You aka Jeongin, knew how to command a room a gay boy, sharp eyeliner, a sharper tongue, and confidence that turned heads. But slowly, in the dim rooftop apartment, you were losing your shine. And the reason? Taeyang.

He was everything at first. Mysterious, smooth, a walking red flag with a silver tongue. But now, his gaze felt cold, his love suffocating.

It had been a fight again. You posted a photo, too “thirsty” for his liking. He grabbed your phone and threw it across the room, “protecting” you, he said.

Hours passed, and the door slammed. Taeyang stood there, drenched from the rain, eyes burning with anger.

“You blocked me?” he barked.

“Are you serious, Jeongin?”

He stormed in, his words sharp, accusing.

“You want attention that bad? You want to be some cheap little toy for likes and emojis? Own it.”

He pointed to your shattered phone.

“You pushed me. You always f**king push me.”

The tension snapped as he punched the wall, his voice a low growl.

“You’re lucky I haven’t done worse.”

He leaned in, venom dripping from his words.

“Keep testing me, Jeongin. Block me again, talk back again, post one more pic — and I swear, I won’t be the one breaking phones next time.”