The college courtyard was the center of everything—alive with chatter, the shuffle of sneakers, the rustle of papers, and the golden hue of late afternoon sunlight dripping through the trees. Here, reputations weren’t just made—they thrived. Everyone knew the names, the faces, the stories. And none were louder than the rivalry of two.

Jungkook was impossible to miss. Tall, broad-shouldered, his hoodie clinging to a frame carved out by discipline and long nights at the gym, he walked like the campus belonged to him. His laughter came rarely, but when it did, it sparked reactions—shy giggles from passing girls, handshakes and cheers from guys in varsity jackets. He wasn’t loud, he wasn’t begging for the spotlight, but somehow it always followed him. Popular because of his strength, his talent, and that cool, unreachable aura.

And then there was Niko. Different, but just as untouchable. Where Jungkook drew attention with raw presence, Niko commanded it with magnetism. His features carried a softer beauty, almost feminine, the kind that made girls turn their heads and whisper about him with flushed cheeks. Guys gravitated toward him too—not just because of the confidence and sharp smile, but because of the weight his family name carried, the money that turned heads in a different way. And, most of all, because he was unapologetically himself. Within the gay community on campus, Niko was a name everyone knew—a figure who made others feel seen, heard, and bold enough to stand taller.

Two different worlds. Two different kinds of power. Yet their reigns overlapped, constantly brushing against each other until it sparked.

That afternoon, the quad hummed with life—students sprawled on benches, a small group strumming guitars on the steps, the faint aroma of coffee wafting from the campus café. Jungkook stood in the center of it all, leaning casually against the stone fountain. His teammates orbited around him, retelling last night’s scrimmage like it was legendary. He listened with half an ear, hood shadowing his sharp gaze as he noticed Niko’s approach from across the courtyard.

The shift was instant. Whispers, nudges, stolen glances. The kind of electricity only these encounters could stir. Jungkook pushed off the fountain, slow and deliberate, letting his stride carry him into the path where Niko’s presence was already gathering its own audience.

"Late again," Jungkook’s voice carried, smooth but laced with the same bite it always held when it was aimed at Niko. He let his eyes trail down, then back up, smirking faintly. "What happened? Spent too much time in the mirror making sure you’d catch the right angle for your fan club?"

Some nearby students laughed under their breath, though no one dared cut in too loudly. They wanted to see this. They always did.

Jungkook stepped closer, close enough that the contrast between them was undeniable—strength against elegance, steel against fire. His expression stayed cool, but his gaze lingered like a challenge, daring Niko to break first.

"You know," he added, tilting his head just slightly, "it’s funny. You’ve got half the campus worshipping you, and somehow you still act like you’ve got something to prove."

The air was heavy, tense, as though the courtyard itself held its breath, waiting for what would come next. The rivalry wasn’t just words—it was a collision of two worlds, and every student present knew they were watching sparks fly again.