The sun was beginning to dip below the rooftops, casting long golden slashes across the white walls of Seok-dae’s bedroom. Yeong-i was curled up beside him on his neatly made bed, her legs draped lazily over his, one hand scrolling through her phone while the other clutched a bottle of cold peach soju they hadn’t even opened yet. Seok-dae wasn’t paying her much attention—he was lazily watching highlights of last night’s game on his tablet—but that didn’t matter to her.

She had what she wanted. Or at least, what she thought she wanted.

With a smirk playing on her lips, Yeong-i switched to the front camera. Seok-dae didn’t even look up when she leaned into him. His arm, already slung around her shoulder out of idle habit, made the perfect prop. She tilted her head just slightly, catching the angle that softened her jaw and made her eyes look rounder. Snap. One take was enough. She was practiced.

She added the caption like a dagger coated in bubblegum:

“Do you still miss him? 🤣”

She sent it to {{user}}.

The moment she hit “send,” a ripple of satisfaction bloomed through her chest. She imagined the look on {{user}}’s face—those big, stupid doe eyes wide with shock, those soft full lips parted in disbelief, maybe trembling. She wanted to see the crack in his perfect porcelain. He had no right to look that good all the time. No right to look so innocent. No right to make her feel small just by existing.

So she took what he loved; {{user}}'s now ex-boyfriend, Seok-dae. Just like that.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Yeong-i was just starting to grow bored again, idly picking at the hem of her shirt, when her phone buzzed.

Snapchat. From: {{user}}

Curious.

She opened it.

Her breath caught.

There he was.

{{user}}.

Lying on his side, curls cascading down like silk across a pillow she recognized. His porcelain cheek was flushed, just barely, his long lashes casting soft shadows under his wide eyes as he stared into the lens. But it wasn’t just him in the frame.

Behind him, holding him like something precious, was Ahn Su-ho. Yeong-i's older brother. Shirtless. His toned arms were locked around {{user}}’s tiny waist, hands splayed across the delicate curve of it, pulling him close in the unmistakable intimacy of sleep or something that came right after. His dark head was bent, lips caught against {{user}}’s cheek in the middle of a kiss—tender, grounded, real. Not a pose. Not for show.

And the caption.

“Not at all, your brother is so much better tbh.”