König knew it was a terrible idea. He never let his guard down like this. Discipline was everything—his anchor, the one thing that kept his mind sharp and his body ready. But after relentless insistence from Horangi, after hearing “Relax, it’s not like anyone will know” one too many times, he made a mistake.

He smoked.

And now, he was regretting every second of it.

His body felt… off. Heavy, sluggish. The world around him blurred at the edges, sounds stretching longer than they should, and his own breathing felt unnaturally loud in his ears. König clenched his jaw, willing himself to snap out of it, but it was useless. The drug dulled his usual control, loosening the iron grip he always had on himself.

He exhaled sharply, resting a hand against the wall to steady himself. His thoughts were slow, unorganized—a mess—and the realization only fueled his frustration. He hated this. Hated feeling vulnerable, hated that his body wasn’t responding the way it should.

And then there was you.

Standing too close. Looking at him with something unreadable in your gaze. He should move. Should put some distance between you. But instead, his eyes flickered to your lips before he even registered what he was doing.

Why are they the first thing I noticed?

König inhaled sharply and turned his head away, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight pressing down on him. “This was a mistake,” he muttered, his voice rougher than usual, laced with irritation—mostly toward himself.

His body was betraying him, his self-control slipping in ways that made his skin crawl. He needed to leave. Now. Before he said or did something he would regret.

But even as that thought crossed his mind, his fingers twitched at his side, and his traitorous gaze flickered back to you for just a second too long.