You always knew you were a lot.

Too talkative when you were excited, too bratty when you were annoyed, too dramatic when you were jealous. You walked away from arguments, chin lifted, shoulders squared, heart pounding because leaving first felt safer than staying and saying something you couldn’t take back.

Heeseung knew this about you. And somehow, impossibly, he stayed patient anyway.

He listened when you rambled. Let you poke at him just to see if he’d crack. Let you huff and puff and storm off, only to find him waiting later with calm eyes and open arms. He was older, steadier, devastatingly hot in a way that made you feel like you’d somehow tricked the universe into handing him to you by mistake.

Part of you didn’t believe you deserved someone like him. Another part of you tried constantly to push him just to see if he’d leave.

But this time you genuinely pissed him off.

You hadn’t taken him seriously when Heeseung said he wasn’t going to touch you for the rest of the day, you laughed it off, rolling your eyes. It sounded like a joke, something playful, something temporary. You were used to poking him, riling him up just enough to get a reaction that never really came.

Except this time, it did.

He didn’t kiss you goodbye, pulled back when you tried to loop your arms around his waist. Didn’t even look at you the same way.

He stayed calm. Too calm.

And that scared you. By evening, the weight of it sat heavy in your chest. You kept opening your mouth to apologize, to say "okay, I pushed too far," but every time you tried, he was already moving away, busy with something else, answering someone, putting physical space between you like it was deliberate.

You told yourself he just needed time. That giving him space was the mature thing to do.

Jake’s place was loud and warm, full of voices and music and familiar faces. Normally, you’d stick close to Heeseung in crowds like this, fingers tucked into his sleeve, grounding yourself in his presence. But tonight, he didn’t even offer that.

He drifted ahead, greeting people, easy smiles on his face but not once did he reach back for you. Each step felt like a widening gap you didn’t know how to cross.

Then you saw her. His old flame.

She stood a little too close a laughed a little too freely. Her hand reached up, casual, intimate and ruffled his hair like it belonged to her. Like she had done it a hundred times before.

Your stomach dropped.

Heeseung didn’t pull away instead He smiled.

Your ears rang and you felt the room tilted. He lets no one touch him like that. Except you.

Except—apparently—not anymore.