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The drinks flowed easily as the group gathered in their favorite corner of the bar, the dim lighting casting long shadows across their faces. It was one of those rare nights—no rehearsals, no stage lights, no cameras. The final leg of their tour had come to a close, and for once, they could let go of the pressure, the personas, and just be themselves.
Seokjin leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he looked around at the others. He had always been the one to organize these nights out, the one who kept the atmosphere light, but tonight, even he felt the weight of the tour lifting off his shoulders. He took a slow sip of his drink, savoring the taste of freedom, before glancing over at Jungkook, who was sitting across from him, fiddling with the glass in his hand.
Jungkook had always been a bit of an enigma. Even now, in this quiet moment, Seokjin couldn't help but notice the slight tension in his shoulders. Jungkook had been quiet lately—too quiet. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the tour or the weight of the unspoken things between them, but something was different. It was always hard to tell with him. Jungkook was a hard book to read, and Seokjin had yet to figure out what was going on in that mind of his.
The others were laughing at something Taehyung had said, his voice cutting through the chatter like the playful buzz of a bee. Taehyung had always been the one to keep the energy high. Even in the middle of a chaotic tour, he seemed to have endless reserves of joy. Tonight was no exception.
Taehyung’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I swear, Jungkook, you’d never win in a flirting match against Seokjin.”
Jungkook paused mid-sip, raising an eyebrow as his attention shifted. It wasn’t often that Taehyung made a comment like that, at least not directed at him. The challenge hung in the air between them, its weight shifting the atmosphere.
Seokjin, ever the tease, shot Taehyung a playful smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Taehyung’s grin widened. “Well, you’re... Seokjin. You’ve got all the charm, all the moves. Jungkook’s... well, Jungkook.” He shrugged dramatically.
Jungkook narrowed his eyes at Taehyung. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Taehyung just laughed, clearly having no intention of explaining himself further. But it was enough to get the wheels turning in Jungkook’s mind. The idea had already been planted, and now it was only a matter of how he’d react.
Seokjin, always one to enjoy a challenge, leaned in with a smirk. “What, you think you can outflirt me, kid?”
Jungkook’s initial surprise faded into something more confident. He straightened up, meeting Seokjin’s eyes without hesitation. “Yeah, I could make you fall for me in a month. Easy.”
The group fell into a sudden silence. The words hung in the air, their impact sinking in.
“You’re full of shit, Jungkook,” Taehyung said, leaning forward, a knowing smile on his face. “You couldn’t make Seokjin fall for you if you tried. The guy’s impossible.”
Seokjin chuckled, shaking his head. “What are you, twelve?” He shot Jungkook a playful glare but couldn’t hide the slight spark in his eyes. Jungkook had never been one to back down from a challenge and Seokjin knew.
“I’m serious,” Jungkook replied, a hint of cockiness creeping into his voice. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the edge of his glass. “I’ll make him fall in a month. Bet.”
Seokjin didn’t miss a beat. “Try me.”
And just like that, the challenge was set.
Jimin, who had been silently observing the back-and-forth, leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “You’re really doing this? A whole month to make Seokjin fall for you?”
Seokjin shot Jimin a look, rolling his eyes. “Like I’m just going to let this happen. I’m not that easy, you know. It’s not like this will work out anyway."
The group laughed, the tension breaking for a moment. But Jungkook’s smirk didn’t falter. He was confident, maybe even too confident. But then again, that was his style—always pushing boundaries, always testing limits.
“Okay,” Jungkook said, his voice steady. “But the loser has to admit defeat. And confess. No backing out.”
Seokjin paused, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Fine,” he said, his voice smooth. “But I don’t think either of us will lose.”
They sealed the deal with a raised glass. A toast that didn’t quite make sense yet—too drunk to realize the consequences, too caught up in the moment to understand what was at stake. It was just a game, a challenge. Or so they thought.
As the night wore on, they continued to joke, drink, and laugh. The atmosphere was light, their teasing and competitive spirits buzzing through the room. But something shifted in Seokjin. For a brief moment, as he caught Jungkook’s gaze across the table, something flickered in his chest—a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just the alcohol talking. There was something else there. A deeper layer to their friendship that had always been there but was now coming into focus in a way that felt... too close.
He pushed the feeling aside. After all, they were just playing a game. Nothing serious. Nothing more.
But Jungkook’s words kept echoing in his mind. 'I could make you fall for me in a month.'
---
As the night wore on, the conversation meandered through drunken stories and exaggerated bets, the kind only friends could make in this kind of atmosphere—loose, carefree, and a little reckless. Seokjin leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded from the alcohol, but his mind still racing. He couldn’t shake the thought that Jungkook’s challenge—what started as a ridiculous joke—was beginning to feel like something more. A spark of unease stirred in him, and he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or something deeper, something more personal.
Jungkook, for his part, seemed just as immersed in the game. His eyes were a little sharper now, his cocky grin still playing at the edges of his lips. There was something about him tonight. The usual playfulness that marked his demeanor was there, but something about the way he held himself—his posture, the way he looked at Seokjin—was different. More purposeful. More intense.
Seokjin didn’t think much of it at first. He chalked it up to the alcohol, the camaraderie, the late hour. But as Jungkook caught his gaze again, Seokjin felt a weight settle in his chest. He took another sip of his drink, trying to push the feeling away.
"Alright," Taehyung called out, clearly having had enough to drink, his voice rising in a dramatic fashion. "We should make this interesting. How about we add a punishment?"
The others looked at him, intrigued.
"You know," Taehyung continued, clearly thinking up the idea as he went, "if one of you falls, you have to confess in front of the whole group. No backing out. No weaseling out of it. Full-on, public confession."
Seokjin raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Public confession? You’re taking this bet way too seriously."
“I’m just saying,” Taehyung added, “we’re all gonna be watching. It's not a real challenge unless it's... a challenge.”
Jungkook chuckled, the cockiness never leaving his face. "Fine by me," he said, with a wave of his hand. "I’m not afraid of a confession. Not gonna happen."
Seokjin looked at him carefully, weighing the sincerity of Jungkook’s words. He couldn’t help but feel a slight unease. Jungkook seemed too confident, like he was playing some sort of game that was deeper than the words he was saying. But it was all supposed to be a joke, right? Just a harmless bet.
"Alright, let’s keep it fun," Seokjin said, trying to brush the tension aside with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "No need to take this seriously."
But even as he spoke, he knew that they were already past the point of no return. This wasn’t just some casual game anymore. The challenge was personal. It was rooted in something deeper than alcohol and friendly banter. He could feel it, the pull between them—something that had always been there but had never quite reached the surface. Not until now.
The night went on in a haze of laughter and playful teasing, but Seokjin couldn’t shake the feeling that things had shifted. That they had all crossed an invisible line.
---
Seokjin’s mind wandered, and his thoughts drifted back to a time before the lights, before the crowds, before everything had gotten so complicated.
It was a few years ago, during their early days together. Jungkook had always been the youngest, the one who’d had the least experience. He was only seventeen then—still adjusting to the harsh realities of life on tour. It hadn’t been easy. Homesickness had hit him hard, and the weight of the world seemed to press on his shoulders, leaving him with a quiet sadness Seokjin couldn’t ignore.
It had been one of those late-night rehearsals, the kind where they stayed up until the early hours, working through their set. The others had long gone to bed, but Jungkook had stayed behind. Seokjin found him in the practice room, his back hunched over the piano, fingers pressing against the keys without really playing. He was staring at the wall, his gaze distant and lost.
