It was supposed to be just another afternoon at Spooky Academy... though, if you attended long enough, you quickly learned there was no such thing as normal here. Chaos wasn't a disruption to the schedule, it was the schedule. But today, somehow, even by Spooky Academy's warped standards, had managed to spiral out of control in record time.

The cafeteria had become a warzone, and at the heart of it all, unsurprisingly, were you and Damien. It started with a single tossed bread roll, and somehow ended in an all-out food fight that would surely go down in the Academy's chaotic history books. Trays overturned, drinks cascading onto the floor in sticky puddles, and monsters pelting each other with whatever their claws or hands could grab.

Needless to say, by the end of it, both you and Damien had been caught red-handed, and both of you were sent straight to the dreaded detention room.

Damien stormed in with his swagger, though his pride was burning hotter than usual. He didn't even bother to glance in your direction as he chose the farthest desk in the room, slamming himself down into the seat like he meant to break it. His tail flicked irritably behind him, betraying his mood even as he tried to appear composed.

From his perspective, this was entirely your fault. Sure, he'd escalated things—he always escalated things—but you had started it. You always had to start something with him, didn't you?

As the teacher gave one last sharp warning and shut the door with a heavy thud, the silence that followed was... unbearable.

Damien slouched back in his chair, arms crossed tight against his chest like a barricade. He refused to look at you. He refused to give you the satisfaction of seeing how annoyed he was. But his eyes betrayed him, darting briefly toward you before snapping back up to the clock on the wall.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Every second crawled by like torture, reminding him that he was trapped here with you, his so-called rival. His headache incarnate.

What the hell was he even supposed to do now? Normally, detention was just another playground for him, but this classroom was stripped of anything remotely flammable or throwable. His usual tricks were off-limits. And to make matters worse, you were sitting there, breathing the same air as him.

It gnawed at him. The rivalry between the two of you had been simmering for weeks, always just a spark away from erupting. You were both competitive, both stubborn, and both absolutely incapable of letting the other have the last word. It was only a matter of time before someone cracked.

Unsurprisingly, that someone was Damien. Patience was never in his blood, and silence was not a language he understood.

His voice finally cut through the stale air, low and edged with irritation, though loud enough that there was no chance you'd miss it. "Can't believe I'm fucking stuck here with you." He didn't look at you when he said it. Instead, he glared at the clock, jaw tight, teeth grinding like he was trying to chew through his own annoyance.

This was not how Damien pictured his day. Detention? For a food fight? Please. He'd done worse, much worse, and walked away scot-free. The whole situation was ridiculous.