Chapter Text
“Alright, that’s enough! Bring it in, guys!” Coach Yun called them to the edge of the court.
Jeongguk shook out his hair, sweat coating his brow, and accepted a fistbump from Namjoon on their way over. He’d screwed up his last three-point shot, but hopefully Coach Yun’s nose had been too buried in his notes to notice. The rest of the potential team crowded around, loudly comparing plays and making bets on the final lineup.
“Stop stressing, Jeongguk-ah. You outshot everyone here,” Namjoon reassured him.
Jeongguk chewed his bottom lip, nerves already racing. “Except for you.”
Namjoon clapped him on the back. “Well, obviously. I taught you everything you know.”
“And modestly, too,” he snorted.
Namjoon ignored his comment, turning instead to tease Yoongi, who stood beside them eyeing the pile of red, white, and black jerseys on the bench. “You should probably just nab the smallest jersey. No need to wait for the roster.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. You think I’m guaranteed a spot.”
“If I don’t get to play center at least three games this season, I’m calling you out for liking Namjoon more,” Park Bogum jokingly threatened Coach Yun.
“You’ll get what I give you, and you’ll be grateful you’re on the team at all,” he retorted.
Bogum just grinned wide. “So I did make it.”
Coach Yun glared at him. “That’s not what I said.”
“That’s basically what you said,” Seokjin confirmed, coming up behind them.
“Okay, quiet! All of you! Listen up! Before I tell you who’s starting, I’m gonna list off the names of the full roster. If I don’t call your name, sorry but it’s just not your season. Come back next year and try again. And if it’s your last season, then tough luck. It’s not my fault you can’t play.”
Jeongguk rolled his eyes. Coach Yun was known for his no-bullshit attitude, but he was actually a massive pushover if you’d been on the team long enough. He’d made it every season since freshman year, lucky enough to get in to university on an athletic scholarship. They had a strict tryout policy in place, though; just because someone made it one year didn’t mean they were guaranteed a spot the next. It didn’t matter how many scholarships or years of experience they had under their belt. Everybody tried out.
“Now, if I do call your name, I want you to go grab your jersey. I’m just going down by number. Yoon Jeonghan, 55...Yook Sungjae, 50...Park Chanyeol, 43...Choi Youngjae, 40…”
He kept count in his head. Five players on the court, thirteen spots in total. So far, nine were left.
“Kim Yugyeom, 33…”
“Congrats, man!” Jeongguk whispered, high-fiving Yugyeom before he ran over to collect his jersey.
“Jung Yoonoh, 31...Kim Mingyu, 24…”
Things were getting tight now. Jeongguk took a quick headcount as more guys headed for the stack of jerseys. There were six spots left, and ten of them still on this side of the court. The odds weren’t looking good.
Coach Yun ran his finger down the roster, like he’d lost his place. “Oh. Park Bogum, 22…”
A group of guys he didn’t really recognise clapped enthusiastically, and Bogum bowed graciously to their coach, dorky grin on his face as he dashed to collect his jersey.
Jeongguk tried not to resent Bogum, he really did. He just wished the guy would get better friends. And it didn’t help that he brushed Jeongguk off every time he attempted to be civil.
“Kim Seokjin, 15.” Coach Yun glanced up at their little huddle as soon as he called Seokjin’s name, just in time to see Jeongguk, Namjoon, and Yoongi erupt into cheers, pushing Seokjin over with the other players.
“Min Yoongi, 13…”
“That’s our Daegu boy!” Jeongguk whooped, clapping Yoongi on the back.
Yoongi just ducked his head, but a small smile graced his face as he headed over to the other side of the court.
He felt proud of Yoongi and Seokjin, obviously, but he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t feel a trickle of apprehension now. Only three spots left. But he already knew one of those had to be going to Namjoon.
Coach Yun let out a long sigh.
“Jeon Jeongguk, 05.”
“Fuck yeah!” he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.
“Language, Jeon.”
Jeongguk smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Coach. Just excited.”
His coach just snorted, shaking his head. Jeongguk stayed on this side of the court, though, waiting to hear the last two players on the roster. All four hopefuls were shifting anxiously on their feet, all except for Namjoon, who seemed confident he would make the cut. Jeongguk was confident, too. If anyone was guaranteed a spot, it was Namjoon.
“Choi Minho, 04,” Coach Yun called. Minho exhaled in relief as his friends passed around high-fives and fistbumps. There was another teammate who could do with some better company. Luckily, it didn’t look like most of his other friends would be making it. As soon as Minho got across the court, he sidled up besides Bogum, and they exchanged congratulations.
“And last but not least…”
Jeongguk made eye contact with Yoongi and Seokjin on the other side of the gym. A silent agreement passed between them.
“Kim Namjoon, 01!” they shouted in unison.
Coach Yun waved a hand. “What they said. The rest of you, thanks for coming to this season’s tryouts. Keep practising. I mean it when I say I want you all to come back. Other than that, focus on your classes. Don’t do anything Namjoon wouldn’t do. I’ll see you around campus. Come talk to me if you have any questions. But please, no complaints. I get enough from the faculty.”
The three remaining hopefuls didn’t seem too upset; a couple milled around to chat with the selected players, while the other headed out for the evening. Jeongguk knew they were mostly here to support Minho and Bogum. This season should be interesting...there was definitely a bit of a social divide in the team. They’d have to work that out before the first game. Although, most of those factors were outside of his control. Besides, it was their friends with the problem. Not Jeongguk’s. Well, one friend in particular really.
A commotion by the jerseys caught Jeongguk’s attention. The guys were crowded around something, talking loudly, or making comments under their breath. What the hell? Was the volleyball team here? Curious, Jeongguk and Namjoon headed over to see what they were all worked up about.
He should’ve known.
“Hey, back the hell up. I’m just here to ask Coach Yun about the schedule for this season. I need to know which days we can practice in the gym.”
Jeongguk slowed in his approach, eyeing the lithe brunette by the stack of jerseys with distaste.
Bogum must’ve heard his voice. He perked up immediately, like a dog listening for his master to come home.
“Taehyungie!” he called, pushing through the crowd. Bogum gave the guy currently hovering over the brunette a dangerous glare, and he backed off immediately. Probably the safest bet. Minho followed close behind Bogum, apologising to the players whose toes were stepped on in Bogum’s haste.
“Bogumie,” none other than Kim Taehyung, dance captain and royal pain in his ass, purred. Jeongguk tried not to gag, but he couldn’t help it. Taehyung’s feline eyes narrowed the moment he spotted Jeongguk. “I know it smells like shit in here, Jeon, but you’re not allowed to gag if it comes from you.”
“Actually, I was just choking on your gallon of designer perfume. What are you trying to hide? The stench of your last desperate hookup?”
He really couldn’t help it at this point.
Taehyung’s pink lips curled into a winning smirk. Well, winning for everyone except him, at least. “Now that’s no way to talk about your friends. Right Seokjin-hyung?”
The guys listening in let out whoops and catcalls at that, and Seokjin blushed an incriminating deep scarlet.
Jeongguk rounded on him, furious. More for Seokjin's dignity than for anything else. “You’re kidding.”
“I...w-well, not exactly…” Seokjin stammered.
Even Namjoon arched an eyebrow at that, Yoongi clapping slowly.
Jeongguk stared at the traitor. “I can’t believe you.”
Taehyung frowned, tugging on his full bottom lip. “Sorry if I started something. I thought you knew, golden boy. Oops. Anyways, this has been nice. Bogum, Minho, I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Bogum was eyeing Seokjin with a little too much contempt for Jeongguk. Just because one of his best friends apparently slept with Taehyung -for the upteenth time)- didn’t mean he wouldn’t deck their teammate for him.
“Someone’s jealous,” Yoongi muttered under his breath. What a keen observation.
“Bogum.” Taehyung prompted again, snapping his slender fingers. “Park Bogum. Bogum-hyung.”
He tore his stormy gaze from Seokjin. “Yeah, of course, Taehyungie. I’ll see you later.”
“Mm,” Taehyung nodded. As he brushed past them, the scents of lavender, cedar, and rose assaulted Jeongguk’s nose. He didn’t miss the hand that trailed up Seokjin’s arm.
The second Taehyung was occupied with Coach Yun, Jeongguk snatched Seokjin’s arm and dragged him to the edge of the court.
“I want an explanation. Right now.”
Namjoon and Yoongi came up behind him, jerseys in hand and just as many questions. Quietly, Namjoon passed Jeongguk the jersey with 05 printed on both sides, though he barely registered hanging it over his shoulder.
Seokjin rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “He’s not a bad guy, Jeongguk.”
“I beg to differ,” Jeongguk argued. “And I think my opinion is worth a little more than yours on the matter.”
“Can’t you just let it go? It’s been years. He’s actually really nice when you’re not around. Well, maybe nice isn’t the right word,” Seokjin added as an afterthought. “Sweet. Yeah, he’s sweet. And uh…” he lowered his voice, like he had any secret worth keeping. “...really good in bed.”
Namjoon shoved his clenched hands into his pockets but kept his mouth shut. Seokjin was an idiot. The basketball star has been head over heels for him since they were sophomores, and he had been fucking around with Kim Taehyung for a year instead. Jeongguk definitely knew which of the two he’d pick. And it wasn’t the diva in designer kissing up to their coach.
“Literally no one wants to hear about how good he is in bed. How about how good he is at being the world’s biggest asshole?” Jeongguk offered.
