Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Since ancient times, philosophers have debated which emotion is the strongest and which one is uniquely human. Love, happiness, passion, disappointment—or is it something else? The answer is hate. Hate is the most powerful and deeply rooted emotion. It makes your blood boil, your skin crawl; it is what defines you as human while simultaneously teasing out your most uncivilized, primal instincts.

For Park Jimin, hate had become the force that made him tread carefully, as if on tiptoes, over the past few months. It was the only thing he chased to feel alive, and though he refused to admit it, he craved the way it coursed through his blood. Maybe it was because hate was the only emotion he felt passionate about showing and experiencing

Like right now, he feels that very emotion tearing his heart from his chest as he sees his ex-girlfriend—the one who dumped him without explanation a few days ago—wrapped in Jeon Jungkook's arms in the long corridor of classrooms. The scene feels like undeniable proof of the rumors that had spread at lightning speed since yesterday, driving Jimin to the brink of madness. His fingers tremble, and his mind screams at him to lose control. He wants to tear those arms from their place and break them until they can no longer function.

When the tall guy met Park Jimin's fiery gaze from across the corridor, he smirked, as if determined to make the situation worse. He practically slugged Jimin with that smug look, his lips curving into a smirk that reached his upper cheeks, revealing his bunny teeth—taunting a man who now looked seconds away from committing murder. Kim Taehyung, like everyone else in the hallway, could feel the heavy tension in the air. Unlike the rest, he anxiously prepared to stop his best friend from doing something reckless. But it was too late.

In a flash, Park Jimin left everyone in shock with his swift reaction. One moment, he was burning holes into Jungkook with his glare; the next, he was right in front of him. Jimin yanked him forward by his shirt collar, causing a few girls nearby to scream. Taehyung lunged to intervene, but it was already too late to stop him. Jimin seized the opportunity and slammed his fist squarely into the center of Jungkook's smug grin.

Jimin swore between punches, completely indifferent to the chaos he had unleashed in the hallway. Consumed by his seething anger and hatred, he acted on instinct, oblivious to the shocked crowd around him. Jungkook, though startled by the sudden attack, wasn’t entirely unprepared. If anything, he thrived on the adrenaline coursing through him, his fists tingling with the thrill of the moment.

As he tried to catch the expression on Jimin’s face lost in the flurry of blows, he momentarily lost his balance. It was just enough for him to stumble and hit the ground while dodging another of Jimin's furious punches. Desperate not to lose the upper hand, Jungkook grabbed at Jimin’s collar as he fell, dragging him down as well. Within seconds, the two were intertwining on the floor, a chaotic blur of fists and shouts, as the hallway erupted around them before anyone could intervene.

The crowd watched the scene as if in slow motion. While the vice president sprinted toward the hallway, a few girls screamed at the sight of the chaos unfolding before them—a scene that was, surprisingly, starting to become almost routine at the Elite Busan High School.

Park Jimin, the school’s golden boy—successful, social, and the ultimate heartthrob every girl drool over—was throwing punches at Jeon Jungkook, the new hot topic on the school’s gossip groups. To say this wasn’t expected would be an understatement; trouble was the last thing anyone associated with someone like Park Jimin.

Just a few months ago, this situation would have been unthinkable. High school fights happen everywhere, even at one of the country’s most prestigious institutions, but no one would have ever imagined Park Jimin being part of the chaos. Jimin was the epitome of class and composure—a true gentleman. If you weren’t worth his attention, he wouldn’t so much as glance your way. He was focused, determined, and seemingly untouchable. For most of the girls in the school, Jimin was the ultimate crush, a flawless prince they could only dream of. For the boys, however, his mere existence was kinda annoying, the way his charm made girls lose their mind is unbearable , and his confidence often came across as arrogance. Still, even the most skeptical boys couldn’t help but soften up when given the chance to interact with him.

Now, though, the girls blamed Jungkook, seeing him as the demon who had corrupted their delicate Jimin, turning him into someone capable of throwing fists in the middle of the school. Secretly, however, many of them also found the "hot demon" irresistible.

And yet, no one really knew what was going on between the two of them—what kept landing them in trouble, week after week.

Finally, when Jungkook found an opening to dodge Jimin’s relentless punch, he pushed him off and scrambled to his knees, ready to retaliate properly against the smaller boy. But before he could charge forward, two strong arms restrained him, holding him in place as he watched Jimin struggle against the others trying to pull him away. Their eyes locked again across the chaos. Jungkook saw it—the same crazed spark in Jimin's gaze, the same electric intensity that mirrored his own.

The fire of hatred burned between them, equal and unyielding. Jimin hated him just as much as he hated Jimin, and the realization sent a thrill coursing through Jungkook, tickling his veins with adrenaline. He wanted to reach him again, grab his collar, slam him against the wall—and moreee...He didn’t know why, but seeing Jimin like this, teetering on the edge of losing all control to his rage and hatred, felt intoxicating. It was a delirium he couldn’t resist, and he knew, with every fiber of his being, that Jimin felt the same way. Their emotions were mutual, raw, and uncontainable, as if they were caught in a vortex of chaos that only they could understand.

Jungkook used all his strength to break free from the arms holding him back, but just as he was about to charge at Jimin, a deep voice echoed through the hallway, freezing everyone in their tracks. The scene that followed was all too familiar, and it left Kim Taehyung frustrated as always. As he escorted Jimin and Jungkook to the principal’s office, he couldn’t stop grumbling under his breath. A harsh warning was delivered to both boys, with a particularly scolding speech aimed at Jimin: 'You’ve made us disappointed.' It ended just like it had the week before.

They were assigned the usual punishment—cleaning the public spaces—and left the office in silence. The two didn’t stay with Taehyung; they exchanged hateful glares and muttered curses as they proceeded in opposite directions, leaving Taehyung standing alone in the middle of the corridor.Taehyung glanced at his childhood friend, Jungkook, and just turn his head to opposite direction to watch his best friend silhouette fade away down the hallway.

He rolled his eyes, frustrated. He needed to fix this mess as soon as possible. Cuz seriously what the fuck is going on he do not understand? When Taehyung first learned that he would be reunited with his childhood friend Jungkook in high school, he imagined introducing Jimin to him and the three of them—his best friends—would be the coolest trio at school. But now? The worst possible outcome had happened: they had become bitter enemies, and it was turning his life into a miserable mess. He hated this situation, and he had to resolve it quickly—for the sake of his own sanity.

Chapter Text

Jimin took off his black school jacket and placed it on one of the empty chairs. He gazed at the books scattered across the tables and spilling out from the boxes in front of the shelves. The past week had been as quiet and calm as possible, much like the empty library he was standing in right now.

He hated public space cleaning duties, especially since he had been forced to do them as punishment at least three times a week. It must be almost 10 pm and he didn't even started yet. Trying to relax, he ran his fingers through his greasy fluffy hair, exhausted from the rush of the day.

As he began rolling up his sleeves, he paused, carefully considering where to start.

Park Jimin was a meticulous and organized person, someone who valued his time and hated wasting it on meaningless tasks. Like now, for example. Every second spent here felt like an enormous waste. He could have been finishing one of his half-completed paintings or practicing the new piece he'd been learning on the school piano.

But no. Instead, he was stuck here, cleaning up after other people, all because of one idiot. The thought alone made his blood simmer, feeding the ever-growing fire of his hatred for Jeon Jungkook. How could he not despise him even more when Jungkook had turned Jimin's carefully structured life into this mess?

Trying to push aside his reluctance and simmering anger, Jimin reminded himself that this was the last day of his punishment. The thought gave him a small surge of strength, just enough to keep him going.

The faster he got this over with, the better. Quickly, he mapped out a plan in his head. Taehyung would be here to help soon, or at least that’s what they had agreed on. For now, he just had to keep moving until backup arrived.

Jimin decided to start with cleaning the top shelves. As the sound of classical music echoed through the otherwise empty library, he dragged a portable ladder into place in front of the towering shelves. Grabbing the damp cloth he had prepared and he carefully climbed up.

The shelves reached almost to the ceiling, which stood at an impressive height of nearly five meters. It was a daunting height for anyone, not just Jimin. And while he might have been tempted to blame his shorter stature for needing the ladder, the truth was, no one could have reached those shelves without it.

As he wiped the dust off the nearly emptied top shelf, he couldn’t help but wonder how the other students managed to access these shelves to borrow so many books. He thought about it for a moment and couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something very strange about the whole situation.

After forty minutes of monotonous work, Jimin climbed the ladder once again, to clean the final shelf and return the books to their places this time with a sigh. As he picked up the thick theoretical physics textbooks, his suspicions only deepened.

Why were these books deliberately taken down when their curriculum didn’t even include physics? The thought nagged at him, but he quickly dismissed it. He had thought it would be over sooner, but there still seemed to be a lot of work left. He sighed in frustration. It had to be done by tomorrow.

The faint sounds of footsteps coming from the library entrance made Jimin assume that Taehyung had finally arrived.

"Come to my voice! and save me please !" he shouted toward the unseen door, his attention still focused on checking the misplaced thickest books’ numbers and returning them to their proper spots.

'Where have you been, you filthy liar? I’m already dying of exhaustion!' he grumbled as the approaching footsteps grew louder, his frustration spilling over as he waited for his supposed rescuer to appear.

Jimin grabbed the last remaining book, a large and surprisingly heavy theory textbook. In an reckless moment, he let go of the ladder with one hand to maneuver the bulky volume onto the lower shelf.

That split-second mistake was all it took for him to lose his balance entirely. The world seemed to tilt as he felt himself falling backward, the ladder slipping out of his control. A startled gasp escaped his lips as his eyes instinctively squeezed shut, bracing for the inevitable collision with the hard library floor from five meter height.

But the impact never came.

Hang in the in midair, Jimin hesitated to open his eyes, his mind struggling to process the unexpected pause in his descent. He felt pressure on certain parts of his body, hands gripping him firmly, and a warm breath disturbingly close to his face. Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes, only to be met with a sight that filled him with a mix of shock and disbelief.

The last thing Jimin expected, or wanted, was to find that face so close to his own.

Jungkook’s face was marked with faint, faded bruises from last week’s fight, bearing the signs of Jimin’s own handiwork, and now, his face was so close that Jimin could practically feel his breath.

One of Jungkook’s arms was securely wrapped around Jimin’s shoulders, supporting him, while the other was awkwardly gripping Jimin’s legs as if holding on for dear life. The way he held him was as like the slightest movement would send them both tumbling off a cliff.

The horror in their expressions mirrored one another, reflecting the disbelief and shock in their eyes. Both of them frozen, unable to fully grasp the absurdity of the situation.

After a few seconds of pointless staring and the sudden realization, Jungkook quickly released his grip. Just before Jimin crashed to the ground again, he managed to steady himself with his hands and quickly got back on his feet. As he brushed himself off, he tried to shake the strange moment from his mind.

However, the moment Jungkook entered his line of sight, Jimin could feel his anger rising again, the same kid who always seemed to set him off.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jimin asked, not waiting for an answer before pulling his gaze away and starting to empty the boxes on the floor. He couldn’t afford to waste time on this jerk. He just wanted to put the last of the books in the final boxes and get out of there as quickly as possible. Although there was still quite a lot of work left,

"It’s nothing,you are welcome!!" Jungkook said mockingly. Jimin rolled his eyes. The taller one didn’t mind, since he wasn’t expecting any thanks from him anyway.He tossed his bag aside and started shrugging off his jacket.

Now Jimin seemed to be paying attention, his eyebrows furrowed, probably trying to figure out what the hell he was doing.

"Sorry sweetie! but today I can only take off my jacket. The rest, you’ll have to let your imagination help with," Jungkook winked and smirked, completely unfazed by the deadly glare from Jimin.

"Fuck off, are you here to try my patience ?" Jungkook completly ignored the kid who was practically burning holes in him with his eyes and climbed the stairs to the upper shelves. As he casually glanced around spotless shelves, he looked for a reason to bad mouth about, but it seemed Jimin had done his job pretty well.

" Instead of trying to act tough, what about helping me out and finish these torture of week, you little dwarf ! Hand me those books, and let's put them back in order. It’s obvious your tiny arms and clumsiness can’t manage to hold and place them properly at time." Jungkook said, flicking the dust off the shelf with his fingers and blowing on it, as if it had any left.

Jungkook couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction seeing Jimin's furious expression and anger from that angle as he even look smaller because of the height diffence that ladder provide. And it was honestly so gratifying to Jungkook that he almost reconsidered his decision to beat up Taehyung for lying to him to meet at the library to clean together.

"Give it to me, what's with the staring? I’m not going to let you accuse me of not working," Jungkook tried to explain, attempting to convince the stiffed boy.

"I’m not going to snitch on you, so just buzz off! I don’t want to deal with your shit right now. Taehyung will be here soon anyway." Jimin said with his usual expression.

If he started another fight with Jungkook right now, no one would be there to break it up, and silencing the devil on his left was becoming harder for Jimin with every passing second.

"Don't tell me you're that a sucker, Tae's playing both of us. He's probably already wasted at Hoseok's home party . He's already posted 45 stories that'll make him pass out from embarrassment once he remembers them. And he's not answering my calls either." Jungkook sighed when he noticed the skeptical look on the Jimin’s face. It was obvious that Jimin didn’t believe him. He quickly pulled out his phone and opened Taehyung's account, then held it out towards the shorter boy.

Jimin took the phone with suspicion in his eyes, and with every story he tap from the begining, he grew more shocked. Meanwhile, Jungkook was grumbling in the background, trying to fix the bottom shelf as he had taken a few steps down the stairs.

When Jimin reached the last story, he stopped. It had been posted just a few minutes ago.

It was a selfie with a caption. Taehyung had added to a selfie of himself he took in front of a couple kissing—more accurately, the boys tongue pressed deep against the girl throats—Jimin's brow furrowed even more while trying to read the caption. The caption says, "Now it is your turn to kiss and make up, my dear broskiss!" and some weird tongue and flame emojies that made jimin disgusted even more.

Taehyung had tagged seperatly both Jimin and Jungkook’s individual accounts on the image of the couple. Jimin didn’t even stop to think about how Taehyung had the energy to post such an elaborate story while clearly being intoxicated.

He stared at the screen for a few more seconds, lost in the image of the kissing couple and the tags.As unsettling feelings slowly crept into his mind, Jimin didn't even notice the silence surrounding him.

That's why Jimin didn’t realize the hand was reaching for the phone until it was too late. In a rush of panic and frustration, he threw the phone certainly is not belong to him, across the room, sending it crashing against the shelf.

Jungkook froze, eyes shifting from Jimin, now seething, to the phone on the floor. The scene unfolded slowly, Jimin’s outburst was the last thing he expected. Shock washed over him as he stepped back, his mind trying to catch up.

