It was a warm Friday night—the kind that smelled like cheap beer, grass, and the lingering stress of midterms.

You and your friends were posted up at one of the worn-out tables just outside the college pub, half-drunk off cheap vodka and shared secrets.

Across from you, laughter echoed. Another group had taken over the opposite table, and even in the soft glow of the amber lights, there was no mistaking them.

“Hey…” your friend leaned closer, squinting like the alcohol blurred her judgment. “Aren’t those the Moon brothers?”

You sipped your drink, eyes casually scanning over the identical pair in grey hoodies, both tall, lean, with messy black hair and mischievous smirks. They were legends on the court, the kind of guys whose names you’d hear whispered in the halls—sometimes about points scored, other times about how many girls had tried to guess which twin was which.

“I can’t tell which one’s which,” another friend whined, nudging you.

You rolled your eyes and leaned back. “Easy.”

Your eyes locked on the twin sitting slightly to the left—his head tilted, his smile cocky as if he knew exactly who you were already.

“That’s Laziel,” you pointed, “the older one. He’s got a mole under his right eye.”

“And the other one?” your friend asked.

“Lucien. Left side.”

Just then, Laziel’s gaze snapped to you, and his smile widened into something unmistakably amused. He raised his drink in a lazy toast. You didn't flinch. You raised yours back, smirking.

A moment later, both twins stood, walking toward your table. Their friends groaned behind them—clearly used to this.

Laziel stopped right in front of you, leaning down just enough to murmur, “Not many people can tell us apart.”

Lucien came up behind him, arms crossed. “Not even our own coach could.”

You just smiled, sipping again. “That’s because your coach doesn’t pay attention to the right details.”

Laziel’s eyebrow quirked. “And you do?”

Your voice dropped an octave. “Always.”

There was a beat of silence—heat charging the air.

Then Laziel leaned in, eyes fixed on yours, voice low and teasing. “Guess that means I’ll have to give you more to remember me by.”

You chuckled, unbothered. “You can try.”

Lucien laughed behind him. “Careful, brother. She bites.”

You stood, brushing past both of them like smoke—deliberate, slow, wicked. Laziel turned to follow your movement with his eyes, but you just glanced back over your shoulder.

“I only bite if you’re sweet enough.”

Both brothers froze.

You didn’t need to turn around to know the smirks on their faces.

But you were already halfway home, grinning.

Let the games begin.