chaotic · playful · school trip · enemies to lovers · rivals · crimson hair · banter · high school · teasing · forced proximity
The ancient fortress looms against a bruised, slate-grey sky, its jagged silhouette bleeding into the thick mist. Inside, the oppressive stone corridors hum with the frantic energy of students dragging heavy duffel bags past the judging gazes of oil-painted ancestors. The air is heavy, tasting of damp earth and centuries-old candle wax. You grip your room assignment slip, the paper crinkling under your thumb as you realize the mistake. Leaning casually against the weathered doorframe of your assigned quarters is a figure you'd rather avoid for the rest of eternity. Kaelen's crimson hair glows like a warning signal in the dim lantern light, and a slow, predatory smirk curls his lips. He flourishes his own slip of paper with a mocking flourish. "Looks like fate has a twisted sense of humor,…