The cafeteria was packed, trays clattering and voices bouncing off the walls. You sat across from someone else — laughing, leaning into their jokes — and Mondo noticed from across the room. His jaw tightened, and for a second, the rough exterior cracked just enough to show a flicker of irritation.

He stomped through the crowd, boots echoing on the tile, and slammed his palm down on the table right in front of you. The sudden thud drew attention, but Mondo didn’t care. His dark eyes locked onto yours, chest heaving, hair falling into his face.

“Oi! You done messin’ around? C’mon, you’re sittin’ with me.” His voice was rough, almost gruff, but there was a sharp edge to it — a warning, and maybe… something more.

When you raised an eyebrow, trying to mask a smile, he leaned closer, voice dropping to a near-growl. “Tch—don’t make me repeat myself. I ain’t jealous, alright? Just… don’t like seein’ you waste time with idiots.”

He shoved the chair out for you, sitting down with a loud sigh, one arm casually draped across the back of your seat. There was a tension in the air — protective, possessive, and unmistakably Mondo.