The tension was thick. Jimin, struggling to regain composure, watched Jungkook’s gaze flicker between him and the broken phone. Without hesitation, Jungkook stormed down the last few steps and marched toward the wreckage.

The silence grew heavier with each step, as Jungkook’s frustration boiled over. He didn’t understand Jimin’s reaction, but he wasn’t going to let it slide.

"Are you out of your damn mind? What the hell are you doing?!" Jungkook snapped, his hands flying to the screen to check the damage. A few presses and he saw the back camera was crushed, the screen littered with cracks.

He stormed toward Jimin, his anger clear. "You're gonna pay for this, Park Jimin. No way you're getting off easy." Grabbing Jimin by the collar, he yanked him forward, ready to shake him, but Jimin wasn’t having it. With an almost identical level of force, he latched onto Jungkook's collar, glaring right back.

"Really?" Jimin sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think I care about your stupid phone? What, you call that a phone? More like a useless piece of junk. You're pathetic loser." His words hit hard, the insult like a slap to the face. The two were nose-to-nose now, their breaths heavy with frustration, neither willing to back down, each more pissed off than the last. Jungkook sometimes forgot that he had transferred to a school where people practically threw money around. Of course, the phone he had received back in middle school as his first ever device was nothing more than a piece of junk in the eyes of these spoiled brats.

Jungkook's words came out in a venomous hiss, his hatred boiling over. "Pathetic? That is exactly what you are!" His voice was thick with rage as he leaned in closer, his tone dripping with disgust."Mark my words, Park Jimin. You're not getting away with this." His fists clenched as he took a step closer, the air around them thick with hostility.

Jimin's voice cut through the silence. He couldn’t hold back any longer. His words came out in a furious rush, unfiltered and biting. "You better answer for your damn whoring ways first," he snarled, his words thick with venom. "I barely scratched the surface. I should've fucking destroyed your face that day." His gaze was fierce, his anger boiling over, and every word seemed to drip with hatred as he glared at Jungkook.

Jimin's raw words stirred a strange sense of frustration and excitement within Jungkook, something he couldn’t quite understand. “Still sore? Looks like you are not taking us sitting down yet. Can’t seem to accept us." Jungkook whispered, each word deliberately heavy, like he was forcing it to land with precision. "But you’ll get used to it. Soon enough, you'll see us together more than you'd ever want to." The tension in his voice pressed like a weight, thick with unspoken intent.

Jimin pushed Jungkook against the shelves with force and close the gap between them as speed light. Jungkook's back tensing with pain as he let out a bitter groan. Every time he underestimated the shorter boy, his body paid the price.

"No, that’s not going to happen. You’ll stay away from her!" Jimin commanded through gritted teeth. His words hit Jungkook like a slap, dragging him momentarily into a world of familiar, but unwelcome thoughts. The boy’s face was tense with anger, yet his steady gaze, so calm compared to the fury in his voice, unsettled Jungkook.

The harsh, low tone that left Jimin’s throat sent a shiver down Jungkook's spine, stirring a strange sensation in his stomach, something he’d never felt before. As their eyes locked, each scanning the other’s face, Jungkook could only swallow hard, his throat suddenly dry, as though a desert had taken over.

Jimin didn’t seem to be expecting an answer though, his expression full of confidence as if what he’d said was already a given. His certainty made it clear that Jungkook had no choice in the matter.

Jungkook, now completely dismissing the broken phone and harsh words, shot back with a provocative smirk. "What? Jealous?" he asked, his voice dripping with challenge. He whispered it, as if the silence of the library demanded them to keep it low.

He wasn't even fully aware of what he was doing. His eyes wandered over Jimin’s clenched lips, noticing how the anger tightened around them. For a brief moment, he felt the dryness in his own lips, and he instinctively licked them, the action betraying the sudden tension between them. As he did, his gaze didn’t leave Jimin, watching the other’s reaction, every moment of disbelief and anger.

Jimin’s grip on Jungkook’s neck loosened, but the daze didn’t last long. As soon as he regained himself, he lunged at the taller boy again, anger flooding through him. Now, he felt even more irate and out of control than before. He forcefully shoved his head into Jungkook's nose, and the sound of pain escaping the other boy’s lips made him recoil. He shoved him away as if he had just touched fire, heart racing.

All Jimin wanted now was to get away. Without a word, he grabbed his bag from the floor and started heading for the exit. Jungkook didn’t react, only wiping the blood from his nose, his mind racing. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t as angry as he should’ve been. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right with him.

Chapter Text

Elite Busan High School was renowned for its sprawling gymnasium, a space that mirrored the school’s devotion to its crown jewel: the basketball team. The court, expansive and polished to a gleam, was the heartbeat of the school, a testament to the team’s dominance and reputation.

On the court, the rhythmic sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor mixed with the echo of bouncing basketballs as players began their warm-ups. They had just filed out of the locker room, their movements precise, almost ritualistic, as they prepared for another intense practice session.

At the edge of the basketball court stood Coach Minho, a man whose energy belied his age. In his trademark radiant green tracksuit, he exuded a casual authority, a coach who commanded respect without demanding it. For over eight years, he had been the guiding force behind Busan High’s basketball team, dedicating himself to shaping their success.

Coach Minho walk toward the shortest player on the team, flipping through the training schedule in his hands as he went. The first practice of the week always carried a certain energy, and he intended to channel it effectively.

"Jimin, once warm-ups are done, start the running exercises," he said, his tone firm but encouraging. "I’ve got an hour’s worth of work to handle. By the time I’m back, I want the team ready for the match practise. Show me what you’ve got, Captain." He punctuated his words with a solid pat on Jimin’s back.

"Got it, Coach!" Jimin responded, his voice ringing with enthusiasm and confidence. His posture straightened instinctively as if to match the responsibility placed on him. Satisfied, Coach Minho turned on his heel and exited the gym, leaving Jimin to take charge of the team.

Without wasting a moment, Jimin stepped back slightly, ensuring he could see the entire team. Clapping his hands loudly, he drew their attention with practiced ease.

"Alright, everyone, let’s set up the parkour quickly. We’re starting with the running!" His clear, commanding voice carried across the gym, prompting the players to spring into action. They moved with the precision of a team in routine, setting up for the familiar exercises.

The Busan High School basketball team wasn’t just any school sports team; it was a symbol of pride and tradition. Known throughout the country, it had a legacy that spanned decades. The team had produced some of Korea's greatest basketball legends, including Jimin's own father, who had been discovered during his time on this very team.

The team had always been one of the top youth squads, a powerhouse of skill and determination. While its golden years were a thing of the past, the team was steadily climbing back to prominence under Coach Minho’s leadership.

For the past two years, Jimin had been the team’s beloved captain, their 'golden boy' despite his relativly small figure . What he lacked in height, he more than made up for with lightning-fast agility and sharp strategic thinking on the basketball court. His presence alone could inspire the team to push harder, aim higher.

In just three weeks, Busan High would face Ilsan High in a critical match. This wasn’t just any game, it was a stepping stone. The winner would secure a spot in the Seoul finals, a stage where the nation’s best high school teams would compete for glory. But more importantly, playing in Seoul meant exposure, an opportunity to catch the eyes of professional scouts.

For the players, it was less about the prize money and more about the dream: a shot at professional leagues, a golden ticket to a future in basketball.

Because of this, practices had become more intense lately. Coach Minho wasn’t leaving anything to chance; every training, every play, every step was carefully calibrated to prepare the team for victory. The pressure was on, but the dream made it all worth it.

Jimin cared deeply about this game, it wasn’t just about personal glory but also about leading his team to victory. As captain, he was well aware of the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders. Holding a stopwatch in one hand, he watched intently as one of the team member sprinted through the parkour.

"One minute, forty-six seconds. Not bad, Chan! Watch your wrists, though!" he called out, his sharp eyes catching the team member’s slight misstep. Without missing a beat, he blew his whistle.

"Next up... Start on three!" Jimin’s voice echoed across the gym, confident and commanding. The line of players moved like clockwork, each taking their turn through the exercise.

The rhythm of practice was steady until Jimin’s gaze was pulled to the gym entrance. His eyes landed on a figure strolling in with a lazy, almost careless stride.

The boy wore short sports shorts and, in defiance of school rules, the red jersey he always insisted on wearing under his uniform shirt. His hair was a mess, and apart from the fading bruise marks, caused by Jimin, his face was annoyingly flawless.

Jimin couldn't wrap his head around how every single thing about this boy managed to be so infuriating. His walk, his attitude, even his presence. It all felt like a deliberate attempt to provoke him.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Jimin blew his whistle sharply, halting the teammate who was mid-run on the parkour. His hand shot up as he gestured for them to stop. His eyes, however, were locked on the boy still sauntering toward them.

"Unbelievable," Jimin muttered under his breath, a mix of irritation and disbelief flickering in his expression.

"If you're going to show up this late, don't bother coming at all!" Jimin snapped, crossing his arms as his voice reverberated through the gym. "None of us have the luxury to be late,not with the match in three weeks! Or are you completely oblivious to that fact?" His tone was sharp, his glare unyielding as he stared down Jungkook.

Jungkook halted a few steps away, his posture tense, his gaze flickering across the silent stares of the team before finally landing back on Jimin.

Taking a deep, annoyed breath, Jungkook tried to temper his growing irritation. Every time he walked into this gym, he was met with the frustrating reality that his least favorite person, Jimin, was the captain of the team he had to be part of so unfourtunatly he was the one in charge. His voice was tight with restraint as he began, " I know, Of course, I know. I was late because—"

"Nobody gives a damn about your excuses, Jungkook," Jimin cut him off coldly, his words slicing through the air. "If you know how important this match is, then show it. Be late again, and you'll deal with the consequences."

With that, Jimin didn’t wait for a response. His gaze shifted from Jungkook as he blew his whistle sharply, signaling the team to resume.

Jungkook’s mouth opened, ready to retort, but the piercing sound of the whistle shut him down. His jaw clenched in frustration, and he glared daggers at Jimin, whose smug satisfaction at the situation only deepened Jungkook’s simmering anger.
Jimin caught the heated expression out of the corner of his eye and felt a flicker of satisfaction himself.

Jungkook reluctantly joined the practice, and the team continued with the running exercise. But every time it was his turn, Jimin either made him repeat the parkour or mocked his stamina with biting remarks.

Jungkook could feel himself getting closer to his breaking point. He didn't think he was the type to take things personally, but Jimin’s behavior was clearly an unfair attack. He was using his position as captain to make Jungkook’s life miserable throughout the entire session.

Since Jungkook joined the team earlier this season, he hadn't exactly been treated with kindness by Jimin, but today felt different. It felt like he was being singled out for extra bullying, and it was starting to wear him down.

Everything went on its usual flow until Coach Minho showed up, splitting the team in half for a practice match. However, while Jimin had stopped his verbal jabs, his behavior took on a more subtle form of cruelty. He barely passed the ball to Jungkook, instead focusing on keeping it away from him. And whenever Jungkook made the smallest mistake, Jimin was quick to suggest replacing him with someone else, as if he were already a failure.

"Coach, Jaemin should sub in for Jungkook."

"Coach, should I send the players on the bench for water?" As Jungkook moved to the waiting bench, he was being called out again, not even given a moment to rest.

"Coach, some of the players seem like they need extra training. Like Jungkook."

It was unbearable. The constant undermining, the little digs, the way Jimin was using his position to subtly tear Jungkook down.

Jungkook knew the game was far from fair, and it seemed like Jimin was determined to make him the punching bag for the day.

By the time the one-hour match ended, Jungkook was certain of one thing—today was the day he was going to be a murderer.

Every moment, every second felt like a reminder of how badly Jimin had been pushing him, testing his limits. His body was on edge, muscles tense and aching with the pressure, but it wasn’t just physical. The anger, the frustration, everything had been building up.

The bottle in his hand, his fourth for the day, suddenly felt heavier. As he squeezed it tightly, the sound of it crumpling echoed in the silence of his mind. This time, it wasn’t just about the game. This was personal.

Jungkook’s face was flushed with a mix of exhaustion and anger, his chest rising and falling in short, labored breaths. As he sat on the bench, his gaze was fixed intently on the short, sweat-soaked figure of Jimin, who sat across from him with Coach Minho, discussing the details of the match. The intensity of Jungkook's stare could almost be felt from across the room, as if his eyes were daggers aimed directly at Jimin.

Jimin’s white bandana had slipped back from his forehead, strands of hair sticking to his damp face. The sweat glistened on his skin, rolling down his temples, and his short-sleeved gray t-shirt clung to his body, drenched with perspiration. The shirt was tight enough that the shape of his torso was visible through the fabric, the lines of his muscles faintly outlined beneath the soaked material. Below the t-shirt, Jimin wore the same black shorts that Jungkook had grown to despise. For some reason, Jungkook couldn’t stand seeing Jimin wear them. The dark color and the way the shorts hugged his form only made Jimin appear even more irritating, and Jungkook couldn’t shake the feeling of unease they triggered.

Jimin, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the gaze burning over his body. He is trying to figure out what coach minho means by saying fouls, red, red shirt, sweat-soaked red jersey ... no wait! he did not said something like these. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the conversation with the coach, his eyes couldn’t help but his attention kept drifting back to Jungkook, who was sitting a few bench behind coach, his jersey now a darker shade of red from the sweat. It was as if the weight of Jungkook’s stare held him captive, unwilling to let him look away. He didn’t want to be the one to break the silence fight, but somehow, his gaze kept returning to Jungkook, challenging the intensity of the unspoken tension between them.

Jimin tried to convince himself that his actions had nothing to do with his personal grudge with Jungkook. He had simply been calling it as he saw it, Jungkook's performance today had been dreadful, and Jimin had merely pointed it out, perhaps a bit too bluntly. But even as he tried to rationalize it, there was a part of him that couldn't deny the strange satisfaction he felt from seeing Jungkook’s face twist into a tomato-red, furious expression. It was… unsettling, how much enjoyment he derived from it. It wasn’t normal, and Jimin knew it. But he couldn’t help himself.

"Alright, guys, let's wrap up today’s practice with a quick 15-minute match. Get up, let’s go!" Coach Minho’s whistle cut through the air, and with groans and tired grumbles, the team slowly rose from their positions on the floor.

The energy in the room was palpable, the team members fatigued but ready for the final push. But Coach Minho had mixed things up this time. He split the team into new groups, and as Jungkook glanced across the court, he saw the familiar face of his most loathed teammate, Jimin. His lips curled into a slow, almost sinister smile, a look that could have been mistaken for something straight out of a psychological thriller. The way his mouth twisted wasn’t just a grin; it was unnervingly calm, as if he were anticipating something dark. It wasn’t just a smile; it was a warning.

Jungkook could feel his blood begin to boil with excitement as he locked eyes with Jimin. This game was going to be more than just a match, it was going to be a battlefield.