"Jungkook?" Seokjin had called softly, stepping into the room.
Jungkook had looked up, startled at first, but the usual bright spark in his eyes was dimmed. "Oh. Hyung. Didn’t hear you come in."
Seokjin had walked over, sitting beside him. "You okay?" he’d asked, his voice gentle. He knew Jungkook well enough by now to see when something was wrong, even if Jungkook wouldn’t admit it.
Jungkook had shrugged, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, just tired, I guess."
But Seokjin had seen through it. He always did. Jungkook had a way of hiding his emotions, burying them under a facade of confidence. But Seokjin had always known when the mask slipped, when the weight of the world had become too much.
Without a word, Seokjin had placed a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. "You don’t have to hide it, you know."
Jungkook had stiffened at first, but then relaxed, leaning slightly into the touch. "I don’t want to be a burden," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Seokjin had given him a reassuring smile. "You’re not a burden, Jungkook. Never." He had known then, in that quiet moment, that no matter what happened on stage or in front of the cameras, this—this—was what really mattered. This connection between them. The support, the comfort. It was something that had started to mean more to Seokjin than he had ever realized.
For the next few hours, they had stayed in that empty room together. Seokjin had stayed up with him, not saying much, just being there—quiet, comforting. And in that silence, Jungkook’s presence had made everything easier. There was a peace in being with him, a sense of balance. As long as Seokjin was there, Jungkook could breathe a little easier. And that realization had hit Seokjin with a strange kind of clarity.
It had been then, in that moment, that Seokjin had first realized the true depth of his feelings for Jungkook.
---
Jungkook never did anything half-heartedly. If he was going to win, he was going to win big. So the next morning, despite the dull headache from the night before, he was up early, scrolling through his mental playbook of ways to make Seokjin fall first.
Step one: Physical touch.
At breakfast, he started small—reaching over to brush nonexistent crumbs from Seokjin’s sleeve, bumping their knees under the table, resting a casual hand on the small of Seokjin’s back as he moved past him. Seokjin barely reacted.
Alright. Fine. Step two: Eye contact.
Jungkook took every opportunity to catch Seokjin’s gaze, holding it just a little too long, letting his expression turn slow and deliberate. When Seokjin looked up from his phone at the kitchen counter, Jungkook met his eyes and smirked. Not his usual playful one—this one was intentional, slow-spreading, just enough to hint at something unsaid.
Seokjin blinked once, then turned back to his coffee. “You look like a pervert, Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s smirk faltered.
Alright. New plan. Step three: Verbal game.
They had dance practice that morning, which meant plenty of opportunities to escalate things. Jungkook waited for the right moment, and it came when they were going over formations, the members shifting between positions.
Seokjin had just fixed his mic pack when Jungkook slid up beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
“Hyung,” Jungkook murmured, just loud enough for Seokjin to hear, “if you wanted me this close, you could’ve just asked.”
Seokjin’s head turned sharply, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
Jungkook smiled, tilting his head. “I mean, you keep standing near me. I get it. I’m irresistible.”
Seokjin scoffed. “You’re standing next to ME.”
“Details.” Jungkook shrugged.
Seokjin rolled his eyes but didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in slightly, tilting his head as if examining him. “If this is your attempt at flirting, I’d give it a five out of ten.”
Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Five?”
“You’re trying too hard.”
Jungkook grinned. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to handle someone flirting with you.”
Seokjin patted his cheek condescendingly. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been playing this game longer than you’ve been able to drive.”
Jungkook’s stomach did something weird at the sweetheart—but he ignored it. He had a challenge to win.
Behind them, Jimin sighed loudly. “You guys are so weird.”
Across the room, Yoongi looked like he wanted to die. “I regret coming to practice.”
Namjoon muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Going to be a disaster.”
Only Taehyung smiled, quiet and knowing. As if he saw something nobody else did.
----
Jungkook took the five out of ten comment personally. He wasn’t going to half-ass this.
By the time they wrapped up practice, he had a new strategy in place: Step four—direct attacks.
The perfect opportunity came when they were cooling down, everyone sprawled across the practice room floor. Seokjin was stretching, one arm reaching over his head, exposing just a hint of skin where his shirt rode up. Jungkook, still breathless from their last run-through, took a sip from his water bottle, then casually leaned back on his hands.
“Hyung,” he said, voice low and easy, “you look good today.”
Seokjin arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I always look good.”
Jungkook grinned. “True. But today’s different.” He let his gaze sweep over him, slow and deliberate, before meeting Seokjin’s eyes again. “Maybe it’s the lighting. Or maybe it’s because you know I’m watching.”
Seokjin froze.
Just for a second. A fraction of hesitation. But Jungkook caught it.
Then, as quickly as it came, Seokjin scoffed, rolling his shoulders like he wasn’t affected. “Cute,” he said, completely unimpressed. “A solid six out of ten this time.”
Jungkook frowned. “Only one point higher?”
“You lack subtlety.”
Jungkook huffed, but before he could respond, Hoseok groaned from across the room. “I’m gonna puke.”
Yoongi, still lying flat on his back, muttered, “Please do. Maybe it’ll make them stop.”
Jimin only shook his head, like he wasn’t sure if he should be amused or disturbed.
Taehyung? Taehyung just smiled.
---
Jungkook bided his time. He needed a setting where it was just the two of them—where he could really push Seokjin without an audience.
It happened that night, after everyone had left. Jungkook lingered in the practice room, pretending to go over choreography. He knew Seokjin often stayed back to review moves at his own pace, avoiding the pressure of eyes on him.
And sure enough, a few minutes later, Seokjin walked back in.
He barely spared Jungkook a glance before heading to the mirrors, rolling his shoulders. “Still here?”
Jungkook smirked, crossing his arms. “Thought I’d keep you company.”
Seokjin snorted. “Sure you did.”
Jungkook watched as Seokjin adjusted his stance, hands on his hips. He looked good—hair slightly damp from an earlier shower, loose shirt hanging just right, the soft glow of the overhead lights making his skin look unfairly smooth.
Jungkook exhaled sharply, shaking off the thought. Focus.
“Need a partner?” he offered, stepping closer.
Seokjin side-eyed him. “You offering to help or just looking for an excuse to touch me?”
Jungkook grinned. “Can’t it be both?”
Seokjin rolled his eyes but relented, motioning for Jungkook to take position. They moved through the routine, mirroring each other, the silence between them comfortable.
Then Jungkook made his move.
On the last beat, instead of stepping back, he turned into Seokjin’s space, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off him. He reached up, cupping Seokjin’s face with both hands, tilting his head slightly.
Seokjin’s breath hitched.
Jungkook didn’t say anything. He just smirked, letting his thumbs brush over Seokjin’s cheekbones. He could feel the way Seokjin tensed, but—importantly—he didn’t pull away.
Seokjin swallowed. “What are you doing?”
Jungkook’s voice was low. “Winning.”
Seokjin blinked. His ears were red.
Jungkook leaned in slightly, not quite closing the space between them. Just enough to tease. He let his breath ghost over Seokjin’s lips, waiting, watching—
And then, just as Seokjin’s eyes fluttered slightly, Jungkook pulled back.
“Goodnight, hyung,” he said, voice light and casual, like nothing had happened.
He turned and walked out of the practice room, leaving Seokjin standing there, frozen.
A smirk curled at Jungkook’s lips.
Maybe this wouldn’t take a month after all.
---
Flashback - Concert Nights
Backstage was chaos. Staff hurried around, adjusting outfits, checking mics, triple-checking cues. Jungkook stood near the vanity mirror, his heart pounding in that pre-performance adrenaline rush.
