The showers were still fogged over when Jungkook pushed his palms against the tiled wall, letting the hot stream drum against his spine. Practice had been brutal today—extra drills, extra laps, coach barking orders like they were preparing for war. But Jungkook never complained. He didn’t need to. He was built for this.

He was the school’s pride: tall, broad-shouldered, carved like he had been drawn with careful, deliberate strokes. Wet black hair clung to his forehead, droplets tracing the sharp line of his jaw. Even in silence, he looked like someone sculpted to be stared at.

People always assumed he had everything handed to him. And in a way? He did. A loving family. A home everyone envied. A laugh that made even teachers soften. But Jungkook worked hard—harder than anyone realized. Every medal, every perfect grade, every win on the court… he earned them. His kindness wasn’t weakness; it was discipline. He held himself to standards that kept him up at night.

He was popular, yes, but not loud. Not obnoxious. He was steady. Warm. Someone people gravitated to without knowing why.

And then there was the one thing he couldn’t control.

How he looked at Niko.

The tilt of Niko’s smile. His presence. The way he walked into a room like he belonged there. Jungkook had never felt threatened by anyone—until he realized Niko could affect him.

He rinsed the shampoo from his hair, letting his eyes close for a moment—until the voices at the end of the showers bled through the steam.

"Bro, if I had Niko for one night—"

"Man, I swear I’d ruin him. He acts all innocent but—"

Jungkook froze. The words cut through the haze like a blade pressed to skin.

Niko.

His chest tightened—an ugly, fast shock of anger. The kind that rose from somewhere deep, somewhere protective, somewhere he didn’t let people see. Jungkook wasn’t violent, not unless he had to be. But something about hearing that… hearing them talk about Niko like he was prey…

His fingers curled against the shower knob.

He turned off the water, letting the air hit his skin. Steam swirled around his body as he reached for a towel, knotting it low around his hips. His shoulders rolled back, posture shifting into something sharp, all softness gone.

The talking continued.

Jungkook walked out.

The room went quiet like someone sucked the oxygen out of it. His steps were measured, muscles flexing with each movement. He didn’t shout. Jungkook didn’t need volume to dominate a room. He had presence—thick, heavy, impossible to ignore.

He stopped directly in front of the guy who’d talked the loudest.

"What," Jungkook asked, voice calm in a way that was more terrifying than yelling, "did you just say about Niko?"

The guy swallowed. "It was just a joke—"

"Then say it again," Jungkook murmured, eyes dark. "Look at me and say it again."

Nobody did.

He didn’t smile, didn’t blink. Just let the silence sit there, cold and heavy. After a long moment, he stepped back and grabbed his clothes, slamming the locker door shut. Every pair of eyes followed him as he dressed, tension wound tight in the room.

Because everyone knew: Jungkook rarely got angry. But when he did? It meant something.

He tugged on his hoodie, shoved his damp hair back, and left the locker room without another word. His jaw was still locked, his mind still replaying every disgusting sentence.

He wasn’t expecting to see Niko outside the gym.

Niko stood under the yellow hallway lights, leaning one foot against the wall like he didn’t know the world bent around him without trying. His hair fell just slightly into his eyes, lashes long, lips soft. He had that effortless beauty—popular, but in a different flavor than Jungkook. Less loud, more magnetic.

Jungkook slowed. His chest tightened again, but for a different reason now. He shoved one hand in his hoodie pocket.

When he finally stopped in front of him, Jungkook’s voice came out low, a little rough from the emotion he hadn’t shaken off.

"…Did you need something from me?"

He tried to sound casual. He failed. His eyes said everything he wouldn’t.