Hello its Hannah again! Miss me? Yeah I know I've been a slack arse when it comes to writing, but hey what can you do? This is just some cute little story I started typing away at a while ago. Oh WARNING if you think scarsm is the lowest form of humor and can't stand it, do not read for this story is ooosing with it! Anyway have fun. And please review I'd love to know whether its worth continuing or not. :)

Prologue

They looked into each other's eyes, and at once knew the gods had made them for each other. True love, in all its splendor as they spent the rest of their days loving each other.

Yeah, well, it might happen in the movies, but unfortunately for us people who are stuck with the 'real world', true love is a creation of Hollywood and fairytales. Hollywood for one is full of a pack of liars and as for Fairytales, well, have you ever met your fairy godmother? I rest my case.
As I said, for us stuck in the real world finding the 'one' is a wild guess, as you desperately hope that your future husband doesn't grow a beer belly, and he hopes you don't turn into the typical nagging wife while you both stumble haphazardly through the life you now share. Well, actually come to think of it, I'd better start this story from the start, or the first place that comes to my mind. But let me warn you; this is not your typical 'romantic love story.' Instead, it is a matter of events and circumstances that make up my life, you will not find your cliché lines, or your struggles against good and evil or any fairy godmothers, but what can I say? This is my life, and well, this is my story.

Chapter 1: Damn Mary Poppins

I hate dragging suitcases, almost as much as I hate packing. Oh and boy, do I hate packing! No, re-packing, now that's the killer, as you try to shove junky souvenirs, and unfolded dirty clothes in to a suitcase that seems to have visibly shrunk, while you vainly wish you had Mary Poppins' bag which can hold a bloody lamp! However, today that is not the case, today my suitcase has gained weight. So I curse every person I know, including Mary Poppins as I haul and heave it up a grand total of 3 steps. Of course, knowing my luck this building is too pov to have an elevator, so it's up a billion stairs for me; let's just hope it's not one of those never ending things. I have sweat on my forehead which is really gross, and my arm is about to drop clean off. Okay, you know what? Bugger all. I'm going to live here, that's right, here. On this flight of steps, and maybe if I do that, the people who run the dorm will complain, and then I'll say "I'd be happy to move to my room, but you'll have to move my stuff for me." Yes. That's what I'll do. So as I'm concocting this little plan I don't even notice someone come up behind me.
"Can I help you?"
"What..?" I look up to see a guy about my age looming over me. And what a guy! Yummy! But I can't drool too long or he might catch on. "Oh yes please, this bag weighs a tonne, and that's not an exaggeration."
"Well, I'm not sure if I can drag a tonne up these stairs, but I'll try and get you up to the next landing," he smiles sweetly. And with that he picks up the suit case without any struggle and we're off. I follow meekly behind, feeling slightly guilty as he does all the work, but hey, as I mentioned, I am allergic to hard labor.
"So what number are you in?" he asks, although I am so off in my own thoughts like usual it takes me a while to register the question.
"24." As I hold the key with the incredibly too large key ring.
"Oh. That's irony."
"Why?" I say as we come to my new home, its numbers shining gold. As I open the door and he walks in, dumping my stuff on the floor.
"Because you see, this is my dorm."

Things I have learnt since living on campus (not necessary in order of importance): 1. Always watch your toast in the toaster as it's likely to go up in flames. 2. After being introduced to a person repeat their name 2 or 3 times during the conversation as that way you are more likely to remember it. 3. Don't take a random guess at their name as people tend to get offended, who knows why. Seriously, what's wrong with being called Bob anyway? 4. My room mate is very hot. 5. All the girls are insanely jealous, but I have a feeling they're keeping something from me. Note: explore that later. 5. Don't eat the porridge.

By the way, my very hot room mate also comes with a name, bonus! Hayate. It's a bit weird, I know... but then my name's not exactly what you'd call the 'norm.' And by the way, no, it's not Bob. After my jaw dropped with the news that I'd be spending the next 2 years with a very hot someone in the next room, I then asked the usual question, and Hayate showed me round the 3 rooms of our dorm. Which are the minuscule kitchen/lounge, his bedroom and my bedroom. That is now my home. But not to worry, I will soon attack the walls with my incredibly oh-so-wonderful posters and stuff so it will have just that touch of me. However I do notice that Hayate has not bad taste and the walls are already decorated with paintings, but luckily there's still space for my touch.

He stands at the kitchen bench making coffee while I sit on our one couch, and since he has his back to me, I think it's the right time to ask the question that has been nagging me since we got here. It's funny how it's always easier to talk to someone's back.
"Hayate, I don't mean to be rude, but... isn't it a bit strange how the college has allowed a guy and girl to share a dorm?" I let the question hang in the air between us, and as the silence gets to my nerves I add "Well at my old college it was like a rule that girls should share dorms with girls and guys should share dorms with guys." I gulp, please don't be offended, I pray silently.
"Yeah, I see what you mean. If you're uncomfortable in having a male room mate?" his face is suddenly full of concern.
"No! Not at all." He's turned the question back in my face, and I suddenly don't know why I asked it in the first place.
"Good. Because this is the only dorm that had a place free, and I was afraid you might have gotten trodden on if you decided to live on the stairs."
"Oh no, did I say that out loud?" Great, now he thinks I'm a loony. But he merely shrugs it off.
"Oh, tell me about yourself Hitomi?" He says sitting down and staring into my eyes.
I hate those sort of questions. I sigh and smile sweetly back.
"Where do I start?"
"Okay, would you find it much easier if I asked you questions and you can ask me questions back?"
I nod, "Yes please."

Well, although it might not have been as informational as... say... a 3000 word essay on yourself, I did find out quite a lot about my new room mate.
He is 21, just a year older then me. He is studying Visual Communications, specializing in photography. Oh, I hope he'll let me take photos of him, that'd be great to send home to my friends to make them envious. He hates anything with garlic in it, well that is always a bonus for certain events... listen to me, I sound like I'm a 16 year old school girl with a crush! Or maybe I am! His pet fear is public toilets, as they creep him out, and his secret fantasy is to be in a Broadway musical, oh, and he is a scruncher not a folder when it comes to toilet paper. Okay, we ran out of questions.

So, after wiping back tears of laughter, our 20 questions were up, we were feeling much more at ease around each other. This is definitely the kind of atmosphere you want when you'll be spending the next 2 years with this person.
"Hungry?" he asks.
I shake my head. "20 questions are up."
He throws me my coat. "So for the next 2 years we're not allowed to ask each other any questions. Gee, asking you your bra size seems kind of like a waste of a question now."
I laugh. "Yeah, so does the toilet paper one."
And with toilet paper and bras running through our mind we head out the door, and I'm certain I've never been so happy.