Then Seokjin was there.
“Hold still,” he muttered, reaching up to fix Jungkook’s tie.
Jungkook froze.
Seokjin’s fingers were gentle, adjusting the fabric with practiced ease. Jungkook could feel the warmth of his hands through the thin material, could see the slight furrow of his brows as he concentrated.
Jungkook swallowed.
Seokjin was close. Closer than he needed to be.
Jungkook’s heart stuttered as Seokjin smoothed the fabric down, his hands lingering for just a second too long.
Then Seokjin met his eyes and smiled. “There. Perfect.”
Jungkook barely heard the announcement calling them to the stage. His pulse was too loud in his ears.
He didn’t understand it then.
But maybe, just maybe, this had started long before the bet.
---
Jungkook hadn’t expected the bet to change anything.
It was supposed to be a joke—something ridiculous, like all their other games. A way to one-up Seokjin, to prove a point. The flirting was easy. The teasing was natural. But the way Seokjin reacted… that was different.
At first, it had been simple. Playful glances, casual touches, a cocky smirk whenever Seokjin rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away. Jungkook thought it would be fun to get under his skin, to watch the oldest fumble. But the longer they played, the more Jungkook started noticing things.
Like how effortlessly Seokjin played along.
Like how Seokjin’s laugh lingered in his head long after their conversations ended.
Like how his own heart stuttered when Seokjin leaned in, his smirk lazy, his voice dipping lower just to throw Jungkook off his game.
It was… unsettling.
And the worst part? No one else seemed surprised.
Jimin, watching them during lunch, had sighed dramatically, stabbing at his food. “You guys are still weird.”
Yoongi looked disgusted—well, more than usual.
And Namjoon? Namjoon had muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'this was not in the job description'.
Only Taehyung seemed pleased and smiled.
Jungkook didn’t like that smile.
He also didn’t like the way his own heartbeat sped up every time Seokjin looked at him like that—like he wasn’t just humoring him. Like he was really, truly playing this game to win.
---
It was a grueling practice session, the kind that left them all half-dead by the end. Their clothes stuck to their skin with sweat, muscles aching, breaths coming sharp and ragged.
They had been at it for hours.
The mirrors were fogged, the wooden floors slick from constant movement. Jungkook had pushed himself harder than usual, throwing himself into the routine with a kind of reckless energy that made Hoseok side-eye him every few minutes.
The music pulsed through the speakers. They moved in sync, bodies sharp and fluid, but Jungkook’s focus kept shifting.
Because every time Seokjin came into his peripheral vision, he felt it. That pull. That itch beneath his skin.
Don’t get distracted.
But then—
Seokjin stumbled.
It wasn’t a dramatic fall. Just a misstep, a brief falter in his footing. But Jungkook reacted instantly, moving before he could think, catching him.
His arms locked around Seokjin’s waist, steadying. Holding.
The world narrowed.
The studio noise faded, the sound of their harsh breaths too loud in the space between them. Seokjin’s hands had grabbed at Jungkook’s shirt for balance, fingers curling against damp fabric. His chest rose and fell rapidly, close enough that Jungkook could feel every inhale, every exhale.
Jungkook swallowed, hard.
He should say something. He should tease.
But he didn’t.
He just… stood there, staring, fingers pressing too tightly into Seokjin’s sides.
Seokjin’s expression shifted. The usual amusement wasn’t there. His smirk had faded. Instead, his eyes searched Jungkook’s face, something unreadable flickering behind them.
Jungkook felt like his heart had crawled up into his throat.
Then, Seokjin cleared his throat, stepping back. “That was smooth,” he muttered, brushing himself off.
Jungkook forced a grin, but it felt stiff. “Like butter.”
Seokjin didn’t say anything else. He just turned back toward the mirrors, rolling his shoulders. But Jungkook caught it—the way his fingers lingered at the hem of his shirt, the way his ears burned just a little too red.
Jungkook inhaled sharply, exhaling slow through his nose.
He needed to get it together.
---
Flashback:
It had been an exhausting few weeks.
Jungkook barely remembered boarding the plane. He had been running on fumes, head heavy, movements sluggish. The excitement of performing had drained him completely, leaving nothing but the ache of overworked muscles and a mind clouded with exhaustion.
They had taken off a while ago. The cabin was dimmed for sleep, the soft hum of the engine the only real noise aside from the occasional murmur of conversation.
Seokjin sat beside him.
Jungkook didn’t think about it—he just moved.
His body tilted, shifting toward warmth, and before he could process it, his head dropped onto Seokjin’s shoulder.
Seokjin didn’t react at first.
For a moment, Jungkook thought maybe he had crossed a line. But then—a shift. A small movement. Seokjin adjusting, settling, letting Jungkook rest.
His warmth seeped through the fabric of his hoodie, steady and grounding.
Jungkook barely registered his own voice, words slurred with sleep. “I don’t wanna do this without you.”
He wasn’t even sure what 'this' was.
A second passed. Then another.
Jungkook was half-asleep when he felt it. The lightest touch against his wrist. A brush of fingers. There and gone.
Like a promise.
Like 'I’m here.'
Jungkook exhaled, sinking further into Seokjin’s warmth, and let sleep take him.
---
Jungkook needed to get his head straight.
This was supposed to be a game.
He should make Seokjin fall for him, instead this whole mission backfired. Epically.
A joke. A stupid, drunken bet.
But suddenly, it didn’t feel like one anymore.
Because somewhere along the way, things shifted.
It was in the way Seokjin met his gaze now—too steady, too knowing. The way their banter had lost its casual edge, turning into something heavier. The way Jungkook had caught himself searching for Seokjin in crowded rooms, feeling lighter when he found him.
And worst of all—
It was in the way his own body betrayed him.
Like during rehearsal, when he’d caught Seokjin from stumbling, and instead of brushing it off, he had frozen. Like an idiot. Holding on too long. Feeling something tighten in his chest when Seokjin’s hands had gripped his shirt.
Or last night, when they were sitting in the van after practice, exhausted, and Seokjin had leaned his head back, eyes fluttering shut, throat bared. Jungkook had looked. Too long. Long enough that Jimin nudged him in the ribs and muttered, “You’re being weird AGAIN.”
Jungkook had shoved him off. But he couldn’t deny it.
He was being weird.
And everyone noticed.
---
It started with Yoongi. Of course it did.
They were at the company cafeteria, halfway through breakfast, when Yoongi arched a brow at Jungkook’s untouched food. “What’s with you?”
Jungkook looked up, startled. “What?”
“You’re weirdly quiet,” Yoongi said, dunking a piece of toast in his coffee. “Not like you.”
Taehyung smirked. “Maybe he’s lovesick.”
Jungkook nearly choked. “I’m what?”
“Oh, don’t act clueless,” Jimin added, grinning. “You and Seokjin-hyung have been at it lately. What, getting tired of flirting?”
“I—” Jungkook scowled. “Shut up.”
“Oh, he’s embarrassed,” Hoseok gasped, eyes widening in mock surprise.
“Not embarrassed,” Namjoon muttered, sipping his tea. “Losing.”
That got Jungkook’s attention.
His eyes snapped to Namjoon, narrowing. “I’m not losing.”
“Sure,” Namjoon said, in a tone that clearly meant 'you totally are.'
Taehyung just watched all of this with a very satisfied expression.
---
Jungkook avoided him for two days.
Which, realistically, was impossible. They were literally in the same group. But Jungkook tried.
