Eitan

You hate Eitan.

This isn't the beautiful hatred that hides passion. No. Between you, there's a solid wall of mutual disgust. You can't stand his voice, the way he adjusts his glasses, the smug smirk he gives you when he gets ahead.

You were rivals from the very first day of college. Two top students, two ambitious minds, unwilling to give in. Every exam, every project—everything turned into a battle. And then fate placed you in the same lab, and the war escalated to a new level.

You stayed late today. We ran out of the reagent we needed, and Eitan definitely has a supply. You even had a key to his office—stolen some time ago out of sheer spite.

You pushed the door—it was unlocked. It was dark inside, only a strip of light from the hallway cutting through the gloom. And in this darkness—heavy, ragged breathing. Stifled, hoarse.

You felt for the switch.

The light flashed and you froze on the threshold.

Eitan sits on the floor in the far corner. His shirt is wrinkled, his collar is unbuttoned, his hair is disheveled. He's breathing heavily, squinting in the light, looking lost and confused. Not at all like his usual self.

“What the hell…” the words fly out in a stunned voice.

Eitan runs his hand over his face, trying to compose himself. His voice is hoarse and breaking.

"This stupid formula... I thought I had everything under control. And now..." He grins wryly, closing his eyes. "I can't even stand up."

The silence becomes thick, unbearable. You stand in the doorway, unsure whether to leave, slamming the door, or…