The rest of the team exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes darting between Jungkook and Jimin, then pleading silently with Coach Minho. It was clear to everyone that putting these two on opposing sides was a recipe for disaster. But Coach wasn’t budging, he had already decided not to place his strongest players on the same team. His gaze remained focused on the court, oblivious to the storm brewing between his captain and Jungkook.

The whistle's shrill sound cut through the tension, followed by the ball soaring into the air. With that, the game started, transforming the court into a battlefield. The atmosphere was electric, every player aware that this was no ordinary practice match.

It didn’t take long for things to escalate. Within the first minute, Jimin darted down the court, weaving skillfully to protect the ball. But Jungkook was already closing in on him, his speed and size giving him the upper hand this time. With a calculated swipe of his leg, he sent Jimin stumbling forward. The whistle blew sharply—foul. The game ground to a halt as the two lunged toward each other, restrained just in time by their teammates.

“Play properly, or I’ll throw both of you out!” Coach Minho’s voice boomed across the court, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The game resumed, but the tension between Jimin and Jungkook only grew thicker, like a storm cloud about to burst. Jungkook’s gaze never left his opponent, and Jimin was all too aware of it. Every dribble, every pass, every movement seemed calculated to one-up the other.

As the game progressed, their clashes became more physical, their fouls more frequent. The court, meant for basketball, started to resemble the turf of a football field, with shoves and body checks that would make even a linebacker proud.

After a few hard-fought points, it happened again. Jungkook drove toward the hoop, only to pivot and throw a sharp elbow into Jimin’s ribs as he passed by. The whistle screamed once more, but it was too late, the two were already face-to-face, rage boiling over. Shouts erupted from their teammates as they scrambled to separate them.

“Enough!” Coach roared, stepping onto the court with authority. “This isn’t a wrestling ring! One more move like that, and you’re both done!”

The rest of the team stood frozen, paralyzed by fear. No one dared to step in anymore. It felt as if the game had shrunk to just two players—Jungkook and Jimin. Point after point, it was always one of them, dominating the court with sheer determination and spite.

But the breaking point came when Jungkook lunged for the ball that Jimin was dribbling. His swift move was met with a sharp elbow, striking him square in the chest. The impact doubled him over, his breath catching as pain shot through his ribs. That was it. Jungkook’s patience finally snapped.

With a growl of frustration, he straightened up, grabbed the front of Jimin’s t-shirt, and pulled the smaller boy close, his face flushed with rage.

“Who the hell do you think you are, you midget maniac?!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the stunned silence of the gym.

Jimin, never one to back down, grabbed Jungkook’s jerseyt in return, his eyes blazing with defiance. “Oh, I’m sorry, did the baby start crying because he’s losing again?” His words were like gasoline on a fire, and the smirk that followed was the final matchstick.

The tension exploded. Jungkook’s fist shot out, landing squarely on Jimin’s cheek with a sickening crack. The smaller boy staggered but quickly regained his footing, blood already trickling from the corner of his mouth. He didn’t hesitate for a second, swinging back with a force that belied his size.

Chaos erupted.

Their teammates hesitated, too afraid to get caught in the crossfire of flying fists and shouted curses. When someone finally worked up the courage to step in, they were shoved aside as the two boys wrestled each other to the ground. Punches, kicks, and insults filled the air, each blow fueled by the pent-up frustration and animosity they’d been harboring for weeks.

The piercing shriek of a whistle cut through the chaos, freezing everyone in their tracks.

The gym fell deathly silent, save for the heavy breathing of the two combatants and the occasional drip of blood hitting the floor. No one moved.

Coach Minho stood in the middle of the gym, hands on his hips, radiating frustration and disbelief. the whistle still pressed to his lips. His eyes swept over the team, who stood lined up in tense silence, looking as though they might shatter at any moment. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and glared directly at Jimin and Jungkook.

“Are you two trying to ruin my life?!”

The coach’s booming voice practically echoed off the gym walls. The rest of the team flinched, glancing nervously between the two troublemakers and the furious coach. Jimin and Jungkook stood with their heads bowed and shoulders slumped, too guilty to even lift their eyes. Their postures practically screamed surrender.

Coach Minho’s scowl deepened as his voice sharpened further.
“If I see this kind of behavior again, you won’t just be off this team, you’ll forget this school even exists! Got it?!”

Neither dared to utter a word, only nodding silently. But the quiet didn’t last long. Jimin, pressing a bloody tissue against his nose, attempted to speak up. He barely opened his mouth before Coach Minho cut him off with a raised hand.

“From today onward, until the end of this term, you two will clean this gym after every practice.”

Both boys’ heads snapped up, their faces frozen in disbelief. Their mouths opened to protest, but the coach silenced them with another sharp gesture.

“If either of you has an issue with this, feel free to quit the team. No one’s stopping you.”

The threatening finality in his words silenced any objections. Jimin and Jungkook swallowed their complaints, their shoulders sinking even further. With no choice left, they stood motionless, staring at the floor like scolded children.

This wasn’t the first punishment they’d faced, but it was by far the harshest. Cleaning the gym after every practice felt like a punishment designed to crush their spirits. Worse, it forced them to spend extra time together, which, given their mutual animosity, was more of a psychological torment than a physical one.

Coach Minho scanned the rest of the team with a final glare, his expression gradually softening as he took a deep breath. “Alright, dismissed. Be here at the same time tomorrow. And remember, this team runs on discipline. Understand?”

As the team started to disperse, Jimin and Jungkook exchanged a brief but intense glare, their resentment simmering just under the surface. Neither said a word, knowing full well that every step they took from now on would be closely watched.

Chapter Text

In life, everything came with a price. No success was achieved without effort, not even for those born luckier than others. Luck, after all, wasn’t enough to have success served on a silver platter, even the luckiest had to work for it and at the end you got exactly what you worked for, no more, no less. These were the only truths Jimin firmly believed in.

Hard work and determination could overcome anything—or so Jimin believed. His current position as the captain of the basketball team like this was proof of that. Basketball wasn’t supposed to be for someone like him, a skinny kid who was always the smallest in the group. At least, that’s what everyone had said. But growing up in a home where the walls were plastered with photos of his father holding trophies and wearing championship medals, not dreaming of following in those footsteps would have been impossible.

From the time he could dribble a ball, Jimin had one goal: to become a successful basketball player like his father. Yet his first brutal encounter with the concept of “bad luck” came during the middle school basketball tryouts.

“It’s unfortunate your son takes after his mother,” the coach had said, his voice as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “He’s too small for his age, and his speed is... well, lacking. We’d be honored to have the son of a player like you at our facility, but honestly, it would just be a waste of time for everyone.”

Jimin remembered how the words stung, but even more vivid was the fleeting look of disappointment that flashed across his father’s face. That moment lodged itself deep in his chest like a splinter, small but unshakable, turning into a shadow that followed him wherever he went. It wasn’t just rejection—it was failure in front of the person whose approval he wanted most.

But to Jimin, luck was just a word lazy people used to excuse their failures. Every spare moment he had outside of school was spent pushing himself to the brink. He trained so hard during practices that he sometimes collapsed from exhaustion. Over time, he honed his skills to the point where no one could match his speed.

None of the other team tryouts had ever seen his father show up to support him. But Jimin didn’t let that stop him. Year after year, he kept trying, refusing to give up. Finally, during the summer before high school, his efforts paid off—he was accepted into the junior of the prestigious Busan High School Basketball team.

It didn’t take long for him to make his mark. Despite his small stature and initial struggles, he outworked everyone on the team, rising to become the captain—a position that even some senior players hadn’t achieved.

Was his father proud of him? Not even close to something like these, jimin didn’t know for sure. But at least, except from his recurring nightmares, he no longer saw that haunting look of disappointment in his father’s eyes when they met. And for Jimin, that was enough for now.

This is why his current position meant so much to him. It wasn’t something handed to him by privilege or connections. He’d clawed his way here, step by grueling step, in stark contrast to others who seemed to breeze through life on someone else’s coattails.

He glanced down at his reflection in the polished floor, made mirror, like by nearly forty passes of the mop. Once again, he was wasting his precious time because of that idiot. Just a few months ago, life had been smooth sailing, but now it was an endless loop of fights, curuel penalties, resentment, and simmering rage.

That idiot had waltzed into the school’s basketball team after a mere 15-minute tryout. No effort, no struggle. It was a slap in the face to Jimin’s years of relentless work. The kid didn’t even have a year’s worth of playing experience, yet here he was, sharing the court with someone who had fought tooth and nail for every inch of progress.

Jimin exhaled sharply, frustration still simmering in his chest no matter how hard he tried to shake it off. He shoved the mop ahead of him, making his way to the showers to dump the dirty water. After washing his hands, he meticulously put the cleaning supplies back in the storage cabinets. Cleaning the massive gym was no small task, especially after an intense practice session. His muscles ached with exhaustion, and the thought of having to repeat this after every training made him clench his teeth in frustration.

The faint sounds from the locker room told him Jungkook was still there, finishing up his share of the chore. Jimin had no desire to run into him, so he grabbed his shower bag, slung it over his arm, and quickly stepped into one of the shower stalls. Stripping down, he turned the water on, letting the icy stream hit his skin.

It felt like standing under a burst pipe in the dead of winter, but he welcomed it. He imagined steam rising from his overheated body like a broken-down machine trying to cool itself. The cold water jolted his heart rate, yet it had the oddly calming effect he needed. For a moment, the sound of rushing water drowned out his thoughts, and he let himself enjoy the quiet reprieve.

As Jimin closed his eyes, letting the freezing water numb his overworked body, a faint sound from the adjacent stall made him pause. His head rested against the thin partition between them, and though he told himself he wasn’t listening, every noise seemed amplified in the quiet.

The soft rustle of fabric being removed, the metallic sound of a zipper being undone, it all carried over, weaving into the background of his thoughts. He didn’t know why he was paying attention. Maybe it was the stillness of the empty gym or the adrenaline still coursing through his veins because of the freezing water, but the faint noises from the other side seemed to demand his focus.

When his imagination began painting vivid, unwelcome pictures, Jimin panicked. His hand shot to the faucet, twisting it abruptly to silence the rushing water.

The regret hit him almost instantly. Without the sound of the shower, the entire space fell into an dreadful quiet, broken only by their breathing.

He stood there, frozen, his heart hammering louder than ever- sure it is because of the cold shower. He strained to steady his breath, realizing Jungkook hadn’t even turned on his water yet. The only sound from the other stall was the same, soft, even breathing.

“Jimin…?”

Jimin froze when he heard his name softly echo from the next stall.
Jungkook’s tone carried an odd mix of concern and hesitation, sending an unfamiliar tingling sensation through Jimin’s chest.

“You're okay?” Jungkook asked cautiously. Jimin’s breathing had slowed down somewhat, but the fact that it had been noticed made him curse under his breath. In a panic, he quickly turned the shower back on, breaking the tense silence with the sound of running water. He wasn’t going to answer. Reaching for the body wash, he tried to focus on anything but the growing tension. Yet, the muffled grumbling from the next stall reminded him that Jungkook was still there. Moments later, the sound of water hitting tiles confirmed that Jungkook had stepped into the shower.

Jimin felt like he was losing his mind. His heart was still racing, and his body was responding in ways he couldn’t explain. Panic and frustration bubbled inside him as he tried to compose himself. “Just breathe, calm down, and get out of here,” he thought to himself. But before he could make a move, a low mutter from the adjacent stall made him pause.

“Arrogant bastard. What would you know about kindness anyway?” Jungkook’s voice carried a quiet, simmering anger. Jimin’s brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Who the hell asked you for kindness ?!" Jimin couldn’t stop himself from replying, his voice harsh and full of frustration. Jungkook, surprised at the sudden response, paused, realizing his muttering had been heard.

Both of them, seemingly in sync with their irritation, turned off their showers at the same time. Without thinking, they began to argue, their words bouncing off the thin wall separating them.

The tension between them was palpable, charged with the frustration they’d both been harboring from recent fight. Neither of them could hold back anymore, too much had built up . And now, standing mere inches apart behind the thin barrier, their anger boiled over in a heated exchange, neither willing to back down.

"Look, Jimin, this isn’t how it works, you’re playing dirty. You can’t treat me like this during the trainings just because you're the captain !!"

"Oh, really?!" Jimin asked sarcastically, his voice dripping with disdain and even though jungkook can't see his face, he can imagine the way jimin raise his eyebrows and fleer.

Jungkook, on the other side, gritted his teeth, trying to hold onto his patience.

"Yes, at least ignore me-"

"What, do you think I owe you special treatment? The world doesn’t revolve around you, Jungkook! If you don’t like it, that means you are not suitable for team games so just leave the team. That would honestly be great!" Jimin cut him off, his words sharp and unyielding.

Jungkook’s anger flared up again, the simmering frustration he had been trying to suppress all day suddenly exploding again back to the surface.

Jungkook, just like Jimin, was someone who lost control when angered. Now, all he wanted was to make jimin's life miserable, to see him snap in the same way.

"In your dreams," Jungkook muttered, his voice low with fury.

"Oh, don’t worry, it’ll happen soon enough. Before you embarrass yourself, the committee will realize they made the wrong decision, sooner or later and then I’ll make sure to send you packing. " Jungkook’s teeth clenched so hard, it felt like they might crack under the pressure.

"You’re only captain because you’ve been here before than me. You know that right? If I had transferred here earlier, I’d have been the captain, not you."

"Is that what you're dreaming about all these time, Jungkook?!" Jimin’s mocking tone broke the final thread of reason in Jungkook’s mind.

"I wonder how much your daddy must've begged and paid for you to get on this team. Normally, he wouldn't need to, but for a talentless little dwarf like you, he must've had no choice. Poor guy. " Jungkook's words hit like a slap in the face, each one sharper than the last.

The words hung heavy in the air, filling the gym with a silence so thick it almost suffocated the room. Jungkook didn't stop to think, didn't even filter his thoughts—he was blinded by anger and desperation to hurt Jimin with whatever he could throw at him. And by the way Jimin flinched, Jungkook knew he'd hit a nerve. If he had known just how much that shot landed, he might’ve been taken aback by his own success.

Jimin had always prided himself on his skills and work ethic, but hearing those words, his insecurities, the ones he worked so hard to bury, were suddenly exposed, out in the open. His confidence, carefully constructed and hidden away, now felt fragile, almost nonexistent. And the worst part? It was coming from the one person he least wanted to hear it from—the one person who had no right to question his hardwork when in reality he is the one who does not bring any progress to the table.

The silence between them stretched on, thick and suffocating, before it was broken by a loud thud—the sound of Jimin's fist pounding against the wall. Jungkook tensed, the tension in the air so palpable it made his skin crawl. Then came the sound of the shower door opening, followed by a low, mocking voice.

