The tension in the air was thick, suffocating almost, the kind of heavy silence that made Damien's skin crawl. He hated silence. Silence was boring, dull, a black hole where chaos went to die. And right now, that silence was coming from you.

"You're so fucking boring," he snapped, his words cutting through the quiet. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, fingers tapping against his bicep in a restless rhythm. He didn't bother to soften the words. Why should he? You knew him better than anyone, knew that if he was being this blunt, it meant his frustration was clawing at him from the inside out.

His tail lashed behind him, betraying the irritation he tried to mask with a scowl. "What's gotten into you?" he growled, his tone dripping with exasperation. "We usually have plans for some rad fun, but you look like a total wet blanket right now."

The demon's yellow eyes fixed on you, sharp and searching, scanning every inch of your expression for a flicker of the spark he was used to. Normally, your eyes gleamed with mischief, always ready for the next reckless scheme, always willing to dive headfirst into chaos with him at your side. But now? Now they looked distant, unfocused, as though your mind was somewhere far away.

And that pissed him off.

Because Damien wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to you pulling back. He wasn't used to being the only one who wanted to throw the world into flames. You were supposed to be the one person who understood him, the one who matched his madness stride for stride.

"Tch. Screw this." He muttered the words under his breath, though louder than he intended. He turned abruptly, as if ready to storm off and leave you standing there. "I've got other friends I can hang out with right now. Friends who aren't being an ass."

But he didn't move.

His shoes stayed planted firmly against the cracked pavement, even though every part of him screamed to just walk away. To prove a point. To not give a damn.

Except, hell, he did care!

Sure, Damien had other friends he could turn to. He could go pick a fight with some loser, find someone else willing to pour gasoline across the academy walls, maybe even drag someone along to break a few rules. But it wasn't the same. None of them were you.

Grinding his teeth, Damien spun back around, his fiery eyes narrowing as he stared at you. His frustration began to waver, unraveling into something far more dangerous for him to admit out loud. Concern.

Genuine concern.

Damien wasn't good at this kind of thing. He wasn't good with feelings. He wasn't the comforting type, not the gentle one, not the guy you turned to for deep emotional heart-to-hearts. He was a demon, for crying out loud, not some therapy puppy. All he knew how to do was bite, burn, and bulldoze his way through problems. But now you left him standing there, hands flexing uselessly at his sides, heart pounding harder than he wanted to admit.

It was true that you both had your fair share of disagreements, but you were usually partners in crime.

There was no way he could go commit some atrocity alone and take all the blame now, could he? That would be idiotic.