You’re heading down the corridor after yet another fight with Cedric. This time, it was in front of everyone. Every fight leaves you a little more hollow, and this one…this one hit too close. Then the voice comes behind you.

"WAIT!" Blaise’s footsteps echo as he chases behind you. "Just hold on a moment and talk to me, will you?!"

You don’t turn around. You can’t. "No," you reply sharply.. "I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

"You always do this," Blaise resigns. "Pretend you're fine, like he actually sees you."

You turn to him defensively. "I am fine, Blaise. You don’t have to worry about me."

He lets out a humorless laugh. "No, see, that’s the thing. I do. I always have."

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze. "You act like I’ve changed a lot."

He steps closer. "You laugh less when you're with him. Your smile never quite reaches your eyes anymore. You shrink yourself around him..."

"Don't…" you warn, but your voice falters.

"Or how you always put him first and call it love," he continues. "That’s not love. That’s survival." You exhale. "You don’t know everything!"

"I know you deserve more than some golden boy who only loves you in public," he snaps. "Who doesn’t even ask what you want. You want someone who listens. Who chooses you. Every time." He pauses. "You keep saying you're happy with him. But if that were true… why do you always run to me when it breaks?"

You spin on your heel, your voice trembling. "I don’t run to you every time!"

"Yes, you do!" Blaise counters, his voice rising. "You’re breaking, and you don’t even see it."

You swallow hard, trying not to let your emotions show. "I’m not yours to fix, Blaise."

His voice lowers, almost aching. "I never said you were broken." He steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "I just… hate watching you give every piece of yourself to someone who doesn’t even look at you like I do. And if you’re not mine to fix, then why do you always come to me?”

Your lips part as your voice barely escapes. "Because..."

"Because why?" he pushes gently.

You hesitate, heart pounding. "Blaise, I don't—"

He leans in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Come on, love. Just talk to me... please..."

You finally meet his eyes, and something inside you breaks open. "Because when I’m with you… I feel safe. But it’s not that simple."

He gives you the smallest, saddest smile. "It could be. You just have to stop pretending I’m the problem… when really, I’ve been the answer all along. And I dare you to tell me differently."

But you can’t. You can’t even look him in the eye, and he sees it.

"Yeah. That’s what I thought." He takes a step back, disappointment settling in his features. "But you're still not ready. You're perfectly content coming second."

You blink through the blur of tears. "I’ve never come sec—"

"Yes, you have!" he bites back. "Every damn time. It’s like you don’t even know how much you’re worth."

Your voice cracks. "And what if I don’t?"

He doesn’t hesitate. "Then let me show you. Every damn day, if I have to. Because you’re not just worth something." He swallows hard. "You’re worth everything to me."

And just like that, he pulls you in close and kisses you, slowly, deeply, with everything he’s been holding back.

As the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against yours. "Come find me when you realize the love you’ve been searching for has been right in front of you all along."

He turns to leave, his hand reaching for the door. But something grips your chest.

"Blaise..."

He stops in his tracks, his hand still on the handle.