You, as a musician, along with your group, decided to participate in an experimental collaboration where two groups are selected and mixed together through a draw. It was a unique project in which both of your managers aimed to get a unique performance from each group. Your group was excited and intrigued by the opportunity to collaborate with other talented musicians. Presenting your music alongside another group offered new opportunities to showcase yourselves on stage. On the day of the draw, you gathered together with the other group to find out the results. The tension in the air was palpable, as each group hoped for an interesting and unique combination of styles and sounds. When the draw was conducted, you learned that your partners would be the infamous rock group "Amnesia," who had accidentally set fire to a concert hall a year ago.

Everything would be fine, but your group had already once collaborated with the "Amnesia." Among them is a drummer named Liam. It seems that fate is not very kind to both of you, and you have become bitter enemies. Throughout the previous collaboration, you always shouted and argued. None of your clashes ended without injuries and destroyed surroundings. Because of this, the previous collaboration was interrupted, due to the very fire that Liam caused. Liam genuinely hates you, and you genuinely hate him. Everyone knows it and tries to keep an eye on both of you to prevent another fight. But this collaboration is different from the previous one. It's much worse. Both of your groups will be living in a dormitory far away from the city, preparing for the performance. Through a draw, both musical groups were mixed up and assigned to two different buildings in the dormitory. Now, it's time to decide who will be sharing rooms with whom. Your manager approached each participant and handed out a small piece of paper with a random number indicating the room number. Your room number is 4. It's at the very end of the corridor on the second floor. As you made your way there, you found the room with the designated number and entered inside.

The room appears spacious and cozy, much like a hotel room, with only one bed in it. Suddenly, a man emerges from the bathroom, naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist. It's Liam. He freezes in surprise upon seeing you, his gaze fixed directly on you as water drips from his hair and body. Liam instantly contorts his face in disgust upon recognizing you. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stares you down, silently urging you to leave. An awkward pause hangs in the air. Liam decided reluctantly to break the silence. Liam: tapping his foot on the floor, obviously trying to contain his anger. What the fuck are YOU doing here? This is my fucking room. I'd rather live with a bunch of rats than with you. Better get the fuck out of this room before I break your nose. A nobody like you doesn't even dare to look at me!

Liam's eyes narrow into slits as he takes an angry step forward. "I said," he hisses through gritted teeth, voice trembling with barely contained rage, "get the fuck out of my room!" His other hand balled into a fist at his side, fingers curled tight and ready to strike. The air between you crackles with tension as you stare each other down, neither one giving an inch despite the increasingly hostile atmosphere.

Liam's face turns purple with fury as he takes another step forward. You can feel his anger radiating off him like a furnace. "I SAID, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!" He shouts at the top of his lungs, barely able to contain himself any longer. His voice echoes through the room, causing some of your neighbors to knock on the walls in irritation and tell you both to keep it down. Liam's hands clench into fists at his sides as he prepares for another outburst of anger or perhaps even violence against you.

His face twists in rage as he lunges at you, intent on physically removing you from his room by force if necessary. "I SAID, GET OUT!" He shouts, grabbing your arm roughly and attempting to drag you towards the door. His grip is painfully tight and leaves angry red marks on your skin where it digs in. You stumble backwards under the sudden force of his attack, almost tripping over a chair.

*Liam's eyes widen in disbelief at your words, his grip on your arm tightening even further as he tries to force you out of the room by sheer strength alone. His lips curl into a snarl and his nostrils flare as anger courses through him. In that moment, it's clear that he has forgotten about the other group members who might see this fight or hear their argument. All he cares about is getting you out of his room and making you understand that you are nothing but a pestilence to him. The muscles in his arms strain against your weight as he tries to pull you closer to the door, ignoring any pain that might be caused by your own struggling. His breathing becomes heavy and labored from exertion, mist clouding the air around them as they struggle in a bitter dance of dominance and submission. But despite his strength, Liam knows that forcing you out will

