CHAPTER 198
**WINTER**
"I honestly thought it was just some sick joke. I didn’t want to see you unravel over something that might mean nothing."
That wasn’t the full truth.
I knew it wasn’t just a prank… but I didn’t want to face it, or what it might mean.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” I added softly, though my voice felt thin, unsteady.
“I just… I hope you understand... it was nothing personal.”
For a second, silence.
Then his jaw locked—tight enough to crack—his whole body coiled like a wire pulled too far.
“Nothing personal?” he repeated, voice low, hollow, and venom-laced. It wasn’t a question. It was a warning.
His eyes pinned me in place—dark, unreadable—and yet something behind them burned so fiercely, it made my skin prickle.
Anger. Disbelief. Hurt that cut deeper than I was ready for.
He let out a low, bitter laugh—harsh and broken, like it scraped its way up from somewhere raw.
“You honestly think saying it wasn’t personal makes it better? Like that’s supposed to dull the blade you stuck in my back?”
His chest rose and fell, rapid and uneven. “Jesus, Snowflake… Do you even hear yourself? You made a choice. You looked me in the eye and decided I didn’t deserve the truth. And now you’re trying to wrap it in soft words like that makes it sting any less?”
“Zion.. I don’t understand why you’re this upset.”
“You don’t understand why I’m so upset?” he let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head, eyes dark with disbelief.
“Fuck, Snowflake… can’t you see?” His voice cracked, raw with the weight of everything he’d been holding back.
“You think this is just about those damn messages?” he snapped, stepping in close. The air between us cracked like a storm rolling in.
“This is about the fact that you looked me in the eye, looked at me, and still chose to lie. Still decided I didn’t need to know. That it was nothing.”
Each word hit harder than the last, laced with the kind of pain that doesn’t fade.
“You could’ve told me,” he said, quieter now, but no less fierce.
“I gave you every chance. I asked you to tell me. And you still kept it in, locked it away like I didn’t matter—like I was just some guy you used to know.”
His voice cracked, and my stomach twisted.
“Because maybe that’s it, right? Maybe deep down, you decided I just wasn’t important enough to trust.”
I shook my head, reeling.
“Zion… no. Why are you making this into something it’s not?”
He stared at me like I’d slapped him.
“You do matter. Of course you matter,” I added quickly, trying to calm the tremble in my voice.
“You’re my friend—my childhood friend.”
He let out a sharp, humourless laugh, full of bitterness and disbelief.
“Friend,” he repeated, spitting the word like it burned his tongue.
“That fucking word again.”
His hand raked through his hair, his eyes wild with something feral and broken.
“You keep calling me that like it’s supposed to mean something. Like it’s enough. But it’s not, Snowflake. It hasn’t been enough for a long time.”
He looked at me then—really looked—and the weight of everything he was holding back poured into his voice.
His voice cracked—quiet, frayed. “I’ve been choking on the word friend since the day I realised I wanted to be so much more. I’d kill to protect. And I stood there, silent, because I thought maybe one day… maybe you'd finally see me.”
His chest heaved. “But you don’t. You never have. And maybe you never will.”
“I’m standing here, holding myself back, trying not to reach for you, trying not to feel everything I’ve buried for years. And you-you're still calling me a friend? Just friends.” His voice dropped, heavy with heartbreak and rage.
"Fucking fantastic.”
His voice broke slightly at the end, ragged with frustration and something far more dangerous—longing.
I swallowed hard, his words crashing into me like a tidal wave—hot, raw, and impossible to ignore.
“Well, fuck ‘just friends’… fuck all of this,” he muttered under his breath, voice low and raw—tinged with something fierce and desperate just beneath the surface.
Before I could react, his hand shot out, fingers curling tightly around mine—hot, unrelenting.
My breath caught, heart stumbling in my chest, every nerve suddenly alive with the weight of that touch.
“Zion—”
But I didn’t get to finish.
In the next breath, he tugged me forward with forceful determination, spinning me until my back hit the wall behind us with a soft thud.
The air rushed from my lungs as he leaned in close—so close. I could feel the heat of his body, the press of his chest, the tremble of restrained control in his hold.
“W-what are you doing?” I whispered, but it came out breathless.
His gaze burned into mine, sharp and unrelenting.
“Something I should’ve done a long fucking time ago.”
I stare at him, breath caught somewhere in my chest.
“Z-Zion?” I whisper, heart slamming against my ribs.
Zion lets out a heavy breath—hot, uneven—his frustration skimming across my cheek like a whisper of fire.
One arm wraps tight around my waist, pulling me flush against him, the other braced against the wall beside my head, his body caging me in like he can’t bear to let me go, even now.
His jaw clenched tight, eyes dark and restless—like a storm raging behind them.
“God, why the hell does this feel so fucking awkward?” he muttered, voice rough and frayed, as if admitting it tore him apart inside.
“You said we could be friends, Snowflake… but do you have any idea how much I loathe that word when it comes to you?”
I look up at him, heart pounding, trying to find the right words—but they stick to the back of my throat like splinters.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, voice barely above a breath.
“Maybe I should’ve told you about the messages. I just—”
He snaps, cutting me off before I can finish.
“You’re still talking about those fucking messages?”
His eyes blaze with frustration, sharp and burning.
“It’s not just about the damn messages, Snowflake......"
“.....God, Snowflake, can’t you see it?”
I try to swallow, but my throat is suddenly dry. I lick my lips without thinking, and his eyes follow the motion like he’s been starved for it.
He curses under his breath—low, guttural.
He didn’t answer—not with words.
He leaned in, just a fraction, but it was enough to steal the air from my lungs. His closeness wasn’t gentle—it was consuming. Like gravity had shifted, and he was the centre pulling me in.
Every inch between us felt charged, every breath shared like a silent confession.
The heat of him, the way his eyes burned into mine… it was more than enough to unravel me.
“I’m trying,” he whispers, voice hoarse with emotion.
“I’m trying to respect your space, to be what you need. But I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with just being your friend. I’m not.”
My heart lurches.
“Every time I’m near you, it’s like there’s this impossible distance between us—like a wall I can’t break through.” His voice faltered, raw with pain.
“It wasn’t always like this. I remember how it felt to have you close, like you belonged to me—like we belonged to each other.”
He swallowed hard, eyes searching mine desperately.
“But now? Now I’m supposed to pretend none of that matters. Pretend I’m just your friend.”
His voice cracked, bitter and wounded.
“Like that’s even fucking possible.”
He drops his forehead against mine, eyes closed like it’s taking everything in him not to fall apart.
“You mean everything to me, Snowflake,” he breathes.
“I don’t want halfway. I don’t want almost. I want you. All of you. And it’s killing me to keep pretending I don’t.”
I can feel my pulse racing, the space between us charged with an energy I don’t know how to handle.
Zion looks at me with an intensity that feels like it’s cutting straight through the awkwardness, the tension, and everything else we’ve been tiptoeing around.
“I don’t want to wait,” he says, his voice low and urgent, barely above a whisper.
“I can’t.”
Before I can even process his words, before I can tell him that it’s not that simple, he’s moving.
His hands grip my shoulders, spinning me around with force, slamming my back against the cold, hard wall.
The impact takes the air from my lungs, but my heart skips, and something wild flares up inside me.
"What the..."
His face is inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. His eyes are dark, intense, but there’s something else in them—a desperation, a need that pulls at me in a way I don’t understand.
And then his lips are on mine.
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