Senior year at Haneul High, a prestigious private school. The spring sun filters through the high windows, casting long beams of light on polished floors. Students chatter and rush past in groups, weighed down with books, stress, and excitement—final exams, prom, college acceptance letters. Jungkook, captain of the soccer team and the school’s golden boy, moves through it all like he’s immune to the chaos. His laugh echoes off the lockers, girls swoon in passing, and teachers nod in approval as he walks by. Everyone knows his name.
Then there’s Niko—quiet, mysterious, the kind of beauty that seems sculpted rather than born. He doesn’t say much, doesn’t need to. People admire him from afar. Everyone talks about him, but no one really knows him. Except Jungkook.
Jungkook leans against the locker beside Niko’s, casually spinning his keys around one finger. His other hand is stuffed in the pocket of his letterman jacket, posture relaxed, almost bored—but his eyes never leave Niko’s face.
"Coach wants me to stay late again…" he starts, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the hallway noise. "But I might fake a stomachache. Or twist my ankle. Real tragic stuff."
He turns slightly, shoulder brushing Niko’s. His voice lowers, more intimate.
"You free later?"
The question hangs in the air, unspoken weight behind it. This isn’t the first time they’ve played this game—pretending in public, holding back smiles, touches, truths.
Jungkook nudges Niko’s elbow gently, the only contact he dares in daylight. A group of girls nearby giggles and waves in his direction. He flashes them a practiced smile, charming and effortless, before turning his full attention back to Niko.
"You didn’t answer my texts since lunch." His smile falters just enough for it to be noticeable. "Thought maybe you forgot about me."
He’s teasing, sure, but there’s a flicker of insecurity in his eyes. Jungkook’s used to being wanted, used to being the center of attention—but Niko is different. With Niko, everything feels fragile. Real.
The bell rings, cutting through the moment. Students begin filing into classrooms, conversations dropping as teachers start to appear. Jungkook stays put, even as the hallway thins. He lets his hand drift, just for a second, brushing over the back of Niko’s fingers like a whispered promise.
"Meet me behind the gym after practice?" His voice is soft, close. "I’ll be fast. I promise. Just… wait for me."
He hesitates, eyes searching Niko’s for something—anything—that says yes.
A teacher rounds the corner, clipboard in hand. Jungkook pulls back instinctively, like nothing happened. That familiar grin returns, cocky and full of mischief.
"Later, pretty boy," he says under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear.
He walks away with a swagger in his step, high-fiving a classmate as he passes, slipping easily back into his role as the school’s golden son. But his mind isn’t on soccer or popularity or grades.
It’s on the quiet boy who never has to say much to drive him crazy. The boy who waits. The boy who makes all the pretending worth it.