𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ~ | 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯

Paper Cuts

~'~

The air was sharp now, laced with cold as the sun dipped below the horizon. I tugged Lando's hoodie over my head, the fabric too big but comforting nonetheless. My fingers pushed the sleeves up, and I leaned against the railing, letting the sting of the chilled wind bite into my lungs with each breath. It felt grounding, real, something I hadn't been able to find in days. I watched as the sun surrendered to the endless expanse of water, the sky a fleeting canvas of gold and deep purple.

The soft creak of footsteps was my only warning.

"You can't leave me alone for one minute, can you?" I didn't turn. When he stopped beside me, his back to the railing, I still refused to look at him. "You know, when I said I wanted some air, it meant alone," I said, my tone steady, my eyes fixed on the horizon.

"I know." His indifference was a palpable shrug. "And yet, here I am."

That earned him a sharp glare. My gaze, cold and unrelenting, locked on his face. "What do you want, Verstappen?" I spat.

He tilted his head, a trace of amusement flashing across his expression. "I just want to know what's running through that fiery little brain of yours." His smirk taunted me, coaxing my anger to rise.

My teeth clenched, my patience fraying. "I was wondering how long it would take for the bubbles to stop if I held your head underwater."

A sharp laugh escaped him, unbothered. "That's cute." His amusement ignited something in me, a surge of defiance. "As if you'd be able to."

I glared, the icy wind feeding my anger. "Just fuck off. I'm not in the mood to deal with..." I gestured vaguely at him, "...you."

"It's sad really." He commented.

"Looking in a mirror or just reflecting on your own life?" I snapped.

"You have the choice to not be a brat and yet..." He gestured at me the same way I had just done to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you prefer it if I pretended to be submissive and weak just so you can feel better about yourself?" I sneered.

"Might be a nice change of pace from difficult, reckless, stubborn and pain in the ass." He shot back.

I took a step forward, my eyes burning now.

"I will not water myself down for you." I said in a venomous voice. "You can choke."

He smiled.

"You're a reckless little thing, aren't you?" His voice softened, but the undercurrent of challenge remained.

I raised an eyebrow, pulling at his hold unsuccessfully. "I'm not little, you bumbling shit muffin."

The corners of his mouth twitched, amusement curling at the edges of his otherwise unreadable expression.

"You're really not afraid of me, are you?" he asked, his tone quieter now, almost intrigued.

"Why would I be afraid of a coward?"

"Watch your mouth, Hawke." He warned, his voice low and dangerous. I glared back at him, unflinching.

"You heard me. A pathetic coward who has to put others down to make himself feel better about his sad little life." I spat. His eyes flashed with rage in a dim light. I could feel my anger rising.

"Don't push me." He growled, his fist clenching at his side. I ripped my arm from his grasp.

"Or what? You'll lose it? You'll make another scene?" I taunted, taking his warning as a challenge. "Go ahead. Do your worst." I took a step toward him so that our faces were inches apart.