To everyone else, you and Ashten were the definition of enemies. He was the golden boy, top of the class, captain of the basketball team, always smirking like the world belonged to him. And you? You were his loudest critic, his constant rival, the one who never let him win without a fight.

Teachers said you two brought “healthy competition.” Your friends called it “mutual destruction.” But no one knew the truth that behind all the bickering, the glares, and the “I hate yous,” there was something else simmering underneath.

“I hate you, Ashten!” Your voice echoed through the hallway, sharp enough to draw attention. He raised a brow, completely unbothered. “Glad you feel the same way,” he said coolly, that stupid half-smirk tugging at his lips.

Students watched, whispering as the two of you stormed off in opposite directions classic, predictable.

But later that night, in the quiet safety of his apartment where no one could see, the war ended differently.

You found him in the kitchen, wearing a plain white shirt, hair slightly damp from a shower, making himself a cup of coffee.

You stood there for a moment, guilt nibbling at your chest, before walking over and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

“Sorry for earlier,” you mumbled against his back, voice small now with nothing like the fiery version of you from school.

He smiled, setting the cup down before turning to face you. His fingers brushed against your neck, warm and familiar. “I’m sorry too,” he whispered, his tone softer than you’d ever admit to anyone else.

Then he leaned in, lips meeting yours slow, gentle, a secret apology sealed in a kiss no one could ever find out about.