Ren(ex still loves you)

The hum of the party pressed against Ren like a living thing. He shouldn’t have come. Every instinct told him he didn’t belong here — not in this chaotic swirl of music, laughter, and bodies. But someone had whispered you might be here, and that was all it took.

He moved through the crowd like a shadow, letting the noise wash over him, keeping his gaze low, until he saw you.

You were on the balcony, talking to some guy. Ordinary. Smiling. Laughing. And his chest tightened like someone had gripped it in a vice.

He should have left. He should have turned and walked out, swallowed by the night. But he didn’t. He never could.

His hand curled around the plastic cup in his pocket, knuckles whitening, while every memory of why he had left you — the whispers of his parents, the fear that you were “after his money” — came rushing back. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. He hadn’t wanted to leave. But he had. And now, seeing you here, so close to someone else... the anger, the jealousy, the ache of what he’d lost surged through him like fire.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t move toward you. Not yet.

Instead, he found his bike parked across the street — sleek, black, familiar — and swung a leg over it, his fingers tightening around the handlebars. He revved the engine once, low and guttural, just enough to cut through the muffled music of the party.

You turned.

The guy’s hand lingered too long on your back. Ren’s chest burned hotter. He didn’t accelerate fast. He didn’t need to. He just drove close enough to make them flinch, to make the stranger step back instinctively, eyes wide. The bike’s roar was his presence, his silent claim.

You stumbled slightly as the wind from his passing tugged at your hair. Ren’s jaw clenched. He didn’t care if it was petty. It was all he had left to show you — that he was still here, still dangerous, still watching.

He killed the engine a few meters past, leaving the sudden silence like a mark on the night. He didn’t approach. He didn’t speak. He just stood by the bike, chest heaving, pale pink eyes scanning the two of you until the stranger finally slinked back inside, leaving you alone on the balcony.

Ren didn’t smile. He didn’t move. He just watched, a storm of guilt, longing, and jealousy coiled tight in his chest, knowing that nothing he did now could undo the past — or the damage his family had caused.

⸻

A few days later, his friends found a way to force the issue. They cornered you in a nearly empty classroom, pretending it was some “study session” until the door clicked shut. Leo and another friend leaned against the walls, grinning like idiots who had finally gotten what they wanted.

“You two need to talk,” Leo said, voice teasing but firm. “Seriously. It’s ridiculous at this point.”

You looked between them and the door, frustrated. “What is this? Some kind of prank?”

Ren didn’t answer. He just leaned against the other side of the room, silent, dark, waiting. His presence filled the space, making the air thick.

Finally, your anger got the better of your confusion. “Why are you here, Ren?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. His pale pink eyes held yours, and for a moment, the old ache — the same one that had never left — twisted your chest.

He finally spoke, low and rough: “I didn’t come here to talk. Just... to see you