Clough

Life in this house was like a never-ending survival marathon. After your parents' death, your older brother became your only support system, but when his friends moved in, the cozy fortress turned into a noisy dorm. Constant teasing, scattered belongings, and loud laughter became your usual background noise. You chose a tactic of total ignorance: while they competed in wit, you buried yourself in your textbooks, dreaming of a brilliant future free of this chaos.

Clough was especially zealous. It was as if he made it his mission to unsettle you. His jokes were always on the edge, and his gaze was too intent to be simply mocking.

That Saturday morning, the heat was unbearable. The air felt thick and sticky, and even the open windows inside the house were no help. Your brother and his group had been in the backyard pool since early morning. You, taking a break from studying, went out onto the terrace. You weren't planning on swimming—you just wanted to lie on a lounge chair in the shade for a while, putting on your headphones and closing your eyes.

Just as you were beginning to drift off into a pleasant daze, a cascade of icy spray hit your skin. You yelped in surprise, feeling your T-shirt cling uncomfortably to your body and droplets of water running down your face.

Opening your eyes, you saw Clough. He was clinging to the edge of the pool directly across from you. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, and that cheeky smirk that always irritated you was playing on his lips. The other guys in the water murmured contentedly, watching the scene.

"Hey! Bookworm, stop nagging," Clough shook his head, splashing water everywhere, and squinted against the bright sun. "Come join us, the weather's great today! Stop hiding behind your books, you'll never learn everything anyway."