room#1

@lucky blue smith @francisco lachowski Was it too hard to ask for a normal day? Who would have imagined that he would be spending his weekend with two over-the-top, insanely, extremely attractive guys who were.. what? Apparently doing each other? If that wasn't the definition of downright hot in his dictionary, Dylan didn't know what was. Just watching the two males' mannerisms he could tell that they worked in tandem; complimenting each other like a unit. They might have been different in personalities, but that's what got them working so harmoniously. Fascinating, really. What caught him off guard — or really, it shouldn't have — was the random appearance of the . Hot-guy-one (his name is Lucky, Dylan) had picked it up so casually, while here he was, trying his manly best to get rid of the light pink taint to his cheeks. Not that he was embarrassed by the sight, but rather merely by their presence. 'Come on, think Call of Duty, Call of Duty, Call of Duty..' Reiterating this in his head helped for a grand total of one second. Because then, Dylan's gaze landed upon weird- looking bottles on the desk. Could his day get any more interesting? Smiling absently at the remark, the male shrugged his shoulder, unsure of how to deal with the compliment. Why was dealing with humans — especially to those he was annoyingly highly attracted to — so difficult? "It's... uh, so well. We basically have to come up with a hypothetical product that could solve one of the real world's issues, and a rough business plan on how he intend to advertise and sell it. I have a few ideas in my laptop, if you would like to see..?" he explained, easily sliding his laptop out of his bag. The question now was how were they going to physically arrange themselves to work efficiently? Do they sit on the ground, which offered them best group work positioning? Or do they assign themselves with specific tasks and work in their own space? "We could, um.. Sit.. on the ground? I mean, uh.. I don't really know how people usually do group projects.." Dylan murmured in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his head. Didn't help that the two guys — Lucky was the shorter of the two; Frans was the taller one — were staring at him like he was the most interesting artefact in a museum or something.

@lucky blue smith @dylan o'brien He was at least a little thankful he decided to keep the white t-shirt he had on prior all of this fumbling, not that he was self-conscious about this body, oh no — with a roommate like Lucky around, it really is not a lie to say they both have exceptional lean but toned bodies, and they were not ashamed of displaying that with different stages of around the quaint little room they have. but, since the boy, Dylan’s the name apparently, is a new guest that would be spending some time alone in their humble abode, Francisco at least wanted to create a good impression on the male’s head. He offers a wave of his own, carrying an air of kindness that contrasts greatly with his roommate slash buddy’s own disinterest in the whole project, the packet strung to the bedside table and he could only hope they hadn’t spooked their little guest into running away, the project still needed to be done after all. Within a few strides, Francisco finds himself right where the other two is standing, offering the decent enough study table that the dorm has been furnished with, though there is a slight flicker to the deep orbs, eyeing the pump bottles that are discreetly displayed there and there’s a silent voice within his thoughts that hopes this cute little one doesn’t question what the these colourful array of liquid is and why the heck its blatantly displayed on their desk like it’s a daily necessity. “You definitely seems smarter than Lucky indeed.”

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@francisco lachowski @dylan o'brien There seems to be an air of stillness that settles on their shoulders as Lucky closes the door. Like an air of understanding flickering across the air, a thought running through Glasses Boy's head and flashing into the blonde and tallest's male's heads like lightning between clouds. Apparent, no matter how much he tries to hide it behind those thick-rimmed glasses. The blonde only nods as Glasses Boy introduces himself as Dylan, stepping towards the bed, bare feet padding against the worn-out carpet as he takes another drag from his electronic cigarette. "So, what have you got for us, Dylan?" he asks, bending over to pick up a stray packet from the floor and toss it on the bedside table. "I'm assuming it's not really a difficult project. You seem smarter than us."

