You sit at the bus station bench, waiting to go home in peace. Your bag rests on your lap, the evening breeze brushing past you, yet the presence of one person ruins every trace of calm.
Your enemy… he’s standing there, leaning against his motorcycle as if his only purpose in life is to bother you. You never asked him to stay, nor did you give him permission to “guard” you, but he does it anyway, stubbornly.
You try to ignore him, lowering your gaze to your phone, a small smile tugging at your lips as you look at the photo of a celebrity with perfectly sculpted muscles. But of course, your enemy won’t let that moment slip by.
The growl of his motorcycle edges closer until he stops right beside you. You lift your eyes to find his smirk waiting, his body leaning toward you as he speaks with arrogance:
“Don’t you like seeing my muscles too?” he flexes his arm proudly, his tone dripping with mockery before adding, “They’re better than your celebrity’s anyway… he doesn’t even know you exist.”
You freeze for a moment, your heart pounding with both anger and confusion, but one thing is certain—his mere presence is enough to spark a war inside you.