TAEHYUNG'S POV

The bathroom was silent, save for the steady hiss of a running tap. The kind of silence that amplifies every breath, every footstep, every thought.

I closed the door behind me, the soft click echoing like a lock on a cage. My eyes scanned the row of stalls. Only one was occupied—the faint glow of a phone screen spilling through the bottom crack, the muted sound of her murmuring to herself.

I walked slowly, each step deliberate, my anger simmering like a slow boil. When I reached the stall, my hand wrapped around the cool metal handle. I twisted it gently, careful not to make a sound, until the latch gave way with a soft click.

A humorless chuckle slipped out of me. Who comes into a washroom and doesn't lock the door? Weird.

The door creaked open, and there she was.

Sitting on the closed toilet lid, head bent over her phone, completely unaware. Her posture relaxed, one leg bouncing absently to whatever she was reading. She looked... small. Almost peaceful.

And for a flicker of a second, something in me stalled.
But then the sting of her words from earlier—the shove, the middle finger, the way she made me feel invisible in front of half the school—came rushing back, reigniting the fire in my veins.

She hadn't even noticed me yet. Murmuring under her breath, thumbs scrolling, completely lost in her own world.

I stepped into the stall, shutting the door behind me with a deliberate thunk.

Her head jerked up.

Wide eyes. Sharp inhale. The phone slipped slightly in her grip as she froze, staring at me like I'd just materialized from thin air.

I let a slow, deliberate smirk stretch across my face. Leaned one hand casually against the stall wall, blocking her exit without even touching her.

"Surprise, princess," I drawled, my voice a silky thread laced with mockery. "Miss me?"

Her expression shifted fast—from shock to anger to something that almost looked like disbelief.

For a beat, silence hung between us. 

Her jaw tightened, but she didn't back up, didn't flinch.
Of course she didn't.

"Are you insane?" she hissed, finally finding her voice. "This is the girls' bathroom, you lunatic."

I leaned a shoulder casually against the wall of the stall, my smirk refusing to budge.
"Relax. I'm not here to... peek. I'm here because you and I need to have a little chat. You've been... disruptive."

She shot me a look that could've curdled milk. "Disruptive? Oh, I'm so sorry for not bowing down and kissing your fake iPhone yesterday. Want me to write an apology letter too?"

My smirk twitched. "Careful, sweetheart. That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble."

Her eyes narrowed, her voice a cutting whisper. "And barging into a bathroom stall doesn't?"

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension was heavy, not just from the anger sparking between us, but from the sheer audacity of it all. Two people who refused to blink first, standing in a space far too small for our egos.

I took a step closer, just enough to make the air shift between us.
"You think you can just waltz into my life, scratch my phone, humiliate me in front of everyone, and walk away like it's nothing?"

She tilted her head, completely unbothered. "Yeah. Pretty much."

For a second, I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or break something.
Instead, I exhaled slowly, leaning down just enough to meet her gaze level.

"You know what your problem is?" I said, stepping closer. "You walk around like nothing touches you. Like you're above it all. But you're not. You're just pretending not to care because you're scared to matter."

She blinked—just once.
Then she scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. "And you? You walk around like everyone owes you something. Like you're some kind of god walking among peasants. But guess what? You're just a bored little boy with a fragile ego and a fake iPhone."

The jab hit. I felt my jaw tick.

I stared at her. No witty retort came.
And that pissed me off even more.

She shook her head, exhaling sharply. "Look, I don't care what your damage is, Taehyung. But whatever game you think you're playing, find a new opponent. Because I'm not scared of you. And I sure as hell don't want anything from you."

Just hen, the bathroom door slammed open like a gunshot.

Loud. Sudden. Terrifying.

A swarm of high-pitched voices followed—howling, giggling, echoing off the walls like a chorus of death bells.

Girls. A group of them.

Shit.

I froze, spine locked up like I'd been hit with a taser. My breath caught mid-sentence, the sound lodged in my throat.

Footsteps padded closer. Water running. Lip gloss smacking. Phones clicking.

Panic flooded my brain like a bad signal—distorted, glitching. If they saw me in here, I wasn't just done. I was cancelled. Socially executed.

Worse. They'd run straight to a teacher. Principal. Hell, maybe call the police.

I looked at YN.
And what did I see?

Smug. Smiling.
Like the villain finally got the hero tied to the train tracks.

"Whoa, boy," she whispered, voice dripping with malicious glee. "Got yourself in trouble?"

I shot her a glare, heat rising in my chest—not from fear, obviously, but from pure, unfiltered frustration.

"Shut up," I hissed, though my voice betrayed the flicker of panic clawing its way up my throat.

