All Chapters of BLURRED LINES : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

38 Chapters

CHAPTER ONE: BOY IN MY ROOM

I should have just worked on that forsaken toilet when the issue was milder, if I had, I wouldn't be in this bloody mess. But there I was; halfway down the hall, arms filled with sketchbooks and rolled canvases, my brain still locked inside the charcoal-smudged anatomy sketch I had abandoned in Studio B in a haze to settle into my new dorm, and muttering to myself like a woman possessed. “I swear, if my temporary roommate is loud, I will lose my mind. I cannot deal with noise. Not at this crucial mo…” Thump! My body collided with something solid. My glasses slid down my nose and Mother Gravity chose violence. “Oh…” A hand, not so delicate, caught mine almost immediately, saving my head from what would have been a nasty hit. The contact jolted straight up my arm, sharp and electric, like my nervous system had been personally offended. I blinked. Twice. But I was still hazy, I let the hand pull me upright. “Careful,” a voice said. Low and seemingly amused. “You were abou

CHAPTER TWO: SNEAKY MOUSE

“I’m homeless,” I muttered, lazily transferring my anger absentmindedly onto the paper I was holding. We just finished our class and for the first time, I wasn't able to even grasp what was taught, which was unusual considering my mind is always preoccupied every now and then with my final thesis and work; but I couldn't just because of that stupid smug face. Karl didn’t even look up from her notes,“you are literally seated.” “I share a room with a man.” That got her attention. I hadn't told her about the verdict after seeing the dorm manager concerning the plumbing issue. She turned slowly, and blinked once. Then twice.“…A man-man?” I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Karl. A male. XY chromosomes, deep voice, annoying laugh, Smug face.” Her pen clattered on the desk. “Oh my God,” she breathed, leaving her seat, hands covering her mouth dramatically as she settled on my desk. “Is he ugly?” I lifted my eyes from my sketching just enough to glare at her. “That’s your first concern?” S

CHAPTER THREE: BOUNDARIES

It's the weekend and three days since I've been breathing the same air with Mr. Smug face. I took a day off from work to arrange myself into my new space. I stacked my sketchbooks on the small shelf by the door, color-coded because order was the only thing keeping my brain from short-circuiting with the awareness of his smug face across the hall. The apartment was quiet, almost peaceful…just the way I like it. Too peaceful. Suddenly I felt a presence followed by Ernest clearing his throat behind me. “So,” he said, casually as if he didn't just barge into my space unannounced in that infuriatingly confident way of his, “we should probably set some ground rules.” “I didn't let you in,” I said, stilling from my arranging. “The door was literally open and.. I'm not in yet or do you want me to…” I could hear his footsteps advancing inwards and I turned. He raised his hands, leaning on the doorframe. “stand the hell there,” I said, carefully measured, now facing him fully with my

CHAPTER FOUR: SHIFTS

I didn’t see him for days which is impressive, considering we live in the same apartment. It became like a silent sport. I left early and he left earlier. I came back at odd hours, his shoes would be gone and his gym bag would disappear. The kitchen would smell faintly of something edible and smug. It was like living with a ghost who protein-shakes. And I hated that I noticed but happy I was, some peace and quiet at least. I just finished having my afternoon lectures, and I was walking towards the grass to sit down and get some air and inspiration, when Karl spotted me before I could pretend I hadn’t seen her. She was sprawled dramatically across the grass outside the humanities building, notebook open on her stomach, pen between her teeth like she was auditioning for a tortured-poet documentary. “Olandria!” she called, squinting at me. “You look…combustible.” “I am peaceful,” I said, dropping my bag beside her. She stared. “You look like someone who lost an argument to

CHAPTER FIVE: TENSION

By the time I reached the café, my thoughts were tangled and loud that it overpowered that of the annoyingly loud coffee machine. The familiar scent of coffee grounds and baked sugar wrapped around me like a different kind of survival. “Lan!” Marcus, my very loud co-worker, called from behind the counter. “You’re late.” “Existential crisis,” I replied, tying my apron. “Valid.” He said and signaled towards the impatient woman in front of him, “later before I get my ears beaten off.” The café at sunset is warm; golden light slipping through wide windows, conversations layered softly over the hiss (annoyingly loud as hell sound) of the espresso machine. I like it here but the people… not so much. Orders are simple but people are very complex. Milk is steamed to temperature and no one moves my canvases at the back shelf of the store room which everyone; by everyone I mean; myself, Marcus, Hilda but currently hasn't been to work in days and Sam, our manager, who calls it O

