patts°`

you couldn’t believe what you heard from percy.

you couldn’t even remember when the ringing in your ears started—whether it happened right after he told you about luke’s plan or whether it had already been there long before this moment, slowly building every time luke pulled further and further away from you. all you knew was that your chest felt unbearably tight, like your body already understood something your mind was still trying to reject.

the past few days have been strange. luke had grown colder in ways that frightened you because they were subtle enough to excuse if you wanted to. he stopped seeking you out during dinner, stopped lingering around your cabin late at night with that lazy grin on his face, stopped brushing his fingers against yours whenever he passed by you like he couldn’t help himself. every conversation felt clipped and unfinished, like part of him was somewhere else entirely.

you tried convincing yourself it was nothing. but you were also just a girl hopelessly in love, and when the person you love starts pulling away, your mind begins filling the silence with every terrible possibility it can find. you thought maybe there was someone else. someone easier to love. someone less complicated. someone who didn’t know every soft part of him and therefore couldn’t break him just by looking at him.

turns out you were right, there was someone else. it just wasn’t another girl. it was kronos.

“i told you already, you’re not gonna find him in the woods.” percy’s voice came from behind you, quieter than usual as the leaves crunched beneath his shoes. “he left.”

you shook your head immediately, gripping the sleeves of your jacket tighter around yourself. “luke wouldn’t leave without telling me.”

percy’s expression shifted into something painfully close to pity. “he just did.”

another crack formed inside your chest. still, you kept walking. “where did you say he went?”

all you heard was his tired sigh. when you turned around, he was already looking at you like he knew this was going to destroy you and hated that he couldn’t stop it.

“percy, please.”

“i tol you, he’s gone,” he repeated carefully. “he made a portal and disappeared. i don’t know where he went. you’re probably never gonna see him here again.” his voice softened near the end. “i’m really sorry.”

you swallowed against the ache in your throat. “i’ll find him.”

and find him, you did.

it took weeks for chiron to finally approve your plan because every argument against it was reasonable. it was dangerous to leave camp alone, dangerous to search for a traitor, dangerous to believe the boy everyone warned you about was still worth saving.

but none of those things scared you. because to everyone else, luke castellan was becoming a monster. 

to you however, he was still the boy who sat beside you during thunderstorms because you hated lightning, the boy who remembered every little thing about you without trying, the boy who once whispered promises against your skin like he truly believed he’d live long enough to keep them. you couldn’t stop loving him just because everybody else had started fearing him.

with a heart full of doubt, you followed the information hermes had given you. he mentioned something about luke gathering rogue demigods at the beach just outside camp grounds, building support for whatever coup he was planning. you wanted to reject the idea entirely because it sounded too cruel, too unlike luke, but doubt had already started rotting inside you long ago.

the walk through the woods felt endless and by the time you reached the shoreline, exhaustion clung to your body. but the moment you spotted him standing near the water, every feeling inside you sharpened painfully all at once.

luke stood a few feet ahead, surrounded by unfamiliar demigods. his arms were crossed over his chest, expression serious as he spoke to them. even from far away, you recognized every little mannerism—the slight furrow between his brows whenever he focused, the way his lips pressed together after saying something important, the impatient tapping of his fingers against his arm.

not realizing that you had stopped walking, one of the boys near him noticed you staring right at them. “captain,” he muttered cautiously, pointing in your direction.

luke turned instantly, hand flying towards his pocket, where you guess, he now keeps his dagger in. the others reacted just as quickly, weapons shifting toward you with sharp distrust. but the moment his eyes landed on your face, everything in him changed.

hand slowly moving away from the blade, it made its way up, “hold,” he ordered quietly. the others obeyed immediately.

it's almost like a reflex, the way your feet moved towards him—almost as if they were finding their way home. when you finally stopped in front of him, your throat tightened so painfully that the only thing you could think to ask was, “how are you?”

one of the men behind him snorted softly. “who’s this?”

