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The room was dimly lit, the faint flicker of a dying candle casting shadows across the walls. Joong leaned back against the cold stone, arms crossed, his expression a mix of irritation and amusement as he watched Dunk pace the floor.
"You can stop pacing anytime now," Joong drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. "Unless, of course, you're trying to wear down the floorboards for fun."
Dunk shot him a glare, his jaw tight. "You think this is funny? We’re in the middle of a mess, and all you can do is run your mouth."
Joong pushed off the wall, slowly approaching. There was something predatory in his movements, something calculated. "What’s wrong? Feeling the pressure? Or maybe," he leaned in, just enough to invade Dunk’s space, "you're mad because you know I’m right."
"Right about what?" Dunk snapped, stepping back but refusing to look away.
Joong’s lips curved into a smirk. "That you can’t handle this. You’re all bark, Dunk. Always have been. But when it comes down to it—"
Dunk grabbed the front of Joong’s shirt, yanking him closer. The tension crackled between them, electric and raw.
"Don’t test me," Dunk hissed, his voice low but full of warning.
Joong’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew. He tilted his head, his gaze flickering to Dunk’s grip before meeting his eyes again. "Or what? You’ll lose your cool? You’ll finally admit that all this fire you keep throwing my way is just a cover for something else?"
Dunk’s breath hitched, his grip faltering for a split second before he tightened it again. "You’re delusional."
"Am I?" Joong murmured, his voice softer now, more dangerous. "Then why haven’t you let go?"
The silence that followed was deafening, the air between them heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Dunk’s hand trembled slightly before he shoved Joong away, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Stay out of my way," Dunk muttered, turning on his heel and storming out of the room.
Joong watched him go, his smirk fading into something more unreadable. His eyes lingered on the door long after Dunk had disappeared, the tension still thick in the air.
The buzz of the fanbase had been a constant in the back of Dunk’s mind, a nagging reminder of how every interaction between him and Joong was dissected, analyzed, and turned into some kind of romance. It was ridiculous. And yet, Joong? Oh, Joong loved to lean into it.
Dunk slammed the door of the practice room behind him, tossing his bag onto the nearest chair. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, the frustration in his eyes a dead giveaway.
"Careful, you’re going to scare off all your admirers with that face."
Dunk whirled around to see Joong casually leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, an infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face.
"Don’t you ever knock?" Dunk snapped, turning away to hide the flush creeping up his neck.
Joong stepped into the room, his presence filling the space effortlessly. "Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I was curious. You stormed out so fast earlier, I thought you were actually mad."
"I *was* mad. I *am* mad," Dunk retorted, his voice sharp. "Do you ever think about how your little games affect me? Or is it just a big joke to you?"
Joong’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly, tilting his head. "Games? You mean like the ones our fans love so much? You’ve seen the edits, right? The fan art? The hashtags? They adore us together."
"And whose fault is that?" Dunk shot back, whirling to face him. "You keep feeding into it! The teasing, the touches, the—"
Joong stepped closer, closing the distance between them in an instant. "What, Dunk? The way I look at you? The way I act like I can’t keep my hands to myself?"
Dunk’s breath caught, his heart pounding in his chest. Joong was too close, his voice too soft, too knowing.
"You act like it’s all me," Joong murmured, his gaze locked on Dunk’s. "But you’ve never once told me to stop. Not when I tease you. Not when I lean in just a little too close. And certainly not when the fans start shipping us. So, tell me, Dunk… who’s really playing the game here?"
Dunk’s hands clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. "You don’t get it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You make it impossible to ignore. Every time you laugh, every time you act like this, it—" He cut himself off, shaking his head.
"It what?" Joong pressed, his voice soft but insistent.
Dunk’s jaw tightened. "It makes me question everything. And I hate that."
The room was silent, the weight of Dunk’s words hanging heavily in the air. For once, Joong didn’t have a quick comeback. His smirk was gone, replaced by something deeper, something unreadable.
"I never meant to make you feel that way," Joong said finally, his voice uncharacteristically serious.
"Yeah, well," Dunk muttered, turning away. "You did."
Joong’s hand shot out, grabbing Dunk’s wrist gently but firmly. "Dunk."
The sound of his name, spoken so softly, made Dunk freeze. He didn’t dare look back, knowing that if he did, he’d see something in Joong’s eyes that he wasn’t ready to face.
