𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗚 || ᴛᴀᴇᴋᴏᴏᴋ

• C H A P T E R 35 •

The air around the university basketball court was already buzzing with electricity as the clock ticked closer to game time. Students filled the bleachers, voices rising in excited chatter and rhythmic claps. Banners waved, red and yellow flags swaying with the crowd’s energy. The quarter-final match wasn’t just any game it was the game. Red vs. Yellow. A rivalry thick with tension, pride, and unfinished scores to settle.

The court itself gleamed under the gymnasium lights, polished to perfection, echoing every step of the players warming up. Among them, Taehyung stood out like a storm amidst a drizzle.

Decked out in the red team’s sleeveless jersey and matching shorts, Taehyung looked like he belonged on the cover of a sports magazine. His muscles rippled with each movement the defined biceps flexing as he adjusted his jersey, the veins running faintly down his forearms, the firm line of his jaw clenched with silent focus.

His tall frame stood regal and unbothered, a black bandana tied securely over his dark hair, the loose ends fluttering slightly every time he moved. Sweat glistened lightly on his collarbones and neck, evidence of the brief warm-ups, and yet he looked like he hadn't even started. Calm. Composed. Dangerous.

Yoongi jogged up beside him, spinning a basketball with lazy precision on his finger. His own smirk mirrored Taehyung’s usual one subtle, deadly.

“You good?” Yoongi asked, glancing sideways at him.

Taehyung cracked his neck, eyes already scanning the court. “Better than ever.”

Just then, the Yellow team’s players began gathering at the half-court line. Among them was their captain, Park Jinsoo, a lean, cocky senior with bleached hair and a constant smirk that never quite reached his eyes. He strutted toward Taehyung with all the swagger of someone used to getting under people’s skin.

“Well, well,” Jinsoo drawled, twirling the ball on his fingertip like it was a showpiece. “Captain Kim. Still clinging to your little team of misfits?”

Taehyung didn’t even blink. “Misfits?” he echoed, tilting his head. “That’s cute. I didn’t realize your entire play style was stolen from old YouTube compilations.”

Yoongi snorted from the side, quickly turning it into a cough.

Jinsoo’s eyes narrowed. “Cocky as ever. Hope your arrogance holds up when you’re losing.”

“I don’t need arrogance,” Taehyung replied smoothly, stepping just a little closer, his tone low and lethal. “I’ve got skill. And a team that doesn’t choke under pressure.”

The crowd nearby murmured, picking up on the tension. Jinsoo’s smirk faltered for a split second, his jaw twitching. “You talk big, Kim.”

“I play bigger.”

Taehyung’s voice was cold, sharp, and delivered with a casual confidence that cut deeper than any shout could. His eyes locked on Jisoo’s, unwavering. The silent threat in his gaze was clear, Come at me.

Jinsoo scoffed, throwing the ball roughly into the air and catching it. “We’ll see who’s laughing at the end of the game.”

Taehyung turned away without a word, already walking toward his bench as the whistle blew, signaling team huddles. His back was straight, movements fluid like a wolf in a pack of stray dogs.

Yoongi followed, still smirking. “You know you’re terrifying, right?”

“I know,” Taehyung said simply, pulling his jersey tighter across his chest and tying his bandana tighter.

From the crowd, the red team’s fans erupted into cheers as the announcer began the pre-game introductions. Taehyung stood in the center with his team, hands on hips, chest rising with slow, controlled breaths.

And somewhere in the building not that he’d admit it he hoped a certain wide-eyed boy would be watching.

Because if Jungkook was watching…
He wanted him to see what he was made of.
He wanted him to know exactly who he was falling for.

The school corridor was abuzz with game-day excitement students wearing red or yellow face paint, waving flags, snapping photos, and filling the halls with chants and teasing jeers. Jungkook walked beside Jimin, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his white university hoodie, the roar of the basketball match already beginning to echo faintly from the open gymnasium doors.

"Are you sure we’re not late?" Jungkook asked, adjusting the bag slung over his shoulder.

"We’re not late," Jimin replied breezily, slinging an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “We’re fashionably delayed.”

Jungkook chuckled softly, but his nerves refused to settle. Today was Taehyung’s big game, and even though he hadn’t said it out loud, his entire body was restless at the thought of seeing Taehyung in action again. The last time they were in the same space, there had been stolen glances and awkward silences, blushes hidden behind nonchalance. Today… he didn’t know what to expect.

As they neared the side entrance of the gymnasium, Jimin suddenly paused, rummaging through the small canvas bag he carried. “Ah—wait, before we go in,” he said, pulling out a folded flag. “Here.”

Jungkook took it with a grateful smile — only to frown a second later. “Wait…”

The flag fluttered open in his hand, bright yellow.

“Jimin…” Jungkook looked up at him, bewildered. “This is the Yellow Team’s flag. Taehyung’s playing for the Red Team. Shouldn’t we be supporting him?”

Jimin’s lips curved into a devilish smile. “Exactly.”

Jungkook blinked. “Exactly what?”

“That we’re waving the Yellow flag,” Jimin said, giving Jungkook a playful nudge before leaning in closer. “We’re going to make a certain someone mad.”

Jungkook’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You want to make Taehyung… jealous?”

“Mhm,” Jimin hummed, clearly delighted with himself. “He’s been walking around all dark and brooding lately like he’s some mafia boss. Let’s shake him up a bit.”

“But—” Jungkook protested, holding the yellow flag awkwardly between his hands. “Won’t that just make him hate me more?”

“Oh, please,” Jimin rolled his eyes. “That man doesn’t hate you. He’s in denial. And besides, jealousy is a great motivator.”

Jungkook bit his lip, uncertain. “Still, it feels kinda wrong.”

“Trust me,” Jimin said, tugging Jungkook along. “You’ll be waving that flag, and he’ll be shooting daggers with his eyes from across the court. Maybe it’ll finally push him to confess.”

Jungkook blushed furiously. “W-Who said I wanted him to confess?!”

Jimin raised a brow and gave him a smug side-eye. “You’re wearing lip tint and curled your lashes this morning. Don’t play innocent.”

Jungkook groaned and covered his face with the flag. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet you still follow me around,” Jimin grinned.

As they stepped into the gymnasium, the sudden burst of cheers, the pounding rhythm of sneakers on the polished wood floor, and the echoing voice of the announcer all enveloped them. Jungkook glanced down at the yellow flag in his hand again, heart fluttering nervously.

TO BE CONTINUE