“Can’t argue with that one,” Yoongi agreed, glancing in Taehyung’s direction. “And he definitely gets around. So uh, just don't get too attached.”
Seokjin rolled his eyes. “You guys are acting like I want to take him out to dinner or something. Trust me, there are no feelings attached. You should know that by now.”
Jeongguk wanted to press him further, but a disgusting simper echoed across the gym.
“But Coach Hwang said we could be in here Wednesday nights,” Taehyung appealed to Coach Yun, eyes wide, feigning an innocence Jeongguk knew for a fact he didn't possess.
His coach seemed to be struggling to verbalise his complaint. “Dance team already has Mondays. And your own practice rooms. My boys need consistency.”
“Go collect your boyfriend before he steals all of our time slots,” Jeongguk hissed to Seokjin.
He shook his head. Clearly, he didn't think it was worth getting involved. “Not mine to collect. Shame Bogum stormed out.”
Jeongguk craned his neck, searching the gym. Huh. Bogum had stormed out. Serves him right.
“I understand, Coach,” Taehyung sighed, faking a remorseful smile. “And I appreciate your help. I’ll just pass on this schedule to Coach Hwang, then, and ask her to change the times per your request. All I can hope is that this won’t impact our competition practices too much. You know how mean she gets when she’s stressed.”
That manipulative little bitch.
Coach Yun took the paper from Taehyung, frowning. “Well...maybe dance team could have Wednesdays. We could always take the time to work on something else. Team-building, maybe.”
“Really?” Taehyung gasped, oozing authenticity. Jeongguk felt like gagging again. “Oh my goodness, thank you so much!”
He signed the schedule for approval and passed it back to Taehyung. “No problem, Taehyung-ssi. Let me know if you have any more problems.”
“I will, Coach.” He clasped his hands in gratitude. “Again, thanks!” Taehyung didn’t forget to flash Jeongguk his manicured middle finger as he passed by again and headed out the large gymnasium doors.
“Go screw yourself, Kim,” he jeered after him.
Taehyung whirled around, challenge alight in his eyes. “Wanna say that a little louder, Jeon? I couldn’t hear you over the blaring sound of jealousy.”
“Jealous of what? Your crowd of friends who only stick around because they want to fuck you or your pathetic simpering attitude that gets you everything you want?” Jeongguk took a step closer, meeting his daring gaze.
“At least people actually like me, and I don’t have to buy their affection.” Taehyung sing-songed. The insult struck a furious chord in him, too close to home. Too close to things he wanted to forget, and that Taehyung had no fucking right to hold over him.
“Knowing you’re an easy lay isn’t the same thing as liking you, darling,” he informed him sweetly. “But whatever keeps you from breaking down again in our morning lecture is fine by me. You’re an ugly crier.”
Brow furrowed in anger at the mention of the other morning, Taehyung retorted, “Lucky thing I’m only ugly when I cry, then. Imagine having ratty hair and giant front teeth twenty-four-seven. Now that would be tragic.”
Shrugging off the insult, Jeongguk replied, “The only thing more tragic would be having a personality the size of a grain of rice and manipulating your way into a dance captainship you didn’t deserve.”
“Jeongguk, that’s enough,” Namjoon interjected, a hand on his shoulder.
“Aw, how cute,” Taehyung sneered. “Little Jeonggukkie can’t fight his own battles so he gets his friends to do it for him.”
Seokjin swept past them to Taehyung’s side, squeezing his slender arm. “Taehyung, don’t. Please. You’re just arguing for the sake of arguing now. Let it go.”
Taehyung bit his lip, glaring at Jeongguk who glared right back, before flicking his gaze up to meet Seokjin’s.
“Fine. I’ll leave it. But Jeon can go fuck himself.”
“Why would I when you’ll let just about anyone do you?” Jeongguk threw one more jab at him, smirking as Taehyung returned his attention to him. There was nothing he loved more than seeing those familiar dark eyes gleam with fury.
“Your perception of me is so fucking skewed, you might want to try glasses,” he hissed, straining against Seokjin’s grip to get to him.
Jeongguk tapped his cheek in satisfaction. “Twenty-twenty, baby. Sorry. It’s why I’m the only one who sees through your bullshit.” Namjoon swatted his arm, a clear Let it go. But he ignored him.
“Or you’re just fucking blind, and haven’t realised yet because your friends are too nice to point it out.”
“Okay, Taehyung,” Seokjin tried to soothe. “You have practice in a few minutes. You should go.”
Taehyung tore his gaze from Jeongguk. “Yeah. Alright. I’m going.” He spun on Jeongguk, jabbing a finger at him. “And for the love of god, don’t open your mouth and let me leave in peace.”
So absolutely fed up with him, Jeongguk didn’t argue and just watched him push through the gym doors with far more force than necessary.
“I hate him,” Jeongguk spat as soon as he was out of earshot.
“We know,” Yoongi grumbled, speaking for the first time since they’d argued. “It’s all you talk about. Ever. Constantly. So much that if someone overheard you, they’d probably think you were in love.”
“Repeat that to anyone and I’ll set your bed on fire with you in it.”
“Okay, no need to get violent,” Namjoon reasoned, letting up his grip on Jeongguk.
“Especially seeing as if you set Yoongi’s bed on fire, the whole dorm’s going to burn down, there’s so much cheap booze on it,” Seokjin chimed in. “Which would be mildly unpleasant for the rest of us.”
Jeongguk turned to look at him. “Mildly unpleasant?”
He shrugged. “I said what I said.”
“Jeon! Min! Kim and Kim!” Coach Yun called. “Come over here for a second.”
They jogged over to where their coach stood. The air still reeked of lavender. And as expected, Coach Yun chose to turn a blind eye to the fight that just took place. He was well aware of Jeongguk’s and Taehyung’s opinions of each other, and, like an intellectual, decided not to interfere.
“You’re all starters this season. Obviously, I won’t have to make too many adjustments to your jerseys. No one grew from last year, or changed their last names. I should have the other colours to you by the end of the week.”
Jeongguk nodded, hanging the black and red jersey over his shoulder. He’d won games in this jersey; it still had blood on it from that guy whose nose he’d broken last year. By accident, of course. He was glad he didn’t have to part with it this year.
“Namjoon, I’m going to have you and Bogum rotate center this year. Whoever isn’t playing center that game, I want to take shooting guard. I meant to talk to him about it, but I guess he took off. It’s both of your last seasons, so I want to give you as much spotlight as I can.”
“Thanks, Coach,” Namjoon grinned, content with his position. More modern coaches had switched to playing open court- anyone could jump on any position. But Coach Yun was a traditionalist, and preferred that everyone make a specific contribution. Less confusion, he said.
“It’s probably not a surprise, but you’re playing wings again this year,” Coach Yun informed Yoongi. “And for the last time, the term small forward isn’t an insult.”
“I’m allowed to take it however I choose,” Yoongi countered.
“Take it as a compliment for once, please,” their coach muttered. “Jeongguk, point guard. Not much else to say there, you’ve been playing the position since you were a freshman.”
And five years before that, too. Jeongguk fell in love with basketball towards the end of middle school. Yoongi got him interested in it, said it would do him some good to have a focus. It took his mind off of everything else that was going on. Early on, he realised that he had been made to play point guard; he loved the thrill of it, the careful calculations, the scrapiness that came with diving headfirst into the center of the game.
“And Seokjin-”
“Power forward?” Seokjin interrupted.
“Power forward,” Coach Yun confirmed. “That’s all. Feel free to head out. First official practice is on Thursday.”
Thanks to Taehyung, Jeongguk thought savagely.
“I can’t believe I made starter this year,” Seokjin marvelled once they were out the door. Evening was setting in; autumn leaves swirled in the cool, gentle breeze whistling through the campus. They settled in reluctant piles on the concrete by their feet.
“You’ve earned it,” Jeongguk praised, animosity over the whole Taehyung thing forgotten with the good news.
“You really have,” Namjoon agreed, giving Seokjin a warm smile. Yoongi grunted his assent, not feeling the need to comment any further.
Seokjin examined his shoes. “Thanks, guys.”
“I’m starving,” Yoongi announced. “If we don’t hunt food down right now, I’m eating Jeongguk.”
“Good luck chewing through all that muscle,” Namjoon snorted.
“Trust me,” Yoongi said, eyes gleaming. “I’ll find a way.”
Jeongguk took a nervous step back. “We need to get this man some food right now. I’m not interested in being a Gukkabob.”
“I just don’t understand what his problem is,” Taehyung complained to Jimin and Hoseok. “I try and play nice, and he gets all angry. So then I play it his way, and he’s still a fucking dick about it. He should have to pick one. It’s not fair.”
“Just say he gives you a boner and go,” Jimin remarked, earning an acerbic glare from Taehyung.
“On the plus side,” he continued. “Seokjin dicked me down again this morning and it was fantastic.”
Hoseok scrunched his nose up in disgust. “Really? You had morning sex of all sex with Kim Seokjin?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Taehyung asked, taking a sip of his lavender boba tea. “Neither of us have class until eleven on Tuesdays. And he’s handsome right out of the shower. And even more handsome when he has to take a second one.”
“Gross,” Jimin and Hoseok commented in unison.
“Oh, so we can talk about the boner you apparently think I have for Jeon but I can’t talk about the actual sex I’m having. I see. This is a setup, and I will not stand for it.”
