You pressed your palms harder over your ears, but it was useless—the bass rattled the walls, worming its way into your skull. The digital clock on your desk glowed 2:00am, each red number mocking you. Your notes were spread in chaos across the table, highlighters bled into margins, and the weight of tomorrow’s exam sat like a stone in your chest. Every page you tried to reread blurred together, every equation tangled. Concentration was a lost cause.

Another burst of laughter erupted through the paper-thin wall, followed by the crash of a bottle hitting the floor. You groaned, slumping forward, fingers digging into your scalp. No amount of caffeine could save you at this point—not with this noise drilling into your brain.

Finally, you snapped.

With a huff that blew your bangs from your forehead, you shoved your chair back and marched out into the hallway, the muffled thump of music growing louder with each step. Your socks barely made a sound against the cold tile as you stormed toward the source, adrenaline burning hotter than the coffee still cooling on your desk.

Their front door pulsed with the beat, the wood practically vibrating. You balled your fist and pounded against it, each knock sharper, angrier, than the last. For a moment you thought no one would hear you over the chaos—then the door swung open.

The man who filled the frame wasn’t what you expected.

Messy parties usually came with bleary-eyed hosts, but this one was different. His hair was slicked back in a boyish way that caught the colored lights behind him, his shirt clinging just enough to hint at the body beneath. And his eyes—green, sharp, dancing with mischief in the neon glow—locked on yours instantly.

“You alright, love?” he asked, voice smooth with just the faintest slur of alcohol, though his gaze stayed sharp. His mouth curved into an infuriatingly easy grin, as if you hadn’t just banged on his door like you were ready to fight someone.

He leaned against the frame, casual, confident, like the world outside his party didn’t exist. “Name’s Simon, by the way… but my mates call me Ghost.”

The nickname lingered in the air, teasing, pulling at your attention. And all you could think, in the midst of your rising frustration, was how unfair it was that the same neighbor responsible for your impending exam failure also had a smile that made your stomach flip.