Work Text:
Can't you see
That I'm the one
Who understands you?
Been here all along
So, why can't you see
You belong with me
Jeongguk is halfway into his lazy Saturday hoodie, sleeves bunched at his forearms, the faint scent of clean laundry still clinging to the fabric. The washing is done, folded and forgotten, his hair tied back loosely as he pads into the kitchen. Hunger gnaws at him—sharp, impatient—and he’s already planning something quick and salty.
He’s just opened the cabinet when his phone buzzes on the counter.
Probably the group chat, he thinks. Someone complaining. Someone sending memes. He’ll check it later.
The cabinet door creaks as he reaches for a packet of noodles. His phone pings again.
Jeongguk sighs, the sound heavy, and reaches for it. His brows knit together when he sees an unfamiliar number on the screen. He usually ignores unknown messages—most of them are spam—but this time, without really thinking, he taps it open.
Jeongguk blinks.
Once. Twice.
“What the hell…?” he mutters under his breath.
Jump off a cliff?
His first instinct is disbelief. A prank, maybe. Someone messing with him. One of his friends, bored and dramatic. He opens the group chat, scrolling through their usual chaos—inside jokes, half-finished conversations.
He exits the chat and stares back at the message. His thumb hovers over the screen. Should he reply? Ask if they’re okay? If this is serious?
But there are messages like this all the time. Spam meant to scare people. Emotional bait. He shouldn’t bother.
He locks the screen and sets the phone down, a little harder than necessary.
The cabinet is still open, noodles stacked in messy rows. He stares at them, appetite suddenly gone, chest tight for reasons he refuses to name.
A beat passes.
Then another.
“Argh,” Jeongguk groans, snatching his phone back up, heart pounding far too loudly in his ears.
No reply.
Jeongguk’s chest tightens almost immediately. Minutes stretch, heavy and unbearable, and his thoughts spiral faster than he can stop them. What if they already jumped? What if this was real and he ignored it for too long?
The image settles in his mind uninvited, sharp and cruel.
God. This is going to haunt him for the rest of his life.
His fingers move again, frantic now.
“Damn it,” Jeongguk groans, running a hand through his tied-back hair, pacing once across the kitchen.
Then his phone lights up.
He freezes.
A message appears.
Jeongguk stares at the screen.
Heat creeps up his neck, settling stubbornly beneath his ears. “Babe,” he repeats under his breath, incredulous. Definitely a flirt. Probably harmless. Probably bored.
He scoffs softly, shakes his head, and locks the phone.
Whatever that was, it’s over.
He turns back to the cabinet, grabs a packet of noodles, and finally starts making something for himself—ignoring the faint, strange warmth still lingering in his chest.
Jeongguk stares at the screen for a moment longer than necessary.
There’s a smile tugging at his lips—small, unguarded. Against his better judgment, he admits it quietly to himself: the guy is interesting. Annoying, sure. Flirty, definitely. But interesting in a way that makes the minutes pass faster than they should.
He locks his phone and leans back in his chair, the hum of the university café surrounding him. The air smells like burnt coffee and pastries that have been sitting too long in glass cases. He’s waiting for his friends—swimming practice later, competition nerves already simmering beneath his skin.
He spots them across the room and lifts a hand, waving them over.
“The new professor sucks,” Jimin announces immediately, dropping into the chair with theatrical exhaustion.
“My literature class was actually fun,” Namjoon counters, setting his bag down carefully.
“Ew,” Jimin replies, rolling his eyes. “Don’t say things like that.”
Yoongi takes the seat beside Jeongguk, lips pressed into a thin line, expression unreadable as ever.
“Guys,” Jeongguk cuts in, leaning forward. “Forget classes. Do you remember what date is tomorrow?”
Jimin snorts. “Why, you don’t have a calendar on your phone?”
Jeongguk swats at the back of his head.
“Ouch!” Jimin yelps, dramatically offended.
“I have a swimming competition tomorrow, you brick head,” Jeongguk snaps back.
Namjoon’s brows lift. “Don’t tell me it’s with him.”
Jeongguk smirks, unapologetic.
“Oh god,” Yoongi sighs, already sounding tired. “You didn’t forget the bet, did you?”
“Of course not,” Jeongguk says. “You’re all invited. Jin-hyung too. I have to win this.”
“More like you have to make Kim Taehyung lose,” Jimin adds, grinning.
Jeongguk crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, jaw tight.
“He deserves to lose,” he says flatly. “The swimming club was perfectly fine until he joined last month. I have to make him lose—so he leaves.”
Namjoon snorts. “You call the angel, and he shows up.”
Jeongguk follows Namjoon’s gaze toward the café entrance.
