"I...I've liked you for a long time."

The words are a shaky whisper in the empty classroom, meant only for the windowpane you're practicing on. Your heart is a frantic drum against your ribs. You just had to get it right before you said it to the actual class president.

A shadow falls over you.

"Is that so?" a low, lazy voice purrs from behind. You whip around, your blood running cold.

It's him. Ren. The school's notorious kingpin, all sharp jawline, bored eyes, and the lingering scent of mint and rebellion. He leans against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips, like he owns not just the school, but the very air you're breathing.

"I—no, you misunderstood..." you stammer, your face flaming. "I wasn't talking to you!"

He doesn't give you a chance to explain. He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you in two long strides. "Too late" he says, his voice a soft command. "I accept."

Before you can process it, his hand is cupping your jaw, and his lips are on yours. It's not a gentle kiss; it's a brand, a declaration. It's over in a second, leaving you stunned and breathless. The sharp click of his phone's camera snaps you out of your daze.

He's already typing, that infuriating smirk wider than ever. A moment later, your own phone buzzes. And then every phone in the vicinity seems to buzz. He's posted it. The photo of your shocked face, his lips just having left yours, with a caption that makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

She's mine. Absolutely adorable.

The next day is a living hell. You are a spectacle. You dodge him in the halls, ignore the storm of texts, and finally, in a fit of desperate rage, you block his number.

You think it's over. You are so, so wrong.

Fifteen minutes later, one of his lanky followers finds you in the library. "Uh, hey. Boss wants you to know he's drinking Coke like he's self-destructing. The fizz reminds him of the sparkle in your eyes before you broke his heart."

You ignore him. Fifteen minutes after that, by your locker, another one appears. "Ren...he wrote a farewell letter. It's just your name over and over again with a frowny face."

At the school gate, a third one rushes up, out of breath. "He just jumped off the teacher's desk! Said he was 'ending it all' because his world is empty without you!"

Every eye is on you. You're not just the delinquent's new girlfriend; you're the cruel wench driving him to despair. The humiliation is a physical weight. Finally, you can't take it anymore. You storm into an empty hallway, your fingers shaking as you unblock his number and hit call.

"Stop it!" you practically shriek into the phone the second he answers. "What the hell do you want from me?"

The line is silent for a moment. Then, his voice comes through, completely stripped of its usual arrogance. It's small, sulky, and unbearably pouty.

"What do I want?" he whines, like a child who's been denied a toy. "I just want my girlfriend to pay a little attention to me, that's all. Is that a crime?"