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"SPOKE GET YOUR ASS IN HERE OR I SWEAR TO GOD!"
Parrot sighed.
He closed his laptop as he took a long stretch, the hours spending time in front of the screen trying to finish his thesis was jarring on his back.
The thesis wasn’t even due for another month.
Did that stop him from stress-writing like his life depended on it?
Absolutely not.
Academic validation waited for no one.
But after hearing the loud shout of one of his roommates he decided it was enough studying and time to poke his nose where it doesn't belong.
To be fair they share a 1,200 square feet flat with only two bathrooms, and Parrot had never once been accused of minding his own business.
The door to his room was open so he can hear clearly what was happening outside the safety of his little nook.
“I SWEAR IT WASN’T ME!” came Spoke’s voice—loud, defensive, and carrying the unmistakable tone of someone who had absolutely done it.
“WHO ELSE WEARS RAINBOW-COLORED HEADBANDS IN THIS HOUSE?!” another voice shouted.
“It could’ve been Wemmbu!?”
“Don’t you drag me into your idiocy!” a third voice snapped immediately.
Parrot pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood up to go diffuse a ticking bomb.
Parrot is currently a 4th year student at a nearby performance art school.
He's currently finishing up his bachelors so he can move on to his masters, and it's been fun so far.
Except for times when he needs to record his choir homework and one of his roommates decided it was the perfect time to play one of their stupid little games and scream his heart out.
You can only guess which one of his roommate that was.
Currently Parrot has three roommates.
Flame is one year younger than Parrot
Responsible.
Pays rent on time.
Does his chores without being asked.
Had the emotional stability of a little brother that has been through the depths of hell.
There was a time when one of their other roommates (Spoke) stole his yogurt and he unleashed the skills of a seasoned military veteran on him.
The very next day, Parrot bought labeled fridge cubbies for everyone.
Peace was restored.
Mostly.
As far as Parrot knew, Flame was a second-year at a prestigious university nearby, majoring in something terrifyingly difficult.
Engineering? Chemistry? Advanced suffering? Hard to say. Flame never talked about it—he just studied with the intensity of someone trying to prove something.
He also had the deeply unsettling habit of stress-working out.
At night.
Sometimes at two in the morning.
More than once, Parrot had bolted upright in bed after hearing what sounded like demonic groaning echoing through the hallway, fully convinced the apartment was haunted.
It was never a ghost.
Just Flame. Doing crunches. Whisper-counting calculations like a man possessed.
Next is Wemmbu.
He's the same age as Flame.
For reasons beyond human comprehension, Wemmbu seemed to enjoy ragebaiting Flame—poking the metaphorical bear just to see what would happen. This often escalated into wrestling matches that shook the walls and shortened Parrot’s lifespan.
Thankfully, these fights rarely lasted long.
Mostly because Spoke would inevitably do something so catastrophically stupid that Flame and Wemmbu would forget their differences and unite against a common enemy.
Parrot would like to be part of their rough housing as a little form of friendly bonding but the one time he tried it they ended up rushing him to the ER because while Parrot may like to believe they all have the same physique—the three are so much larger and stronger than he was.
While, yes, Spoke is almost the same height as him, the idiot apparently had bones forged from industrial steel and weighed like a small planet.
Anyways, Wemmbu and Flame share a university and are the same age and as far as Parrot knows Wemmbu is either a math, science, or literature major.
Possibly all three.
Goodness, Parrot truly knows nothing of the people he’s living with.
Wemmbu is also the household’s leading distributor of unexpected guests.
Now, Parrot brought friends over occasionally—like a normal person.
But no one could compete with Wemmbu and his emotional support scrambled egg.
Eggchan.
His conjoined twin.
Not literally, but might as well be with how often the little chicken fetus stays at their house.
Eggchan could often be found in their kitchen at ass o’clock in the morning, eating their food with the relaxed confidence of someone who absolutely did not pay rent.
No one had the heart to question it anymore.
And then...
There was Spoke.
The youngest.
The loudest.
The most immature little shit you could ever know.
He's a first year and goes to the same university of the two and is a master manipulator.
He once gaslighted Wemmbu to do his laundry.
He has questionable fashion taste and an even more questionable sleeping habit.
