INT- FIRE'S ROOM - APARTMENT
"No way! How could you do this to me!" I yelled at him.
I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, glaring at Ice, who sat on the couch in the corner like the rude iceberg he was. He still had a cotton ball in his hand and exhaled like a man burdened with the weight of the world.
"There's no way I can agree with that!"
This monster had the audacity to suggest I should stop talking to him, keep my distance, and—worst of all—
The worst of all! He said he wouldn't make me lunch anymore!
My eyes welled up instantly. How could he take that away too? What kind of cruel punishment was this?!
"Can you listen for once?" he groaned, sounding more like a fed-up dad than anything else. He stood up with the cotton in hand.
"Nope!" I shook my head furiously and scooted back until I was nearly in the middle of the bed.
He climbed onto the edge of my mattress, ignoring my retreat, and leaned close enough to press the cotton gently against the scratch on my cheek.
Up this close, his eyes weren't just cold annoyances anymore. For the first time, I could clearly see it—worry. Bare and unguarded. The sight twisted my chest in a way I couldn't quite name.
His touch was so careful, so gentle, like he was afraid I'd break if he pressed too hard. Was I imagining it?
I couldn't help but stare. His lips curved slightly downward, the faintest crease betraying his distress.
Oh. Maybe this was why so many girls liked him. Did they get to see this side of him too?
"Stop staring. It's distracting," he muttered without looking at me.
That was when I realized I'd been gawking.
"You know, you're really cute up close," I teased with a chuckle.
He didn't flinch. His eyes stayed on my wound as he replied flatly, "Then look closer more often."
I puffed my cheeks in a pout at his sarcastic comeback.
The silence after that was strangely comfortable. I let him tend to the scratches on my arms and hands while I sat quietly, resisting the urge to wiggle. Every time I tried to help, he gave me this look—like I couldn't even be trusted with my own injuries. I wasn't sure if I should feel grateful… or offended.
"Will this affect your work?" he finally asked. His voice wasn't sharp this time. It sounded troubled.
I thought for a moment. "Well, maybe a little." I pinched my fingers together, showing "a grain of rice" size. I lied, I'm not really sure either.
"Then why won't you listen? Those people aren't going to stop." He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was an unchangeable truth.
"How is avoiding you supposed to stop that?" I snapped, pulling my arm away from his hold. "That's a stupid solution!"
His eyes widened slightly—yep, I just called him stupid. Oops.
"Besides," I added, lowering my voice to almost a mutter, "it's not all your fault."
"What do you mean? They're only after you because they hate me." He countered, reaching for another cotton ball on the table.
"Well, yes, but—" I hesitated. If I told him, I might end up getting scolded.
"But?" he pressed, returning to sit on the bed. His gaze was calm but expectant, like he wouldn't let me slip away this time.
I looked away, pretending the bedsheets were fascinating, but the dip of the mattress beside me gave him away—he was leaning closer.
"You're going to tell me, or what?" His voice was low, firm. The kind that cornered me even without raising volume.
It could've been romantic—if not for the fact that I felt trapped. Two seconds and I gave in.
"Okay, okay!" I raised both hands in surrender, eyes fixed on my lap like a coward.
"I… may have told Sia that no matter how many times she slapped me, you would never like her." I muttered, then rushed out the rest. "And maybe I mocked her a little because I was mad they wanted to hurt you." Then I gave an awkward giggle.
I glanced up quickly, searching his face for some kind of validation.
But instead, I found his eyes. And they weren't soft. They were angry.
That's when I realized—he was holding both my wrists, pinning down the hands I'd raised in surrender.
"You are one stubborn little kid," he said, voice low and sharp.
Oops.
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Next Chapter:
I really don't understand Ice. How can he be this… this…
Argh, I'm out of words to describe him! Even my vocabulary gave up!
Will he even be okay seeing me again after the semester break? Probably not.
But who cares? …I do.
And that's the problem, isn't it?