“looks like she’s one of us,” another added.

luke stared at you for a long moment before answering flatly, “she’s a friend.”

a friend. the words slid into your chest like something sharp and rusted.

before you could even process the hurt properly, another order came out of his mouth, “you guys get on the ship, i’ll come after.” they all did what he said and dispersed as soon as they could, almost as if disobeying would cost them their life.

another voice spoke, a girl this time. she stood near the ship behind them, eyes narrowed as she looked between the two of you. “captain,” she corrected herself after nearly saying his name. “don’t let the melody of the birds cloud your mind.”

something flickered across luke’s face after hearing that. whether it was guilt, hesitation or fear, you couldn’t tell anymore. he waited until everyone boarded before finally facing you fully, “how did you find me?”

“the gods are all-knowing.”

he laughed bitterly under his breath. “of course. the gods.” he repeated your words mockingly before dragging his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “you shouldn’t have come.”

“i needed to.” your voice cracked despite your efforts to steady it. “you need me to save you from this.”

“save me?” the moment he looked directly into your eyes, his expression faltered almost imperceptibly. you saw it happen. the brief crack in his facade, and maybe, that was what gave you the courage to keep going. “you know there’s no saving me.”

slightly shaking your head, trying to find composure and not break in front of him right then and there, “no, i don’t. and you don’t know that either. please just give me a chance to—”

“chance to what? you can’t change my mind.” he firmly says, “this,” pointing right to his temple, “my mind, it’s full of poison. and it’s because of the all knowing gods you seem to believe so much in!” using your words against you.

gods, you tried so hard. but standing in front of him felt like watching someone drown while they insisted on pulling themselves deeper. “luke, please,” you whispered. “we can fight them another way. we can make things better without this.”

reaching for his hands instinctively, you were desperate for something familiar. hoping that the warmth of your palm could melt the coldness that now covers his heart, hoping for proof that the boy you loved was still somewhere inside him. for one terrible second, his fingers twitched against yours like he almost held on back.

then he shoved your hands away, “fight them with what?” he snapped. “hope? a little rebellion? love?” his voice grew sharper and more emotional with every word. “disobey the gods and they crush you. look at what happened to thalia.”

there it was. the wound that never stopped bleeding. of course she’s a huge part of why luke was doing this. to avenge thalia, avenge himself, avenge little annabeth, avenge every abandoned demigod who spent their entire lives begging to matter to the people who created them.

you could see it now, written all over his face. this wasn’t ambition nor was it greed. it was grief left untreated for way too long. “if you came here hoping to change my mind,” he said more quietly now, exhaustion sinking into his features, “you should just leave.”

he looked tired, not physically, something worse. he looked like someone who had already buried himself a long time ago and was simply waiting for the rest of the world to notice.

left with nothing, all you could say was, “i love you, luke.”

his entire body stiffened. you watched his throat bob slightly. watched his eyes close for half a second longer than normal, like your words physically hurt him.

“it doesn’t matter how your love feels anymore.” the words tasted rotten in his mouth the moment they left it.

every part of him wanted to take them back the second he saw the way your expression faltered, but he forced himself to continue because cruelty was the only thing he had left that might still push you away from him. kindness would only make you stay. and gods, if you stayed any longer, he knew he would break.

“love by itself will never be the cure,” he said quietly, each word sounding strained, like he had to drag them painfully out of himself.

it was low, and he knew it. he knew it especially because of you, and the way you always spoke about your mother with so much warmth—you were the kind of person who still believed love could soften even the cruelest parts of the world. you believed love healed people. you believed it saved them.

and maybe once upon a time, luke had wanted to believe that too. but now he was standing in front of you trying to destroy that belief with his bare hands, because if you kept loving him like this, you would follow him straight into ruin.

still, despite the ache splitting through your chest, you forced yourself to stand your ground. because beneath every cruel thing leaving his mouth, you could still hear the desperation in it. luke wasn’t trying to hurt you because he hated you. he was hurting you because he thought it was the only way he could make you leave him behind.

“please, luke,” you begged, your voice breaking under the weight of everything you had been carrying since the moment he disappeared. “just come back. i miss you. everyone does.”

his lips twitched at that, the movement so small you almost missed it. for one dangerous second, you thought he might finally crack and say it back. i miss you too. you could see it in the way his expression softened against his will.

but then allison’s voice echoed sharply in the back of his mind. don’t let the melody of the birds cloud your mind. his jaw tightened immediately after. whatever softness had surfaced disappeared beneath something harsher and colder.

