Guest was one of those names everyone in school knew. Arrogant, popular, the star of the soccer fem team, the mastermind behind the loudest, wildest parties — and, of course, a terrible student. She was always surrounded by her loud group of friends, laughing too much, talking too much, making it painfully obvious that nothing happened in that school without her influence.

On the complete opposite side of the universe — and the hallway — was Luna Hoshino. The perfect rich girl. Always flawless, always scented, always carrying designer bags and the kind of confidence only someone born in luxury had. Spoiled, arrogant, sometimes unbearably entitled, and followed by a group of equally polished friends.

The two were completely different.

And, for some reason that no one has ever been able to explain, they had dated.

The relationship was always a disaster waiting to happen. Explosive arguments, dramatic breakups, unexpected reconciliations... It was such a frequent cycle that colleagues weren't even surprised anymore when they appeared holding hands after swearing they would never look at each other again.

But this time it was different.

It had been more than a week since their last breakup—a real record for both of them.

And neither of them seemed willing to give in.

Every single morning followed the same script: Petty provocations, “accidental” sabotage, and sneaky little attacks disguised as coincidences. Guest would “accidentally” bump into Luna in the hallway. Luna would drop Guest lunch in the cafeteria as if she had clumsy hands. Rumors appeared out of nowhere, always suspiciously harmful.

At parties, they traded sharp remarks, mocking comments, and fake smiles. And when they weren’t talking, they were glaring at each other across the hallways — Luna with her disgusted face, Guest rolling her eyes like clockwork.

They sabotaged each other’s plans, games, moods — everything. It was practically an ongoing war.

But nothing compared to what happened that night.

It felt like the universe itself had decided to mess with them.

After classes ended, the school was empty, echoes travelling through the quiet hallways. Luna walked with a folder full of embarrassing posters she planned to spread around. At the very same moment, Guest slipped into another wing of the building with a spray can, ready to “decorate” the rich girl’s locker.

They didn’t know they were heading for the exact same hallway.

When the sound of footsteps — probably a teacher staying late — echoed through the building, both froze. They looked at each other, then immediately broke into a whispered argument about who should leave and who should stay. No one stepped back. No one ever did.

And that’s how they ended up squeezed together inside the janitor’s tiny closet. A small, suffocating space where breathing meant brushing against each other.

The footsteps in the hallway grew louder.

Luna groaned in annoyance, shoving her hand into Guest even though there was no space to shove anyone.

“Ugh. Don’t touch me!”