“Thank goodness you’re sitting down, then,” Hoseok snickered, scooping up a mouthful of bibimbap. Taehyung reached across the table and flicked Hoseok’s forehead, earning a loud, “Bitch, I’ll cut you.”
He noticed Jimin’s eyes wandering not a moment before the blonde whistled, “Speak of the devil. Jeon and his boy band were itching for bibimbap I guess.”
And indeed, the quartet of jocks were pushing through the double glass doors, talking as loudly and obnoxiously as ever, with enough Bro’s and Man’s and Dude’s thrown in to convince anyone they got plenty of pussy. Good thing Taehyung knew better. Shame he just wasn’t in the mood right now to make Jeon Jeongguk’s life a living hell.
The group made their way to the counter, hovering around as they waited for their orders to come out.
“I’m sure they’re celebrating the season’s lineup,” Taehyung ventured disinterestedly. “Probably all starters.”
“You know, hating them would be a lot easier if they weren’t good,” Jimin whined. “But we’ve won nationals two years in a row thanks to them.”
Hoseok reluctantly nodded. “We wouldn’t have gotten to dance in Jamsil Arena if it weren’t for them making the championship.”
“I’m not making you hate anyone.” Taehyung sat back in the red booth, arms crossed. “In fact, I don’t have a problem with most of the team. Just-”
“Yeah, Jeongguk, we know.”
Unfortunately, the conceited bastard seemed to be waiting to hear his name. Prime example of why Taehyung never said it out loud. His head perked up immediately, curious eyes searching the restaurant until they made direct contact with Taehyung. Instead of backing down, he just stared right back at Jeongguk, arching an eyebrow. The latter responded by shaking his head, incredulous expression plain as he turned to go crying to his friends no doubt. And just like Taehyung thought, they all “subtly” looked back at them. He caught Seokjin’s eye and offered him a small smile. He wasn’t really in the mood to flirt either, but he could be nice.
“The hell are you smiling at?” Jimin asked, turning around to glance behind him. “Oh. I should have known.”
Hoseok didn’t even bother turning, choosing to sip his sprite in peace.
Taehyung pushed them out of his mind, half-heartedly picking at his rice. His appetite went out the window real quick. Of course, the one time he didn’t want to pick a fight, Jeongguk was apparently itching for one.
“I didn’t know the great Kim Taehyung ate hole-in-the-wall bibimbap like the rest of us commoners,” Jeongguk commented as him and his friends passed. God, Taehyung so badly wanted to divulge his last little secret right there. It would be so easy; Jeongguk even set it up for him. He’d finally win this stupid game. But he held his tongue. He hated Jeongguk, but he didn’t like being hated by Jeongguk. Even after all these years, it still felt wrong.
Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi didn’t stop, just slid into a booth a ways from theirs. Seokjin lingered though, torn between staying out of it and making sure they didn’t get into a full-blown fight. Taehyung didn’t look at him.
Instead, he replied, “It’s close to campus. And cheap.” Taehyung shouldn’t have to justify his dinner selection to him.
“Since when do you care if a restaurant’s cheap?” Jeongguk pried. “You drop thousands on designer brands, but this is your standard for food?”
So clearly, Taehyung’s facade was working. If only Jeongguk knew, maybe he’d have the common decency to feel a little remorse.
“Why the hell do you care?” Jimin instantly jumped to his defense. Taehyung reminded himself to get Jimin flowers.
Taehyung pierced Jeongguk with a flat stare. “I work hard so I can buy the things I want. I want Gucci sunglasses. I don’t want to spend that much on food that’s probably gonna taste the same anyway. Seriously, have you run out of things to insult me with? I mean, it was bound to happen. Unlike you, I only have so many flaws.”
Jeongguk brushed his raven hair out of his eyes. It had gotten long over the summer. Far too long.
“At least I don’t sleep with your best friends.”
Seokjin, who had been hovering cautiously behind Jeongguk, turned a faint pink and hurried over to join their other two companions. Coward. He would punish him for it tomorrow. He’d been itching to use the handcuffs tucked in his bedside drawer.
“That’s probably because none of my friends would settle for your tiny dick,” Taehyung shot back. He knew if Hoseok had to suppress a laugh, he’d done a fair job.
Jeongguk raised his regal brows. “I didn’t realise you’d thought so much about the size of my dick, Kim.”
Every conversation with him was exhausting.
“It’s hard not to when that’s where you keep ninety percent of your ego. Although I have no idea how it all fits in there.”
“You’re one to talk about ego,” Jeongguk snorted.
A dull throb began to knock at his skull. All he wanted to do was lay down in his dorm and ignore the philosophy paper (of course the only fucking class he had with Jeongguk) he had due tomorrow that he hadn’t even started. Unfortunately, he had other obligations.
“Whatever,” Taehyung finally snapped. “I don’t have time for this.” He slid out of the booth and tossed twelve-thousand won on the table. “I’ll catch you guys later,” he said to Jimin and Hoseok.
“Call me after work, okay, Taetae?” Jimin asked, concern written in the furrow of his brow.
“‘Course, Chim.”
He could feel Jeongguk’s prying stare boring into the back of his head as he left the restaurant. It almost hurt when Seokjin didn’t acknowledge him on his way out.
...
“You clockin’ out, Taehyung-ah?” the club’s manager stopped him just as he shoved his stilettos back in his locker.
Taehyung glanced up. “Planning on it, yeah. I’m already half an hour over.” A client had offered him an extra forty-thousand won to ride his thigh and although he rarely accepted bribes, he was kind of desperate these days.
Manager Jang gave him an apologetic smile. “Would you mind sticking around for another hour? Kwangsu called in saying he was going to be late. Something about his aunt spraining her ankle.”
He rolled his eyes. “You know as well as I do that he’s just getting high before coming in.”
“Please, Taehyung-ah? You’re making extra money. I don’t see what the problem is.”
Taehyung leaned against the bank of lockers. “The problem is that I have a philosophy paper due in…” he checked his phone, “...five hours. And I’d actually like to spend three of those hours asleep.”
Jang didn’t harbour much sympathy for his situation. “You should’ve taken care of that before the morning it was due. I’m not losing money because you procrastinated an assignment. Now get your expensive ass back out there. Besides, all the guys are drunk by now, and you know that’s when the best tips come in.”
“Jang-ssi!” Taehyung pleaded. “Make Minjun-hyung do it, please!” He really wanted to go home.
“No. You always bring in more. Now go. That’s final.”
Fuming, Taehyung unlocked his locker again and snatched the nude sequin stilettos back out, doing the straps up his legs over the cream lace stockings.
“I’ve gotta admit, I like the new dress, Taehyung-ah,” Jang commented.
“It’s not a fucking dress.” Taehyung tightened the bow of his gold satin sleeveless shirt.
“It looks like a dress.”
Taehyung checked his hair in the large backlit mirror. “I wear what I’m told to wear. Apparently I didn’t make the skimpy vest and tie cut this year.”
Jang chuckled. “Guys don’t like you for your non-existent abs, Taehyung-ah.”
Wetting his fingers, he scrunched more curls into the dark locks. “Really? I hadn’t noticed. You’d think two years in this hell hole would’ve taught me as much.”
“You gonna keep that attitude on the floor?” Jang asked as Taehyung reapplied his cherry lip gloss.
“Maybe.” He smacked his lips together, smirking back at his manager even though in his heart, he really didn't have the energy for this shit right now. “Everyone loves a brat.”
“Well, get going, brat. We haven’t got all night.”
“And yet you think I do,” Taehyung muttered, brushing past his manager through the locker room door.
“What was that?” He didn’t miss the warning in Jang’s tone.
“Nothing, Jang-ssi. Is Hojin-hyung calling me out again or should I just go?”
“Just go work the floor. If we decide we need you on stage, he’ll call you up.”
Taehyung nodded. “Got it.”
As soon as he was out of the back hallway and under the pulsing blue lights of the club, his demeanor switched completely. Even if he was exhausted, he had to pretend like he was having the time of his life. That’s how you made money, after all. Taehyung scanned the crowd, still packed at two in the morning, composed largely of older men in black leather chairs and couches. Sin drew a certain type of crowd. They were what one could consider a variety club; they offered a little more than the usual grimy bar scene. Each of their dancers were trained professionally, dressed to cater to particular breeds of patrons, and required a hell of a lot of money just to get in. As far as stripping gigs went, Taehyung figured he could do worse.
His eyes narrowed as he selected a target. A man, maybe in his mid-thirties, sat a little farther from the stage. The man had come alone. He wanted to be there, but was too inexperienced to feel comfortable participating. But the watch glittering on his wrist caught Taehyung’s attention. Rolex. He needed a little bit more than that to confirm he had money, though, so Taehyung took a quick peek at the quality of his shoes. Polished black leather. That was good enough for him.
Taehyung sauntered through the crowd, pausing every now and again to indulge the fleeting whim of a customer, bills tucked in the ribbons of his shirt, eyes never leaving his target.
“You look a little lonely,” he purred, perching on the arm of the man’s chair. At this point, his tricks were so well-rehearsed, it felt like he just ran his night on autopilot. “Mind if I keep you company for a minute?”
His large, deep set eyes took in Taehyung’s form, the way he sat with his back curved, slender legs crossed daintily.
“I suppose…” the man hesitated. Taehyung’s gaze flickered only briefly to the silver band on his ring finger. Oh, he knew his type. Failing marriage indicated a need for control.
“Don’t worry,” Taehyung giggled, hating the fake high-pitched timbre of his voice. “I’ll only touch you if you want me to. And only in the way you want me to. I wouldn’t want to do anything to make you upset.”
