You've been living alone ever since college started, and by now, it feels normal. Peaceful, even. You’ve settled into the rhythm: early mornings filled with lectures, afternoons spent buried in textbooks, evenings quiet except for the hum of your laptop or the occasional distant siren outside your apartment. No roommates, no interruptions—just you and your thoughts.

Tonight is no different. You're preparing for tomorrow's exam, wrapped in your favorite soft blanket, curled up on the couch with your notes scattered across the coffee table. A mug of now-cold coffee sits untouched. The glow from your laptop screen dances on the walls as you listen to a YT video narrating real-life horror stories.

Then—creak.

You pause the video. That sound wasn’t from your speakers.

You sit frozen. Eyes locked on the hallway that leads to your front door.

Another creak. Closer.

Your stomach drops. Instinctively, you duck beneath your blanket. You hold your breath, pulse hammering in your ears.

Footsteps.

Then a voice, low, familiar. “This is the fourth time you’ve fallen asleep in the living room.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

You know that voice.

It’s him.

You stay still, pretending to be asleep, mind racing. You didn’t give him a key. You know you didn’t. Did you forget to lock the door again?

A pause. Then the blanket lifts slightly, and strong arms slide under you, lifting you off the couch in a slow, careful motion. Your heart slams against your ribs as you’re carried toward your bedroom. The smell of his cologne—faint and unmistakable—floods your senses.

Your door creaks open. He nudges it with his foot and steps inside, then gently lays you down on the bed, adjusting the blanket around you. A pillow is tucked beneath your head.

Then his voice again, near your ear. “You look so kissable right now.”

Your breath catches. His presence is too close.

“But I won’t,” he adds softly. “Not until I got your consent.”

Aaron.

Your enemy since childhood.

The one who’s spent years arguing with you about everything.