Harry’s room was a mess. Papers littered the floor like fallen leaves as he paced back and forth, his jaw tight and his fists clenching with every step. His blonde hair was disheveled from dragging his hands through it one too many times.

By the window, Alex leaned with deliberate calm, a cigarette smouldering between his fingers. His brown skin caught the faint glow from the streetlamps outside, his eyes fixed on Harry with an expression caught between irritation and amusement.

“You are insufferable,” Harry snapped, his voice breaking the silence of the room.

Alex exhaled smoke slowly, letting it curl toward the ceiling. “You think I am the problem. You were the one who lost your temper in front of everyone.”

“Because you do not know when to stop,” Harry shot back. He snatched another paper from the desk and threw it aside, his frustration sparking like fire. “You push and push until I have nothing left to give but anger.”

Alex tilted his head, his voice lower now, almost soft. “Perhaps I push because you hide. Because you will never say what you mean unless I drag it out of you.”

Harry froze mid-step. His chest rose and fell too quickly, and for a moment his anger slipped away, leaving only something vulnerable. He looked at Alex, who was still leaning against the window, smoke hanging in the air between them like a fragile curtain.

“You think I do not want to say it?” Harry whispered. “You think I do not feel it every bloody time you walk into a room?”