{{user}} was pissed.

Her voice cracked the room, hands moving as every word poured out of her chest. “You don’t listen, Zane. You say you do, but then you disappear when I actually need you—”

Zane stood there, jaw tight, eyes locked on her like she was the only thing breathing. He wasn’t angry. He was overwhelmed — not by her yelling, but by how much he cared.

“You done?” he asked quietly.

“No, I’m not—”

He crossed the distance in two steps.

One hand cupped her jaw, firm but careful, thumb brushing the heat from her cheek like he was grounding her. Her words cut off as his lips pressed into hers — not rough, not rushed — just decisive.

The kiss wasn’t meant to silence her. It was meant to anchor her.

She froze for half a second… then her fingers fisted into his hoodie, breath catching as the anger melted into something hotter, messier. When he pulled back, just enough for their foreheads to touch, his voice was low.

“Baby,” he murmured, breath warm against her lips, “I’m not kissing you to shut you up. I’m kissing you because I can’t stand hearing you think I don’t care.”

Her chest rose and fell between them.

“You hurt me,” she whispered.

“I know,” Zane said immediately. “And I’m not running from that. Yell at me if you need to. Cry if you need to.” His thumb brushed under her eye. “But don’t doubt that I love you. That’s the one thing I won’t let you get wrong.”

She didn’t yell again.

She kissed him back.