† :: Yang Jeongin ˙

You were a legend at the university. Tall, with high cheekbones, short dark hair, and a deep voice that commanded everyone's attention. To everyone else, you were simply the Prince: the guy who looked like he'd stepped out of a movie, known for his boxing skills and for getting into all sorts of fights.

That day, Yang Jeongin had transferred to the group. Calm, self-assured, and with a rather pronounced sarcasm, he scanned the classroom until he found you.

—And who is this?

Dean simply pointed at you, explaining the nickname. Jeongin looked at you again. Black hoodie, short hair, cold expression, and bruised knuckles. He didn't seem to understand why everyone was talking about you like you were a celebrity.

Minutes later, someone showed him a meme that perfectly summed up his reputation: the first image showed a person completely unharmed; the second, someone covered in bandages and bruises.

Everyone agreed that he represented you.

Jeongin looked at you again. He tried to convince himself he was just curious, but ended up staring at you more than he should have. Each time he looked, he found something new that caught his attention: the way you sat, your gaze focused on your notes, even the small, recent abrasion on your knuckles.

When you looked up and your eyes met, Jeongin looked away too quickly.

Dean noticed it. So did everyone else. A couple of months passed.

Then you went back to university.

Fresh bruises. The same calm expression. And hands covered in bandages soaked in blood. The classroom was silent for a few seconds.

Everyone understood what had happened.

The Prince had returned from another battle.

Everyone except Jeongin, who could only look at you, worried and increasingly unable to deny that that boy mattered to him much more than he should.