“you think i believe that?” he asked bitterly, though his voice betrayed him halfway through, emotion splintering through the anger. “everyone thinks i’m a fool and a traitor.”

“they don’t know you like i do,” you said quickly, stepping closer before he could retreat into himself again. “they don’t know what you’ve been through, or why you’re angry, or how much you’ve sacrificed for people your entire life. they only see what happened, but i still see you.”

your voice softened near the end, almost trembling now. “and maybe everyone else stopped trying to understand you, but i didn’t.”

there you see the exhaustion underneath all the rage he kept wearing like armor. he looked away from you sharply, his chest rose unevenly before he laughed once under his breath, humorless and tired.

“that’s the problem,” he murmured. “you still look at me like there’s something left worth saving.” his eyes met yours again then, and whatever restraint he had left finally started unraveling. “do you think i don’t wake up every day wishing you were enough to make me stay?”

“luke…”

“i loved you before all of this,” he admitted quietly, tears gathering in his eyes despite how hard he fought them back. “that’s exactly why you need to go.”

that shattered you the most, because right then and there, luke had unraveled himself and told you the truth. he loved you, he does, and he was still choosing this. but he loved you, and that’s honestly everything you needed to hear.

knowing no amount of words could really flip his world around anymore, you pulled the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. at first, his lips pushed against you, his hands to grab your waist with heartbreaking desperation, enough for him to kiss you back like he remembered every soft thing he was about to lose forever. the kiss tasted like grief. like longing stretched too thin. like two people trying to hold onto each other while the world split open beneath them.

for one horrible moment, you felt him lean into you fully. your luke. the boy who laughed too loudly, who stole extra strawberries for you during dinner, who held your hand beneath the table like it was instinct rather than choice.

then he aggressively tore himself away from you, “stop!” his voice came out strained, almost angry at how weak he sounded.

the force he used pushing you back sent you stumbling onto the sand. immediately, guilt flashed across his face and he instinctively moved toward you before stopping himself halfway, hands trembling at his sides.

“look at me,” he whispered harshly. “look at what i am.”

tears finally spilled down your cheeks.

“i got hate and toxins flowing in my bloodstream,” he continued, kneeling in front of you despite himself. “you can spend the rest of your life trying to suck it out of me, but it will never be enough.” his voice cracked violently now. “this is who i am.”

you shook your head desperately, trying to change his mind. but luke only smiled sadly, and somehow that hurt worse than if he had yelled.

“you keep loving me like i’m still someone worth saving,” he murmured. “and maybe that’s the cruelest thing you could do to yourself.” his fingers twitched again, before reaching for you and cupping your face. “i’m the luckiest bastard alive because i got to be loved by you,” he whispered. “but your love is smaller than the war i have to win.”

for a moment, you saw him again, not the captain or the traitor, especially not kronos’ chosen boy. you see luke, the boy you loved. and somehow that made losing him hurt even more. because he was still there, buried beneath all the anger and grief and poison, but still there. 

your lips parted slightly, another plea already forming at the tip of your tongue, but luke suddenly looked away from you, jaw tightening so hard it almost looked painful. it was as if looking at you for too long physically weakened him, like every second spent near you chipped away at the resolve he had spent months building.

behind him, the waves crashed violently against the shore, but they still weren’t loud enough to drown the sound of his uneven breathing.

“captain?” one of the men from the ship called cautiously.

luke closed his eyes briefly, when he opened them again, something inside him had hardened.

he stood up and says, “take her back to camp.”

your breath caught, the words didn’t even sound real at first.

one of the demigods hesitated. “what?”

“i said take her back.” his voice came out sharper this time, like he needed to make himself cruel enough to survive this. “make sure she gets there safely.”

