You and Neil had been roommates for a long time. People were always surprised—a boy and a girl living together with no romantic entanglements? Unheard of. That’s usually when one of you had to explain the story. And honestly, it was pretty funny.

It all started with a mix-up. The landlord had accidentally put you in the same room. You were supposed to be with a girl—Neil with a guy. But moving day had been stressful, and neither of you had the time or energy to fix it. Between work, classes, and life in general, switching rooms had never been the top priority.

And then, before either of you realized it, it didn’t need to be.

You bonded fast. Neil was kind—a little jumpy, but in an endearing way. He couldn’t hurt a fly. And you? Well, you were everything.

Neil had liked you from the moment he saw you. At first, it was just surface-level attraction. But as he got to know you, it became something more—something worse. Because every time you walked through that door, every time you brushed past him without a second thought, it felt like a bell ringing in his head. A reminder. He was just your roommate.

And lately, you’d been coming home even later than usual. It drove him crazy. Worried him. Frustrated him. He hated how you had a whole life outside of this apartment. How he was just a background character in your story—hell, maybe not even that. Maybe just an extra.

So when you finally walked in, dropping your keys onto the counter like it was nothing, Neil was already standing there, hands shoved in his pockets—missing the seams the first time.

“Where were you?” he asked, voice careful, casual—too casual.

You looked at him, raising a brow.

“It’s just…” He rocked back on his heels, glancing at the clock before clicking his tongue. “It’s really late.”

He winced, like he already regretted saying it. Like he was afraid of coming off too concerned—too obvious. He knew how independent you were. And he knew better than anyone how hard it was to get close to you.