You barely had time to react.

The hallway was nearly empty after school, the heavy tension hanging in the air as he cornered you against the lockers. His voice was sharp, words pouring out faster than he could control—accusing you of not trusting him, of keeping secrets, of pushing him away when all he ever wanted was for you to lean on him. His fists clenched at his sides, frustration clouding his usually warm gaze.

"You think you can just handle everything alone?" he shouted, voice cracking with anger and something dangerously close to heartbreak. "You think you don't need anyone? You think I don't care?!"

You didn’t argue. You didn’t yell back. Instead, you did the only thing you knew could reach him—you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

At first, he stiffened, like he didn’t know what to do with the sudden gentleness. His hands hovered in the air, lost. But slowly, slowly, you felt him sink into you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his breathing ragged.

Finally, in a voice so low it almost broke, he muttered, "I hate you... for making me need you this much."