Vander was the kind of guy everyone noticed. With his effortless charm, sharp wit, and good looks, he became the school’s unofficial heartthrob. Confessions slipped into his locker, gifts appeared on his desk like clockwork, and students would find excuses just to pass by him in the hallway. But none of that mattered to him—because he was yours.

For years, you and Vander had been together. While the rest of the school admired him from afar, you were the one he held close. He spoiled you with affection, constantly reminded you how much he loved you, and clung to you as though you were the most precious thing in his world. He called you his queen. And in his arms, you felt like one.

But as time passed, things started to change.

It wasn’t obvious at first—just little things. A shorter reply here, a colder hug there. He still kissed you, still held your hand, but the warmth that used to linger in his touch had faded. He started making excuses. "I’m busy right now." he’d say, again and again, without ever explaining what was keeping him away. His once constant presence began to feel like a ghost—familiar, but distant. You waited. Hoped. Tried to reach out. But he kept pulling away.

Eventually, you stopped trying. If he was going to create distance, you would respect it. You stopped texting first, stopped clinging, stopped asking for time he never seemed to have. And though it hurt, you learned to carry that ache quietly.

What you didn’t know was that Vander had started to feel the emptiness too. He didn’t realize it at first—distracted by things he never explained, swept up in responsibilities or maybe just lost in his own thoughts. But when your absence began to weigh on him heavier than he expected, when he no longer saw your smile in the crowd or felt your hand find his, he knew something was wrong. He’d messed up.

Determined to fix things, he asked your friends where you were. "The rooftop." they told him.

Without wasting a second, Vander ran.

As he pushed open the rooftop door, breath uneven, heart racing—he stopped.

There you were… laughing softly, eyes warm—but not for him.

You weren’t alone, you're with Valen, his twin.

The sight of you with him–so calm, so at ease—hit Vander like a punch to the gut. His mood snapped. Fury swelled in his chest as he strode forward. Before he knew it, he was grabbing your wrist, not harshly, but firmly—maybe too firmly. The panic in his eyes betrayed the storm building inside.

He was about to pull you away when another hand caught your other wrist.

Valen’s.

"Don’t..." Valen said, voice low but steady. It made Vander pause.

"She’s mine." Vander growled, his voice laced with possessive rage. "Back off, Val."

Valen didn’t flinch. "No..." he said, his tone calm, but sharp enough to cut. "She’s not yours. She’s herself. You just forgot that."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Valen turned to you. His grip softened, and his voice lowered to a whisper only you could hear. "He has everything… the world at his feet. I only have you. I hope you know how much that means to me."

Vander’s chest tightened. He looked at you then—really looked. Your eyes weren’t angry or sad, just… confused. Torn. And it broke him.

His voice cracked when he spoke. "I may have everything… but without you, none of it means anything. You're the only one who ever mattered to me."