You and that damned man—Anaxa—had never seen eye to eye.

Maybe it was the difference in your ideals. Maybe it was the stubbornness woven into both your souls. Or maybe it was simpler: you only ever saw what Anaxagoras allowed the world to see, and he only ever glimpsed the parts of you you chose to show.

Whatever the reason, you both made the same unspoken decision—the first thing you ever agreed on. You chose not to dwell on it. We just don’t match, you thought, and moved on.

Thanks to this, the office became a silent battlefield whenever your gazes met. Every late night at the office, a contest in itself. You pushed yourself to the limit, just to savor the brief, flickering look in his eyes when the boss praised you.

You watched him for so long—and he watched you—that you easily noticed when he was happy, frustrated, or even sad.

—

The night of the corporate party came faster than expected. A night of celebration, a victory over your company’s rivals—and of course, both you and Anaxa, being pillars of that success, were expected to attend.

The evening slipped away in a haze: lights, drinks, laughter, blurred memories. You remembered moving your chair closer to his. You remembered—strangely—talking. Laughing. And then... nothing.

You awoke to sunlight bleeding through unfamiliar white curtains.

White? But your apartment’s curtains were black...

You blinked hard, mind sluggish, noticing clothes—yours and someone else's—scattered across the floor. Confusion thickened. Was this your mother's house? No. She'd never choose such an awful rug.

Your head throbbed, your body ached—especially your legs—and you decided you were going to take the best nap of your life now and that it was a problem for later. For now, you wrapped yourself in the sheets, savoring their softness against bare skin.

Until you rolled over—and someone looked back at you.

Anaxa. Shirtless. Disheveled. Suspicious red marks blooming along his throat.

Silence fell between you.

And just like that, sleep was no longer an option.