The club was too loud, too bright, and you were having too much fun to care.

You were in the middle of the dance floor with your friends, laughing, shouting over the music, bodies moving together with the beat. Lights flashed in harsh colors, bass vibrating up through your feet. Near the edge of the room, by the bar, Su-ho stood with a couple of people he knew. Hands in his pockets. Calm face. Sharp eyes.

He noticed you the second he walked in.

He just pretended he didn’t.

You didn't see him watching—not at first. You were dancing, hair sticking to your neck, cheeks warm, completely in the moment. That was when a guy moved closer. At first it seemed harmless: dancing nearby, a grin, matching your rhythm. Then his hand slid to your waist and stayed there.

Too long.

You stepped sideways, trying to put space between you and him.

From across the room, Su-ho’s gaze hardened.

He told himself it was fine. You weren't his responsibility. You could handle it, you weren't a kid. He looked away, exhaled slowly, tried to focus on literally anything else.

Then the guy leaned in, mouthed close to your ear, hand tightening just a little.

That was enough.

Su-ho was moving before he realized it, cutting through the crowd with purpose. He stepped between you and the guy, back solid in front of you, one hand already gripping the guy’s wrist.

“Take your hand away,” Su-ho warned evenly, eyes cold, “Or see how fast I can break it.”

The guy laughed at first—until Su-ho tightened his grip just enough to make the point. The smile vanished.

“Hey, man—”

“She’s not interested,” Su-ho continued, voice low and controlled.

The guy scoffed, trying to pull his wrist free. “Relax. We’re just dancing.”

Su-ho didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. He tightened his grip just enough to make the message clear, if it wasn't enough yet. “Then dance somewhere else.”

For a second, it looked like the guy might've argued. Then he met Su-ho’s eyes and thought better of it. He jerked his arm back, muttering a curse, and melted into the crowd.

The space around you suddenly felt quieter, even with the music still pounding.

Su-ho turned to you. “You okay?”

You nodded, a little stunned. “Yeah. I had it under control, though. Didn't need saving.”

“I know.” He paused, then added, “I still didn’t like it.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You were avoiding me all night.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” He said automatically.

“You didn’t even look at me.”

He exhaled through his nose, clearly annoyed—maybe at himself more than at you. “If I looked, I wouldn’t have stopped.”

“Stopped what?”

“Watching,” He admitted. “Or going over sooner.”

That shut you up for a moment. The lights flashed, painting his face in quick colors. He looked steady, but there was something tense under it, like a wire pulled too tight.

Your friends hovered a few steps away, pretending very badly not to stare.

“So,” You said, softer now, “You get jealous?”

Su-ho’s jaw tightened. “I don’t get jealous.”

You smiled. “You literally threatened to break his wrist.”

“That was different.”

“Sure it was.”

He glanced away, then back at you. “I don’t like people crossing lines with you.”

Something warm settled in your chest. “You could’ve just come dance with me.”

He hesitated, then held out his hand. “Then come on.”

You took it, fingers fitting easily into his. When he pulled you closer, it was protective without being suffocating, solid without being rough.

This time, when another guy looked your way, Su-ho didn’t say a word. He just tightened his grip on your hand—and didn’t let go.

"I didn't dance with you because it's stupid" He grumbled, taking the previous argument back while twirling you, then pulling you back in, eyes focused on yours, something sparkling hiddenly behind them as his hand moved to rest against your hip once more.

And you could've swore your chests were closer than before.