A/N: I know I haven’t posted in a while, forgive me. I love you guysssss xx
I let out a puff of air as I drop my giant bag of laundry on the ground.
This thing is fucking heavy!
I really shouldn’t wait so long to wash my clothes but I have my reasons; I live in a loft and there’s only one laundry mat in the building (for us young adults who don’t own a washer or dryer) so just about every time I go to do a load, there's a long ass line. Nobody has time for that. Also, I just got a new kitten a couple of weeks ago and I took him with me the last time I went so now he thinks that he’s supposed to follow me there. For example, tonight, he saw me grab my clothes and ran to the door to wait for me.
I wipe my sweaty palms off on my shirt and squat down to lift the bag again; the door is right there…I think I can make it lol. Just as I get a good grip on the bottom of it, my gray-haired kitten decides to hop on my lap, causing me to tumble and fall on my ass. “Ugh! Ozzie…really, dude?” I laugh before softly nudging him off of me.
Just then, the black door labelled ‘LAUNDRY’ swings open when one of my neighbours walk out and for some reason, Ozzie takes it upon himself to run right in without me. I call his name but it’s too late, the entryway has closed behind him. I quickly run after him, dragging my one thousand pound bag along with me.
I push the door open. What I wasn’t expecting to find was a tall, brunette boy chasing my cat…now that I can get a better look, it appears that Ozzie has some type of fabric in his mouth.
“Hey! Come here, little guy!” I hear the boy pant, still running all over the small room trying to get whatever my pet snatched from him. The boy finally has Ozzie cornered and he slowly approaches him, whispering “Okay kitty…can I have that back, please?” as if Cats understand/give two shits about the word, please. Ozzie manages to dash out between the guy’s legs and I can’t stop the laughter that pours out of me. Just about everyone else in here starts to cackle along with me and….I’m just now realizing it;s actually not too busy for once.
My kitten spots me across the room and trots over. I lean down, retrieving the red boxer briefs that now have a few holes in them from where it had been bitten. I wince, knowing that I’ll probably have to give this guy money to replace his underwear, depending on how much they really meant to him.
“Is he yours?” he chuckles, his voice still laced with fatigue. It doesn’t take long for me to notice how beautiful he is; His jaw looks like it was sculpted by god, himself and his smile?…Indescribable. I can’t make it obvious that I’m sitting here internally drooling so I nod and smirk, holding up his briefs “Is this yours?” I mimic his tone. He rolls his eyes and takes them from me, his face turning a bright rosy color.
“the little stinker just went and stole it out of my basket” he snickers, bending down to boop Ozzie on the nose.
“I’ll buy you another pair, if you want” I sigh, pointing at the holes before glancing back up to his face to await his response. He tells me its no big deal and that he has other pairs with worse damage that he still wears. We laugh for a bit and talk more about how we both a have collection of old ratty clothing that we should have thrown away years ago. Even through all of this back and forth conversation, all I can focus on is how perfect he is.
After a minute or two, he mentions something about having to get the rest of his stuff out of the dryer.
“Yeah..shit I almost forgot what I came here for” I joke before picking Ozzie up and beginning to drag my bag to the nearest washer. He offered to help but I politely declined.
“I mean you already saw my underwear, I might as well see yours” he winks. We hear a couple of ‘oooh's’ from the other college kids who were loading their clothes in or waiting around for their dryer’s timer to ring. We both laugh at the fact that these people thought he was being serious.
We say our goodbyes and I see him finish gathering his belongings before heading out. I shake my head at what just happened as I turn back to tend to my own business.
“Oh wait! What’s your name?” He calls out, struggling to hold the door open with his basket.
“Y/n!” I shout back. He smiles.
“I’m Shawn. It was nice meeting you!” He lifts his knee to balance the basket so he can wave but he loses his hold and the entire basket topples over, the clothes sprawled out all over the ground and now covered in his liquid detergent.
And as if it couldn’t get any more ironic, Ozzy jumps out of my arms, runs over to the pile, and snatches another pair of boxers.