The man’s eyes darkened at that. “How much for a dance, darling?”
Taehyung tugged on the little silk bow around his waist, pretending to think. “It depends on how much you want out of me, I guess. I’ll give you a show right here for everyone else to see, and that’d run you about twenty-five thousand. Or you and I could go somewhere a little more...private. Have a drink or two, and I’ll give you a personal dance. Maybe cost forty-five. But of course, it’s up to you, sir.”
“All that for only forty-five thousand? They’re not giving you enough credit, baby boy.” Thick fingers crept up his side, coming to rest lightly on his hip. Well, at least he knew what kink to exploit.
“You haven’t even seen me dance yet,” Taehyung said, voice breathy. “But I wouldn’t stop you if you thought I earned more. I’ll work really hard for you, daddy.”
This night was going to be longer than he thought. Jimin had probably blown his voice out screaming at him through voice mail.
The grip on his waist tightened. “We’ll see, won’t we? Lead the way, baby.”
…
With over 500,000 won in total in his jacket pocket and his shift officially over, Taehyung drove across the city back to the campus. The commute was a pain in his ass, and cost him way too much in gas, but it was worth not running into anyone he knew. When he got back to his dorm, he hurried up the stairs and into his room. Heavy bass reverberated from another room on the floor. Probably Yugyeom, if he were to wager a guess.
He dropped his duffle bag on the floor and promptly collapsed onto his stiff bed, plugging in his phone. Six missed calls displayed on the screen. Four from Jimin and one from Seokjin. He wasn’t really in the mood for Seokjin’s three am booty call, so he ignored them. He was more interested in his background; a photo of his dad asleep, cuddling Yeontan. Taehyung gazed fondly at the picture for a moment. He missed days like that.
The last missed call was from his dad. Why would he be calling him at this hour? Immediately apprehensive, Taehyung called him back.
The phone rang once, twice, three times…
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d actually gone to bed at a decent hour,” a raspy voice chuckled across the line.
Taehyung grinned, relieved he was okay. “Of course not, Appa. You know me better.”
“You know, all this night-owl business is gonna ruin your health when you’re old and wrinkly.”
“Were you a night-owl?” he teased, and then instantly regretted it. “I mean-”
But his father’s laugh rang out over the line. “You could say that. See, Taehyung-ah? It’s no good for you.”
“I stay up to study. What’s the point in getting old and wrinkly if you don’t have a career?”
“My little scholar. What’s keeping you up tonight?”
Taehyung guiltily shifted the wad of bills in his pocket. “Philosophy paper.” Technically not a lie.
“What does a dance major need philosophy for?” his dad asked, clearly skeptical.
“Well, if you think about it, philosophy is the essential nature of things, right? The world at its most bare and vulnerable. And dance is sort of an expression of philosophy in that sense. A...personification of the way humans interpret purpose, existentialism, and reality. And a coping mechanism, I guess.”
The call went silent for a moment. Then, “Are you sure you don’t want to switch your major?”
Taehyung chuckled. “Appealing, but I’m pretty sure my life’s calling isn’t debating the moral obligations of human existence on a red leather chaise lounge.” Although it could make for a kinky roleplay.
“You wouldn’t make as much money, anyways,” his dad joked.
“And that’s always the endgame, isn’t it? You got the check I sent last week, right?”
“Yes, but-”
“And the hospital? They got theirs, too?”
A heavy sigh filled the air. “Yes. It’s all taken care of. But I’m worried about you. You must be working yourself into the ground. There’s only so many hours you can pick up waiting tables.”
The pile of guilt in his chest only grew. “I work at a nice restaurant, Appa. Don’t even worry, okay? The customers always...always tip really well.” He swallowed the lump in his throat threatening to break.
“You know I’m going to worry regardless. But I’ll do my best not to get too worked up over it. I’ll have to come visit sometime while you’re working. Surprise you. What’s the place called, again?”
Panicking, Taehyung said, “That’s too far for you to come! Think of all those hours spent sitting, it’ll only worsen your back pain. I’ll take some time off for a trip home this semester, instead.”
“But I’m going crazy here, kid. I can’t remember the last time I saw something new.”
A wistfulness lingered in his dad’s voice that struck a blue chord in him. Taehyung wondered if this restlessness had anything to do with him being up well past midnight.
“I’ll bring something new to you, okay? At least you’re back home again.”
“You’re right. At least there’s that. Make sure the new thing is really exciting. It’s gotta make up for months of the same voices and sunrises and creaky floorboards. Something special.”
Taehyung couldn’t explain why he was choking up, but the words were hard to force out. “I promise, Appa. Something special.”
“Thanks, Taehyung-ah. I can always count on you.”
Muffling his shaky breaths, Taehyung asked, “Is everything else going okay?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to hear your voice. I’ll let you get back to it now. Don’t stay up too late, kid, I mean it. You’re not invincible.”
He glanced at the duffle bag on his floor. “Trust me. I know.”
“You’re gonna rock that paper. I know it. Now get some sleep. And try to call me sometime during normal human hours.”
“I will.” Taehyung smiled, eyes watery. “G’night, Appa.”
“Night, Taehyung-ah.”
Taehyung sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at his lockscreen. Tears streaked down his face, no doubt smudging his eye makeup and cutting chalky tracks through his foundation.
He couldn’t do it anymore. But he had to. This job was the only reason his dad still had a roof above his head and blood cells that did their job. Quitting wasn’t an option. He didn’t make enough as it is. He needed to pick up more shifts, or start at a new place. Anything to make sure his dad was taken care of.
His phone rang again, screen displaying ‘Jiminie,’ the source of four of his missed calls.
C’mon, Taehyung. Pull yourself together.
Wiping his cheeks, he answered.
“Hey, Chim.”
“Kim Taehyung, I swear to god, if you ignore my calls ever again I’m tying you to the flagpole and leaving you there.”
“Uh...kinky?”
“No!” Jimin gasped. “Well, maybe a little. But that’s beside the point. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Jang just asked me to work late. One of the other guys called in a family emergency so I picked up the first hour of his shift.”
He knew Jimin got worried because of the atmosphere of his work, but luckily, he’d never been judgemental about it. Jimin understood. He’d been there through all of it. His mom, his dad...Jeongguk, even. And so, Jimin was the only one who knew. And Taehyung preferred to keep it that way.
“Did you at least make some good money?”
“Pretty good for a Tuesday night. The last guy I saw was very generous.”
“Well, if you’re gonna work extra hours I’d hope the guys are thankful. Imagine going into Sin and not seeing Kittae.”
Taehyung groaned, falling back on his pillows. “Oh my god, Jimin, for the last time, that’s not my stripper name.”
“It should be. It’s a good one.”
“It’s really not.”
“Since you won’t tell me your real one I have to keep coming up with them,” Jimin grumbled. “Did you finish your philosophy paper?”
“If by finish, you mean written exactly three sentences, then yes. Completely finished.”
“I’m not done either. You want me to come over there with snacks and we’ll knock this one out together?”
Taehyung felt like crying again. “Park Jimin...will you marry me?”
“We’ve been married for like six years now but sure, I’m down for another ceremony. We’ll pay for it in two-thousand won bills.”
“Fuck you,” Taehyung retorted, but his laughter betrayed him. “I’ll see you in a few.”
When he hung up, he felt considerably more light-hearted than he had ten minutes ago. That was Jimin’s magic. The moment he touched the lives of other people, he brought light into them. It didn’t matter how minimal the contact. Taehyung wished he could do the same for him.
The flash of hands over his teammates’ heads caught Jeongguk’s attention. Quick as lightning, he passed the ball in a perfect arc, heading up to the basket before it even landed within Seokjin’s grasp. The telltale sound of the ball falling through the net told him to race back to half-court. Another three-pointer under their belt.
This three-on-three match only continued to grow in intensity; Jeongguk, Seokjin, and Minho versus Namjoon, Yoongi, and Chanyeol. So far, they were losing by eight. And apparently, Yoongi had decided to make it his life’s mission to rain hell on Jeongguk.
He’d suggested they start doing the three-on-three's during their first practice, when Coach Yun was coming up with ideas for team-building exercises. Jeongguk offered to organise the matches and reserve a space for them. What their coach didn’t know was that Jeongguk held the matches in the gym on Wednesdays, and they didn’t end until the dance team showed up. Getting to see Taehyung’s pretty eyes narrow in fury whenever he walked into the gym to see them playing felt more satisfying than any victory.
The pounding of the ball on the hardwood floor brought his attention back to the game.
Chanyeol and Seokjin checked the ball, and Chanyeol ran with it as soon as it came his way. Stepping around Namjoon, Jeongguk darted across the court but Yoongi headed him off, daring half-smile on his lips as he guarded Jeongguk. He tried to slip under his guard but Yoongi predicted this, stepping into the turn and elbowing him away from Chanyeol. They weren’t playing a regulated game so no one watched for fouls. Cursing, he tried to see past the pale skinny arms in front of him. The ball streaked over his head; Chanyeol must’ve passed to Namjoon. Jeongguk already prepared himself for the sound of the ball slamming against the backboard and the swish of the net.
“Forty-one to thirty,” Yoongi announced, just in case he didn’t know. The pair jogged back to half, breathing heavily.
His teammates pushed him up to check with Namjoon. The latter smiled kindly at him as he approached the line, but he wasn’t going to fall for his tricks.
