Chapter Text
Taehyung had a quiet student life. Or at least, he tried to. Peace wasn’t easy to maintain, and sometimes life liked to throw… annoyances his way. And annoyances, in his world, had a name:
Jeon Jungkook.
He was the embodiment of everything Taehyung despised on this earth. Zero shame. Zero merit. Zero empathy. A walking headache with muscles and cockiness as a personality trait.
Thankfully, Taehyung didn’t have to see him every day. Well… peace always came with a price, after all.
"Come on, my sweet little Taehyungie, just one date. It's nothing, right?"
The voice alone made Taehyung's eye twitch. Great. As if the universe hadn't punished him enough today.
"I said no, Bogum. I'm not that kind of guy. You know that."
"I can make you gay, you know? You’ll end up loving me, my little Ta—"
"Stop. Stop calling me that."
“Well, well, look who's here…”
Taehyung didn’t even turn around. He didn’t need to. He knew that voice. That irritating chill running down his spine. That son of a bitch.
Jeon Jungkook had arrived.
And Taehyung chose to ignore him — because acknowledging him meant giving him exactly what he wanted. Even if Jungkook’s presence alone already set his nerves on fire.
"Bogum. Seriously. I don’t want you. Get that through your head and leave me alone."
Bogum opened his mouth again, but another voice cut through the air like a knife dipped in arrogance.
"So we’ve got an admirer, huh?"
Taehyung froze before forcing himself to slowly turn. Jeon freaking Jungkook.
"Shut up. And mind your own business."
"Oh? Really?" Jungkook smirked, like Taehyung’s annoyance was his favorite entertainment. "Aww, look at the little kitten trying to be scary."
"I swear to God, Jeon, close your—"
He didn’t get to finish. An arm suddenly draped over his shoulders, heavy, intrusive, warm — and Taehyung’s entire body tensed in disgust. Jungkook yanked him closer like he owned him.
"Get— off— what the hell—"
"Shhh, sweetheart," Jungkook murmured loud enough for Bogum to hear. "I know you don’t like PDA. But this guy’s been sticking to you a bit too much, hasn’t he?"
Sweetheart. Taehyung wanted to vomit. Or stab him. Preferably both. He tried to shove him away, but Jungkook’s grip only tightened — and then a sharp pinch hit his waist.
"What the fu—!"
"Wait… you two…?" Bogum blinked, confused horror spreading across his face.
"Yeah," Jungkook answered without missing a beat. "Got a problem with that, short king?"
He wasn’t even that short. Jungkook was just being an asshole on purpose — as always. Bogum stuttered, staring between them. "But you two… hate each other."
"Mm," Jungkook hummed, voice dripping smug satisfaction. "Not when we’re alone. If you know what I mean." He winked.
Bogum looked like someone had just kicked his last brain cell off a bridge. Disgust, disbelief, heartbreak — all at once — before he walked away in stunned silence. The second he was gone, Taehyung ripped himself free, shoving Jungkook’s arm off aggressively enough to hurt.
"Are you completely fucking deranged?! You psycho!"
Jungkook only smiled, hands sliding casually into his pockets like he hadn't just committed social war.
"He’ll stop bothering you now. You’re welcome, by the way."
Taehyung glared, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. "Why the hell would you get involved? Since when do you care?"
"I don’t," Jungkook replied simply. "But now you owe me." His smirk widened — smug, cruel, satisfied — like he had just placed a chain around Taehyung’s neck.
Taehyung wanted to punch him. Or scream. Or run until his lungs burst. Instead, all he managed was a shaky, hate-filled exhale.
"I’d rather owe the devil," he spat.
Jungkook’s eyes glinted. "Same difference."
Taehyung rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt and turned away. Distance. That’s all he needed. The further he was from Jungkook, the safer his blood pressure — and his sanity — would be. Jungkook was every single trait he despised in a human being wrapped into one irritatingly attractive disaster. He barely made three steps before fingers closed around his wrist and yanked him back. Of course.
"Hey. You don’t seriously think you can just walk away, kitten. You owe me, remember?"
Taehyung shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. "I don’t owe you anything. You decided to butt in, I didn’t ask for shit. So go bother someone else for once. And stop calling me that, you brain-dead moron."
Jungkook clicked his tongue, eyes glittering with amusement like Taehyung’s fury was his personal entertainment. "Unlike you, I prefer cute nicknames that get under people's skin instead of just barking insults. And no — you owe me. End of story."
"Get lost," Taehyung snapped, jaw tight enough to crack.
Then he shoved Jungkook — harder than necessary — ripping his arm from that smug grip and stormed out of the hall before he did something he’d regret. His pulse was racing. Not from fear. Not from embarrassment. From pure, boiling hatred. And Jungkook’s laughter followed him out like it owned him.
