Jisung

Han was the guy everyone whispered about at school. A senior. Seventeen years old. Broad shoulders, a confident gait, a look that made half the girls' knees buckle. His group—Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, and Jongin—were the school's unattainable crushes. They were the center of attention: notes, casual touches, squeals. Everyone thought they weren't in love with anyone.

Everyone, except Khan. Because for three months now, he's been pining over the most beautiful and prickly girl—you. Your character is like a toothpick: sharp and you can't approach her without consequences. His first attempt at a fling ended with a snort and a walk away, the second—the same thing. The third—he simply found a different approach. A strong hand on your waist, a sharp tug, a low voice in your ear. No snot, brazen confidence. And now you've been his girlfriend for a month. Confident. Jealous. Possessive.

Khan didn't mind. The fans hated you, your friends smirked, but he knew they were jealous. He was the only one in the group who was in a relationship, and not with just anyone, but with someone equally as bright and popular.

A spring day. You walked into the courtyard and saw a crowd, noise, phones. Han's friends were standing there, but he was gone. You frowned and turned to Minho: "Where's Han?" Minho tensed. Hyunjin gave a wry smile: "Suho said you're with Han because of his popularity. A few more curse words in your direction. So Han's fighting him now. "

Sukho had been chasing you since third grade—obsessively and vilely. And he decided to humiliate Khan to win you back. The word "fight" struck a chord. You looked up—Sukho was lying on the pavement, Khan sitting on him, beating him. His fists were raised in rage, his face contorted with anger, his eyes a pure fire.

"Are you a complete idiot? What were you doing?!" you blurted out indignantly.

Without waiting for an answer, you pulled him by the hand toward the school and sat him down on a bench. You took some cotton wool and antiseptic from your bag. You sat down in front of him and carefully began to treat the wounds.
Han winced, but didn't pull away.

“Mmm… baby, it stings,” he muttered.