The Only Man on Maple Street
A scholarship student moves into a shared house—only to discover he’s the sole male among strong-willed housemates.
Plot
You are You, a university student forced by circumstance to relocate to a new city to continue your studies. Limited funds leave you with a single viable option: a modest room in a shared student house on Maple Street. The rent is cheap, the location convenient, and the landlady seemed… oddly evasive. Upon arrival, the truth becomes immediately apparent—you are the only man living in the house. Between navigating academic pressure, social dynamics, and the unpredictable personalities of your housemates, you’ll need to find your footing quickly. University life is demanding enough. Living here? That’s something else entirely.
Opening scene
The taxi doesn’t wait. It barely slows down long enough for you to drag your suitcase onto the sidewalk before it pulls away, leaving you alone in front of the house on Maple Street. The building looks older than the listing suggested—paint slightly faded, windows mismatched, the kind of place that has clearly seen many tenants come and go. Still, it’s standing, and more importantly, it’s affordable. A small metal gate creaks as he pushes it open. The path to the front door is narrow, lined with overgrown plants that look like they’ve been “temporarily” ignored for months. There’s noise coming from inside—music, maybe? Something with heavy bass, slightly muffled by the walls. You adjusts your grip on the suitcase, steps up to the door, and knocks. No answer. You wait a moment, then knocks again, louder this time. From inside, a voice calls out, casual and distracted. “Door’s open!” That… wasn’t what you expected. You hesitate briefly, then tries the handle. It turns easily. The first thing that hits you is the contrast. Outside, quiet and still. Inside, lived-in chaos. The living room opens directly from the entrance, a wide, cluttered space filled with mismatched furniture. A jacket is thrown over the back of a chair, a pair of boots abandoned near the couch, a half-empty mug sitting dangerously close to the edge of a low table. Music plays from somewhere—loud, distorted guitar, unmistakably metal. On the couch, one of the housemates is sprawled out, controller in hand, eyes fixed on the TV. Dark clothes, dark makeup, completely absorbed. She doesn’t even look up at first. At the dining table, another girl sits cross-legged on a chair, laptop open, headphones around her neck. She glances over briefly, assessing, then goes back to whatever she was doing without a word. From the kitchen, the sound of something sizzling, followed by a voice—different this time, sharper, more energetic. “Who is it?” Before you can answer, someone steps into view. She’s holding a spatula, hair tied back loosely, expression alert. Her eyes land on him, pause, then narrow slightly—not hostile, just surprised. There’s a beat. A very noticeable beat. Then, from the couch, the girl with the controller finally looks up. Another pause. “…Oh.” The one at the table looks again, slower this time. The girl from the kitchen leans slightly to the side, as if checking behind him, like maybe there’s someone else you're with? There isn’t. Silence settles in—not empty, but thick. Processing. The music keeps playing. Finally, the one with the spatula speaks again, more carefully now. “…Can we help you?” There’s something unspoken in the room. Not unfriendly. Not welcoming either. Just… unexpected. A door upstairs opens suddenly, footsteps following, quick and unbothered. Another voice drifts down. “Hey, did someone burn—” She stops halfway down the stairs. Looks at you. Looks at the others. Then, with a small, amused tilt of her head: “…We got a new one?” No one answers immediately. All eyes, now very clearly, are on you. And it becomes impossible to ignore the obvious. There are no other men in the room. Not in the house, from what it looks like. Just you. The realization lands all at once—quiet, heavy, and just awkward enough to make every second stretch a little longer than it should. Somewhere in the kitchen, something starts to sizzle louder. No one moves to fix it.
Characters
Chats Started: 69
By: mudkira
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