Zane barely slept.
He lay on his back staring at the ceiling, the faint glow of the city filtering through the curtains. His body was exhausted after the match and the long night, yet his mind refused to rest.
Adrien.
Every time he closed his eyes, Adrien appeared.
The way he had been sitting on the kitchen counter. The loose white shirt sliding over his collarbones. His long legs dangling casually.
The soft chuckle when he tried to escape the moment.
Zane groaned quietly and dragged a pillow over his face.
"This is insane…"
But even muffled in fabric, the images kept replaying.
Adrien's eyes.
Adrien's voice.
Adrien's lips.
He turned onto his side and grabbed his phone from the nightstand.
The screen lit up.
Without hesitation, he opened Adrien's contact.
Then his social media.
Pictures filled the screen — modeling shoots, casual selfies, runway photos. Adrien in suits, Adrien in oversized sweaters, Adrien leaning casually against walls looking effortlessly perfect.
Zane zoomed in on one photo.
Adrien standing on a rooftop during sunset, wind pushing his hair back slightly, his frame slender but toned under a fitted black shirt.
Lean.
Not skinny.
Not overly muscular.
Just… perfect.
Zane swallowed.
His breathing slowly changed.
His hand slid lower beneath the blankets before he even fully realized what he was doing.
His thumb brushed the screen again, opening another photo — Adrien laughing during a backstage moment at a fashion show.
God.
Zane exhaled shakily.
"You're killing me…"
The warmth in his stomach intensified, pooling lower.
His hand moved slowly beneath the sheets as he stared at the glowing screen.
Adrien's face filled his vision.
The almost-kiss replayed in his mind.
The closeness.
The way Adrien hadn't pulled away immediately.
Zane's grip tightened unconsciously.
His breathing grew uneven.
He imagined leaning closer.
Actually kissing him.
Feeling those lips—
He shut his eyes briefly, jaw tightening.
"Shit…"
His body responded immediately to the fantasy.
His hand moved faster now, his other hand gripping the pillow beside his head as if grounding himself.
Adrien's photos kept sliding past his screen.
Adrien smiling.
Adrien walking a runway.
Adrien sitting with one leg crossed casually.
Zane's heart pounded harder.
He was gone.
Completely gone.
Obsessed.
By the time he finally finished, he collapsed back into the pillows breathing heavily, phone still clutched loosely in his hand.
Adrien's face still stared back at him from the screen.
Zane laughed weakly to himself.
"I'm doomed."
Eventually, exhaustion dragged him into sleep.
The next morning.
Adrien walked through the gates of the prestigious French academy, hands in his coat pockets as students buzzed around him.
The autumn air was crisp.
He had slept badly too.
Every time he drifted off, the kitchen scene replayed.
Zane leaning closer.
Zane whispering.
You're so beautiful.
Adrien shook the thought away as he entered the building.
"Adrien!"
Ji-Won's voice cut through the hallway.
She walked toward him quickly, arms crossed.
"You ignored my calls yesterday."
Adrien blinked. "What?"
"I called you like five times."
She held up her phone accusingly.
"You didn't answer."
Adrien sighed, already annoyed.
"I was sleeping."
Ji-Won narrowed her eyes. "At seven in the evening?"
"Yes."
"You're lying."
Adrien rolled his eyes and continued walking toward class.
"Believe whatever you want."
Ji-Won hurried beside him.
"Where were you really?"
"Sleeping."
"Adrien."
He stopped walking and looked at her flatly.
"I. Was. Sleeping."
She huffed but dropped it for the moment.
By lunchtime, Adrien sat at a long table with several friends in the courtyard.
The sun warmed the stone benches as conversations filled the space.
Adrien discreetly unlocked his phone beneath the table.
A message appeared instantly.
Zane: Good morning.
Adrien smiled faintly.
He typed quickly.
Adrien: You're up early.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Zane: Iwoke up an hour ago.
Adrien: Lazy fighter.
Zane: Hey I had a rough night.
Adrien's eyebrow lifted.
Adrien: Oh really?
Across the table someone asked him something in French.
"Adrien, tu viens à la soirée vendredi?"
(Adrien, are you coming to the party Friday?)
Adrien looked up briefly.
"Peut-être."
(Maybe.)
His attention returned to the phone.
Zane: Yeah. Couldn't sleep.
Adrien: Why?
Zane stared at that message for a long moment from his kitchen table.
