Arlo sat on the edge of his bed, arms crossed over his chest, watching Remi with a scowl that was a little too exaggerated.
"You're going to fold first, Pinky," he said, voice full of confidence he didn't quite feel.
Remi just grinned at him, her hands casually resting on her hips. She loved this side of him—so stubborn, so sure of himself. It made teasing him even more fun.
"Not a chance," she said brightly. "I bet *you're* the one who can't last a week without me hugging you."
His scowl deepened, but she caught the way his eyes flickered, betraying the truth he was trying to hide. Arlo might act like he hated physical contact—rolling his eyes every time she hugged him, tensing up when she looped her arm through his—but she knew better. He craved it, maybe even more than she did, though he'd never admit it.
"Alright," he huffed. "No touching for a week. Easy."
Remi smirked and took a step back, giving him a wink before heading toward the door. "I'll see you in a few days, Ass-lo. Don't miss me too much."
As soon as she left, Arlo exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. *This will be fine,* he told himself. *It's just a week. I don't need her constantly hanging off me anyway.*
But the first day, although manageable, felt... strange. He had never really paid attention to how often Remi initiated physical contact—whether it was a hug, a playful punch, or even just leaning against him while they studied. It was such a natural part of their dynamic that he hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on it.
By the end of the first day, he found himself feeling just a little... antsy. He tried to focus on his homework, on student council tasks, but his mind kept wandering back to Remi. Normally, by now, she would have come over to his dorm to spend time with him, probably leaning against his shoulder while they went over Turf War reports. But now the space beside him felt oddly empty, and he couldn't help but miss the warmth of her touch.
Still, he pushed the thoughts aside. *It's fine. I'm fine.*
---
Day two was worse.
Arlo woke up feeling unusually irritated. Everything seemed to annoy him. The way his shirt felt a little too tight against his skin. The chatter of students in the halls. Even Blyke, who usually kept to himself, felt like an unbearable presence just by existing.
"What's your problem today?" Blyke asked during lunch, glancing at Arlo's clenched jaw.
"Nothing," Arlo snapped, shoving his tray aside. "Mind your own business."
Blyke raised his hands in surrender, muttering something under his breath as Arlo stormed out of the cafeteria. He couldn't even pinpoint why he was so agitated. He just felt off, like something was missing, and it was throwing him completely out of balance.
He caught glimpses of Remi throughout the day, her bright smile, her playful demeanor, and it only made things worse. She looked so unbothered, so *normal*, while he felt like he was slowly unraveling. He hated it. But what he hated more was the realization creeping up on him.
*I miss her.* He missed her touch—her casual closeness, the way she would link arms with him without a second thought, the way her hugs melted away his stress even when he pretended they annoyed him.
But he refused to give in.
---
Day three was a disaster.
Arlo woke up in a *terrible* mood. He hadn't slept well, tossing and turning all night, and the second he opened his eyes, the weight of the bet hit him like a ton of bricks.
He was going insane.
It wasn't just that he missed Remi's touch—it was that every minute without it made him feel worse. He had gotten so used to the comfort of her physical affection, the steady presence of her warmth, that now, without it, he felt like his skin was too tight, like everything was off-kilter.
He couldn't focus. He snapped at anyone who tried to talk to him. Even his barrier ability seemed to flicker at odd moments, a reflection of the turmoil inside him.
"Arlo, are you okay?" Remi's voice cut through his thoughts as she caught up with him between classes.
He stiffened at the sound of her voice, fighting the overwhelming urge to pull her into a hug. *No, I'm not okay,* he wanted to say. But instead, he forced himself to stay cool, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I'm fine," he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.
Remi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. She stepped closer to him—*too close*—and he could feel the warmth of her body radiating off her, tempting him to reach out and close the gap.
"Really?" she asked, her tone playful. "Because you seem a little... on edge."
"Drop it, Remi," he growled, his frustration peaking.
Remi smirked. She knew he was on the verge of losing it. She could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, the way he avoided her gaze.
"You're not gonna last the week, Arlo," she teased, leaning in just enough to drive him crazy without actually touching him. "Admit it—you miss me."
His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. *Of course I miss you,* he thought, but he refused to say it out loud. His pride wouldn't let him.
"I'm fine," he repeated, though it sounded more like a plea than a statement. "I don't need... that."
Remi's smirk widened. She knew she had him. It was just a matter of time now.
"Alright, if you say so," she said with a shrug, backing off with a playful wink. "Just let me know when you're ready to fold."
Arlo watched her walk away, his hands trembling slightly from the effort of not grabbing her and ending this ridiculous bet right then and there. His body screamed for the contact he had denied himself, but his stubbornness refused to let him surrender.
But deep down, he knew the truth.
He was going to crack.
---
By the end of the third day, Arlo was a mess. He couldn't concentrate on anything, and every time he saw Remi, his resolve crumbled a little more. His body ached for her touch, for the simple comfort of her hand in his, the warmth of her hugs.
As he sat alone in his dorm that night, staring at the ceiling, he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't last a week without her. The thought of enduring another four days like this was unbearable.
With a groan, he sat up and grabbed his phone, texting her before he could stop himself.
**Arlo**: I'm coming over.
The reply came almost instantly.
**Remi**: Are you ready to admit defeat, Ass-lo?
Arlo gritted his teeth, but his hands were already trembling with anticipation.
**Arlo**: Just... be quiet and let me in.
When he arrived at her door minutes later, Remi greeted him with a knowing smile. She didn't say a word, just opened her arms, and without hesitation, Arlo folded into her embrace, his head resting against her shoulder as if he had been waiting for this all along.
"I hate you," he muttered, his voice muffled against her neck, though there was no bite to his words.
Remi chuckled softly, running her hand through his hair. "No, you don't."
And he didn't.
Not even a little bit.
