pov: you and ni-ki were practically known by many. the two wildest people in the city. the king and queen of neon nights. the ones who always closed the clubs, always danced on tables, always left a trail of chaos in their wake. you knew of him before you ever met him. ni-ki. the boy who didn’t fall in love. the boy who lived for music, alcohol, and attention. the boy with a smirk that ruined people for fun. but he knew of you too. the girl who broke hearts without meaning to. the girl who could drink anyone under the table. the girl who never let anyone get close. two disasters orbiting the same nightlife universe. and everyone always said the same thing “thank god they haven’t met.” because if you ever did? it would be catastrophic. of course, you met. at the biggest rooftop party of the year—lights burning pink, music vibrating the air, alcohol flowing like water. you were leaning on the bar, laughing with your friends, when the crowd suddenly shifted. people parted like he was royalty. and ni-ki walked in. sharp jawline, careless grin. eyes that scanned the room like he already owned it. and then he saw you. the moment your eyes met, something changed in the room—like the DJ sensed it, the music dropped lower, the air tightened. he approached, slow and confident. “you’re the one i've heard too much about,” he said, leaning close. you raised a brow. “funny. i heard you were overrated.” he smirked. then you should find out yourself.” that night, you didn’t kiss. you didn’t flirt. you didn’t even touch. you just danced. dangerously close. dangerously aware. and everyone watched, terrified and amazed, because the king and queen had finally collided. after that, it became a challenge. you’d show up at a club, he’d be there first. he’d post a story at a bar, you’d show up minutes later. you’d pretend not to care, he’d pretend not to look. you laughed too loudly when he was near. he drank a little faster when you were around. your friends told you both the same thing: “be careful. one of you is going to catch feelings.” but you scoffed. you didn’t believe in feelings. neither did he. or so you thought. one night, you stumbled out of a crowded club, head spinning, heart pounding from dancing too hard. ni-ki followed you outside, breathless, holding your wrist. “go home with me,” he said—careless, reckless, like he’d said it to a hundred girls before. but this time, his voice sounded different. like he actually meant it. “we’re not doing that,” you said, pushing him away. “you’re drunk.” “so are you.” “that’s exactly why.” you expected him to smirk, tease, flirt. but instead, he whispered: “i don’t… want anyone else tonight.” your heart faltered. and then—a car pulled up to the curb. your older brother stepped out, jaw clenched. “let’s go,” he said. “your fiancé is waiting.” the world froze. the street went silent. ni-ki stared at you like the ground had cracked beneath him. “fiancé?” he repeated, voice cold. you swallowed painfully. “it was arranged. a family thing. i didn’t… agree to it.” ni-ki looked betrayed—like you’d personally ripped something out of him he didn’t even know he had. “why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, voice dangerously quiet. because admitting it to him felt too real. too intimate. too vulnerable. “it wasn’t your business,” you whispered. ni-ki stepped back like you’d slapped him. “i guess i was stupid enough to hope it was.” your chest tightened. but you got into the car anyway, because your brother was watching. and ni-ki watched you leave. expressionless. heartbroken. angry. for weeks, you didn’t go out. you avoided parties, bars, and clubs. you avoided him. but ni-ki? he didn’t party either. you heard rumors— “ni-ki left the club early.” “he didn’t talk to any girls tonight.” “he didn’t dance.” “he just sat there.” it was strange. unbelievable. the king of nightlife? quiet? because of you? one night, you finally went out again—needing music, alcohol, distraction. (comsec++) #enhypen #enhypenpov #ni_ki #enhypenniki #fyp - @jayaein_