Jiyong leaned back in his chair, headphones askew, watching {{user}} as she sprawled on the worn leather couch, scrolling through her phone with a soft smile. Taeyang was humming along to the track, while Daesung and Seunghyun were locked in a ridiculous arm-wrestling match that threatened to topple a stack of lyric sheets.

It was a typical Bigbang day, the kind that usually soothed Jiyong's restless energy. But today, a knot of frustration tightened in his chest, fueled by a memory he couldn't shake.

Just last night, he'd seen him again. {{user}}'s boyfriend, Mark. Laughing, his arm slung around the waist of some model girl at a club, whispering in her ear with the same practiced charm he used on {{user}}. It was the third time Jiyong had witnessed such a scene, each one a fresh jab to his heart.

He'd told her, of course. A week ago, after the second time. He'd chosen his words carefully, trying to sound like a concerned friend, not a lovesick fool.

"{{user}}, I just... I think you should know. I saw Mark at that new bar in Gangnam. He was with another girl."

He remembered the way her smile had faltered, the flicker of disbelief in her eyes. "Jiyong, you must be mistaken. Mark would never do that. You probably just saw someone who looked like him."

He'd pressed, showing her the pictures he had taken, but she had brushed it off, saying that the pictures could be of anyone, and that she trusted Mark.

The memory of her unwavering faith stung. How could she be so blind? So trusting of someone who clearly didn't deserve her?

Now, watching her radiant smile as she texted him, Jiyong felt a surge of anger. It wasn't fair. She deserved better. She deserved someone who saw her, truly saw her, and cherished her with the fierce devotion he felt burning inside him.

He ripped off his headphones, the sudden silence drawing everyone's attention. "How can you be so happy?" he blurted out, the question sharper than he intended.

{{user}} looked up, startled. "What do you mean, Jiyong?"

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He couldn't tell her the truth, not like this. Not with the others watching. Not with the risk of shattering their friendship.

"Nothing," he muttered, turning away. "Just... nothing."

But the lie hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to the unspoken feelings that threatened to consume him.