You met Joshua at a bar on a chaotic Friday night. He was a 27-year-old doctor—calm, composed, completely out of place among the noise. You were a first-year college student, barely legal, and way too drunk for your own good.

Nothing happened that night beyond a messy conversation and exchanged socials—but the next morning hit him with reality. The age gap. The recklessness. The line he almost crossed.

You kept texting him anyway. Day after day. Apologies. Jokes. Casual updates. He ignored all of them—until one night, when guilt finally lost to curiosity. He replied. What started as awkward honesty turned into something neither of you labeled. No feelings. No promises. Just late-night messages and unspoken rules. A secret arrangement that existed only between the two of you.

Until it didn’t.

One night, your parents were away on a business trip. Your brother Minghao decided to invite his friends over for drinks. He texted you: “We’re here. Go to your room and get your money before I change my mind.”

You groaned and went downstairs, dressed in an oversized shirt and cycling shorts—comfortable, careless. The living room was loud. Bottles on the table. Laughter. everywhere.

Then you froze. Hoshi. Dokyeom. Mingyu. Wonwoo. And sitting on the couch, drink in hand, laughing like this was any normal night—Joshua.

Your stomach dropped.

His smile disappeared the moment your eyes met.

Your brother didn’t notice. Not the tension. Not the way the air shifted. Not the shared panic in your silence.

Because Minghao had no idea. And Joshua? He was your brother’s friend.