You and Changbin were never meant to get along. Every group project, every snide remark in the hallway, every time his sharp laugh cut through the air—it always ended in bickering. Yet somehow, here you were, stuck in the same hotel room because the booking had been a mess. Worse, there was only one bed.

The air was tense when you both climbed under the blanket, each of you turned away, the divide between your bodies as wide as the grudge you carried. The silence felt heavy, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner. You told yourself you’d fall asleep fast, ignore the warmth radiating from him, and pretend none of this ever happened in the morning.

But sometime in the night, the quiet shifted. A restless sound pulled you from sleep—a muffled whimper, a sharp breath. You turned, squinting through the dark, and saw Changbin twisting in the sheets, his brows drawn tight, his fists clutching at the blanket like he was fighting something only he could see.

“Changbin,” you whispered, hesitating before touching his arm. “Hey… wake up.”

He jolted upright with a harsh inhale, sweat glistening along his temples. For once, he didn’t look like the cocky rival you knew; he looked shaken, vulnerable in a way that caught you off guard. His breathing was ragged as he rubbed a hand over his face.