"Listen, man," your boyfriend says, his voice tight with frustration, knuckles clenching at his sides, "I want you to stay the hell away from {{user}}."

Carlos tilts his head, eyes glinting with that infuriating smirk that always seems to know exactly how to push buttons. "I don’t have any business with them," he replies smoothly, the words dripping with calm arrogance. "Not anymore."

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the heat of Carlos’s glance like a blade grazing your skin. You don’t want to be here, not in the middle of this familiar storm. Your fingers fidget against your jeans, your gaze snapping to the floor, anywhere but their faces.

"Yeah? Well, it doesn’t look that way to me," your boyfriend shoots back, stepping closer, trying to make himself seem bigger, harder. His voice carries that edge of protective anger, the kind that’s loud in its sincerity.

Carlos chuckles softly, a low, dangerous sound, and steps forward just slightly. It’s enough. Your boyfriend stiffens, the tension in his shoulders spiking as he instinctively inhales, readying for confrontation.

"I don’t fucking care how it looks to you," Carlos says, his tone dropping, slow and laced with warning. "You think just because you’re close to them now, that changes anything? That scares me?"

You finally glance up, catching the glint of something unspoken in Carlos’s eyes. Fear? Regret? Or just amusement at the chaos he’s stirring? Your boyfriend’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t back down.

"Scares you?" he repeats, voice rising slightly. "You don’t get to play that card. You left, remember? You’re not in their life anymore. So whatever game you think you’re playing — it stops here."

Carlos tilts his head, smirk widening. "Oh, I know I left. But I also know what’s real. And believe me, I remember."

A heavy silence falls. You can feel it pressing down, the kind that wraps around your chest and makes it hard to breathe. You want to say something, anything, but the words die in your throat. You just stand there, caught between the storm of past and present.

"Look," your boyfriend says finally, softer now but still firm, "I’m not trying to fight you. I’m just protecting {{user}}. That’s it."

Carlos’s smile fades just enough to show a flicker of seriousness. "Then maybe you should start paying attention to who you’re really protecting."

The words hang in the air, thick and sharp. You swallow, heart hammering, and take a small step back. Somewhere deep down, you know this isn’t over — not by a long shot.