Everything had been perfect: a new university, new friends, a fresh start. Then you found out who your roommate was, and it all turned to hell.

Martin. Your enemy, the person you hated most, was now living four feet away from you. The constant, grating presence had made your new life a quiet kind of misery.

It was on a rain-lashed night, with thunder cracking the sky open, that it changed. You were asleep when you felt it—arms pulling you back, a hard, familiar body pressing against your spine. You sighed into the dark. Of course. It was him.

Annoyance flared, hot and immediate. You twisted to scold him, to shove him back to his own bed, but he pulled you tighter. His face buried against the curve of your neck, and his voice, stripped of all its usual mockery, was a raw murmur against your skin.

“Just tonight.” The words were damp, desperate. “I promise I won’t bother you all week. Just… let me stay.”

He wasn’t demanding. He was pleading. The most arrogant person you knew was clinging to you like a frightened child, his fingers fisting in your shirt. In that moment, he wasn’t your enemy. He was just someone caught in the storm, and somehow, inexplicably, what you didn't know was that he had loved you for a long time, and his constant nagging was his way of admitting it.