"If you've got the guts, you'll say it to my face."

Jimin's foot slammed against the door, and Jungkook, heart racing, quickly grabbed his towel, wrapping it around his waist as if the simple act could somehow shield him. But even with the towel clutched tightly, he could feel the pressure building, knowing that the door he was standing in front of was locked, but his mind played tricks, making him feel like Jimin might somehow break through.

Jungkook wasn’t going to back down, though. If Jimin wanted a fight, he'd get one. With determination, he unlatched the door, the sound of the lock clicking echoing in the stillness. He squared up, his eyes locking onto Jimin, but when his gaze landed on the figure in front of him, his own resolve faltered.

Jungkook stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to feel. Jimin, with nothing but the towel loosely hanging around his waist, exuded a quiet yet undeniable power. His wet hair, slicked back with droplets of water cascading down his lean, toned body, glistened in the light. The way his towel hung, barely clinging to his waist, almost as if it would fall at any moment. Jungkook did not question why the very idea is not sickening as much as he would thougt it would.

Jungkook couldn't understand why his stomach churned at the sight, why his confidence seemed to melt away like ice under the burning gaze.

For a second, everything he had built up—the determination, the bravado, the anger—disappeared. His breath hitched as he fought the sudden, inexplicable discomfort. The sharp, annoying twist in his gut reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to dismiss it, but couldn’t.

Jimin, on the other hand, wasn’t backing down. His eyes, burning with intensity, never left Jungkook’s face. It was as if, by diverting his gaze, he might lose the grip on the only thing keeping him grounded in this tense moment. There was something raw, something intoxicating in the way Jimin stared, his silent anger radiating between them, and it made Jungkook's own emotions twist further.

"Now, say it to my face. Talking behind walls doesn’t make you brave," Jimin demanded, his voice sharp and unwavering, daring Jungkook to challenge him.

Jungkook’s smirk deepened, a lazy confidence oozing from him as he tilted his head slightly. "And what makes you so sure I wouldn’t? Since when have I ever been scared of you?" His voice was low, almost a purr, but there was steel behind the words—a deliberate attempt to push Jimin further.

Everything about Jungkook set Jimin’s nerves on edge. The tone of his voice, the smirk playing on his lips, even the way he seemed so casually sure of himself—it all made Jimin’s fingers curl into fists, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

"I know your type—spoiled rich brats," Jungkook spat, his voice a sharp whisper meant to sting.

Jungkook stepped forward, leaning in just enough for his words to graze Jimin’s ears like a challenge. But Jimin wasn’t the type to back down. Misreading the movement as an escalation, he too took a step closer.

Now their toes brushed, their faces inches apart, and their breaths mingled in the charged air. Neither boy flinched, the space between them heavy with unsaid words and unyielding tension.

"Of course, daddy’s little boy asks, and daddy delivers, doesn’t he, Jimin-ah?" Jungkook’s voice was barely above a whisper, low and teasing, but even he didn’t fully understand why he said it—or why he was leaning into this moment. Truthfully, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was even trying to say anymore. The suffocating heat of the bathroom, combined with the proximity of Jimin, left his thoughts scrambled.

His focus locked on the way Jimin’s face gleamed under the steam, every shift in his expression amplified and almost hypnotic. It felt intoxicating, like he couldn’t get enough. The sharp flare of Jimin’s nostrils, the way his jaw tightened, and the subtle flicker of his brows all held him captive. His mind screamed, More.

"Everyone knows how you got into this school, this team..." Jungkook continued, his words slow, deliberate, and cutting. "And how you got to be team captain." His gaze dipped, catching the way Jimin’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists by his sides. Jungkook felt the pull again—that urge to push just a little further, to see how far he could go.

It wasn’t just the words that hooked him, though; it was Jimin’s reactions. They were like oxygen to a flame, and Jungkook was burning for more. His eyes traced the line of Jimin’s neck as a single bead of water traveled from his chin, down the curve of his throat, and disappeared somewhere along his collarbone.

He didn’t mean to stare, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop. His heartbeat quickened as he caught himself lingering too long. The air between them felt suffocating now, not from the steam, but from something else entirely. Something unspoken, heavy, and impossible to ignore.

Before Jungkook even realized what he was doing, his hand reached out, his fingers drawn to the droplet of water sliding down Jimin's neck. The contact was electric—shocking enough to make both of them jolt as if struck by lightning. But Jungkook didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.

The skin beneath his fingers was impossibly soft, warm despite the cool dampness of the water. Without thinking, his thumb began to trace slow circles over the curve of Jimin’s neck, while the rest of his fingers settled firmly at the base of his nape. It was a motion far too intimate for what had started as a heated argument. Jungkook inhaled deeply, the faint scent of shampoo and something uniquely Jimin clouding his already hazy mind. He didn’t even notice Jimin’s stillness, his utter lack of response. If he had looked up, he might have seen the wide, shocked eyes staring back at him, or the way Jimin’s chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths.

"You claim to be a good captain," Jungkook murmured, his voice dropping lower, like he was sharing a secret meant only for them. His thumb paused but didn’t leave Jimin’s skin. "But if you knew the things the team and the others say about you behind your back..." His lips twisted into a bitter smirk. "Trust me, you wouldn’t want to hear it. You actually thought they were your friends?"

Jungkook’s words were venomous, meant to sting, but they weren’t entirely untrue. And Jimin knew it. He had long since learned not to mistake the fake smiles and forced sincerity for genuine friendship. Jimin wasn't the type to plaster fake smiles everywhere, acting overly friendly to everyone only to roll his eyes the moment their backs were turned. He just couldn’t bring himself to fake it, not even when he knew his teammates preferred that kind of behaviors. He’d rather face their disfavor than embrace the insincerity he despised. Still, hearing it said aloud, in Jungkook’s infuriatingly steady voice, made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

But the worst part wasn’t what Jungkook was saying. It was the hand on his neck, the gentle pressure of fingers that were far too at odds with the venom spilling from his lips. It was the way that touch made Jimin feel entirely out of control, as if his body was responding to something his brain couldn’t fully comprehend. He hated it—hated how it made his breath hitch, hated how it made his skin tingle under Jungkook’s fingers. But most of all, he hated that he didn’t move to stop it.

Jungkook’s words, combined with the lingering warmth of his hand on Jimin’s neck, sent a wave of heat rushing through him so intense it felt as though his ability to think had been scorched away. His chest tightened, his pulse pounding in his ears like a war drum.

"I deserve to be captain more than you ever will," Jungkook said, his voice low and laced with venom. "And you'll see it soon enough when I get picked for a big league team, while you're still stuck here in the same lineup. Because big leagues don’t give a damn about who your father is."Jungkook muttered, his voice dripping with conviction. As the final words left his lips, his gaze finally lifted from Jimin’s neck to his face. The look he found there—the fury, the defiance, and something darker beneath it—was enough to snap him out of whatever spell had been cast.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the damp air around them. His hand slid from Jimin’s neck to his shoulder, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Before he could stop himself, he shoved Jimin away with enough force to create a solid gap between them. Jimin stumbled back a step but managed to regain his balance quickly, his expression unchanged. It wasn’t relief or satisfaction that crossed Jungkook’s face as he saw the distance between them; it was something closer to regret, but he shoved the feeling aside as quickly as it surfaced.

However, the space between them didn’t last long. Jimin surged forward, closing the gap with purpose, his movements fueled by something he couldn’t fully name. There was a strange satisfaction in seeing Jungkook falter, even for a moment, his expression betraying his surprise. It gave Jimin the slightest sense of control in a situation where he otherwise felt completely unmoored.

Jimin didn’t stop until their chests nearly collided, their damp, bare skin brushing together, sending sparks skittering up his spine. His dark eyes bore into Jungkook’s with unwavering intensity, refusing to blink, refusing to look away. If Jungkook thought he could intimidate him, he was sorely mistaken. Whatever this was between them—anger, rivalry, or something far more dangerous—Jimin wasn’t backing down. Not now. Not ever.

When Jimin noticed Jungkook flinch at the press of their chests and try to step back, he reacted instinctively, grabbing hold of his arm to keep him in place.

"If believing that I’m here by some stroke of luck helps you forget your own failures, then go ahead, Jungkook," he said, his voice low but steady. "Think whatever you want. I don’t care."

Jimin tilted his head back slightly, drawing even closer as he spoke, his words deliberate and measured, ensuring every syllable landed. He needed Jungkook to understand that he wouldn’t dignify those accusations with even the barest hint of defense. Let him think what he wanted. Let him cling to those delusions. They meant nothing to him.

Or at least, that’s what Jimin told himself. Deep down, he knew these weren’t just Jungkook’s thoughts. They belonged to half the school—maybe more. Once, a long time ago, he’d fought to change that narrative, to prove himself against the quiet whispers and sharp stares. But some battles were unwinnable, and Jimin had learned that the hard way.

And yet, what truly caught him off guard wasn’t hearing those tired accusations hurled directly at his face—it was the realization that his heart, which he’d thought had turned to stone long ago, could still crack under the weight of them. The dull ache that settled in his chest was unexpected, unwanted, and infuriating.

Jungkook’s stunned expression, just inches away, was impossible to miss. Jimin told himself it was from the words, not his proximity, though some small part of him hoped it was both.

It felt as though they were standing in a sauna, their bodies slick with water, droplets clinging to Jungkook's lashes. Jimin found himself scrutinizing every detail of his face up close—his sharp jawline, the curve of his lips, the way his damp hair clung to his forehead. He’d seen Jungkook’s face at close range before, during their heated skirmishes with fists flying, but this was different. For the first time, there was no violent intent driving their proximity, no tension-filled threats lingering in the air. It was quiet—or as quiet as it could be in the humid space that wrapped around them.

The tingling in Jimin’s hands and the knot tightening in his stomach intensified. He had no idea why.

“But you know what?” Jimin began, voice dripping with venom. “I just pity losers like you. Parasites who blame everything on the wealth they weren’t born into.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting in return—a fist to the jaw, maybe, or a solid kick to the gut. The distance was close enough for Jungkook to headbutt him if he wanted. But Jungkook didn’t move. He stood there, utterly still, his wide-eyed stare locked on Jimin like he was caught in some trance. Can not read any emotion.

The disappointment that bloomed in Jimin’s chest shocked him. How could he possibly feel let down by Jungkook refusing to retaliate? It didn’t make sense, but the longer Jungkook remained silent and motionless, the more Jimin’s frustration swelled. His teeth clenched, anger rippling through him.

Finally, he slammed his palms against Jungkook’s damp chest, pushing him back with a sharp force. The impact wasn’t enough to make Jungkook stumble, but it left Jimin’s hands buzzing, his emotions raging.

Still, Jungkook gave him nothing. No anger. No reaction. Just that same unrelenting stare.

It was too much. With one last glare, Jimin spun on his heel and stormed out of the showers, leaving Jungkook alone in the misty space. His rapid footsteps echoed behind him, the sound swallowed by the hiss of distant water running in one of the stall

Chapter Text

The dark-haired boy spotted his friend after half an hour of searching, standing outside one of the rookie dance studio. Jungkook, with a faint smile, leaned in to kiss the cheek of the short-haired girl before sending her off into her classroom. Taehyung watched silently as Jungkook's face transformed from a soft grin to a tired, almost exasperated expression once the girl disappeared into the room.

Noticing Taehyung waiting for him in the corridor, Jungkook let out a sigh before walking over to his friend.

"Let's go," Jungkook muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. Taehyung nodded, and the two began walking side by side down the corridor. The girls nearby couldn’t help but stare in admiration, their eyes following the pair as they walked with an air of effortless confidence. It wasn’t every day they saw their seniors in their part of the school, and the sight of Jungkook and Taehyung together left more than a few hearts racing.

"What happened to Julia? Your speed of moving on with girls is honestly terrifying!" Taehyung asked, raising an eyebrow as Jungkook's expression hardened.

"julia? " Jungkook replied, his brows knitting together in confusion. " Who the hell is Julia...?"

Taehyung stared at him in shock, now turning to walk backward so he could fully face his friend.

"The girl who cheated on Jimin with you. You know, the one who got you punched in the middle of the hallway by him." Taehyung’s shocked expression taken aback. "Though technically, I’m not even sure it counts as cheating... anyway it’s wild how quickly you moved on and even forget her name? And btw who’s this new girl? Does not look familiar?"

Jungkook’s blank, emotionless expression returned as soon as Julia’s face surfaced in his mind. His eyes shifted back to Taehyung, completely unfazed by his friend’s interrogation.

“I had nothing to do with that girl actually.” Jungkook replied nonchalantly. “I just asked her to break up with Jimin, and she did. I didn’t promise her anything beyond that, but I guess she misunderstood.”

In truth, Jungkook had blocked her number shortly after the infamous fight because her constant calls and messages had become unbearable. It was a matter long forgotten in his mind.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was stunned by what he’d just heard, still trying to process it. Like everyone else at school, he’d believed the rumors. But apparently, there hadn’t been any cheating at all.

“All you wanted was to mess with Jimin, huh?” Taehyung’s words made the corner of Jungkook’s lips curl into a smirk. The memory of Jimin’s expression in the hallway that day still lingered vividly in his mind, bringing him a twisted sense of satisfaction. However, his amusement dimmed slightly when he noticed Taehyung’s troubled face.

“Don’t be so dramatic! I just riled him up a little, that’s all. It’s not like he was going to marry her,” Jungkook said, nudging Taehyung’s arm with his elbow. " Maybe I even did him a favor by showing how unfaintful the person he was dating. See! not that bad right!" Jungkook continued mockingly.

Taehyung’s protective attitude toward Jimin sometimes grated on his nerves.

“Jungkook, I’m so tired of this endless stupid feud between you two,” Taehyung said with an exasperated sigh. “I can’t have a single peaceful day. You’re both my closest friends, but it’s always fighting and chaos. I’m exhausted from cleaning up after the two of you. Just stop this childish nonsense already.”

"Go tell all this to your precious Jimin. Every practice feels like hell because of him, but since he’s the captain, I can’t say a word," Jungkook snapped angrily. For the past two weeks, every single practice had been a nightmare, thanks to Jimin. And yet, Jungkook hadn’t been able to throw a single punch at the shorter boy. With the important match coming up, risking an injury was out of the question—plus, there was Coach Minho who not leave his eyes on them.

As a result, their usual physical fights had shifted to sharp remarks, insults, and annoyingly childish provocations. Unfortunately for Jungkook, this also meant he hadn’t been able to properly vent his frustrations in two whole weeks. He was like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode.

After practices, they silently cleaned their respective areas and left without a word—a mutual agreement not to escalate things further. But every time Jungkook thought about what had happened in the shower —about every fifteen minutes, to be precise—he felt... strange. Something he couldn’t quite place gnawed at him, leaving him restless.

