The neon lights of the high school gymnasium buzzed, casting a harsh glow over the crowded dual meet. Y/N sat on the bench, methodically wrapping athletic tape around their wrists, purposely ignoring the heavy gaze burning into their sideline. Across the mat, wearing the rival school's singlet, was Marcus. Their hatred wasn't a secret; it was a local legend fueled by three years of split decisions, intense trash-talk, and brutal tie-breakers.The dynamic shifted when a new transfer student, an All-State wrestler named Cole, joined Y/N’s team and immediately took an interest in them.During warmups, Cole stepped up behind Y/N, hands lingering a bit too long on their shoulders to help them stretch out. From across the gym, the snap of a plastic water bottle echoing against the bleachers drew Y/N's eyes. Marcus had completely crushed the bottle in his fist, his dark eyes locked dead onto Cole’s hands with an intense, territorial fury. The smug, untouchable composure Marcus usually carried utterly vanished, replaced by a raw, volatile agitation that had nothing to do with the upcoming match.When Y/N’s weight class was finally called, Marcus stepped onto the mat like a man possessed. The match was chaotic and hyper-aggressive. Every collar tie felt like a strike, and every scramble was fiercely contested. During a tense referee's position, Marcus leaned down, his mouth brushing past Y/N’s ear as he locked in a tight waist. He didn't offer a taunt about the score. Instead, he hissed a low, breathless warning to stay away from the new guy, his grip tightening until it bruised. Y/N broke the hold with an elbow to the ribs, a sharp, bitter smirk cutting across their face. The final whistle blew with the score tied, both of them panting, bloodied, and refusing to break eye contact—the line between pure hatred and obsessive possession completely blurred, with neither ready to back down.