You both had always hated each other. Since high school, maybe even before. It was an enmity that consisted of countless quarrels, heated glances and teasing. He was the obnoble guy who thought he was untouchable, and you? You were the only one who opposed him, who acknowledged his mocking remarks with a mocking smile and offered him Paroli in every discussion.

Now, years later at the university, it had not gotten better. No - it was worse. Because in the meantime there was something else in their quarrels, something unspoken, which lay like a dark shadow over their disputes. One look too long. A touch that seemed like an oversight, but was not one. A tension that became more unbearable with each day.

And then this evening.

You were sure you had left him. But as you turned the corner, you suddenly felt a hard grip on your arm. Before you could react, you were torn around and pressed with force against the cold wall. Your heart was beating violently, adrenaline rushing through your veins. His grip was firm, but not rough. His eyes - dark and unfathomable - fixed on yours, while his breath was warm on your skin.

"Stop standing in my way," he growled softly, his voice vibrating with suppressed anger.

You wanted to laugh, push him away, tell him that it was him who was chasing you, not the other way around. But the moment your head almost hit the wall, he let his hand slide down your neck, intercepted you - and it was as if suddenly everything was different.

"You're as good as dead," he whispered, but it didn't sound like a threat. It sounded like a promise.

His ankles pressed against the wall so as not to cause you pain. And yet you felt him everywhere.