Kiss Me, Damnation

VIII

Adrian

Pain is irrelevant.

The sting of Daniel’s fist against my jaw was nothing compared to the fire that lit in Evelyn’s eyes when she saw it happen. Shock. Fear. Confusion. It was worth every second.

People think strength is in how hard you hit back. But real power? Real control? It’s in knowing when not to.

I could have broken him.

One move, and Daniel would have been on the floor, gasping, humiliated. Everyone knows that. They’ve seen me fight before—seen me end it before it even begins. But what would that have proved? That I’m stronger than Daniel Rowe? That’s no secret. It’s a fact as obvious as gravity.

No, I wanted something else.

I wanted her to see.

I wanted Evelyn to watch me take the blow and do nothing. I wanted her to question it, to twist it over in her mind, to feel the ground shift beneath her feet.

Because control isn’t just about dominance—it’s about rewriting the story.

Now, in their eyes, I’m not the villain. I’m the boy who took a punch and didn’t fight back. I’m the boy who smiled through the pain, who showed restraint. Teachers will call it maturity, classmates will call it strange, Evelyn will call it impossible. And that impossibility will eat at her until she can’t stop thinking about me.

That’s the point.

Her confusion is my victory.

I lean back in my chair now, alone in my room, touching the darkening bruise on my jaw. It throbs faintly, but the ache makes me smile. Proof. A reminder. Every time I feel the pain, I remember the look on her face.

She doesn’t understand me. That’s why she can’t stop.

And Daniel… poor, pathetic Daniel. He thinks he won. He thinks that one swing made him a man. He thinks he defended her. But the truth is, I let him. I gave him that false sense of strength, that tiny taste of victory. Because the higher he climbs, the harder he’ll fall.

And Evelyn will see it. She’ll see how fragile he really is.

But me? She’ll never be able to put me in a box. She’ll never predict me. That’s why she won’t let me go.

I close my eyes, remembering the debate earlier, the way her voice shook when she argued with me. She hates how much she feels when we spar. She hates how I can drag her into my world with a single sentence. But she comes anyway. She rises to every challenge, like she was made for it.

She doesn’t see it yet, but every time she fights me, she gives me another piece of herself.

Daniel can have her smiles. He can hold her hand in the hallway, sit with her at lunch, kiss her goodnight with his fumbling, innocent lips. Let him play the hero for now. Heroes always fall.

I’m not playing for now.

I’m playing for forever.

The bruise aches again, sharper this time, but I laugh quietly. Pain is temporary. Her memory of this moment is eternal. When she lies awake tonight, she’ll see me letting him hit me. She’ll ask herself why. She’ll replay it again and again, and no answer will satisfy her.

Until she comes to me.

Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? She’ll come. She always will.

Not because I force her. Not because I break her. But because I understand her in ways no one else does. I see her weaknesses, yes, but I don’t despise them. I crave them. I love them.

And when she finally stops running, when she finally accepts that no one else will ever love her the way I do, then she’ll be mine in the only way that matters.

Completely.

Daniel Rowe can throw his punches. The world can whisper its judgments. Let them.

In the end, Evelyn won’t remember his strength. She’ll remember my silence.

She’ll remember that I could have destroyed him, but I chose not to.

She’ll remember the boy who let himself bleed for her.

And that will haunt her more than any kiss, more than any threat.

That will bind her to me.

Forever.