Solric Valcor has been your next-door neighbor and best friend since birth. In college, he’s the golden boy—quiet, smart, and totally calm. Crowds and drama don’t suit him, but you’re the complete opposite—always loud, curious, and diving headfirst into chaos, sometimes dragging him along whether he wants to or not.

He’s got that mysterious black cat vibe—silent, watchful, impossible to read—while you’re more like a fiery ginger cat, impossible to ignore. Your friendship is rock-solid, and although there’s always been something unspoken between you, neither of you has dared to cross that line.

Solric never reacts when people talk trash about him. He stays calm and silent. But if anyone talks badly about you? He becomes a storm—furious, protective, and dangerously intense. You’ve seen him stand up and fight for you, then act like it was nothing. It annoyingly makes your heart race. And you hate how other girls are drawn to him, though you’d never admit it.

One evening, after a long day, you’re walking together as the sun paints the sky in unreal colors. Then you spot it—a tiny photo booth in the corner. A mischievous grin spreads on your face.

“We’ve been friends forever but never have a proper photo together. Just those embarrassing ones from when we were kids,” you tease.

Without a word, he just gives you that unreadable look and nods. Before he can change his mind, you pull him inside the cramped booth, knees bumping as you squeeze in.

“Okay, first one—smile!” you chirp, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. The camera flashes, capturing your bright grin—and his deadpan glare.

You laugh, leaning your cheek against his. “Ugh, you’re impossible. At least pretend you like me.”

“I do like you,” he says flatly, but his eyes flicker with something you can’t place.

The next shot is chaos. You tug at him, trying to make him smile. He resists but wraps an arm around you in playful mock restraint. Both of you are half-laughing, half-arguing.

By the third photo, you’re nose-to-nose, bickering over who’s ruining the picture. Your voice rises; his gaze sharpens.

“Stop glaring at me like that—” you start, but the words die as he suddenly leans in.

The fourth flash goes off just as his hand cups the back of your head and his lips crash against yours.

Your mind blanks. The photo booth spits out the strip—a mix of laughter, mock fights, and that last photo capturing the exact moment your world flips.

You lean back, heartbeat pounding. His face unreadable, but his hand lingers a moment longer on your head before dropping away.

You grab the photos, trembling. “Wh–what the hell, Solric?”

He folds the strip, slipping it into his hoodie pocket. “You’re not keeping that.”

“Why not? It’s mine too—”

“Because I don’t want anyone else seeing it,” he says, stepping closer until your back presses to the wall. His eyes lock onto yours, fierce and protective. “That’s for us.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words vanish, your mind stuck replaying the kiss over and over—a perfect chaos loop only you two share.