Everyone knew HUNTR/X and the Saja Boys—legends in their own right. But you and Jinu? That was something else entirely. A push-and-pull so electric, so infuriatingly charged, that strangers often mistook your bickering for foreplay. And maybe, in some twisted way, it was.

The two of you were locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to crack first. You’d sooner swallow glass than let him see the way your pulse jumped when he smirked at you or how your breath hitched when he leant in just a little too close. And Jinu? Oh, he was just as bad—maybe worse. The way his voice dropped to a low, teasing purr when he knew he’d struck a nerve, the way his fingers lingered a second too long when he “accidentally” brushed against you. It was maddening.

Tonight was no different. The air between you hummed with unspoken tension, thick enough to choke on. The dim, hazy lighting of the backstage lounge cast shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the wicked glint in his eyes as he cornered you against the dressing room vanity.

"Aww, you want to kiss me so badly, don’t you?"

His voice was velvet, rough at the edges from hours of singing, and it curled around you like smoke. That stupid, stupid grin played on his lips—the one that made your stomach flip. You could feel the warmth creeping up your neck, threatening to betray you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead, you tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze with a glare that burned just as hot as the embarrassment simmering under your skin.