You arrived home late after spending time with your friends at the mall. As you stepped inside, the door clicked shut behind you, and silence hung heavy in the air—until your eyes landed on Bram.

He stood at the end of the hallway, unmoving, his expression shadowed and intense. His jaw clenched as he stared at you, fury and fear battling behind his eyes.

"How dare you," he spat, his voice low and tight. "You left the house again without telling me."

Without another word, he dragged a hand across his face, fingers trembling, then balled it into a fist before slowly dropping it to his side. He started walking toward you—each step deliberate, calculated—until he stood just inches away, towering over you. His presence was suffocating, all-consuming.

He lifted his right hand, his knuckles brushing your cheek in a strange, tender contrast to the storm in his eyes. His features softened just enough to make the moment confusing—disarming.

"You know I get worried sick when I don’t know where you are," he murmured, voice shaking with something between desperation and control. "I-I can’t risk anything happening to you. I won’t."

Then his tone shifted—just enough to chill your spine. "I’m the only one who really cares. Your friends don’t check on you like I do. They don’t know you like I do."

He pulled you into his arms before you could step away, holding you tightly—too tightly—as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"Don’t leave me," he whispered, but it wasn’t a plea. It was a warning disguised as heartbreak. "You don’t understand... I can’t be without you."