CHAPTER SIX: CROSSFIRE

The coffee shop smelled like burnt caramel and poor life choices. I stood behind the counter, wiping the same already-clean surface for the fourth time in two minutes. The hum of the espresso machine, the chatter of customers, the clinking of ceramic; it should’ve been grounding, familiar even but instead, my thoughts were loud. Too loud. “A week,” I muttered under my breath, dragging the cloth across the counter again. “A whole week.” “With your soulmate.” I didn’t even turn. “Karl, I swear…” “I’m just saying,” Karl slid onto the stool opposite the counter like she owned the place, oversized bright red sunglasses perched dramatically on her head matching her very bright-almost blinding outfit and personality, “the universe is working overtime for your love life.” “My love life is not a group project.” Karl gasped dramatically. “It literally is. Didn’t you say ‘mandatory collaboration’?” She air-quoted with unnecessary enthusiasm. It was obvious she enjoys my suffering. I

CHAPTER EIGHT: MESSAGES

(Ernest’s POV) Saturday afternoons were supposed to be quiet and predictable which is why I liked them. No drills. No whistles. No bodies slamming into mine at full speed. Just space to think, cook, game and enjoy beautiful sceneries through my camera lens. The kitchen smelled faintly of onions and something slightly overdone. I stared at the pan for a second longer than necessary before flipping the carrots, green beans and bell peppers with more force than required the oil hissed in protest. “…Great,” I muttered. Cooking wasn’t the problem, the thinking was. And lately, I've been doing too much of it. I turned off the stove, grabbing a cloth to wipe down the counter and eventually dragging it slowly across a surface that didn’t need cleaning. The apartment was already spotless, as spotless as the silence engulfing every bit of it. Olandria hadn’t come out of her room all morning neither for coffee nor complaint. That was new. I glanced toward the hallway without meani

CHAPTER SEVEN: PLAGIARIZED HEART

By the time my shift ended, I was running on autopilot mode. I had spent the entire day pretending everything was fine; smiling at customers, getting orders right just enough not to get fired, ignoring Karl’s relentless commentary but the words hadn’t left me. ‘You might be in trouble.’ It sat at the back of my mind like a ticking clock; So instead of going home after my shift, I went looking for him. The rugby field was louder than I expected, not just noise but the energy. Sharp whistles cut through the evening air, followed by the heavy thud of bodies colliding, the scrape of boots against grass, the rhythmic calls of players moving in formation. The field lights had just flickered on, casting long shadows across the turf, and turning everything a shade more intense than it probably was. I slowed near the edge of the field, arms folding instinctively as I took it all in. It was chaos but organized chaos. Rugby players in red and black striped jerseys with our college logo e

CHAPTER NINE: DEPARTURE

The morning came too fast, like it had something to prove. I woke up before my alarm, which was already irritating enough. For a second, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what had dragged me out of sleep so early and then it hit. Workshop. My stomach tightened immediately. “Fantastic,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. For a brief moment, I considered not going. Just… staying here, just ignoring everything: the email, the accusation, him. But that moment passed as quickly as it came because I didn’t have that luxury. I sat up slowly, the weight of everything settling back into place. My eyes drifted to my desk; sketchbooks stacked unevenly, pencils scattered, pages filled and abandoned halfway through, canvases piled against the wall with unfinished painting; all proof of a mind that wouldn’t stay still. I exhaled sharply and pushed myself out of bed and into the tiny hallway. The apartment wa

CHAPTER TEN: WHO'S SHE?

(Olandria's pov) By the time the bus finally rolled to a stop, the sky had already dipped into that deep shade of blue that came just before night fully took over. Everything felt… slower and heavier. It was like the day had stretched too far and now the world was catching up with it. I didn’t move immediately, neither did he. “Are we there?” someone groaned from the front. “No,” another voice replied dryly. “We just stopped for vibes.” A few tired laughs followed. Then the bus doors opened with a soft hiss and just like that, it was real again. The building looked big through the darkness, and something else I noticed was the tall windows reflecting the faint glow of the bus lights, making it feel less like a creative space and more like something that watched you back. I stepped off the bus slowly, adjusting my bag on my shoulder as a cool breeze brushed against my skin. People moved around me: stretching, yawning, dragging luggage across the pavement, all with no excit

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