Parrot once got a panic attack because he woke up with Spoke just standing at the edge of his bed with his eyes wide open shining like little flashlights.
Wemmbu and Flame had to tie Spoke up the next time he slept in case he sleep walked again and gave one of them a heart attack.
Still, despite everything, he was a good roommate.
Annoying, but good.
Scarily smart, too. He often tutored Flame and Wemmbu, which Parrot found deeply offensive on behalf of the educational system.
Of course, peace never lasted long.
Soon enough, the infighting would begin, voices would rise, furniture would shift dangerously out of place (one time due to a little hubbub, their coffee table ended up on the roof of the next building).
And Parrot—the unwilling babysitter of the apartment with the only working brain—would have to put everyone in timeout.
They’d only lived together for a year.
And already, things were getting more ridiculous by the day.
Parrot suspected this was only the beginning.
God help him when the lease renewed.
"YOU RUINED MY HOODIE THIS WAS FROM MANE!"
"I'LL JUST GET YOU ANOTHER ONE CHILL!"
"DON'T CHILL ME YOU LITTLE—"
Parrot was barely out his door when a dumbbell came hurtling through the air towards him.
He ducked.
It whooshed past his head.
If not for his fast reflexes he would've been squished.
There was a loud thud somewhere behind him that he decided, for the sake of his mental health, not to investigate.
His eyes widened as he slowly turned toward the crime scene.
Flame stood frozen in place, looking exactly like a deer caught in headlights.
Across from him, Spoke wore the identical expression of someone who had just realized actions indeed had consequences.
Wemmbu, of course, was sprawled across the couch, laughing so hard he was visibly wheezing.
“GUYS!” Parrot shouted, pointing accusingly at the airborne-weapon enthusiasts. “What is wrong with you two?!”
But for real how strong was Flame to throw a dumbbell through the air?
“He did it!” Flame and Spoke yelled simultaneously, each pointing at the other with zero hesitation and absolutely no shame.
Parrot has already had enough of their bullshit.
“I cannot believe you idiots,” he said, stepping carefully around what he now noticed was a very fresh dent in the wall. “Our landlord is going to kill us when he sees this.”
He collapsed onto the couch beside Wemmbu, who had his laptop open but was clearly doing nothing productive.
“Oh please,” Spoke scoffed. “With Flame and Wemmbu constantly at each other’s throats, this place lost its property value months ago.”
“I mean,” he continued, “remember when they threw knives at each other and left dents in the wall?”
"Oh my me, yes!” Parrot groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "We are never getting back our deposit"
“Why do you even care?” Spoke said. “You go to a prestigious private art school.”
“Says Minute’s son.”
“Hey!—his money is NOT my money,” Spoke shot back defensively. “Remember when I lived off ramen noodles for a month?"
"Oh god don't remind me seeing you in front of the open fridge gauging yourself on baby bells because that's all you can afford" Wemmbu groaned turning his head up to look the the ceiling.
Parrot shook his head slowly.
“It is genuinely hard for me to imagine the three of you functioning as grown adults in the next three years.”
“Okay, unc.” Spoke giggled.
“I am ONLY two years older than you.”
“Unc.” Wemmbu chimed.
“I hate you.”
“Are we just going to ignore the fact that Spoke dyed my entire laundry rainbow?!” Flame cut in, still clutching the rainbow colored hoodie.
“Parrot will replace them,” Spoke said calmly.
Parrot’s head snapped toward him.
“What?!”
“Spoke,” Flame said, voice dropping into something far more dangerous, “you better start praying to whichever god you believe in.”
Spoke blinked.
Then bolted.
“AHHHHHHHHH!”
Parrot and Wemmbu watched in silence as Flame grabbed a frying pan from the kitchen and gave chase with the focus of a man going into battle.
There was the sound of running footsteps.
A crash.
Someone yelling, “PARROT HELP ME!”
Another crash.
Parrot didn’t even flinch.
Wemmbu slowly turned to him.
Parrot raised an eyerbow.
“On a scale of one to ten,” he said casually, “how mad would you be if I told you I broke the space heater?”
Parrot turned his head and stared straight ahead.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
“I am regretting every decision that led me to living with you imbeciles.”
From down the hall came a loud metallic clang, followed by Spoke screaming something about surrendering.
Parrot sighed.
It was barely noon.