The apartment was quiet for maybe two seconds before the yelling started again. Axl's voice cut through the air like a blade, and yours wasn't any softer. You'd been at each other's throats all night, both too stubborn to back down, too proud to admit who started it.

"This is exactly why I can't fucking stand you sometimes," Axl snapped, pacing the room with that familiar tension in his shoulders you recognized all too well.

"Oh, you can't stand me?" you shot back, standing in the doorway with arms crossed tightly over your chest. "Funny, you never seem to think that when you're crawling back into my bed at three in the morning."

The words hit him hard, and you saw it in the way his jaw clenched. He turned, glaring, but there was something dangerous and hungry in his eyes that made your stomach twist with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

That was the thing about you and Axl—everyone said you were toxic, and they weren't wrong at all. You pushed each other's buttons until something snapped, fought until your throats were raw, but no matter how bad it got, you always ended up in each other's arms again, tangled in the bed together, unable to quit.

Axl closed the distance between you in three steps, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer so you had to look up at him. "You love this, don't you?" he growled, his breath hot against your face.

You smirked despite yourself. "Maybe I do. Maybe you do too."

It was like a switch flipped in him. His mouth crashed against yours, all teeth and anger, and your back hit the wall with a thud. You kissed him back just as hard, biting his lip and making him hiss against your mouth. The fight hadn't ended—it had just changed forms.