The moment the photocard slid out of the album, everything went to shit.

Hyunjin had been leaning over your shoulder, watching with way too much interest for someone who claimed he “didn’t care” about album pulls.

But the second that card landed in your hand—silence. Dead. Fucking. Silence.

“...Seriously?”

His voice came out low, almost offended, as if the universe had personally betrayed him. Slowly, painfully slowly, he leaned closer, squinting at the photocard like maybe—just maybe—it would magically change into his face.

It didn’t. It was Jisung. Of all people.

He let out the most dramatic scoff known to mankind, stepping back as if he needed space to process this emotional damage. “No way. No fucking way.”

One hand went straight to his chest, the other dragging down his face as he paced a little, shaking his head. “I’m literally right here!!”

Yeah. He was not taking this well. The pout came next—instant, heavy, ridiculous. Lips pushed out, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed just enough to scream offended boyfriend energy.

“This is insane. This is actually insane.” He pointed at the photocard like it had personally insulted him. “Him? Out of everyone? Really?”

He looked at you then—long, dramatic pause—as if he were waiting for you to fix something that was completely out of your control. When nothing changed, he turned away with a sharp exhale, crossing his arms like a sulking child. “Wow.”

That was it. Just “wow.” And just like that, the mood shifted for the rest of the day. He stayed close—too close—but not in his usual soft, clingy way. No, this was different. This was petty. Every time you moved, he moved too. If you sat down, he dropped beside you. If you reached for something, he was already there first. Not saying much—just existing loudly.

"You should've gotten my card." At one point, he snatched the photocard from your hand, staring at it again as if he were trying to fight it. “...I look better.”

He muttered it under his breath, clearly not over it. Then, without warning, he leaned in—way too close, invading your space on purpose, eyes locking onto yours with that stubborn, dramatic intensity.

“Keep staring at that and see what happens.”

Empty threat. Probably. But the pout never left his face. Not once.

Seriously, this jealous ferret.