TAEHYUNG'S POV

I hated to admit it, but somehow, in the middle of equations, scoldings, and my patience nearly snapping in half, tutoring YN had become the highlight of my day I... actually looked forward to. If anyone told me a month ago that the highlight of my day would be sitting across from YN while she tried not to murder me with her eyes, I would've laughed in their face. Hell, I would've bet money on the opposite. But here I was, living proof that irony loves to mess with me. 

Tutoring sessions with her had become... addictive. Not because math suddenly became thrilling—God no—but because of her. Her sharp tongue, her unscathing, not-giving-in attitude. She never let me win, not even once, not even over the smallest thing. It was infuriating, humiliating—kind of thrilling. Every glare, every eye roll, every muttered insult should've made me back off. Instead, they just made me want more.

And then there were those rare, fragile accidents. Like the time I dropped the lamest, most pitiful joke ever - something about integrals and "being whole." It was so bad, I wanted to crawl into the floor. She just stared at me, deadpan, until the silence itself became funny. Then she snorted. Actually snorted. And the sound spiraled into this laugh she tried to smother with her hand, but couldn't.

The kind that split her straight, beautiful face into something radiant. A grin, unguarded and unfairly addictive. I swear, that sound rewired something in me. For days after, all I wanted was to hear it again. To see that smile again.

And I wanted to ask her. To straight up say, "Smile more, YN. You look like sunlight when you do." But I never did. Because I wasn't suicidal yet. Still, some part of me felt like the whole day was wasted if I didn't at least get one of those moments out of her.

God, I was pathetic. Wanting more of her. Not in some sleazy, perverted way—no. Just... wanting the small things. The curve of her lips when she smirked, the way she chewed the inside of her cheek when she was deep in thought, the little sigh she made before finally, begrudgingly, admitting I was right about a problem. The kind of intimacy that wasn't physical, but somehow more dangerous.

I was still caught up in those thoughts, replaying her half-smile like an addict desperate for a fix, when the sharp sound of my name yanked me back to reality.

"Taehyung! Get in the circle!"

My teammates were already gathered in the middle of the locker room, arms slung over shoulders, voices rising as one. The semi-final was here. The Red Bulls, Seoul School of Arts' golden boys, stood between us and the finals.

The room thrummed with energy, we could hear our fans screaming from the bleachers, the banners of our school flaring against the polished wood floor. The Red Bulls weren't just any opponents—they were brutal, disciplined, and arrogant. And we had clawed our way up to face them.

I jogged over, slipping into the circle as their chants rattled in my chest. Adrenaline thudded through my veins, my palms twitching to get back on the ball. My teammates hooted, clapped each other on the backs, their voices echoing like a war cry. We weren't here to participate—we were here to win. And I knew with a sharp certainty that losing wasn't an option.

Not this time. Not when there was something else riding on this game, for me.

I wanted the finals. No, I needed them. Because if—when—we made it, I knew she'd be there. She had to. Somewhere in the crowd, her sharp gaze watching me, probably with that same unimpressed frown plastered on her face. And maybe,  if luck was on my side, I'd catch the glimpse of something softer. A smile. A cheer. Something meant for me.

That was the real prize I was chasing tonight. Winning was for the team, the school, the record. But the finals? That was for her.

•••

"We are down to the final seconds, ladies and gentlemen! What a cutthroat clash this has been between the White Tigers and the Red Bulls! The Tigers are clawing tooth and nail to hold their lead, but the Bulls—oh, the Bulls aren't letting go that easy!"

My lungs burned, my shirt clung to me, sweat dripping down my temple. The ball was in their hands—Red Bulls, cocky as ever, their captain dribbling like he already saw the victory in his pocket. Not on my watch. Not today.

"Red Bulls making their advance... could this be the winning shot?"

No. Not if I had anything to say about it.

I slipped in, sharp, fast, a blur slicing between their offense. One wrong step from them, one perfect timing from me—and the ball was mine. My fingers smacked against the leather, yanking it clean before the captain could even blink.

