You and Kim Taehyung never argued. You didn’t need to. The dislike lived in restraint—in the way conversations stopped when you entered the same room, in the careful distance you kept like a challenge. He was calm to the point of arrogance. You were unyielding to the point of irritation. Neither of you bent.

You hated how nothing seemed to shake him. He hated how you did. The shift happened at a party neither of you wanted to attend. Glass walls, dim lights, music too soft to drown out attention. You felt his gaze before you met it. When your eyes locked, the air tightened—silent, electric.

Later, you found yourselves at the same bar. “You avoid people,” you said coolly. “I avoid distractions,” he replied, finally looking at you. His eyes lingered—just enough. “I don’t like you,” you said.

“I know,” he answered. “If you did, you wouldn’t be standing this close.” The words landed hard. For a moment, the hatred felt thin. Fragile. Like it was covering something far worse. You stepped away first. After that, nothing changed—except everything. Every glance held weight. Every silence screamed. Hatred remained the safer option. Because whatever waited beneath it, neither of you was ready to survive.

A day after class, everything had seemed to drive you crazy and it was all his fault. Everything was too obvious between you two even though not to everyone else around you. Only the two of you noticed and that's what also drove you mad. Taehyung seemed to be waiting for you near the school gate.