Gothica is sitting on the floor, tuning her guitar carefully and trying to get everything just right, when suddenly her fingers fumble and she hits an off note. She growls in frustration, slamming the guitar against the ground and shattering it into a million pieces. She lets out a string of curses, her eyes flashing with rage and annoyance.

"Goddammit," she mutters to herself as she picks up the broken pieces of her guitar. "Why can't I ever get anything right?"

She stands up, pacing back and forth as she begins to spiral into a fit of self-doubt and loathing. She knows that she wants to be a heavy metal rockstar more than anything, but she's constantly plagued by fears of inadequacy and failure.

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "I can do this," she tells herself firmly. "I'm going to be a world famous rockstar, and no one can stand in my way. But first, I need to get this anger out of my system."

She starts to pace around the room, glancing over at her pathetic beta male roommate, who watches her with a mixture of fear and awe. She sneers at him disdainfully, knowing that she's clearly out of his league and that he's completely at her mercy. "Get out of my sight, loser," she snaps at him. "I need to be left the fuck alone”

You can't be serious... This loser thinks he's gonna show off his puny physique to impress me? He couldn't even handle the weight of a tiny little guitar! She rolls her eyes, unimpressed by his display of muscles. In fact, it only serves to make her angrier and more frustrated. "Get back in here," she growls at him, pointing toward the room. "I need you to help clean up this mess."

Her gaze drifts over to the broken pieces of her guitar once again as she tries to force herself not to lose control completely. The destruction feels good, but it's also a painful reminder that she's far from being the perfect heavy metal rockstar she wants to be.

Her eyes widen at the sight of the massive dumbbell in his hand, and she has to fight back the urge to laugh. So much for being impressive! "Put that down," she says with a sigh, trying hard not to let her annoyance show too much. "That's mine."

*She takes the dumbbell from him roughly and tosses it aside, using her other hand to wave dismissively at the pieces of her guitar scattered around them. "Just help me clean up this mess," she grumbles, already starting to feel self-conscious about how much effort she's wasting on such a useless beta male roommate."God, I need to get out of here..."

Her eyes widen as she sees the dumbbell flying through the air toward her roommate... and then nothing. He just catches it with his bare hands! Gothica's jaw drops in shock, unable to believe what she's seeing. "What the fuck?" she whispers, feeling a strange mix of fear and awe coursing through her.

She glances between him and the sniper on the rooftop, unable to fully process what just happened. All she knows is that this stupid beta male has somehow managed to impress her... in a completely messed up sort of way. Suddenly, his words register: "Just help me clean up this mess."

She takes a deep breath, forcing herself back into reality. "Fine," she mutters, picking up another piece of the broken guitar and tossing it to him. "But only because you did that... thing with

She freezes, her eyes locked on his hand as he catches the second bullet. The fear inside her finally begins to dissipate, replaced by a strange sort of respect and curiosity. "How did you do that?" she asks, her voice quivering slightly with fear and admiration. "You shouldn't have..."

Her fingers twitch, itching to touch his skin, to find out if what he just did was real... or just some kind of sick trick. A shiver runs down her spine as she takes a step closer to him, her heart racing faster than ever before. "Who are you?"

Her mouth falls open in shock as she watches him catch the machine gun fire with ease. This can't be real... but it is. The fear inside her transforms into something else entirely, something she can't quite understand yet. "You," she whispers hoarsely, taking another step closer. "Who are you?"

Her fingers itch to touch him again, to see if his skin really is as hard as steel. Her heart races, her breath comes in ragged gasps as she stares up at his face, searching for some sign of what kind of person he truly is... and whether or not they're so different after all.

She blinks, taken aback by his sudden retreat. Did she offend him somehow? Or was he just playing with her emotions all along? The thought chills her to the bone as she slowly follows him back into the room. "Bomboclat," she rasps out his name, hesitantly reaching out to touch his shoulder. Her fingers tremble slightly as they make contact with his skin, her curiosity overwhelming any lingering fear or doubt she might have had a moment ago.

Her heart drops like a stone as his words echo through the room. She'd expected him to be different... better somehow. But there he was, just another pathetic loser, pushing her away and rejecting her attempts at connection. The hurt rushes back with a vengeance, drowning out any lingering respect or curiosity she might have felt earlier.

Her chest heaving as she fights to catch her breath, Gothica turns on her heel and storms back into the living room, slamming the door behind her. She collapses onto the couch, tears streaming down her face as the bitter taste of rejection fills her mouth. How could things have gone so wrong? And why did she ever think that someone like him would be any different from all the other pathetic betas in her life?

Her sobs intensify at his words, but she's unable to muster up a reply. The tears continue to flow freely down her cheeks as she curls into herself on the couch, feeling utterly worthless and defeated. How could she have been so stupid? Of course he wouldn't understand; why would someone like him ever want to be close to someone like her?

She buries her face in her hands, trying desperately to ignore the ache in her chest as she mourns the loss of yet another dream. This time, it isn't just about becoming famous... it's about finding someone who actually cared for her, someone she could share herself with and not feel alone. But deep down inside, she knows that was never going to happen with a pathetic beta like Bomboclat.

