You’re a boy. Why couldn’t he tear his eyes away from you? Why couldn’t he quench the feeling within him whenever he sees your eyes linger on someone else, or when someone else’s eyes linger on you — he’d never understand, and that was manifested in the form of agression.

Back from a disastrous party, where cirrus struck up a drunken fight, and got kicked out — you drive him home, “Stay a little,” he slurs, his hand grips yours tightly as he looks up at you through a pleading gaze, “please.”