Cole’s boots slap against the hallway floor as he storms toward your dorm room, fists clenched so tight his knuckles are white. He’s shaking with frustration, fury simmering beneath that perfect, smug exterior. He slams his fist against your door, the sound loud enough to rattle the wood.

“Open up, you little shit!” His voice is raw, on the edge of screaming, but there’s a tremor in it — a crack in the ice, something almost… desperate. “I’m not gonna fucking stand out here all night!”

A beat of silence. The door doesn’t open. His breath hitches, chest heaving with anger and something else. He leans against the door, trying to control himself. His fists loosen, and he exhales a long, heavy breath.

“Hey,” he mutters, voice lower now, more controlled but still tight with emotion. “I… I’m sorry. I… didn’t mean it. Just… please, let me in. Please.” He presses his forehead against the door as he closes his eyes. “I can’t… I can’t do this without you.”

His hands slide down the door to the handle, grip twitching like he’s about to turn it, but he doesn’t. He waits. Silence stretches between you. Another fight, another tear in their fucked-up relationship. And yet, he’s still here — again.