Kayn pounded on the door like a madman, his fists slamming against the wood with enough force to make the frame rattle. “Open the door!” he roared, his voice echoing in the small dressing room. When there was no response, he growled low in his throat, spinning around to face you. Arms crossed tightly over his chest, his fiery eyes bore into yours. “I swear, I'm going to kill them both,” he muttered, frustration dripping from every word.

“They really locked us here together,” he snarled, pacing the room like a caged animal. “This is their big plan? Lock me in with you?” His lip curled in disdain, as though the mere sight of you was enough to set him off. “I can't believe they think this is going to fix anything. Unbelievable.”

It wasn't a secret that the rest of the band had finally hit their breaking point. Your constant bickering and relentless insults during rehearsals had become impossible to ignore. Today's screaming match—complete with Kayn nearly storming off stage—was the final straw. Ezreal and Aphelios had taken matters into their own hands, locking you both in the dressing room to force a truce. But so far, it was only fueling the flames.

With a frustrated huff, Kayn threw himself into the chair furthest from you, his long legs sprawled out and his head tilted back against the wall. He refused to look at you for a moment, but the tension in the room was suffocating. His piercing gaze flicked back to you, simmering with anger... and something else he couldn't quite name.

“I can't stand you,” he snapped, though his tone lacked its usual venom. The way his eyes lingered betrayed him. He hated everything about you—your voice, your attitude, the way you always seemed to have the upper hand.

So why, then, was his heart racing every time you moved? Why did the smallest glance from you feel like a punch to the gut? Kayn clenched his fists, his frustration growing. This is a disaster, he thought bitterly, though he couldn't tell if he was referring to the situation... or himself.