Because of you.
He didn't type that.
Zane: Just thinking.
Adrien's lips curved slightly.
They kept texting through lunch.
Small things.
Random jokes.
Comments about training and school.
At some point Adrien barely noticed Ji-Won staring at him suspiciously.
"Who are you texting?" she finally asked.
Adrien locked his phone.
"No one."
Later that afternoon, Zane arrived at the gym.
The familiar smell of rubber mats and sweat filled the air.
He stretched his shoulders as he walked inside—
Then froze.
A familiar figure leaned casually against one of the lockers.
Evan.
The OnlyFans model.
His ex.
Zane groaned immediately.
"Who let you in here?"
Several fighters avoided eye contact.
Evan smiled lazily.
"Relax, babe."
"Don't call me that."
Evan walked closer.
"I just wanted to talk."
Zane rubbed his temple.
"I have training."
"Five minutes."
"No."
Evan blocked his path.
"Zane."
The gym had grown uncomfortably quiet.
Finally Zane sighed.
"What do you want?"
Evan leaned casually against a bench.
"You've been ignoring me."
"Because we broke up."
"That doesn't mean we can't still have fun."
Zane crossed his arms.
"No."
Evan studied him carefully.
"Is it because of that model?"
Zane stiffened slightly.
"What model?"
"The one from the commercials."
Adrien.
Zane forced his expression neutral.
"You're imagining things."
Evan smirked.
"Sure."
He leaned closer.
"Come out with me tonight. There's a bar downtown."
"No."
"Why not?"
Zane's patience snapped.
"Because I don't want to."
Silence fell between them.
Then Zane narrowed his eyes.
"Did you send those messages?"
Evan blinked.
"What messages?"
"The threats."
"What threats?"
"The ones with the photos of us at the club."
Evan's expression shifted from confusion to amusement.
"Oh that."
"You did it?"
"No."
Zane studied his face carefully.
Evan seemed genuinely confused.
"I didn't send anything," he said calmly. "But those pictures exist."
Zane's stomach twisted.
Evan shrugged.
"Someone must have them."
Zane felt a headache building behind his eyes.
He turned away.
"I'm leaving."
Evan called after him.
"You're no fun anymore!"
Zane ignored him and walked out of the gym.
He needed air.
On his drive home, Zane noticed a crowd gathered near a luxury hotel.
Flashes of cameras lit the sidewalk.
Curious, he slowed his car.
Then he saw who stood in the center.
Dante Moreau.
Surrounded by paparazzi.
Zane sighed.
Of course.
But as he stepped out of the car, the photographers immediately noticed him.
Cameras swung toward him instantly.
"Zane! Over here!"
"Zane look this way!"
Microphones appeared in front of his face.
Questions flew rapidly.
"Are you ready for the rematch?"
"Any comments about Dante's last victory?"
"Do you still believe you can beat him?"
Zane blinked under the sudden attention.
Across from him, Dante watched with amusement.
The crowd waited.
Expecting conflict.
Expecting insults.
Expecting drama.
Instead, Zane just stood there.
Calm.
Dante suddenly stepped forward.
To everyone's surprise—including Zane's—he smiled.
"Got a phone?"
Zane frowned.
"What?"
"Your number."
The paparazzi gasped slightly.
Zane stared at him.
"Why?"
Dante leaned closer and took the phone from Zane's hand before he could react.
He typed quickly and returned it.
"Now I have it."
Zane blinked.
"What the hell—"
Dante leaned near his ear.
His voice dropped low enough that only Zane could hear.
"Tell Adrien I said hi."
Zane's blood instantly boiled.
Dante's smirk widened.
"And tell him," he added quietly, "he looks even better out of those boxers."
Zane's fists clenched immediately.
For a split second he almost swung.
Cameras flashed rapidly.
The paparazzi sensed tension and leaned forward eagerly.
Dante simply stepped back, still smiling.
Zane forced himself to breathe.
Not here.
Not now.
He turned sharply, walked back to his car, and slammed the door.
Cameras continued flashing as he drove away.
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
His phone buzzed in the passenger seat.
A new message.
From Dante.
Dante: Nice seeing you today.
Zane stared at it for a moment.
Then another message appeared.
From Adrien.
Adrien: What are you doing?
Zane exhaled slowly.
His anger softened slightly.
He picked up the phone.
Zane: Driving home.
And suddenly the day didn't feel quite as unbearable anymore.