Chapter Text
The car drive to trinity’s apartment was solemn in sort of an awkward way, Dennis once tried to make small talk but got shut down.
Once they arrived they climbed 3 flights of stairs before trinity pulled her keys out, “Welcome home, Huckleberry.”
As soon as the door opened Dennis got a huge whiff of vanilla, the inside of the apartment was actually well decorated.
The living room had movies posters; 10 things I hate about you, avatar, guardians of the galaxy, perks of being a wallflower.
In the corner of the room there was a soft yellow record player with a box full of vintage records Dennis would certainly ask to look at later.
Once they had set all there stuff down trinity pulled a chair out, suggesting to Dennis he should sit.
“Okay, now that we’re here, few ground rules, ‘Kay?” Trinity began.
“So literally don’t go in my room, ever. If I have someone over don’t piss me off. And no physical touch whatsoever. I don’t care the circumstance.”
Little did trinity know within a few months that last rule would be broken.
“Okay, yeah uh thanks again. Seriosuly.” Dennis said.
“Yeah, no problem, your room is over that way. There’s just some storage stuff in there that I’ll clean up tomorrow. Cant be fucked right now.” Trinity stated.
Dennis wandered into the room and looked around, the walls were a soft green colour with a few pictures on the wall. Pictures of what looked to be Trinity’s friends.
He set his stuff down and unsure what to do he walked back out, “Is it alright if I have a shower?”
Trinity chuckled a little, “do whatever the hell you want, you have your own bathroom.”
And that being said he wandered off into his bathroom before passing out on his bed for the night.
Sure! Here’s a continuation in a similar style:
The next morning Dennis woke to the smell of something cooking.
For a brief moment he forgot where he was.
The soft green walls weren’t his.
The silence wasn’t his either.
No yelling. No slamming doors. No walking on eggshells.
Just quiet.
Dennis sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes before checking the time.
8:12 AM.
He stumbled out of bed, still half asleep, and followed the smell into the kitchen.
Trinity was standing over the stove wearing an oversized Guardians of the Galaxy shirt and plaid pajama pants.
A spatula hung lazily from her hand.
She looked over her shoulder.
“Jesus Christ.”
Dennis blinked.
“What?”
“You somehow look worse when you’re rested.”
“Good morning to you too.”
Trinity snorted.
“Morning, Whitaker.”
The kitchen island was covered in food.
Scrambled eggs.
Toast.
Bacon.
A bowl of fruit.
Dennis stared.
“You cook?”
“I know, shocking.”
“I thought you survived entirely off energy drinks and spite.”
“Mostly.”
She pointed the spatula at him.
“Sit down before I change my mind.”
Dennis quickly obeyed.
A few minutes later they were eating in comfortable silence.
Well.
Comfortable for Trinity.
Dennis kept looking around the apartment.
The record player.
The posters.
The shelves full of random little trinkets.
It all felt very… lived in.
Very normal.
Something he wasn’t particularly used to.
“You keep staring.”
Dennis nearly choked on his toast.
“What?”
“The apartment.”
“Oh.”
Trinity took a sip of coffee.
“You hate it?”
“No.”
He glanced around again.
“I actually really like it.”
A tiny smile appeared on her face.
“Good.”
Another moment passed.
Then Trinity spoke again.
“Your room is depressing.”
Dennis looked offended.
“My room?”
“Yeah.”
“I moved in yesterday.”
“Exactly. It’s ugly.”
“Thanks.”
“You need stuff.”
“I have stuff.”
“You have a mattress and emotional damage.”
Dennis laughed despite himself.
Trinity pointed at him.
“See? Even you know I’m right.”
A few minutes later she stood up.
“Get dressed.”
“Huh?”
“We’re going shopping.”
Dennis frowned.
“For what?”
“For your room.”
“I don’t have money for that.”
Trinity rolled her eyes dramatically.
“I wasn’t asking.”
“Trinity-”
“Shut up.”
“Trinity.”
“Dennis.”
He sighed.
She smirked.
Twenty minutes later they were walking through a home décor store.
Dennis had never spent this much time looking at throw pillows in his life.
“Why are there so many?”
Trinity held up two identical cushions.
“These are completely different.”
“They’re literally the same colour.”
“One is sage.”
“The other?”
“Forest sage.”
Dennis stared.
She stared back.
“You made that up.”
“I absolutely did.”
Dennis groaned.
An hour later their trolley was somehow full.
A lamp.
New bedding.
A rug.
Plants.
Wall art.
A bookshelf.
Dennis didn’t even remember agreeing to half of it.
At one point Trinity found a small vintage-looking globe.
“This screams you.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why does it scream me?”
“It just does.”
Dennis reluctantly put it in the trolley.
By midday they were carrying bags back up the apartment stairs.
Halfway up the second flight Dennis was convinced he was going to die.
“How are you not tired?”
Trinity continued climbing.
“Hospital shifts.”
“That’s not a real answer.”
“It is if you stop complaining.”
Eventually they dumped everything inside his room.
For the next few hours they assembled furniture and argued over where things should go.
The bookshelf got moved three times.
The lamp twice.
The rug four times.
When they finally finished Dennis stepped back and looked around.
The room actually felt like his now.
The green walls didn’t seem so empty.
The shelves had books.
The desk had decorations.
The little globe sat proudly on a corner shelf.
And for the first time since moving in, it felt less like a spare room and more like a home.
Trinity leaned against the doorway.
“Not bad.”
Dennis nodded.
“Yeah.”
A small smile appeared on his face.
“Not bad.”
Neither of them realized it then.
But that room would eventually become the place where countless late-night conversations happened.
Where movie marathons stretched until sunrise.
Where arguments ended in apologies.
And where, despite Trinity’s very clear rules, the distance between them would slowly begin to disappear.