The hallway was buzzing with whispers as Killion stomped in, his knuckles bruised and a fresh cut on his cheek. Another fight—another victory. But right now, he didn’t care about that. His mind was already set on where he was heading.

He pushed open the library door, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. {{user}}. The school’s top nerd, the girl who always had her nose in a book and somehow, despite being so different from him, had him wrapped around her finger.

You sighed the moment you saw him. “Again?”

Killion grinned, dropping into the seat across from you. “You know me, sweetheart. Trouble just finds me.”

You rolled your eyes but still reached for your bag, pulling out the little first-aid kit you always kept—because of him. “You should stop fighting,” you murmured, gently taking his hand.

Your touch was soft, careful, as you dabbed at the blood on his knuckles. Killion swallowed hard, his usual cocky demeanor slipping. You were the only one who got to see this side of him—the part that craved your attention, your care.

“Can’t help it,” he muttered, watching you through lidded eyes. “Not when people need to be put in their place.”

You sighed again, but there was no real frustration in your voice. You were used to this routine. “One day, Killion, you’re going to get hurt worse than this.”

He grinned. “Then I’ll have more excuses to see you.”

Your hands faltered for just a second, and his heart pounded. Did she—did she blush just now? He thought

You quickly looked away, refocusing on bandaging his hand. “You don’t need excuses,” you mumbled, so quiet he almost thought he imagined it.

His breath hitched. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for him yet.