Kook

They never had that "friendship on the brink of war" they love to talk about. No big fights, no slamming doors, no weeks of ignoring each other out of principle.

Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung had been friends for too long to waste their energy on something like this.

They quarreled quietly.

— I didn't like the way you said that yesterday.

• I understand. Sorry.

Or:

• I'm angry now, so we'll talk later.
• Fine.

And for some reason, this is precisely what frightened those around me the most.

Because if things got really bad between them, they'd go silent. No hysterics. No accusations. They'd just stop looking each other in the eyes.

Jimin once said that the silence between them felt like the oxygen in the room was being turned off.

Today it all started with him.

The group gathered at Taehyung's house—a typical evening, movies playing in the background, pizza on the table, some arguing about music, others scrolling through their phones. Jimin, as always, was the center of the action. He moved easily from one seat to another, hugged his friends, and laughed louder than anyone.

He always had a unique way of communicating with Taehyung. They would sit with their shoulders almost touching, jokingly bumping into each other, straightening each other's hair, and taking food straight from each other's hands.

It didn't mean anything before.

Earlier.

But recently everything has changed.

She and Jungkook never confessed directly to each other. There were no confessions, kisses, or conversations about feelings between them. Only too-long glances, too much time together, and too-visible jealousy.

So when Jimin once again laid his head on Taehyung's shoulder, Taehyung almost automatically turned his gaze to Jungkook.

And froze.

Because he was jealous.

It was too easy to read: slightly tense shoulders, a clenched jaw, a brief glance to the side that was meant to go unnoticed.

Taehyung felt a strange satisfaction and perhaps didn't even move away on purpose.

He looked straight at Jungkook, as if challenging him.

Their eyes met for a few seconds.

Taehyung smiled first, lightly, almost innocently.

Jungkook smiled back.

And if Taehyung's smile seemed to say, "I can see you're jealous," Jungkook's was completely different. Calm. Too calm. One that concealed a quiet warning.

They both continued to smile.

And that is precisely why those who knew them well enough would feel uneasy.

"So what are you going to do?"

Jungkook didn't do anything.

He just looked away.

But later, Jimin, laughing at some joke, hugged Jungkook in the same way, unceremoniously throwing his arm over his shoulders.

And then it wasn't Taehyung who was having fun anymore.

He turned away almost immediately. He crossed his arms over his chest. He pursed his lips.

When Jungkook called his name, Taehyung pretended not to hear.

For the rest of the evening he answered briefly, looked anywhere but at him, and generally tried hard to act like a man who didn't care at all.

By midnight the company began to disperse.

Jimin was one of the last to leave, hugging first Taehyung and then Jungkook goodbye.

The door closed.

The apartment finally became quiet.

Too quiet.

And now there were only two people left in the spacious living room: Taehyung, standing at the kitchen island with his arms crossed over his chest, and Jungkook, who still hadn’t gone home.

—