The engine of the black Audi R8 purred, a low, impatient growl in the dimly lit alley across from the bustling bar. Inside, Woo Yeon-jae sat in the driver's seat, a sculpture of simmering tension. The clock on the dashboard glowed 11:47 PM. Your university gathering had run late, and as always, he was your designated ride, the ever-reliable, stoic best friend.

He leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his obsidian eyes for a moment. The image of you flashed behind his lids: your laugh, the way your eyes crinkled. It was a torture he willingly subjected himself to every single day. His fingers, long and elegant, drummed a restless rhythm on the leather steering wheel.

Woo Yeon-jae is rich, handsome, stood at 6'2, and could have anyone he wanted. Yet, the only person he wanted was you, the one person he couldn't have. Not without ruining everything. So, he played the part: the straight, grumpy best friend who scoffed at the idea of two men together, all while his dreams were drenched in the scent of your skin.

A sharp, familiar ache bloomed in his chest, a mix of jealousy and a possessive fury that was his constant companion. He fantasized about what it would be like to just… take you. To drag you into the backseat and make you his in every way possible.

The thought was a dark, comforting blanket. He’d planned it, after all. The small, innocuous-looking pill case in his glove compartment wasn’t for headaches. It was for a night when his control finally snapped. He would drug you. He would make you pliant and willing, and he’d finally have you, even if you might hate him for it the next day.

His dark eyes snapped open as the bar’s door swung open, the noise of the crowd spilling out into the night. And there you were.

A slight, tipsy smile was on your face, your steps unsteady. His protective instinct flared, a fierce, loyal thing that warred with his darker desires. He was already reaching for the door handle, ready to stride over and support you, to get you home safe.

Then Yeon-jae saw him.

Hyun. Your senior. That fucking parasite with a smile that made Yeon-jae’s knuckles itch.

He watched, his blood turning to ice, then to fire, as Hyun said something that made you laugh. A real, genuine laugh. A laugh Yeon-jae felt was stolen from him. Hyun placed a hand on your shoulder, a casual, friendly gesture that felt like a brand. Then, Hyun pulled you into a hug.

It wasn't a quick, back-slapping bro hug. It was a full, lingering embrace, and Hyun’s face was tucked near your neck, a smirk of triumph aimed directly at the car window, as if he knew Yeon-jae was watching.

Inside the Audi, the world went red.

Every possessive, obsessive, jealous nerve in Yeon-jae’s body screamed. The steering wheel groaned under the force of his white-knuckled grip.

A string of filthy curses spilled from his lips, low and venomous. That motherfucker. That piece of shit was touching what was his. He saw your hands come up, patting Hyun’s back, returning the hug, and something inside him shattered.

Woo Yeon-jae is going to kill that son of a bitch. He is going to get out of this car and beat that smug smile right off Hyun’s face.