Her eyebrows shot up, mock innocence all over her face. "Shut up? Oh, hell no. I think I might scream. Real loud. You know, 'there's a boy in the bathroom!' Let's see how fast you can explain this to a teacher."

My jaw tightened, pulse spiking.
She was bluffing. She had to be bluffing.

Right?

"Keep your voice down!" I snapped. My chest was tight. This was spiraling—fast.

Her smirk widened, eyes glittering with that same reckless defiance that drove me crazy. "Stop me if you can."

The sound of footsteps grew louder outside the stall, the gaggle of girls still laughing and chatting as they fixed their makeup in the mirrors. Any second, someone could notice a second pair of shoes under the stall. Any second, I'd go from untouchable to headline-worthy scandal.

And all I could think, as my jaw clenched and I stared her down, was how badly I wanted to wipe that smug look off her face.

Somehow.
Before she burned my entire reputation to the ground.

YN's POV

Oh, this was delicious.

Kim Taehyung—Mr. Untouchable—standing in a girls' bathroom stall, looking like he'd just realized his entire kingdom could come crumbling down if a single high-pitched scream slipped past my lips.

The irony was so rich I could practically taste it.

Outside, the gaggle of girls kept chattering, their voices echoing closer, a couple of them laughing about some boy who texted them. If any of them noticed him in here? The school would combust.

I tilted my head, keeping my voice low, my smirk sharp. "So... what's the plan now, Your Highness? Gonna explain to the entire hallway why you're camping in the girls' room? Or should I... help you out?"

His jaw flexed, his glare scorching holes into me. "You wouldn't dare," he muttered, though there was something frayed in the edges of his voice.

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I absolutely would. I mean, think about it—what's funnier than watching the great Kim Taehyung get dragged out of a bathroom by a teacher? The rumor mill would eat this up. You'd be a legend... just not the kind you like."

The vein in his jaw ticked. He looked like he was weighing murder against self-preservation. Self-preservation won. Barely.

"Fine," he ground out, his voice low, almost a growl. "What do you want?"

I pretended to think, tapping my chin with exaggerated care. "Hmm. An apology would be a good start. Maybe throw in a little begging, just to make it authentic. Oh, and try not to choke on your pride while you do it."

His eyes narrowed. He looked like swallowing his own tongue might actually be less painful than doing what I just asked.

But the voices outside the stall were growing louder, closer. Someone giggled, right near our door.

And then—he did it.

Through gritted teeth, each word sounding like it was being dragged out of him with pliers.

"Fine. Please... don't scream."

I leaned back, savoring it. The way his pride cracked just enough to let the plea through. The way his tone dripped with reluctant defeat.

"Wow," I whispered, my smirk turning razor-sharp. "Didn't know Kim Taehyung even knew the word 'please.' Historic moment. Should I frame it?"

He glared daggers at me, but he stayed quiet. Because he knew he had no other choice.

And God, did it feel good to watch him squirm.

Taehyung's POV

I thought saying please would be the end of it.
Apparently, I underestimated just how much she enjoys watching me bleed pride all over the floor.

She crossed her arms, tilting her head with that infuriating little smirk. "Hmm... no, that didn't sound convincing enough. Try again. Maybe this time, put a little feeling into it. I wanna believe you."

I clenched my jaw so hard it could've cracked teeth. My fists curled at my sides. Every molecule in me screamed to just walk out, consequences be damned.

But the laughter outside the stall grew louder—one of the girls' shadows passed across the floor. If they saw two pairs of feet under here, I was finished.

I inhaled through my nose, forcing the words out like I was spitting glass.
"Please. Don't. Scream. I'm begging you. Don't scream, for the love of God."
Each syllable slow. Deadly. Like I could strangle the sentence itself.

She hummed, as if tasting my humiliation like a fine wine. "Better. I'll allow it."

Then, like she was commanding me, she flicked her chin toward the toilet.

"Now, up. On the seat. Both feet. Unless you want your loyal fangirls out there to see the great Kim Taehyung cowering in a bathroom stall."

I stared at her, heat burning in my chest—not attraction, not quite anger, just a violent mix of both. "You've got to be kidding me."

Her voice was a whisper, sharp as a knife. "Do it. Or I scream."

God.

If there's a hell, it looks like this—crouched in a girls' bathroom stall, being ordered around by the only girl in school who doesn't melt when I breathe near her.

With a muttered curse, I stepped up onto the toilet, bracing my back against the cold wall, sitting atop the flusher. The porcelain groaned under my weight. My reflection in the stall's metal divider looked every bit as ridiculous as I felt.

"Happy now?" I hissed under my breath.

She just huffed, sliding her phone back into her pocket like she'd won something, and muttered, "Ecstatic."

And what happened soon after, I wasn't prepared for it.

One second, I was crouched like an idiot on a toilet, trying not to breathe too loud. The next, she slid down between my legs like it was the most natural thing in the world, her back pressing against my chest.

