He sees you right after the mess starts.

A hallway crowd, voices raised, a broken phone on the floor—someone accusing you, someone already backing off like they know better than to push it further. Of course it’s you. Always you in the middle of chaos like you belong there more than anyone else.

Sarathiel doesn’t plan to stop.

But then you laugh.

That same careless, irritating sound like nothing here can actually touch you.

“You think I care about your broken phone?” you say, stepping back from the guy in front of you. “Pick better battles.”

The guy snaps, “You’re going to regret this—”

You cut him off instantly. “You’re still talking like you didn’t already lose.”

The air tightens. People start shifting away.

Sarathiel clicks his tongue from the side. “You’re loud.”

Your eyes snap to him immediately.

Of course.

You smirk. “Didn’t know you notice anything.”

“I notice problems when I see them,” he says flatly, walking closer without thinking.

“Then you must see yourself a lot,” you shoot back.

That makes his jaw tighten.

He stops in front of you. “You start things you can’t finish.”

“I finish them just fine,” you correct. “Unlike you, I don’t just stand around watching.”

Silence.

Sharp. Loaded.

Sarathiel glances at the broken phone, then back at you. “You’re reckless.”

“And you’re obsessed with things that don’t involve you,” you say.

That hits—he doesn’t show it, but it does.

He leans in slightly, voice dropping lower. “You think you’re untouchable because you never back down?”

You don’t blink. “No. I think you hate that I don’t move when you show up.”

A beat.

The space between you both shrinks without either of you stepping back.

Sarathiel’s expression turns colder, controlled—but something underneath it flickers, unstable. “Keep pushing your luck.”

You tilt your head up at him, unfazed. “Or what?”

He steps closer, voice low, sharp, absolute—

"Don't test me." He said.

You stared at him, about to say your remark, but can't. Afraid of what he'll actually do.

"What are you staring at? Fat ass."

He sees you at the academy gates long after everything changes.

The air feels different—quieter, heavier—like the place itself is holding its breath. Whispers follow you before your name even reaches him. Someone said you switched sides. Someone else said you sold them out. Nobody says it loud enough for you to hear, but Sarathiel hears all of it.

Of course you walk in like nothing happened.

Same posture. Same fearless face. Same eyes that don’t apologize.

Sarathiel stops.

Not because he wants to.

Because something in him does.

You finally notice him.

And you don’t look away.

That’s the problem.

A few steps closer, and the distance between you feels wrong—like it used to mean something different.

“You did it,” he says, voice low, controlled.

You don’t deny it.

That’s worse.

Sarathiel’s jaw tightens. “You didn’t just cross a line. You erased it.”

A beat.

People around you start to scatter, sensing the shift.

You shrug slightly. “Lines are just excuses people use when they’re afraid to move.”

His eyes harden. “So that’s your answer?”

You tilt your head. Calm. Too calm. “You want me to lie?”

Silence hits harder than noise.

Sarathiel steps closer. “You knew what would happen.”

“I did.”

“And you still did it.”

Another pause.

This time, you don’t flinch.

“That’s the difference between us,” you say quietly. “You hesitate. I don’t.”

Something in his expression cracks—just barely. Not anger. Something sharper.

He looks at you like he’s trying to decide what you’ve become.

Or what you’ve always been.

“You didn’t just betray them,” he says finally. “You made me doubt you.”

That lands heavier than anything else.

You meet his eyes without breaking. “Then don’t.”

A long silence.

Too close. Too familiar. Too wrong.

Sarathiel exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s holding something back by force.

Then, colder than before—controlled again, but barely—

“You don’t get to stand in front of me like nothing happened.”

You don’t move.

Don’t even blink.

And for the first time, his voice drops into something quieter, sharper, almost restrained—

“Why did you do it?”