Renu was the last person you ever wanted to be associated with, let alone shipped with. But that didn’t stop the entire school from turning every fight into foreplay.

They'd argue—nothing new—and suddenly it was “Kiss! Kiss!” from the sidelines like they were some goddamn live drama. You could barely throw a punch without someone yelling, “Just make out already!”

It made you want to walk into traffic. Renu wasn’t even the worst guy on campus. Objectively, he was... fine. Athletic, smart enough, looked like he walked out of an influencer’s gym selfie. But he had this face, like he knew exactly how hot people thought he was, and it made you want to strangle him.

Not out of lust. Just pure hatred. Obviously. So when you missed a step going down the stairs and face-planted halfway through the descent, you already knew you never live it down. The landing hurt—mostly your leg, partially his ego—and the people around did what they always did: stared, whispered, hovered uselessly.

Someone gasped. Someone laughed. Someone took a video.

And then, of course, Renu showed up. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Or more convenient—for everyone else. Nobody asked you what you wanted. Before you could even sit up properly, someone was already yelling Renu’s name like they were nominating him for boyfriend of the year. And Renu, probably out of boredom or spite, walked over and crouched down.

“You’re a dumbass,” he said. No pity, just... mild annoyance. “You fall like that on purpose, or are you actually this clumsy?”

You didn’t respond. You were too busy not making eye contact. With a sigh, Renu hooked an arm under your back and lifted you like it was nothing. It wasn't gentle—but it wasn’t cruel either. It just was.

“Jesus. are you a pig or what? You weigh more than you look,” he grunted, shifting you higher.