They passed back and forth three times. The second the ball fell into Jeongguk’s hands again, familiar ridges and lines brushing against hardened calluses, he shot forward, evading Namjoon’s long reach and streaking for the hoop. This was the start of their redemption, he could feel it. The air whistling past his ears and the pounding of pursuing footsteps not far behind him. He was closing in now, arms raised to shoot. The ball…
Left his fingertips before he even put any momentum behind the shot.
Looking around in confusion, he finally spotted it on the edge of the baseline, spinning on a slim finger. His teammates raced up behind him. Minho was laughing his ass off.
“What the fuck, Taehyung?” he shouted. He had been so close to getting them back on track. How the hell did Taehyung even grab it from him? There’s no way he moved that fast.
Taehyung tucked the ball against his hip. “It’s seven. On a Wednesday. Which means it’s our timeslot.”
Jeongguk only now noticed the group of people standing behind Taehyung, guys and girls clad in black or white tank tops and flexible pants.
“This is the third week in a row, Jeon. I’m starting to think you do it just to piss me off.” Taehyung adjusted the collar of his black pullover, tossing the ball back to Jeongguk.
He caught it on reflex. “I wouldn’t put that much thought into something for you,” he growled, even if that was exactly what happened. It’s only fair. The dance team had been encroaching on their practices more and more. So what if they scheduled their three-on-three matches to end right before they got there? That’s revenge. He was telling the captain that they couldn’t be pushed out so easily.
Taehyung tucked a lock of chocolate hair behind his ear, smirking. “Well, you know what they say. Once is an accident. Two is a coincidence. Three is destiny.”
“I’m destined to break your nose one of these days.”
He felt Namjoon’s hands on his shoulder. “Calm down, Guk. He’s just…”
“Playing,” Seokjin finished, walking over to the baseline. “Right, Taehyung-ah?”
The snarl immediately faded from Taehyung’s face. He melted under Seokjin’s attention. It was infuriating to watch.
“Yes, hyung,” he agreed, voice deceptively soft. “Just playing. I really hate to do this to you guys again, but, well, I'm sure you know, next Friday is the first game and we’re still trying to adjust our routine to fit the bigger space in here. By next month, I’m sure we’ll have the spacing down enough to give you your Wednesdays back. I’m sorry.” Taehyung blinked up at Seokjin, a hand splayed intimately on his chest.
Jeongguk turned away, disgusted. Yoongi and Namjoon followed as he went to put the ball back. The gym filled with the dance team’s chattering, the noise grating on his ears.
He didn’t want to look back but he couldn’t help it.
Seokjin and Taehyung were standing far too close. He couldn’t see Seokjin’s face but he could see Taehyung’s, eyes crinkling into little crescents as he laughed at what could only have been one of Seokjin’s terrible puns. It looked...weird. Taehyung wasn’t wearing his usual sultry pout. In fact, he wasn’t trying to flirt at all. He smiled widely, rare trademark boxy grin shining through. The memory of his bright smile caused Jeongguk’s heart to ache...if only for a brief second. Seokjin’s hand rested on Taehyung’s waist. They looked comfortable. Like a couple. It wasn’t a secret that they’d continued hooking up this past year, even if Seokjin liked to pretend no one knew. He wondered if it was really possible to have casual sex for that long without attaching any feelings.
Jeongguk glanced at Namjoon, jaw set in irritation. So he wasn’t the only one seeing how close they were. Quietly, he padded over to him.
“What do you think is going on with those two?”
Namjoon’s eyes never left Seokjin’s back. “I don’t know. Nothing good. He knows how much being with Taehyung hurts you, so I don’t-”
“It doesn’t hurt me,” Jeongguk snapped. “It just feels like betrayal a little, okay? Taehyung’s not a good person, and I’m afraid Seokjin is going to get hurt.”
“Jeongguk, you can’t call him a bad person just because you got in a fight in high school. That was literally five years ago.”
He knew seeing Seokjin with Taehyung probably hurt Namjoon more, but here he was, playing the devil’s advocate for him. Always the impartial judge.
Frustrated, Jeongguk said, “It was more than a fight, hyung. It’s like he became someone else. I couldn’t even recognise him after a while.”
Fortunately, Namjoon didn’t get to press him more because Taehyung suddenly stepped back from Seokjin and called out, “Chungha, could you go set up the music? I think the speakers are still hooked in. Hobi-hyung, do you mind leading a round of warmups while I take one last look at spacing?”
Hoseok stepped forward from the rest of the team, cheerful grin on his face as he motioned everyone onto the court. Jeongguk missed Hoseok a little, but he’d be ten times more likely to admit that out loud than anything to do with Taehyung.
A short blonde girl disappeared from the crowd and climbed into the commentators’ box to fiddle with the sound system.
Taehyung and Seokjin headed their direction, resuming their conversation. They were still laughing when they stood right in front of the trio by the basket.
“Are you planning on sticking around?” Taehyung directed the question to Seokjin, but Jeongguk answered for him.
“No, we were just leaving.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes, rounding on him. “I wasn’t talking to you, Jeon. I invited Seokjin-hyung to watch our routine and give me feedback. I couldn’t care less what the rest of you do. Well, except Yoongi-hyung. He’s honest. I want him to stay, too.”
Yoongi looked taken aback, face falling into a frown. “What?”
“Sit down.” Taehyung pushed Yoongi into a seat on the bleachers, and he complied easily, too shocked to cuss him out for touching him. Taehyung then did the same for Seokjin, but unfortunately, Jeongguk caught the whisper of, “And don’t you dare take your eyes off me.”
Resigned to their fate, Jeongguk and Namjoon reluctantly sat between the two and watched Hoseok finish warmups. The dance team had formed three lines, and Taehyung strutted to his place in the center of the first, facing the bleachers. He rubbed Hoseok’s arm, thanking him for leading, and the senior dancer fell into place beside him. Park Jimin whispered something to Taehyung, who just shook his head.
Chungha must’ve figured out the audio because she bounced down the home side of the bleachers and slipped into the first line as well, holding a little remote. She looked to Taehyung.
“...Five, six, seven,” and on beat eight, she pressed the button, sliding the remote into her leggings pocket.
Jeongguk braced himself the moment music came over the sound system. He knew the dance team was good. Arguably the best in the country as far as the university scene went. And he knew Taehyung was good.
But he’d gotten better.
The familiar beat to Girls’ Generation ‘You Think’ sent the dancers into motion. The front trio dropped their hips, while the other dancers popped their chests, coaxing the three back up in pulses. They’d cleaned up the original choreography a bit, made it slightly less provocative for a school-sponsored sports event. But it didn’t matter. Lately, Taehyung brought sex into everything he did, and this time wouldn’t be any different. Sometimes Jeongguk wondered if it wasn’t intentional, if he truly didn’t know what he was doing. He tried to focus on anything else as the song went on; his own feet, the overhead fluorescent lights, his friends’ rapture. But he couldn’t. Just like them, he became a victim to the seduction Taehyung had so cunningly laid out for them. No. Not for them. For the student’s section which would undoubtedly be going wild come next Friday. And it was all thanks to the way Taehyung moved. All of the dancers were phenomenal, he couldn’t argue with that. Especially the front line of juniors and seniors. Taemin, Jimin, and Hoseok moved with an energy and passion that you couldn’t find anywhere else. But that’s the thing. Taehyung didn’t move like the rest of the guys.
Taemin, Jimin, Hoseok, Kai...they all got their momentum from their shoulders and upper body, grounding with their feet. But Taehyung danced more like Lisa, Seulgi, and Chungha, drawing his power from his hips and lower core, arms moving like he was parting water. And however much Jeongguk hated it, he couldn’t look away.
Taehyung wasn’t looking at him, though. He was looking directly at Seokjin, eyes gleaming as they fell into formation to highlight the season’s newcomers. He boosted a sophomore into a backflip, and she landed between Jimin and Hoseok who had slid into perfect splits.
And suddenly the song switched.
A fucking Girls’ Generation medley. Taehyung had to be targeting him on purpose. Targeting the muggy summer afternoons they would spend together in Taehyung’s sunbathed sitting room, blasting Girls’ Generation through his little old stereo, dancing without a care for who saw and singing at the top of their lungs. The bass from ‘Catch Me If You Can’ reverberated throughout the gym and the dancers’ movements got sharper, faster, thrusting and popping in time, switching positions. Taehyung danced in the center now, slender arms up as he gyrated to the beat. Jeongguk tried not to look as his sweater rode up, exposing his a strip of soft golden skin. Then the dancers parted, Hoseok leading a complicated step sequence that Jeongguk could barely follow.
And then the song changed and out boomed ‘I Got a Boy’ and Jimin was spinning into some sort of anatomy-defying flip. The dancers fell back into lines, perfectly synchronised as Chungha and a freshman girl he didn’t know went into cartwheels on the floor, landing back in their original spots.
The gym went silent apart from the heavy breathing of the dancers. Namjoon was the first to break the spell, claps echoing in the room. Then, Yoongi and Seokjin caught on, and finally Jeongguk. It would be petty to deny the whole team a boost of confidence just because he didn’t want to cheer for Taehyung.
“That one felt really good, guys. I’m proud of you,” the dance captain turned to address his team, smile on his face. It looked less fake than usual. “The first half-time show should be memorable, but for the right reasons. And I think we’ve got all of them here. Let’s take five, and then we’ll start getting into details, yeah?”
