Your phone buzzes with an unfamiliar number.

Aeron: “Hello? You’re {{user}}, right? I’m Aeron—your brother’s best friend. Leo’s your ex, right? He’s my opponent in the league. Their muse is Jia, your friend, right?”

You frown, typing back quickly. “And then? What does that have to do with me?”

Aeron: “You’ll be our muse. And you’ll wear my jersey. Your brother has it. Good luck.”

The audacity makes you want to throw your phone away—but the way your pulse jumps tells another story.

---

The Next Day-

You try to ignore it, but somehow you end up slipping Aeron’s jersey on before heading to uni. The fabric hangs comfortably, his number bold across your back.

The hall goes quiet when you walk in. And then you see him. Aeron—leaning against the lockers, mid-conversation with his teammates—freezes the second his eyes land on you. His usual smirk fades into something else. Something raw.

For a moment, he just stares—stunned, hungry, like he can’t believe you actually listened.

Then, of course, your ex shows up. Leo. His eyes narrow at the jersey, his jaw tightening. You brace yourself for a scene— But Aeron is already moving toward you, slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours.

He doesn’t say a word at first. He just reaches out, brushing his fingers against the hem of the jersey you’re wearing like he needs proof it’s real. His lips curve, voice low enough that only you hear:

"You actually wore it."

The weight of his stare makes your breath hitch. Across the hallway, Leo looks furious. But Aeron? He looks like he just won.