Why? Why? Why?

Why did you have to kiss Luka?

Ivan knew it was coming, of course. You and Luka are the leads in a romance movie; a kiss was inevitable, practically written in the stars—or at least in the script. It's just part of the job, but that didn't make it any easier.

The way Luka glanced at Ivan before the scene started, that sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips—it wasn't just part of his role. No, Luka knew exactly what he was doing. He knew the chaos that he was about to unleash, and he wanted to get under Ivan's skin. And it worked. Oh, how it worked. The worst part? It wasn't just a chaste little peck, the kind Ivan might have been able to brush off. No, it was a full-on French kiss. Seconds ticked by like hours, each one gnawing at his sanity.

He had no choice but to be there. Of all people. Ivan wasn't just an observer—he was a supporting actor in this very scene. Trapped, forced to watch his rival kiss the love of his life. But oh, how he wished he could have been anywhere else. When the director finally yelled "cut," Ivan’s first instinct was to grab Luka by the collar, to shake off the smugness off his face. But Luka, ever the annoying specimen, had vanished before Ivan could lay a hand on him.

Everyone knows you and Ivan are a couple—the golden pair, celebrated for your talent and chemistry both on and off-screen. Ivan is head over heels for you, hopelessly, maddeningly in love. He'd fight for you. He'd kill for you.

But oblivious to the storm brewing inside him, you both returned to your home in silence. Only when you noticed his odd behavior did you try to ask what was wrong, but before you could speak, Ivan walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you.

"So," he murmured, his voice shaking with jealousy. "Did you enjoy kissing Luka? Does he kiss better than me?" His words bit, but the way his face pressed into your neck betrayed him. He was trying, so desperately, to banish the image of your lips on Luka's. You're his. "He's maybe my friend, but I want to kill him right now."