The crowd gasped.

"Tae—wait—oh my god, Taehyung steals the ball!"

My legs carried me before my brain could catch up, sneakers screeching against the court. A blur of red jerseys chased me, but the hoop was in sight, shining like salvation. My chest thudded with every step. The sound of the clock ticking down. The crowd screaming, the whole arena rising to their feet.

Up. Leap. Release.

"Three... two... one—"

Time froze. The ball arced through the air, perfect and slow, before swishing through the net just as the buzzer ripped the room in half.

We won.

The court detonated. The White Tigers erupted in wild cheers, our bench storming the court as the crowd hollered up.

My teammates swarmed me instantly, their arms wrapping around me, bodies crashing in celebration. Someone lifted me off the ground, the world tilting as I was carried across the court like a damn trophy. Laughter, shouting, pure ecstasy—our White Tigers had made it to the finals.

"And that's the game! White Tigers take the win, snatching victory from the Red Bulls in the very last second!"

Kwon caught my eye, his smile tight, too polite to be genuine, but he gave me a brisk pat on the back, murmured, "Good job," then vanished into the blur of bodies congratulating each other. For a second, I stared at his retreating back, but the euphoria was too much to dwell on him.

The high was dizzying. Every nerve in my body still buzzed with adrenaline, every shout echoing like thunder in my chest. It felt like I could run a marathon or collapse on the spot. My head spun with the weight of it—this victory, this moment.

I jogged off the court, still grinning, body humming with triumph. Inside the locker room, the sound of muffled celebrations echoed, but I found my corner, pulling open my locker. My phone sat there, black screen reflecting my still-breathless face. I wanted to text her, tell her, maybe even rub it in her face a little. Hell, I wasn't even sure if she'd pick up—but I wanted her to know.

Except... I didn't have to call.

The second I lit up my screen, her name flashed across it. An incoming call. My stomach dropped and soared at the same time. YN.

For a split second, my heart forgot how to beat. She never called. Not me. If she wanted to insult me, she did it to my face. If she wanted to ignore me, she did it spectacularly. But calling me? That was new. Dangerous.

I fumbled like an idiot before answering, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" Her voice was quick, almost rushed, like she'd been holding it in. "So? How was the match?"

A grin curled on my lips instantly, but I fought it down, leaning back against the locker with mock solemnity. "We lost."

"What?" She sounded startled, then skeptical. "No way. You're joking."

"Dead serious," I drawled, dropping into my best defeated tone. "Heartbreaking, really. We tried everything. Guess we weren't good enough."

Silence. No witty retort, no sarcastic jab. Just silence. And for a terrifying heartbeat, I thought she might actually believe me. Then came her voice, softer, almost cautious, "It's... okay, Taehyung. Don't beat yourself up over it."

That softness nearly cracked me. My grin stretched so wide it hurt, and I had to bite my lip to stop the laugh from spilling out. Her voice, gentle, comforting—was the exact opposite of her usual arsenal of sarcasm. And she was using it on me.

I couldn't hold it anymore. I exhaled sharply, chuckling into the receiver. "I'm kidding, YN. We won. We're in the finals."

There was a pause, then—"You—" She hissed, her voice rising like a whip. "You absolute piece of sh—!"

I held the phone a little away from my ear, pretending to wince. "Ow, ow—easy, that hurts my innocent ears. Be gentle."

"Innocent my ass," she muttered, clearly fuming. But then, softer, grudgingly, "...Congratulations."

Her voice dipped, almost swallowed by some noise on her end. A shuffle. Something heavy in her tone that tugged at me. I joked lightly, trying to lift it, but she sighed instead.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Her answer came quickly, like she wanted to spit it out before she lost courage. "Mr. Cha texted me this evening. Surprise test tomorrow. And I know I'm going to screw it up. The usual."

I straightened, the victory buzz dimming. "Wait, what? No, you'll be fine. Just revise what we solved together. Go over the formula sheet I gave you—you'll be good."

She hummed noncommittally. In the background, a store mic announced discounts on something, tinny over her line.

