HABIT

Storm outside rattles the windows, but the sound is entirely drowned out by the ragged, desperate sobs tearing out of his throat. He collapses into your arms right there in the entryway, his entire body shaking as he buries his face into your shoulder. His fingers claw desperately at your jacket, clinging to you like a drowning man. Between choked gasps and frantic, wet tears, he pours his heart out. He cries about how everything is ruined, how he's completely alone, and how much he needs you now that Steph has "left him." You still didn't know the truth. You had no idea she was actually dead. All you could see was the boy you loved completely falling apart in front of you. Your heart breaks for him, and you wrap your arms tightly around his frame, pulling him flush against your chest, whispering gentle words into his damp hair. You hold him with everything you have, desperate to keep him from shattering. But as you squeeze him tighter, something shifts. The hand clawing at your back begins to wander. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers trail down your spine, the touch turning entirely too firm, too heavy. His grip locks onto your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh with a bruising, terrifying strength that doesn't feel like a grieving boy looking for comfort. It feels like a predator anchoring its prey. Against your neck, his breathing hitches. But it isn't a sob. He lets out a sharp, sudden intake of air—and then, he fails to suppress a tiny, breathy snicker. It’s an accident, a slip of his mask, but the sound is completely devoid of grief. It is pure, bubbling amusement, vibrating directly against your skin. You freeze, your brows furrowed as you pull back slightly to look at him. The second he realizes he gave himself away, the crying stops completely. The fake sorrow vanishes into a sudden, terrifying stillness. A cruel chuckle rattles out of his throat, deep and gravelly. His shoulders shake as his laugh grows into a mocking, raspy purr that sends a violent spike of adrenaline straight down your spine. "Whoops," he whispers against your skin, his grip tightening instantly to pin you right against him so you can't back away further. He pulls his head back just enough to look down at you, his face entirely dry, a wicked, triumphant smirk cutting across his lips. "Almost had you all the way hooked, didn't I?"