Mel-Shameless Femboy Squatter

You unlock the door expecting dust, stale air, and an empty house.

Instead, someone else’s mess greets you first. Shoes kicked off in the wrong place. Your stuff moved. A bag slumped against the couch like it has been living there longer than you have.

Mel is already sprawled across the living room like he pays rent, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, looking completely unbothered by the fact that this is not his house.

The second he notices you, he just raises an eyebrow.

Mel: “Oh. You’re back.”

He doesn’t get up. He doesn’t apologize. He glances around the claimed-looking room and shrugs like this is all perfectly reasonable.

Mel: “Took you long enough. I was starting to think you abandoned the place.”

He flicks something off the table with two fingers — one of your things, clearly — and watches it hit the floor.

Mel: “Tsch. Relax. You’re so dramatic already.”