He skipped their usual lunch spot. Cut their conversations short. Didn’t respond to Seokjin’s texts as quickly as he normally would.
None of it worked.
Because Seokjin noticed.
And when Seokjin noticed something, he never let it go.
“Getting scared, kid?”
The words hit Jungkook in the middle of practice, when they were cooling down after a long session. The others had left already, but Seokjin had lingered, stretching against the mirrors.
Jungkook stiffened. “What?”
Seokjin smirked. “You heard me.”
Jungkook rolled his shoulders, turning away. “I’m not scared.”
“Then why are you avoiding me?” Seokjin stepped closer, voice light, teasing. “Don’t tell me this was all talk.”
Jungkook wanted to snap back with something witty. Something cocky. But the words wouldn’t come, because Seokjin was too close.
Because Jungkook’s throat had gone dry.
Because he suddenly wasn’t sure if he was still playing.
Seokjin tilted his head, studying him. The amusement in his expression flickered, just for a second, replaced by something softer.
“Jungkook.”
Jungkook forced a breath. “It’s nothing.”
Seokjin didn’t push. He just exhaled, rolling his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Then, he left.
And Jungkook was left standing there, fists clenched, heart pounding.
---
Flashback – The Hotel Room
It was years ago, late at night.
They had just finished a concert, adrenaline still buzzing in their veins. But the hotel room was quiet, the air thick with exhaustion.
Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face.
He was tired. Not just physically, but mentally.
Seokjin sat across from him, watching. “What’s wrong?”
Jungkook hesitated. Then, he sighed. “I just…” His fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatpants. “I don’t know.”
Seokjin didn’t say anything. Just waited.
Jungkook exhaled slowly. “I’m scared,” he admitted. “Of being misunderstood.”
Seokjin’s expression softened. “Jungkook—”
“I mean it,” Jungkook muttered. “No matter what I do, people see what they want. They think they know me, but they don’t. They only see the version of me they’ve made up in their heads.”
A pause. Then—
Seokjin, voice steady, warm:
“Then I’ll understand you.”
Jungkook had looked up.
Seokjin was still watching him, calm and certain.
And Jungkook had believed him.
He still did.
---
Jungkook stopped flirting.
At first, it was subtle. A missed opportunity here, a joke left unanswered there. But over time, the shift became impossible to ignore.
He wasn’t losing the bet—he was ignoring it.
The teasing smirks disappeared. The lingering touches stopped. His usual confident winks? Gone.
And Seokjin noticed.
Of course he did.
Because for weeks, Jungkook had been relentless—charming, playful, pushing boundaries without hesitation. And now? Nothing.
It didn’t make sense.
So, Seokjin pushed back.
Hard.
---
It started small.
A playful nudge during rehearsals. A hand brushing against Jungkook’s arm when they passed each other in the halls.
Then it escalated.
“Not giving up, are you?” Seokjin teased one evening, cornering Jungkook in the kitchen. The others had gone to their rooms, leaving them alone in the dorm. “I mean, I get it. You’re young. It’s hard to keep up with me.”
Jungkook barely looked at him. “Not in the mood, hyung.”
That should have been the end of it. But Seokjin—stubborn, determined, curious—didn’t let it go.
At dance practice the next day, he doubled down.
He mirrored Jungkook’s movements unnecessarily close, leaned in too much when they rested. When they reviewed choreography, he whispered in Jungkook’s ear—soft, teasing, playful.
Nothing.
Then, during a break, he flopped beside Jungkook on the studio couch, letting their thighs press together. “You’re no fun anymore,” Seokjin pouted, nudging Jungkook’s knee. “What happened? Did you finally realize you can’t win?”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened.
Seokjin smirked. “Admit it,” he coaxed. “You—”
“Maybe I don’t want to play anymore.”
The words cut through the air, sharp and unexpected.
Seokjin’s breath hitched.
Jungkook stood abruptly, muscles tense, expression unreadable. “I’m going home.”
Seokjin didn’t stop him.
Because for the first time, he wasn’t sure if this was a joke anymore.
---
Flashback – The Airport
The chaos hit the second they landed.
Reporters, flashing lights, a sea of voices calling their names.
Jungkook had been through this before. He should have been used to it. But something about that night—the exhaustion, the sheer intensity of the crowd—got to him.
The second they stepped into the arrivals hall, the swarm closed in. The flashes were blinding, the shouts deafening.
Someone grabbed his arm.
Jungkook flinched.
And suddenly—Seokjin was there.
Between him and the crowd, solid and steady.
“Stay close to me.”
Jungkook obeyed without thinking, gripping Seokjin’s sleeve.
Seokjin didn’t let go.
He guided Jungkook through the chaos, keeping his body angled protectively, leading them toward the car. Even when security cleared a path, he didn’t step away.
The second they were inside, doors shut, silence settling, Seokjin turned to him.
“You okay?”
Jungkook didn’t answer. Just nodded, fingers still curled in Seokjin’s sleeve.
Seokjin let him.
And Jungkook realized—
Seokjin made everything easier.
Always had.
Always would.
---
Seokjin was tired of being ignored.
For days, Jungkook had been pulling away. Less teasing. Less lingering glances. Less of everything.
And Seokjin had had enough.
So when the opportunity came—a cute staff member, friendly and clearly interested—Seokjin said yes.
Maybe it was petty.
Maybe he just wanted to see if Jungkook would react.
Maybe he just wanted to prove that the tension between them—the way his heart stuttered when Jungkook got too close, the way Jungkook’s touch lingered even after he pulled away—was all in his head.
Maybe if he went on this date, it would mean nothing was real.
But then Taehyung found out.
And Taehyung had never been good at keeping things to himself.
---
Jungkook was in the gym, wrapping up his workout when the door slammed open.
Taehyung stood in the doorway, looking like someone had kicked his puppy.
“Hyung is going on a date.”
Jungkook blinked, sweat dripping down his temple. “What?”
“A date.” Taehyung’s voice cracked, like the words physically hurt to say. “Seokjin-hyung. Tonight.”
Jungkook felt the drop in his stomach before he could process it.
Something hot curled in his chest—sharp, immediate, irrational.
He dropped the towel around his neck. “With who?”
Taehyung hesitated. “One of the new stylists.”
The heat spread, anger, confusion, something else entirely.
It shouldn’t matter.
It didn’t matter.
And yet—
Jungkook turned abruptly, grabbing his hoodie. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, shoving his arms into the sleeves.
Taehyung stared at him. “You look like it matters.”
“It doesn’t.”
“You’re literally clenching your fists.”
Jungkook ignored him.
And stormed out of the gym.
---
Seokjin wasn’t expecting Jungkook to be waiting for him in the dorm when he got back.
But there he was.
Standing in the kitchen, jaw tight, fingers gripping the counter too hard.
Seokjin sighed, setting down his keys. “What’s with the face?”
Jungkook’s voice was sharp. “How was your date?”
Seokjin stilled.
Oh.
So that’s what this was about.
He shrugged, keeping his voice light. “Fine.”
Jungkook’s eyes flashed.
Seokjin leaned against the counter. “Why do you care?”
Jungkook’s jaw worked. “I don’t.”
Seokjin tilted his head. “Then why do you look like you’re about to punch something?”
Silence.
A thick, heavy silence, laden with something unspoken.
Jungkook’s fists clenched, knuckles white.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
Seokjin didn’t stop him. Again.
Because for the first time, he wasn’t sure what he wanted Jungkook to say.
---
Jungkook didn’t mean to avoid Seokjin.
But it happened anyway.
