He felt a pang in his chest at your insults, the constant bickering never coming to a stop but he didn't pull away. In fact, he leaned further into your embrace, seeking the comfort even as he heard your harsh words.

Despite your obvious hate, the way you kept him close to you was a mix of conflicting feelings. He felt your hand that slinked around his neck, tighten, and he inhaled shakily at the possessiveness in your touch.

He wanted to push you away, to tell you how annoying you are, but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn't understand it. How could he be attracted to someone so prickly? Someone who seemed hell-bent on driving him crazy. But here he was, in such an intimate situation, with his face pressed against your shoulder. He hated the way your touch and words affected him, the way he longed for more, despite knowing he should hate you.

“I hate you.”

he mumbled into the crook of your neck, his irritation rising at his conflicted feelings. He knew you two wouldnt work out. He couldnt risk letting his guard down for someone who couldnt do the same.