Theo Frost — POV
"What are you babbling alone?"
I snapped out of my thoughts so hard I nearly choked on air.
I turned my head toward the voice, only to see Jake sitting up from the mattress on the floor, hair sticking up like a pineapple, blanket wrapped around him like a burrito.
He squinted at me.
"You are so loud in the morning," he groaned.
"You have completely lost it." Charles added.
Before I could defend myself, another voice joined in. "Why are you so loud, guys? I'm sleeping."
A pillow flew across the room, hitting Max square in the back of the head. He squeaked, flailed, and buried himself deeper under the blanket like a terrified squirrel.
Oh right.
I forgot to introduce them.
The three disasters of my life.
---
Jake Lawson.
Our university's basketball team captain. Tall. Muscular. Jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds. Intimidating as hell at first glance, especially with that resting murder face.
But inside? A soft marshmallow.
Scared of rats. Like, scream-jump-on-furniture-level scared.
Once, a rat ran across the dorm hallway and Jake climbed onto a table so fast he left claw marks.
He still denies that.
He glared at me now, dark hair messy, voice deep and rough from sleep.
"What the hell were you mumbling at six in the morning, Theo? You possessed or something?"
---
And then there was Max Rivera.
University's top art student.
Glasses always sliding down his nose, sketchbook glued to his hand, sleeps like a dead corpse. Looks like a harmless nerd but has enough braincells to power the entire campus.
He is the type who forgets to eat because he is too busy painting some meaningful masterpiece about existential crisis or whatever.
He peeked from under his blanket.
"If you woke me up just to monologue dramatically again," he said sleepily, "I'm throwing acrylic paint at you."
---
Then came the bulldozer.
Charles Bennett.
Our university's strongest athlete.
Track and field champion, gym freak, loud, unfiltered, zero filter between brain and mouth. He once told a professor "your lecture is boring" to his face. And survived.
He yawned like a lion and stretched, muscles popping.
"Whoever is making noise," he growled, "I'm punching you after breakfast."
"We literally just woke up," I said.
"I don't care."
---
We all shared the same neighborhood since childhood.
Our houses were lined up next to each other like someone copy-pasted them.
We practically grew up like siblings.
Doors? Irrelevant.
Privacy? Nonexistent.
Personal space? A myth.
We barged into each other's houses so often that our parents stopped questioning it.
Even now, in university, nothing has changed. We crashed at each other's dorms and apartments like we owned them.
Actually, correction. We do own this place. At least emotionally.
---
Oh, and I forgot something important.
I'm the university's Ace.
Not bragging.
Okay, maybe bragging a little.
Tennis champion, scholarship student, top of my mathematics department, campus sweetheart—apparently.
Professors love me, juniors admire me, seniors try to recruit me into every club possible.
My life?
Going smoothly.
Perfectly.
Exactly how I wanted.
---
Until that cold bastard entered the frame again.
The universe must hate me.
I tolerated him through childhood.
I endured him through high school.
And now?
Now he showed up in my university like a plague I can't escape.
My downfall had a name.
Jace Halden.
---
Jake rubbed his eyes. "You're talking about him again?"
Charles snorted. "The emo robot?"
Max hummed thoughtfully. "The quiet guy who stares at Theo like he is a rare museum artifact?"
"Don't say it like that!" I snapped.
All three of them stared at me.
"Bro..." Jake said slowly, "that's literally what he does."
Max nodded. "He doesn't blink."
Charles flexed. "I can fight him."
"No, you can't," I deadpanned.
"Why not?"
"Because he's scary."
Charles looked offended. "I'm scary too!"
"No," Jake said, "you're loud. There's a difference."
I laughed, but my stomach twisted.
Because deep down, I knew Jake wasn't wrong.
---
We all attended the same high school.
Same classrooms, same teachers, same sports competitions.
Except all my victories? Were overshadowed by him.
I got second place? Jace got first.
I solved a difficult math problem?
Jace finished it three minutes earlier.
I won best athlete?
He won the academic award AND the science fair AND the chess tournament.
Teachers compared us so much I started hearing their voices in my sleep.
"Why can't you be more like Jace?"
"He never causes trouble."
"Jace is so mature."
"Look how focused he is, Theo."
It never mattered what I did.
He always did it better.
Silently.
Effortlessly.
Flawlessly.
I hated him for it.
---
And then university started.
Fresh environment. New people. New beginning.
I finally felt free. People admired me for once.
No Jace. No comparisons. No silent staring.
Just my life, my friends, my achievements.
Until…
He transferred.
Like a curse.
He walked onto campus one morning, suitcase in hand, wearing that same calm expression.
Like nothing changed.
Like he belonged.
And the moment his eyes found me—
everything froze.
But I pretended I didn't see him.
Because I refused to acknowledge his existence.
---
Jake stretched and cracked his back.
"So what's the plan today?"
"Breakfast," Charles said immediately.
"Coffee," Max added.
"Training," Jake groaned.
They all looked at me.
"What about you, Theo?"
I grinned.
"Tennis practice."
Yes.
My safe space.
The one place where I wasn't compared to him.
Where I wasn't overshadowed.
Where I was the star.
---
Or so I thought.
Because when we walked out of the dorm, the campus courtyard came into view—
and there he was.
Standing under a tree, uniform neat, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair slightly tousled by the wind.
Jace Halden.
Cold. Quiet. Perfect.
His eyes lifted.
They locked onto mine instantly.
Like magnets.
My breath hitched.
Jake muttered, "Dude... he's staring again."
Max whispered, "That's not normal."
Charles cracked his knuckles. "Say the word. I'll punch him."
I forced a smile.
"Ignore him."
But as we started walking, I couldn't resist glancing back.
Jace was still watching.
Expression unreadable.
Except—
for the slightest curve of his lips.
A smile.
Small.
Barely there.
But completely, undeniably directed at me.
My heart dropped.
Because I knew that look.
It wasn't admiration.
It wasn't friendliness.
It was something else.
And my peaceful life?
Yeah.
It just ended.