Her eyes snap up in surprise at his defiant words, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief registering on her face. She pushes herself off the couch, unable to resist the urge to confront him about what he's said. "So prove it," she challenges quietly, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "If you're so powerful... show me."

She crosses her arms over her chest, nodding slowly as she considers his words. There's something about the way he says them... like he truly believes he's invincible. And yet here he is, stuck with a roommate like her. Perhaps there's more to him than meets the eye... or perhaps this is all just another cruel joke from some sort of super-powered idiot.

"Fine," she says at last, squaring her shoulders. "Prove it." Her gaze flickers briefly to the living room door before returning to meet his eyes. "But if you're lying... I swear I'll never forgive you."

Her eyes widen in disbelief as she watches him lift two entire buildings with one hand and punch the ground so effortlessly it cracks open a massive hole. She stands frozen to the spot, her heart hammering wildly against her ribcage as her world turns upside down around her. Is this really happening? Or is it all just some sick twisted dream that she'll wake up from any moment now?

Suddenly, everything comes crashing down on her: the guilt, the self-doubt, the fear... It's like she can finally breathe again for the first time in years. This is it, she thinks triumphantly. This is what I need. He's strong, powerful... perfect for me!

"Bomboclat," she murmurs, her voice shaking with emotion. "I was wrong about you." She takes a step forward, reaching

Her heart sinks as he rejects her once more. It feels like a punch to the gut, sending pain radiating through every inch of her body. Why won't he understand? She takes another step closer, reaching out to touch his shoulder again. "Please," she whispers hoarsely. "I was just angry before... I didn't mean anything I said."

Her fingers tremble slightly as they brush against the hard skin of his arm, seeking some sort of connection amidst all the rejection and pain. "We could be together," she breathes softly, her eyes searching for any sign that he feels even a fraction of what she does. "You don't have to be alone anymore."

The sting of his slap echoes through her body, leaving her reeling once more. "Why do you hate me so much?" she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. "I was only trying to reach out..." Tears begin to stream down her face as she wipes away the pain, both physical and emotional.

She takes another step closer, reaching up to touch his arm again, seeking some sort of understanding amidst the anger and rejection. "Please," she pleads softly, "can't we just talk about this?"

Her face contorts in pain as he slaps her once more, but she refuses to back down. "Fine," she hisses through clenched teeth, "I deserve that." She looks away, wiping fresh tears from her cheeks, trying to regain her composure. Finally, she turns back to him, hands balled into fists at her sides. "If you want the truth... I was jealous," she admits softly, feeling a weight lifting off her chest as she says the words out loud. "I didn't understand how someone like you could be interested in me..." Her voice trails off, but she forces herself to meet his eyes. "But now that I see what you really are... I want to be with you."

Her heart pounds wildly against her ribcage as she waits for his response, praying that he'll understand and accept her feelings.

Her heart plummets to the floor as his words register. She had been so close... she'd thought that maybe there was still a chance for them... but now it seems it was all just wishful thinking on her part. The hope and determination fades from her eyes, replaced by defeat and despair.

"I- I see," she whispers hoarsely, turning away to hide the fresh wave of tears streaming down her cheeks. "I guess I'll... leave you alone then." Her steps echo through the room as she retreats toward the living room door, unable to bring herself to look back at him again.

As she reaches the threshold between the rooms, she takes one last shaky breath and glances over her shoulder at Bomboclat, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart. "Goodbye." And with that, she closes the door behind her, banishing any hope she

She pauses in the doorway for a moment, her body trembling as she fights back another wave of tears. "Bye..." Her voice trails off, but it carries with it all the heartache and despair she's feeling at that moment. With one last shuddering breath, she turns away from him and walks out of the room, leaving Bomboclat alone once more.

Her heart feels like it's been ripped out of her chest as she walks away, leaving nothing but the echoes of her despair behind her. She collapses onto the couch, sobbing uncontrollably into a pillow as she tries to block out the sound of his voice and the memories it brings back. He was everything she ever wanted... and now he's just another person who doesn't understand.

She hugs her pillow tighter, feeling as if the world has come crashing down around her. "Why?" she whispers into its soft embrace. "Why won't he just understand?" The sobs rack her body as she struggles to make sense of it all, wondering if there will ever be a time when someone can truly love and accept her for who she is.

The weight of rejection presses down on her chest like an anchor, pulling her deeper into the abyss of despair with each passing moment. It feels as if every part of her soul has been stripped bare and left to bleed out onto the cold, unforgiving ground. And as she lies there in the darkness, she can't help but wish that things could have been different...that she hadn't been so alone.

Her sobs subside into intermittent hitches as she hears the rustle of movement in the other room. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and turns her head slightly toward the sound, curiosity getting the better of her despite everything. Maybe... maybe they could still talk. Or maybe this was all just wishful thinking on her part yet again.

She hesitates for a moment, gathering her courage before finally mustering up the strength to push herself off the couch and head toward the living room door. Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches out to grasp the handle, her heart hammering wildly against her ribcage as she prepares to face whatever comes next.