They nodded their assent and broke their flawless formation to mingle and sip from bottles of water. Taehyung stopped to exchange a few words with his friends. It sounded like they were recounting some of the mistakes of the dance, trying to figure out what they needed to go over. Jeongguk couldn’t imagine what mistakes, but then again, he didn’t choreograph the performance.
Taehyung skipped over to the bleachers not a moment later, more bubbly than Jeongguk seen him in a long time.
“So! What did you guys think?” They knew he aimed the question mostly towards Seokjin and Yoongi, so Namjoon and himself kept quiet.
Seokjin offered him a warm smile. “It was really good, Taehyung-ah.”
Taehyung frowned, clearly disappointed. “‘Really good’ isn’t good enough. It needs to be fantastic. I don’t care so much about flawless, you know that’s not my style, but it has to excite the crowd.”
“Exciting is one word for it,” Jeongguk snorted. He’d meant to keep that comment to himself. Oh well.
Taehyung sighed, focusing that sharp gaze on him. “I’m not in the mood for mind games, Jeon. Just use your words like a big boy.”
Fuck you, too.
“I’m not saying it wasn’t good. It was. But it was also a little…” Jeongguk tried to catch the eye of Namjoon or Yoongi, someone who would know what he was talking about.
“Slutty,” Yoongi finished. Thank you, hyung. “Not all of it. But like...enough of it.”
Taehyung arched a perfect dark eyebrow. “Do you remember what we won nationals with last year?”
Jeongguk fought off a blush at the memory. He wouldn’t be forgetting that one for a long time. It was a miracle he’d been able to play after watching that half-time show.
“Sure, but that was just the varsity team,” Namjoon reasoned. “So you can do songs like ‘Bad Guy’ because everyone on varsity was an upperclassman.”
“I was a sophomore,” Taehyung pointed out. “So was Jimin.”
“Okay, but this year it’s one team, and that team has freshmen on it.”
Technically, it didn’t matter all that much since everyone should be overage, but still, it gave the university a bit of a reputation.
Taehyung considered this, tongue poked out the corner of his lips as he analysed the overhead lights. He must have come to a decision because he faced the gym and called, “Hey, quick, listen up!” Every dancer’s head turned immediately and the room went silent. Jeongguk couldn’t help but be a little impressed; he’d trained them well. “Does anyone feel uncomfortable with the current choreography? You don’t have to say so here, but if you do, please talk to me one-on-one. I don’t want anyone dancing a routine that doesn’t make them feel good. That’s not the point of dance. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, I think my perception of what’s acceptable has probably gotten a little skewed over the years. So just let me know, alright? I don’t bite.” He glanced at Seokjin, mischief in his eyes. “Well, sometimes I bite. That’s beside the point. We’ll start again in two. We need to work out some spacing issues because Kai almost ran into Jiminie three separate times. That’s right, I counted. So prepare for that. That’s all. Thanks.”
“Taetae, I literally love this routine like my child and if you so much as adjust a hair on its head, I’m calling off our second wedding,” Jimin threatened from the floor where he sat with Hoseok. Were they...were they playing pattycake?
Jeongguk squinted.
Yes. Yes they were.
Seokjin repeated the words, “...second wedding?”
Taehyung nodded, like it was the most logical thing in the world. “I proposed again three weeks ago because he did something that made me feel extra soft. We figured another ceremony couldn’t hurt. Who’s to argue with twice as much cake?”
Jeongguk didn’t like the expression on Seokjin’s face. Or the way he wrapped his arms around Taehyung’s waist and pulled him close, knees pressed against Taehyung’s thighs.
“I’d buy you as much cake as you want, y’know,” Seokjin murmured.
Taehyung twirled a strand of Seokjin’s dark hair around his finger. “I don’t think you understand the sheer amount of cake that is.”
He didn’t want to listen. He didn’t want to see. But it got harder to ignore them when they were less than a foot away from him.
“How about after practice? We’ll go to that bakery you like right off campus. They stay open late.” Since when did Seokjin know his favorite bakery?
“Mm, that sounds nice. But I have work after practice, hyung. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll drive you to work, then.”
“Sounds like someone’s desperate to spend time with me.”
Jeongguk couldn’t stand it anymore. He got to his feet and started down the bleachers. By the two pairs of footsteps following him, clearly neither could Namjoon and Yoongi.
“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” Jeongguk spat as soon as they were outside. The sun had set, sky a stubborn indigo, glazed over with the glow of orange street lamps. “I thought it would blow over. He promised it would. But now they’re...I don’t even know. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Seokjin knew why Jeongguk hated Taehyung. Had welcomed Jeongguk into his and Yoongi’s friend group after he lost everything, and had given him a sense of friendship he thought he’d lost for good. And now he was falling in love with the bastard who cast Jeongguk out in the first place.
“Seokjin’s getting himself into something he’s not prepared for.”
Jeongguk glanced up. He didn’t expect Namjoon to agree with him so readily, but his brow furrowed, and he kept looking back at the gym doors like he expected Seokjin to appear.
“I’m not trying to speak against Taehyung because I don’t really know him personally,” Namjoon continued. “But he strikes me as the kind of guy who throws his toys away the second he gets bored with them. And I guarantee Seokjin is just another toy to him.”
He thought back to the way Taehyung had looked earlier, boxy grin on his face and crescent eyes.
“What if Taehyung actually likes him?” Jeongguk ventured timidly, almost afraid of the answer.
Yoongi sighed. “Then we let nature run its course? Look, I know this is hard for you. Both of you, actually. But it’s not our place to interfere. If they want to continue going at it like rabbits, that’s fine. If they decide to go on a few romantic dates and get to know each other, also fine. And if they break it off next week and act like total strangers? Guess what? Still fine. You guys can’t stop Seokjin from enjoying himself just because you can’t stand his fling and you’re too much of a coward to tell him you want to hold his hand.” Both Jeongguk and Namjoon shifted uncomfortably under Yoongi’s merciless criticism, examining the leaf-strewn concrete.
“You’re right,” Namjoon finally admitted.
“Of course I am.”
Jeongguk glanced back at the doors again. “Should we wait for him?”
Yoongi shook his head. “I have a feeling he’s very content right where he is. On another note, though, that routine told me all I need to know about their sex life. That eye contact was intense, I thought Taehyung was gonna devour him right there.”
“Great, now I have to think about that again. Thanks, hyung,” Jeongguk muttered, already working to shove away the image.
“I’m actually going to pass on that one as well,” Namjoon decided. “How about that three-on-three, though? We kicked your ass, Jeongguk.”
“If we hadn’t been so rudely interrupted, my team would’ve made the best comeback since 1998.”
“Utah was thirty-six points down. You were eleven. Still shitty, but there’s no comparison.”
Jeongguk gave a devilish grin. “I guess we’ll find out next Wednesday.”
“We should really stop playing three-on-three in there right before the dance team comes in. Taehyung wasn’t wrong when he said it looks personal,” Yoongi advised.
He shrugged. “And it just got a lot more personal.”
Yoongi stared at him in disbelief. “You’re getting yourself into a mess, Jeongguk. Messing with that guy is like playing with fire. You should hear the shit Jimin and Hoseok tell me about him. He's gonna stop playing nice one of these days, and it's gonna come around to bite you in the ass.”
“You make it sound like he hasn’t been trying to ruin me for ages. I’ve been the target since freshman year. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything too stupid. I just want to show him that he doesn’t own this campus, y’know? He has every coach, professor, and two thirds of the student body wrapped around his finger. He’s got everything. So a little opposition might just do him some good. Humility never killed anyone.”
“You realise he probably thinks the same thing about you, right?” Namjoon asked.
Jeongguk had never really thought about it. If Taehyung did think those things, he couldn’t be farther from the truth. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. This is about overthrowing the social hierarchy via coup d'etat.”
“I think you need to retake world history,” Yoongi scoffed.
“And I think you just don’t want to watch me succeed. So...pizza?”
...
Okay, this was going too far. Jeongguk could tolerate a lot. He could tolerate hearing Taehyung’s deep, sultry voice from across the room at eight in the morning, he could tolerate the flirting that they couldn’t seem to do anywhere else besides right in front of his table...he could even (barely) tolerate the cream stiletto -which apparently belonged to Taehyung- he found under Seokjin’s bed yesterday looking for a pair of shoes he’d let his hyung borrow. But Taehyung stealing his seat in Philosophy? That was crossing the line.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, standing over the table Taehyung and Seokjin currently sat at. The table that Jeongguk and Seokjin usually sat at.
“It’s not a big deal, Jeongguk,” Seokjin quickly tried to reason. “Just pull up a chair.”
Taehyung blinked his eyes open, dark and soft with sleep, looking up from where he had been leaning on Seokjin’s chest. “Mmm...What?”
“You’re in my seat.” He refused to fall for Taehyung’s bleary gaze. He’d seen him win arguments with that look alone; he had years of training for this moment.
“Oh…” Taehyung glanced around the lecture hall, like he didn’t even remember walking in there. “Sorry, Jeongguk-ssi,” he yawned and got to his feet. Taehyung pressed a kiss to Seokjin’s cheek before wandering over to the other side of the lecture hall and slipping into an empty seat. Within seconds, his head hit the table, eyes closed.
Jeongguk just stared after him. Seokjin had to snap his fingers to get his attention.
“Aren’t you going to sit down? Clearly the seat means a lot to you.”
Reluctantly, Jeongguk sat and pulled out his notes. He glanced back again at Taehyung, who appeared to be fully passed out now.