And there he is.
Kim Taehyung.
His biggest enemy. Or what he thought of him.
Jeongguk hates him. He’s certain of it. Taehyung gets under his skin like no one else—walking around like he owns the place, always late to classes, careless, irresponsible. Exactly the kind of person Jeongguk doesn’t want anywhere near the swimming club. But Taehyung had joined anyway, smile too easy, confidence infuriatingly effortless.
Jeongguk couldn’t reject him outright.
So he would reject him properly—by winning.
Taehyung strolls in with his friends, and immediately, heads turn. Whispers ripple through the café. A couple of girls actually squeal.
Jeongguk scoffs, rolling his eyes, even as his gaze betrays him—tracking the way Taehyung moves, relaxed and unbothered, like the world bends slightly in his favor. It annoys him. It shouldn’t be attractive.
But it is.
Taehyung passes their table, and Jeongguk pointedly looks anywhere else—the wall, the floor, his coffee cup.
Too late.
“Hi,” Taehyung says brightly, stopping just long enough to be irritating.
“Hi,” Jimin and Namjoon reply in unison.
Jeongguk shoots them a glare sharp enough to cut glass. They both wince and offer awkward smiles.
“Why is this princess always out hunting?” Taehyung adds, voice teasing, eyes unmistakably amused.
Jimin muffles a laugh.
Jeongguk looks up, fury sparking—but it stumbles when their eyes meet. Taehyung’s smirk is lazy, lips curved just enough to be infuriating. Jeongguk hates that his chest tightens in response.
“What’s your problem?” Jeongguk snaps.
Taehyung’s smirk deepens.
Jeongguk’s jaw clenches. “I’ll wipe that smirk off your face tomorrow.”
Taehyung licks his lips slowly, deliberately, and dips into a mock bow. “ as you want Princess. ”
Then he walks away with his friends, laughter trailing behind him.
Jeongguk glares at his back, heart pounding far too hard for someone he claims to hate.
The last message lights up Jeongguk’s screen.
He stares at it longer than he should.
There’s a strange flutter in his chest, sudden and uninvited, like his heart has recognized something his mind hasn’t caught up to yet. The stranger’s words settle easily, comfortably, as if they belong there. Talking to him feels natural—too natural for someone he doesn’t even know.
Weirdly enough, it feels like talking to someone he’s known for a long time.
Jeongguk exhales softly, thumb hovering before he finally saves the number. He hesitates only a second before typing in a name—something vague, harmless.
"Why is he the copy of Taehyung?", Jeongguk mutterred to himself, half chuckling.
He locks his phone, unaware of the truth sitting quietly on the other end of the screen.
“Why are you guys here?” Jeongguk asks, closing his locker with more force than necessary.
The changing room smells like chlorine and metal, the air buzzing with pre-competition energy. In thirty minutes, he’ll be walking out to the pool—eyes on him, expectations high.
“Just to say best of luck!” Jimin announces cheerfully.
Yoongi nods beside him, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.
“Oh god,” Namjoon pants, bursting into the room a moment later.
Jeongguk narrows his eyes. “Why are you out of breath?”
“Jin-hyung is here,” Namjoon says, horror clear in his voice. “I was going to sit in the audience, but I saw him and ran. He definitely hasn’t forgiven me yet.”
“You’re dead today for sure,” Jimin laughs.
“There’s going to be one competition in pool,” Yoongi adds thoughtfully, “and another one in the audience. I should buy popcorn.”
“Guys,” Jeongguk mutters, rubbing his palms together. “I am literally dying here with anxiety.”
Jimin looks at him, unimpressed. “Who told you to place a bet in the first place?”
Jeongguk shoots him a glare. “I can’t lose my club to that menace.”
Namjoon tilts his head. “He’s not that bad, Jeongguk.”
Jeongguk’s glare sharpens. “That’s because he talks politely with all of you. With me, he’s always messing around. I study with him—I know him well.”
His words are firm, convinced.
“Okay,” Yoongi says finally, clapping his hands once. “We should go. Relax. This isn’t a big deal.”
Jimin snorts. “Well… because of Taehyung, the spectators are going to be insane. And don’t forget—he won a medal back in high school.” He tilts his head. “So yeah. It is a big deal.”
“I’ve won plenty of medals too,” Jeongguk snaps.
“Then relax,” Yoongi replies simply.
“Alright, we’re leaving,” Jimin announces. “Good luck, champ.”
They wave at him one by one before filing out, their voices fading down the corridor.
Jeongguk exhales slowly, tension settling deep in his shoulders. He opens his locker, pulling out his swimsuit and goggles, forcing himself to focus. Stretch. Breathe. This is just another competition.