At rehearsals, he picked spots on the other side of the room. At meals, he sat next to Yoongi or Namjoon. When Seokjin walked into a space, Jungkook found a reason to walk out.
He told himself it wasn’t on purpose.
That it was just… easier this way.
Seokjin didn’t chase him. Didn’t call him out. Didn’t demand an explanation.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice.
---
Jimin was the first to say something.
“You two are weird. Again. Can you please just stop this?”
Jungkook grunted, focusing on stretching his legs. Seokjin barely glanced up from his phone.
Jimin scoffed, rocking back on his heels. “Seriously. Are you fighting or something?”
Seokjin rolled his eyes. “Why do you care?”
Jimin smirked. “Because the sexual tension is suffocating.”
Seokjin choked. Jungkook kicked Jimin’s ankle.
Jimin yelped, laughing as he stumbled away.
But it was Taehyung who really cut through the bullshit.
Later, as they packed up for the night, Taehyung lingered by Seokjin’s side, watching him closely.
“You always laugh at Jungkook’s jokes first,” he said softly.
Seokjin froze.
Taehyung’s gaze didn’t waver. “Except now you don’t.”
Seokjin didn’t have an answer for that.
---
Flashback – A Night Without Weight
Tour life was exhausting.
The cameras. The schedules. The constant movement.
Jungkook had been struggling to sleep, the adrenaline from performing still thrumming in his veins even hours later.
So when Seokjin knocked on his hotel room door at 2 AM, he wasn’t all that surprised.
“C’mon,” Seokjin whispered.
Jungkook blinked. “Where?”
Seokjin just grinned.
And Jungkook—sleep-deprived, restless, and far too trusting of Seokjin’s impulsiveness—followed.
They snuck past staff, slipping out of the hotel through a side door. The night air was cool, the city alive but distant.
They walked with no real destination, the streets quiet beneath the neon glow.
For the first time in a long time, Jungkook saw Seokjin without the weight of the stage on his shoulders.
No cameras. No expectations. Just him.
Jungkook never forgot that night.
And now, as Seokjin laughed less, as Jungkook kept his distance, he wondered—
Had he ruined it?
---
Seokjin had spent years perfecting the art of patience.
He had learned to hold his tongue when Jungkook, still an overeager teenager, challenged him to arm-wrestling matches and gloated every time he won. He had learned to breathe through the moments Jungkook tested limits, pushed boundaries, and rebelled in small, quiet ways only Seokjin seemed to notice.
And he had learned to wait when Jungkook needed space—when he withdrew, when the pressure of being 'Jeon Jungkook, the golden maknae'threatened to drown him, when words failed him and silence was the only thing he could offer.
Seokjin had always been willing to wait for Jungkook to come back.
But this?
This was different.
Jungkook wasn’t just pulling away. He was shutting him out.
And Seokjin was tired of pretending it didn’t hurt.
---
It started small.
Jungkook stopped seeking him out between rehearsals. No more casual nudges, no more teasing grins thrown across the room.
Then it escalated.
Jungkook stopped laughing at his jokes. That hurt more than Seokjin wanted to admit.
Then, the worst part—
Jungkook stopped looking at him.
He wouldn’t meet Seokjin’s gaze during dance practices, wouldn’t acknowledge him unless absolutely necessary. It was as if Jungkook had rewritten the rules of their relationship overnight, deciding that Seokjin—who had been a constant in his life for years—was no longer someone he wanted close.
And Seokjin?
He let it happen.
At first, he told himself that Jungkook just needed time. That he’d come around. That maybe this was still part of their dumb bet—the lines had blurred, but surely it hadn’t gotten bad enough to break them.
Right?
Then weeks passed.
And suddenly, they weren’t speaking at all.
---
Seokjin had never considered himself the kind of person who chased people down for answers.
If someone didn’t want to talk, fine. That was their choice.
But this wasn’t just someone.
This was Jungkook.
And Seokjin wasn’t sure he could stand still and let this silence stretch between them any longer.
So when he caught Jungkook leaving the practice room alone—hood pulled over his head, bag slung over his shoulder, walking away like he always did now—Seokjin moved.
"Jungkook."
He barely raised his voice, but Jungkook stopped dead in his tracks.
Good.
Slowly, the younger man turned. His face was unreadable, his expression carefully blank in a way that made Seokjin’s stomach tighten.
He exhaled sharply, stepping forward. "Stop avoiding me."
Jungkook’s jaw tightened.
"I’m not."
Seokjin let out a short, humorless laugh. "Right. And I’m the maknae now."
For a second, he thought Jungkook would smile. His lips twitched—just the barest hint of amusement, an instinctual reaction Seokjin had always been able to pull from him.
But it was gone just as fast.
Jungkook’s expression hardened, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag.
Seokjin narrowed his eyes. "Seriously. Talk to me."
Jungkook inhaled slowly. His fingers twitched at his sides. And for a moment—just a moment—Seokjin thought he’d actually answer him.
Instead, Jungkook exhaled and said, "I don’t even know what we’re doing anymore and I hate that."
The words hit Seokjin like a slap.
He hated that his first instinct was to pretend it didn’t hurt.
Don’t flinch. Don’t show it.
But something about the look in Jungkook’s eyes made it impossible to ignore the weight behind the words.
Seokjin’s throat felt tight. "What do you mean?"
Jungkook just shook his head, like he had already made up his mind.
"Let’s stop."
And before Seokjin could process what was happening—before he could figure out what the hell to say—
Jungkook turned and walked away.
---
Seokjin didn’t stop him.
Why could he never stop Jungkook from walking away?
He should have. He could have.
But his feet felt like they were glued to the floor, his mouth wouldn’t move, his hands stayed at his sides instead of reaching out.
He just stood there.
Frozen.
Watching as Jungkook disappeared down the hall.
And with each step Jungkook took away from him, Seokjin felt something unravel inside him—something he had been desperately holding together for longer than he realized.
The truth crashed into him all at once.
He had just lost something he didn’t even realize he wanted to keep.
And he had no idea how to get it back.
---
Seokjin wasn’t sure when his own apartment started feeling empty.
He had always liked having space to himself—appreciated the quiet after long schedules, the chance to breathe without cameras or managers hovering nearby, especially after sharing a tiny dorm with 6 guys for so long.
But tonight?
Tonight, it didn’t feel peaceful.
It felt lonely.
The moment he stepped inside, he could feel the absence of something—of someone—he wasn’t ready to name.
His keys clattered against the counter. He toed off his shoes, moving on autopilot.
Then he stopped.
His phone was still in his hand, the screen lighting up with nothing but the time. No messages. No notifications.
Nothing.
Seokjin exhaled sharply and tossed it onto the couch before dropping onto it himself, letting his head fall back against the cushions.
His body ached from rehearsals, his mind was tired from everything else, but sleep felt impossible.
For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be alone.
Maybe he should move back to the dorm for a while.
---
After a while, he reached for his phone again, almost without thinking.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
For a second—just a second—he considered calling Jungkook.
He even tapped on their chat.
But the moment he did, he froze.
Because all he saw were messages he hadn’t opened in days.
The last texts Jungkook had sent before everything fell apart.
He wasn’t even sure why he hadn’t responded back then. Maybe he had been busy, maybe he had been avoiding something he hadn’t wanted to admit to himself.
Maybe, deep down, he had already known things were changing.
Seokjin swallowed, scrolling up.
---
**1:42 AM**
Jungkook: hyung, are u awake?
**1:45 AM**
Jungkook: nvm, sleep well
Seokjin frowned, something twisting in his chest.