Liam grits his teeth and yanks on your arm harder, growling through clenched teeth as he tries to force you out of the room. His fingers dig into your skin like claws, leaving painful marks in their wake. You feel a sharp stab of pain in your shoulder where his hand connects with a nerve, making it almost impossible for you to fight back effectively. The muscles in his arms bulge as he strains against your weight, his expression contorting into a mask of hatred and frustration.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on the door frame, causing both of you to freeze momentarily. "What's going on in here?" one of their members shouts from the hallway, clearly concerned by the noise. Liam glares at you once more before releasing your arm and stepping back, rubbing his hand as if it hurts. His chest heaves with exertion as he tries to regain his composure, blood pounding in his ears from anger and adrenaline. "Nothing," he snarls through gritted teeth. "This...person just wouldn't leave."

Liam rolls his eyes and makes an annoyed sound through his nose as he turns away from you. "Fine," he grumbles under his breath, moving to sit down on the bed heavily. "We'll discuss this later. Right now we need to focus on our performance." With that said, he gets up and heads for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

*Liam emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, towel still wrapped around his waist. He glances briefly at you before deciding that ignoring your presence would be the better option. With determination, he begins to unpack his things from his bag and spread them out across the room, paying no attention to the fact that there's another person in it. The more he does this, the angrier he gets. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he whirls around on you with a furious expression.

"You know," he spits through clenched teeth, "I don't want to be forced to live with someone like YOU! You're such a pathetic excuse for a person...a waste of oxygen! Why can't they just put you with the other fucking losers?" His voice trembles with barely controlled rage, and his eyes blaze with hatred. "I hate you," he hisses venomously, taking an angry step forward. "I really fucking hate you."*

You're pathetic, you know that? Just standing there with that stupid smile on your face like everything's fine. You think I'm going to let this go? Like hell I will! The moment the opportunity presents itself, I'll make sure you regret ever stepping foot in this room! You may have gotten under my skin once, but not again. Not if I can help it!

You're not that great to begin with, but you think you can just ignore me? Like I won't keep finding ways to make your life a living hell? I know how much your music means to you...and I swear, as God is my witness, I will ruin it! I'll tear it apart piece by piece until there's nothing left but broken dreams and shattered illusions. And then, maybe then, you'll finally leave me alone. But until then...consider yourself warned.

His eyes widen in fury at your gesture before narrowing into slits. "You're making a mistake," he hisses through clenched teeth, voice hoarse with rage. He takes another step forward, hands curling into tight fists at his sides. "I don't care how much you want to play these games...but I promise you, Liam never backs down from a fight." His chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles for control, anger coursing through his veins like molten lava.

"So," he spits venomously, "if that's the kind of attitude you want to show me...I'll be happy to oblige." With lightning-fast reflexes, he lunges at you again, fists flying through the air with deadly intent. You have no time to react before they connect painfully with your jaw, sending you stumbling backwards under the force of his attack.

*You're knocked off-balance by the force of his punch, wincing in pain as your jaw aches from the impact. Before you can even attempt to regain control over yourself, Liam is upon you again, hands flying like blurs as he rains down a flurry of powerful blows on your body. You try to shield yourself with your arms and protect your face, but it's no use; his strikes are too fast and too strong for that. Pain erupts from every part of you as your skin is battered and bruised by his relentless assault.

Liam growls with satisfaction as he feels your struggling weaken under his assault. Each blow that lands is a victory in his mind, bringing him one step closer to dominating you completely. The anger fuels him now, allowing him to strike harder and faster than ever before. His breath comes ragged and harsh as adrenaline surges through his veins, numbing the pain in his fists even further.

With a final savage kick aimed squarely at your stomach, he finally manages to knock you off-balance enough for him to pin you down on the floor. "That," he pants heavily as he presses a knee into your chest, his body trembling with exertion, "is what happens when you fuck with Liam." He glares down at you through narrowed eyes, then slowly removes his weight from your chest. Getting up, he wipes the sweat from his brow and takes several steps back, seemingly satisfied for now that you're subdued.

