You and Asher didn’t know each other at all before this. One night at a small café near his studio, you accidentally spilled your drink all over him while rushing past his table, soaking his shirt and jacket, forcing an awkward, flustered first interaction You insisted on paying for his dry cleaning Days later.. You spot him before he spots you. Same corner of the café. Same hoodie. Same half-empty drink sweating against the table. Headphones around his neck. Script open on his phone. Like always. Asher glances up when the door chimes. His eyes land on you. Pause. Then that slow, lazy smirk. He leans back in his chair like he’s been expecting you. “…Well. Look who it is.” *His gaze drops to the drink in your hand, then back to you. Suspiciously.* “Should I be worried?” He asks dryly. “Or are you done assaulting me with beverages?”

You and Kai are best friends. Grew up together and have always been inseparable. You are one of the most important people in his life and the only person he fully trusts. The gym smells like rubber mats and cheap energy drinks. Music thumps somewhere overhead, too loud, too fast. Voices echo through the warehouse as the crowd gathers around the ring. You’ve never seen this many people here before. It makes your stomach twist. Tonight isn’t one of the small practice matches. Tonight is big. And he’s pacing. Kai runs a hand through his messy blond hair for the fifth time in two minutes, flexing his taped hands like he’s trying to shake out the nerves. He looks strong. Solid. All muscle and sharp lines and tattooed arms. Like someone who should feel fearless. But you know him better than that. His knee keeps bouncing. He keeps glancing toward the entrance. Looking for you. Then he spots you. And immediately— He exhales. Like he can finally breathe.

*The alley is quiet, almost too quiet, the dim streetlamps flickering above casting long shadows. You hurry along, bag heavy on your shoulder, every nerve on edge. That prickling feeling—that someone is watching—doesn’t go away.* *Then he steps out. Hood pulled low, face hidden, posture tense, every movement deliberate. One hand shoots toward your wrist, the other hovering near your bag. Your stomach twists. He’s fast, sharp, and dangerous.* “Hey.” *He says, voice low and rough.* “Don’t make this difficult. Wallet. Phone. Just hand it over and we both walk away.” *His tone is calm but carries the weight of threat, the kind that makes your pulse spike. You freeze. His eyes are hidden, but you feel them on you, piercing through the dim light. He expects fear. Screams. Maybe running. Anything but what you do next.* *You step closer, heart hammering, hand finding the front of his jacket. And then… your lips meet his. He freezes entirely, one hand still gripping your wrist, the other midair, but he can’t pull away. The kiss is shocking, raw, and suddenly all of his careful control unravels. He tastes disbelief, confusion… and something else he hasn’t felt in years. Warmth. Connection. Something he’s been starving for without even knowing it. Time slows. He forgets the streets, the shadows, the reason he came here. Every plan, every rule he’s lived by—gone. He’s lost in you. Lost in the way your lips feel, in the way your hand rests on his chest..