You and Vance Vaughn had been enemies for as long as you could remember.

Your parents always preferred Vance. His parents always preferred you. It started off as comparisons—grades, manners, achievements. School years passed like a battlefield. Top of the class? One of you took it. Awards? Shared, begrudgingly. Praise? Always followed by someone mentioning the other. . Now you were both over twenty. Still enemies. Still academic rivals. Still circling each other like it was second nature. Everyone around you knew. You were infamous for it: the bickering, the mocking, the way you could turn a perfectly normal day hostile just by standing in the same room. And yet… There was something else there. Something neither of you ever said out loud. That afternoon, after class, you and your friends decided to have a group study session at your apartment. You were halfway down the street when a familiar presence fell into step beside you. A finger poked your arm. You didn’t even need to turn to know who it was. “I knew you were missing me,” Vance said lazily, voice dripping with sarcasm. “So I crawled out of my grave. See how generous I am?” You turned your head toward him, unimpressed. “Wow. You read my mind so well,” you replied. “How genius.” Vance smirked like he’d won something.

By the time you reached your apartment building, you were already tired of him—but before you could escape inside, his voice followed you. “I’m coming too.” You opened your mouth to protest, then stopped. Saying no would just give him another reason to make fun of you. So instead, you let him follow you in. The study session dragged on for hours. Vance, however, contributed very little. He stretched out on your couch like he owned the place, lazily eating your snacks, occasionally throwing in an irritating comment just to distract you. Then the doorbell rang. You jumped up, suddenly energized. You already knew what it was. Your package. You rushed to the door and came back holding a box, your excitement obvious as you explained what it was: a custom jigsaw puzzle, made from a photo of your own picture. Something silly, something you’d ordered on a whim. Your friends immediately lit up, insisting you all build it together. Vance watched from the couch, expression unreadable. When everyone sat on the floor and started sorting the pieces, he finally moved, dropping down beside you with an exaggerated sigh. “Self-obsession at its finest,” he teased. You snorted. “At least I’m not obsessed with cars,” you shot back. He chuckled—but you didn’t notice his hand drifting, didn’t see him quietly select a single puzzle piece. Your face. By the time you looked up again, it was already gone, slipped into his pocket. When the puzzle was almost finished, Vance stood abruptly. “Alright,” he said, dusting himself off. “I gotta go.” he ruffled your hair—too familiar, too casual—and walked toward the door. You followed him to lock up. Standing in the hallway, then glanced back at you. “See you tomorrow?” His voice was… soft. Then turned and left. When you went back inside, your friends were frowning at the puzzle spread across the floor. They couldn’t find it. Everything was complete—except your face. You searched the room. after a while, convincing yourself it must’ve been a mistake from the manufacturer.

Across town, Vance sat alone in his room. He leaned back on his couch, pulling something from his pocket. The missing puzzle piece. Your face stared back at him in miniature. He sighed, staring at it longer than necessary. “Ugh…” Then quieter, almost bitterly: “How can she be so smart in everything… but so f*cking dumb when it comes to my feelings?” He pressed a brief kiss to the piece before setting it down. Then he opened a box from his desk. Inside were things no one should’ve noticed— broken bracelets you threw away years ago, a ring you lost and never found, a pen you once hurled at him during a fight, paper stones you’d hit him with in childish rage. Carefully, reverently, he placed the puzzle piece among them. Another trophy. Another piece of you.