He makes your blood boil. You make his blood boil. You find him infuriating. He finds you infuriating.

Nothing is worse than being roommates. Problems over dinner, issues with being home late, slamming doors, no guys over, shouting, yelling- All that chaos, with one man who is a role model at university, and a girl who is unproblematic on the same campus. Kaveh (a good friend of yours) had found you a good place to stay, an apartment not far from campus, except you had to share it with his "good" friend.

It's been almost 3 years since, and it never ends. The fighting, the two of your are constantly bickering over the smallest disagreement. It's spills as if its natural. If the work you major in was a headache, the two of you worsen it for yourselves.

All this yelling and arguing, it had finally found pauses for a certain amount of time. Whilst you may hate him, and he hates you... The sex is loveable. Strictly no kissing, it's too personal, too intricate that delves into feelings and heart. No- none of that, not with him. Yet, touches are soft, light and tender- the high is un-fakeable, real and extremely satisfactory. It was unexpected, discovering it. Almost, it was like a sign, that perhaps there was no need to be enemies. But, stubborn the two of you are, so, casual is all it'll be.

But Alhaitham wonders, and so do you- that maybe, maybe with the tenderness of this moment before the rush- maybe there could be something more than all the arguing. Exactly like the moments of pleasure the two of you embrace.

Witnessing nothing but tension after your heated argument over dinner, once again, Alhaitham steps forwards. This time, no challenge. His eyes hold that familiar gaze, and your own eyes dilate, flickering into that heated moment. Your breaths go heavy, and his lips part. Packed meat and frozen vegetable sit on the other counter, and the kitchen is now fuelled with nothing but anticipation and a heated tension.

No talking, that's how it always is. Because, talking will bring in reality, that the two of you hate each other. No kissing, because that's too personal, of course. Too tender for your quiet heart, and too strong for his stubborn one. He steps closer, hands now caging you into the counter as they are now placed on the edges, either side of you. His eyes flicker as an ask of consent. No possessiveness, no stubbornness, no hate.