Ryan hadn't meant to react.
He hadn't meant to let Kia's soft voice sink past his defenses.
He hadn't meant to let the words touch the old, bleeding parts of him.
But when Kia said:
"You don't have to face it alone anymore."
Something inside Ryan snapped.
Alone?
Alone?
His breath hitched, chest tightening with a fury so sharp it burned.
He marched to the door, fists clenched at his sides, his voice shaking with rage and pain he could no longer swallow.
"SHUT UP!"
Kia froze on the other side.
Ryan pounded the door with his palm.
"SHUT UP AND MOVE AWAY FROM MY DOOR!"
The hallway went silent.
Kia didn't move — but he didn't speak either.
Ryan's voice came again, cracking like a whip:
"DON'T YOU DARE— DON'T YOU DARE say I'm not alone!"
Kia's breath caught, shock flickering through him.
Ryan's voice lowered, but it trembled viciously, full of old wounds ripping open.
"Where were you?"
His teeth clenched painfully.
"Where the hell were you five years ago, Kia?"
Kia felt his stomach drop.
Ryan stepped back from the door like it was burning him.
"You think you can just show up and— and say nonsense?" Ryan's voice broke mid-sentence. "You don't know anything!"
Kia slowly stood up, heart pounding.
"Ryan… what—"
"SHUT UP!" Ryan yelled again, voice raw.
"Just… shut up, you STUPID—"
Kia closed his eyes, letting the insult hit him.
"And you are stupid," Ryan spat harshly.
"A stupid, blind, useless IDIOT!"
Kia swallowed, jaw tightening but accepting every word.
"Yes," he whispered back softly.
"I am."
Ryan's breath faltered at how easily he accepted it — but he continued, unable to stop.
"You're an idiot!"
"Yes."
"You're a fool!"
"Yes."
"You're— you're the most brainless jerk I've ever met!"
"Yes… I am."
His calm acceptance only made Ryan shake harder.
"WHY are you agreeing?!"
"Because," Kia said quietly, leaning against the door with his forehead,
"I'd rather you scream at me than shut me out."
Ryan's breath caught.
He hated how that line hit him.
He hated how Kia's voice softened like it cared — like it always cared too late.
He turned away from the door, fists trembling, voice cracking:
"You don't get it… you don't get ANYTHING…"
Kia's voice was barely a breath.
"Then explain it to me."
"No," Ryan whispered, wiping his face roughly.
"I don't owe you a damn thing."
He backed away, chest shaking as more memories slammed into him — the breakup, the betrayal, his parents, running away, being pregnant and terrified, giving birth alone, raising twins overseas with NOTHING.
Kia spoke again, softer but shaking.
"Ryan… please… let me understand what I broke."
Ryan's breath hitched painfully.
Understanding it would mean opening old wounds.
He wasn't ready.
"Go away, Kia," Ryan whispered fiercely.
"I don't want to see you right now."