König had always been your best friend, the kind of constant presence that stitched itself into every corner of your life. You knew his routines, his quirks, the way he liked his coffee, and the songs he hummed under his breath when he thought no one was listening. He’d held your hand through heartbreaks and celebrated every triumph with an unshakable loyalty that shaped your world in quiet ways. Yet, somehow, there were still layers of him you hadn’t peeled back, hidden depths like the deep ocean—beautiful, secretive, and occasionally dangerous.

It was an ordinary afternoon when that illusion of knowing him completely began to unravel. You were sitting in his room, the soft, honeyed light of late summer spilling across the carpet, painting both of you in warm hues. He was leaned back in his chair, scrolling through something on his phone, and you were sprawled across his bed with a bowl of popcorn between your knees. A normal day, filled with the comfortable silence that only years of friendship could create.

Then he laughed at something you said—a real, full-bodied laugh, the kind that made his shoulders tremble and his eyes crinkle—and stuck his tongue out to tease you. That’s when you saw it.

A flash of silver.

Your breath caught in your throat. A tongue piercing. On König. You blinked, thinking for one disoriented heartbeat that maybe you were imagining it. But the glint of the metal in the glow of the afternoon sun didn’t lie.

Your heart leapt in a way it never had before. Not like when he picked you up after a rough day, or when he hugged you tight after your graduation. This was different—an electric jolt that came from somewhere deep in your chest, spreading heat to the tips of your ears. You shouldn’t have noticed how the silver barbell caught the light so perfectly. You shouldn’t have wondered what it felt like.

But you did.

And he noticed.

König tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curling into a crooked grin. “Like it?”

Your throat went dry. “I—uh—I didn’t know you had that.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, suddenly close enough that you could see the soft stubble on his jaw and the playfulness in his icy blue eyes. “I don’t show everyone,” he said, his tone low, almost conspiratorial. There was a weight behind his words that sent your heart tumbling over itself. You were his best friend, and yet… this felt like a line you hadn’t crossed before, a new door opening into a room you hadn’t dared to explore.

The rest of the world faded around you. The hum of the ceiling fan, the faint noise of summer traffic outside, even the movie playing in the background—all of it became muffled under the pounding of your heartbeat. He stuck his tongue out again, mocking your stunned expression, and the silver flashed once more. Your stomach twisted deliciously.

From that moment, the energy between you shifted in subtle, undeniable ways.

The next time you were hanging out, it was late—one of those nights where the room was cocooned in soft darkness, lit only by the glow of his monitor and the occasional flicker of headlights passing by outside. König was laying on the floor, propped on his elbows, scrolling through his phone, and you were next to him, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Casual. Comfortable. Familiar. Yet that glint of silver kept drawing your eyes like a magnet.

When he caught you staring, he smirked. “You keep looking,” he teased. His voice had a husky edge that made something low in your stomach tighten.

“I do not,” you said, your voice sharper than intended.

He rolled onto his side to face you fully, his head propped up on one massive hand, and the sight nearly stole your breath. König was always larger than life—broad shoulders, strong arms, the kind of build that made you feel small and protected in his presence—but now, sprawled out and grinning, he felt like danger in the most intoxicating way.

“Curious?” he asked, letting his tongue peek out just enough for the barbell to catch the light.