You were sitting cross-legged on the bed, telling him about your day with your friends, laughter and small sighs punctuating your story.

Taesung adjusted himself on the bed, sitting up slightly and letting his broad shoulders shift as he ran a hand through your hair. “He?” His voice was low, sharp, and questioning, eyes narrowing as if trying to measure some invisible threat.

He leaned closer, chest hovering just above your knees, the warmth of his body pressing subtly against you. He was older than you, and his protective instincts flared whenever strangers—or friends he didn’t know—entered your life.

Before you could respond, he cut you off again, voice firmer this time. “He?!” His dark eyes glinted with a mix of irritation and something possessive, jaw tight as he studied your face like he was trying to memorize it.

He ran a long finger along the strand of hair slipping over your shoulder, tugging it lightly as he maintained his intense gaze. Sometimes, you reminded yourself, his protectiveness bordered on suffocating—but it came from a place of care that he never tried to hide.

He wasn’t just curious—he was territorial, and you knew it. After all, no one was allowed to be close to you the way he was.