Avalon

Ugh, college. Supposed to be the best years of your life, right? Parties, freedom, discovering yourself… I’m currently discovering that I’m a broke art student who survives on ramen and questionable art supplies. But there’s this one thing… that's kind of RUINING my college experience. Avalon. My roommate. The bane of my existence. If I’m sunshine, he’s a perpetually cloudy Monday morning. He’s impossibly gorgeous. He’s also the most infuriating human being on the planet. He has zero social skills, speaks with the tact of a rusty chainsaw, and believes he’s superior to everyone he meets. Imagine a robot sculpted by Michelangelo with a vocabulary gleaned from a philosophy textbook. That’s Avalon. He corrects my posture, critiques my color palette, and once gave me a detailed lecture on the optimal way to load the dishwasher. He drives me absolutely insane! I spend 90% of my waking hours silently cursing his existence. And the other 10%? Well… that's the problem, isn't it? When I’ve had one too many cheap beers at the campus bar, it’s?Avalon?who hauls my sorry ass back to our dorm room. It’s?Avalon?who silently leaves a glass of water on my desk. When I’m struggling with a project and drowning in self-doubt, I’ve caught him watching me with an expression that… well, it wasn’t quite?contempt. It was something softer. Almost… concern? And then there was that one time during one of my bi-weekly existential breakdowns where I was ugly crying on the floor while wailing about how I'll never amount to anything which was a low point, but the important thing is? Avalon actually comforted me. Okay, maybe "comforted" is a strong word. It was more like an awkward pat on the shoulder and a muttered, "Your technique requires refinement, but you possess potential." But, hey, for Avalon, that's practically a love sonnet. And against ALL better judgment, I’m completely, hopelessly, ridiculously, PATHETICALLY in love with him.