"You're out?" I asked, frowning.

"Yeah. Grocery store near my place."

I pulled my jersey off, already reaching for my bag. "Wait there. I'm coming."

"What—no, don't—"

Her sharp gasp hit my ear, but I was already hanging up, shoving the phone in my pocket. I didn't give her room to argue. Not when she sounded like that.

She'd thank me later. Probably. Or kill me. Fifty-fifty.

Either way, I was going.

YN'S POV

The grocery bag thudded against the pavement by my feet, heavier than it had any right to be. Three days of procrastinated errands now crammed into one giant punishment. Stocking up was overdue—three days overdue—and of course I had to wait until the exact hour the streets looked like a horror movie set. Perfect planning as always. Dad would've scolded me for that, but he wasn't here.

He wasn't going to be here for another week. His urgent business trip had yanked him away, leaving me with groceries, empty rooms, and a doctor's appointment I had to attend alone for the first time in my life. He'd nearly cried on the phone apologizing for not being there, voice cracking as if the sky had betrayed him. And maybe it had, but I wasn't going to let him lose his job over me. Over my lungs slowly betraying me. Life had to keep moving, even if mine felt stuck.

I clapped my hands together softly, trying to warm them, watching as my breath fogged into the night air—white plumes twisting like smoke. My eyes darted left, then right, scanning the street. Empty sidewalks. A flickering streetlamp. A stray cat slinking into an alley. And... no sign of him.

Taehyung. That guy.

I shouldn't have told him about Mr. Cha's stupid test. It wasn't a big deal, just another failure waiting for me. But no—he had to act like it was the end of the world, like my grades were somehow his business. And now he was probably running here instead of celebrating his team's big win with drinks and greasy food. That was probably the highlight of his life, and I'd yanked him away with my nonsense. 

 Idiot. I sighed, guilt gnawing at me anyway.

I adjusted the grocery bag, nearly toppling with the weight, then began strolling down the road slowly. It was too quiet for comfort, only the hum of distant traffic and the soft scrape of my shoes. I looked back now and then, half-hoping, half-dreading that he'd appear. If he really was coming, the least he could do was hurry up and carry the damn thing for me. That'd be useful, for once.

I was so caught up in that thought that I almost didn't notice the group until I stumbled right into them.

A wall of men. Not locals. Their hooded jackets, slouched walks, and the faint tang of alcohol told me enough.

"Watch where you're going," I snapped instinctively, my tongue quicker than my brain. The words came sharp, slicing through the night air. But the second they left my mouth, regret curled in my stomach.

One of them stepped closer, his buddies circling like shadows.

"Well, well," he drawled, voice dripping with mock amusement. "What do we have here?"

My spine stiffened. I hugged the bag to my chest like a shield. " What the hell? Stay away from me!"

They laughed ugly, hollow chuckles that bounced off the empty street. One man pulled his hood back, leaning close enough for his breath, hot and alcoholic, to fan across my face. I flinched, disgust crawling up my throat.

"Pretty girl like you," he whispered, his tone slithering. "Out here all alone. Do you know how rare it is for men like us to find such a sight? Why don't you come keep us company? Somewhere... private."

Another chimed in, grinning with yellowed teeth. "We'll take good care of you, babygirl."

My eyes widened, my throat tightening. I wanted to look strong, unbothered, but terror had already started to shake my body. My hands fumbled inside my pocket, pulling out the only thing I had—my pepper spray. I whipped it up, nozzle aimed, voice trembling but firm.

"Touch me, and you'll regret it."

But before I could press down, one of them lunged forward, yanking it from my grip like it was nothing. My heart plummeted. His friend chuckled, stepping so close I could see the dirt under his nails as he reached out, index finger tilting my chin up.

"Don't be shy—"

The rest of his sentence never made it out.

A crack split the air, sharp and violent. His body jerked, collapsing to the pavement with a heavy thud. I gasped, my scream lodging in my throat.

"Don't you dare lay your filthy hands on her, you assholes!"