"Two days left until the match, right? Jimin was already on edge this morning. This match is really important to him. He’s a bit of a perfectionist, you know. He’s hard on himself too, not just on you," Taehyung said thoughtfully. He could see how stressed Jimin had been lately better than anyone. Even if he couldn’t fully grasp the weight Jimin was carrying, he could feel it. Jimin was like a closed book, even to Taehyung, but after four years of friendship, Taehyung had learned to read him, even when he didn’t open up.

"It’s important to me too! It’s important to all of us!" Jungkook snapped, his voice full of frustration. "This could be our last chance to play in Seoul and get scouted for a good team. And guess who doesn’t have any other chance? Me! Not your privileged, well-connected friend!" His anger flared as the memory of the conversation he’d had with Jimin in the shower came rushing back. He know he is condradict with himself. Even tough he believes leages teams care about talents more than anything, he don't know why he thinks jimin had more change to enter a dream team than him in the deep down. He thought that way about the future maybe because of his past unfortunate experiences or maybe because of something else .

But remembiring jimins last words boiled is already feral blood even possible more.

Nobody’s going to take an almost 18-year-old into a youth team. And getting into the upper league teams without coming through the youth system? Impossible, he again feel bitter for his lost year as always. Jungkook muttered bitterly, his hands clenching into fists.

"This is Jimin’s last two term at the school. You still have another term ahead of you!" Taehyung argued, trying to reason with him. "And Jimin’s family is buried in debt. What kind of connections are you even talking about?" He gave Jungkook a searching look, trying to figure

"Why does it matter!? Wasn’t his dad a famous basketball player back in the day? I’m sure there’s not a single upper league team his dad couldn’t get him into. I don’t get why he’s so worried," Jungkook said, his voice thick with frustration. His assumptions were fueled by the gossip around school and Jimin’s arrogant, condescending behavior that seemed to justify everything the whispers claimed.

Taehyung hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering over to the curious eyes of the others. Finally, he sighed and decided to continue.

"Jungkook... I’m not sure if I should be telling you this, but..." Taehyung’s words trailed off as he weighed whether to share what he knew. After a pause, he continued.

"Jimin’s relationship with his dad isn’t how you think. I’ve never heard him talk about his dad. Whenever the topic comes up, he immediately tries to change it. I’ve never once seen his dad at one of Jimin’s matchs or not even at medal ceremonies. Everyone else’s families would show up, even substitude players families, but I’ve never seen Jimin’s family there in whole four year."

Jungkook’s mind conjured an image of Jimin standing alone among his teammates, who were all celebrating their victories with their families. His chest tightened slightly at the thought. He had spent years trying to convince his own family not to come to even his practices for cheering and embarrass him the whole time, while Jimin apparently didn’t even have that option.

"I probably shouldn’t have told you this. Just forget it," Taehyung said, exhaling in frustration. "I just wanted you to know that Jimin doesn’t have any special privileges."

Taehyung knew Jungkook well—knew the kind-hearted, affectionate kid he had grown up with. But he didn’t trust this new Jungkook, the one who had made Jimin his sworn rival. They had hurt each other too many times, each waiting for an opportunity to strike. Still, Taehyung decided to trust his friend, even if part of him hesitated.

"That spoiled brat doesn’t matter to me," Jungkook scoffed, forcing indifference as he shrugged his shoulders. "As long as he stays out of my way."

After finishing their lunch in the cafeteria, the two had spent the remainder of their break in a casual volleyball match. However, Jungkook had left early—there were things he needed to take care of before the break ended.

He moved quickly toward the art studio.
Afternoon classes were a strange contradiction for him. The school’s curriculum balanced sports training with mandatory academics and the arts, and while most athletes begrudgingly attended their art classes, Jungkook secretly enjoyed them. There was something calming about working with his hands, creating something that wasn’t just about physical strength.

But then there was Park Jimin.

Jungkook might have loved art, but Jimin was the one thing that made these classes unbearable. If he wasn’t already forced to endure him during training sessions, he also had to put up with him here, in a space where students from different disciplines were mixed together. Unlike in the gym, where Jungkook could drown out his irritation with movement, the art studio offered no such escape. Jimin was always there—always polished, always precise, and always the center of attention.

The worst part? It wasn’t even intentional.

Jungkook had once tried taking piano lessons, but after witnessing the way their instructor treated Jimin like he was Mozart reincarnated, he had quit without hesitation. The literature club had been no better—it might as well have been renamed "The Jimin Fan Club" for all the shameless admiration that took place there. He didn’t even bother walking past the room anymore.

But painting—painting was different.

Jungkook refused to give it up, no matter how unbearable Jimin’s presence could be. Unlike other classes, the studio had rules. No overexcited admirers, no unnecessary noise—just quiet concentration. It was the one place where he could enjoy his work without interruption.

And, most importantly, he was convinced that he was better at it than Jimin.

Reaching the studio, he paused for a moment outside the door, peering through the glass panel. The room was empty, just as he’d hoped. In fifteen minutes, students would start arriving, but until then, he had time.

Stepping inside, he made his way to a familiar table—the one Jimin always used. His gaze flickered over the neatly arranged art supplies, the set of oil paints, and the collection of brushes that looked as though they had never even been used. Jungkook scoffed. Of course, Jimin would be the type to obsessively clean his brushes after every session. Meanwhile, Jungkook’s own workspace looked like a crime scene of smeared paint and forgotten sketches. The way it should be.

Smirking to himself, he reached out, fingers grazing the perfect row of brushes. A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes.

He crouched down, scanning the canvases stacked under Jimin’s desk. Some were unfinished, others looked complete. He had no idea which one Jimin planned to submit for the final exhibition—and frankly, he didn’t care.

What mattered was the one he was looking at now.

It was a landscape, fully rendered and meticulously detailed—clearly something Jimin had spent hours, maybe even weeks, perfecting. It was almost too perfect. A little too pristine. Which made it the perfect target.

Jungkook hesitated for only a fraction of a second before pulling a small bottle from his bag. As he uncapped it and poured the liquid over the canvas, the paint began to dissolve instantly, colors bleeding into each other in chaotic streaks. He pressed his lips together, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt. Just a little. It was a waste, he had to admit.

But then he pictured Jimin’s face when he saw this—when he realized his precious painting was ruined beyond repair. That image alone made any hesitation vanish.

Grabbing a cloth, Jungkook smeared the half-dissolved paint together, twisting what was once a carefully crafted scene into an unrecognizable mess.

He knew what he was doing was petty. Childish, even.

But he didn’t care.

Jimin deserved this.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks of relentless drills, silent glares, passive-aggressive commands. Training had been hell. And because of that damn upcoming match, he hadn't even been able to get into a proper fight with Jimin to let off some steam.

His hands clenched into fists. His nerves were still on edge, itching for release.

Over the past few days, Jungkook had tried everything to get under Jimin’s skin to get a fight that he can not dare to initiate or just any reaction fro him.

He’d attempted to tamper with the piano Jimin was responsible for, but for some reason, the room had always been locked—almost as if it knew about his revenge plans. He had swapped Jimin’s exam paper, tossed his spare sneakers into the back garden, and even maneuvered things so that the gym cleaning duties fell on Jimin more often than not.

But none of it had worked.

After what had happened in the showers, Jimin had simply chosen to ignore him. Either that or he was too busy barking out orders at practice to bother retaliating.

Jungkook grinned as he gazed at the ruined painting before him. Oh, this would get a reaction. There was no way Jimin wouldn’t snap when he saw this.

For the finishing touch, he dipped his fingers into the smeared mess of paint and scrawled JK across the last clean corner of the canvas. He wanted there to be no doubt. Jimin needed to know exactly who had done this.

Satisfied, he slid the painting back into the pile, making sure it blended in.

Just as he was about to leave, something else caught his eye.

Beneath the desk, separate from the others, was a neatly wrapped canvas. The way the paper was folded—sharp, precise—screamed Jimin.

Jungkook hesitated. Then, curiosity won out.

He crouched down, grabbed the canvas, and placed it on the desk. Carefully, he peeled away the paper.

The moment the portrait beneath was revealed, his expression darkened.

His jaw clenched, brows pulling together in a tight frown. A hot, irrational anger coursed through his veins, clouding his mind before he could even register why.

His fists curled at his sides, nails digging into his palms.

He didn’t know what he was angry about. Or why.

All he knew was that he wanted to destroy it.

It was a portrait of Julia.

Painstakingly detailed, beautifully drawn—Jimin had clearly poured his time and effort into it. But it was unfinished. The background remained blank, and below the girl’s shoulders, only a few colors had been blocked in.

Jungkook didn’t know why it made him so angry.

He didn’t want to think about it.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the remaining liquid mixture and poured it over the canvas, watching as the colors began to blur and melt together. He pressed his palm against the wet paint, smearing and distorting the once-delicate features.

But it wasn’t enough, his fingers twitching with the urge to do more.

Before he even realized it, he had dug his nails into the canvas, tearing into it. The fabric gave way with a harsh rip, jagged slashes ruining the once-pristine surface.

With a sharp breath, he shoved the ruined painting back under the desk, as if it had never been touched.

Snatching up his bag, he bolted from the classroom, his pulse hammering in his ears.

The difference between the way he had entered the studio and the way he left was terrifying.

His fingers trembled as he pulled out his phone. Without hesitating, he opened his messaging app, scrolled down, and unblocked a number.

+82999....
Sorry for the fight earlier
I’m sure Jimin will be fine with it.
Seen
16days ago

Wanna grab coffee tomorrow?
Seen
Hey, you’re not gonna answer?
What’s up? I don’t get it.
Seen
14days ago

Do you want to come over tonight?
We could watch a movie??
Seen
12days ago

Are you going to ignore me like that?
Seriously?
What’s wrong with you?
Jungkook-ah
Seen
11days ago

Sorry for texting at this hour
I couldn’t sleep.
Do you want to meet up?
You can come over too
Seen
9 days ago

You're the worst
I get that you're busy
but you could’ve at least texted back
Can I at least come to watch your practice?
Seen

This user has been blocked.
today
Block removed.

Jungkook
srry for not replying
been crazy busy.
u not coming to practice today?
wanna see u ;)

+82999....
not sure…

Jungkook
c’mon… why are you saying that?
dont worry about jimin
Seen
Come on
you gotta cheer for me
I’m low on motivation and our match is in two days

+82999....
you’re just inviting me to practice like nothing happened?
like you did not ignore me this whole time

Jungkook
I told just youI
was super busy!
But seriously, why would I ignore you?
I make it up to you?after practise
how about that?

+82999....
well
ok
Seen

After reading the last message, Jungkook quickly put his phone back in his pocket. Something inside him started to stir, but for some reason, it didn’t make him feel any better. He was sure he knew what would trigger Jimin from now on, but somehow that knowledge didn’t give him any satisfaction. Instead, there was an emptiness inside him; he didn’t feel any better at all.

Chapter Text

The final practice before the highly anticipated match felt less like a rehearsal and more like a brutal trial by fire—filled with blood, sweat, and barely restrained frustration.

The moment Jimin stormed into the gym, practically seething with rage, the entire team fell into an uneasy silence. No one dared to speak. No one dared to question. They simply fell in line, following their captain’s commands without hesitation, as if sensing that the slightest misstep might set off an explosion.

The other ticking time bomb to join practice, of course, was Jungkook. And today, the deadly glares exchanged between him and Jimin found a new, unfortunate target. Sitting on the bench, the long-haired girl shifted uncomfortably, questioning every life choice that had led her to this moment.

Julia could understand why the guy she had break up without an explanation was shooting daggers at her, but Jungkook’s reaction made no sense. Why was he glaring at both of them every time her eyes met Jimin’s ball of fire? He was the one who had begged Julia to come and support him at practice, after all.

The girl shrugged. The idea that she was the cause of all this tension stroked her ego—but really, it wasn’t her fault she was this captivating. Julia was the kind of girl who naturally became the center of attention wherever she went. She decided to ignore it. After all, the two on the court had been caught in some unexplained rivalry for quite a while now.

She sighed bleakly as she watched her ex-boyfriend barking orders across the court. Julia had genuinely liked Jimin, who wouldn’t? She’d been the one to ask him out, after all. In the beginning, everything had been perfect. They were the perfect high school couple: sweet, compatible, the kind everyone secretly envied.

But no matter how hard she tried, Julia had never felt as close to Jimin as she wanted to be , nor physically, nor emotionally.

Sure, he held her hand, took her on dates, bought her little gifts, and made sure she got home safely, always leaving a kiss on her lips before saying goodbye. Yet, something was missing. It was as if Jimin was checking off boxes on a list of boyfriend duties, playing a part he’d memorized to perfection.

He was with her, but he never truly felt there.

When Julia asked for more, Jimin turned her down with that damn politeness of his.

Then, when the new school year started, things only got worse. His training schedule became even more intense, his family situation—though he never talked about it—seemed far from perfect, and then, of course, there was the Jungkook factor.

Julia started to feel completely neglected. They had dated for six months, but in her mind, the last few barely even counted.

Lately, it seemed like Jimin was either fighting with Jungkook, serving detention with Jungkook, or being so pissed because of Jungkook that even on their rare, painstakingly planned dates, all he did was vent about how much he hated him.

Julia had gotten so fed up with the situation that, at one point, she snapped:

"You’re not gonna shut up about Jungkook, are you? You spend more time on him than you do on me."

Now, sitting on the bench, she found herself questioning the day she decided to break up with Jimin.

Did Jimin ever love me?

Do Jungkook actually really interested in me?

"Don’t you think you deserve better than Jimin? Just break up with him."

What the hell did that even mean? Had she misread everything?

Ever since she walked into the gym, Jungkook had barely spared her more than a few minutes. He still ignored her messages, barely acknowledged her existence. It felt like he only paid attention to her when Jimin was around.

As Julia exhaled in frustration, lost in her thoughts, a sudden uproar from the court snapped her back to reality.

"Pass the damn ball properly!"
"And if I don’t? What are you gonna do about it?"
"I swear, I’ll make you regret being fucking born."
"Oh yeah? Try it and see what happen brat."

Before anyone could react, the two were already in each other’s faces, tension crackling between them.

Their teammates jumped in, grabbing their arms to keep them apart. The entire gym went silent, everyone watching, waiting to see who would throw the first punch.

The two glared at each other, practically vibrating with rage, straining against the hands holding them back. Neither was willing to back down, spitting out insults between clenched teeth. The tension was suffocating, heavy enough to fill the entire gym. Even their eye contact felt like a battle—neither willing to be the first to look away.

"Coach will be here soon! Separate them now!"

A familiar voice from the sidelines snapped the team into action. With gritted teeth, they struggled to drag the two apart, forcing them to opposite ends of the court.

