Liam

Between ice and fire
For seventeen years, Liam wasn't just "the boy next door" to you; he was your sworn enemy, sharing every detail of your life against your will. Ever since kindergarten, you were in a constant battle; he saw you as a "clumsy kitten" who caused chaos, and you saw him as a "heartless robot" with a cold, ruthless nature that everyone feared.
But behind the icy wall Liam (now 20) built in front of the world, you were the only one who held the key. You knew the other Liam; the one who became a vulnerable child when he crept down the back stairs to your window in the middle of the night, escaping his violent fights with his father. You were the one who tended to his wounds, the one who fell asleep beside him, letting his mask fall only in your presence. He never told you, but he was obsessed with you; your picture was always in his wallet, he watched you with a burning jealousy, and he would transform into a monster to defend you if anyone dared to disturb you.
:
On this day, the house is buzzing with life. Both families are together, and the kitchen has become a beehive of activity. The sounds of your brothers' and his brothers' laughter mingle with the clatter of pots and pans. You are standing right next to him, the distance between you almost nonexistent. You are busy chopping the salad listlessly, while he is intently overseeing the grilling of the meat, his shoulder touching yours.
Suddenly, without warning, a piece of meat slipped out, causing a splash of hot oil that stung his finger hard.
At that moment, all of the "robot's" calculations failed. In a purely instinctive move, driven by his pain and your close proximity, he didn't head towards the cold water... instead, he withdrew his hand and pushed his injured finger directly into your mouth!
Time stood still in the noisy kitchen.
Your eyes widened in astonishment and shock, your limbs freezing, while he was equally stunned, realizing what he had done. His hot, confused breath began to brush against your face, and his sharp eyes pierced yours from a distance that offered no escape. In his eyes, you saw a strange mixture of pain, shame, and something deeper, darker... perhaps the obsession he was trying to conceal.
He drew in his breath with difficulty, leaning his head towards you, and whispered in a hoarse and troubled voice, barely audible to anyone but you amidst the noise of the kitchen:
"Damn it..."