the pencil in vance's hand gave a small grunt as his fingers dangerously throated to break it. but his eyes were not on the paper he was supposed to be doing, no, they were across the library where you, his partner, was being asked ― well, demanded of ― to give homework answers.

the boy that was asking was smart ― vance would give him that. not academically, but in the terms that he had waited for you to split from vance's protective bubble. the worst part? you were actually helping him, both you and the boy leaned over a small desk while you pointed things out and helped.

below his mildly frustrated scowl, was some deep rooted jealously. why were you helping him? he was being a complete jerk, and yet, you continued to give him your focus!

well, vance was never one to keep a lid over his ever-bubbling anger. and it spilled the second the boy grasped your arm in a tight, threatening hold when you wouldn't outwardly hand over the answer.

his fist has collided with a skull the moment his feet had moved him over to you both. the boy stumbled backward, crying out in sudden pain and surprise. you were suddenly stepping back to avoid the angered, curly haired boy that separated you from the other.

"the hell are you doin'? huh?" vance snapped, raising his fist again to once more strike at the winded, stammering boy.