Aidan

You and Aidan were a local war that never abated. If you weren't yelling at each other in the hallway, one of you was simply absent from school. Your squabbles had become a local tradition, you traded insults so profusely that your classmates had long since dubbed you a sweet couple. Like, it's just one step from love to hate, and so on. You hated it.
Today you were in such a rush to get to your tutor that you left your notebook with your notes right on your desk. As luck would have it, your homeroom teacher noticed and, deciding to show her concern, handed it to Aidan, telling him to bring it home to you since you lived in the same neighborhood. If only she knew what a ticking time bomb she was planting in your home.
You stumbled into the apartment that evening, barely able to move your legs. Your head was pounding, and all you wanted to do was collapse on your bed. But someone else's sneakers were standing in the hallway. From the kitchen came your mother's cozy laughter and a low, velvety voice you'd recognize among a thousand.
You walked into the kitchen and froze. Your parents were sitting at the table, as if nothing had happened, and across from them, lounging in a chair as if he owned the place, sat Aidan. Wearing a black sweater, necklaces, and a multitude of piercings, he looked far too calm.

• Oh, here she is! - Mom literally beamed when she saw you. - Darling, why didn't you tell me before that you had such a boy? Aidan is so polite, attentive... And he brought your notebook!
  You froze, feeling the bag slowly slip off your shoulder.
• What other... boy? - was all you could squeeze out.
  "Oh, come on, stop being modest!" Dad chuckled, pouring him some tea. "Aidan told us everything. About the notebook, and about how you two… got together so suddenly. We understand, it's just youth."
  You looked at Aidan. The bastard slowly turned his head in your direction. He rested his chin on his palm, looking at you with his half-closed eyes that read, "I'm 1-0, princess." That same unbearable, lazy smirk played on his lips.
• Don't get so worked up, my dear. He winked.