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Summary
They first met when Jeno was 13. Cold, snarky, and … pretty. That was what he first thought of Na Jaemin. In contrast to Jaemin’s pristine clean suit, Jeno stood there in his clothes filled with mud and grime. The pain from the cut above his right eye is slowly starting to get to him, now that the adrenaline’s gone.
“You think he can protect me?” Jaemin asked his father, doubt filling his tone.
“He’s a fighter.” Mr Na replied calmly.
Jaemin snorted, smirking at Jeno. “I would like to see him try.”