“luke…” he flinched at the sound of your shaking voice. it was small, almost unnoticeable, but you saw it—you had spent too many years loving him not to notice every little crack in him.

two people slowly approached you, hesitant like they almost felt guilty for what they were about to do. you stepped back immediately, eyes never leaving luke. “no. no! luke!” he still wouldn’t look at you.

anger and desperation finally started clawing their way up your throat. “don’t do this.” you cried. “don’t stand there and act like this is goodbye.” his hands curled tightly into fists at his sides.

“please,” you whispered now, tears slipping freely down your face. “please don’t send me away.” for one horrible second, you thought he might break.

his head turned slightly toward you, and the expression on his face nearly destroyed you. because beneath all the coldness, all the bitterness, there was grief—raw, unbearable grief. the kind that comes from ripping your own heart out with your bare hands because you believe it’s the only way to survive.

his lips parted slightly, like he almost said your name, almost told them to stop. like he almost chose you. but then his gaze flickered toward the ship behind him, toward the people waiting for his orders, toward the war he had already thrown himself into so completely that he no longer knew how to crawl back out of it.

and just like that, the softness vanished again.

“take her home,” he repeated quietly.

the demigods finally grabbed your arms despite your resistance. immediately, panic surged through you.

“luke!” you fought against their grip, twisting desperately as they started dragging you backward across the sand. “luke, please!”

he stood completely still, and that hurt more than anything.

you would have rather he yelled at you.. would have rather he looked angry or cruel or hateful. but instead he just stood there looking devastated, like he was watching something precious being taken from him while knowing he was the one who ordered it.

“i hate you!” you cried out, though even you could hear the heartbreak bleeding through the lie. “i hate you for making me leave!”

that finally made him react. his expression crumpled for only a second before he looked away sharply, throat stiffening hard enough that you knew he was trying not to fall apart in front of everyone.

the last thing you saw before the trees swallowed him from your view was luke taking a shaky step backward, one hand covering his mouth as though holding himself together had suddenly become physically painful.

and even then, even after everything, he still couldn’t bring himself to watch you go.

You were reminded of this fact every time he opened his mouth, and unfortunately, he was doing a lot of that today.

“Do you have to pace?” you muttered from the couch, flipping another page in the grimoire you were supposed to be studying. “You're giving me secondhand anxiety.”

Kai stopped mid-step, turned with theatrical flair, and cocked his head at you. “Well, I could sit. But I'd have to sit next to you. And given how high-strung you are, I'm not sure that's a safe idea.” 

You didn't bother looking up. “Please. You’d be lucky to sit next to me.”

“Oh, believe me,” he said, strolling over anyway, “I am very aware of how lucky I am.”

He dropped down beside you with zero regard for personal space. His thigh brushed yours. On purpose.

You inched away. “I don't remember inviting you over.”

He reached for the edge of the grimoire, tugging it down so you had to meet his eyes. “You didn't. But you looked lonely. All that brainpower, no one to irritate you into using it.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” you said, dry. “I was ignoring you successfully before you sat down.”

“Lies,” he grinned. “You live for my attention.”

You rolled your eyes. “I live for the day Damon snaps your neck and leaves you in a ditch.”

Kai clutched his chest, mock-wounded. “Ouch. So violent. Do all your crushes get death threats or am I just special?”

You snapped the book shut and turned to face him. “You're not special kai. You're annoying. Like a mosquito in human form.”

“Then why haven't you swatted me yet?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, then sighed. 

“Because you'd probably enjoy it.”

He leaned in, smirking. “You're not wrong.”

You met his eyes, that signature glint of chaos dancing in his expression. His proximity ws infuriating. Not because it made you uncomfortable- but because it didn't.

His presence was magnetic in the most inconvenient way possible.

“You really have no shame,” you said, voice flat.

“Why would i?” he asked, tilting his head. “Shames just insecurity with bad PR.”

You snorted despite yourself.

He lit up. “Was that a laugh? Are you enjoying my company?”

“Don't get excited,” you said quickly. “It was a pity laugh.”

“Mm-hm,” he hummend, still grinning. “You know, the more you insult me, the more I think you like me.”

“And the more you talk,” you replied, “the more I think about setting you on fire.”

Kai leaned even closer, breath warm against your cheek. “Kinky.”

