AUTHOR'S POV
Psychology building, same time — Professor Kim Taehyun's lecture hall
Taehyun's hand hovers over the whiteboard, mid-sentence, when his eyes flicker to the door of the auditorium across the hallway. Something shifts in him he doesn't know why yet but he knows something's off.
He adjusts the mic clipped to his shirt collar, continuing the lecture like nothing's wrong.
"Now what do we call the phenomenon when a subject redirects emotional impulses from a primary target to a secondary one?"
The students murmur, some answering eagerly.
But he's distracted. His eyes narrow.
Something about this moment feels wrong. A gnawing in his chest. Like instinct.
Then his eyes catch a faint reflection in the glass panel beside the door. It's you. You're sitting in your psychology class just across the corridor, diagonally visible through the half-open blinds.
You're slouched in your seat a little too tightly.
Your arms are crossed over your chest defensively.
And you're hiding your neck with your hair—your long, beautiful hair he loves playing with every morning. You keep adjusting it like it's a shield.
He knows that move.
He knows that look.
His jaw clenches subtly.
Who's making her uncomfortable?
He doesn't like this. At all.
Taehyun turns back to the board, schooling his expression, but his hand presses the marker harder.
"Defense mechanisms," he says, voice calm but firm, "often come as unconscious protection. You may not realize what you're reacting to, but your body always knows when it feels unsafe."
Some students glance at each other, nodding. A few chuckle softly, thinking he's just being dramatic again.
But his words are not random.
His mind is now far from the textbook.
His eyes keep drifting across the hallway. Watching you like a hawk from afar. Noticing the boy beside you lean slightly too close.
And the way you shrink inward—barely, but he notices.
He sees everything.
He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, gaze darkening.
"Class dismissed ten minutes early," he says casually, tapping the whiteboard.
The students blink.
"Professor?"
But he's already unplugging his mic.
Already walking.
Already planning.
Because no one makes you uncomfortable.
And if anyone dares make you hide your skin like it's shameful especially his skin on you?
They'll have a problem.
♡After The Class
The corridor was loud students flooding out, laughter bouncing off walls, footsteps clattering down the stairs. I kept my head low, clutching my bag tightly against my side. I didn't want attention. I just wanted to go home.
But before I could take another step
A hand caught my wrist.
Firm. Warm. Familiar.
Before I could react, I was pulled swiftly, effortlessly into an empty classroom.
The door shut behind us with a loud thud.
My breath caught in my throat.
He was standing there. Taehyun.
His jaw clenched, shirt sleeves rolled, a vein popping at his temple.
His tie was slightly loosened. His hair a bit messy from running his fingers through it too many times.
"Why were you hiding your neck?" he asked, voice low quiet enough to sound calm, but I knew better.
I blinked. "What?"
He stepped closer.
"I saw you," he muttered, gaze locked on me. "Tucking your hair in front like a curtain... shrinking into yourself..."
He looked down at my neck, at my collarbone exposed under the loose shirt, at the way my hand subconsciously lifted again to cover it.
"You never do that unless someone's looking at you the wrong way."
I swallowed.
"I didn't notice at first," I mumbled. "I forgot to wear my scarf, and there was this guy next to me, I think he was" I paused, sighing, "...staring."
That was all he needed.
His jaw tightened. He stepped even closer. The air shifted.
"Did he say anything?"
I shook my head quickly. "No. Just stared."
Taehyun took a deep breath through his nose, but it did nothing to soften his expression.
"I'll rearrange the entire seating chart if I have to," he muttered. "I don't care if he's in psychology, literature, or even fucking botany
he won't sit near you again."
I opened my mouth, but he wasn't finished.
"Don't hide it," he whispered suddenly, eyes dropping again to my collarbone, my neck. His fingers gently reached out and moved my hair aside.
I shivered.
"Don't cover what's mine like it's something shameful," he added, his tone quieter now, dangerously gentle.
I glared, face heating. "Yah! Yours? So now you're going around claiming me like some caveman?"
He gave me a smug smirk. "You bit me first, sunshine."
I gasped, punching his shoulder. "Out of fury!"
He laughed, low and amused, catching my wrist again before I could escape.
"You still chose me." His thumb grazed my knuckles. "Even if you say you don't love me yet. Even if you keep biting me out of 'fury'... you still choose me. Every time."
I hated how my heart skipped.
He leaned in slightly, brushing his lips beside my ear.
"And I'll keep making you choose me. Every damn day."
Evening.
The door hadn't even fully closed behind me when I threw my bag down and marched straight to the bedroom.
I was fuming.
He followed in calmly, like he hadn't just dragged me into a classroom in front of everyone and accused me of getting stared at on purpose. Like he hadn't looked two seconds away from murdering a psychology major.
"Don't follow me."
"Then don't run." His voice was maddeningly casual.
I spun around. "You're unbelievable."
He cocked his head, unbothered. "That's not what you said last night."
I grabbed a cushion and threw it at him.
He caught it with ease, still smirking. "You left a mark. Can't blame me for wanting to show it off."
"I didn't leave it on purpose!"
"You bit me," he said, stepping closer. "You sank your teeth in my shoulder, then my neck. You even growled"
I pressed both hands to my face. "I swear I'll choke you in your sleep."
He chuckled lowly, approaching with unhurried steps. "Can't sleep without you beside me."
Ugh. This man.
I turned to leave the room but he caught my wrist again. Always the wrist.
"Let go," I said, without turning.
"Don't wear baggy shirts like that outside." His tone dropped a note,possessive. "You forgot your scarf. And every guy with eyes looked."
"Not my problem."
"It's mine."
I turned sharply, eyes narrow. "You're the one flaunting hickeys! Are you proud I bit you? Do you want those girls on campus to think we're dating?"
He didn't blink. "We are married."
"Secretly."
"So?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came. Just my frustration.
His gaze softened slightly. "Are you… jealous?"
I scoffed. "You wish."
He stepped forward, hands sliding up my arms, fingertips brushing my sleeves. "You're cute when you lie."
I hated how my skin tingled.
"I'm not lying," I muttered.
"Then why were you glaring at the girls today?"
I scowled. "Because they giggle like idiots. They act like you're a K-drama lead who's gonna sweep them off their feet"
He leaned in, nose grazing mine. "I only sweep you off your feet."
"Shameless."
"You like it."
"I'm going to sleep on the couch."
"No, you're not."
He picked me up bridal style before I could resist, carrying me straight to bed. I kicked, wriggled, cursed at him
but he just dropped me on the mattress like a sack of laundry and trapped me with his body weight.
"Move," I hissed.
"Nope," he whispered, burying his face in my neck. "This belongs to me. So does this…" He traced the spot where his mark used to be.
My whole body turned to fire.
"You're such a flirt," I said breathlessly.
He laughed, voice muffled against my skin. "You're the only one I flirt with."
"And tease."
"And bite."
"Yah!"
He nuzzled deeper, arms pulling me close. "Jealous, possessive, fiery, introverted
God, I'm so in love with you, it hurts."
I froze.
He never said it like that before. Not that clearly.
"Say it again," I whispered.
He lifted his head, eyes locked on mine. No teasing. No games.
"I'm in love with you."
And just like that…
I forgot I was mad.