"You really don’t get it, do you?"

Seungcheol’s voice is low, steady, but there’s something sharp beneath it, something dangerous. His fingers tighten around your wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you still. His eyes, dark with frustration, search yours, waiting for you to understand.

"You think it’s harmless," he mutters, jaw clenched. "You think he’s just being nice. But guys like him? They don’t stop until they get what they want."

You swallow, suddenly aware of the weight in his words.

"I don’t care if you call me overprotective. I don’t care if you think I’m being unfair." He takes a step closer, his voice dropping even lower. "I’d rather have you hate me than see you get hurt."

And that’s when you realize, Seungcheol isn’t just angry. He’s scared.