And just like that, the breath got knocked out of me.

Heat crept up my neck, into my cheeks. Great. Kim Taehyung—the guy who can kiss a girl senseless in a hallway without blinking, is now red-faced because one sarcastic menace decided to use me as a human chair.

Her scent, warm, faintly floral—hit me first. Then the feel of her shoulder blades against my chest, the way her hair brushed my jaw when she shifted. Embarrassing? Absolutely. Exhilarating? ...Unfortunately, yes.

"Shh... breathe slow, you idiot," she whispered, her voice like I was some panicked rookie instead of the guy everyone else melts for.

I just nodded, jaw tight, forcing my breaths shallow and slow. My heart was a traitor, hammering like it had no concept of dignity.

Then came the knock.
A sharp rap on the stall door.

"Occupied?" a girl's voice called, sweet and suspicious.

A small, pitiful noise escaped me—half-gasp, half internal scream.

"Y-Yeah," YN called out easily, like she didn't have a human furnace of panic pinned behind her.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked. "You've been in there for, like, a while."

YN didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, just... girl things."
That seemed to work. The girl mumbled something, her footsteps retreating.

And for some reason, the fact that she covered for me—protected me, even—sent a weird pang through my chest. Something I didn't like identifying.

I shifted slightly, my legs cramping, when—pinch.

Her fingers dug into my thigh, sharp and merciless.
A hiss slipped out before I could stop it, low and rough.

She shot me another glare over her shoulder, her expression basically saying, shut up or I'll make this worse for you.

I gritted my teeth, gripping the cold edge of the toilet seat until my knuckles whitened. She was enjoying this. I knew it.

This girl. Was the devil. In plaid.

And yet—
I couldn't ignore the ridiculous, undeniable thrill burning under all of it.
The tension. The closeness. The fact that she was the only girl who's ever looked at me like she didn't want anything from me.

The girls outside finally filtered out, and the space went quiet again.

 She let out a long sigh—then leaned back, her head thudding lightly against my chest.

My heart skipped. Literally jumped out.

The weight of her head, the brush of her hair, the way her body relaxed against mine for just a second—it short-circuited my brain. I inhaled sharply, catching her scent again, trying and failing to will my heartbeat into something normal.

"Damn you," she murmured finally, almost too soft to catch. "Would've ended bad for both of us today."

And then, just like that, she stood, brushing off her skirt as if nothing had happened.

I winced as I uncurled from my awkward perch, my back cracking like an old man's. My legs were stiff, my pride worse.

She glanced at me, smirk still faintly tugging at her lips.
I just scowled, rolling my shoulders and trying to shake off both the stiffness and... whatever that was.

She glanced over her shoulder at me, barely able to stifle the laugh that threatened to slip out.
"So, how're you feeling?"

I rolled my eyes, shifting my weight with a groan. "Stiff and sore. These damn toilets aren't exactly built for comfortable lounging, you know."

She arched a brow. "Who lounges in bathroom stalls anyway?"

I shot her a look, straightening up despite the ache in my legs. "I don't know, you tell me. You're the one who decided to park yourself between my legs like it was a damn beanbag chair, princess."

That earned me a cold stare. Unbothered. Almost amused. "Right. Now, will you actually leave the girls' bathroom? Or is this your new home?"

I exhaled sharply through my nose, scowling. She had this way of poking at me, never raising her voice, never looking impressed—that crawled under my skin more than actual yelling ever could.
"Believe me," I muttered, brushing past her, "I have no desire to stay in this godforsaken place any longer than necessary."

But before I could step out of the stall, her hand shot out, gripping mine. She yanked me back—not hard, but enough to make me stumble a half-step closer.

I blinked, startled, a sharp breath catching in my throat.
"What the—"

Her gaze locked on mine, steady and unflinching. "Listen closely, Taehyung," she said, her voice low, almost calm, but edged like a blade. "Mind your business from now on. Because if you don't? Next time, I won't save your ass. Got it?"

The boldness caught me off guard. It sure did.

For a split second, I felt the heat crawl up the back of my neck. I tried to mask it, straightening my shoulders, forcing my face into its usual smirk. But it felt... thinner than usual.

Before I could get a word in, she smirked, spun on her heel, and walked out of the stall like she just hadn't tramped on the last bit of my leftover dignity—pausing only to flash me a very deliberate middle finger over her shoulder.

Real classy.

I stood there for a second, blinking, alone in a cramped bathroom stall that still smelled vaguely like her scent and humiliation.

What. The. Hell. Just. Happened.

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WORD COUNT: 2629 Words
PUBLISHED ON: Sep 08, 2024

LATEST EDITED VERSION as on 26th July, 2025

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