@lucky blue smith @francisco lachowski First impressions were highly important. Sure, one was not to judge a person based on those solely, but first impressions majorly mediated the way people conversed in the initial stages of their association. When his honey-brown eyes first landed upon — or, rather embarrassingly, had to cast upward — the male, Dylan only thought of one thing — holy . He knew he had been somewhat attracted to guys, but it was more of a "oh yeah they're okay". However, now, it was alarmingly obvious. But they were here to finish this damn group project so he can go play. Clearing his mind, he offered a half-smile, chuckling. "It's totally cool. I just want to get this done with," he responded, entering the dorm room, backpack slung on one shoulder. The words 'I'm Dylan' were forming on his lips, mouth even parted to speak, when his eyes landed on the second figure emerging from the other corner of the room. A heartbeat was missed. Swallowing inconspicuously, Dylan pushed his glasses up his nose, flashing hot-guy-one and hot-guy-two another smile. Some would classify it as a grimace; he was just trying not to ogle too overtly. "Dylan. Dylan O'Brien." He would have offered a handshake, but it was too dangerous. God knows what he'd do. Instead, he simply gave a flick of his wrist as a wave. He was already predicting it: his contribution to the project was going to be distracted. It was times like these where he wished he had discarded his glasses in his room. That way, his eyes wouldn't be constantly flitting toward the lean bodies and the hipbones that were jutting out, tantalising him.

@lucky blue smith @dylan o'brien Contrast. That's what they are, just a contrast between two drastically different people and yet they click like two pieces of a puzzle -- puzzling for people to understand indeed. It's not that complicated however, this little "relationship" they have, not quite like buddies but more so like platonic friends that somehow always end up giving each other s, brojobs as Lucky likes to call them. They have fun, the frustrations out and that's that, nobody gets the short end of the stick and no one ends up hurt. Now here he is, orbs a deep sienna and starring at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair's a mess, fingers carding through them in an attempt to fix on the stubborn strands as he had fallen asleep earlier after getting high the earlier dawn. And that lil -- didn't bother waking him up, blissfully unaware of the time because , they had that project to do with a kid that they barely knew but had invited over anyway. Bursting out of the bathroom clad in a simple tshirt and some sweatpants that rides lower than usual, Francisco finds his eyes wandering to the figure that's already standing beside Lucky by the door. "Can't you be more decent, I wasn't wanking off thank you very much. It's thanks to somebody that I'm in there trying to fix myself." It's said with a smile, but there was clear emphasize on "somebody", said somebody now ushering their partner into the room.

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@francisco lachowski @dylan o'brien The knock on the door comes on time. There's a vague reminder in Lucky's head telling him that they were expecting a guest, but who, he thinks he forgot. Sapphire irises glance at the digital clock on the bedside table and it dawns on him. Ah. Group project. Glasses boy. Sighing softly to himself, the blonde rolls out of bed in only his ripped jeans, hand holding the gun-shaped electronic cigar. "Frans, where the are you? Kid's here," he calls out to his roommate, carding thick fingers through his hair with another sigh. What the were they supposed to do again? He can't remember. He takes another drag. Getting high on a Friday is the best thing ever, but to what heights they reached they always ended up sprawled somewhere on the ground the next morning. Maybe not a good idea when they've planned for a group discussion the next day. With... Glasses Boy. With a lazy tint to his gait, the blonde male opens the door and offers a smile down to the shorter boy. "Hey. Come on in. Frans is in the bathroom, I think. Probably fapping if not otherwise. Did you bring the... stuff?"

@lucky blue smith @francisco lachowski What a way to spend the weekend. Not only had Professor Matthews given the class a 3 hour lecture, but they were to prepare for a quiz on Monday /and/ complete a mini-project in groups of 3. Absolutely wonderful. How was he ever going to finish Fallout 4 at this rate? Stomping into his room, Dylan flung his backpack on the bed, glaring at his desk. In addition, he was assigned to two people he had never spoken to. He wasn't an extreme introvert but it did make him feel awkward to be working on a project all of a sudden. A quick glance at the clock notified Dylan that it was around 17:00. If they managed to finish the project basics by tonight, he could finish that last mission objective and still play some Call of Duty afterwards. Within a few moments, he was grabbing his backpack again, heading to the room they had invited him to. Hopefully, they weren't like the classic scumbag douches that people make memes out of and actually help him with the project.

Here's the order: Lucky > Frans > Dylan