"You think I’m acting because of the fans," Joong said, his grip loosening but not letting go. "But it’s not an act. At least… not entirely."
Dunk’s head snapped up, his eyes wide as he finally turned to face Joong. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
Joong hesitated for the first time, his usual confidence faltering. But then, he stepped closer, his hand still wrapped around Dunk’s wrist.
"It means," Joong said, his voice barely above a whisper, "that maybe the fans see something I’ve been too scared to admit."
Dunk’s heart was racing, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. But the tension between them was palpable, a crackling energy that neither of them could deny.
"Say something," Joong said, his voice almost pleading.
Dunk’s lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, he pulled his wrist free and took a step back, his mind screaming at him to leave before things got even more complicated.
But even as he turned to go, he couldn’t shake the weight of Joong’s gaze on his back, or the words he’d left unsaid.
Dunk stormed out of the room, but his steps faltered just a few meters down the hall. His pulse was racing, his mind running circles around Joong’s words. He shook his head, trying to clear the thought, but it lingered, tangled in the back of his mind like an unfinished sentence. Why couldn’t Joong just leave things simple? Why did he always have to push, to tease, to get under Dunk’s skin and set it on fire?
"Running again?"
The voice came from behind, smooth and low, and Dunk didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment before spinning on his heel.
"You really don’t know when to quit, do you?" Dunk snapped.
Joong stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, a faint smirk playing on his lips. But there was something different in his eyes—something darker, more intense.
"Why would I quit when I know you’re going to stop eventually?" Joong stepped closer, the click of his shoes echoing in the empty hallway.
Dunk crossed his arms, trying to steady himself. "What do you even want from me?"
Joong’s smirk softened into something more serious. "I want you to stop pretending."
"Pretending?" Dunk let out a bitter laugh. "You’re the one who’s been pretending this whole time, feeding into the fans’ fantasies like it’s some kind of game."
Joong’s eyes narrowed. "You think this is a game to me? Dunk, if it was just about the fans, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be chasing you down the hall like an idiot trying to get you to—" He stopped himself, clenching his jaw as if he’d said too much.
"To what?" Dunk challenged, stepping closer now, his frustration bubbling over. "To what, Joong?"
Joong’s lips parted, his breath shallow as he stared at Dunk. The space between them was practically nonexistent now, the tension so thick it was suffocating.
"To admit that maybe I don’t care what the fans think," Joong said finally, his voice quiet but firm. "That maybe I’ve been leaning into it because it’s the only excuse I have to… to get close to you."
Dunk’s heart skipped a beat, his mind going blank. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.
Joong took another step forward, his gaze dropping to Dunk’s lips for the briefest moment before meeting his eyes again. "Say something. Push me away. Do something."
Dunk’s breath hitched, his body frozen. He could feel the heat radiating off Joong, the closeness of him overwhelming. And yet, he couldn’t move.
Joong let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Nothing, huh?" He shook his head, stepping back slightly, and Dunk felt the loss of his warmth immediately. "Maybe you really don’t feel the same. Maybe I’ve been fooling myself this whole time."
The words cut through Dunk like a knife, and before he could think, he grabbed Joong’s wrist, pulling him back.
"Don’t you dare," Dunk said, his voice trembling but firm. "Don’t you dare act like you’re the only one taking risks here."
Joong’s eyes widened, his breath catching as Dunk stepped closer, closing the gap between them again.
"Every time you push, every time you tease, I—" Dunk’s voice faltered, his chest heaving. "I don’t know how to handle it. You make it impossible to think, impossible to focus. And it’s not fair."
"Life’s not fair," Joong murmured, his voice soft, his eyes locked on Dunk’s. "But you don’t seem to mind when it’s just us."
For a moment, everything else faded away—the hallway, the distant sounds of laughter from the crew, the world outside. It was just them, standing on the edge of something neither of them fully understood.
Dunk hesitated, his gaze flickering between Joong’s eyes and his lips. And then, slowly, as if drawn by some invisible force, he leaned in.
Joong didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as Dunk’s lips hovered just a whisper away from his. The tension was unbearable, the air charged with an intensity that felt like it could shatter at any moment.
But instead of closing the gap, Dunk pulled back, his cheeks flushed, his breathing uneven.
"This doesn’t change anything," he muttered, his voice shaky.
Joong’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Doesn’t it?"