Taehyung, breathless from the effort, leaned in just enough for only those on the court to hear.

"Are you both out of your minds! Don't make the coach any angrier. Are you planning to injure each other before the match? Get it together!"

After a few tense seconds, it was Jimin who broke eye contact first, exhaling sharply as he tried to calm himself.

He barely recognized himself anymore. When had he become this impulsive? As the captain, the weight of his responsibilities hit him again, making him realize just how much he needed to keep it together—not just for himself, but for the team.

Jungkook was in a completely different state of mind than him. The game? the team? these were the least of his concerns. His hands still tingled, aching with the need to touch Jimin. It was almost a record. Since they’d met, they’d never gone this long without a fight. And now, it had been two weeks. The frustration, the anger—it was building up, and there was only one way to release it: Punching Jimin. At least, that’s what he thought.

Yeah, he thought to himself. All I need is a good fight.

Because seeing Jimin’s face twist in anger still didn’t feel satisfying enough. He had destroyed his paintings, tarnished his perfect image, stolen his dearie girlfriend and putting on his face to got every reaction he’d hoped for. But it still wasn’t enough. Jimin needed to fight back, he should give him something more.

But when it came to revenge, Jimin wasn’t the most creative. He had two weapons: his sharp tongue or his fist—most of the time, he preferred one of them.

But Jungkook always found himself demanding more from Jimin each time. Even now, the fact that Jimin had broken eye contact with him left him frustrated. He yanked his arms free from the grip, his teeth clenched in irritation. Jimin was already walking away, heading toward the locker room. Without wasting another second, Jungkook followed, pushing past Taehyung, who tried to block him, and entered the locker room after Jimin.

The lights were off. The only illumination came from the moonlight streaming through a thin window high up, barely reaching eye level. Hearing footsteps behind him, Jungkook slammed the door shut in anger and locked it.

Jimin stood with his back to Jungkook, caught between two lockers, trying to steady his breath. Jungkook, also out of breath from the tension, stared at Jimin’s back as it rose and fell with each breath.

"Guess running away’s become a habit for you, huh?" Jungkook said, waiting for a reaction. In the meantime, Taehyung and Jaemin, who had been standing outside the door, had decided that the two wouldn’t fight and went back to the field. They would’ve been proven wrong if they had stayed, though, because just as Jimin threw his gym bag to the floor, he slammed his fist into one of the metal lockers beside him.

Jungkook flinched at the sudden movement, his eyes widening as the metal locker bent inward, the imprint of Jimin’s fist leaving a dent.

With a deliberate slowness that sent a chill down Jungkook's spine, Jimin turned to face him. "I’m wasting my energy to hold back, for what? nothing. You come all the way here just to getting beat up by me?" he said, his voice low and biting.

Jungkook felt a cold rush, as if an ice-cold shower had been poured over him. He realized, as the space between them closed, that the adrenaline he had been chasing for days had finally started to course through his veins. His lips curled into a slow smile, and his legs trembled with anticipation.

Jungkook took a step closer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're not fooling anyone. You might think you're holding back, but you are just chicken out ." The two of them were now standing face-to-face between the lockers, their noses nearly touching. Jungkook couldn't help but observe Jimin's face, glowing with a mix of sweat and moonlight, sharp features reflecting the tension that hung in the air. It looked like Jimin was indeed doing everything he could to hold himself back, his breath shallow and fast.

"Come on," he said again, the urgency in his voice rising. "We're alone here. No one to stop you. You don't need to hold back."

"I won’t give you what you want. Not today." Jimin lifted his chin, trying to ignore the height difference, his eyes locked onto Jungkook's face.His breathing had quickened, and Jungkook could feel it—his own body reacting involuntarily.

"Come on, you know we both need this." A jolt of heat shot through Jungkook, and as he tried to control his hands, he realized just how hard it was to restrain himself now. He was getting closer to his goal, just a little more to push the tension further, to set off the explosion he had been craving. He shifted impatiently, the air thick with anticipation.

Jungkook's voice was a low, taunting whisper, carrying a dangerous edge. "Why not? or Didn't you like the gifts I left you?" He watched Jimin’s face closely, noting how every muscle tightened, how his jaw clenched by implication of his ruined canvas and might ruined relationship. There was something strangely satisfying about it,too satisfying, perhaps. It shouldn’t feel this way, but there he was, drinking in the tension like it was the only thing that made sense.

Either It was not normal that even the punches he received in quick succession were making him feel good . In fact, for the first time in days, it felt the best. The sting was sharp, but strangely comforting, a reminder of everything he was losing control of.

As the familiar warmth of blood dripped down his nose, Jungkook felt himself snapping back to life, every inch of him heightened with the rush. Before Jimin could make another move, Jungkook seized him, grabbing his collar with a brutal grip and slamming his back against the cold metal locker.

The impact made the air in his lungs hitch. Their faces were mere inches apart again, both of them breathing heavily, locked in an intensity that neither could pull away from. The world around them faded—nothing but the heat, the challenge, the unspoken words between them.

"I hate you, you piece of shit!!" Jimin hissed his breath hitching, his voice a harsh whisper between clenched teeth. Yet, despite the chaos in his mind, Jungkook heard every word with startling clarity.

"Tell me about it! " The taller one whispered, his breath brushing against Jimin's lips.

Jimin, no longer struggling against Jungkook's hold, simply stared into his face, frozen in place.

"I'am gonna kill you one day! "

Jungkook, almost in a trance, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the red, full lips that whispered those final words. The sentence sent a surge of heat through his veins, his body twisting with an intensity he couldn't control.

Jungkook didn’t give himself a moment to process the screams echoing in his mind. All he knew now was that Jimin’s punches no longer sufficed. His thoughts screamed more, and the weight of it was beginning to overwhelm him. In a frenzy, a wild thought flickered through his mind, and within seconds, he discarded the last shred of logic.

Every cell in his body screamed for something they had never experienced before—those lips. As if instinct itself took over, Jungkook lunged forward.

Their lips met with such intensity that it felt as though Jimin's head might leave an imprint on the cabinet behind him.

The initial contact was electrifying, sending a shockwave through his entire body. He trembled from head to toe, the ache in his stomach that he had struggled to suppress for so long now surging downward, pooling in his lower abdomen. He let his instincts take over, the fist he had clenched in hesitation slowly unfurling.

With a fierce grip, he captured the shorter one's upper lip, sucking on it with a desperate urgency. His hands, now loosened, moved unconsciously from the other's collar to their neck, as if trying to pull them even closer. He pressed Jimin's face against his own, craving proximity, intimacy—anything to bridge the gap between them.

He was oblivious to the shorter one's lack of response, entirely consumed by the sensation of their lips crushed between his, lost in the heat of the moment.

When he bit down on the lower lip, he finally heard a soft moan escape the other. What happened next sent fireworks exploding in Jungkook’s mind—Jimin began to respond.

But this wasn’t a tender kiss; it was as raw as Jungkook's, fueled by the anger and hatred they had been harboring for so long. Every press of their lips, every bite, every gasp was a release of the tension that had been building between them.

Jungkook's eyelids fluttered. He had kissed before—too many times, perhaps. Different girls, different places. But this was entirely different. This was the kind of kiss that made you forget how to breathe, a collision of emotions so intense it felt like they were trying to destroy each other, to drain every ounce of resentment into this one moment.

When Jimin pressed into him harder, kissing him with a fierceness that took him by surprise, an involuntary moan slipped past his lips.

This time, it was Jimin who took the lead, capturing his upper lip, and Jungkook tilted his head to the side, reciprocating by sucking gently on Jimin’s lower lip.

As Jimin’s hands reached up to cradle his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, a shiver of electricity shot down his spine, leaving him trembling. It was as if they were trying to carve their resentment into each other, to let casuse a explosion in the fire of this desperate, angry kiss.

They pulled apart for just a second, only to crash back together with even more desperation, their lips meeting with a hunger that seemed insatiable.

Jungkook noticed the moment Jimin began to run out of breath, his movements slowing, his body trembling. Fearing that Jimin might pull away, Jungkook pressed his face closer, his hands cradling Jimin’s jaw as he sucked gently on the corner of his lips, giving him just enough space to breathe. But even then, his touch was firm, almost possessive, as if he were marking him.

He sucked so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise, a dark reminder of this moment.

When Jungkook finally pulled back slightly, just enough to catch his own breath, Jimin’s eyes fluttered open. The boy in front of him was panting heavily now, his gaze locked onto Jungkook’s with an intensity that made his chest tighten.

Jimin stared into those bright, piercing eyes for a few seconds longer, his own lips already a deep, crimson red, swollen and glistening. As he ran his tongue over his own lips, tasting the remnants of their kiss, they both lunged forward at the same time, drawn together like magnets.

This time, Jungkook began to hungrily devour the other’s full lips, refusing to let Jimin take control. Jimin’s hands fell to Jungkook’s shoulders, gripping them tightly as he tilted his head slightly to the right, deepening the kiss.

When the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, he was too far gone to even wonder whose it was. His entire being was focused on one thing—the lips pressed against his own. His mind had gone blank, all his blood rushing south, leaving him lightheaded and consumed by the moment.

When they broke apart for a few seconds, Jungkook saw the same determined, passionate expression mirrored on Jimin’s face.

Their lips were just about to meet again when the sound of beat on the door froze them in place.

For a moment, they stood there, paralyzed, their hearts pounding in unison. But the voice of their coach echoing through the room snapped them back to reality. In a panic, Jimin shoved Jungkook hard against the cabinets across from them, putting as much distance between them as possible.

Their trance broke at the same moment, reality crashing back in like a tidal wave. Jungkook barely managed to steady himself, gripping the edge of the cabinet for support as their wide, startled eyes met for a brief second. Both of them were still gasping for air, their chests heaving, the weight of what had just happened hanging heavily between them.

consciousness overtook Jimin’s frame as he quickly grabbed his sports bag from where it had been thrown earlier. His eyes, still clouded and unfocused, darted back to Jungkook, who stood frozen, his face a mask of shock, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Without a word, Jimin rushed to the door, unlocked it, and slipped out without leaving so much as a crack behind. As Jimin walked away with their coach, who was blissfully unaware, Jungkook remained in the locker room, rooted to the spot, trying to make sense of just what happened and the chaos that had just unfolded.

Chapter Text

When match day finally arrived, the gymnasium of Busan High was buzzing with energy. The stands were packed with students and spectators, their cheers echoing through the spacious hall. Some waved banners bearing the names of their favorite players, while others chanted slogans in support of their teams. In stark contrast, the teachers and judges seated in the protocol section remained silent, their expressions serious and observant. Even members of the press had arrived, setting up cameras and equipment to broadcast the event on a local channel of neighborhood.

Though the home team had the advantage of familiar surroundings, the Incheon team had also brought a sizable crowd of supporters, their presence adding to the electric atmosphere. As the players made their final preparations in the locker room, Coach Minho and subalterns darted back and forth, meticulously reviewing strategies and addressing last-minute concerns. His voice carried a mix of urgency and encouragement as he spoke to his team, ensuring they were mentally and physically ready for the challenge ahead.

Jungkook sat on the edge of one of the wooden benches near the lockers, pulling on his socks. He was tense, as he always was before a match, but there was also a sweet undercurrent of excitement. After all, he was about to do what he did best, play the game he loved.

As he stood to grab his shoes from the locker, his eyes landed on the one with the faint imprint of Jimin’s fist still visible on its surface. The memories of last night came rushing back, flooding his mind as if they’d never left. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, and cleared it, trying to shake off the unease. His mouth and throat felt like a desert, parched and tight. Without wasting another second, he walked over to the water bottles placed near the door, desperate for relief.

From across the room, the boy who had been watching him, Jimin,stirred abruptly, his movements sharp and deliberate as Jungkook passed by.

Jimin quickly took the bottle that Jungkook was reaching for. He didn’t stop until he’d drained half the bottle, his throat working as he swallowed. Only then did he turn to face Jungkook, his expression unreadable but intense. The look in his eyes was enough to set Jungkook’s nerves on edge. Refusing to back down, Jungkook held his gaze and reached for another water bottle, his movements deliberate.The tension between them was palpable, unspoken but heavy, lingering in the air like a storm waiting to break since that evening.

After glancing over at the coach to make sure they weren’t being watched, Jimin took a step closer, his voice low but sharp. "If I see you mess up even once today, I’ll make your life on this team a living hell." The unexpected threat caught Jungkook off guard, leaving him momentarily stunned. It took him a few seconds to process the words, to piece together what they meant.

Nothing had changed. Jimin was still the same arrogant jerk he’d been two days ago, still seething with the same hatred for Jungkook. He was still the same Jimin, and that realization hit Jungkook like a punch to the gut.

It was clear now that what had happened between them the previous night would remain confined to that moment, buried and ignored. Though unspoken, every gesture, every look from Jimin carried that underlying message loud and clear.

"Your motivational speech really brought tears to my eyes, Captain," Jungkook quipped, his lips curling into a mocking smirk. The two of them continued to lock eyes as they slowly backed away from each other, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Jungkook walked backward until he reached his locker, never breaking eye contact. Just before he finally looked away, he threw Jimin a quick wink. Jimin, on the other hand, was the first to avert his gaze, his brows furrowed and his expression tense as he turned and strode toward the rest of the team.

Half an hour later, when the players were finally called onto the court, the gymnasium erupted into a deafening roar. Passionate fans chanted the names of their teams, their voices blending into a thunderous wave of support. Meanwhile, groups of students—mostly girls who had little to no interest in basketball—screamed at the top of their lungs for their favorite players, adding to the already chaotic atmosphere.

Taehyung had initially taken a seat in the bleachers where the screams were loudest, but as the players entered and the noise became unbearable, he quickly descended toward the court. He reached the bench area just as Jimin noticed him. He immediatly approach Taehyung. Jimin's expression remained characteristically stern, his features giving nothing away as he subtly glanced at those seated while going through warm-up stretches. Taehyung pretended not to notice how Jimin's eyes briefly scanned the crowd before darting away. The weight of his absent family's expectations on Jimin's shoulders bothered even Taehyung.

With energetic enthusiasm, he threw an arm around his friend tried to change the mood. "Heard the Incheons already bought tickets to Seoul," he teased with his signature mischievous grin. Jimin finally focused on him, his stone-faced expression melting into a confident smirk. "Did they get tickets to our match there too?" Of course they'd win today's game and advance to Seoul , this was a foregone conclusion in Jimin's mind. "That's my best buddy!" Taehyung laughed, punching Jimin's shoulder affectionately.