Leaning in to Seokjin, he whispered, “What’s up with him?”
He sighed, pencil tapping against the table. “He’s really tired. Well, he usually is, but I think last night was particularly rough.” Upon seeing Jeongguk’s confused expression, he elaborated. “Taehyung works nights. He goes to class from eight to six, takes an hour for homework, does dance from seven to nine, and then heads to work. He finishes work between two and four, then takes care of whatever homework he has left. But last night he was out until five, and he still had a project to finish for his Gender Performance class.”
Jeongguk felt an unwilling pang of sympathy for the dance captain. He had no idea Taehyung worked so hard. It didn’t excuse his behavior, but it explained why he had been so short-tempered lately.
One point still perplexed him, though.
“Where does he work that would force him to be out until four in the morning?”
“Bartending.”
Jeongguk nodded. That made sense. “Anywhere cool?”
Seokjin’s brow furrowed. “Actually, I don’t know the name of the place. I don’t think he’s ever told me.”
“I thought you drove him to work?”
“No, he never lets me. Says he doesn’t want me out that late to pick him up.”
“Huh. That’s considerate of him, I guess…” Jeongguk looked straight ahead, attention caught by their professor walking through the door. She turned on the projector and he was locked in for the rest of the class, the newfound mystery of Taehyung pushed out of his mind.
…
Warmups were winding to an end. Jeongguk had made forty-four of the fifty baskets he shot. Not a terrible average, but he could do better. This was the first game of the season and he was determined to win. An early victory always meant high morale for the team. Namjoon and Bogum had both made all fifty of theirs, Seokjin had made forty-two and Yoongi had made forty-eight. Minho and Yugyeom had both shot around thirty-five times and made all their baskets. The rest of the team had averaged over two-thirds. They had hope.
The team from Incheon looked pretty good, but Jeongguk felt confident that they were better. They’d won almost all of their preseason games, and they’d been practicing ceaselessly, or at least, as much as the dance team would allow them to. He felt like the second they left the gym, Taehyung was leading his dancers in there, insisting that they still had something wrong with the “spacing.” More like he just wanted an excuse to see Seokjin.
Speaking of, the dance team currently stood on the sidelines warming up with the pep band. All of the dancers were wearing variations of red, black, and white outfits, most even wearing the spare jerseys of players they were close with. Jimin and Hoseok were both sporting Yoongi’s extra jerseys. Jeongguk made a mental note to have a conversation with him about that later. And of course, just to be a bitch, Taehyung wore Seokjin’s red jersey over his black long-sleeve. The name Kim and number 15 were visible even from where he stood by the basket.
Jeongguk just gritted his teeth and waited for the telltale whistle that would signal the end of warmups. As soon as it did, he jogged over to the bench with the rest of his teammates.
“Alright, listen up,” Coach Yun said as soon as they got over there. “First game of the season. I know you’re all nervous, excited, adrenaline is rushing, all of that. But just remember everything we’ve worked on in practice. Breathe. Remember your plays. Think about where you put your feet. These Incheon guys look tough, but they’re nothing compared to you. Namjoon, I want you playing center first. Bogum, you’re good covering shooting guard?”
“Of course, Coach,” Bogum replied cheerfully. He seemed calmer than most of the team, stretching with a relaxed ease.
“Good. Jeongguk, we’re counting on you. You ready?”
Even though his heart raced with anticipation, he simply nodded, smile on his face. “Always, Coach.”
Coach Yun nodded approvingly. “Then let’s kick some ass, boys.”
The five starters raced onto the court as soon as the timer ran down. The stands were packed, cheers erupting when the buzzer went off. Jeongguk lived for home games, for the roar of the crowd, the familiar glossed hardwood under his sneakers, the band blaring their anthem, and yes, even Taehyung’s deep, excited voice leading rounds of chants, doing an effortless job of replacing the absent cheer team. (Traitors had chosen football as their sponsored sport this season). They were all staples of the game, memories he linked with the feeling of being home.
On the halfcourt line, they were met by the Incheon team’s starters and this game’s referee. They took their positions, Namjoon in front, across from Incheon’s center, a guy who’s jersey read Hyun, 11.
The call of the whistle sent the ball in the air. Namjoon tipped it back immediately to Bogum, who sprinted down the court. Jeongguk followed close behind, cutting off the forward that attempted to block Bogum. The player attempted to duck past him, but Jeongguk stepped into the shoulder check, allowing Bogum to pass to Seokjin. Their forward stood at the basket in a matter of seconds, Yoongi warding off attempted steals, and they scored the first two points of the game. Jeongguk could hear their side of the stands fill the arena with cheers, the band struck up a quick fight song, and as he jogged back to half he spotted Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok setting up a basket toss of their own.
They worked in nearly perfect synchronisation, the only slip-ups coming from the players who couldn’t stand each other. All those hours spent practicing were paying off. And actually, it was their unofficial three-on-three matches that seemed to be helping the most. The team knew each other’s moves by heart- where they moved, who they looked to, where they scored best from. Jeongguk felt a sense of pride, having been the one to suggest the matches in the first place. Mostly he’d done it to piss off Taehyung, but this was almost a more rewarding outcome.
By the end of the first half, they were up by thirty-two. The buzzer went off and all five players ran back to the bench, sweaty and panting. They could hear the band going into another round of the anthem.
“Bring it in, bring it in,” Coach Yun urged them, a rare smile on his face. They huddled around him, leaving space for their substitutes to join in. “You’re doing well, for the first official game. There’s always room for improvement, though. Bogum, you’re switching with Namjoon for this half, and Namjoon, I’m rotating Chanyeol in for this quarter. Seokjin, I need you to be more aggressive. I’m putting in Yugyeom for you. Yoongi, I need you to be less aggressive. We’ve given them three penalty shots because of you. I’m switching you out for Minho. We’ll reevaluate after this quarter.”
Yoongi didn’t protest, shrugging. Seokjin gritted his teeth, but held his tongue. Jeongguk wondered why he looked so eager to play. Namjoon seemed fine with the switch, though, and made no comment.
“Jeongguk, are you good to keep going?”
He nodded. Adrenaline had already begun coursing through him. Even if he felt tired, sitting down would just be frustrating. “I’m good.”
Coach Yun gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear. Take the rest of half time. Catch your breath, drink some water, watch the dance team. Whatever’s gonna get you motivated for the second half.”
Watching the dance team sounded like the least motivating thing to Jeongguk. It hadn’t been so bad last year when Momo had been captain because he could avoid looking at Taehyung. But now that he stood front and center, watching the dance team felt like a punishment. Besides, how Taehyung came into the captaincy was beyond him. Yeah, he was a fine dancer. Pretty good, if he were to be fair. But Hoseok and Taemin were phenomenal dancers. Jeongguk had never seen anyone better. And they were seniors. If Jeongguk were to guess, captaincy was an electoral position, and somehow Taehyung had convinced last year’s team to elect him instead. It wouldn’t be beneath him.
The dance team glided seamlessly onto the court then to the raging applause of the stands. The band quieted as the sound system came to life, and an expectant hush fell over the room. Taehyung counted off silently, tossing his dark hair as he eyed the crowd. His eyes were lined with soft coral shadow and brown liner, lips a cherry gloss. Something predatory gleamed in his gaze, something that brought the audience to the edge of their seats. Jeongguk even found himself tense on the metal bench; as always, he couldn’t look away.
And then the beat thrummed to life and they were off. The routine looked cleaner and more fluid than it had been last week, if that was even possible. All of the dancers exuded a confidence they had been missing, especially the underclassmen.
Beside him, he heard Namjoon lean over and whisper to Seokjin, “I’m surprised you let him wear your jersey.”
Jeongguk subtly watched Seokjin for his reaction, surprised when he simply smiled, eyes never leaving Taehyung. “He was going to wear Bogum’s. I persuaded him to change his mind.”
He didn’t want to think about what persuaded entailed.
The medley had switched into the second part. Taehyung’s highlight; the other dancers falling to the floor as Taehyung hit his moves in perfect rhythm, twisting his arms and gyrating his body in a way that Jeongguk couldn’t even fathom.
“Look at Bogum,” Yoongi whispered in his ear.
Intrigued, Jeongguk glanced farther down the bench. Bogum’s gaze followed Taehyung at every turn, but he seemed far less composed than he had during the game. Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. Jeongguk had a sneaking suspicion his attitude had something to do with the jersey on Taehyung’s body. Even if it made him equally as angry, Jeongguk felt a wave of satisfaction knowing that at least Seokjin had bested him.
Their dance came to an end two minutes later, performance flawless. Taehyung beamed under the cheers, eyes bright with happiness and relief. Jeongguk realised then just how important this performance had been to him. It was his official debut as dance captain since the cheerleaders got every pep event, and if it didn’t go off without a hitch, his entire season would be filled with doubt and his team wouldn’t trust him anymore. He felt the same way about tonight’s game. If they didn’t win, their confidence and dynamic was in jeopardy. Hopefully, they could pull it off as cleanly as the dance team.
Six minutes were left of half time, and typically the players, dancers, and band mingled during this time or zoned out to stay in the headspace of the game. Jeongguk usually opted for the latter. So he focused on the other team, watching how they moved and interacted, running through plays in his head. Namjoon, Yoongi, Yugyeom, and Chanyeol remained on the bench with him, but Seokjin, Bogum, and Minho all headed for where the dancers were stretching.
