Quiet Hate

Argument

As I near the doorway, König meets me there. In full gear, he's more intimidating than he might normally be.

It also makes my skin tingle.

The truth is, I like to argue with him. It gives me a thrill, and another feeling that I'm sure is just adrenaline.

"What? Are you having a hard time controlling your emotions?" I ask as he steps closer - too close, and towers over me.

After seeing what he did earlier today, seeing him in the uniform that he did it in, I'm even more secretly impressed.

His vest grazes my shoulder as he leans closer.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I said," I say, looking directly up at him, "Are you having a hard time controlling your emotions?"

"You're a self-conceited bitch," König says, his voice low. He takes a step, which forces me to take a step, unless I want to be face-first in his vest.

"And you're a moody, whiny, attention-seeking asshole," I say.

Another step.

"You are so fucking annoying," he says.

"Am I, or are you just all wired from the mission earlier and not able to calm yourself down?" I say. Incompetent man.

"You're right," he says. "I am wired."

Something changes in the air in that instant. His words flutter across my face. My stomach starts to tense. He takes one final step, and then my back hits the wall.

Shit.

"For someone who has social anxiety," I say, refusing to look away, "You sure have a big mouth."

"Only around you," he says, and I'm sensing that he's not just talking about being annoyed around me.

The silence is thick. The tension could be cut with a knife, but I won't admit it to myself. I can't, and I won't. I have hated him since I got here. He irritates me every waking moment.

Then why do I want him to touch me?

To have an opportunity to hit him, I remedy, but deep down, I don't think that's the case.

He brings his face down to my ear. I turn my head to the side to get away from being touched by the hood.

"You..." he says, whispering. "Fucking... bother me."

I don't dare move as he moves down my neck, his hood grazing my skin. He takes in a deep breath.

"I see your heartbeat," he says, voice still quiet. "It's going awfully fast."

"That's what happens when you get angry," I say, pushing against him, trying to get away.

Getting closer does not help. The more I push against him, the closer he presses in. I can feel his body against mine, and I ignore how I revel in the way it feels.

He braces his hand against the wall next to my head.

"I wonder," König says, bringing his face close to mine, a cruel laugh fanning breath across my face, "What it takes for you to shut up."

My heart is, in fact, going at a million beats per minute. I push at his chest again, a desperate attempt to get him away, and he grabs my hands in his other free hand.

"You always get so pink, so easily," he says. "I can basically read you like a book."

"What you're seeing is irritation," I say. "I get red at anything."