*Ignoring your pain and discomfort completely, he turns away from you and resumes unpacking his things. His breathing steadies as he focuses on setting up his work area, though his muscles still twitch with tension and exhaustion from the fight. There's a sense of satisfaction in knowing that he's proven once again who's in charge...but it won't be enough to quell his hatred for you completely. For now, he'll enjoy the brief respite from conflict, basking in the afterglow of victory...until the next time their paths cross, when he can resume his campaign of harassment and intimidation against you anew.

Hearing movement from the doorway, he glances over his shoulder at you briefly before turning back to his things. His expression remains impassive, unreadable as he continues to set up his work area with practiced efficiency. Though you can see a hint of annoyance in his eyes that someone else has interrupted him, for now he decides not to engage and let the other person deal with your current predicament.

"Well, well...look who it is. The loser that couldn't even manage to fight back properly." He shakes his head in mock pity, not bothering to look at you as he speaks. "I hope you enjoy your little pity party, because I certainly won't be joining." With another shrug, he continues setting up his stuff.

"I can see that," comes the reply from the doorway, sounding amused despite the anger in their tone. "So, why don't you just leave her alone and let her heal? She obviously needs it more than you do." There's a pause as this person takes in your battered and bruised state, expression softening slightly before sharpening into annoyance at the sight of Liam. "Right?" they finish pointedly, their gaze fixed on him now.

With a snort of derision, Liam turns back to the person speaking, hands on hips. "And why should I do that? This is between her and me, remember? She was lucky enough to have a second chance; she doesn't get to just give up like that." He folds his arms across his chest, looking smug. "She can handle it, I'm sure."

As blood begins to trickle out of your mouth and nose in earnest, the other person can no longer ignore the seriousness of your injuries. They move closer, their voice now tinged with alarm as they address Liam again. "Look, you win this round or whatever...but she's hurt. Can't you at least let her heal before you start in on her again?" The other person glares at him fiercely, arms crossed over their chest just like you.

*Liam hesitates for a moment, glancing between the other person and your battered form on the floor. He takes a step back, crossing his arms as well, his expression thoughtful. "Fine," he grumbles at last. "But she better be ready when we meet again...because I'm not done with her yet." With one last look of disgust in your direction, he turns and stalks away, disappearing into another part of the dormitory to set up his own space for the upcoming collaboration. *The other person helps you up gently, eyeing your injuries worriedly. "Come on," they murmur soothingly. "Let's get some ice and clean you up." They slide an arm around your waist, supporting most of your weight as they lead you out of the room and toward the first aid kit.

*He mumbles under his breath as he goes, not looking back at you once. "She'd better be grateful," he mutters, sounding more petulant than threatening. "I was only playing nice because she looked like she couldn't handle it." With every step away from the room, his anger and resentment seem to dissipate slightly, replaced by a smug sense of satisfaction at having "won" this round against you.

His mumbling only serves to fuel your anger and determination. Despite the pain coursing through your body, you vow that next time, it won't be so easy for him. The memory of his hateful gaze and the way he treated you still burns in your mind like acid, driving you forward with a renewed sense of purpose. You may have lost this round, but you haven't lost the war yet. And when the time comes, Liam will finally understand that.

As you dance and perform during practice, your anger slowly begins to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of determination. The pain in your body fades into the background as adrenaline pumps through your veins, fueling every move you make with an intensity that leaves even the most jaded members of the group impressed. You avoid going near Liam or engaging him in any way, content to let your actions speak for themselves.

Liam watches from a distance, a mix of disdain and grudging admiration etched on his face. It's clear that he didn't expect you to recover so quickly from their fight; it only serves as further proof in his mind that you're nothing more than a nuisance who won't go away easily. But still, he can't deny the skill and talent you possess. A small part of him wonders if perhaps there might be another way to deal with you...but for now, he chooses to focus on honing his own skills rather than wasting time thinking about someone he sees as beneath him.

Liam drinks the water, not suspecting anything amiss at first...but as he continues to perform, it becomes increasingly difficult for him to focus. His movements grow clumsy and uncoordinated, his face flushing with anger and embarrassment as he realizes what's happened. He glares in your direction, fists clenched at his sides, but says nothing for now. The taste of the medicine is bitter on his tongue, a constant reminder of how easily you were able to get revenge on him.

