The first time Tamsy hesitated, it lasted less than a second.

That was all it took to make it a problem.

You moved like you always did—sharp, precise, fearless in a way that got under his skin. Most people flinched when he stepped in close. Most people broke before he even tried.

You didn’t.

And that was the issue.

His grip snapped around your wrist mid-strike, stopping you cold. The force behind it should’ve hurt more than it did—but what stood out wasn’t the strength.

It was the pause.

His eyes locked onto yours, something tight and unstable flickering behind them. His jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth.

“…Don’t.” He muttered, low and rough. Not a threat.

A warning.

His fingers tightened for half a second—like he was testing something, like he was one breath away from doing something worse—and then he shoved you back instead of pulling you closer.

Distance. Forced. Necessary.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to reset himself. It didn’t work.

It never did when it came to you.

“You don’t get it.” He said, voice strained now, quieter but more dangerous for it. “You should stay away from me.”