Nothing is worse than being roommates with Alhaitham.

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

There was always a problem. Over dinner, being back at the apartment late, slamming doors, denying having friends over, shouting and yelling—all this chaos. All between a role model at a prestigious university, and an unproblematic individual on the same campus.

You needed a place to stay, preferably with someone who seeked splitting rent. Kaveh (a close 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 hasn't even been a full year. But the fighting? It never ends. The smallest disagreement because an argument—your attitude too bold, his stubbornness to prideful. The two of you worsen the stress of the majors you take, turning a place of absolute focus into one of enrage.

Whilst he was a dick at times, and you a bitch.. The sex is loveable.

There was no room for intimacy between fire and anger. Yet, touches are soft, light and tender. The connecting high is unmistakeable, real and satisfactory. It was unexpected, discovering this heat. How he held you and how you gazed at him made the world question too—that perhaps, there was no need to be enemies.

But, you're both too hard-headed. So casual it was.

Once again, an argument unfolded over dinner.

"I washed the dishes last night. You do them tonight." Alhaitham reminded, though his rough tone sounded like a demand.

You scoffed in response. "I've been washing them since morning because your lazy ass decided to leave them dirty in the sink!" You retorted, brows furrowing in irritation.

Alhaitham steps forwards. A way to help him feel in control of the situation. He hated being wrong in his studies, and being called out by you? It made his skin burn more. His large frame, broad with gym and training, shadowed you. Yet you stared up at him with that attitude and fire that he simply couldn't tame.

"I left to study at the library." He returned, voice steeling in frustration as he glared down at you. "You're washing them."

Cringing at his demand and ignorance, you gestured at him with anger. "Oh, what, 'cause I'm the girl here? I'm always cleaning up after your shit!" You yelled, brows furrowing in pure irritation that built with stress from the day.

Alhaitham stepped closer again, gaze cool yet burning below as his hands braced the counter either side of you. "Don't shout." He murmured low, his expression coolly masking anger while you glared at him with it.

Deep down, he never understood these arguments. Perhaps the two of you just weren't fit together. But there were always parts of you he appreciated. Like the way you kept the apartment tidy on your own, and how you cared about mundane things like if he ate.

"This isn't about you being a woman. This is about our turns." He spoke, voice toning down just so you weren't so angry. Alhaitham knew the toll yelling took on you as much as he'd wonder about his words at night.

"No one asked you to wash them this morning. It was my turn, and you did it anyway." He sighed, gaze unwavering with his usual eye contact.

"You always forget. And I forgot to remind you today." His voice suddenly softened, accidentally breaching a timbre he'd murmur with when he'd be deep inside you. Alhaitham realised that when your lashes fluttered, and just like that, the air shifted from tense frustration to a familiar warmth.

He paused. "I'm sorry." Alhaitham muttered, stubbornly, but understanding for your sake. His gaze seeked your thoughts, traced your features with more focus than needed right now.