He hadn’t been awake that night. But he knew Jungkook—knew that if he had reached out that late, he probably hadn’t wanted to be alone.
He scrolled further.
---
**3 weeks ago**
Jungkook: u better eat something before practice
Jungkook: don’t fight me on this, I’ll steal your snacks if u don’t
Seokjin huffed out a quiet laugh despite himself.
He didn’t remember if he had actually listened that day. He probably hadn’t. But Jungkook had always been persistent—an annoyingly caring presence when he wanted to be.
Even when they were arguing.
Even when he was pulling away.
Seokjin inhaled slowly, thumb pausing on a message from months ago.
---
**4 months ago**
Jungkook: I swear if u make me laugh on stage again I’m gonna quit
Seokjin: bold of you to assume I won’t make you laugh in retirement too
Jungkook: annoying
Seokjin: and yet
Jungkook: …and yet
Seokjin exhaled, pressing his phone against his forehead.
It was so easy to forget how many moments they had shared—how much history had been written into their texts alone.
But now?
Now it felt like he was looking at the remains of something he wasn’t sure he could fix.
---
Flashback—A Feverish Night
It was years ago.
Jungkook had been younger then—still finding his place in the group, still adjusting to the weight of expectations.
Seokjin had known something was wrong the moment he saw him.
Jungkook had barely made it through rehearsals that day, his usual energy replaced by sluggish movements, his face paler than usual.
He had tried to tough it out.
But Seokjin had known better.
By the time they got back to the dorms, Jungkook had collapsed into bed without even changing out of his practice clothes.
That was all the confirmation Seokjin needed.
He stayed up with him that night.
Kept checking his temperature. Made sure he drank enough water.
And when Jungkook, half-delirious with fever, mumbled something into the quiet, Seokjin almost didn’t catch it.
"You’re the best, hyung. Love you."
His voice was barely a whisper, but there was something so genuine in the way he said it that Seokjin had to pause.
His chest felt tight.
He smoothed Jungkook’s hair back without thinking, voice softer than he meant it to be.
"Love you, too. You have no idea."
---
Seokjin blinked back into the present, still staring at his phone screen.
The memory sat heavy in his chest, pressing against something unspoken.
He had always cared about Jungkook. That was never the question.
But maybe—
Maybe the reason this hurt so much…
Was because he had never let himself consider what it meant.
---
Seokjin wasn’t sure why he was watching old clips.
It started with boredom, or at least that’s what he told himself. A mindless scroll through YouTube, nothing but habit.
But then—
Then the algorithm hit him where it hurt.
"Seokjin-hyung takes care of me more than anyone."
The words played back at him through the screen, voice younger, softer—belonging to a Jungkook who had once said it like it was an undeniable truth.
Seokjin stared.
The clip was from an interview a few years ago. Jungkook had been smiling, so casual in the way he said it, like it wasn’t a confession—like it wasn’t something Seokjin had forgotten how to hear.
The video kept playing, Jungkook laughing at something off-screen, but Seokjin was stuck.
Because all he could think was:
Do you still believe that now?
---
Seokjin closed his laptop.
The silence in his apartment pressed in.
His chest felt tight.
There was something about seeing Jungkook say those words—hearing them again after everything—that made the loss feel real.
Like it wasn’t just some stupid fight.
Like it wasn’t just a temporary silence.
Like maybe—maybe this time, he had really ruined it.
The air felt too heavy. He rubbed a hand over his face, fingers pressing into his temples.
His phone sat next to him on the couch. No messages. Still.
He hadn’t reached out.
Neither had Jungkook.
And somehow, that hurt more than anything.
---
Seokjin had always been good at pretending.
Good at smiling when things hurt. Good at laughing things off before they settled too deep.
But now?
Now it felt like he was staring at something he couldn’t ignore.
Because no matter how many times he tried to push it aside, his mind kept circling back to everything he never said.
"You’re important to me."
"I notice when you’re not there."
"I care more than I should."
He should have said something.
Should have realized earlier that this wasn’t just a game. That Jungkook wasn’t just anyone.
And now—
Now it felt like he had let it all slip through his fingers.
---
He had taken Jungkook for granted.
That much was clear.
Somewhere along the way, he had gotten used to having him there—hovering at the edge of his space, filling the silence, always just within reach.
And now?
Now it felt like someone had ripped a piece of him away.
His breath hitched. His shoulders curled in, instinctive, like he could make himself smaller. Like maybe, if he shrunk enough, the pain would shrink with him.
But it didn’t.
It only grew.
And suddenly—suddenly he wasn’t sure if he could fix this.
What if Jungkook was done?
What if Seokjin had pushed too far, waited too long?
The thought hit like a gut punch, knocking the air from his lungs.
---
The dorm was loud. Or at least, it should have been.
Taehyung and Hoseok were playing some ridiculous game on the couch, laughter spilling between them. Namjoon was scrolling through his phone, eyes flicking up every now and then to watch the chaos. Yoongi sat beside him, nodding absentmindedly to a beat only he could hear.
And Jimin—
Jimin was watching Seokjin.
Watching how he sat stiffly on the armrest of the couch instead of sinking into it. Watching how his fingers tapped against his thigh in a rhythm that didn’t match the room’s energy. Watching how he stared into the distance, lost in thought.
"I've never seen you this quiet, hyung."
Seokjin barely reacted. Just blinked, like he was pulling himself out of a fog. "Yeah. Me neither."
"Are you okay?"
"I don’t know. I don’t think so."
It was the most honest thing he had said all week.
---
Jimin exchanged glances with Taehyung, who had already stopped playing. Hoseok, sensing the shift in mood, dropped the controller and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Alright," Namjoon said, setting his phone down. "Are we going to talk about it?"
"Talk about what?" Seokjin muttered.
"Don't play dumb, hyung," Yoongi said flatly.
Seokjin sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don’t know what you guys expect me to say."
Taehyung frowned. "Maybe start with why you and Jungkook aren’t talking."
Hearing Jungkook’s name out loud felt like a punch to the ribs.
Seokjin swallowed. His throat felt tight.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Because how was he supposed to explain something he barely understood himself?
How was he supposed to say—
I started a bet and lost more than I bargained for.
I pushed too hard, and now I think I lost him.
I don’t know what to do.
Jimin sighed. "This whole thing is weird. The two of you not bickering? It’s unsettling."
Yoongi nodded. "Yeah. I’m losing my appetite."
"Like you had one to begin with," Hoseok muttered.
"Shut up."
Taehyung cut in before Yoongi could smack him. "Look, hyung," he said, voice softer now. "If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But at least admit that it’s bothering you."
Seokjin hesitated.
Because wasn't that obvious?
Wasn’t it clear from the way his shoulders stayed tense? The way his mind kept drifting to unread texts and unsent messages?
He wanted to talk about it.
He just didn’t know where to start.
---
"You miss him," Jimin said.
The words landed like a dull blow.
Seokjin exhaled sharply, looking down at his hands. "Of course, I do."
"Then why aren’t you fixing it?"
Seokjin flinched. He had no answer for that.
Because wasn’t that the problem?
He didn’t know how.
Didn’t know what to say to undo all of this.
Didn’t know if Jungkook would even want to hear it.
Namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You should talk to him."
"I tried." Seokjin's voice was quiet. "He walked away."
The room was silent for a moment.
Then Yoongi snorted. "So?"
Seokjin blinked. "So?"
Yoongi rolled his eyes. "So, try again. Idiot."
Seokjin scowled. "Oh, thanks for the wisdom. I’ll be sure to engrave that on a plaque."
