LOVE BITES -Jeongcheol

19

The training room smelled of sweat and old leather, the air heavy with the sound of labored breathing and the occasional clash of metal against stone. The faint hum of tension hung in the room, mingling with the distinct tang of scorched fabric.

Soonyoung stood in the center of the room, his usual energy muted, replaced by a restless unease that showed in the way his fingers twitched at his sides. He rolled his shoulders, his damp shirt sticking to his back, and forced a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Alright," Jun said from his perch against the wall, his arms crossed casually but his tone sharp enough to cut through the room's lingering heat. "First rule of today's dragon training : don't set yourself on fire. Again."

"I didn't set myself on fire," Soonyoung shot back, his ears turning a telling shade of red. "It was just a sleeve. And it was one time."

Jun arched a brow, unimpressed. "One time too many. A sleeve that nearly burned down the supply room."

"Technically," Seungcheol added as he stepped into the center of the room, his presence commanding even without raising his voice, "it was the sleeve, the mat, and half the rack of sparring weapons."

Soonyoung groaned, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. "Okay, fine! But I don't remember anyone complaining about how nice and cozy it got in here after."

"Nice and cozy isn't the goal," Seungcheol said, folding his arms. "Control is."

"Control," Jun repeated, circling Soonyoung like a cat playing with its prey. "You know, the thing you don't have."

Soonyoung's jaw tightened, his forced grin slipping just a little. "I get it, okay? Can we just continue"

Seungcheol exchanged a glance with Jun before nodding. "Alright. Let's see what you've learned so far"

At first, it wasn't so bad. The jokes lingered in the air, the tension low as Soonyoung focused on channeling the energy, the heat. He felt it simmer beneath his skin, flickering at the edges of control but manageable. For a moment, he thought he might actually get through this without setting anything—or himself—on fire.

But then the pressure started to build.

It started as a prickle beneath his skin, then turned into a wave of heat surging upward, clawing at his chest. His heart pounded, the rhythm too fast, too loud, drowning out the world around him. The room seemed to close in, the walls pressing tighter with every shaky breath. Purple flickered at the edges of his vision, curling into shapes he couldn't control. It wasn't training anymore. It was a test he didn't know how to pass, a battle he was losing to himself.

"Hey," Jun's voice sliced through the fog, sharp and concerned. "Soonyoung. You good?"

"Y-yeah," Soonyoung stammered, his voice trembling, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Seungcheol said, stepping forward. "Hey, take a second. Breathe."

Soonyoung tried. He really tried. But the heat wouldn't settle, and his breaths came too fast, too shallow. He shook his head, wiping at the sweat dripping into his eyes. "I'm good. Let's just—let's keep going."

"No," Seungcheol said firmly, moving closer. His voice was calm now, his expression no longer that of a hunter or a trainer, but of someone who cared. "Soonyoung, stop. Look at me."

Soonyoung hesitated, his gaze darting toward Seungcheol. For a moment, he wanted to break. He wanted to let all the frustration, the fear, and the guilt pour out. But he couldn't.

"I said I'm fine," Soonyoung insisted, his voice tight.

"You're not," Seungcheol replied, unyielding. "And that's okay. You don't have to be."