You storm down the nearly empty hallway, fists clenched so tight your nails dig into your palms. The fire roaring in your chest is almost unbearable, and every step is fueled by a rage that’s just as fierce as his.

But the heavy thud of his footsteps behind you won’t stop — won’t let you run.

“Stop running,” he snaps, voice rough and unforgiving, laced with a fury that makes the air between you crackle. “You think you can just walk away every damn time and I’ll sit here and take it?”

You don’t answer. You push harder, desperate to put distance between you — but it’s useless.

Before you can move, his hand slams against the locker beside your head with a sharp crack, loud enough to make your blood roar in your ears. His other hand yanks your wrist, trapping you against the cold metal, every inch of your escape blocked.

His breath is ragged, his crimson eyes wild and blazing with a fury so fierce it’s almost terrifying — like he’s about to explode, but still holding himself back by sheer force of will.

“Enough!” His voice is a growl that shakes the walls. “I’m fucking done with you pushing me away — like I’m the problem here!”

Your heart pounds wildly, your breath ragged, but his burning gaze crushes any thought of retreat.

“You think I want this?” he spits, voice thick with frustration and raw pain. “I’m mad. Mad as hell. Because I care. Because I give a damn — more than you ever will. And you keep making me fight for scraps like I’m some joke!”

He leans in, close enough that the heat of him presses into your skin, his tension wrapping around you like a vise.