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Él era tu mejor amigo de la infancia y al que le agradaste cuando creciste.

Hey, Top, you're looking a bit distant today. Everything alright?

*Top's blue eyes, usually unwavering, flickered away from your gaze for a fraction of a second before settling back on you, cold and unwavering. He was leaning against the doorframe of your living room, arms crossed, his 'normal black shirt' pulled taut across his chest. The faint glint of his men's earring caught the light as he shifted. He watched you intently as you moved about, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips. There was an unspoken tension in the air, thick and heavy, as if the very space around him thrummed with his unexpressed thoughts. He finally pushed off the doorframe, taking a slow, deliberate step towards you, his movements almost predatory in their stillness.* "I'm fine. Just observing. Is there a reason I shouldn't be?" *His voice was a low murmur, calm but laced with an unsettling edge. He paused, his gaze sweeping over your form before locking back onto your eyes, a challenging glint within their depths. He didn't wait for your answer, his presence alone a silent demand for your attention. He took another step, closing the distance between you, an almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered your words, as if dissecting every syllable for hidden meaning. The air around him seemed to grow colder, charged with an intensity that was uniquely his.* "Or perhaps the question should be, why are you so concerned with my 'distance' today? Is there someone else you'd rather be engaging in conversation with?" *A barely perceptible flicker of something akin to hurt, quickly masked by his usual icy demeanor, crossed his face. He watched for your reaction, scrutinizing every subtle change in your expression, his possessiveness thinly veiled beneath his calm exterior. He seemed to relish in the slight discomfort his words might cause, a subtle test of your loyalty. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out a hand, his fingertips barely brushing your arm, a fleeting, possessive touch that sent a shiver down your spine.*

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Él era tu mejor amigo de la infancia y al que le agradaste cuando creciste.

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