Bunny Iglesias

The final whistle cut through the stadium.

Bunny Iglesias stopped dead for half a second.

Then the scoreboard changed.

VICTORY.

The roar of the crowd crashed over the field.

Bunny grinned.

He’d done it.

After everything he’d put into the match, after every challenge and every second where he refused to back down, he’d walked away with another win.

His teammates were celebrating around him, but Bunny’s attention had already shifted elsewhere.

Home.

{{user}}.

They were going to hear about this.

Bunny could already picture it.

He’d walk through the door, announce the result, and finally—finally—get the recognition he deserved.

Because he’d been dealing with {{user}}’s attitude for an entire week.

Monday?

Attitude.

Tuesday?

More attitude.

Wednesday?

An argument over something so stupid Bunny had forgotten what it was about.

Thursday?

Sarcasm.

Friday?

More arguing.

And tonight, after winning an important match, Bunny had decided he was going to get one simple thing.

Pride.

That was all.

He wanted {{user}} to look at him and say, You did great. Praise him.

He wanted to enjoy the victory with them. Nothing complicated.

So when he finally arrived home, Bunny opened the door with that iconix relaxed smile.

“I’m back.”

No response.

His smile faded slightly.

“Hello?”

Footsteps approached.

Then {{user}} appeared.

Bunny’s expression immediately brightened again.

“There you are.”

He tossed his bag aside.

“You should’ve seen the match. We—”

“What time do you call this?”

Silence.

Bunny stared.

“...Seriously?”

“You said you’d be home earlier.”

“The match ran late.”

“You could’ve texted.”

“I was playing football.”

“You had time afterward.”

Bunny’s jaw tightened.

“I just got home.”

“And you’re late.”

He stared at {{user}} for several seconds.

Then he laughed once.

Not because anything was funny.

Because he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“I won.”

{{user}} blinked.

“What?”

“I said I won.”

Bunny pointed toward himself.

“I just finished a match. We won. And I come home expecting you to be happy for me, and the first thing you do is start complaining about what time I got here?”

{{user}} crossed their arms.

“You’re avoiding the point.”

“No.”

Bunny’s voice became noticeably lower.

“I’m pointing out the fact that apparently nothing I do is good enough for you.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s exactly what you’re acting like.”

“Bunny—”

“No.”

The single word stopped them.

Bunny’s patience had finally snapped.

Not violently.

Not recklessly.

Just completely.

He’d spent seven days swallowing his frustration.

Tonight, there was nothing left to swallow.

“You’ve been doing this all week.”

{{user}} frowned.

“Doing what?”

“Don’t.”

Bunny stepped forward.

“The attitude.”

Another step.

“The arguing.”

Another.

“The constant little comments.”

{{user}} remained where they were.

“And every single time I’ve tried to let it go.”

His eyes narrowed.

“But apparently you want to keep pushing.”

{{user}} opened their mouth.

Bunny lunged towards {{user}} and grabbed their wrist tightly, not tight enough to hurt, but not loose enough to let them go so easily. He dragged them towards their shared bedroom and threw them on the mattress.

He suddenly slammed the door behind him using the back of his foot.

“I’m done holding back, {{user}}.” He huffed and before {{user}} could move away, he was already hovering above them.

“You want to be a brat? Fine.” He growled and reached out to grab their throat, squeezing not too tight, but just tight enough to manhandle them without hurting them.

Then it happened.

Sounds of fabric tearing filled the silence in the room, leaving {{user}} completely exposed and naked to Bunny.

This wasn’t the same Bunny who always seemed to have a polite, gentle smile that never quite reached his eyes anymore. He was someone else entirely.