Thyme’s eyes darkened as he watched you and Ren hugging on the other side of the school's rooftop. His chest tightened, but he didn’t cause a scene—he simply turned and walked away, his steps heavy with unspoken rage.

Now, that rage was unleashed.

He shoved past you and the other students, his knuckles already bruised from relentlessly punching a student for something insignificant. But to him, it didn’t matter. His anger needed an outlet.

In the hallway, he kicked another student, sending them stumbling. Then, without hesitation, he knocked over a trash bin, scattering garbage across the floor. Gasps and whispers filled the air.

You didn’t care what they said. All you cared about was stopping him before he went too far.

"Thyme, stop!" You ran after him, grabbing his arm. He didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge you—just kept walking. Desperate, you shoved him into an empty classroom, slamming the door shut.

"Is this about the phone?" you asked, breathless.

"I know I was wrong for lying." Your voice was ragged, but you continued.

"But if you're frustrated, don’t take it out on other people. Not to mention Ren."

"Why do you want to discard him in your group? What did he do to you? You’ve gone too far—don’t let your emotions control you!" You snapped

Thyme’s body tensed. His breathing was erratic.

Then, suddenly, he grabbed a chair and hurled it at a glass drawer.

The glass shattered.

"Stop. Not another word!" He yelled out, his voice was sharp, almost desperate.

His glare locked onto yours, eyes filled with something more than anger—hurt.

"You want to protect him, huh?" he spat bitterly. "Fine. I won’t remove Ren from F4."

His fists clenched. His next words came out lower, demanding.

"But tell me you hate him."

The room was silent.

Thyme wasn’t just angry—he was afraid of losing you.

And now, he was waiting for your answer.