itsallaboutlixxie
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- Parts 14
The AC died on the hottest night of summer.
Felix, flushed and desperate, texted the only contact at the top of his chat: Hyunjin, the landlord's unfairly gorgeous son who lived one floor up.
Two days later, alone in their stuffy apartment, Felix snapped a mirror selfie, and typed:
"too slutty to send to a hookup or just slutty enough?"
He hit send.
Realized.
Deleted in 0.8 seconds.
Too late.
Across the hall, Hyunjin's phone auto-saved the photo before it vanished.
He stared at the screen, pulse hammering, then typed back with perfect calm:
"Wrong person? I didn't see anything."
He lied.
That night, in the locked studio of his penthouse, Hyunjin opened a fresh canvas and began sketching Felix exactly as he'd seen him.
Felix thought the message was gone.
Hyunjin already had it memorized (every freckle, every shadow, every filthy promise).
And he had no intention of letting the game end with one deleted photo.
_Sheen
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