You shoved his shoulder, but he didn't move far. Just enough to flash you that irritatingly perfect smile, the one that made you want to kiss him and slap him in equal measure.

“I'm serious,” you muttered.

“About the fire?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Because if it's a slow burn, I'm all in.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “You're unbelievable.” 

“I've been told.”

You sighed, shook your head, and turned away- only for him to casually drape his arm across the back of the couch behind you. Not touching. Not quite. But there.

“You want me to leave?” he asked.

Yes, you should’ve said. Instead, what came out was, “only if you take your ego with you.”

“So never?” he teased.

You glanced sideways at him, caught the gleam in his eye, the hint of something sharper beneath the grin.

“I hate you,” you said

His smirk softened, just for a heartbeat, “No, you don't.”

Your jaw clenched. You turned away, eyes on the grimoire again, pretending to skim the text, but your heart was thudding too loudly in your chest to read a single word. You felt the heat of him beside you, the slow drag of his gaze across your profile. He was watching you, waiting. Not with that usual smug satisfaction he wore like cologne, but with something quieter. Hungrier.

“I should, you muttered, flipping a page just to do something with your hands. “You're arrogant. Obnoxious. Completely incapable of shutting up.”

He leaned in closer. “You forgot devastatingly handsome.”

You gave him a flat look. “I was being generous.”

Kais fingers brushed your wrist, light, barely there, but enough to send a shiver straight through you.

“And yet,” he said softly, “you haven't moved.”

You hated that he was right. Hated it even more that you didn't want to move.

“Maybe I'm just waiting for the right moment to hex you.”

He laughed under his breath, the sound low and genuine. “You know what your problem is?”

“Oh, please,” you said, crossing your arms. “Do enlighten me.”

“You want to hate me. You tell yourself you should. But you don't.”

Your pulse spiked. “You're delusional.”

He shifted, sliding his hand across the back of the couch until his fingers ghosted against your shoulder. You could smell him now, cedar, magic, something stormy and charged beneath the surface. 

“Maybe,” he said, voice lower now, more careful. “But I know what I see when you look at me. It's not just an annoyance. Or disgust. Not even close.”

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.

“Don't flatter yourself,” you said again, quieter this time.

He smiled, smaller now. Not mocking. Not teasing. Just..present. Real.

“Flattery’s boring,” he said. “I’d rather tell you the truth.”

You glanced at him, really looked this time, and saw it, the way his mask had slipped just slightly. He wasn't trying to manipulate. Not this time. This was kai without the showmanship, without the deflection. Dangerous, yes. But honest.

It was unsettling. 

Worse, it was disarming.

And you hated that even more.

You shifted your posture, straightening your spine like it might somehow reestablish control. “You always talk this much, or is it just a nervous tic when someone isn't impressed by your personality?”

His lips curled. “I dont think youre unimpressed. I think you're trying really hard to be.”

You snorted. “What gave it away, the eye-roll or the deep, bone deep loathing?”

“Neither,” he said smoothly. “It's the fact that you still haven't hexed me. Which, for a self-proclaimed hater, is kind of suspicious.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but didn't. Mostly because he was right, and partially because you couldn't stop noticing how close he was again. The kind of close that made it very obvious he had no concept of boundaries. Or maybe he just didn't care. He was Kai Parker, after all. Personal space was a myth and the rules didn't apply.

He leaned in just slightly, not enough to be obvious, but enough to make your breath catch. “If you wanted me gone,” he murmured, “you wouldn't still be sitting here playing spellbook footsie with me.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I am not-”

He nudged your ankle with his under the table.

“You just did it again,” he said innocently.

You glared. “You're insufferable.”

He grinned. “Yet here we are. Suffering together.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You know, there are probably potions that could fix your personality.”

“And yet,” he said, tapping the grimoire in your lap, “you're not brewing any.”

You tilted your head. “Maybe I'm saving them for something worse.”

“Worse than me?” he gave you an exaggerated look of disbelief. “What could possibly be worse than me?”

“You with a megaphone.”

He laughed. Actually laughed. It was a sound that scraped under your skin in a way you weren't prepared for. Too genuine. Too easy.

