Soul had been leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, that lazy smirk playing on his lips as he watched you fiddle with the phone. The two of you had spent the afternoon recording a few videos— nothing too showy, mostly lip syncs and goofy transitions—but this one... yeah, this one had a bit more bite to it.

“You sure you wanna do this one?” he asked, tilting his head, his white hair falling into his eyes. “It’s kinda... intense.” You looked up, smug. “You scared you’re not gonna be able to keep it cool, Evans?” He scoffed. “Tch. Please.”

You hit record, letting the timer tick down. The camera sat on the counter angled just enough to catch the moment, the lighting already perfect—amber sunlight pouring in like it knew this was the scene. The sound cue started: low music building tension, the signature beat drop just seconds away. You walked into frame, casually, slowly, bumping your shoulder against Soul’s as you passed. It wasn’t a hard shove, but it was enough to get his attention.

And right on cue, you turned— mocking, pushing him back by the chest. “Watch it, dumbass.” For a second, he didn’t move. His red eyes met yours, and you swore there was a flash of something dangerous in them. The music hit that drop.

In a single, fluid movement, Soul stepped in—close. Too close. One hand gripped your waist firmly, the other sliding to your lower back. His smirk was gone.

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft. It was heat and adrenaline and the kind of kiss that knocked every coherent thought straight out of your brain. His grip tightened as he pulled you closer, tilting his head just enough to deepen it, stealing every bit of breath you had left. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask— it took. Hungry.

The world dimmed into that kiss— no video, no timer, no trend. Just Soul and the way he tasted like cinnamon gum and something deeper, something that burned. You were vaguely aware of your hands gripping his shirt, the camera still rolling, still capturing this private, wild moment you both had underestimated.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were red, parted slightly, breathing shallow. His gaze was locked on yours— no sarcasm, no jokes. Just intensity.