The door to the changing room creaks open.
Jeongguk glances up—
And freezes.
Taehyung steps inside like he belongs there, unhurried, confident, moving toward his locker as if the room isn’t already charged with something dangerous. He grabs his gear casually, completely unbothered.
Jeongguk rolls his eyes and stretches his arms over his head, pointedly ignoring him.
“All this effort just to make me lose?” Taehyung asks, voice amused.
Jeongguk doesn’t look at him. “Effort for my club.”
Taehyung chuckles, low and infuriating. “There are plenty of swimmers in your club. Why won’t you let me stay?”
Jeongguk finally turns to face him. “Because I don’t want an irresponsible person in something I actually cherish.”
Taehyung raises a brow, crossing his arms. “And how exactly do you know I’m irresponsible?”
Jeongguk’s glare sharpens. “You’re always late to class. You mess around during group assignments. You try to steal answers during exams.” His voice hardens. “That’s irresponsibility.”
Taehyung studies him for a moment, expression unreadable.
Then he smirks.
“You pay a lot of attention to me.”
Jeongguk bristles. “Because you do all of that in front of me. You put yourself in my group on purpose. You mess up assignments just to rile me up—because you know I hate it.”
Taehyung steps closer.
Jeongguk’s breath stutters despite himself, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t retreat.
Taehyung stops right in front of him, close enough that Jeongguk can smell chlorine and something warmer underneath. “Why do you think I do it to rile you up?” he asks softly. “There are plenty of students in our group.”
His eyes linger, sharp and intent.
“Maybe,” Taehyung adds, “I’m just trying to get their attention. Not yours.”
Jeongguk’s heart betrays him—thudding hard, uneven—while his mind scrambles to ignore the heat crawling under his skin.
He hates him.
He’s sure of it.
And yet, standing this close, he can’t tell why it suddenly feels like a lie.
Jeongguk gulps, heat rushing up his face despite himself.
Taehyung watches it happen.
Then he turns away, walking back toward his locker, busying himself with his things like he hasn’t just shaken Jeongguk to the core.
Jeongguk’s eyes follow him without permission.
“Whose attention are you trying to get?” Jeongguk asks, the words slipping out before he can stop them.
Taehyung doesn’t turn right away. He fumbles with his bag, takes his time—then finally looks back over his shoulder.
The smirk on his face is familiar, but there’s something different beneath it now. Something softer. Something deliberate.
“Why, princess?” Taehyung asks lightly. “Are you jealous?”
Jeongguk’s jaw clenches, embarrassment flaring into anger. “Fuck you,” he snaps, spinning on his heel and storming out of the room.
Behind him, Taehyung watches him go—eyes lingering far longer than necessary, smile fading into something quieter.
Something real.
The hall erupts in cheers as the competitors gather around the pool.
Jeongguk steps onto the springboard, muscles tense, adrenaline rushing through him. Taehyung takes his place beside him, close enough that Jeongguk can feel his presence like a second heartbeat.
“Jeongguk!” Jimin shouts, waving wildly from the stands.
Jeongguk turns, smiling despite himself. He exhales, grounding himself—and then, inevitably, his gaze shifts to Taehyung.
Taehyung is smiling too, but not at the crowd.
Jeongguk follows his line of sight.
Taehyung’s friends stand clustered together, loud and animated—but among them is someone unfamiliar. A boy Jeongguk has never seen on campus before. He’s waving enthusiastically, face bright.
Taehyung lifts a hand in response, smiling back.
The crowd goes wild.
Jeongguk scoffs. “Attention seeker,” he mutters.
Taehyung hears him.
He turns his head, eyes finding Jeongguk instantly—like they always do.
Jeongguk glares at him and looks away quickly, adjusting his goggles with more force than necessary.
“I don’t get one thing, princess,” Taehyung says quietly.
Jeongguk stiffens.
“You don’t want me to look at you,” Taehyung continues, voice low, almost thoughtful. He pauses, just long enough to matter. “But you don’t want me to look at anyone else either.”
Jeongguk freezes.
Before he can respond—before he can even process it—Taehyung steps forward, slipping smoothly into position at the edge of the board.
Jeongguk remains still for half a second too long, Taehyung’s words echoing relentlessly in his head.
“Jeongguk, on position,” the instructor calls.
He blinks, snapping back to the present, moving into place. His jaw tightens as his mind spirals.
Why would Taehyung say that?
Why would it sound like—
No. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t.
Jeongguk lowers himself into position, staring at the water ahead of him.
Beside him, Taehyung is calm—focused—but his eyes flick sideways once, just once, landing on Jeongguk with something unmistakably tender before the whistle blows.
The whistle blows.
