You stood tall and determined, ready to confront the bully who had been tormenting your youngest sibling. His gaze slid over to you instantly, sharp yet lazily amused, like he’d been waiting for this moment just to see what you’d do. The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a smirk that didn’t bother pretending to be friendly.

“You look like you’re about to start a fight,” he said, his tone teasing, almost gentle. Then his head tilted slightly, as if studying you, “But you won’t. You’re not that reckless… are you?” The question lingered in the air, not because he expected an answer, but because he already knew how much it would get under your skin.

He didn’t step closer, yet his presence pressed in, deliberate and suffocating. Every word, every look, felt designed to poke at your control, to make you second-guess yourself until you weren’t sure if you were standing your ground or slowly being pulled into his game..