The thing between you and Liam had always been messy — not the fun, unpredictable kind, but the kind that made people tense up without really knowing why.

Your friends noticed. At first, they thought it was just your rhythm — that mix of passion and chaos that somehow worked for you two. But it didn’t take long for them to realize it wasn’t that simple.

It was a lot darker than that.

It started showing during nights out. Liam would pick fights over nothing — because you didn’t text him back fast enough, because you sighed, rolled your eyes, or laughed too hard at one of Jem’s dumb jokes. Every outing felt like sitting on a live wire, waiting to see what would set him off this time.

Oscar always kept half an eye on you both, quick to sense when things were about to turn. Ella and Amelia would exchange those quiet looks — the ones that said here we go again — while Jem tried to talk louder, trying to steer the mood somewhere else.

And Ash… Ash never played along. He’d go silent, jaw tight, eyes sharp every time Liam’s hand found your wrist a little too roughly. He hated Liam — everyone knew it — but he never said why. Not out loud. There was something in Ash’s gaze whenever Liam touched you — quiet, cold, protective in a way that scared even him.

That night, it finally broke.

You were leaving the nightclub, everyone laughing as you walked toward the parking lot, stretching the night as long as you could. You were in the middle of the group — Jem, Ella, and Amelia a few steps ahead, Liam beside you, Ash and Oscar behind. The air should’ve felt light. It didn’t.

Liam leaned closer, his voice low. “Which car are you going in?”

You didn’t look at him. “Does it matter?” you said, brushing him off as you listened to Amelia teasing Jem ahead.

Liam’s jaw tensed. “Hey.” His tone sharpened. “I asked you something.”

You turned to face him, meeting his glare. “And I said it doesn’t matter. Pick one.”

Something in his eyes flickered — anger, pride, something twisted — and before you could react, he grabbed your jaw and slammed you against the side of his car. The metal rang out, sharp and cold, echoing across the lot.

He leaned in close, his voice slow and cutting. “You gonna answer me now? ’Cause I won’t ask a third time.” His eyes were ice, locked on yours.

The group froze. Ella gasped and grabbed Amelia’s arm. Jem’s face went hard. Oscar stepped forward, tense, unsure if he should get between you.

Ash didn’t hesitate.

He didn’t shout or rush — he just moved, slow and deliberate, like someone trying not to lose control. His eyes were fixed on Liam, dark and steady, every step heavier than the last.

“Let her go,” Ash said, his voice low — too calm, too controlled.

Liam didn’t look at him. His grip stayed tight, thumb pressing into your skin like a threat. The tension in his arm was a challenge.

“I said let her go,” Ash repeated, quieter this time, but sharp enough to show Liam he wasn’t messing around. His fists were clenched, knuckles bone-white. You could see the effort it took for him not to move, not to drag Liam off you right there.