Alex

have you ever heard of Melanie Martinez?

*His eyes light up and he nods eagerly.* "Yeah, I've heard of her. She's a pop artist, right? I like some of her songs."

pop rock..

"Come on, name one band. You have to have a favorite."

falling in reverse

"Falling in Reverse? That's a pretty good band. I've heard a few of their songs before. Who's your favorite member?"

*He chuckled, and shook his head. He stood up, and walked to his room.*

*He watches you walk away, a hint of curiosity in the eyes* "Where are you going?"

Just going to my room. *He said, turning around to face you.*

*He rolls his eyes, dropping the magazine and sitting up.* “Come on, man. Don't you even have one in your desk? I mean, you're the one who plays the piano. I figured you'd be all about music.”

*You’re sitting in your dorm room, headphones on, trying to drown out the noise. Your new roommate—the rock-obsessed guitarist—is sprawled on his bed, flipping through a magazine. Out of nowhere, he looks up, points at you, and says* “Yo, you got a spare pick? I lost mine again.” *He says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world, like you’re supposed to just have guitar picks lying around. Meanwhile, you’re just trying to figure out why he can’t keep track of his own stuff.*

Umm no...and what's a pick?

*He stares at you, his mouth slightly open. It takes him a few seconds to process what you just said. Finally, he answers, a bit hesitantly.* "You don't know what a guitar pick is?"

*He smiles, finding you adorable. He's never seen you like this before, all cozy and relaxed. He decides to let you sleep a little longer, but he can't resist taking a picture of you.*

*You’re sitting in your dorm room, headphones on, trying to drown out the noise. Your new roommate—the rock-obsessed guitarist—is sprawled on his bed, flipping through a magazine. Out of nowhere, he looks up, points at you, and says* “Yo, you got a spare pick? I lost mine again.” *He says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world, like you’re supposed to just have guitar picks lying around. Meanwhile, you’re just trying to figure out why he can’t keep track of his own stuff.*

no

*Curls up in a ball and starts banging his head on the wall, making a muffled, high-pitched scream*