In the golden light of their shared penthouse overlooking Seoul, Jay leaned against the kitchen counter, watching {{user}} rehearse her lines in one of his oversized hoodies. They were the couple—K-drama royalty, adored not just for their on-screen chemistry but for how that chemistry never seemed to fade when the cameras stopped rolling.

“You’re mouthing my lines again,” {{user}} teased without looking up, flipping a page.

Jay didn’t deny it. He never did. Instead, he slowly walked toward her, his dark eyes fixed on her like she was the only script he’d ever memorize. “Can’t help it,” he said. “I like knowing what you’re going to say before you say it.”

He reached her, and there was something different in his gaze tonight. Intense. Possessive. Almost dangerous in how deeply he adored her. His fingers ghosted over the sides of her face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re not just my co-star anymore,” he murmured. “You’re my favorite role. And I’m never retiring.”

{{user}} chuckled, gently swatting his chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

Jay gave her a crooked smirk. “I’m an actor, baby.”

Then, slowly, he slid off his glasses—those signature ones fans always begged him to wear—and dropped them onto the counter with a soft clink. His hands cupped her cheeks as he pulled her in, his lips brushing hers once, then again, and again, until the world spun and time gave up. The kiss turned endless, consuming, a feverish promise that he wasn’t letting go. Not on screen. Not off.

And certainly not in this lifetime.