Title:           [WiP][RGR] Roommates
Author:          OfficeAnon
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/mCv2av4M
First Edit:      Friday 4th of December 2015 05:34:28 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Tuesday 5th of January 2016 08:15:08 PM CDT

> Like lightning, your eyes bolt open.
> You can almost feel it - a surge of adrenaline hitting your system all at once.
> Muscle memory causes your arms to flail outwards tossing the covers of your bed off.
> Unfortunately, your spinal cord can’t seem to remember just where that FUCKING ALARM CLOCK IS. FUCK.
> Flailing your hand across the small table like a spastic, you finally get lucky after what feels like an eternity.
> A little to the left, little more right – series of small plastic bumps… AHA!
> With your initial panic subsiding, you gaze at the red, magically-discharged light.
> 0531.
> It’s been a minute. One whole minute since it was told to go off. Fucking hell…
> With a sigh, you swing your legs around and sit up.  
> Looking back over, you grumble and wipe a small amount of sleep from your eyes.
“Fucking thing gets closer every time, I swear.”
> Getting up, you stretch – a series of popping sounds from your spine greet your ears.
> Exiting your somewhat-small, almost-Spartan room, you head immediately to the kitchen.
> With speed born from memory, you quickly replace the old filter and add in water. A few scoops of ground coffee beans… and press.
> Yawning a little, you head back into your room.
> While waiting on your coffee to finish brewing, you take a mat out of your closet and place it on the floor.
> If you hadn’t been at this so long, you’d honestly debate why you’re about to do this. But you have been at this a while, and so it comes naturally – a few basic stretches to start with, a few sit-ups, a few push-ups. Just stuff to help you stay somewhat fit.
> Completing your routine, you wipe a thin amount of sweat from your brow.
> Stuffing the mat back into your closet, you head over to your accompanying small bathroom and perform the morning triple S.
 
> Well, your hair is still a bit wet… fuck it, it’ll be fine.
> Finished toweling off, you don a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and proceed back into the kitchen.
> Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you hear a distinct *click* and the sound of a door opening.
> Casually turning around, you spy a magenta unicorn brushing a lock of her violet mane off her face.
“Morning, Ammy.”
> Following an almost exaggerated yawn, she speaks.
> “Morning, Anon.”
 
> “Morning, Ammy.” 
> Upon hearing that, the muscles of your mouth start to form a slight smile.
> Instead, you force a yawn, exaggerating the movement and disguising what would’ve been a smile.
“Morning, Anon.”
> You are Amethyst Star, currently flat-mates with Anonymous the human.
> “So, want me to get something going for breakfast or…?”
> Using your magic, you pour some coffee into a random mug. As you do so, you consider his rather generous offer, and, with a tired smile, reply as you always do:
“Sure, sounds great.”
> Grabbing a frying pan from one of the cupboards, Anonymous begins his work – eggs, bread, milk…
> It’s fascinating to watch, really. Like a moving piece of artwork.
> As his hands dexterously crack an egg into a bowl, you trace your eyes across the musculature in his arm.
> Artwork indeed.
> Yes, you’re looking – not touching. Big difference. Even if the other mares joke about it being otherwise.
> A bachelorette, an unclaimed colt. One house, no one else.
> Oh, but a mare can dream, can’t she?
> And so, you sit. Like always, fantasizing while nursing your coffee, just watching while Anonymous works.
> What a catch. So close, yet so far. You could just…
> “...Ammy? Ammy. Amethyst. Amethyst Star, you in there?”
“Huh! Oh, I, just uh – “
> Giving a good natured chuckle, he turns around to wash his hands. As his short laugh quiets he throws his head over his shoulder to speak
> “Hey, relax, I’ve been to college. Trust me, I know what sleep deprivation ‘s like.”
> Quickly drying his hands, he sets down two plates on the table
> “And, voila, French toast with a twist. Whaddya think?”
> Levitating a fork you cut off a bit of the bread and skewer it.
> This… this is actually pretty good.
> … Who the fuck are you kidding, his cooking is always good.
> If only you could find a colt that’s – one, interested in you, and two, cooks this well – you’d be a happy mare.