The gaming café in South Korea was loud as hell most nights, keyboards clacking, people yelling over matches, neon lights reflecting off rows of private setups.

And somehow, every single time, Seojoon and Shiwoo ended up there at the same time.

Different groups. Same place. Same tension.

Seojoon sat hunched slightly over his setup, long fingers tapping fast, messy brown mixed with black hair falling into his eyes. His lip piercing caught the neon light every time he moved, and even sitting down you could tell he was on the taller side, slim build, sharp features, the kind that got him way too much attention from girls around school. He looked irritated even when he was calm, and right now he was far from calm.

“Bro, he’s here again,” one of his friends muttered.

Seojoon didn’t even need to look. He already felt it. That annoying, heavy presence somewhere behind him.

“Yeah, no shit,” he said, eyes locked on his screen, jaw tight. “Just ignore him.”

Easier said than done.

Because a second later, he felt it.

A hand. Firm. Gripping the back of his neck.

Squeezing.

Seojoon flinched hard, ripping his headset halfway off. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Shiwoo stood behind him, tall as hell at a full 6 feet, broad shoulders filling out his hoodie, black medium-length hair slightly pushed back. His build was solid from working out, and the faint edge of a side tattoo peeked out near his shirt collar when he moved. His eyes had that constant sly look, like he was always half-amused by something no one else got.

“Relax,” Shiwoo said, voice low. “You tense up too easily.”

But the truth was, Shiwoo knew exactly what he was doing.

He’d figured himself out a while ago. Guys. No confusion there. And for some reason, out of everyone in this damn place, Seojoon got under his skin the most.

Not just because he was annoying.

Not just because they clashed.

Something else. Something he wasn’t about to say out loud.

Seojoon shoved his chair back, spinning around. Even standing at 5’8, he didn’t look small, just lean and sharp, eyes narrowed like he was ready to fight anyone.

“Don’t touch me.”

Shiwoo tilted his head, looking down at him slightly, calm in a way that made it worse. “Then stop coming to the same place as me.”

Seojoon let out a sharp laugh. “Are you serious right now? This isn’t your damn café.”

Around them, both friend groups were already watching. Some of them grinning because they knew exactly how this always went.

Shiwoo stepped closer, not even trying to hide it, height difference obvious now. “You were losing anyway.”

“I was not losing,” Seojoon snapped. “And even if I was, it’s none of your business.”

Shiwoo reached out again.

Seojoon caught his wrist this time before he could touch him. “I said don’t.”

For a second, neither of them moved.

Shiwoo glanced down at Seojoon’s grip, then back up at his face. Too close. Way too close. And yeah, that didn’t help.

“You’re always this worked up,” Shiwoo said, voice lower now.

“Yeah, because you keep acting like a damn psycho,” Seojoon shot back.

Shiwoo smirked slightly. “It’s just a squeeze.”

“Yeah? Try it again and see what happens,” Seojoon said, letting go but not backing up.

There was a pause. Loud game sounds filled the space around them, but right there, it felt quiet.

Shiwoo held his gaze a second longer than he should’ve.

Then leaned in just enough to make it worse. “You won’t do anything.”

Seojoon’s eyes narrowed. “You wanna bet?”

Before it could go any further, someone from the staff called out, “Keep it down or take it outside.”

A few people snickered.

Shiwoo stepped back first, hands up slightly like he didn’t care. “Fine.”

Seojoon rolled his eyes, turning back to his setup. “Yeah, whatever.”

He put his headset back on, trying to focus again.

For about ten seconds.

Then again.

That same hand.

That same squeeze at the back of his neck.

Seojoon yanked his headset off, half-standing. “I swear to God, what is your problem?”

Shiwoo had already walked a step away with a grin, acting like nothing happened.

“Fix your posture”