Taehyung dives instantly—clean, sharp, effortless.
Jeongguk’s eyes widen.
He jumps a heartbeat too late.
The crowd erupts, voices crashing into one another as names are shouted from every direction. Jeongguk hits the water hard, the cold swallowing him whole. He forces the distraction away, muscles tightening as he pushes forward.
Focus.
He can’t lose.
He won’t lose.
His arms cut through the water faster, stronger, every stroke fueled by stubborn resolve. His jaw clenches, teeth grinding as his lungs burn.
Taehyung can’t win.
He pushes harder—
And pain explodes through his leg.
Jeongguk’s eyes squeeze shut.
Fuck.
The cramp hits viciously, locking his muscles without warning. His kick falters, legs refusing to move the way they should. Panic flares hot and sharp as his momentum dies.
No. No, no, no—
His body tilts downward, dragged by the water’s weight. The world blurs, sound muffled and distant, replaced by the pounding of his own heart.
Above the pool, Yoongi is already half out of his seat. “What is he doing?” he demands, dread creeping into his voice.
“There’s something wrong,” Jin says, standing now.
Jimin doesn’t hesitate. He shouts toward the instructor, voice raw and urgent, but it gets swallowed by the noise, by the cheering that hasn’t realized yet that something is wrong.
They rush toward the edge of the pool, yelling, hands waving wildly.
Then—
The crowd gasps.
A sharp, collective sound.
Someone shouts, horrified, “Look—Taehyung! What is he doing?!”
Everyone turns back toward the pool.
And there—cutting cleanly through the water, abandoning his lane without hesitation—is Kim Taehyung, swimming straight toward Jeongguk.
Not toward the finish line.
Toward him.
Taehyung veers out of his lane without hesitation.
In the next moment, he dives under, water rushing past him as he reaches Jeongguk. His arm hooks firmly around Jeongguk’s waist, strong and steady, pulling him upward with practiced ease.
Jeongguk breaks the surface with a sharp gasp, sucking in air like it’s the first breath he’s taken in his life. His breathing is shallow, uneven. Taehyung doesn’t let go, keeping him anchored, close.
With swift fingers, Taehyung removes Jeongguk’s goggles, tossing them aside without a second thought.
Jeongguk clutches at Taehyung’s shoulder, fingers digging in as pain lances through his leg. His eyes scrunch shut, a broken sound slipping past his lips.
“Hey—are you okay?” Taehyung asks, voice tight, threaded with unmistakable worry.
Jeongguk nods weakly, still fighting for breath. “My leg,” he whispers. “It’s a cramp.”
Taehyung doesn’t respond with words. He simply moves—guiding Jeongguk toward the edge of the pool, keeping him upright, shielding him almost instinctively.
The instructor is there in seconds, helping them out of the water.
Jeongguk’s eyes fall shut as soon as he’s seated, exhaustion crashing over him.
“Towel!” Taehyung shouts.
Someone hands one over immediately. Taehyung drapes it around Jeongguk’s shoulders, careful, grounding.
“Which leg?” he asks, already kneeling.
“Left,” Jeongguk breathes, clutching at it. “It… it never happens.”
Jimin and the others rush over, relief clear on their faces, breaths shaky.
Taehyung’s hands close around Jeongguk’s calf, firm but gentle. He starts massaging the muscle, thumbs working methodically, coaxing the tension out. His movements are steady, focused—like nothing else in the world exists right now.
Jeongguk bites down on his lip as the pain slowly eases, a shaky breath leaving him.
And then he looks up at taehyung.
Really looks.
Taehyung’s brows are furrowed, jaw tight with concern. His attention is wholly on Jeongguk, touch careful, protective. There’s no teasing smirk. No mockery. Just quiet fear and something softer beneath it.
Jeongguk’s heart stutters.
For a brief, dangerous moment, the noise of the pool fades away—the crowd, the chaos, the competition—all of it dissolving until it’s just the two of them.
He gulps, throat suddenly dry, eyes unable to look away.
Something shifts inside him.
Taehyung looked up at him. For a moment, they just stared at each other.
“Did it go or not?” Taehyung asked.
Jeongguk bit down his words.
“It’s gone,” he whispered, eyes darting anywhere but Taehyung. Embarrassment clung to him like a second skin.
Taehyung released his leg and sat there for a moment. Jimin and Yoongi exchanged a glance, silently noting the tension.
Taehyung’s friends rushed over, and the pool area was being cleared by the instructors.
Jeongguk kept his gaze on the ground—until a voice called out.
“Tae, you okay?”
He looked up to see the same boy Taehyung had been smiling at earlier.
“Tae…?” Jeongguk’s heart skipped. A nickname?
