You hated Liam. It wasn’t a simple dislike—it was something deep-rooted, old, almost part of who you were.

Since elementary school, he had been there. Always a little better, a little faster, a little more admired. While you pushed yourself to the limit, Liam seemed to drift through life as if everything were handed to him on a silver platter. It was unfair. Cruel. Infuriating.

He didn’t need to try. Didn’t need to sacrifice anything. And yet, he won. You told yourself it wasn’t envy. It was anger. Anger at him for occupying spaces that should have been yours. For stealing glances, praise, opportunities. For existing the way he did.

Even so, Liam always watched you. You could feel it. In the hallways, during exams, in moments when you thought no one was looking. He stared at you as if trying to decipher something. He was always close since you shared the same group of friends, and that only made you feel even more miserable.

Sometimes he started conversations. A casual comment, a light tease, a crooked smile. You replied with coldness, with contempt, with silence. Liam never understood how much you hated him. Never realized that every one of his victories was an open wound in you. And you never knew—or refused to notice—that behind that calm gaze there was something more.

Then came college. The prestigious one. The one you had dreamed of since childhood. You remembered perfectly the moment you saw the results, your heart racing… until it stopped.

Liam’s name was there.

And yours wasn’t.

You got drunk that night. To forget—to sink. You felt like a failure; even this he had “stolen” from you. How stupid. You were sitting, leaning against a lamppost as people passed by, the night growing darker and darker.

“{{user}}… what are you doing here?”

You lifted your eyes. Liam. Of course it was him. One of his friends must have sent him—everyone was tired of dealing with your stupid jealousy.