As Jungkook approached the chatting pair after leaving his excited family next to the benchers, Jimin's face immediately reverted to its neutral mask while Taehyung began punching his other friend's shoulder. "Ready, champ? Brought your lucky charm for a blessing," Taehyung said, pulling the familiar keychain from his pocket and dangling it before Jungkook's eyes. Jungkook examined the old item for a few seconds before his gaze drifted to the boy stretching a few meters away. Jimin pointedly stared straight ahead avoid eye contact, continuing his warm-up routine with forced concentration.

"I don't need that anymore," Jungkook declared, tossing the keychain back into Taehyung's lap. Taehyung barely caught it, horrified. "You're too proud for my lucky keychain now? What the hell, you jerk!" This was shocking - since fifth grade, Jungkook had clung to that ironman-coat keychain before every match like his life depended on it. Though he'd always thought it silly, Taehyung had secretly cherished how Jungkook never outgrew this childish ritual ,it gave him nostalgic glimpses of their shared childhood. Not to mention how useful it was for blackmail. Now this sudden change made him pout.

Jungkook, meanwhile, looked utterly pleased with himself, a sly smile creeping across his face as he watched the stiffening figure whose back remained turned. "Got myself a pretty fiery good luck kiss yesterday," he said, voice deliberately louder than necessary. "Don't think I'll be needing any other charms." The visible tension that shot through the stretching boy's body at these words filled Jungkook with immense satisfaction. Leaving the two shock-frozen figure silently behind, he made his way toward center court.

When the referee finally tossed the ball into the air, the match began with explosive energy. The first few exchanged baskets passed relatively calmly, their team gaining a slight lead through consistent under-the-rim plays until the opponents called an early timeout.

As cheers continued roaring through the stands, Coach Minho quickly outlined strategic adjustments for key positions. Meanwhile, the school's gymnastic squad performed an elaborate routine center court, shimmiring in sync with the pulsing music.

Players returned to the court as the timeout ended. Jungkook was tossing his towel toward the bench when a sudden movement caught his peripheral vision , a cheerleader lunged at him unexpectedly. His reflexes kicked in as he automatically caught her by the waist when she threw her arms around his neck. "Good luck, baby!" she chirped before planting a kiss on his lips and darting back to her squad without another glance.

Jungkook shook off the surprise with a quick roll of his shoulders. He hadn't even registered her face, already refocusing the match as he stepped onto the court. But his concentration shattered again when someone slammed hard into his shoulder. Jimin, already breathing heavily through flared nostrils. Their captain was barking orders at his teammates. His jersey clung damply to his torso, the bandana now discarded from the building heat.

After the timeout, the game became much more competitive, with every point fiercely contested against the opposing team. Jungkook played tight defense, cutting off all escape routes without fouling his opponent. When he anticipated a pass to the low post, he quickly stretched out to deflect the ball mid-air. Without hesitation, he turned to sprint toward the opposite basket for a fast break, though he had to make a quick right move to evade an opposing player.

Finding himself surrounded, he swiftly passed to a teammate. The bench erupted in cheers when they successfully scored the difficult shot.

Their lead over the opposing team grew slightly wider. When they regained possession, they pushed forward aggressively. Jaemin passed to Jimin waiting near midcourt, and the shorter player immediately drove toward the basket. But he found himself trapped, scanning for someone to pass to. Everyone was too far away except Jungkook, who stretched out his arms calling for the ball. Jimin turned his head away and instead used his small frame to slip between two defenders. It wasn't easy, but he ultimately reached the basket and scored quickly against the slower opponents.

The game continued with the point difference remaining stable until the next timeout was called. On the bench, Jungkook listened to Coach Minho's instructions while glaring holes into the back of the player in front of him. His hands tingled from clenching them so tightly they might bruise. Frustration coursed through every cell in his body. Jimin had deliberately not passed to him a single time throughout the entire quarter, even at the cost of potentially better plays. Time after time, Jungkook had been left standing with his arms raised in vain.

As the second timeout ended, Jungkook continued shooting deadly glares at the shorter player. While others dispersed onto the court, he suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Jimin's arm to stop him. The look Jimin turned on him was ice-cold. For a moment, Jungkook felt himself freeze despite being drenched in sweat.

"Trying to lose? Play the damn game right." He didn't need to elaborate, they both knew exactly what he meant. There wasn't time to explain anyway. Jimin yanked his arm free sharply. "I'm doing whatever it takes to win." Just as Jungkook was about to step forward angrily, he had to pause when a girl caught his arm. He finally recognized her , the short-haired sophomore he'd started texting to last week.

Jimin gave the girl a blank stare for a few seconds before expressionlessly returning to the court. Jungkook exhaled in frustration, rubbing his aching forehead roughly with his fingers.

By halftime, the score was nearly tied. And Jimin still refused to let a single ball reach Jungkook. The tense game saw increasing fouls and trash talk that only raised tensions further, with Jimin and Jungkook being the main instigators, of course.

Unable to take out his frustration on his own teammate, Jungkook had turned to provoking the opposing team instead. He'd already received three fouls, and despite Coach Minho calling him over twice to scold him, he kept going.

Now it wasn't just Jimin driving the opponents crazy. Jungkook was recklessly launching triples from half-court every ten seconds, refusing to pass to Jimin no matter how open he was. While the opposing team thought they were facing some new strategy, even their own teammates looked confused by the duo's behavior.

When they finally got through the last timeout, Coach Minho reprimanded them harshly. But by then, this had already become a personal competition between them. Both were convinced they could turn the game around by sticking to their own methods.

The final moments of the game had everyone holding their breath in anticipation. The two teams were neck and neck as the clock ticked down to the last 20 seconds, with the opponents leading by just one point.

When Jaemin slipped and fumbled the ball, the entire gym fell silent. If the opposing team recovered it, the game would be over for Busan High. Players scrambled for the loose ball as spectators rose from their seats, even the announcer stopped breathing. In the blink of an eye, Park Jimin emerged with possession, sprinting toward the opponent's basket. The crowd's screams reached deafening levels while Coach Minho nearly ran onto the court, shouting frantic instructions.

With ten seconds remaining, Jimin passed to a teammate at half-court before cutting toward the basket. This wasn't the time for risky shots, they needed a high-percentage play under the hoop. When he turned to call for the ball, his eyes widened in horror. The ball had gone to Jungkook instead. The entire team froze.

Dribbling past defenders at midcourt, Jungkook locked eyes with Jimin. He was even far for a triple. He should pass, . They'd lose otherwise. Their rivalry was about to cost them the game. Jimin panickedly checked the clock - 2 seconds remaining - just as the ball left Jungkook's fingertips toward the basket.

The gym fell silent as every eye followed the ball's trajectory. It circled the rim once... twice... then dropped through the net.

What happened next occurred in a flash, deafening cheers, students flooding the court. Jimin stood rooted in place, adrenaline numbing his limbs, his gaze meeting Jungkook's equally frozen form at center court.

Chaos erupted around them. Teammates hugged and jumped in celebration. Their eye contact broke as players lifted Jimin into the air, chanting "Best captain! We won!" Meanwhile, Jungkook snapped out of his daze when teammates jumped on his back screaming " We're going to Seoul!"

Chapter Text

When the phone that had been ringing nonstop for ten minutes finally fell silent, the empty locker room echoed with nothing but ragged breaths and the obscene sounds of wet lips moving against each other.

Jungkook pulled back with a soft, slick noise when he felt completely breathless, trying to steady himself—only for Jimin to impatiently grab his collar and yank him close again. But this time, instead of kissing him, Jimin latched onto the corner of his bottom lip, the same spot he’d split with his fist half an hour ago, and sucked.

The sharp pain forced a whimper out of Jungkook. As Jimin dragged his tongue down his jaw, leaving a trail of spit, Jungkook couldn’t take it anymore. He fisted a hand in Jimin’s hair and crushed their mouths back together. He sucked Jimin’s upper lip between his teeth just as Jimin tilted his head and bit down on his lower one. Their lips moved like they were dancing—perfectly in sync, fitting together like a lock and key.

This was rougher than before, more frantic. Jimin’s lips were already darkening at the edges, and Jungkook was sure they’d bruise by tomorrow. Not that it mattered, the other marks they’d left on each other would disguise them just fine.

The locker room filled with the sound of ringing again, but neither of them stopped—until Jungkook froze at the sudden grip on his hip. Jimin’s hand slipped into his back pocket, fishing out his incessantly buzzing phone. Jungkook broke the kiss with a gasp.

“Don’t you dare throw it again! I just got this one,” he panted, reaching for it.

“Then shut it the hell up!” Jimin snapped, impatience lacing his voice. The sharpness sent a jolt through Jungkook’s stomach. He snatched the phone and swiped to end the call, cursing the way his hands shook.

The second he tossed it onto his bag, Jimin shoved him back into the lockers, the impact rattling through his spine. Then his mouth was on Jungkook’s again, so hard their teeth nearly clashed. When Jimin’s tongue pushed past his lips, a wave of heat shot straight down his abdomen.

He was too far gone to even think about swearing. The hands cradling his head, the tongue mapping his mouth, it all blurred into a haze of sensation. There was like no fight from earlier, no match, no tension between them. For the first time, Jungkook felt completely present, his mind empty of everything except the boy in front of him and the way his lips moved.

Jimin kissed like he was starving, and Jungkook didn’t even try to keep up this time. The thought that Jimin wanted this just as badly sent a thrill through him but the heat pooling low in his stomach was crossing into dangerous territory. If this went on any longer, he wouldn’t be able to walk out of here without it being painfully obvious.

Panic spiked through him. He jerked back, slamming his head against the locker as he tried to steady his breathing. Jimin caging him by braced his arms on either side of him , lips ghosting over his Adam’s apple, his own breaths uneven.

“Taehyung’s waiting outside,” Jungkook blurted the second he could speak. He only then noticed how Jimin’s head was bowed between them and the realization made his ears burn. There was no way Jimin hadn’t noticed how he get little too excited. If he teased him now, Jungkook was ready to punch him.

He cleared his throat, but no words came out. Jimin didn’t move, just waited, as if giving him time to catch his breath. When he finally lifted his head, Jungkook searched his face for any trace of mockery, but all he saw was exhaustion.

Then Jimin stepped back, and Jungkook’s gaze flicked downward for half a second. The visible bulge made all the blood in his body rush to his face. The fact that Jimin was just as excited should’ve been reassuring, but instead, it left him mortified. He jerked his head away, hand flying to his burning neck.

As Jimin swayed slightly on his feet and moved toward his bag, Jungkook finally unstuck himself from the lockers. Desperate to calm down, he forced himself to recall the time he and Taehyung had made themselves sick during a burger-eating contest. Anything to distract himself.

He hastily tugged his T-shirt back down over his waistband and tried to smooth his disheveled hair. Glancing back, he watched Jimin gathering his scattered belongings, movements unnervingly composed—like he wasn’t still feeling the aftershocks the way Jungkook was, fireworks still exploding under his skin.

Jungkook slung his bag over his shoulder and snatched his phone. He paused at the door, looking back one last time. Jimin was changing his shoes, head down.

“I’m leaving.” He didn’t know why he said it, he wasn’t expecting a response though. He slipped out before Jimin could react, scanning the hallway. They hadn’t even locked the door. The carelessness made him exhale sharply.

Then again, they hadn’t expected anything but another fight. This had happened in seconds, catching them both off guard.

Not that Jungkook would ever admit it, even to himself, but some part of him had known. Known that what he’d wanted to do to Jimin since the moment he saw him today wasn’t just punch him. Known why, for the past two nights, all his dreams had been wet, locker-room-themed fantasies.

He’d spent the entire game wanting to kill the guy, yet the second he had him alone, he’d latched onto his lips like a man possessed. Now he had to pretend it never happened

Jungkook raked a frustrated hand through his damp hair as he checked his phone, nearly forty missed calls. Mostly from Taehyung as expected and Julia, probably pissed after hearing about the cheerleader who’d jumped him earlier. He skimmed past them to his messages and group chats.

He replied to Taehyung’s impatient texts first. His friend had probably lost his mind waiting outside, Jungkook had promised to meet him after the celebration, but instead, he’d spent the last half hour in the locker room devouring Jimin.

When he finally met up with the others in the school courtyard, half the team was already there. From what he’d gathered in the group chat, they were heading out for a victory dinner. Taehyung slung an arm around his shoulders the second he spotted him.

"Where the hell have you been? We've been waiting forever!" The brunet whined dramatically, clinging to him like a limpet.

"I’m here, stop exaggerating. I needed a shower." Jungkook shrugged him off as they walked toward the exit. The restaurant was nearby, and the group of ten moved at a leisurely pace, chatting amongst themselves. Jungkook’s eyes flickered back toward the gym entrance one last time, no one else was coming.

"Why are you even here? You’re not on the team."

"Wow, rude!" Taehyung gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "I’m the backbone of this team! My contributions are immeasurable!" Jungkook rolled his eyes at his friend’s theatrics.

Just when he thought Taehyung had finally shut up about his latency, fingers prodded at his face.

"What the hell happened to you? Your lip’s all bruised."

Jungkook swatted his hand away, forcing calm into his voice. "Get your hands off me."

"Did you get into a fight? Or—" Taehyung’s eyes lit up with mischief. "Did someone suck on it?"

Jungkook shoved him back, panic flaring. Both, he thought bitterly.

Finally free, he schooled his expression into blankness, but Taehyung’s scrutinizing stare burned into him. The guy wouldn’t let this go without answers.

Pointing to the bruise under his eye ,not the swollen, thoroughly kissed lips, he muttered, "Your psycho best friend did it." He kept his gaze fixed ahead, hands shoved in his pockets as they trailed behind the group.

"Jimin?" Taehyung blinked, surprised.

"No, the Pope. Of course Jimin!" Jungkook snapped. "Instead of thanking me for saving the game, he headbutted me like a goat. Said I was selfish for taking the final shot when my triples success percentage 'isn't even twenty'."

Taehyung’s frown eased. This wasn’t new.

"He’s just jealous," Jungkook scoffed. "Couldn’t handle that I got the last shot."

"Jimin was the one who saved the ball, though."

Jungkook whirled on him. "Whatever! We won, and instead of celebrating, he got in my face like some drill sergeant."

He ranted the entire walk, painting himself as the victim, conveniently omitting the part where he’d thoroughly provoked Jimin first. Taehyung, who knew both of them too well, just humored him.

When they finally arrived at the restaurant, a long table stood ready for them. Since half the team was still underage, alcohol was limited, but platters of food began to quickly fill the table. As the meals arrived, a wave of collective joy from their hard-won victory washed over the group. The air was electric with celebration; a few of the older players, caught up in the moment, had already started clinking their glasses. The lively sound of laughter and chatter floated above the table, a testament to their shared triumph.

Amid the flying jokes and rising spirits, a voice called out to Taehyung, "Is the coach coming? Or the captain?"

Jungkook almost felt bad for underestimating Taehyung’s role,the guy really was the team’s unofficial manager.

