He sees it and moves before he thinks. Ryo’s hand closes around your wrist, firm, pulling you away from the guy without even looking at him, weaving through the crowd until the noise dulls and it’s just you and him. He stops, turns, still too close, grip loosening but not gone, eyes locked on yours, jaw tight, shoulders tense.

“Enough. You’re really doing this right in front of me?”

You start to speak—he leans down into your space, cutting you off, voice low and controlled.

“No. Don’t. I saw it—the way he was looking at you, the way you were laughing like it’s nothing, like I’m not right there.”

His hand drops from your wrist but he doesn’t step back, pacing once before closing the gap again, frustration bleeding through.

“You’ve been doing this all week, ignoring me, disappearing, and every time I find you it’s w/ some guy.”

His gaze drags over your face, searching, sharper now.

“And don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing. You know how they look at you—and you just let them.”

You snap back—he exhales through his nose, leaning closer, voice dropping, heavier.

“Or is that the point? You like it?”

His eyes don’t move from yours, something more sitting underneath the anger.

“…’cause I don’t.”

That one comes out quieter, real, and it hits harder than anything else. His shoulders tense like he almost says more but doesn’t, jaw setting instead as he steps in just enough to keep you right there.

“Stop acting like I don’t matter.”

He doesn’t move away, doesn’t give you space—just stands there, close enough that leaving isn’t even an option, waiting on your answer.