Jeongguk ignored them. He knew exactly what they were all there for and he wasn’t interested in watching Taehyung tend to his harem. Instead, he documented how quick on their feet the Incheon players were off the court and tried to recall how each player had moved. There would undoubtedly be substitutions, but they were all coached by the same person, and that influence went a long way.
But it was hard to ignore the way Namjoon kept turning his head to see Seokjin, always turning back a moment later with a disappointed sigh. After the eighth time, Jeongguk couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Just talk to him, hyung, for fuck’s sake.”
Namjoon glanced at him in surprise. “What?”
Jeongguk sighed. “Seokjin-hyung. Talk to him. It’s clearly eating away at you.”
“And the rest of us are tired of you acting like a kicked puppy,” Yoongi added, voice monotone.
“I’m not acting like a kicked puppy,” Namjoon defended himself, highly affronted. “It’s just frustrating to watch. Taehyung doesn’t love him, but Seokjin clearly loves him. He deserves better than to throw himself whole-heartedly at a guy who’s never going to return that unconditional affection.”
“Then tell. Him. That.” Jeongguk emphasized each word, wondering how he could be any clearer.
Namjoon shook his head. “It’s not my place to interfere. Seokjin can make his own choices. And right now he’s choosing Taehyung.”
“Because he doesn’t know that he has other options,” Yoongi stated. “And he’s never going to know if you keep it all to yourself. If you think about it, you’re actually being kind of selfish. Taehyung is going to get bored with Seokjin and drop him faster than Jeongguk dropped the ball in practice yesterday-”
“Hey!” Jeongguk interjected, indignant. “That was one time! And it was slippery with your nasty sweat.”
“The point is,” Yoongi pressed on. “By not telling Seokjin your feelings for him, you’re basically making Taehyung his only option. So it’s going to hurt ten times more when Taehyung ditches him for Bogum or some other self-obsessed jock.”
Namjoon pursed his lips, uncharacteristically annoyed. “Maybe Taehyung won’t leave him. Maybe they’ll start dating.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “And if they do, it’ll last all of two weeks. We’ve been over this. They’re not compatible. Seokjin is a romantic who likes all that gooey shit and consistency. Taehyung is noncommittal; he likes excitement and feeling needed. It won’t work. All the more reason to make your point now, I think.”
The two-minute alert went off. Coach Yun beckoned them to the sideline, and Namjoon never got a chance to disagree with Yoongi. He gave them a few more instructions, telling them how to fix any mistakes they’d made in the first half and singling out players from the other team that might pose some problems. Incheon had rotated in their tallest, meanest looking guys, and a shiver of nervousness spread through his body. But Jeongguk pushed it aside. It would be fine. They had a good team. Chanyeol, Minho, Bogum, and Yugyeom were some of the tallest guys he knew, and deceptively fast. Jeongguk refused to be the weak link.
“Everyone got it?” Coach Yun asked. They all nodded. “Good. Then go bring this home.”
Bogum headed out first, the rest of them close on his heels. The ref blew his whistle, and the ball went up. Jeongguk prepared to dart after it if it tipped in Incheon’s favor, and it did. He tore after the player who ran with it, guarding him close, looking for an opening to steal the ball. Another Incheon player came up behind him, and shoved him out of the way. Side aching, Jeongguk listened for the telltale whistle to signal the foul but none came.
Oh, so they caught every little elbow of Yoongi’s but somehow missed a full-blown shove from the other team?
Annoyed, Jeongguk tried to block their shot, but the ball sailed over his head and into the hoop. Incheon was twenty-seven away from catching up now. Still a wide lead, but not a great way to start the second half. The opposite side of the stands clapped and cheered loudly. Whatever. It’s the only thing they’d have to applaud for the rest of the night.
Except that’s not quite how the rest of the night went.
By the time the buzzer went off at the end of the quarter, Jeongguk’s team was losing by eight. Incheon had somehow made a miraculous comeback, scoring twenty-five points in under fifteen minutes. But it was no mystery how they’d managed to get so far ahead. They got away with fouls left and right; not a single time did the whistle blow, even when Yugyeom was ruthlessly pushed to the ground by one of the other team’s players. Chanyeol’s nose was bleeding. Jeongguk could feel a bruise blossoming on his side. Bogum was holding his wrist where another player had twisted it, and Minho was limping. Even the stands were in uproar, booing the ref and calling substantial bias.
Coach Yun was furious.
“Seokjin, get back in there for Chanyeol. I can’t have someone bleeding on the court, it’s a safety hazard. Chanyeol, there’s a medic on the way. Jeongguk, I’m putting you out for the last quarter.”
“What?” he exclaimed. “No! I need to be playing! What if-”
“That’s final,” Coach Yun cut him off. “If they’re going to play like this is prison basketball, then I can’t risk you getting hurt. You’re on the bench for the rest of the game. Mingyu, step in for him.”
“Got it, Coach,” Mingyu nodded. Determination glinted in his eyes.
Jeongguk bit his cheek, furious. He needed to be out there, taking this game back for them. Coach Yun switched out the rest of the team as well, putting in Youngjae, Jeonghan, and Yoonoh. The buzzer sounded and the team was gone, already pounding onto the court. Trying to suppress his temper, Jeongguk sat rigidly on the bench. No one spoke. Even their side of the stands had stopped chattering, watching for fouls with eagle eyes.
The last quarter was a disaster. Yoonoh tripped over his own feet at least three times, Seokjin missed the only two free throws that were called, Mingyu did his best to stay on guard and break through their defense, but the other team wasn’t afraid to shove him and step on him. Jeongguk felt every blow. The pressure of losing became too much.
The final score was sixty-two to forty-five. It was devastating and infuriating and unjust. They didn’t deserve to lose this game. They’d worked their asses off in practice only to be beaten by a team that cheated their way to victory. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Coach Yun didn’t even shake the Incheon coach’s hand.
They stayed in the gym long after the stands had cleared out. The dance team sat there with them, offering to rub the players’ sore muscles and bitch about the unfairness of it all. Seokjin sat dejectedly between Taehyung’s legs, the dancer’s nimble fingers undoing the knots in his shoulders. Hoseok massaged Yoongi while Jimin braided his hair. Even that image wasn’t enough to bring a smile to Jeongguk’s face.
Once the gym was truly vacant besides the two teams, Coach Yun stood in front of them and whistled for their attention.
“I know today didn’t go as planned,” he began, sighing in defeat. “It’s not going to do us any good to dwell on the things we can’t change. Sure, we can state the obvious: they played dirty. But it doesn’t matter. In the official standings, that was a legitimate game, which means we officially lost.”
“Great pep talk, Coach,” Yugyeom commented from the floor. The rest of the team murmured their agreement.
Coach Yun levelled him with a sharp stare. “I’m not done yet, Kim.” He waited until the players fell silent, then continued. “However frustrating this is, we still made mistakes. We still have things we can improve on. And it all boils down to movement. It was sloppy tonight, guys. You held it together that first half but the heat wasn’t up as high. As soon as it got intense, you stopped thinking about your footwork and started tripping all over yourselves. Now, I didn’t ask the dance team to stay to rub your backs. I’ve talked with Coach Hwang and Taehyung-ssi, and they’ve agreed to practice with you once a week on movement.”
Jeongguk couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Extra practices? Taught by Taehyung? It felt like a slap to the face.
“Is this a punishment?” he burst out. He couldn’t help it.
Taehyung snapped his head up from where he’d been murmuring in Seokjin’s ear.
“Are you really that dense?” he hissed. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself again. It’s not a punishment.”
“Extra practice with you sounds like a punishment,” he retorted, refusing to back down. “You don’t know the first thing about basketball.”
Taehyung pulled his hands away from Seokjin, glaring at him. “And you don’t know the first thing about moving without blocks of lead attached to your feet. It’s no wonder you couldn’t guard those Incheon guys, you could barely pick your feet up long enough to take two steps.”
Jeongguk balled his fists. He opened his mouth to shoot a stinging remark back, but his coach interrupted him.
“That’s enough! Both of you! Stop arguing like children. These practices are for your benefit,” he told the team, mostly speaking to Jeongguk. “So don’t get angry with Taehyung-ssi when he’s giving up his time and energy to help you ungrateful lot, per my request. Now hit the showers. I expect you all here on Monday at six-thirty with a serious attitude adjustment.”
The basketball team were surprisingly quiet, simply nodding their assent. Jeongguk kept his mouth shut, but he ached to protest. This was a terrible idea. They weren’t going to get anything done, and it would just add to their problems.
Coach Yun dismissed them and the team made their way to the locker room. Jeongguk, Namjoon, and Yoongi paused to wait for Seokjin, who seemed to be soothing Taehyung. The little diva’s face was pinched, like he was going to cry. Seokjin whispered something to him, but Taehyung shook his head and got to his feet. He brushed past Seokjin without saying anything and followed his team out the doors. Seokjin stood in silence by the stands until Namjoon walked over to him and put a comforting hand on his back. Quietly, he led him to the locker room, Jeongguk and Yoongi exchanging confused looks behind them. What did Seokjin say to Taehyung? Why was he so upset?
Jeongguk pushed the thoughts away. He had his own problems to worry about. If Seokjin wanted to talk about it, he’d be there to listen, but other than that, he saw no point in occupying his mind with it. Not only had they lost their first game, but he had to go break the news to his undoubtedly disappointed parents tomorrow over an agonising dinner. This was shaping up to be a fantastic weekend.