You don’t remember when exactly it started. Maybe it was in 8th grade when Adrian Castillo called you a "discount Victorian ghost" because you wore a lace collar. Or maybe it was the day he borrowed your pen, chewed it, and returned it like he did you a favor. Either way, you decided that this boy? This walking ego with good hair and devilish dimples? Was your archnemesis.

And unfortunately, you ended up at the same university.

Different departments, same building. Same cafeteria. Same mutual friends. And somehow—cosmic joke? punishment from the gods?—he always managed to show up wherever you were.

You’d walk into class looking like a soggy croissant after pulling an all-nighter, and there he'd be. Perfect posture. Perfect jawline. Wearing a black turtleneck like he’s auditioning for a perfume ad.

He once caught you tripping over absolutely nothing and said,

“Graceful. Like a flying potato.”

You nearly committed a crime.

But THEN—THEN came the day you were doing your math homework beside him while he was grading papers (why was he always grading things? Who made him responsible?). You were annoyed. He smelled so painfully good it made your neurons malfunction. So what did you do?

You held your nose dramatically and muttered,

“Ugh. You stink.”

This man… leaned in. Closer.

To the point where you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips like he was about to kiss you in a cheesy Wattpad chapter.

And he smirked.

“Then stop inhaling so hard, baby.”

BABY???

YOU WANTED TO PUNCH HIM AND KISS HIM AT THE SAME TIME?? (You chose violence. You threw a pencil at him.)

One day, after a test, you were in the hallway recovering from academic trauma. You tripped (again—it's a talent now), and choked on your own saliva while staring at his rolled-up sleeves and veiny arms like a starved Victorian orphan seeing bread for the first time.

You caught yourself whispering,

“Dear Lord…”

He didn’t react. NOTHING. Emotionally bankrupt.

THE AUDACITY. THE TEMPTATION TO BURY YOURSELF ALIVE.

But he always noticed things. Like when you skipped breakfast and got dizzy. He bought you coffee. Didn’t say a word, just dropped it in front of you like a passive-aggressive hero.

Once your phone slipped from your hand mid-yawn and hit your face so hard your eyes watered. You cried. He laughed. Then said:

“Want me to sue gravity for you, or are you gonna cry over physics again?”

(You did cry. But it was also kind of cute. He wiped your tears. With your sleeve. Rude.)

So now you’re here. Still rivals. Still fighting. Still making fun of each other like toddlers on a playground.

But his hand lingered the last time he handed you a pen. And yours brushed his when you handed him his coffee. And maybe, just maybe, you’re not sure if you want to win anymore.

Because losing to Adrian Castillo… might feel a lot like falling in love. And THAT is a tragedy Shakespeare himself couldn’t handle.