~~~
"Hey Tae, what took you so long? You're always early," Jimin asked the moment Taehyung dropped into the seat beside him.
Taehyung threw his bag down with more force than necessary. "An idiot and a delusional obsessive asshole."
Jimin snorted. "Let me guess — the asshole is Jungkook. But who's the idiot?"
"Bogum."
"Oh?" Jimin blinked. "What did he say to earn that title? He's super sweet."
"He's obsessed with me. That's what he is."
"Wait, hold on. You said the obsessive one was Jungkook."
Taehyung stared at him flatly. Jimin had that annoying teasing smirk — the one Taehyung wanted to wipe off his face with a textbook.
"And what about Bogum?"
"He wants to go out with me."
Jimin leaned back, amused. "But you're not gay… right?"
"Of course not," Taehyung snapped without hesitation. "But he doesn't care. He says he can make me gay — the idiot."
Jimin tapped his pen on the desk, biting back a laugh. "Well technically, you don’t really know until you try—"
"Jimin. Bogum?" Taehyung gave him a dead stare. "Seriously? Even if I wanted to try something, he is absolutely not my type."
Jimin's grin sharpened. "And Jungkook?"
And there it was. Again. The stupid theory Jimin refused to drop — that hatred that intense always had a spark beneath it. Physical tension. Attraction turned sour. Some ridiculous psychological nonsense.
Taehyung almost gagged.
"No," he said sharply. "God, no. Jungkook is the last person on earth I'd ever be attracted to. Even if I liked guys — which I don’t — I wouldn’t go for someone like him."
His voice came out too fast. Too defensive. He hated that. Especially because Jimin's smirk only widened like that reaction confirmed everything. Taehyung rolled his eyes and looked away, jaw tightening. Jungkook was not his type. He wasn’t anyone’s type. Just a walking migraine with abs and zero emotional regulation. And Taehyung definitely did not think about him beyond wanting him as far away as physically possible. That was all.
~~~
Jungkook walked into the classroom like he owned the air everyone was breathing. Unfortunately, Taehyung shared few classes a week with him. And of course, right behind him came his girlfriend. Equally insufferable, in Taehyung’s opinion — though today she looked less irritating and more… furious.
"Jungkook, can you explain why you lied to me last night?"
Jungkook didn’t even look surprised. Just mildly bored. "Lie about what now?"
Taehyung leaned back in his seat, silently enjoying the show. If karma existed, she had good timing.
"You told me you were just hanging out with the guys. You didn’t mention a party. With girls. I saw the stories."
"So what? It was just a party, Lee. Relax."
"Just a party where you kiss other girls?" she snapped — and then her hand flew across his cheek with a loud crack. The class went silent. Even Taehyung blinked. Jungkook’s jaw flexed as he turned his face back toward her, like the slap wasn’t pain — just an inconvenience.
"Listen, I was drunk, alright? It doesn’t change anything."
"It changes everything. We’re done." Her voice trembled — hurt and humiliation mixed — and she stormed out of the room.
She didn’t look back. The door slammed. A beat of silence followed. Jungkook exhaled through his nose, like someone had just canceled his gym session instead of dumping him after a betrayal. No guilt. No apology. No reaction at all — just annoyance.
Taehyung felt a smirk tug at his lips before he could stop it. Pathetic. That’s what Jungkook was. A disaster disguised as confidence. A pretty face hiding absolutely nothing inside.
Jimin whispered beside him, “Wow. Harsh.”
Taehyung kept his eyes forward.
"Good. One less idiot polluting the room."
Jungkook turned toward him, jaw tight, eyes dark with anger — the slap still burning faintly on his cheek. He looked like a storm looking for something to destroy, and apparently Taehyung was the nearest target.
"Kim. Roof. After class. And no, it's not a question."
Taehyung stared right back, unflinching. If Jungkook thought he could bark orders at him like everyone else bowed to him, he was delusional.
"No," Taehyung answered flatly. "And it’s not negotiable."
A muscle jumped in Jungkook’s jaw. He hated being told no. Hated not being in control. Good. Taehyung hoped it made his blood boil.
"Kim."
"Listen, you brain-rotted caveman," Taehyung hissed before he could stop himself, leaning in just enough so Jungkook heard every word, "I am not your dog. I don’t come when you whistle. So shove your 'order' somewhere deep and painful, because I'm not going."
Jungkook’s nostrils flared. For a moment, Taehyung swore he saw something dangerous flicker in his eyes — not anger, something colder. Calculated. Like he’d just been challenged and would rather tear the floor apart than lose.
