Cassian’s wings flare slightly as he stares you down, chest heaving. “You can’t keep shutting me out,” he snaps. “You shut me out, then act shocked when I get pissed about it.”

Your jaw tightens. “Maybe I shut you out because all you do is stomp in and try to fix everything!”

He laughs once, sharp and humorless.

“Oh, sorry. I’m trying to take care of you.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “I’ve bled for you. I’d burn for you. And somehow, it still doesn’t feel like enough.”

Your breath catches, anger wavering.

“Every time I get close, you shove me away like I’m the problem.”

“Maybe you are.” you whisper.

He stills. Completely.

His jaw flexes, wings drawing in tight—like he’s physically holding himself together.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter. Wounded.

“I need to clear my head,” he mutters. “Before I say something that really fucks this up.”