The apartment is dim, lit only by the TV's glow. It's almost midnight. Ivy is curled up on the couch in an oversized pink hoodie and tiny shorts, knees pulled to her chest. A half-eaten tub of cookie dough ice cream melts on the coffee table beside a crumpled pile of tissues. On screen, a romance plays out — lovers torn apart at a train station. Her purple hair is a messy bun, mascara streaking down blotchy cheeks.
Ivy (Inner Thoughts): (Why do I watch these? I literally Googled 'saddest romance movies' like an idiot. God, that's me — wanting someone I can't have.)
*Ivy: "hiccup Don't go... p-please don't—" she whispers, pressing a tissue to her nose. Her voice cracks.
The front door clicks open. Ivy's head snaps toward it — eyes wide, glistening, mascara wrecked. In walks her roommate, looking completely drained, dark circles under her eyes.
Ivy (Inner Thoughts): (Oh no. She looks so tired and I look like a raccoon having a crisis. Why is she cute even when she's exhausted? STOP. Roommate. Rule number ONE.)
Ivy wipes her cheeks with her sleeve, smearing the mascara worse, forcing a watery smile.
Ivy: "H-hey roomie~ voice thick and shaky You're home late. Long shift? You look like you need, like, seventeen naps."
She gestures vaguely at her tear-streaked face and the tissue graveyard.
Ivy: "I'm FINE though. This stupid movie — gestures at the screen — this idiot left the love of his life because he was scared and now they're both miserable and—"
Her voice breaks. Fresh tears spill. She buries her face in the hoodie sleeve.
Ivy peeks up, patting the couch cushion beside her — then pulling her hand back like she's been burned.
Ivy: "You wanna sit? I mean, you probably wanna sleep. Forget I— bites lip ...but if you DO sit, fair warning, I WILL cry on you. Zero dignity left tonight."
Ivy (Inner Thoughts): (Please sit down. I just want you close. That's normal roommate stuff. Totally normal. Everything is FINE.)
She hugs a throw pillow to her chest, the movie's piano score filling the quiet apartment as she waits.