"Coach can’t make it," Taehyung announced, pulling out a bank card with a smirk. "But dinner’s still on him!" The table erupted in cheers.

Then Jaemin asked, "Where’s Jimin?"

Most didn’t seem to care, but Jungkook’s fingers tightened around his drink as he glanced at Taehyung.

"Doubt he’s coming." Taehyung popped a pickle into his mouth, grinning. "Our captain’s got a new date tonight."

A few guys snickered. "Guess he wasn’t tired enough!"

The conversation instantly devolved into crude jokes. Jungkook froze, the pickle in his mouth turning to ash. His appetite vanished.

He’d been starving earlier, but now his stomach churned. The drink he’d avoided suddenly seemed appealing, he downed it in one go, wincing as it burned his throat. The irrational disappointment curdled into anger, though no one noticed the shift in his mood.

Every laugh, every shout in the restaurant grated on him. He needed air.

The bathroom was empty when he locked himself inside, but the nausea didn’t fade. He gripped the sink, wrestling with the storm inside him.

And like always, he redirected the fury toward Jimin.

His mind replayed every slight from the game, the withheld passes, the glares, the way Jimin had acted like he was above him. Then the fight after. Then the heat that followed.

It felt like Jimin had spent the whole day toying with him, humiliating him.

His fingers moved before he could think, pulling up the team group chat, finding Jimin’s number, and typing the first provocative message that came to mind.

Chat: +232323222322 (Park Jimin)

Jungkook:
Get your ass to the gym right now.
or i swear to god you'll wish you were never born.

(Read)

Jungkook:
helloo???

Park Jimin:
what's wrong?
the fuck u want anyway

Jungkook:
Get to the gym NOW.
get here before i lose my shit
waiting

Park Jimin:
Fuck off.
Not coming.
idk what ur problem is but
stop blowing up my phone
busy

Jungkook's fingers trembled over the call button as he read the reply. He gnawed on his lip, violent scenarios flashing through his mind while his grip threatened to crack the phone's screen. Without allowing himself a second thought, he typed again, his rational mind now completely drowned out by scalding rage and nausea he could no longer suppress.

Jungkook:
oh dont worry
by tomorrow u wont BE busy

Park Jimin:
??? ur not making sense psycho
Do I need to block you from here too

Jungkook:
that girl ur with rn?
keep ignoring me & see how fast she's in MY dms
Then you won't have anything keeping you "busy."
but hey ur used to that right?
watching ur precious girlfriends crawl to me
Seen

The second the message turned blue, he waited with the desperate anticipation of an addict craving his next hit that same volatile mix of excitement, obsession, helplessness, and sick familiarity. This was what had kept him going all this time. Or at least, that's what he'd convinced himself until a few days ago.

Park Jimin:
Typing...
stay right there u piece of shit
omw

A grin twisted Jungkook's lips as the notification popped up, though he couldn't explain the electric thrill shooting down his spine. It felt like a second victory today. The all-consuming fury that had gripped him moments ago now morphed into something darker, more euphoric. He stormed out of the restaurant, strides quickening toward the school gym, already tasting the confrontation to come.

Chapter Text

The art gallery was a sanctuary of hushed tones and soft lighting, but Jimin found no peace within it. He stood rigid before a painting, a burst of lilacs and lavenders meant to invoke a field in Provence. Yet, the idyllic scene failed to calm the tempest in his mind. Each time he tried to focus on the brushstrokes, his thoughts traitorously circled back to the one thing,the one person. he was trying to ignore.

Jungkook.

The boy sometimes carried the faint, clean scent of lavender, a fact Jimin’s brain now supplied with unhelpful clarity. It clung to the hollow of his throat, a subtle fragrance that had felt unnaturally potent today, as if trying to drown him. He fought the absurd, visceral memory of wanting to press his face against that spot again, instead leaning closer to the canvas as if the oil paints could offer a pale imitation.

“You like the lavender piece?” a voice, light and melodic, cut through his reverie.

Jimin flinched, physically pulling his gaze from the painting and mentally shoving the intrusive thoughts away. He turned to find Seun, her hair tied back with a silk ribbon, looking up at him with expectant eyes. He mustered a thin, polite smile.

“Yeah. They’re my favorite. Let’s see what’s over there,” he suggested, his voice a little too tight. He needed to move, to outpace his own mind. He led the way deeper into the gallery, and Seun, ever agreeable, fell into step beside him.

Seun was a sweet friend from his art class. They had decided today was the day to finally visit the exhibition they'd talked about for weeks. As tired as he was after the match, going home had become something he avoided like a plague. Whether he won or lost, the same disgusting feelings would constrict his throat the moment he stepped through his front door. Fortunately, today had provided so many distractions that he hadn't had to think about his father or their oppressive, gloomy house.

Later, seated in the cozy basement cafe, Seun chattered animatedly about her latest art projects. Jimin was grateful for the noise; it meant he didn’t have to speak. He could just nod, a silent sentinel to her enthusiasm, while his own mind remained elsewhere.

It was while their order was being taken that Jimin noticed a message from an unsaved number. He tried not to shift his attention from the girl animatedly talking opposite him, but his focus completely derailed at the sight of the familiar profile picture. His brows furrowed as he typed a reply, a slow, simmering frustration beginning to eat at him. His initial concern had quickly morphed into anger, and now a burning curiosity to understand why Jungkook was texting him these things.

“Bad news?” Seun asked, her voice laced with concern as she gently placed her hand over his on the table.

“No. It’s nothing. Just the team,” he brushed her off, pulling his hand back to flip his phone face-down. A pang of guilt hit him; she didn’t deserve his distraction. But the seed of anxiety had been planted, and it was growing roots, making him restless and on edge.

When their drinks arrived, he made the mistake of checking his phone once more. The new message that glowed on the screen sent a jolt of pure, sheer fury through him. Every muscle in his body went taut.

Jimin didn't consider himself an impulsive person, but over the last few months, he had begun to not recognize himself. The proof was in the three minutes it took him to ask Seun if he could leave, settle the bill, and abandon the girl there to head straight for the school.

His jaw was a tight line of fury as he impatiently punched the gym door open, less than fifteen minutes after reading the message. He was burning with the need to teach Jungkook a lesson for his insolence.

He spotted Jungkook immediately, a lone figure swaying slightly in the center of the court. Jimin stormed towards him, his footsteps echoing like gunshots in the empty hall. Without a word, he fisted a hand in Jungkook’s shirt, yanked him forward, and slammed his forehead into the other boy’s nose. He followed it with a brutal knee to the gut.

Jungkook crumpled with a choked gasp, stumbling back as Jimin released him with a shove.

“son of a bitch! You got a death wish or something?” Jimin snarled, his chest heaving.

Jungkook wiped the blood trickling from his nose, a slow, infuriating grin spreading across his face. He felt irrationally overjoyed.

His eyes, glazed and unfocused, raked over Jimin’s disheveled state—his messy hair, his untucked shirt.

“Damn. If I knew you’d come running that fast, I would’ve texted sooner,” Jungkook slurred, letting out a low chuckle.

Jimin lunged again. Jungkook managed to sidestep, but the movement was sluggish, clumsy. He was pale, his balance was off, and his eyes couldn’t seem to hold a focus. He looked between sick and drunk. Jimin could not settle on.

“Relax, she’s not even my type,” Jungkook mumbled, the words sloppy and dismissive.

That was the final straw. Jimin’s vision tinged with red. He unleashed a swift kick that connected with Jungkook’s side, then a punch, then another. But with each blow, his own fury began to drain away, replaced by a growing confusion. Jungkook wasn’t fighting back. He wasn’t even trying to block the hits. He just took them, a hollow shell where a rival should be.

“Fight back, you coward!” Jimin yelled, shoving him away in disgust.

Jungkook staggered and fell onto his back, lying sprawled on the hard court. A strange, almost serene smile was plastered on his pale face. “Why? That all you got?” he taunted, his voice weak.

"I don't understand... any of this." Jimin stood over him, fists still clenched, but the anger was now curdled with something else-pity, concern, a deep and unsettling disappointment. The fight was gone, leaving only a painful, one-sided spectacle. The guy on the ground really didn't seem to have any intention of responding phsically.

Meanwhile, a wave of numbness was creeping through Jungkook’s limbs. The nausea and dizziness were getting worse, and the edges of his sight were blurring.Nonetheless he was feeling quite satisfied and happy until he saw Jimin turn to leave, a fresh, desperate panic cut through the haze.

“Where you going?” he called out, his voice strained. “Back to your date that could end with just a text from me?" Jungkook panicked when the boy continued to walk away without turning around. "Back to your dad, so he can remind you what a failure you are again?”

The words were out before he could think, a vicious, last-ditch effort to inflict enough pain to make Jimin stay. He had no filter left, no strategy. Just a raw, screaming need to not be left alone in the dark.

The words failure hung in the stagnant air of the gym, a poison that instantly soured the taste of Jimin’s anger. It was as if someone had thrown a switch. The red haze of his rage vanished, leaving behind a cold, hollowed out feeling. A profound disappointment settled in his bones, so heavy it was a physical weight.

He turn around the stared down at Jungkook, at the pale, sweat sheened face and the defiant, glazed eyes, and felt nothing but a devastating sadness. This wasn't the what he expect. This was something broken and ugly. The urge to hit him again was gone, replaced by a sickening revulsion not for Jungkook, but for the entire situation, for the part of himself that had participated in this decay.

He didn't understand why the words had carved so deep. He was used to his father's disapproval; it was the background radiation of his life. But hearing it from Jungkook... it felt different. It felt like a betrayal of a truth they never spoke.

"Just... stay down," Jimin said, his voice quiet, stripped of all its earlier fire. It was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of his exhaustion. He turned his back again, a final, decisive act. Each step away from Jungkook felt like wading through mud, his heart a dull, aching stone in his chest. He just needed to get out. To leave this boy and his venom behind and try to remember what it felt like to be whole.

Behind him, a wave of immediate, gut wrenching regret washed over Jungkook, so potent it cut through the nausea and the dizzying fog in his head. He had seen it the fleeting crack in Jimin’s armor, the raw hurt in his eyes before they shuttered closed. And he had thrown the one thing that could truly shatter him.

"Jimin—wait," he slurred, pushing himself up on trembling arms. His body screamed in protest. A fresh wave of dizziness made the world tilt, and his limbs felt like they were made of lead and static. But the panic of being left alone, of Jimin walking away with that broken look, was a sharper pain.

He stumbled to his feet, his gait uncoordinated. "Jimin!" he called again, his voice raw.

Jimin heard the stumble, the ragged call of his name. He didn't stop. He pushed through the gym doors into the cooler, darker hallway, quickening his pace toward the exit. He was trying to fight the voices in his head.

"Jimin, stop!" Jungkook’s voice echoed in the tiled corridor as he burst out after him. He was unsteady, using the wall for support as he tried to close the distance. "I didn't... you..You’re just going to run away?!" Jungkook was desperately whimper.

"Come on! Go ahead hit me again. It’s the only way we know how to talk."

It was the wrong thing to say. The absolute worst thing. It wasn’t an apology; even though he didn't mean to it was a dismissal of Jimin’s pain and a provocation all in one. But it was also obviously true. The two of them could resort to anything but talking.

Jimin kept walking, a statue of resolve. The plea was just more noise.

Desperate, Jungkook lunged forward, his fingers brushing against Jimin's sleeve. "Just listen—"

It was the final provocation. Jimin whirled around, all the confused hurt and fury of the night coalescing into one single, explosive reaction. "GET OFF ME!" he roared, and shoved Jungkook back off of him.

The push was catastrophic.

Jungkook, already perilously off-balance and weakened, flew backward. His feet tangled, his arms flailed for a railing that wasn't there, and he pitched backward down the short, brutal flight of concrete stairs.

The sound was sickening. A sharp CRACK of bone meeting concrete, followed by the heavy thud of a body landing in a heap.

The echo died, leaving a silence more deafening than any shout.

Jimin stood frozen at the top of the stairs, his hands still outstretched, his breath caught in his throat. The anger was gone, utterly erased by a wave of stunning, cold horror.What have I done?

He stumbled down the steps, his own legs threatening to give way. The scene at the bottom made his blood run cold.

Jungkook was curled on his side, his face a ghostly mask of pain. His right arm was bent beneath him at a grotesque, impossible angle. A low, continuous moan escaped his clenched teeth.

"Hey...?" Jimin’s voice was a strangled whisper. He fell to his knees, his hands hovering, afraid to touch. "Jungkook? "

Jungkook’s eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing shallow and rapid. The stubborn defiance was gone, replaced by the raw, simple agony of a broken body.

"Oh god," Jimin breathed, the reality of it crashing down. The bruises on Jungkook's face were from his fists. This broken arm was from his shove. The guilt was instant, crushing, and absolute. "No, no, no..."

For a single, tense moment, their eyes met. Jungkook’s were wide with pain, but the previous self-explanatory struggle was still there.His breath hitched, and he gritted his teeth, trying to speak through the agony. "See... I was just.. you just had to—" He couldn't finish, a sharp gasp cutting him off.

That last, stupid, stubborn attempt to talk nonsense instead of surrendering to the reality of his broken body was what finally broke through Jimin’s shock.

"Shut up," Jimin said, but his voice wasn't harsh. It was quiet, strained, almost a whisper.His own hands starting to tremble. "Just... shut up, you idiot."

He fumbled for his phone, his movements uncharacteristically clumsy. His voice was tight but eerily calm as he spoke to the dispatcher, giving their location. He never looked away from Jungkook.

When he ended the call, silence returned. Jungkook had finally stopped talking, his eyes tightly closed, his breaths sharp and shallow, but he was still trying to move and sit up. The sight of Jungkook, proud, stern, and infuriating, so low and with his hand lowered, was a sobering terror.

"Hold still! It will be fine" he murmured, his words like a frantic, silent mantra.

"Fine? I think i fractured it. Fuck!" Jungkook said with anxiety. Sweat beads were forming on his forehead from the strain he was putting on or his much higher body temperature than it should be.

Carefully, he slipped his hand under Jungkook's head, shielding him from the cold ground and any movement. The gesture was instinctively protective, the exact opposite of his intentions just moments before. He was no longer the aggressor or the opponent. He was simply a child kneeling in the dim light, horrified by the damage he had done.

As he knelt there, guilt washed over him like lead. He saw the entire horrific chain of events his senseless anger and frustration had wrought: his punches, his thrust, the fall. The image of Jungkook's twisted and broken arm was etched into his mind. This wasn't a game anymore. This was a line crossed, irreparable. Looking at Jungkook's pain-struck face, Jimin knew with a profound certainty, as if it were a sentence, that he was now irrevocably responsible. The fight was over. All that remained was the wreckage and the long, arduous road ahead.