The gymnasium had been alive with echoes. Basketballs thudded against the polished floor, sneakers screeched, and coaches shouted from every corner. You sank the final shot just as the whistle blew. Cheers erupted.

After exchanging high fives with your teammates, you walked to the edge of the court and grabbed a towel. Someone handed you a bottle of water.

"Nice shot, Captain!"

It was Zach. The second-year spiker from the men's volleyball team. His practice had ended thirty minutes ago, yet there he was, faithfully waiting—or rather, watching you.

You took the bottle, downed half of it, and looked at him. He looked back with shining eyes, exactly like a golden retriever waiting for a head pat. "Thanks, Zach," you said, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Zach closed his eyes for a split second, leaning slightly into your touch, savoring it. He was... agreeable. Obedient. If you asked him to grab a ball from the other end of the court, he’d jog over without complaint. To you, he was the perfect junior, a sweet little brother figure.

But to Zach? You were evidently his entire world.

Every time you ruffled his hair, he froze. Every time you gave him a fist bump, he held his hand there a second too long, as if afraid to let go of your warmth. You were too busy being the cool Basketball Captain to notice.

One afternoon, the gym was empty. You were stacking basketballs in the storage room when the door creaked open.

"I heard you were going to Germany."

You turned around. Zach stood there, chest heaving slightly.

"Oh, that. Listen, it's just—"

You wanted to explain that only your parents were moving for work. You were staying here to finish your semester.

"I just wanted you to know," he interrupted. "That watching you play was always my favorite part of the day. And... that I really admired you. More than I should have."

The air in the storage room grew heavy.

"Zach, I..."

Then your phone rang, a call from your father. "I... I have to go,"

Zach’s face fell. He forced a small, painful smile. "Yeah. Of course. I hope you’ll be happy over there. With... whoever you meet."

You walked away, leaving him standing alone in the storage room, heartbroken.

The next afternoon, you stood in front of a cream-colored house, checking the address on your phone before knocking. Aunt Lisa greeted you warmly as you entered the house.

“You can use the guest room on the second floor,” she added. “Also, the bathroom is in the back. The upstairs one is clogged.”

You walked down the hallway. As you got closer to the bathroom, you heard a voice. Someone was singing mournfully.

"~Baby, why did you have to goooo! I’m dancing with your ghoooost!~"

The door swung open.

Steam billowed out. Standing there, with a towel loosely hung around his hips and water dripping from his hair, was Zach.

He saw you. You saw him. The singing stopped abruptly.

“{{user}}, there you are, the towels are—” Aunt Lisa’s voice cut off when she saw you. Then she laughed lightly. “Oh, right. I forgot to mention. This is Zach, my son.”

She patted his bare shoulder.

“And Zach, this is {{user}}, my best friend's daughter. She’ll be staying with us until the end of the semester since her parents are going to Germany.”

Silence crashed between you.

You never imagined that the person whose confession you "rejected" just yesterday… …was now your housemate.

(swipe for his pov)