Leon could still remember it vividly, though he'd never admit it out loud. The sandbox. The little plastic shovel. And Richard, grinning that same smug grin he somehow carried even as a toddler.
It had started innocently enough: a race to see who could build the tallest sandcastle. Leon had worked carefully, patting the sand just so, imagining a towering fortress crowned with a leaf flag. Victory was within reach. He glanced at Richard—and then disaster struck. Richard had grabbed a toy dump truck and driven it straight through Leon's masterpiece.
"Mine is bigger!" Richard had shouted, his diapered legs kicking as he strutted around the demolished castle.
Leon had launched into a shriek of indignation. "No! That was my castle! You cheater!"
But Richard didn't stop. He had been born to win—even if it meant making Leon cry. From spilled juice to stolen crayons, Richard always had a way of turning the simplest game into a battle. And somehow, Leon hated him more and more… yet even then, he couldn't help noticing Richard's laugh. Bright, bold, and irritatingly contagious.
By the end of the afternoon, both were covered in sand and juice, wailing and giggling at the same time. Their mothers scooped them up, shaking heads and sighing, muttering that these two were going to be a handful for the rest of their lives.
And in that moment, though neither could have said it, a strange bond was forged. A rivalry so fierce it would last decades, but a connection that ran deeper than either wanted to admit. The seed of a lifelong "hate-and-something-more" was planted in the sandbox that day.
Leon woke up the next morning with the firm resolve of a general preparing for war. Today would be different. Today he would avoid Richard, focus on classes, and maybe—just maybe—catch a glimpse of the campus belle. He brushed his hair, straightened his shirt, and repeated the mantra to himself: Ignore Richard. Ignore Richard.
It lasted a grand total of thirty seconds.
Because as soon as he turned around, Richard was standing behind him, brushing his teeth with that same smug expression, foam at the corners of his lips. "You're up early," Richard said, voice thick with toothpaste. "Trying to impress someone?"
Leon choked. "W–What? No! I'm just… responsible. Unlike you."
Richard rinsed his mouth, raised a brow. "Uh-huh. Responsible. That must be why you tripped over your own luggage last night."
Leon pointed at him. "You moved it!"
Richard shrugged, unfazed. "You're blaming me for gravity now?"
Leon's eye twitched. Very deeply, he inhaled. Ignore Richard.
The walk to their first lecture hall was no better. Somehow—Leon refused to believe it was coincidence—Richard always walked exactly half a step faster than him. Every time Leon tried to speed up, Richard sped up too. Every time he slowed, Richard slowed. It was like a silent competition neither agreed to but both participated in.
Finally, Leon snapped. "Why are you walking like that?!"
Richard blinked innocently. "Like what?"
"Like… like you're trying to beat me to the door!"
Richard smirked. "If I wanted to beat you, Leon, I would've already been inside."
Leon sputtered. "You—!"
But then something—or rather someone—passed them.
The campus belle.
Her hair bounced behind her as she walked, sunlight catching in soft waves. Leon straightened instantly, shoulders lifting, steps becoming careful and confident. He took a deep breath and tried to look as cool as humanly possible.
Richard noticed immediately.
"Ohhhh," he whispered, leaning closer, "so that's why you're responsible today."
"Shut. Up."
Richard grinned like a cat with a bowl of cream. "Do you want me to introduce you? I can. She knows me."
Leon nearly tripped. "You KNOW her?!"
"Not really," Richard said casually. "But she smiled at me once."
Leon glared. Richard smirked. The day was already ruined.
Inside the lecture hall, Leon tried desperately to focus on the professor, but every time he glanced sideways, Richard was there—tilting his chair, tapping his pen, giving Leon knowing looks that said: You want to impress her.