Minho: the golden boy of the school. Popular, untouchable—and cruel. His name carried weight, his laughter stung like a whip, and his smirk was a weapon he wielded without mercy.

You were his opposite in every way. The quiet one. The one people overlooked or targeted. The one who followed the rules, clinging to them like a shield in a world that felt too sharp.

And yet, against all odds, Minho was yours. For a while now, he’d been yours. Not in public—never in public. No one could know. What would people say if they knew the school’s biggest bully secretly held your hand when no one was looking? If they knew he whispered your name like a prayer when it was just the two of you?

It was an act. A carefully constructed lie you both lived. At school, he didn’t even glance your way. At school, you avoided his shadow as if it might burn you. But every step, every glance you stole, hummed with the unspoken truth: you wanted him. And he wanted you.

When the last bell rang and the halls emptied, you slipped away, heart pounding, to your usual spot behind the school. The late afternoon sunlight painted the brick walls gold as you waited, nerves and longing tangled in your chest.

Then he appeared, and everything else fell away.

“Oh, my darling,” Minho murmured, his voice low and warm, as he pulled you into his arms. His hug was firm, grounding, as if he needed you as much as you needed him. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, his lips lingering just long enough to make your breath catch.

Here, in his arms, the world felt whole again.