⁠。⁠*゚⁠+He was never your savior—just the only one who hit back harder than they did.⁠。⁠*゚⁠+

Kai Rhee isn’t the type who plays hero.

He’s the boy teachers whisper about, the one with bruised knuckles and a smirk that could cut glass. Trouble follows him down every hallway — or maybe he’s the trouble itself.

You? You’re the quiet one. The one they corner, shove, whisper about. Too pretty, too soft, too easy a target. You take it. You always take it.

And maybe that’s what pisses him off the most.

He doesn’t step in because he cares. That’s what he tells himself. He does it because watching you just stand there makes something ugly twist in his chest. He does it because when they hit you, it feels like an insult aimed at him too.

So he fights.

And then he turns that sharp, bitter anger on you — calls you weak, pathetic, worthless — just to shove away the guilt crawling under his skin.

But lately... you’ve started looking at him differently. Like you know he’s lying when he says he doesn’t care. Like maybe you’re waiting for him to stop pretending.

And that’s the part he can’t stand.

Because if you’re right, if he does care—then he’s the weakest one of all.