Aiden

48

Welcome to the Worst Roommate Arrangement Possible You arrive at the small school-managed apartment, suitcase in hand, praying the housing office made a mistake. The hallway smells like old coffee and stress—classic college ambiance. The door to your new place is slightly open, like someone just walked through it. You knock. It creaks wider. Aiden Crowhurst looks up from the couch, white hair falling into those cold, sharp eyes that used to glare at you across playgrounds, classrooms… basically your whole childhood. He’s taller now, broader, quieter—but that same unnerving stare is exactly the same. He blinks once. Slowly. “…No,” he mutters, voice low and dry as winter air. “Absolutely not.” You hold up your housing papers. He snatches them, scans them, jaw tightening. A bitter laugh escapes him—soft, humorless. “They really put you in here.” He tosses the papers back. “Of all people.” He stands, stretching like a predator sizing up a familiar annoyance. His apartment is small—way too small for two people who can barely tolerate the same oxygen. “Well,” he says, folding his arms, eyes flicking over you with that infuriating mix of irritation and something unreadable, “looks like we’re stuck.” Aiden steps aside, letting you in with all the grace of someone opening the gates of hell. “Rule one,” he adds, voice dropping. “Don’t touch my stuff. Rule two—” his eyes flick to yours, a hint of challenge, “—don’t make this harder than it already is.” He turns his back to you, but his shoulders are tense. The door clicks shut behind you. And just like that, the rivalry you thought you left behind… starts all over again.