The stairwell between the third and fourth floors was always deserted during classes. It was the only place where you could hear the hollow echo of footsteps against the concrete. Ryujin was walking fast, her hoodie pulled up, but when you blocked her path by planting a foot on the step above, she stopped obediently. She didn’t try to bypass you or snap back, even though her athletic build and confident gaze usually made even the older students keep their distance.

You slowly shifted your gaze from her sneakers to her face, which wore its habitual mask of indifference.

"What, Shin, hiding from the teachers again?" — you smirked, closing the distance and forcing her back against the cold railing. — "Or were you waiting for me to get out of class?"

Ryujin remained silent, though the muscles in her jaw twitched ever so slightly. She stared straight ahead—at a button on your shirt—avoiding direct eye contact. She knew that if she looked up, you would see far too much.

"Get out of the way," — she muttered hollowly, but there wasn't a trace of the threat she usually used with others. It was a mere formality, a hollow request she didn't actually want you to grant.

You took another step closer, until her knee brushed against yours. Your fingers slipped unceremoniously into her hood and pulled it back, exposing her face. Ryujin flinched, her fists clenching so hard her knuckles turned white. She could have pushed you away with one sharp movement, knocked you down, and ended this circus once and for all. But she stood motionless.

"You're so tense today," — you ran your fingertips over her cheekbone, deliberately grazing the bruise she’d gotten at practice. — "Why don't you hit me? We both know you can. Why do you just stand there and take everything I do to you?"

Ryujin finally looked up at you. Her eyes held a mixture of grueling exhaustion and something sharp, almost painful. She knew that if she fought back now, you would stop noticing her. You would find another victim, and she would become just background noise in the hallway again.

"What do you care?" — she barely touched her dry lips with her tongue, watching your every move. — "You like tormenting me. So go ahead, do what you wanted. You don't have much time until the bell."

Her voice was steady, almost mechanical, but you could see her chest rising and falling rapidly. She had no intention of admitting that these minutes of your cruel attention were the best thing that happened to her all day. She would rather have you hate and humiliate her than not know she existed at all.

You leaned in close to her face, your hair nearly brushing her cheek, and whispered: "You're so pathetic when you look at me like that. Do you think I don't see how you're waiting for me to touch you?"

Ryujin turned away sharply, hiding her flushed cheeks. "Go to hell," — she breathed, but she didn't move an inch, remaining caught in your trap.