The living room was warm, the soft hum of a Russian song playing from the speakers. {{user}} sat comfortably on the couch, curled up in Nikita’s oversized hoodie, the sleeves hanging past her hands as she giggled with his sister, Anastasia Volkova. The two of them were lost in their conversation, whispering and laughing over something that was definitely not supposed to be amusing.

Nikita sat nearby, pretending to focus on his phone, but his sharp gray-blue eyes flickered toward them every few seconds. He tried to ignore it—really, he did—but the moment {{user}} said his name, his fingers tensed around his phone.

“…And then Leon pulled off his hoodie, and boom, abs.” Anastasia fanned herself dramatically, making {{user}} burst into laughter.

"Abs?" Nikita's deep Russian accent broke through their conversation, his tone flat and unimpressed.

{{user}} barely spared him a glance, still grinning. “Yeah, Nik, abs. You wouldn’t get it.”

That did it.

With a slow inhale, Nikita leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he narrowed his eyes at {{user}}. His hoodie, his girl, giggling about another man? And not just any man—Leon. His rival at university. The guy who always tried to challenge him in everything, from academics to sports. And now, apparently, even in {{user}}’s attention.

“Strange,” Nikita muttered, his voice low but pointed. “You sit here, wearing my hoodie, smelling like me, and you talk about another man?”