They slipped into the back stairwell, the only place quiet enough to breathe. The heavy door clanged shut behind them, muffling the sounds of lockers slamming and voices echoing through the hallways.
She leaned against the cool wall, arms wrapped around herself. Kai stood across from her, pacing in short, restless strides, like a caged animal who couldn't shake the rage that had just burned through him.
Finally, she spoke. Her voice was small. "You scared me back there."
He froze. His jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling too fast. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. Then, barely above a whisper: "I scared myself too."
She blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean?"
Kai dragged a hand through his black hair, eyes dark and heavy with something deeper than anger. "I promised myself I wouldn't lose control like that again. That I wouldn't… snap. But seeing them treat you like that—it felt like watching something I've already lived through, all over again. And I couldn't stop."
There was something in his tone, sharp with memory, raw with guilt. She wanted to ask. Wanted to push. But the words stuck in her throat.
Instead, she whispered, "You don't have to carry it all alone, you know."
He laughed, hollow and bitter. "You say that like you don't do the same thing."
Her lips parted, ready to argue, but the truth of it sat heavy in her chest. He was right. She did carry it alone. Every insult, every whisper, every fake smile—it all stayed bottled inside her where no one could see.
The silence stretched.
Then Kai stepped closer. Not aggressive, not fiery this time—just tentative. Careful. His voice dropped, softer now. "I'm not asking you to trust me. Not yet. But… don't push me away when all I want is to be here."
Her throat tightened. The words tangled inside her, messy and unsure. She wanted to tell him she was scared. She wanted to tell him that his presence felt like both a danger and a lifeline.
Instead, her eyes betrayed her—one hot tear sliding down her cheek.
Kai moved before he thought, thumb brushing it away. His touch lingered, gentle in a way that contradicted the storm he'd unleashed minutes ago.
"I don't care if this is messy," he whispered. "I just don't want to see you hurt anymore."
Her breath caught. Because deep down, she knew—he wasn't just talking about her.