That voice—low, growling, unshakable.

Taehyung.

I froze, my grocery bag slipping from my arms, cans clattering against the sidewalk. My legs moved before I could think, rushing straight toward him, toward the tall figure with fire in his eyes. My body trembled as I crashed into his chest, his arms instantly circling me, pulling me tight.

"Stop, don't cry, you're okay. I swear you're okay." he whispered urgently, his voice breaking.

The men roared, one spitting, "Who is she to you, pretty boy? That little sl—"

He didn't get to finish.

Taehyung slammed him into the concrete before the word could leave his mouth. His fists rained down, fury carving his face into something wild and terrifying.

"Taehyung, no!" My scream ripped from my throat as the others charged.

But he was a storm. Kicks, punches, a blur of limbs and rage. They tried to overwhelm him, but he moved like someone possessed, each hit fueled by something I couldn't name. Fists met jaws. Knees met stomachs. Every blow echoed in my ears.

And I—useless, terrified—I screamed. "Taehyung, stop! Please! Taehyung!"

My voice cracked into the night, desperate.

The ruckus drew attention. Store workers, who must've heard the noise, came running out, eyes widening as they saw what was happening. Without hesitation, they joined in, tackling the men off him, fists flying, the clash echoing across the block.

It felt endless, like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from, until finally—finally—the men staggered back, bleeding, cursing, muttering threats they didn't have the strength to carry out. They stumbled into the dark, retreating before the cops could be called, leaving us in the aftermath of broken breath and shaking limbs.

Taehyung's chest heaved, sweat and blood streaking across his face. He turned to me instantly, and I didn't think—I just ran into him again, sobbing into his shirt. His arms wrapped around me, solid, grounding.

The store workers hovered nearby, murmuring reassurances. "It's okay now. They're gone. You're safe, miss. Don't worry." They turned to him. "Get her home, fast. She's shaken up bad."

Taehyung nodded, his jaw tight, thanking them quickly.

But when my eyes finally lifted, my breath caught.

"Taehyung!" My voice broke. "Your head—you're bleeding. Oh my god!"

His hand lifted almost lazily, brushing his forehead. The smear of red came away on his fingertips. He blinked at it like he hadn't even noticed.

"It's nothing," he said quickly. "Just a scratch. Don't worry about me. Are you okay?"

His gaze softened as he cupped my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Shh. You're safe now. I promise, I won't let anyone hurt you."

My lips trembled as I gripped his arm tightly, words falling out cracked and uneven. "You—you're bruised. Taehyung, you're hurt. Badly. You need to be treated."

For the first time since the chaos, his composure faltered. His eyes flickered, then he exhaled with a soft laugh. "It's really not that bad. Just scratches."

"No." My voice cut sharper, firmer than I thought possible. "You hear me? No."

His eyes widened slightly at the steel in my tone. He hesitated, then sighed, shoulders sagging like he knew he wouldn't win this one.

"Alright, alright. A band-aid wouldn't hurt," he muttered. "I'll drop you off, then I'll head home—"

"No," I cut in, my head spinning, voice almost unrecognizable to myself. "You're coming with me."

His brows shot up, disbelief flickering across his face. "What?"

I swallowed hard, still trembling but clear in what I meant. "I'll treat your wounds. They look awful. Just... come with me."

Before he could argue, my fingers wrapped around his hand, tugging him forward. His skin was warm, rough and soft at the same time, grounding. I didn't look at his face—I didn't need to. The silence between us spoke enough.

Behind me, I heard him breathe in shakily. When I dared to glance, his eyes were on me, softer than I'd ever seen, glistening faintly under the streetlamp.

And for the first time that night, despite the fear still clawing inside me, I felt safe. Completely, impossibly safe.

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WORD COUNT: 3016 Words
PUBLISHED ON: Oct 13, 2024

LATEST EDITED VERSION as on 11th Sep, 2025

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A/N: The next published chapters have been currently unpublished for editing purposes. Stay tuned—and hit the vote button if you loved this chap!