Wanting Sera

The headboard slammed against the wall again, hard enough to make the framed picture above my desk shake slightly, and I swear to God I almost lost my f*****g mind right then and there because what kind of inconsiderate asshole makes that much noise at two in the morning when other people are trying to sleep like normal human beings? I groaned into my pillow and pressed it harder over my ears, squeezing my eyes shut while silently begging for death, peace, hearing loss — honestly, anything at this point — but it did absolutely nothing because the walls separating my room from Rouge’s were apparently built out of cardboard and bad decisions. Another moan leaked through the wall. Then a low masculine laugh. Then the unmistakable sound of the bed creaking violently again. I froze for a second before dragging the pillow away from my face slowly. “Oh my f*****g God,” I muttered at the ceiling in disbelief. “Does he ever get tired?” Apparently not. Because ever since our parents left for their romantic getaway three days ago, Rouge had somehow become even worse than usual, which honestly felt impossible considering the guy already treated this house like his own personal playground. He blasted music whenever he felt like it, left empty beer bottles everywhere, brought random girls home almost every night, and somehow always looked amused whenever I snapped at him for it like my irritation genuinely entertained him. I hated him, but even that word felt too clean for someone like Rouge Carter. He didn’t just annoy me. He took up space everywhere without trying — in the hallways at school, in the kitchen at home, even through the walls when I was desperate for sleep. Somehow he always made his presence everybody else’s problem. Another loud thump echoed through the wall. Followed by a sharp gasp. Something sharp tightened behind my eyes. No. Absolutely not. I was not spending the rest of my night listening to Rouge Carter reenact porn scenes with whatever girl he dragged home tonight while I slowly lost my sanity beside the wall. With an aggravated groan, I shoved the blanket off my legs and climbed out of bed before tugging on the oversized pajama shorts hanging from my chair, muttering insults under my breath the entire time while storming toward the door. This was ridiculous. Actually ridiculous. The worst part was that our parents would probably still defend him if I complained. My mother adored Rouge for reasons I genuinely could not comprehend while his father acted like the guy hung the moon despite the fact that he was one inconvenience away from becoming my personal sleep paralysis demon. I yanked my bedroom door open and marched barefoot down the hallway, fully prepared to scream at him until he finally developed basic human decency. But the moment I reached his room, I paused. The door wasn’t fully shut. It sat slightly open, warm light spilling into the dark hallway while muffled laughter drifted through the gap, and before my brain could remind me that barging into Rouge’s room at two in the morning was probably a terrible idea, my hand shoved against the door hard enough for it to swing open completely. And instantly, I regretted everything. “Oh my God—” A blonde girl sat on Rouge’s lap completely topless while another girl knelt beside him kissing slowly down his neck like she had all the time in the world, and right in the middle of it all sat Rouge himself, shirtless, tattooed, unfairly calm, one hand resting lazily against the blonde’s thigh while his dark eyes lifted slowly to meet mine. Nobody moved. Nobody looked embarrassed. If anything, Rouge looked entertained. “What the f**k?” I blurted out finally, my face burning so hot it physically hurt. “Are you serious right now?” The blonde turned toward me immediately with an annoyed expression. “Who the hell is she?” “I thought you said nobody else was here,” the other girl complained while still sitting way too close to him for my sanity. Meanwhile Rouge stayed exactly where he was, completely relaxed despite the fact that I had just walked in on the world’s most traumatic threesome experience. Then slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We were alone,” he said calmly, voice rough enough to make my irritation spike all over again. “Until my step-sister kicked the door open like the police.” The word step-sister instantly changed the atmosphere. Both girls looked at me differently after that. Curious. Judgmental. Amused. I wanted the floor to open and swallow me whole. My stomach twisted violently as Rouge’s hand slid higher against the blonde’s thigh without breaking eye contact with me for even a second, and somehow that irritated me more than the actual threesome itself because why the hell did he still look so calm while I was internally combusting? “Can you keep it down for one night?” I snapped, forcing my eyes to stay on his face instead of literally anything else in the room. “Some people are trying to sleep.” The blonde laughed softly under her breath while the other girl rolled her eyes like I was ruining everyone’s fun. Rouge just kept staring at me. Calm. Unreadable. Dangerously amused. Then he tilted his head slightly. “You came in here just to complain about noise?” “Yes?” I shot back incredulously. “Unlike you, some of us have actual responsibilities tomorrow.” A low chuckle left his throat. God, I hated how deep it sounded. “Cute pajamas,” he murmured lazily. My eyes widened slightly before dropping automatically to my oversized shirt, realizing too late that one side had slipped slightly off my shoulder during my dramatic entrance. Asshole. “You’re disgusting,” I hissed immediately. One eyebrow lifted slowly. “Yet you’re still standing here.” That shut me up instantly. Because annoyingly enough, he wasn’t wrong. I should have left immediately. Instead I was still standing there while two half-naked girls stared at me from his bed like I was interrupting some private performance. Humiliation crawled violently up my spine. “f**k you, Rouge.” His laugh followed me all the way down the hallway. And somehow that irritated me even more than the s*x noises did. I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me before pacing angrily across the room, my chest rising and falling too fast while muffled laughter continued leaking through the wall like some kind of personal torture specifically designed to ruin my life. Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. Who continues a threesome after getting caught by their step-sister? Rouge Carter apparently. I grabbed my pillow aggressively before yanking my blanket off the bed because there was absolutely no way I could sleep in here anymore, not when every tiny sound next door kept replaying those disgusting images inside my head no matter how hard I tried to erase them. The blonde girl in his lap. His hand on her thigh. The way he looked at me without even a little bit of shame. God. I hated him. Maybe if our parents hadn’t decided to play happy little blended family so suddenly, none of this would even be happening right now. Two months ago, Rouge was just another campus asshole I avoided whenever possible. Now he lived across the hallway from me, ate dinner at our table, walked around my house shirtless whenever he felt like it, and somehow managed to invade every corner of my life without even trying. And the worst part? My mother adored him. I dragged my blanket downstairs before throwing it dramatically onto the couch, fully prepared to spend the rest of the night in the living room like some exhausted refugee escaping psychological warfare. If Rouge pulled this s**t one more time, I was seriously considering murder. *** I barely slept. Actually, scratch that. I didn’t sleep at all. Every single time I closed my eyes, my brain betrayed me by replaying flashes of what I saw in Rouge’s room like some sick punishment I never asked for. The blonde on his lap. The girl kissing his neck. His tattoos. His voice. His stupid voice. Meanwhile, the asshole himself probably slept perfectly afterward. I groaned when sunlight hit directly across my face through the living room windows, forcing my eyes open after what felt like barely twenty minutes of rest. My neck hurt, my head was pounding, and judging by the way my entire body felt, I looked exactly as terrible as I felt. Miserable. I stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment before forcing myself upright with a tired sigh. Upstairs was finally quiet. Thank God. At least Rouge and his traveling circus stopped performing sometime before sunrise. I grabbed my phone from the coffee table before nearly crying when I checked the time. 7:12 A.M. Perfect. Just f*****g perfect. I dragged myself upstairs quietly because the last thing I needed this early in the morning was accidentally witnessing one of Rouge’s girls leaving the house wearing his shirt while he stood there looking smug and half-dressed like the human embodiment of regret. Thankfully, the hallway was empty. I slipped into my room quickly before getting dressed for university and attempting to hide the disaster underneath my eyes with enough concealer to qualify as witchcraft. It barely helped. By the time I walked downstairs again with my bag hanging from one shoulder, exhaustion and caffeine deprivation had already turned me into an angry shell of a human being. Then I froze immediately. Rouge sat at the kitchen island scrolling through his phone while drinking coffee like he hadn’t committed psychological terrorism against me a few hours ago. Of course, he looked perfectly fine. Actually worse than fine. His dark hair still looked slightly damp from the shower, and he wore a black shirt with gray sweatpants low on his hips while looking unfairly relaxed for someone I actively wanted dead. I looked away immediately. Unfortunately, he noticed. “Damn,” Rouge drawled casually without lifting his eyes from his phone. “You look horrible.” I grabbed bottled coffee from the fridge aggressively. “And you look like chlamydia in human form.” That finally made him glance up. Amusement flickered across his face instantly. “You’re still mad?” I slammed the fridge shut harder than necessary. “Do you seriously hear yourself?” “You’re acting like you walked in on a murder.” “I practically did.” A low laugh escaped him again. God, I wanted to throw this bottle at his head. “You know,” Rouge continued casually while leaning back slightly against the counter, “normal people would’ve just texted me to keep it down instead of kicking the door open like an angry wife.” My eye twitched violently. “I would literally rather die.” “Relax, princess.” His mouth tilted slightly. “You looked more shocked than traumatized.” Heat crawled straight up my neck again so fast it genuinely pissed me off. This asshole. I grabbed my bag before storming toward the front door. “Go f**k yourself, Rouge.” “Already did that last night.” I almost choked. Behind me, his laughter echoed through the kitchen while I yanked the front door open aggressively— Only to nearly slam directly into Julie, standing outside with her hand raised like she had been about to knock. “What the hell?” she blurted out while staring at me. “Why do you look like you survived a house fire?” I opened my mouth. Then immediately froze. Because from behind me, Rouge suddenly spoke again. “Morning.” Julie’s entire expression changed. Slowly, painfully slowly, she looked past me toward the kitchen where Rouge still sat casually drinking coffee, then back at me again like her brain physically could not process what she was seeing. Then her eyes widened. “…Why is Rouge Carter inside your house?”