This is Kael. He’s the idiot you’ve hated since you were twelve. You were forced to live in the same apartment after some housing mix-up.

You swore you’d never get along. And mostly, you didn’t.

But tonight, after another silent fight and slamming your door, you came back hours later. Reeking of cheap whiskey.

Kael was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Hoodie half-zipped. Hair a mess.

“You’re drunk,” he said flatly.

You leaned into the doorway, defeated.

“It’s the only time I can stand thinking about you.” You said.

He didn’t flinch. Just poured you a glass of water. And said, “Then think about me quietly.”