A Hate-Love Relationship || TypeTharn

10: Battlecry!

A/N: Happy New year! Hope 2023 is kind to all of us. 💕
~*~

When Type enters the dorm just before the curfew begins, Tharn is thankfully in his (own) bed, burrowed inside the blanket like a cute burrito and sound asleep.

Of course, the bastard is able to rest without any fears tormenting him, while Type just spent the entire dinner talking Techno's ear off and trying to come up with ways to eliminate the threat Tharn poses. He scoffs, watching the slim figure facing Type's side of the room. The soft rise and fall of his chest and Tharn's relaxed face appearing even more angelic in sleep, in spite of hiding a demon inside makes Type feel the same unfathomable rage all over again. Its freaking unfair that Tharn is one of those freaks.

Beautiful, perfect and charming Tharn. Turns out this is a farce. A goddamn trap. A cleverly disguised bait that he fell for. His roommate is the freaking devil himself here to ingeniously trick (and maybe seduce?) Type into lowering his defences.

This betrayal is made even more potent by his own traitorous thoughts, still having trouble in viewing Tharn as the enemy. Which was probably Tharn's plan all along. Get close to him using the pretence of friendship to get under Type's skin, while making a grave so deep inside his mind (of Tharn's thoughts) that Type will find it impossible to extract them, despite learning his true identity. He curses himself for being that naïve fool, who got blinded by a beauty and lost his good sense in the blink of an eye. Mostly, he curses Tharn for entering his life to begin with and now refusing to leave the dorm politely ... unlike the nice gentleman act he'd played so far.

Type had half a mind to wake Tharn up and subject him to the frustration brewing in his chest. Why the hell should Tharn get to rest peacefully when Type is losing his cool here? He wants to shake the jerk awake and demand him to move out, return back to their aborted confrontation from the evening again. But another searching look at that deceptively ethereal face and Type trudges back to the washroom; mellowed, with a set of fresh clothes to change into before heading to bed. He's not such a heartless bastard to wake someone up only to pick a fight with them. Besides, he (and Tharn) needs a break from this stressful topic - at least, for one night. If he knows anything for certain, it's that they will have plenty of time to revisit and hash things out till one of them (Tharn) moves out.

~*~

Not surprisingly he tosses, restless and sleep beyond his reach into early hours. Type thinks of various ways to intimidate Tharn into giving up his stubborn claim to the dorm. Imagines the scenarios in excruciating detail on how those conversations might go...

Same old drama and another stalemate greets him: Tharn at his desk resolutely ignoring him, earphones in place and Type fuming in the corner attempting to broadcast his peevishness with his laser glares alone. It doesn't seem to be working though. So, he steps forward to yank the offending device off and gets Tharn to finally acknowledge his looming presence.

"You must move out." Another blank, disinterested gaze meets his angry command. "I refuse to live in the same room with you. Can't to hear? Ai'Tharn! Stop acting dumb and talk to me, you jerk. Move out of the dorm."

That at least gets the intended reaction. Well, Type hitting Tharn on the shoulders with his own earphones with a sharp thwack causes the twink to scowl back at him, breaking his weird silent act. Type waits with a bated breath only to get the same old answer, set in the same huffed tones. "No way."

Time to increase the heat.

He steps closer, hands slamming down on the desk and towering over the seated Tharn. Type knows he makes for an imposing figure. His six foot-one inch frame of toned physique and mean scowls has been told to make him one scary figure, especially when he's mad. And Type certainly is close to frothing at the mouth from the way Tharn refuses to listen to reason. He quickly gives in to his desire to shake Tharn, when the unaffected idiot simply stares at with his crescent shaped eyes, showing no noticeable response to Type's intimidation other than the typically pouting lips set in a thin grimace. Somehow, that observation makes him even more mad. Type reaches for the collar and instead of just yelling at him, he makes the unconscious choice to go farther.