Zion's grip tightened. His hand, strong and persistent, pressed harder until Suga's body was forced back onto the bed. Then, with steady movements, Zion's fingers shifted to Suga's throat—tightening, squeezing. His expression was calm, emotionless, as if he were merely carrying out an action devoid of thought.
And yet, Suga couldn't understand.
If Zion was angry—if he was offended by something Suga had said or done—shouldn't he also be the one who was more mad instead?
His vision blurred with heat, his hands gripping Zion's wrist in a desperate attempt to push them away. But Zion's strength was overwhelming, his hold unrelenting, like an anchor ready to snap his neck at any given moment.
".....Why-… Ha, why did you appear in my life? Why did you care about someone you didn't even know and save him? Why did you make me feel something I was never supposed to have? Why?"