And so am I.
The Friend He Hates
Taeyang
I smelled him before I saw him. That sickly-sweet fae cologne—summer citrus gone rotten, lilies left too long in a vase. It clung to the air around Yuna like it had a right.
It didn’t.
He didn’t.
Laughter—his—broke across the courtyard like cheap glass. Yuna walked beside him, shoulder brushing his, eyes bright the way they haven’t been around me in weeks. As if her mouth had remembered how to curve and chosen him as audience. I stood under a stone archway that has watched a thousand sins and ground my molars until I tasted iron.
“Who?” I asked, voice low enough to cut.
Seori slid into my shadow like she’d been born there, gaze already narrowed.
“Kaelen. Summer Court. Her childhood friend.”
Friend.The word rattled in my ribs like a loose nail. Kaelen leaned in—too close—and said something against the shell of her ear. She smiled.
I saw red so bright it went white at the edges.
It shouldn’t matter. I gave up my claim the day I called mercy by its prettier names and walked away.
Except the bond beneath my skin didn’t get the message. It surged—fierce, livid—as if insulted on our behalf. My mark burned, answering the soft glow at her collarbone like a challenge.
Yuna’s head turned, slow as a tide change. Our eyes locked. For a breath, everything she was pretending slipped—the smile faltered, the ache pressed against the glass between us and left a mark. Then Kaelen laughed again, and she looked away.
She walked away. Something in me cracked like glass in a kiln, quiet and irreversible.
Seori’s fingers brushed my forearm—once, warning and anchor.
“Not here,” she said, and the steel in her softness was the only reason the arch stayed standing.
I didn’t move. Not until they were gone. Not until her scent—wildflower and moon—was smothered by the summer-sweet rot he wore like a brag.
· · - ·?· - · ·
I found her later on the high balcony where the fae lights make liars of stars. They threaded her hair in patient constellations, as if the sky had decided to touch what it couldn’t keep.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I said, because I am better at accusations than apologies.
She didn’t turn.
“I’ve been busy.”
“With him?”
That got me her face—sharp, blazing, all the reasons I fell and the proof I never stopped.
“With duty,” she said, chin lifted. “And yes. Kaelen is helping. He’s a diplomat.”
“He’s a leech,” I snapped before I could dress it prettier. “And he wants you.”
Something flickered in her eyes—anger, hurt, hope sharpening itself just in case.
“And if he does?”
