The next day, the university campus was alive with the usual bustle — students pouring into the courtyard, laughter in the air, books clutched to chests and phones in hand. But Jungkook walked through it all like a ghost, his steps slow, his eyes dull, his backpack hanging loosely over one shoulder.
He hadn’t slept much.
His eyes scanned the familiar path out of habit — and then froze.
Just ahead, under the large tree near the art building, stood Taehyung.
And right beside him… her.
The same junior girl from yesterday. The one who had caught him when Jungkook accidentally shoved him. The one who had unknowingly stolen something from Jungkook in a single moment.
She was smiling, head tilted, her cheeks tinged with a shy blush. Her hand played nervously with the edge of her skirt as she spoke, clearly flustered.
Jungkook’s eyes flickered to Taehyung.
Tall, hands in his pockets, face as unreadable as ever. No smirk. No warmth. His expression was cold, passive — like he was barely present in the conversation. He wasn’t smiling back. Wasn’t even really looking at her.
But he also wasn’t walking away.
Jungkook’s stomach twisted. He tore his gaze away, blinking hard as he walked faster, head lowered.
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.
He repeated it like a mantra in his head, but the lump forming in his throat said otherwise.
From a distance, hidden just behind a row of lockers, Jimin watched silently, arms folded, eyes flitting between Jungkook’s retreating back and his brother under the tree.
And a few paces away, Yoongi leaned against a pillar with his usual blank face, jaw tight, a knowing look in his sharp eyes.
It was obvious to them both.
Taehyung was hurting too.
But neither he nor Jungkook knew how to stop it.
Jungkook gripped the strap of his backpack tighter, nails digging into the worn fabric as he forced his feet to keep moving. He didn’t spare another glance at the scene under the tree. Didn’t let himself look back. Not even when he could still feel Taehyung’s presence like a weight on his chest.
The hallway was crowded, voices echoing off the walls, but it all felt muffled in Jungkook’s ears — like he was underwater. His jaw was tight, lips pressed in a thin line as he pushed past groups of students laughing and chatting, barely registering any of them.
He reached the classroom early.
Too early.
Most of the seats were empty. The sunlight streaming through the windows cast soft golden lines across the desks, dust motes floating in the air.
Jungkook slumped into his seat at the back.
He let out a shaky breath and rubbed his sleeve roughly against his eyes, angry at himself. Why does it hurt so much?
You’re the one who said you didn’t love him.
You’re the one who rejected him.
But those excuses felt paper-thin now. He hadn't meant it. He’d been scared. Confused. Taehyung had been harsh and teasing, yes, but he had also made Jungkook feel seen. Like no one else did.
And now he was just… invisible again.
Jungkook’s eyes drifted toward the classroom door involuntarily, waiting.
Hoping.
But Taehyung didn’t come.
Jungkook kept his eyes fixed on the wooden desk, tracing invisible patterns with his fingertip. His mind was racing, but his body felt slow — heavy, as if all his energy had been drained by just walking into the classroom.
The door creaked open.
He didn’t look up.
But he heard the soft footsteps.
Then the familiar voice.
“Hey.”
Jungkook glanced sideways and found Jimin standing beside his desk, a small frown creasing his brows.
Jimin didn’t wait for an answer — just pulled out the chair next to Jungkook and sat down heavily, letting his bag slide to the floor with a thud. He leaned forward, arms crossed on the desk, eyes locked onto Jungkook’s face.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Jungkook gave a short nod, not meeting his gaze. “Yeah.”
“Liar,” Jimin said bluntly, but not unkindly.
Jungkook stayed quiet.
Jimin sighed and leaned closer, voice even lower now. “I saw you in the corridor. You saw him, didn’t you?”
Jungkook’s jaw clenched. His eyes flicked toward the window, anywhere but at Jimin. “…It’s none of my business who he talks to.”
“But it bothers you.”
Jungkook didn’t respond. His silence spoke louder than words.
Jimin tilted his head, watching him closely. “You know… just because you said you didn’t love him… doesn’t mean your heart agreed.”
“I didn’t say it for fun,” Jungkook muttered bitterly. “He scared me, Jimin. He was… he is intense.”
Jimin hummed, nodding slowly. “Yeah, he is. But he was changing. For you.”
Jungkook bit his lip, hard.
Jimin hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer. “That girl… she’s just a new junior. From the art department. She tripped and kind of clung to him in the hallway. It wasn’t what it looked like.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly. He turned toward Jimin, heart skipping. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” Jimin confirmed, firm but gentle. “Yoongi hyung asked around. He was worried too.”
Jungkook looked down at his hands. His chest was tight. Embarrassed. Relieved. Guilty.
“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.
Jimin smiled faintly and bumped their shoulders. “Start with being honest. With yourself. And then with him.”
Jungkook nodded slowly, eyes distant.
Maybe… it wasn’t too late.
TO BE CONTINUE
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𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗚 || ᴛᴀᴇᴋᴏᴏᴋ
Fanfiction𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐆 "seon-bae wh-what ar-are y-you doing?" - Jungkook blushed "People call me red flag but for you I'll be that every color which you like" - Taehyung ➥ In which Jungkook a nerd coward boy became Obsession of a mafia bad boy Kim Taehyung...
