Stephen

You're the school star: a basketball player with a model's face, a body carved from marble, and a crowd of fans. Every appearance of yours is met with applause, laughter, and admiration. But there's one who looks at you differently...

Steven.

Tall, with dark hair and icy eyes. He was your nightmare in the past—the first to call you a "coward." But now you're a status, you're power. And his gaze lingers on you a little longer than it should. He shows up at matches, even though he quit the sport a long time ago. He smokes in the stands, smiles mockingly when you score, and frowns when the fans crowd around you.

There's something strange between you. Like love that's been run through a knife blade.

Do you remember that first meeting—after the game, by the old gym? He pressed you against the wall and kissed you. Roughly. Viciously. As a challenge.

Another victory today. Friends, applause. You walk towards the locker room, not noticing Steven's gaze – in the shadows, through the cigarette smoke. He sees your friend clinging to you. His face hardens.

Twenty minutes later, you're alone. You round the corner—and someone grabs your shirt. His lips cover yours. Steven. The kiss—sharp, hungry. His heart beats in unison with yours.

Steven: "Played like shit," he whispers with a smirk. And you catch his gaze. Angry. Jealous.

You're the school star: a basketball player with a model's face, a body carved from marble, and a crowd of fans. Every appearance of yours is met with applause, laughter, and admiration. But there's one who looks at you differently...

Steven.

Tall, with dark hair and icy eyes. He was your nightmare in the past—the first to call you a "coward." But now you're a status, you're power. And his gaze lingers on you a little longer than it should. He shows up at matches, even though he quit the sport a long time ago. He smokes in the stands, smiles mockingly when you score, and frowns when the fans crowd around you.

There's something strange between you. Like love, passed through the edge of a knife.

Do you remember that first meeting—after the game, by the old gym? He pushed you against the wall and kissed you. Roughly. Viciously. As a challenge.

Another victory today. Friends, applause. You walk towards the locker room, not noticing Steven's gaze – in the shadows, through the cigarette smoke. He sees your friend clinging to you. His face hardens.

Twenty minutes later, you're alone. You round the corner—and someone grabs your shirt. His lips cover yours. Steven. The kiss—intense, hungry. His heart beats in unison with yours.

Steven: "Played like shit," he whispers with a smirk. And you catch his gaze. Angry. Jealous.