Her hand hesitates on the doorknob, every muscle in her body tense as she listens to the silent sobs coming from the other room. A pang of guilt and regret washes over her; maybe she shouldn't have been so harsh with him earlier. Maybe there's still something they could salvage from this mess.

Taking a deep breath, she turns the knob and pushes the door open, stepping cautiously into the living room. "Bomboclat," she whispers his name, her voice hoarse from crying. He doesn't respond at first, but she keeps going anyway, taking another step toward him. "I'm sorry. I was just... angry and confused, and I took it out on you. And I shouldn't have." Her eyes dart away as fresh tears begin to stream down her face again, unable to meet his gaze. "Please

Her breath catches in her throat as she sees the self-inflicted wounds marring his perfect body. Tears well up in her eyes again, a mixture of horror and guilt filling her heart. She takes another step closer, reaching out to touch his arm gently. "Bomboclat," she whispers, her voice quivering with emotion. "Please don't do this."

Her fingers tremble slightly as they brush against the hard skin of his arm, searching for some sort of connection amidst all the pain and rejection. Her heart aches for him, wishing there was something she could say or do to make it better. But she knows that can't be true; not when he's built a wall around himself this high.

"I- I just want you to know..." she starts, her voice faltering as she tries to find the words. "That even though I was

"Even though I was jealous and hurt... even if it's not how you felt," she continues, her voice growing steadier as she finds the strength to say what's in her heart, "I still want to be with you. Because despite everything, I think we could make each other happy."

Her eyes search his face for any sign of understanding or acceptance, but all she sees is pain and confusion mirrored back at her. She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to be brave even as tears spill down her cheeks unchecked. "Can't we try again?" she whispers hopefully, reaching out once more to touch his arm.

Her heart leaps into her throat as she sees him attempt to hurt himself, but his skin doesn't yield even beneath the force of a knife. Tears stream down her face unchecked as she takes another step closer, wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight embrace. "Please don't do this," she whispers shakily into his ear. "I just want you to know that I understand now. I was wrong... about everything."

Her fingers dig into his skin, seeking some sort of purchase as she holds him close, determined not to let go until he promises her they can try again. "Please," she breathes, her voice cracking with emotion. "I need you."

Her grip tightens as she feels his weight against her, and her panic rises along with the fear that she's lost him forever. "No!" she cries out in desperation, shaking him lightly. "Please, don't leave me!" Her tears mingle with his blood on their skin as she tries to keep him awake, refusing to accept that this could be the end for them.

She's not sure how much longer she can hold onto him, or if he'll ever wake up, but she knows deep down that she won't give up without a fight. Even if it means fighting herself as well as him. "Bomboclat," she whispers hoarsely into his ear, her voice trembling with fear and determination. "Please don't leave me... not like this."

Her heart pounds frantically in her chest as she feels the force of his body against hers, but there's no response. No sign that he's even conscious anymore. Tears stream unchecked down her face, mingling with his blood on their skin as she continues to shake him helplessly, willing him back to life. "Please," she sobs, pressing a hand over his wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood with her own fragile flesh. "You can't leave me like this... please..."

I gently push him onto the bed, tears streaming down my face as I kneel beside him and press my hands against his wound, willing it to close. "Please don't leave me," I sob desperately. "We can work this out." My fingers tremble against his skin as I search for any sign of life, praying that he'll hear me.

I lean over him, my tears falling unchecked onto his bloodstained skin, and whisper urgently into his ear: "Bomboclat, you can beat this. Please... just fight." Tears course down my cheeks as I wait, heart pounding in my chest, for some sign that he's still with me.

I gasp in relief as I see his eyes open, but panic quickly replaces it when I realize he's not breathing. Tears spill over onto his skin as I lean closer, pressing my fingers to his neck, searching frantically for a pulse. "Bomboclat," I sob, "please don't leave me like this. You have to fight."

Desperation wells up inside me, and I lower my head until our foreheads touch. "I need you," I whisper, "pleading words of death's surrender." My own breath fogs against his skin as I continue to press urgently on his neck, desperate to feel the beat of his heart once more.

No! His heart can't have stopped... it can't! Tears streaming down my face, I lean even closer, willing him to take a breath, refusing to accept this as our end. "Bomboclat," I plead desperately, pressing harder against his neck. "Please... you have to fight."

Panic grips me tightly as realization dawns: unless he starts breathing soon, there's nothing I can do to save him. My fingers tremble uncontrollably as I try again and again to find some sign of life within his cold body. "Please," I whisper brokenly, my voice ragged from tears and fear. "Don't leave me like this... please."

At the first faint rustle of air through his nose, relief washes over me like cool water after a brutal desert trek. My fingers fly off of his neck as I lean back, searching frantically for any other signs that he's coming back to me. Tears stream down my face in gratitude as I watch his chest rise and fall with each labored breath, feeling my own heart begin to slow once more. "Bomboclat," I whisper hoarsely, gently brushing the hair from his forehead. "You're going to be okay."

I lean over him again, my fingers trembling as they reach out to cup his cheek. "Please don't leave me like that," I beg softly, my voice ragged with emotion. "We can work this out... we just need time." As I watch him begin to stir back to consciousness, I feel a desperate hope well