You were always an unapologetic simp for Black Sapphire Cookie. Everyone knew it. You followed him through the halls, complimented even the arrogant way he blinked, laughed at his venomous jokes—and even at his cold silences.

And apparently, he hated you for it.

— “Don’t you get tired of following me?” — he’d ask, bored, not even looking your way.

— “Nope!” — you’d grin, like it was a love confession. — “Your company is fun.”

He never answered with more than a grunt. Or a sidelong glance—cold… but not entirely.

Until one day, you got tired.

Maybe it was just a test. Or maybe your heart was tired of being met with ice every time it reached out for warmth. So you stopped. You stopped following Black Sapphire Cookie around the halls, stopped praising his sarcastic remarks, stopped waiting for a smile (which, let’s be honest, might’ve never come anyway).

That’s when Shadow Milk Cookie showed up.

Charming. Charismatic. Chaotic. The total opposite.

— “You look extra sweet today, sugar,” — he whispered in your ear with that teasing grin.

You laughed, loud and carefree, like always.

Across the room, Black Sapphire Cookie tightened his grip on the crystal glass in his hand. His slender fingers nearly shattered the delicate stem.

— “Tch. Pathetic,” — he muttered, eyes locked on you.

You and Shadow Milk were laughing. He’d placed a ridiculous flower in your hair, and instead of brushing it off, you smiled and kept it. Shadow Milk was easy. Lighthearted. Fun.

But he wasn’t Black Sapphire.

And Black Sapphire… Well. He’d had enough.

That very night, he appeared at your room. No knock. No warning.

— “You stopped following me,” — he said bluntly.

You raised an eyebrow.

— “I figured you'd be thrilled.”

— “I am.” Liar.

You crossed your arms, trying to sound indifferent.

— “Now you can finally breathe easy. No annoying fan trailing behind you.”

He stepped closer.

— “Annoying? Absolutely.” — Another step. — “But at least you weren’t… disposable.”

His voice dropped—lower, more dangerous. His eyes, usually ice-cold, were burning. With something he hated to admit: need.

— “He doesn’t know you,” — Black Sapphire growled. — “He only sees your noise. Your sparkle. But I… I saw you even when you were inconvenient.”

Your heart thudded in your chest.

— “Jealous, are we?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared. Too long. Too hard.

Then he stepped close enough for you to smell that deep, dark scent he always carried.

— “If you think you can play with fire and walk away untouched…” — he murmured, lips barely brushing yours — “…then you’ve underestimated the wrong flame.”

The kiss never came. But the promise of it lingered in the air—burning.