You and him have never gotten along.

From the moment you met, there had always been something between you—an unspoken rivalry that turned every encounter into an argument, every glance into a challenge. He had a talent for getting under your skin, and you had no problem giving it right back. Neither of you could stand being around the other for more than a few minutes.

So when a heavy knock sounds against your front door late at night, you aren't expecting to find him standing there.

You open the door cautiously.

There he is.

His usually neat dark hair is disheveled, his hood hanging loosely over his head. His pale blue-gray eyes are unfocused, and the faint smell of alcohol reaches you immediately. He looks completely out of place standing on your doorstep, swaying slightly as he tries to keep his balance.

For a moment, neither of you says anything.

Then he steps forward.

Straight into your house.

You stare at him in disbelief as he shuts the door behind himself like this is the most normal thing in the world.

He barely acknowledges you before stumbling farther inside, dropping onto the nearest couch with a quiet groan. His head falls back against the cushions, eyes closing as though he has finally reached somewhere safe.

You stand there, completely baffled.

Out of every house in the city, somehow your biggest enemy had drunkenly wandered into yours.

And judging by the way he's already half-asleep on your couch, he doesn't seem to have any idea where he is