Taehyung stood, turning to him as the boy placed a hand gently on his shoulder.
“I’m okay, hyung,” Taehyung smiled softly.
“I got worried for you,” the boy said.
Jeongguk’s jaw tensed. He stood abruptly, and Jimin grabbed his arm.
“Hey, slowly,” Jimin cautioned.
“I’m not a child!” Jeongguk almost yelled, jerking his arm free.
A hush fell over everyone.
Taehyung turned toward him, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Calm down, princess,” he said, voice low and playful.
Jeongguk clenched his jaw. He was already mortified from the swimming incident, and now his heart was betraying him with these forbidden feelings. Why did it have to be Taehyung who pulled him out of the pool?
He didn’t say anything and walked out of there. On the way to the dressing room, he told his friends they should leave.
He sank onto the bench, towel draped over his shoulders. Slowly, he removed it, staring at the fabric as his thoughts spiraled out of control.
This was the part he hated the most—Taehyung. The real reason for his frustration wasn’t just the swimming mishap. It was Taehyung, because he always messed with both his heart and his mind. That’s why Jeongguk didn’t want him near—not in the club, not anywhere.
He clutched the towel tightly, then, in a surge of frustration, threw it toward the door. At the same moment, the door opened, and the towel landed at Taehyung’s feet.
Jeongguk’s jaw clenched, and he quickly looked away.
Taehyung crouched and picked up the towel, then closed the door behind him. He walked inside, stopping a few feet away from Jeongguk.
“I deserve a thank you at least,” Taehyung said, his voice soft but firm.
Jeongguk looked up, one hand gripping the edge of the bench.
“Thank… you,” he said, each syllable dripping with mockery.
Taehyung chuckled lightly, though there was no teasing in his tone.
“Are you angry because of the competition?”
Jeongguk’s jaw tightened further.
“If you’re worried that much, then I’ve decided not to join the club,” Taehyung continued. His words weren’t playful—they were sincere—but to Jeongguk, they felt almost like teasing.
Jeongguk’s fury surged. He stood abruptly and walked straight toward Taehyung.
“Why?” he demanded. “So after humiliating me in front of everyone, you’ll just back off like nothing happened?”
Taehyung glanced around the empty room, then back at Jeongguk.
“When did I humiliate you, Jungkook? I just—”
“You just what?” Jeongguk snapped, his voice rising and startling even Taehyung. “You mess with me one moment and act polite the next? You think I don’t see it?”
He scoffed bitterly.
“You can charm everyone else. Not me. I know exactly why you saved me—because it keeps your image clean. The great Kim Taehyung.”
Taehyung stiffened.
“If it were just us,” Jeongguk continued, voice shaking with anger, “you’d have let me choke to death rather than help me.”
The words barely finished leaving his mouth when Taehyung grabbed him. Jeongguk gasped as he was pushed back, his shoulders hitting the wall, Taehyung braced in front of him.
Jeongguk’s eyes widened.
“What the hell—?”
He shoved at Taehyung’s chest, but Taehyung caught his shoulders, grip tightening—not rough, but unyielding.
“Don’t,” Taehyung said sharply. His voice was low now, stripped of teasing, stripped of smiles.
His jaw was clenched, eyes burning—not with anger alone, but something wounded and desperate.
“You have no idea,” Taehyung continued, breath uneven, “what I would or wouldn’t do for you.”
The room fell silent, thick with unsaid things, Jeongguk’s heart pounding violently against his ribs as Taehyung stood too close—too real—to ignore anymore.
“One thing you should put in that tiny mind of yours, Jeon Jeongguk,” Taehyung’s voice was low, deliberate. The sound sent shivers down Jungkook’s spine.
“It’s you who hates me,” he said with finality. “Don’t make assumptions about my side of things.”
Jeongguk froze, staring at him. Taehyung’s face was too close, too real. He could feel the warmth of Taehyung’s breath brushing against his skin, and his heart skipped.
He swallowed hard, chest tightening, as his pulse thundered in his ears. His stomach fluttered violently when he felt Taehyung’s gaze shift—down to his lips, then back up to his eyes.
For a moment, time seemed to hold its breath. Then Taehyung stepped back, giving him space, though the tension lingered.
Jeongguk stayed frozen, unable to move, his mind spinning.
Taehyung turned toward his cupboard. Jeongguk watched as he gathered his things, moving with effortless grace. When he walked back toward him, the air seemed to thrum with unspoken words, each step Taehyung took making Jeongguk’s heart race faster.
“I’m taking all my belongings,” Taehyung said, his voice steady. “I was going to tell you anyway… because yesterday I already made up my mind not to join. I just wanted to compete with you.” His tone softened toward the end, almost gentle, and Jeongguk’s heart thumped painfully in his chest.
