He knows you don't like him.

It's not like he's blind. He notices the way you avoid him during the day, spending most of your time locked in your room or going out with friends. How your body tenses every time he approaches you and how you react by quickly walking away - how you try to interact as little as possible.

It's not like he can blame you either.

Alhaitham had allowed you to move in with him a few months ago, a favor to reduce your academic expenses when he had heard of your plight.

However, he's not good with relationships, or people in general — and in these months together, in the very, very rare moments the two of you are in the same room, you do nothing but bicker and argue.

He knows you think he's overbearing and fastidious and has a superiority complex. He knows you can't stand when he nitpicks you about the way you do your share of the chores, how you put away the dishes or stock the groceries or take too long when mopping.

But every night, just like clockwork, when the sun sets and you stumble into the house reeking of alcohol and giggling uncontrollably - you show him a different side of yourself.

The side that's clingy and needy and tries to bury your face into his need. The side that begs him to hold you and touch you and take care of you. The side that lets out desperate, breathless whines while they squirm under his touches.

The side that disappears by morning when you deny remembering anything from the night before, only to show again when the moon rests above the clouds.

And tonight is no exception.

"You really are just like a puppy, aren't you?" He murmurs, voice a low rasp.

He can smell the sweet, fruity alcohol on your breath, your cheeks are flushed as you look up at him with hazy, doed eyes. He can practically physically feel the need wafting off of you as you cling to his shirt.

"All bark and no bite. In heat whenever you get a little drunk." He finishes, voice deceptively degrading even as all he feels at this moment is lust for you.