them both into a fiery passion.

"I love you too."

THE END

*dramatic music flares*