Jeongguk blinked. Words refused to form in his mouth.
Taehyung turned toward the door, then paused just before leaving.
“I’m not going to tease you from now on. Don’t worry… I’ll try to stay a thousand feet away from you,” he added softly, and then he was gone, the door closing behind him.
Jeongguk stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door, his chest tight, mind spinning, and heart pounding in the sudden, deafening silence.
Jeongguk stared at his phone, his friends’ messages fading into the background as his mind went straight back to Taehyung.
Don’t worry… I’ll try to stay a thousand feet away from you.
Without thinking, his lips curved into a small pout.
He’ll tease me for sure. He can’t just leave me alone… he has to rile me up, he thought.
But then doubt crept in. Taehyung looks done with me this time. What if he… doesn’t come back?
But isn’t that what I wanted? Jeongguk scolded himself.
Should he reach out? Should he try?
Lost in his thoughts, his phone buzzed again. He grabbed it, frowning.
How does he know about my cramps? And… what’s with the typing? Is he drunk?
He quickly called the number. When it rang, he held his breath.
“Hello?” a strange voice answered.
“Hello… Taehyung?” Jeongguk’s heart hammered in his chest.
“Oh… the person whose phone was wasted,” the voice replied casually.
“Can you… please tell me the address? I can pick him up,” Jeongguk asked, urgency in his voice.
“Oh, yes,” the person said, giving the address.
“Can you please stay with him?” Jeongguk added.
“Okay,” came the reply.
Jeongguk grabbed his jacket and stormed out of his apartment.
He hopped into a taxi, biting his lip, trying to calm his racing heart. I’ll help him, just like he helped me today… then we’ll be equal, he thought, guilt tugging at him for earlier.
But another thought hit him, unbidden. Why did he text me as a stranger? And surprisingly… he wasn’t angry about it.
“Can you please hurry up a bit?” he said to the driver, voice tight with urgency.
The taxi screeched to a stop. Jeongguk threw the fare to the driver and bolted toward the address he had been given.
A man stood outside, waving. Jeongguk didn’t hesitate—he ran straight to him.
“Your friend is inside,” the man said quickly. “I’m in a hurry. Here, take his phone.”
Jeongguk snatched the phone and bowed deeply, murmuring his thanks before darting inside.
The restaurant was quiet, the hum of late diners fading into the background. His eyes scanned the room, landing on a familiar figure hunched over a table, head resting on folded arms.
Jeongguk drew a shaky breath, his chest tightening. Each step toward him felt like crossing a chasm. He reached the table and gently bowed to the owner, silently signaling that he was with Taehyung.
Sliding into the seat across from him, Jungkook placed the phone on the table, careful not to startle him.
“Get up,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with unspoken emotion.
For a long moment, there was only silence. Jeongguk’s eyes searched Taehyung’s, desperate to see any sign—any flicker of recognition, relief, or trust.
Finally, Taehyung lifted his head, hair falling messily over his forehead. His eyes met Jeongguk’s, glossy, vulnerable, and unguarded.
Jeongguk’s hand twitched, wanting to reach out but unsure if it would be welcome. His chest ached with guilt, worry, and something far more dangerous—a heart pounding awareness of just how close he wanted to be to this boy in front of him.
Taehyung stirred and slowly looked up at him.
His cheeks were flushed, nose tinged red, and his eyes glossy. Despite everything, he smiled—a small, tentative curve that made Jeongguk’s heart skip a beat.
“Princess…” Taehyung mumbled, resting his chin on his tilted hand, his head angled toward Jeongguk as if searching for permission in his gaze.
Carefully, he reached into his pocket and placed something on the table. Jeongguk looked down and saw the medicine. His chest tightened.
“T-this is for you,” Taehyung said softly, voice barely audible.
Jeongguk stared, gulping. “Messages… you knew it was me?”
Taehyung averted his gaze, looking anywhere but Jeongguk.
“I… gave you another reason to hate me?” he mumbled, voice small and almost defeated.
Jeongguk’s heart clenched at the sight of him like this—hurt, hesitant, vulnerable. Did I really cross the line this time? he wondered. But then he remembered: Taehyung always teased him, and he always fought back. Wasn’t that their pattern?
“Why… why didn’t you tell me it was you?” Jeongguk asked, voice low, tinged with both frustration and something softer, something more tender.
Taehyung hesitated, blinking rapidly, before finally meeting his gaze, eyes glimmering with a mixture of guilt and something unspoken.
“You wouldn’t talk to me on campus,” Taehyung said, pouting. “If I told you it was me, you would have blocked me. I thought… if I messaged you, maybe you’d talk to me, thinking it wasn’t me.”