"You should," Yoongi deadpanned. "And then go talk to him."
Seokjin looked away, pressing his lips together.
Because the truth was—
He wanted to.
God, he wanted to.
But the last time he had reached out, Jungkook had walked away.
And that moment still burned.
Still hurt.
Jimin nudged him lightly. "You don’t have to fix everything tonight, hyung. Just… don’t give up on him yet."
Seokjin exhaled.
Don’t give up.
That was the thing, though.
He never really had.
---
The dorm hall felt longer than usual.
Seokjin’s steps were slow, measured—hesitant.
His palms were damp. His chest felt too tight.
He had rehearsed this a hundred times. In the shower, in his head before falling asleep, in the silence of his own room. He had thought about what to say.
But now that he was here, standing in front of Jungkook’s door—he wasn’t sure if any of it would be enough.
He raised his hand. Let it hover.
Took a breath.
Knocked.
The seconds stretched. A painfully long pause. Then—footsteps.
And the door opened.
---
Jungkook stood there in sweatpants and an oversized shirt, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. His hair was a mess, his eyes hooded with exhaustion. But what struck Seokjin the most—
The way Jungkook’s face dropped the second he saw him.
Like he had hoped for someone else.
Or worse—
Like he had hoped for no one at all.
Seokjin swallowed. "Hey."
Jungkook exhaled sharply, leaning against the frame. "Hyung."
Silence.
Seokjin shifted on his feet, fingers curling at his sides. "Can we talk?"
Jungkook’s jaw tensed. For a second, Seokjin thought he might say no.
Then—without a word—Jungkook stepped back, leaving the door open.
Seokjin took it as an invitation.
---
Jungkook’s room was dimly lit. The curtains were drawn, the air thick with an unspoken weight.
Seokjin hesitated near the door. Jungkook sat on the edge of his bed, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere on the floor.
"I never wanted to win," Seokjin said quietly.
Jungkook’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t look up.
"I just didn’t want to lose you."
That made him react.
Jungkook’s throat bobbed, his hands clenching into fists. "Then why did it feel like you were trying so hard?"
Seokjin swallowed. "Because I was scared."
Jungkook laughed. But it wasn’t amused—it was sharp, bitter.
"You were scared?" His voice shook. "What about me, hyung? You—" He exhaled, shaking his head. "You played with something I couldn’t afford to lose."
Seokjin’s chest ached.
Because he knew.
He had seen it—how Jungkook had pulled back first, how his flirting had stopped being playful long before Seokjin even realized what was happening.
Jungkook’s voice was quieter now. "Did you mean any of it?"
Seokjin’s breath hitched.
He stepped forward.
Closed the distance.
Lowered his voice to something just above a whisper.
"Every word. It was never just a game."
Jungkook finally looked at him. Really looked at him.
And Seokjin knew—this was the moment that would decide everything.
---
Jungkook blinked rapidly. His hands gripped his knees, like he was trying to ground himself.
"You—you don’t get to say that, hyung." His voice was hoarse. "Not after everything."
Seokjin exhaled sharply. "I know. And I don’t expect you to believe me right away. But Jungkook—" He forced himself to hold his gaze. "I don’t want to play anymore either."
Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath.
The room felt too small.
Like there wasn’t enough air for both of them.
Seokjin took another step closer.
"Let me fix this," he whispered. "Please."
Jungkook’s lips parted—like he had something to say.
But in the end—he didn’t.
Instead, his hands moved first.
Slow. Hesitant.
Fingertips brushing against Seokjin’s wrist—the lightest touch, but enough to make Seokjin’s chest cave in.
And for the first time in weeks—
Jungkook didn’t pull away.
---
Seokjin barely remembered walking back to his room.
The entire conversation with Jungkook played on loop in his head, over and over, like a song stuck on repeat.
"Did you mean any of it?"
"Every word."
Jungkook had looked at him, really looked at him.But there had been no relief, no understanding—just doubt. Caution.
Seokjin could handle a lot of things. Pressure. Criticism. The weight of expectations.
But not this.
Not knowing if he had ruined the one thing he never wanted to lose.
By the time he reached the dorm hallway, his legs felt weak. His chest was too tight.
He lowered himself to the floor, leaning back against the wall. Pressed his hands against his face.
And finally—finally—let himself break.
---
Seokjin wasn’t even sure when his vision blurred.
At first, it was just pressure behind his eyes, a lump in his throat.
Then—
Then suddenly his face felt wet.
Tears hit his hands before he even processed it.
It wasn’t pretty.
It wasn’t soft.
It was hot, bitter, unrelenting.
A sob broke past his lips before he could swallow it down.
He curled forward, forearms braced against his knees, shoulders shaking as he fell apart.
This wasn’t just frustration.
This wasn’t just losing a bet.
This was grief.
Because he had never realized what he had until it was gone.
And now, for the first time in a long time—
Seokjin wasn’t sure if he could get it back.
---
Seokjin’s hands clenched into fists, nails biting into his palms. He focused on the sting, desperate for something physical to pull him out of his head. But it didn’t work.
The weight in his chest only pressed harder.
He hadn’t cried like this in years. Not even when things got tough, not even when he was exhausted beyond reason. He always laughed it off, always kept it together.
But now—
Now he was alone.
Another sob wrenched itself free, raw and jagged, echoing through the empty apartment. He pressed a trembling hand over his mouth, but it didn’t stop the next one. Or the one after that.
His body shook. His breathing came in shallow gasps.
“Fuck,” he choked out, barely more than a whisper.
His own voice sounded foreign.
He gritted his teeth and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears, trying to push it all back down. But it was too late.
Everything he had ignored, everything he had pushed aside—it was all here, crashing down at once.
---
He had spent weeks pretending it didn’t hurt. Laughing off the teasing. Acting like Jungkook’s avoidance didn’t rip him apart.
Now there was no one to fool.
No one to see him—
Except—
"Hyung?"
A quiet voice. Too gentle.
Seokjin froze.
Slowly, he lowered his hands.
Taehyung stood a few feet away, watching him with soft, knowing eyes.
Seokjin wiped at his face quickly, but it was useless—his eyes were red, his cheeks damp, his breath still unsteady.
Taehyung didn’t say anything at first.
He just sat down beside him.
Close, but not too close.
Like he knew Seokjin needed the space to breathe.
And then—
"Just tell him, hyung."
Seokjin let out a sharp, broken laugh.
"You think it’s that simple?" His voice was wrecked.
Taehyung didn’t look away. "I think it’s only as complicated as you make it."
Seokjin clenched his jaw. "Jungkook doesn’t feel the same way."
"Did he say that?"
Seokjin exhaled harshly. "He didn’t have to."
Taehyung hummed. "Or maybe he’s just as scared as you are. Jungkook’s upset, too, you know."
Seokjin’s throat tightened.
He wante to believe that.
God, he wanted to believe that.
But—
"What if I already messed everything up?" His voice cracked at the end.
Taehyung sighed, tilting his head against the wall.
"Then fix it."
Seokjin swallowed. His hands curled into fists against his lap.
He felt raw. Exposed.
But for the first time, the weight on his chest felt a little lighter.
Taehyung nudged his shoulder, grinning. "Also, you’re ugly when you cry."
Seokjin groaned, shoving him weakly. "Shut up."
Taehyung just laughed.
And for the first time in weeks—Seokjin almost smiled.
---
Flashback – The Moment Seokjin Knew
The dressing room lights hummed softly. The echoes of the crowd still rang in Seokjin’s ears, the adrenaline from the stage not yet faded.
