"Oh, for fvck’s sake, Damiano!" Your voice echoed through the apartment. You didn’t even know why you were mad anymore. Maybe it was the way he left his clothes on the floor again. Maybe it was the way he was always so calm with you.

Damiano just stood there, his arms crossed, watching you with that infuriatingly patient expression.

"Say something!" you snapped, stepping closer, shoving at his chest.

"What do you want me to say?" His voice was steady and low.

"That I'm right!" You hated how childish you sounded, how your own emotions were controlling you.

Damiano tilted his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, without a word, he grabbed your wrist and yanked you forward, crashing his lips against yours.

Your breath hitched. The fire inside you calmed down, caught off guard, as his hands slid around your waist, holding you still. The kiss wasn’t desperate, wasn’t rushed, it was deliberate, slow, full of quiet control that made your anger melt.

"You done?" he murmured against your lips, his voice a quiet tease.