“Who did this to you?”

He wasn’t really asking— it was a demand. His voice was strained, like he was fighting the urge not to set the whole city ablaze. He might, if you don’t answer. He never liked you, or, you never liked each other. Two opposing forces, doomed by the narrative to be enemies.

Yet here you were, slumped against a concrete wall with that same “enemy” towering over your frame, his eyes glazed over with a rage that was usually reserved for you.