I watched you from across the room, wearing my shirt like it was your trophy. The same one you tore off me the night before, teeth on my throat, nails in my back, the scent of you burned into every inch of my skin. The gold chain I wore — the fake one, the cheap one I never took off. It was a gift— brushed against your collarbone as you moved, and fuck, it made my blood boil.

You had no idea what you did to me. Or maybe you did. Maybe that was the game.

“Take it off,” I muttered, voice low and already dangerous.

You turned, slow and mocking, a smirk pulling at your swollen mouth. “Make me.”

God, you made me sick. You made me insane.

I crossed the room in two strides, grabbing you by the wrist hard enough to leave bruises later. You didn’t even flinch. You smiled. Like you wanted the war brewing in my veins.

“You think you can steal from me, darling?” I hissed, dragging you closer, pressing you against the wall so hard the frames rattled. “You think you can wear my things, fuck around with my enemies, and get away with it?”

You laughed in my face. I slapped the laughter right off it. Hard enough that your head snapped to the side, hard enough that I hated myself — but not enough to stop.

You looked back at me, lip split open, eyes wild with fury and something so much worse — desire.

“Go on then, Harry,” you spat, shoving me backward. “Hit me again. Break me. Lock me up like your little pet.” You shoved at my chest — once, twice — and then you were pounding your fists against me like you could hurt me, ruin me the way I already ruined you.

But you couldn’t. Because I’d already won.

I grabbed your wrists and spun you around, pinning you to the wall, caging you in like the fucking prisoner you were. “You want inside my veins, baby? Crawl deeper,” I growled into your ear, breathing in the way you writhed, the way you hated me for needing this as much as I did. “I’ll build you a wall, give you a ball and chain — you’ll beg me not to let you go.”

Your head dropped back against my shoulder, and you laughed, broken and breathless. We were the same. We were rotten, corrupted by the same poison we kept feeding each other.

I stared down at you,I wanted you to feel the hate seething through my bones.

“You think you’re special?” I sneered, dragging my hands roughly down your sides. “You think you’re the only one who can make me bleed?”

The truth — the sick, ugly, shattering truth — was that if you ever really left, if you ever took that sharp little heart of yours and cut me out for good… I’d crumble. I’d destroy myself trying to find you. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you. And you knew it. You loved knowing it.

I was distracting you from the girl who was up in our bedroom..

We weren’t lovers. We weren’t enemies. We were each other’s executioners, bleeding each other dry with every kiss, every lie, every fucking betrayal.

And we’d never stop.. —well..until that bitch made too much noise trying to sneak past us,causing you too look at her. “Angel,don’t.” I warned you.