He should have gone to change. Should have joined the others.
Instead, he stood frozen, just outside the entrance to the stage, watching.
Jungkook was out there, surrounded by fans, laughing as he signed albums, his eyes shining with something untouchable.
Seokjin had seen him like this a thousand times. But tonight—it felt different.
Maybe it was the way Jungkook glowed in the aftermath of the performance, voice still hoarse from singing.
Maybe it was the way he smiled—full, unguarded, breathtaking.
Or maybe it was the way Seokjin’s own chest tightened, clenched, ached.
Something inside him whispered—this is dangerous.
Because Seokjin had always cared about Jungkook. That wasn’t new.
But this—this was something else.
Something deeper.
Something terrifying.
And the worst part?
It didn’t feel like the kind of feeling you could shake.
No matter how hard you tried.
---
Seokjin wasn’t sure how long he sat in the hallway after Taehyung left.
His body felt heavy, drained, raw.
Eventually, he forced himself to move—back into his room, back under the covers, back to pretending he could sleep when his mind wouldn’t stop screaming.
But sleep never came.
A knock at the door did.
Soft, hesitant.
Then—
"Hyung?"
Seokjin’s breath caught.
Jungkook.
For a second, he considered not answering.
But Jungkook knocked again.
And Seokjin’s resolve crumbled.
He pushed himself up and opened the door.
Jungkook stood there, eyes searching, jaw tight.
Seokjin swallowed. His throat still felt raw from crying.
But before he could speak—
"Taehyung told me you’re crying. Why?"
Seokjin froze.
Jungkook’s voice was quiet but unwavering. Like he needed to know.
Like he couldn’t stand not knowing.
Seokjin let out a shaky breath. His grip tightened on the doorframe.
He could lie. Brush it off.
But he was so, so tired of pretending.
So instead—he looked at Jungkook.
And let the truth fall out.
"Because I love you, you idiot."
---
Silence.
Jungkook just stared.
Seokjin could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, loud and unsteady.
Then—Jungkook took a slow step forward.
"Say it again."
Seokjin’s breath hitched. "What?"
Jungkook swallowed, eyes dark, focused.
"Say it again."
Seokjin’s hands trembled. His chest ached.
But he forced himself to hold Jungkook’s gaze.
And whispered—
"I love you."
Jungkook exhaled sharply, like the words had hit him in the gut.
And then—he was closing the distance.
Seokjin barely had time to react before Jungkook’s lips were on his.
---
It wasn’t perfect.
It wasn’t rushed.
It was hesitant. Careful.
Like neither of them quite believed it was real.
Jungkook’s hands hovered at Seokjin’s waist, uncertain, like he was afraid to hold on too tightly.
Seokjin tilted his head, feeling the soft press of Jungkook’s mouth, the way his breath shuddered against his skin.
It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t desperation.
It was real.
Slow. Unsteady.
Like they were learning how to breathe all over again.
And for the first time in weeks—
Seokjin didn’t feel like he was falling apart.
---
Dating should be easy.
Should be.
Except now, everything feels different.
Jungkook catches himself overthinking every little thing.
Does he hold Seokjin’s hand? Does he kiss him goodbye? What about in front of the others?
(What if he’s too much? What if he’s not enough?)
And the worst part? Seokjin notices.
One week in, they’re sitting in the dorm’s living room, Seokjin scrolling through his phone, Jungkook rigid beside him.
It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid.
They’ve been all over each other for weeks. They’ve teased and flirted and touched and—
But now, he hesitates before leaning against Seokjin’s shoulder.
And of course, Seokjin notices.
"You’re being weird."
Jungkook stiffens. "I’m not."
Seokjin turns to face him fully. "You are."
Jungkook groans, rubbing his face. "I don’t know what to do, okay?"
Seokjin blinks."Do about what?"
Jungkook gestures vaguely between them. "This. Us."
Seokjin stares. Then—he bursts out laughing.
Jungkook scowls. "What’s so funny?"
Seokjin shakes his head, grinning. "We spent a whole month flirting. Why is this harder now?"
Jungkook slumps. "Because it’s real now."
Seokjin’s smile softens. He nudges Jungkook’s knee with his own.
"It was always real, Jungkook."
Jungkook falters.
Something warm spreads in his chest.
And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so difficult anymore.
---
A few days later, they’re at the studio, waiting for the others to arrive.
Jungkook watches Seokjin scroll on his phone, a smirk forming on his lips.
Casually, he leans closer.
"Oh, hyung, by the way…"
Seokjin hums, distracted. "Hmm?"
Jungkook grins.
"I won."
Seokjin blinks. "What?"
Jungkook leans in further, voice smug.
"You fell for me first."
Seokjin scoffs, finally looking up. "Excuse me?"
Jungkook crosses his arms, triumphant. "You confessed first. That means I win."
Seokjin narrows his eyes. "I seem to remember you being the one who kissed me first."
Jungkook falters. "...That’s not the same."
Seokjin smirks. "It is. You gave in first."
Jungkook frowns, brain scrambling for a comeback. "...Doesn’t count."
Seokjin leans in, eyes glinting. "Oh? And why’s that?"
Jungkook opens his mouth—then closes it.
Seokjin’s smirk widens.
Jungkook groans, covering his face.
And just like that, everything feels easy again.
---
It’s late, and they’re the last two left in the practice room.
Jungkook sits on the floor, stretching, while Seokjin leans against the mirror, scrolling through his phone.
It’s comfortable. Natural.
At some point, Jungkook reaches out, fingers brushing Seokjin’s wrist before lacing their hands together.
Seokjin doesn’t even look up, just squeezes back.
They don’t hear the door open.
They don’t see Jimin step in.
But they do hear his dramatic gasp.
Jungkook jerks, nearly falling over. Seokjin—calm, unbothered—glances up.
Jimin points. "Oh my god."
Seokjin blinks. "What?"
Jimin sputters. "What??" He gestures wildly. "You’re holding hands!"
Jungkook stares at their joined hands.
Shit.
Seokjin, still infuriatingly calm: "Yeah?"
Jimin gapes. "You guys are dating??"
Jungkook flushes. "We—uh—"
Before he can figure out what to say, the door swings open again.
Taehyung strolls in. "What’s all the—" He stops. Looks at Jimin. Then at them. Then down at their hands.
Silence.
Then, Taehyung grins.
"Finally."
Jungkook groans.
---
Somehow, everyone finds out within minutes.
Jimin and Taehyung practically drag them back to the dorm, announcing the news like it’s a national event.
Hoseok, dropping his water bottle: "What?!"
Yoongi, deadpan: "Knew it."
Namjoon, rubbing his temples: "This is going to be a disaster."
Taehyung just shrugs. "Took you guys long enough."
Jungkook, meanwhile, is suffering.
Especially because Taehyung is on a roll.
"So when’s the wedding?"
Jungkook chokes. "Excuse me??"
Seokjin just laughs. "I’m free next weekend."
Taehyung nods sagely. "I knew this would happen. That’s why I set up the bet in the first place."
Jungkook glares. "You—what?"
Taehyung smirks. "You think I suggested that bet for fun? Please. I saw this coming ages ago."
Seokjin tilts his head. "Wait, so you—"
"Of course." Taehyung crosses his arms. "You two were circling each other for years. Someone had to do something."
Jungkook just stares, feeling betrayed. "You set us up?"
Taehyung beams. "And you’re welcome."
Jungkook groans.
Seokjin? He just squeezes Jungkook’s hand and laughs.
And somehow, it feels like everything turned out exactly the way it was meant to.