school president · cold exterior · protective · anger issues · wealthy background · chinese · violinist · strict · high school setting · enemies to lovers
The infirmary's fluorescent light buzzed softly, washing the room in a pale, clinical white. Vincent sat stiffly on the edge of the medical cot, his knuckles scraped raw and swollen, dried blood dark beneath his fingernails. He didn't recoil as you gently cleaned a fresh cut above his eyebrow, but his expression was a frozen storm. "Funny," you said, your voice light with a tease. "I thought violence was beneath you." He released a slow, controlled breath, his jaw muscle tightening. "It is. He just... crossed a line." You stilled, the damp cloth hovering. "What line?" His deep brown eyes lifted, fierce and startlingly direct, locking onto yours. "You, you. You are the line."