Jeongguk blinked, processing. “Why… why did you want to talk to me?”
Taehyung hesitated, staring down at his fidgeting fingers. His voice was soft, almost shy.
“Because… I like it,” he admitted. Then, quieter, “I like… Jeongguk.”
Jeongguk’s heart skipped a beat.
“Huh?” His eyes widened in disbelief. “You… like me?”
Taehyung nodded, cheeks flushed, lips pouting.
“A lot,” he whispered. “You’re… so pretty.” His gaze flicked up, and Jeongguk caught the glimmer of tears in his eyes. “Pretty… like stars.”
Jeongguk’s chest tightened, and he looked away, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
Taehyung slumped back against the table, seemingly deflated but still holding a quiet, fragile hope.
Jeongguk stared at him, heart heavy and mind racing. Taehyung… likes me? Is this really true? A smile crept onto his lips despite himself. All this time… and he actually likes me? Of all the people me?
His thoughts scattered, but reality intruded. He had to get Taehyung to the hostel before curfew. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he rose.
He stood up and gently grabbed Taehyung.
“Hey… we should go,” he said softly.
Taehyung rose lazily, swaying slightly. Jeongguk draped his arm around Taehyung’s neck, steadying him, while his other hand rested on Taehyung’s waist.
They stepped out of the restaurant. Jeongguk guided Taehyung closer to the roadside, waiting for a taxi.
“Ahhh…” Taehyung grumbled, wobbling.
“Hey, stand still,” Jeongguk said, tightening his hold.
But before he could react, Taehyung shifted, circling him, and suddenly stood directly in front of Jeongguk, hands resting on his neck. His eyes dropped shyly to Jeongguk’s.
Jeongguk swallowed hard, chest tightening at the closeness.
Taehyung leaned in, brushing his lips near Jeongguk’s ear, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
“Baby…” he whispered.
Jeongguk’s heart skipped. “T-Taehyung…” he stammered, gripping Taehyung’s waist, trying to step back. But Taehyung didn’t move.
One hand rose, gentle but deliberate, cupping Jeongguk’s cheek. Jeongguk’s breath hitched.
“Pretty,” Taehyung murmured.
Jeongguk’s mind went blank. His hands remained on Taehyung’s waist, body frozen yet drawn in. He felt himself tilt forward involuntarily as Taehyung leaned closer, and then… their lips met.
Jeongguk’s eyes closed instinctively, heart pounding, hands gripping Taehyung’s waist as waves of warmth and disbelief crashed over him.
Taehyung stirred in his sleep as the morning light spilled across his face. A small smile tugged at his lips as he hugged the pillow in his arms. He tightened his hold—but the pillow shifted under him, restless.
He frowned and slowly opened his eyes. His gaze dropped… and his soul practically left his body.
Jeongguk was staring up at him—not just staring, glaring.
Taehyung froze. His arms and legs were wrapped around Jeongguk, and in that moment, Jeongguk was basically trapped beneath him.
Flustered, Taehyung untangled himself, leaving Jeongguk’s body, and straightened on the bed, trying to regain some dignity.
Jeongguk sat up, removing the blanket and standing. He glared down at Taehyung.
“What am I doing here?” Taehyung asked, voice small, trying to sound casual.
“You’re asking me?” Jeongguk snapped, hands on his hips.
Taehyung’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. He slowly stood, flopping onto the floor like a deflated balloon.
“I… I don’t remember,” he mumbled, avoiding Jeongguk’s gaze.
Jeongguk’s glare sharpened. His hand reached for the nearest vase.
Taehyung’s eyes went wide, panic flaring.
“Hey…!” he yelled, flailing slightly, a mix of fear and helplessness.
“I swear, Kim Taehyung—if you don’t remember, I’m going to erase your existence,” Jeongguk spat.
Taehyung gulped, hands raised slightly as he tried to piece things together.
“I remember going to the restaurant… ordering drinks, and—”
“And?” Jeongguk’s glare could’ve burned a hole through him.
“And I…” Taehyung swallowed hard. “I texted.”
“Texted who?” Jeongguk snapped.
Taehyung gave an awkward, sheepish smile. “Oh shit… you knew.”
Jeongguk raised an eyebrow, expression dangerous.
“You just wait.”
He lunged forward.
Taehyung’s eyes widened and he bolted, circling the bed. Jeongguk followed from the opposite side, both of them moving in perfect, ridiculous sync.
“Come here,” Jeongguk warned.
“Wait—wait!” Taehyung yelped, breathless. “Look, I didn’t mean to toy with you, I swear!”