Before either of them could fire another shot, the professor walked in. Chairs scraped. Books opened. Voices died instantly. Taehyung turned forward without another glance, posture perfectly calm — except for the slight tremor of adrenaline in his fingertips. He could feel Jungkook’s stare drilling into the side of his face like a blade, heavy and furious, but Taehyung didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.
If Jungkook wanted a showdown? Too bad. Taehyung wasn't playing pet to his ego. Not today. Not ever.
When class finally ended, Taehyung packed his things quickly, determined to get out before Jungkook could open his stupid entitled mouth again.
Then — thwack.
A crumpled paper ball bounced off his head. Taehyung froze. Slowly, like he already knew exactly what kind of nightmare he’d see, he lifted his gaze. And there he was. Leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes sharp.
"Kim. Roof. Now."
Taehyung snorted, disbelief and rage tangled in his chest. "Are you deaf?" he shot back. "Or do you just physically malfunction when someone tells you ‘no’? Go fuck yourself and leave me alone for once."
He stood, shoving his chair back with a harsh scrape and stormed toward the exit — shoulder checking Jungkook on the way. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t subtle. It was pure, furious defiance. Jungkook didn’t move an inch. Didn’t stumble. Didn’t break eye contact. He just watched him go — expression unreadable, jaw tight enough to crack. He pushed the door open like it insulted him, letting it slam behind him with the force of his annoyance. If Jungkook wanted him on that roof so badly, too bad. Taehyung wasn’t a toy Jungkook could snap his fingers for.
He’d rather jump off that roof than meet him there.
~~~
"What does Jungkook even want from you?" Jimin asked as they walked down the hallway toward the entrance.
Taehyung scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets."I could not care less."
Jimin laughed — he’d heard that tone a thousand times. They reached the lockers.
"Anyway," Taehyung sighed, "how are you planning to do that assignment for tomorrow? Seriously, giving us homework the day before? That should be illegal. We’ll never get it done perfectly."
"Tae… you need to stop being such a perfectionist. You’ll get the best grade anyway. Like always."
"Not if that idiot uses his dad again. The guy can’t do a single thing himself."
Of course he meant Jungkook. And of course Jungkook always got top marks — not because he earned them, but because the universe loved rewarding useless, spoiled people apparently. Taehyung worked. Taehyung studied. Taehyung fought for every mark. Jungkook got handed everything and still walked around like he was royalty.
"Then show him you don’t need anyone to be the best," Jimin said.
"Easier said than done," Taehyung muttered. "Some of us have a job. I finish late tonight. I’ll probably have to start the assignment before my shift."
They reached the main entrance.
"Alright, see you tomorrow. Good luck with the assignment."
"Mm. See you, Jimin-ah."
Taehyung turned to leave — already mentally calculating how to survive the night — when suddenly two strong hands grabbed his arms from behind. He barely had time to gasp before he was yanked backward, feet dragging against the floor.
"What the—?! Let go!"
He didn’t even need to look to know. Of course. Of fucking course. Jeon Jungkook didn’t like being told no. And Taehyung had just given him the loudest “no” of his life. Chaos had arrived to collect him.
"Jeon, seriously, let the fucking go of me!"
Taehyung struggled hard, but Jungkook didn’t even flinch. He didn’t say a word. Just dragged him down the hallway and up the stairs like Taehyung weighed nothing.
Once they reached the rooftop, Jungkook shoved him forward and slammed the door shut behind them, the click of the lock echoing like a threat.
"Finally. Took long enough."
Taehyung spun around, breath short from anger and the rough pull. "I don’t have time for you. What the hell do you want from me?"
"You owe me," Jungkook said simply. "Remember, Kitten?"
Kitten. Taehyung’s shoulders stiffened instantly. That stupid nickname felt like claws dragging down his spine, he hated it. But Jungkook seemed to love it.
"Get to the point for once, you deranged asshole."
Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. "You’re gonna have to change the way you talk to me."
"Just tell me what you want."
"You."
Taehyung blinked. For half a second, the world short-circuited. “…Excuse me?"
"Your help," Jungkook corrected, as if Taehyung was the crazy one. "As you saw, my girlfriend dumped me. I want her back."
A humorless laugh burst out of Taehyung. He couldn’t help it — it was too ridiculous.
"You’re out of your damn mind. First of all, she dumped you for a perfectly valid reason. Second, she’d be stupid to take you back. And third — if you think I’m going to help you, then you’re even more fucked in the head than I thought."
Jungkook only smirked, like Taehyung’s rage was flattering. "Relax, Kitten. It’s mutual help. It’ll keep that short idiot off your back—"
"Don’t call him that. He’s annoying, yeah, but he doesn’t deserve that shitty nickname. I’m just not interested."
"Still a stupid dwarf."
Taehyung exhaled sharply, defeated by pure idiocy. He turned toward the exit — except the door didn’t budge. Locked. Of course.
"And for the record," Jungkook added casually, "Lee and I break up and get back together all the time. She cheated on me too, you know."
Taehyung froze, staring at him. It was somehow even worse than he imagined.
"So why go back to each other if you clearly don’t respect one another?"
"Because we love each other. You always go back to the people you lo—"
"No." Taehyung cut him off immediately. His voice was sharp, final. "Cheating isn’t love. If someone cheats, they don’t love you. And if you accept it, you don’t love yourself."
Jungkook let out a laugh, like Taehyung was the one saying something ridiculous.
"So what? You’d end things after one problem?"
"If she cheats, yes. Immediately."
"And you think you’d never cheat?"
"I would never betray someone I love. That’s the difference. Anyway, I’m not helping you. I have a deadline, work in under two hours, and zero time for your emotional dumpster fire. Let me leave."
Jungkook didn’t look angry. Didn’t look disappointed. He looked… prepared. And that was worse.
"It’s too late to say no, Kitten."
Taehyung’s stomach dropped.
"What are you talking about now?"
His phone buzzed. A message from Jimin.
— What’s this I’m seeing?? You’re dating Jungkook?? I KNEW IT!!! Since when??
Taehyung’s blood turned to ice. He lifted his head slowly, rage already burning through his veins.
"What the hell did you do, you bastard."
"Maybe you should unblock me on Instagram first, Kitten."
Taehyung’s stomach dropped. Shit. No. No way. A photo? A story? What the hell did Jungkook do? His fingers shook slightly as he unlocked his phone, unblocked Jungkook, and opened his profile.
One story. One post. The story was just a reshare. But the post—A photo.
A photo of them.
They weren't taking it — someone else had. Jungkook’s arm around his shoulders that morning, Taehyung trying to pull away. It looked… intimate from the outside. Like a couple caught in a candid moment. That bastard had planned this. Someone must’ve taken it for him. One of his little minions. It wasn’t an impulsive act. It was calculated.
"You planned this?" Taehyung breathed, voice cracking under the fury. "You actually— You knew she would dump you. You— you planned every single fucking thing?"
Jungkook sat down on the rooftop bench, stretching his legs out, letting the sunlight hit his face like this was some relaxing afternoon lounge.
"So what? Now everyone knows. Lee, and that idiot too."
"Lee won’t be jealous of me, you moron." Taehyung snapped. His breath shook. "She’ll probably be relieved. Maybe she’ll finally stop crawling back once she sees you supposedly love a guy. And why me? Out of everyone here, why the hell me? No one will believe it. Everyone knows we hate each other."
"Exactly," Jungkook replied, tone maddeningly calm. "You hate me. So I don’t have to worry about you trying to kiss me or catch feelings. Every girl here worships me. Every guy wants a chance. With you, it won't get messy."
Taehyung froze mid-breath. Wow. Arrogant. Cruel. And somehow… confident he was right. He hated how it stung. Not because Jungkook was wrong — but because Jungkook thought that. Thought Taehyung couldn’t possibly feel anything other than disgust around him. Of course he was right, but still—
"I would rather jump off this roof than pretend to date you. Even fake dating you feels like a disease. Pick someone else."
"I can pay you," Jungkook said casually, like he was proposing coffee.
Something snapped. Taehyung grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up, face inches from his.
"I don’t want your dirty money. Ever. And I don’t need it."
Jungkook’s lips curved into the most irritating smirk Taehyung had ever seen. He leaned in slightly — not in a flirting way, but like he was reminding Taehyung who held the strings now.
"Don’t get so close, Kitten. No one’s watching. No reason to act affectionate."
Taehyung shoved him back. Jungkook fell onto the bench again with a dull thud. Taehyung’s pulse hammered in his ears. Not embarrassment — humiliation. Fury. A cornered animal feeling. Part of him knew Bogum was going to keep bothering him. Part of him hated that Jungkook had a point. But the rest of him screamed absolutely not.
"I am not doing this," he hissed. "I don’t care what sick little plan you have going on in your rotten brain. I won’t play pretend with you. Delete that stupid picture and let me leave. Now."
He didn’t blink. This was the hill he would die on. He refused to be part of Jungkook’s pathetic heartbreak circus. Fake dating Jeon Jungkook? He’d rather eat glass.
Jungkook stood and stepped closer, shadow cutting into Taehyung’s space like gravity itself.
"There’s something you still haven’t understood, Kitten. Whether you agree or not, we’re dating now."
"I’d rather die."
"Go ahead then," Jungkook said, voice flat. "Jump."
Taehyung’s expression cracked — just a second, shock flashing through his eyes before anger swallowed it whole. He searched Jungkook’s face, trying to find the line — the moment where this turned into a joke. It didn’t. Jungkook wasn’t joking.
"Jeon, let me go. Stop with the bullshit."
"Accept, and you walk out that door. Refuse, and there’s your exit." A tilt of the head, chin toward the ledge. Cold. Detached. Infuriating.
"You dragged me up here for an ultimatum?"
"Think whatever you want, Kim."
Taehyung scoffed. Rage clung to his ribs like fire. He had underestimated Jungkook — deeply. But Jungkook had underestimated him too. He stepped past him, shoulder slamming into Jungkook’s as he moved. Then he climbed over the low rooftop barrier in one sharp motion. Concrete under his shoes. Wind lifting his hair.
His pulse thundered, not in fear, but in defiance so fierce it burned.
"Kitten," Jungkook said slowly, voice suddenly lower, taut like a stretched wire. "We both know you won’t jump."
"You don’t know me," Taehyung spat, eyes locked forward, knuckles white on the ledge. "At all."
There was no waver. No trembling lip. Just sharp breath, fire in his chest, and the wild need to prove Jungkook wrong or burn trying.
The rooftop suddenly felt too silent. Too real. A long second passed. Two. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Taehyung lifted one foot, slowly, deliberately, letting it hover over the edge. He wasn’t going to jump — he wasn’t that reckless. But Jungkook didn’t know that. And Taehyung wanted him to wonder. Wanted him to feel even a fraction of the power he always tried to steal.
For a split second, time fractured. He looked back at Jungkook — just in time to catch it.
The flicker.
That tiny, raw moment where Jungkook’s expression cracked — something sharp and panicked flashing in his eyes before he masked it again. Fear. Not loud. Not obvious. But real. Taehyung’s chest tightened with something vicious and triumphant.
Got you.
Jungkook exhaled hard, jaw clenched. Then he turned away abruptly, like staying even one more second was dangerous — for him, not for Taehyung.
No words. No smug comeback. Just footsteps leaving, the rooftop door swinging shut behind him with a final thud. Silence settled. Taehyung stepped back from the ledge, boots touching solid ground again. His heartbeat slowed, the adrenaline fading into a cold burn of satisfaction.
A small smile tugged at his lips — smug, victorious, and exhausted all at once. He’d won. Today, at least. Or so he thought. He gathered his bag, steadied his breath, and walked toward the stairs without looking back. He didn’t know it yet, but the real war hadn’t even started. Tomorrow would prove that.
And Jeon Jungkook? He wasn’t the type to walk away without taking something back.
~~~
The next day, Taehyung felt dead on his feet. That stupid assignment had eaten his night, and his shift at the bar had drained whatever life remained in his body. He had seen Jungkook there — because of course fate hated him — but Jungkook hadn’t spoken to him. Not a word. Not even one of those infuriating stares.
Just… nothing.
And somehow, that silence felt worse. Too quiet. Too intentional.
After his third class — the last before lunch — Taehyung leaned against his locker, head tipped back, waiting for Jimin. God, Jimin could be slow sometimes. He just wanted food. And sleep. And a world without Jungkook in it.
“Are you Kim Taehyung?”
Taehyung straightened, turning toward the unfamiliar voice.
“That depends. Who’s asking…?”
The guy looked nervous. Unfamiliar face. Average height. Eyes darting.
“Jimin,” he said. “He told me to come find you. Said to meet him out back in the courtyard.”
Taehyung frowned. “Why?”
“He has a problem, apparently.”
A problem? And he didn’t call? That already didn’t make sense. “…Weird. Jimin has my number. If something was wrong, he’d call.”
“Please,” the stranger insisted. “Come with me. He’s waiting.”
Taehyung’s stomach tightened. Something was off. Jimin never sent random people to fetch him. Jimin didn’t ask strangers for help. And Jimin definitely didn’t hide when he needed Taehyung.
This felt wrong. Like a trap. But a trap for what? He sighed through his nose, skepticism sharp in his voice. “…Fine. Lead the way.”
He followed — but every nerve in his body stayed alert, exhaustion overridden by a creeping dread. If Jungkook wanted a war, maybe this was his first move. And Taehyung was walking straight into it.
He followed him into the back courtyard. The first thing he felt was a hard hit to the head — he went down to the concrete.
“What the hell?” he croaked.
When he lifted his head, three guys were standing over him. No Jungkook. “Who are you? What do you want?” Taehyung demanded, pushing himself up on shaky arms.
“So—you’re dating the king of the university? Congrats,” one sneered.
That fucking rumor Jungkook had started echoed in his head like a curse. “I’m not dating—” he began, but a massive slap cut him off.
“Jungkook had the nerve to post you on his Instagram. You’re together, obviously. Stop lying. And if you don’t stop this, you’ll pay for it, you filthy—”
“Take him, I beg you. I give him to you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m hungry,” But Taehyung didn’t see it coming: a brutal kick to the stomach sent him crashing back to the ground. He screamed in pain.
If Jungkook was behind this, he would pay. The three guys left him there. After a long, shaky minute he forced himself up. He went to the nearest pharmacy to patch himself up as best he could. Fortunately, none of the bruises showed from the outside.
~~~
The afternoon dragged on, and Taehyung kept his mouth shut. Why say anything? It wasn’t like complaining would undo the bruises or rewind the morning. Besides — what would he even say?
Hey Jimin, some idiots beat me up because Jungkook decided to ruin my life.
Right. That sounded pathetic even in his head.
And as if the universe wasn’t already laughing, his last class of the day was boxing. Boxing. Perfect. Exactly what someone with a bruised, throbbing stomach needed.
He had chosen this elective. And right now, he regretted every life decision that led him here. Worse? Jungkook was in this class too. And this time Jungkook kept staring. Cold, superior, disgust dripping from his gaze. Taehyung ignored it — or tried to. The room spun slightly every time he moved too fast, but he wasn’t going to give Jungkook the satisfaction of seeing weakness.
"Alright, today I'm picking the pairs," the instructor announced.
Fantastic. Just fantastic. Then he heard the names. “Kim Taehyung… Jeon Jungkook.”
Of course.
Someone immediately protested, loud enough for everyone to hear: “But professor, they’re dating — you can’t make them fight each other!”
Taehyung shot daggers at the idiot who spoke. He waited for Jungkook to correct him — to say anything. Silence. Jungkook didn’t deny it. Didn’t flinch. He looked satisfied. Like the rumor was candy on his tongue. Taehyung’s stomach twisted — half from pain, half from rage.
“…Kitten. How are we feeling today?” Jungkook murmured when they got closer.
“I was fine until now.”
They laced gloves. Warm up began. No talking. Just punches, footwork, and the rhythm of resentment.
Taehyung focused on breathing through the pain. Jungkook? He focused on winning. On dominating. Like always. Then Jungkook’s glove tapped Taehyung’s stomach. Not even hard. Just contact. Agony exploded up his spine, white-hot and suffocating. Taehyung’s knees buckled. He crashed to the mat, clutching his midsection, a broken groan ripping from him before he could swallow it.
“Wow. What happened? Kitty lost his claws?” Jungkook laughed.
But Taehyung didn’t laugh. Couldn’t. He tasted iron. His vision blurred.
“Kim? Stop. I didn’t hit you that hard,” Jungkook snapped, irritation creeping into his voice.
Taehyung lifted his head — and to his horror, his eyes were wet. His body betrayed him. Tears pricked and escaped despite every ounce of pride screaming not to. It hurt. It hurt so much.
Jungkook's expression faltered just a fraction before he masked it. He crouched down.
“Cut the act. That won’t work on—”
“What’s going on?” the professor rushed over, kneeling.
“He collapsed after a tiny hit to the stomach,” Jungkook said, voice flat — but not confident like earlier. Something underneath wavered.
Taehyung barely registered the words — just hands on him, lifting his shirt, air hitting tender skin. A bruise. Not small. Not subtle. Deep, ugly, spreading purple across his torso like spilled ink.
“Jeon — did you do this?” the professor demanded sharply.
Jungkook leaned over, expecting nothing. And then froze. His eyes widened — a flicker of shock, maybe even alarm. “I didn’t do that,” he muttered. “Not with a hit like that.”
Taehyung didn’t hear anything else. His vision tunneled. Pain swallowed everything. Darkness spilled over. And he passed out.
~~~
He woke up in the infirmary. It took him a long moment to fully come to — the pain was loud and stubborn, every breath a reminder of the blows. He blinked slowly, trying to piece the world back together.
Then he felt a presence.
"Finally awake, Kitten."
Taehyung turned his head toward the voice, then looked away. Jungkook had started to get under his skin by the day. "Get out, you asshole. I don’t want to see you."
"Easy now, Kitten. I didn’t do anything this time."
"You call this nothing?" Taehyung snapped, jerking his chin toward his stomach.
Jungkook’s face hardened, the teasing gone. His voice was flat. "Stop — I barely touched you—"
"I’m not talking about earlier. I mean at midday."
"What are you talking about? I didn’t even eat here. I went home to my apartment."
"You might not have been here, but you sent them."
"Kim. What are you fucking talking about?" Jungkook’s tone shifted; irritation sharpened into something like alarm.
"Those three guys. You sent them to beat me up. Your petty revenge for yesterday, right?"
Jungkook stepped closer, his gaze cold as winter. "I didn’t do that. I didn’t touch you, Kim. And if I want something done, I do it myself. I don’t send others to handle disgusting work. So now tell me who it was."
Taehyung watched him a moment. Jungkook wasn’t the kind to hide this sort of thing — if he’d ordered it, he’d brag. He’d be loud about it. "I don’t know," Taehyung said. "I don’t know everyone on campus. But they didn’t like the rumor you started about our so-called couple."
Jungkook snorted, almost reflexively. "They’ll get used to it. And if it happens again, they’ll learn you don’t touch what belongs to me. Even if it’s fake. If we play a fake couple, I have to defend you. Otherwise it wouldn’t be believable. That’s exactly what I’ll do."
Before Taehyung could react, Jungkook grabbed his phone. He snapped a photo of Taehyung right there on the infirmary bed and posted it to his story with a caption: If anyone touches him again, I’ll get revenge. Don’t touch my boyfriend without consequences.
Of course he tagged Taehyung — and Taehyung got the notification in real time.
"You’re completely insane," Taehyung muttered.
"Everyone already believes our relationship, Kim. Everyone except you. So get this into your head. We’re dating. Period."
"We're not."
Jungkook left the infirmary with heavy steps. Taehyung stayed lying there, staring at the ceiling, turning over plans in his head. How to escape this mess. How to fix what had been broken. How to get out of the web Jungkook had woven without being trapped in it forever.
~~~
Three days later, nothing had changed. Jungkook kept posting his Instagram stories and Taehyung avoided him like the plague. Nobody had dared touch him since — apparently Jungkook’s threats worked. At least, he had some peace.
His stomach was healing slowly, but it still hurt like hell. He hadn’t told anyone what happened, but since Jungkook had made a story about it, of course Jimin had found out. And, of course… Jimin hadn’t taken it well.
Today, Jimin was still giving him the cold shoulder despite Taehyung’s attempts to talk to him.
“Jimin-ah, do you want to eat somewhere else for lunch?”
Jimin didn’t answer; he just kept walking. “Come on, Jimin, stop it — you’re not seriously going to sulk because I got punched, are you?”
Jimin stopped and turned to him. “I’m not mad at you for that, you idiot. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did I have to learn it from that asshole’s story?”
“Asshole?” Taehyung smiled — Jimin had never called Jungkook that before.
“He’s an asshole, yes. But that doesn’t change anything. I still think you two are attracted to each other like magnets. Opposites attract, Tae.”
“Let’s drop the metaphors. Are you mad at me?”
“Tell me what’s going on with Jungkook and I’ll cross those bridges.”
Taehyung sighed. Jimin deserved to know. “He offered me a stupid deal that I refused. But he made it official without my consent, and now everyone believes we’re dating.”
“And… the original deal?”
“I was supposed to fake-date him until his girlfriend came back. But I refused.”
“Mm. But you’ll end up accepting.”
“No—”
“Tae. I know you. You’ll accept before you even notice, probably. But you’ll do it.”
~~~
The end of the day came. Taehyung was still simmering from his conversation with Jimin — he hadn’t liked that little jab at all.
As he passed by his locker, he caught sight of a familiar face in the distance: an old acquaintance, talking with one of the campus administrators. Taehyung froze. Not him. Not Seojun. Anything but Seojun.
This guy had been obsessed with Taehyung — not in a flattering way. He didn’t stop until he got what he wanted. Taehyung had escaped him by moving away; it hadn’t been planned for that purpose, but it had saved him. If he’d stayed, Seojun would have probably raped him — that was the truth Taehyung couldn’t say out loud. Seojun was vile, disgusting.
Panic crawled up his spine when Seojun glanced in his direction. Taehyung turned immediately — and saw Jungkook by his locker, standing there. He felt Seojun’s stare like heat on his back. He didn’t think. He moved, too fast, toward Jungkook and grabbed his hand.
“Jungkook-ah, I missed you today — want to go home together? Please?” Taehyung said, loud enough for Seojun to hear. He didn’t want to beg, but right now he had to sell the lie.
Jungkook whipped around and tried to pull his hand away, but Taehyung squeezed harder. “Please,” Taehyung repeated. He wasn’t proud, but he needed Seojun to believe it.
Jungkook frowned and stepped closer. “You’ve got a minute to explain, Kitten, or I’m leaving,” he whispered.
Taehyung exhaled and blurted it out. “That guy behind me… he was at my high school and—”
“Tick tock, Kim. Spare me the details.”
“He’s obsessed with me. Not in a good way. He’s horrible. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants. And he wants me.”
“You’ve got a talent for attracting guys, huh.” Jungkook glanced back like nothing was wrong. “In any case, he’s watching us.”
Taehyung tightened his grip. “Jeon, please help me, for once.”
“Then accept our deal.”
Taehyung thought — and not for long. Jungkook’s next sentence chilled him again.