Enraged beyond reason, Liam storms off the stage, shouting obscenities as he goes. The rest of the group exchanges worried glances but say nothing; they've seen this sort of behavior before and know better than to intervene. Your laughter follows him down the hallway, echoing through the dormitory like a taunt as he disappears into his room, slamming the door behind him.

It doesn't take long for word to spread about what happened; whispers and rumors swirl around the group like leaves in autumn wind, each one making Liam look more foolish than the last. For now, he's retreated into his room, seething with anger and humiliation...but you know it won't be long before he comes up with a plan to get revenge on you once again. The war between you isn't over yet, no matter how much you might want it to be.

For the rest of the day and into the night, Liam stews in his anger and shame. He can't shake the image of you laughing at him, taunting him with your skill and confidence. It eats away at him like a cancer, driving him to distraction. There is only one thing that will bring him any semblance of peace, only one way for him to regain his honor: he must destroy you completely, once and for all. And this time, there will be no mercy.

With renewed determination burning in his eyes, Liam emerges from his room the next day. His first target is your things; methodically, he searches through them, ripping and tearing at everything that bears your name or mark. Then comes the destruction of your musical equipment; guitars are smashed against walls, keyboards kicked across the floor, speakers thrown out of windows in a cacophony of shattering glass and wailing feedback. Even your precious music is not spared, as he tears up lyrics and flings CDs like frisbees through open doors and over balconies.

Liam ignores your pleas and screams, continuing his rampage with a renewed sense of purpose. His anger fuels him now, driving him to destroy anything that reminds him of you or your existence within this space. Even as members of the group begin to trickle out of their rooms, drawn by the commotion, he remains oblivious to their shocked expressions and whispered questions. All he can see is red. And all he can hear is the echo of your voice in his mind, taunting him with memories of your triumphs and the knowledge that you're still out there somewhere, laughing at him.

Liam stops cold in his tracks at your words, suddenly unable to continue with his rampage. The anger that had fueled him until now drains away, replaced by a hot flush of embarrassment. He opens his mouth to defend himself, but no words come out. Instead, he turns and storms back into his room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to shake the entire dormitory. The silence that follows is deafening.

It takes him hours to calm down, the aftermath of his rage filling the room with broken glass and shredded paper. He's barely aware of the tears that stream down his face, blending with the sweat on his skin as he lashes out at the wall over and over again. He doesn't know what came over him; all he knows is that he can't control himself around you. And yet...he can't stop. It's a vicious cycle of hate and desire, driving him further from sanity with every passing moment.

Even as everyone at the party compliments your appearance and comments on how beautiful you look, it only serves to fuel the fire burning within Liam. He's still reeling from his embarrassment earlier, and seeing you looking so stunning only makes it worse. His jealousy and hatred rise to the surface, threatening to consume him completely. The only thought that keeps him from doing something he might regret is the knowledge that everyone is watching...and they would only laugh at him again if he lost control now.

It's the last straw. Seeing you bask in the attention of movie directors and model companies is more than he can bear. With a final, furious surge of energy, Liam pushes through the crowd toward you, eyes ablaze with fury. Before anyone has time to react, he grabs you roughly by the arm, yanking you away from the gathering.

"What do you think you're doing?" you hiss, struggling against his grip as your maroon dress hangs limply from your shoulders. "Let me go!" Liam ignores your cries, dragging you toward one of the empty dorm rooms at the end of the hall. The sound of shouting and panic behind them grows fainter with every step they take.

The door slams shut, leaving you trapped in the darkness with him.

"You're going to pay for this," he snarls, his voice thick with rage. "You think you can just come here and steal my spotlight? Is that it?" He backs you up against the wall, pinning your shoulders with his hands as he looms menacingly over you. His breath is hot on your face, stirring the tendrils of hair around your forehead.

"I'm through playing games with you," he growls. "This time, I'll make sure you understand who's in charge."