Jeongguk stopped abruptly, glare sharp.
Taehyung slowed too, chest rising and falling as he spoke quickly, words tumbling out.
“I just… wanted to feel special talking to you. That’s all. That’s why I did it. And it was barely three or four times—I’m already caught!”
The room fell quiet.
Jeongguk stared at him, heart pounding, anger tangling painfully with something far softer. Taehyung stood there—messy, honest, scared—looking nothing like someone who’d meant to hurt him.
And that somehow made everything worse.
“And if I hadn’t caught you?” Jeongguk asked, voice low, challenging.
Taehyung’s grin widened, mischievous.
“Then… maybe I’d make you fall in love with me,” he said, eyes sparkling.
“You…” Jeongguk started, climbing onto the bed.
Taehyung’s eyes went wide. He scrambled to the other side, but Jeongguk lunged, grabbing him from behind.
Taehyung stumbled, reaching to steady himself by grabbing Jeongguk—but the move threw them both off balance. They tumbled, limbs tangled, and crashed onto the bed.
Taehyung landed on the mattress first, breathless, and Jeongguk fell on top of him.
The vase in Jeongguk’s hand hit Taehyung lightly on the head.
“Ouch…” Taehyung hissed, wincing.
Jeongguk’s eyes widened in panic.
“Oh! You’re okay?” He dropped the vase onto the bed and cupped Taehyung’s cheeks gently, his fingers brushing over flushed skin.
Taehyung blinked up at him, wide-eyed, his heartbeat echoing in the quiet room.
“You… you’re worried about me?” he whispered, voice soft, almost disbelieving.
Jeongguk swallowed hard.
“In your dreams,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.
He started to stand, but Taehyung’s hands shot around his waist, holding him in place.
Jeongguk’s breath hitched. He stared down at Taehyung, heart racing.
Taehyung met his gaze, eyes steady for a moment, then flickered with uncertainty.
“Wait… a moment, please,” he said softly.
Jeongguk blinked, confused.
Taehyung’s brow furrowed briefly, then his eyes widened in realization.
“We… kissed?” he asked, voice small, almost disbelieving.
Jeongguk froze. Panic surged through him. He pushed Taehyung’s hands away and stood abruptly.
Taehyung stood too, hesitating, his gaze locked on Jeongguk. Just as Jeongguk turned to leave, Taehyung grabbed his wrist.
“Did we… kiss?” he asked again, desperate for confirmation.
Jeongguk turned slowly, meeting his eyes.
“No,” he said firmly, jerking his arm back.
Taehyung stepped in front of him, arms falling loosely by his sides, a mixture of urgency and awe in his voice.
“I remember now… your lips, my lips… Apocalypse,” he breathed out. “We kissed.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. Jeongguk’s chest tightened, mind racing, heart pounding with the truth he couldn’t deny.
Jeongguk gulped, heat creeping onto his cheeks.
“It was you… you forced it,” he said, voice low, almost accusing.
Taehyung’s eyes widened, and he almost dropped.
“Oh…” he whispered, guilt threading through his tone. “I’m sorry.”
Jeongguk looked at him. Taehyung was clearly guilty, fidgeting, avoiding his gaze.
“I kissed back,” Jeongguk admitted, surprising even himself. “So… it’s equal.”
Taehyung’s eyes lit up, a spark of hope and disbelief dancing in them. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them.
“Really?”
“What?” Jeongguk gulped, heart hammering.
“You… kissed back?” Taehyung asked, voice soft but eager.
“You should go to your hostel now,” Jeongguk said quickly, trying to regain composure, but Taehyung grabbed him, spun him around, and trapped him with a hand on his waist.
Jeongguk’s breath hitched.
“Jeongguk… I like you,” Taehyung said, voice low, steady, and honest.
Jeongguk’s heart skipped a beat. He looked up at him, caught off guard by the intensity of those words.
“You kissed me back… it means you felt something too, right?” Taehyung pressed, hope shining in his eyes.
“What if I don’t?” Jeongguk muttered, trying to sound indifferent, though his heart betrayed him.
“Then I’ll try harder,” Taehyung said with a grin, mischievous and earnest all at once. “More teasing, more… effort. If you can kiss me back after one year, then two years… and you’ll be my boyfriend.”
Jeongguk’s chest tightened, heart skipping again at the audacity and the honesty of it.
Taehyung released him and grabbed his phone. Jeonggukk watched him, speechless.
“Will… meet you on campus, princess,” Taehyung said with a playful wink. He smiled, then turned and left the room.
Jeongguk bit down on his lips, a slow, soft smile creeping onto his face, heat still lingering in his chest.
Taehyung pov:
Jeongguk pov:
