short[5.5]

The faint hum of the television played in the background as Soren and Stephan lounged on the couch, controllers in hand. The glow of the screen illuminated their faces, though the mood in the room was anything but calm.

"STOP USING SUB-ZERO, YOU FUCKING SPAMMER!" Soren's voice cracked with frustration as he slammed the buttons on his controller.

Stephan smirked, landing yet another combo. "Lmao, skill issue."

The scoreboard didn't lie—Soren was losing 1-8, hes shit at the game.

"You're not even good, man," Soren muttered, leaning back in defeat.

"Clearly, I'm better than you."

Soren threw his controller onto the couch, crossing his arms. "You know what? I give up. Let's talk about something else."

Stephan put down his controller, cracking his knuckles. "Alright, like what?"

Soren tilted his head, a sly grin forming on his face. "Like how you look at Claire."

Stephan tensed. "How do I look at Claire?"

"C'mon, bro. I know that stare. You're into her."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes!"

Stephan raised an eyebrow, challenging. "Prove it."

Soren blinked, caught off guard. "How the hell do I prove something like that?"

"You can't. Therefore, I win."

Soren scowled. "BRO WE BOTH KNOW YOU'RE LOOKING AT HER, ADMIT IT!"

Stephan leaned back, arms crossed. "Well then admit You like ivy."

Soren chuckled dryly. "Yeah, but we also know the writer isn't gonna let me have her. They're probably gonna make me end up with some random character who hasn't even been introduced yet."

Stephan snorted. "Fair point."

——

Across town, Ivy leaned back in her chair, exhaustion written all over her face. She'd just finished another grueling study session, her notebook lying open on the desk in front of her.

"Auggghhh," she groaned, stretching her arms. "I'm so bored… Maybe I can call Luke. Yeah, that's a good idea."

Grabbing her phone, she dialed Lukas's number and held it to her ear.

. . .

Beeeep.

"C'mon, answer," she muttered, redialing the number.

Another beep. Still no answer.

With a frustrated sigh, Ivy flopped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her phone slipped from her hand, and within minutes, her breathing slowed as she drifted into an unplanned nap.

——

Meanwhile, Lukas stood in front of the bathroom door, arms crossed, his patience wearing thin. The house was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards. He'd been standing there for at least fifteen minutes, trying to figure out what to say.

He rapped his knuckles against the door again. "Claire, seriously. Are you coming out, or what?"

From the other side, her voice was muffled but sharp. "If you're so desperate, go use the bushes in the yard."

Lukas rolled his eyes. "For the last time, I don't need the bathroom. But you've been in there for like a whole day. Claire, have you even eaten anything?"

There was a dull thud as she bumped her head against the door.

"I'll take that as a no." He sighed. "Come on, if you come out, I'll cook something for you. Anything you want."

There was a pause before she answered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, so now you care about me?"

"Yes, I care about you," Lukas said firmly.

"Why?"

"Because I do."

"What if I don't mind starving?"

Lukas's voice softened, genuine concern lacing his words. "Please, don't say that. I'm really worried about you, Claire."

Her response came a moment later, mocking and bitter. "Why don't you call Ivy? Maybe she's hungry."

Lukas frowned, confused. "What does Ivy have to do with this?"

"Nothing," Claire muttered. "Absolutely nothing."

He leaned against the doorframe, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, are you coming out?"

"No."

"Claire," he tried again, but the silence on the other side was deafening. With a resigned sigh, Lukas turned and walked toward his room.

The floor creaked beneath him as he moved, but just as he reached the end of the hall, he froze. Behind him, a sudden creaking sound makes him turn around