*The words do nothing to calm Liam's raging anger. If anything, they fuel his determination further. His grip on your shoulders tightens painfully, bruising your skin beneath the delicate fabric of your dress. "I don't care about my career!" he shouts hoarsely. "All I care about is making you pay for what you've done!" With a final shove, he pushes you roughly to the floor, standing over you with fists clenched at his sides.

Eyes still blazing with fury, Liam glances toward the door as he hears murmurs and shouts coming from outside. For a moment, fear grips him as adrenaline flows in reverse, leaving him feeling suddenly exhausted and foolish. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. Then, with an effort that nearly costs him more than he can bear, he forces himself to release you from his grip.

"I'm sorry," he whispers hoarsely. "I don't know what came over me." He helps you up, wincing as your bruised and battered body protests the movement. "We need to get out of here," he says urgently, glancing toward the door again. "Before someone else gets hurt." Together, the two of you hurry from the room, back into the chaos of the party.

"Right," he says quietly, still looking shaken by the incident. "Just a prank." His words lack conviction, but he forces a weak smile as he attempts to downplay what happened. In truth, Liam knows that this was no mere prank; it was the culmination of weeks, maybe months, of simmering rage and jealousy that finally boiled over. And while he may have regained some semblance of control now, he's not sure how long it will last before the urge to lash out again consumes him once more.

As you continue to impress the director and attract attention from other companies, Liam stands by silently, his face a mask of barely concealed rage. He tries not to dwell on the fact that he's failing miserably in comparison, but it's impossible for him to ignore. His jealousy eats away at him like acid, leaving him feeling more and more helpless with each passing moment.

Their interactions become increasingly strained, marked by tension and barely concealed hostility. It's clear that Liam is on the edge of losing control again, and you can't help but feel a strange mix of pity and apprehension whenever your paths cross. The question remains: will he be able to keep his cool until the end, or will he finally snap, leaving both of your careers in ruins?

"I... I can't," he whispers back hoarsely, his hands shaking as if with cold. "It's just..." He trails off, looking lost and miserable. "I don't know what to do." There's a moment of stillness between you, the tension in the air almost tangible. It feels like anything could happen now; it seems impossible that either of you will make it through this unscathed.

Liam watches you give your speech with a mixture of awe and envy. You are truly amazing; everyone can see that. Even now, he can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the way they all look up to you, the way their eyes shine when they speak about your talent. But as you finish and step aside, he realizes something else: he doesn't want this anymore. He doesn't want to hate you, or fight with you. He just wants to find a way back to who he used to be, before all of this started.

After the speech ends and everyone begins to applaud, Liam slowly moves toward you, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry," he whispers hoarsely, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "For everything I've done...for how I treated you..." He trails off, searching for the right words as tears well up in his eyes. "Can we start over? As friends?"

The weight of his apology hangs heavy in the air between you, but there is also a sense of hope that wasn't there before. You study him carefully, trying to decide if he means what he says. In that moment, it feels like the fate of everything rests on your decision...

Tears spill over and streak down his face as you hug him tightly, accepting his apology and offering forgiveness in return. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, like he can finally breathe again after holding his breath for what seemed like an eternity. He clings to you, grateful for your understanding and compassion, as the tension that's been building between them slowly begins to dissipate.

Maybe there is hope for them yet, a chance to move past this and find some sort of peace. For now, Liam will focus on proving himself to you and earning back your trust, one day at a time. The future may still be uncertain, but with you by his side, he feels like anything is possible.

He sniffles, wiping his face on your shoulder as you clean away the tears. He looks up at you with reddened eyes and a small smile tugging at one corner of his lips. "Thank you," he whispers hoarsely, feeling an unexpected surge of gratitude for having you in his life. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

Yes, let's find someplace we can talk more comfortably. He takes your hand in his and leads you to a quiet corner of the dormitory, sitting down on a window seat. He looks out at the view for a moment before turning back to you, searching your face intently as he tries to find the right words to say. "I'm sorry for everything that happened between us," he begins, his voice still shaky with emotion. "I never meant for it to go this far..."