“He’s coming closer,” Jungkook warned.
“Okay. But there will be rules,” Taehyung said at last.
“We’ll talk tomorrow, on the roof. Unless you want to wait for this guy to catch up—”
“Fine. The roof.”
Jungkook slung his arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “Wow Kitten… you must be scared if you’ll go up on the roof without flinching—”
“You don’t know him like I do,” Taehyung cut in.
“Ignore him and just give a shy little smile.”
“What?”
“You can play the part when you want, so do it.”
Jungkook steered Taehyung along, holding him, and without another word they headed for the exit.
They passed Seojun. Jungkook spoke up. “You're so damn cute today Kitten” Jungkook said as he moved closer. Taehyung forced the awkward smile they’d agreed on. He managed not to look at Seojun, but he felt the man's gaze burn into him.
They kept walking and finally reached the university housing area. “I think this is good,” Jungkook said, loosening his grip and letting go.
Taehyung felt immediate relief — then, out of habit, he turned to check if Seojun had followed them.
Jungkook seemed to notice. “Relax, Kitten. He didn’t follow us.”
“Why is he even here… that’s the question,” Taehyung muttered.
“Look, I don’t have time — I’m in a hurry tonight, so see you on the roof tomorrow. Be on time. Or this guy will find out our little lie,” Jungkook said, already moving away, giving Taehyung a wink as he left.
Taehyung watched him go, chest tight. He stayed standing there, thinking about rules, about roofs, and about the thing in his past that had just shown its teeth again.
~~~
The next morning, Taehyung didn’t waste a second. He went straight to the roof. He needed time. He needed to breathe. And most importantly — he could not be late. He sat on the bench, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles ached.
Thirty minutes passed before Jungkook finally showed up. He stopped mid-step when he saw Taehyung already there — surprise flickering across his face.
He let out a little laugh. “You really need to explain who that guy is. I never thought I’d see you here before me.”
Taehyung didn’t look at him — his voice came out flat and cold. “He wants me for his personal collection. He’s a rapist, a liar, a stalker, and a brute. He’ll convince you he loves you just to use you, hurt you, and break you after.”
Jungkook’s face shifted — just for a second. A fracture in that confident mask.
“What did he do to you, Kim?”
“Nothing. But to my best friend back then. And a girl we knew too. I defended them — and since then he’s obsessed with me. He wants me. And he won’t stop until he gets me.”
“Charming,” Jungkook muttered, sitting beside him.
Taehyung immediately stood. “Save the sarcasm, Jeon. I don’t need it today.”
“Then say it. Say what you want, Kitten.”
Taehyung exhaled shakily. “Fine. I accept. But only under certain conditions.”
Jungkook smirked softly. “I’m listening, darling.”
Taehyung paced restlessly, breathing hard through his nose before speaking. “We only play the part when people are around. And only here, on campus.”
Jungkook nodded.
“And another thing.” Taehyung cut him off sharply. “No touching without reason. No wandering hands. No kissing. I forbid it. And this ends the moment you get your ex back.”
Jungkook clicked his tongue. “And how are people supposed to believe we’re dating if I can’t touch you?”
“Hand-holding. Arm around the shoulder.” Taehyung’s voice trembled — not from fear of Jungkook, but from the memory of Seojun’s eyes. “That is enough.”
Jungkook tilted his head, studying him. “Then you’ll have to stop insulting me in public, Kitten. And you’ll need to be a little more… docile. If we’re supposed to be in love, you need to learn to smile when I’m around.”
Taehyung stared at him — bitterness sharp enough to cut in his throat. Smile? With Jungkook near him? He would rather swallow glass.
“I’ll adapt,” Taehyung muttered. “But don’t push it.”
“It’s a deal that benefits both of us, Kim. Don’t forget that.”
“What are you implying, idiot?”
Jungkook’s lips curved at the insult — because of course he liked being hated more than being ignored.
“I’m saying,” Jungkook drawled, “that if you need my help with that guy, or anything else— I’ll give it. I might be an asshole, like you said. But I always keep my word. You help me, I help you.”
Taehyung just stared at him. This deal was going to be hell. Putting up with Jungkook was going to be hell.
But between Jungkook and Seojun… He’d choose Jungkook. Every time.
Jungkook began walking away, but paused and turned back. “Why accept this, when you hate me so much? You’re terrified of him, but I’m not exactly sunshine to you either.”
Taehyung swallowed hard, voice steady. “I’m choosing the lesser evil. That’s all.”
Jungkook let out a breath — not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. Something in between. A tiny smirk tugged at his lips. Then he walked off, the rooftop door closing behind him. And Taehyung was left with nothing but the wind, the rising sun, and the crushing realization:
He’d just chained himself to a devil to escape a monster.