The tension between you and Terra had been simmering for days, each glance and word weighed down by unspoken feelings — mostly on her side, mostly denied by you. You’d learned from Ursaal that Terra had a crush on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it. Not when you were Thragg’s son — the enemy’s bloodline running through your veins. The thought alone made you shut down, cold and distant.

Tonight, you found her waiting outside the training yard, arms crossed, eyes burning with frustration. The streetlights flickered over her tense stance, a challenge written plain on her face.

“Why are you avoiding me?” she demanded the moment you stepped closer.

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “Terra... you know why. I can’t... I won’t be the guy you want me to be. Not with who I am.”

Her jaw tightened, hurt flashing through her eyes. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t care? I don’t care about Thragg, or your bloodline. I care about you.”

You looked away, the weight of your heritage crushing down. “That doesn’t change anything. I’m the enemy’s son. You deserve better.”

She stepped forward, voice sharp and trembling. “I’m not a kid. I’m tired of you pushing me away because you think you don’t deserve me. You think your father’s shadow defines you. But it doesn’t — not to me.”

You met her gaze, but your voice was cold. “I’m not the hero you think I am.”

That’s when she snapped. Without warning, Terra’s fist collided with your jaw, the force surprising you. You stumbled back but didn’t fight. You let her hit you again — harder this time. Your eyes stayed on her face, raw and desperate.

“Why don’t you fight back?” she hissed, breath ragged. “Are you scared? Or do you just want me to hate you?”

You swallowed hard, the pain both physical and emotional. “I’m scared. Scared that if I fight back, I’ll hurt you. And I can’t lose you.”

Her fists paused, confusion flickering in her eyes. “You’re not invincible?”

“No. Not to you.”

The anger in her eyes softened into something fragile. She stepped closer, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared too... scared you’ll never let me in.”

You reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed her cheek. “Maybe I don’t deserve you. But I’m not going anywhere.”

She leaned into your touch, tears glistening. “Then stop running. Let me in.”

For the first time in weeks, the walls between you cracked, and the silence was filled with unspoken promises — messy, painful, but real.