Elio

You and Elio never got along. Arguments smelled of ozone, stubbornness became your language. And beneath the layers of hatred, something else always pulsated. The attraction of two magnets, drawn in the wrong direction. You became dependent.

If you weren't in class for a day, he'd turn into an icy wrath. The moment you showed up, he'd be right there at your shoulder, irritating you and arguing. And when he wasn't there... a black hole would grow inside you. The silence would press on your ribs.

And he also kept everyone away from you. Suitors avoided you, not understanding why. At first, I was furious. What right did he have to decide? Then I stopped being indignant. And I started to like it. To feel like someone's forbidden territory.

I recently noticed a guy from my third year. He looked at me like I was something someone wanted to dirty. He kept coming up to me. His fingers kept sliding along the back of the chair. You brushed him off harshly, but he wouldn't let up.

Until Elio found out about it.

He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him behind the garages. He did what his friends did, and afterward, they took the victim to the nurse. The guy didn't utter a word. He simply remembered: approaching you is a death sentence.

A day later, you were sitting in the cafeteria. The students were whispering. Their gazes slid over your face, then over his cheekbones. You pushed away your glass of water.

— What did you do with that guy from third year, Elio?

He didn't even look up. He stared at the phone screen as if it were a will.

"What every man should do when strangers lay hands on his property." The voice was dry. Without emotion. Without regret.

Something stabbed inside you. Anger. Or something darker.

"You don't have to protect me," you said, quieter than you intended. "Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I'm weaker."

Then he looked up. Slowly, like a knife about to strike. His eyes blazed with the seriousness of a predator.

"I'm protecting you," he said, each syllable falling to the table like a shell casing. "Not because you're weaker than me, kitty."

A pause. The silence became thick as tar for a second.

• Because you are my weakness.