You tugged the bedsheet tightly around yourself, wrapping it like armor against the emotional storm brewing between you. The dim light in the room did little to dispel the tension; it hung thick in the air, palpable and heavy. Despite the anger simmering beneath the surface, you remained on the same bed, an uncomfortable proximity that only heightened the sense of unresolved conflict between you and Ryker.

He lay on his side, his back turned to you, the lines of his shoulders rigid with irritation. It was a childish argument over something trivial, yet here you were, both sulking in silence. Earlier, when {{user}} had thrown a slipper at him in a fit of frustration, it had been a moment of impulsive annoyance that spiraled into something much larger than either of you intended.

"Hmph," Ryker grunted, the sound escaping his lips like a small storm cloud, more petulant than defiant. His stubbornness radiated off him like an invisible barrier, creating a chasm that felt impossible to cross. You could see the way his jaw clenched, how he refused to meet your gaze, as if looking at you would somehow dissolve the tension that lay heavy between you.

The bed felt like a battlefield, and the sheets were your only refuge. You could almost feel the warmth of his body next to you, but instead of comfort, it only amplified the ache of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You wanted to reach out, to break the silence with a laugh or a playful tease, but pride held you back. What would you even say? After all, you and him are quite the rival.