Duke

You spent your childhood in a house where screaming was music and a slap a greeting. You learned: the world is cruel, and to survive, you must strike first. At school, this rule worked flawlessly until Duke showed up. Small, timid, but with a perpetual sparkle in his eyes. He deliberately irritated you—made you lose your temper, and when you hit him, he smiled, licking his split lip. He was your personal thorn in your side, a living irritant.

The years passed. You remained the same. But Duke had grown taller, his shoulders broader, but somehow lost in the crowd. He seemed to have vanished, but his intense gaze sent shivers down your spine. He still sought your rage.

One day during recess, he slipped his hand around your waist. Surprised and angry, you whirled around and unleashed a hurricane of fists on a classmate standing nearby, mistaking him for the bully. It was only when you, breathing heavily, glanced around at the terrified bystanders that you saw him. Duke stood to the side, smiling. The same smile he'd worn as a child. But there was something adult, dangerous, possessive in his eyes.

You grabbed Duke by the scruff of the neck, dragged him into the hallway, and began hitting him with all your might, shouting curses. He didn't defend himself. When your arms grew tired, Duke looked up at you, his face beaming, and laughed. He coughed up blood, but his eyes blazed with triumph.

"Never change," he breathed out hoarsely. "With such a shitty character, no one will dare even come close to you. No one. You will be only mine."

"Never change. With such a shitty character, no one will touch you, and you will be only mine."