I Refuse To Like You

I'm running-barefoot, breathless, and already aware that this entire situation is unnecessarily dramatic, even by my standards. The road stretches endlessly ahead of me, swallowed in darkness, empty in the way horror movies always warn you about, and yet here I am anyway, sprinting straight into it like I have absolutely no survival instincts. Typical.

My heart pounds violently against my ribs as I risk a glance over my shoulder, and there they are-five men, because apparently my subconscious doesn't believe in moderation. Not one, not two, but a full, coordinated squad like this is some kind of low-budget crime scene staged purely for my inconvenience. I barely have time to process it before they catch up, rough hands grabbing at me, dragging me down until my back hits the cold pavement with a force that knocks the breath straight out of me.

Panic spikes up immediately but instead of doing anything useful-like fighting back or screaming for help in a productive way-I find myself stuck in that frustrating, sluggish dream-state where nothing quite works the way it should. One of them, clearly the leader by the way he carries himself with misplaced confidence, leans over me and grabs at my top, tearing into it with all the subtlety of someone auditioning for a terrible crime film.

"Oh, absolutely not-" I start, more offended than afraid at this point, but dream-me, unfortunately, is useless, because my body doesn't follow through with anything remotely effective.

He reaches for me again-

And then suddenly, he's gone.

Not vanished. Not magically erased. Just... yanked away with abrupt, violent force.

A hand grips the back of his collar and drags him off me before a punch lands square across his face with a sickening crack. I blink, momentarily stunned, as another punch follows, and then another, each one clean, precise, and entirely too effective for whatever situation this is supposed to be.

The other four rush forward at once, and somehow-because dreams have no respect for logic or realism-the stranger handles them like he's been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. Movements sharp, controlled, extremely effortless. Within seconds, the chaos collapses in on itself, and the men scatter, retreating into the darkness as quickly as they appeared.

Silence settles.

I push myself up slightly, still catching my breath, my mind scrambling to make sense of what just happened. My mysterious savior stands a few feet away, shoulders rising and falling as he exhales, calm in a way that feels entirely undeserved.

My knight.

My rescuer.

My-

He turns.

And I see his face.

The scream tears out of me before I can stop it.

"Kieran?!"

Of course it's him. Of course my own subconscious decides that if I'm going to be rescued, it has to be by the one person I would never willingly accept help from.

"What are you doing here?" I demand, scrambling to my feet and clutching at my torn top, more outraged than relieved. "How dare you save me?!"

He pauses mid-step, clearly thrown off by the complete lack of gratitude, his expression tightening in a way that suggests he's questioning every decision that led him here.

"I thought you were-" I gesture vaguely, frustration spilling over as I search for the right word and settle on the most insulting one. "-someone useful. Someone decent. A prince, maybe. But no. It's you. That's somehow worse."

"Kara-"

"No. No, absolutely not." I shake my head, taking a step back like he's the actual problem here. "This has to be a dream. There's no universe where I'd willingly be rescued by you. I reject this entire situation."

He exhales slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, and somehow manages to look irritated, like I'm the one being unreasonable.

"Kara, let me help you."

"Over my dead body," I snap instantly. "What are you even doing in my dream? Get out."

"It doesn't work like that-"

"I don't care how it works," I cut in sharply. "Leave."

"Kara-"

I narrow my eyes, decision settling in with perfect clarity. "You know what? I'm waking up."

"That's not how-"

I drive my knee straight into him.

Hard.

The impact folds him slightly, a sharp breath leaving him as he clearly did not anticipate violence-again, in my dream.

"That," I say coldly, brushing imaginary dust off myself, "is for unauthorized entry. The next time you show up in my subconscious, I won't be this nice."

And then I start screaming.

Not the kind of scream people do for attention. Not the dramatic, cinematic kind meant to look good on screen. This is loud, chaotic, completely unhinged, the kind of scream that exists for one purpose only-to wake me up and end this nonsense immediately.

And just like that, everything snaps.

I bolt upright in bed, the scream still tearing out of my throat as reality crashes back into place around me, my chest heaving as if I've actually been running, lungs burning, heart slamming violently against my ribs like it's trying to escape.

For a second, I don't move.

I just sit there, frozen, fingers gripping the sheets, my body caught halfway between panic and awareness as my surroundings slowly begin to piece themselves together. The darkness of the road fades, replaced by the bright green walls of my bedroom, staring back at me like they've personally witnessed my embarrassment. The black accents spread across the room in sharp contrast that suddenly feels way too calm for what I just experienced.

Posters line the walls-hot anime and manhwa men posed like they know exactly what they're doing, a few male celebrities who actually deserve the attention, Beyoncé in all her untouchable glory, and, most importantly, the only magical girl that matters-Serene Bloom-staring down at me like she's silently judging my life choices.

My breathing is still uneven, my pulse refusing to settle as I drag a hand down my face, trying to physically wipe away the image that's still burned into my mind.

Kieran.

In my dream.

Saving me.

Absolutely not.

I glance down at myself quickly, fingers brushing over my top in a sudden check, half-expecting damage that isn't there. Everything's intact. The lingering panic loosens just slightly, replaced immediately by irritation.

No. Not irritation.

Offense.

Deep, personal offense.

I swing my legs off the bed, the cold floor grounding me instantly, and for a brief moment, I just sit there, elbows on my knees, trying to process the sheer audacity of my own subconscious. Out of everyone-everyone-it chooses him?

Unacceptable.

Completely unacceptable.

That's it.

I slide off the bed and drop to my knees without hesitation, the shift from disbelief to purpose immediate, hands clasping together as my eyes shut tightly, my breathing still uneven but my focus sharp and absolute.

"Heavenly Father," I begin, voice firm despite the lingering adrenaline, "thank You for delivering me from that nightmare."

My fingers tighten slightly as I continue.

"Any spirit of Kieran in my life, I bind and destroy it in the name of Jesus. I forbid any appearance of his face in my dreams ever again."

I take a steady breath, doubling down with conviction.

"And Lord, if he dares to return-burn him. Thoroughly. No mercy. Strike him with lightning if necessary. Repeatedly."

A brief pause follows, not out of hesitation, but consideration for what to add.

"Also, please deal with his friends. Especially Shade-he looks suspiciously calm, and I don't trust that. And that other one who keeps wearing the same shirt like it's a personality trait. You know who I mean."

Another breath, slower this time.

"And while You're at it, protect my family, bless us abundantly, and keep me far away from unnecessary irritation. Amen."

I open my eyes.