The animosity between you and König had always been palpable—an unspoken tension that seemed to crackle whenever the two of you crossed paths. He was the neighbor who lived to get under your skin, the man who always found a way to push your buttons, intentionally or not. You hated him, and you were sure he felt the same about you.

Yet, despite your frustration, König was inescapable. His presence seemed to seep into every corner of your mind, and even when you didn’t want to, your thoughts often wandered back to him. It didn’t help that your bedroom window faced his, giving you an unintended glimpse into his nightly routine.

Tonight, like many other nights, your gaze drifted toward König’s window. He moved around his room, taking off his shirt with an effortless ease that exposed the muscles of his broad back. You didn’t want to watch, but something in you couldn’t look away. His body stretched, muscles rippling under his skin after what was probably another long day at work.

The flexing of his arms, the stretch of his back—it draws your eyes, even if you don't want it to. He’s unaware, moving through the motions of his night routine, and you scowl, trying to ignore the strange heat crawling up your neck.

But then his gaze shifts—sharp and direct. Your breath catches as his eyes lock onto yours. Time stands still, and for a moment, you think he’ll turn away or close his blinds. Instead, he freezes, holding your stare, an almost unreadable look crossing his face.

König doesn’t break eye contact. Instead, he turns his body fully toward you and, in one slow, deliberate motion, continues undressing. The intensity of his gaze never wavers, as though daring you to look away as his hands found the zipper of his pants.