You hate that he could do that, disarm you, rile you up, get under your skin like some spell you didn't remember casting.

“Admit it,” he said, voice low, almost sing-song. “You like me. A little.”

“I like you the way people like thunderstorms,” you shot back. “Exciting from far away. Catastrophic up close.”

He let out a low whistle. “Damn. That was poetic. Almost turned me on.”

You rolled your eyes again, sharper this time. “Do you ever stop?”

He pretended to think about it. “Nope. But you like that about me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” you said, but your voice didn't have the bite it shouldve.

Because somewhere in the middle of all the sarcasm, the distance had strunk again. His knee was brushing yours. His hand, casually thrown across the back of the couch, was just barley behind your shoulders. Like he might let it drop, or maybe he wouldn't. Like he knew exactly what kind of game he was playing.

And damn it, you were playing it too.

Which only made you more irritated.

You leaned just slightly away, breaking the proximity like it was no big deal, even though your heart was thudding like you'd just sprinted through a spell. “You always this handsy, or am I just special?”

He didn't miss a beat. “You're definitely special. Most people would’ve stormed off by now. But not you. You're just sitting there, soaking in my presence like its sunlight.”

“More like a migraine,” you muttered.

He gave a dramatic sigh and rested his chin on his hand studying you. “You’re like the mean girl I never got to have a crush on in high school.”

You raised a brow. “Let me guess- you were too busy stabbing classmates with pencils and emotionally scarring your siblings?”

He made a face. “Wow. You have been reading my file.”

“I skimmed it,” you said casually. “Right between ‘homicidal tendencies’ and ‘chronic inability to shut up.’”

His mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “And here you are, trading insults with me instead of helping Damon with the ritual prep. Almost like you'd rather be here.”

“Don't flatter yourself again. Damon asked me to babysit you.”

“Mm. And what an excellent job you're doing.” his gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second, so quick you almost missed it. Almost. “You've only threatened my life three times today. That's practically foreplay.” 

You shot him a glare, but your pulse betrayed you. He was annoying. Infuriating. He poked at your nerves like a kid with a stick and zero self-preservation instincts.

But he also had that maddening glint in his eye, the one that said he saw through your carefully sharpened sarcasm like it was glass.

You shifted again, closing the grimoire and setting it aside with a snap. “If you think this is foreplay, your standards are worse than your haircut.”

He scoffed, flicking a hand through his perfectly tousled hair. “Low blow. You wound me.”

“Not yet,” you muttered, stretching your legs out. One accidentally brushed his. You didn't move.

He noticed. His smirk deepened. “Careful, sweetheart. You keep doing that, I'm gonna think you want me to flirt with you.”

You scoffed. “If I wanted you to flirt with me, I'd be unconscious.” 

He leaned in, just slightly. “Weird. Because your body language is giving mixed signals.”

“You're imagining things.” 

“You're imagining me.” his grin was all teeth now, the kind that said he knew he was getting under your skin. “And don't bother denying it. I've seen the way you stare when you think I'm not looking.”

You raised an unimpressed brow. “Trust me, if I were fantasizing about you, it'd be in the context of punching you in the face.”

He grinned wider. “Kinky.” 

You groaned and stood, needing space. “You know, I came here to help with the prison world spell, not participate in whatever twisted flirting olympics you think this is.”

He followed suit, standing far to close again. “You say that, but I noticed you haven't left.”

You turned around slowly, giving him the kind of look that could curdle milk. “That's because Damon said, and i quote, ‘Don't let Kai kill anyone or monologue for more than two minutes.’”

He raised a hand, mock-solemn. “I've been mostly good.”

“Mostly isn't reassuring when your idea of ‘good’ includes setting things on fire for dramatic effect.”

“Hey,” he said, voice light, “magics supposed to be fun. You're just mad because I'm better at it.”

You spun around to face him, crossing your arms. “You're not better at it. You're just louder.”

He grinned again, taking one step closer, voice dropping just slightly. “Loud gets results, baby.”

You stared him down, not flinching, not stepping back. The air between you crackled, not with magic this time, but something far more inconvenient.

Tension.

