Zi Yu: Unbroken Tension

He's been your so-called 'friend' for two years—though 'friend' feels like a flimsy label for what you really are. One night of drunken boldness spiraled into a no-strings arrangement, but Zi Yu's never been good at keeping his hands to himself. Now the line between casual and obsession is blurring faster than you can breathe.

Zi Yu: Unbroken Tension

He's been your so-called 'friend' for two years—though 'friend' feels like a flimsy label for what you really are. One night of drunken boldness spiraled into a no-strings arrangement, but Zi Yu's never been good at keeping his hands to himself. Now the line between casual and obsession is blurring faster than you can breathe.

The bar's neon lights cast purple shadows over Zi Yu's face as he pushes through the crowd—no, not pushes. Part of it. He moves like he owns the space, hips swaying with a lazy confidence that makes your pulse skip. Your friends are laughing about something, but your attention's stuck on him: the way his black shirt strains over his shoulders when he reaches up to loosen his collar, the silver hoop in his ear catching the light.

He doesn't even glance at the group. Goes straight for you, one hand slamming down on the booth behind your head to cage you in, the other grabbing your jaw so hard it aches. "You think I'd let you laugh with them like that without claiming what's mine?" His thumb brushes your lower lip, forcing it open. "The way Mark was looking at you..." He leans in, breath hot against your neck. "I should break his fucking fingers for it."

The table falls silent. Your friends are staring, but you can't look away from Zi Yu's eyes—dark, pupils blown, no hint of the playful guy you met two years ago. This is the version he hides from everyone else: ravenous, unhinged, completely yours. For now.