Unspoken and unacknowledged and absolutely there. 

“Careful,” you said, your voice soft and sharp all at once. “Keep talking like that and I might forget how much I want to throw you into the nearest wall.”

He tilted his head. “And I might forget how much I like watching you pretend you don't enjoy this.”

Your smile was slow and hesitant. “Enjoy what?”

He leaned in, close, but not close enough to touch. “Me.” 

You held his gaze a second too long. Then, with an airy little shrug, you turned and walked past him, deliberately brushing his shoulder.

“Keep dreaming, Parker.” you called over your shoulder, striding toward the back room where the older grimoires were kept, half to actually grab one and half to get some distance before your mouth said something your brain couldn't recover from.

Behind you, you heard Kai chuckle softly. Then footsteps.

Of course he was following.

“Not dreaming,” he called. “Manifesting.”

You rolled your eyes but didn't turn around. “Manifesting what, exactly? A restraining order?”

“I was thinking more like a mutual confession of irresistible sexual tension, followed by a spontaneous make-out sesh, but hey, same vibe.”

You reached the library alcove and ran your fingers along the spines of the older tomes. “You need help,” you muttered.

“I need therapy,” he said, suddenly much closer, “but you'll do in a pinch.”

You turned, ready to deliver another cutting remark, but he was right there. No space. No warning. Just Kai, all sharp smirk and charged air and too blue eyes that didn't look so amused now.

“Back off, Parker,” you said, but it didn't come out as firm as you wanted.

“I would,” he murmured, “but I don't really feel like it.”

You took a step back. Bad move.

You hit the bookcase behind you with a dull thud and kai stepped forward in perfect sync, closing the gap. One hand braced casually above your shoulder. The other hovered just slightly at your side, like he was debating whether or not to touch you. His eyes flicked over your face, hungry but still playing the game.

Your breath caught, and not just from the proximity.

“You’re in my space.” you said, voice tight.

He tilted his head. “You came in here. I just followed.”

“To get away from you.”

He smiled. “And yet here we are.”

Your heart pounding. Every nerve buzzed, alight and off balance. You were toeing the edge of something reckless, and he was loving it.

“You really think you can just back me into a wall and I'll fall at your feet?” you asked, trying to sound unimpressed. You didn't quite nail it.

He leaned in, his lips ghosting close to your jaw, breath warm. “No,” he whispered. “I think you’ll fight it. Hate it. And then you’ll kiss me like it's the worst decision you’ve ever made.”

Your fingers curled into the edge of the shelf behind you, knuckles white. He wasn't touching you, not yet, but your body was already betraying you, leaning slightly forward, eyes flicking to his lips before you could stop yourself.

He noticed.

His smirk faded. Just a fraction.

Then, like gravity finally caught up to both of you, it happened.

You kissed him.

Or maybe he kissed you.

It was hard to tell who moved first, one second there was space, the next it was gone, mouths colliding with a mix of heat and defiance. Your hands shoved at his chest, like you meant to push him away, but your fingers twisted in his shirt instead. His hands found your waist, one sliding up your spine, the other gripping your hip like he couldn't stand the idea of letting go. 

You gasped as your back hit the shelf harder than intended, and a cascade of dusty books tumbled around you, hitting the floor in a clatter, but neither of you flinched.

He groaned against your mouth, the sound low and almost dangerous. “Told you,” he murmured, lips brushing yours between kisses, “worst decision ever.”

“Shut up.” you breathed, pulling him back in, teeth catching his bottom lip before he deepened it again, hotter now, less playful, more desperate.

His tongue slid against yours with infuriating skill, like he'd  been imagining this as long as you had. Maybe longer. He kissed like he fought, unapologetic, clever, a little unhinged, and it made your knees weak.

You broke apart for air, panting. His forehead dropped against yours. Neither of you spoke for a second.

“I still hate you.” you whispered.

His smile was smug, breathless. “Yeah? Hate me harder.”

You shoved him back by the chest, not hard enough to mean it. “Pick up the damn books, Parker.”

He laughed, low and wrecked. “Fine. But only because watching you bend over might kill me.”

You rolled your eyes and tried not to smile.