The practice room mirrors were usually my favorite part of the day—a place to perfect my form—but today, they were just reflecting a version of myself I didn't recognize. A version that felt like he was burning from the inside out.
I sat on the floor, leaning against the back wall, nursing a bottle of lukewarm water. Across the room, Namjoon-hyung was draped over the sofa, Jin-hyung on one side and Jimin on the other. They were laughing—that deep, soul-shaking laugh of Namjoon's that makes his eyes disappear into tiny crescents.
Jimin said something—I couldn't hear what—and leaned his head onto Namjoon's shoulder. Namjoon didn't pull away. Instead, he reached up and ruffled Jimin's hair, his hand lingering just a second too long.
I squeezed my water bottle. The plastic crinkled loudly in the quiet moments between their laughter.
*Why is he touching him like that?* The thought was sharp, unbidden, and mean. I didn't want to be mean. I loved Jimin. But seeing Namjoon's attention directed so fully, so warmly, at someone else felt like a physical weight on my chest. It was a cold, bitter coil in my stomach that I finally recognized for what it was: **jealousy.**
"You okay, JK? You're staring a hole through the floor," Hobi-hyung asked, walking past me.
"Fine," I snapped, then immediately winced. "Sorry, Hyung. Just tired."
I turned my gaze back to Namjoon. He was the one who had brought me to this company. He was my "Pop Star," my hero. I'd always looked at him with admiration, but lately, that admiration had started to mutate into something heavier. Something that made my pulse race when he walked into a room and made my throat tight when he didn't look at me first.
I watched as Namjoon threw his arm around Jin's neck, whispering something that made Jin shriek with laughter. Namjoon looked so relaxed, so open.
*I want that,* I realized, my heart thudding painfully. *I don't want to just be his 'Golden Maknae' anymore. I want to be the reason he laughs like that. I want to be the one he leans on.*
I stood up abruptly, the movement catching Namjoon's eye. For a brief second, our gazes locked across the crowded room. His expression softened, his eyebrows knitting together in that silent way he asks, *'Are you okay?'*
I didn't smile back. I couldn't. I just grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
"Jungkook-ah? Where are you going?" Namjoon called out, his voice echoing.
"Shower!" I shouted back, not turning around.
I hurried into the hallway, leaning my back against the cool drywall of the corridor. I closed my eyes, and all I could see was the memory of his lips from the other day—the "accident" that had rewritten the map of my heart. I hadn't just kissed my leader; I had woken up a part of myself that was now starving for him.
The jealousy wasn't just about him talking to the others. It was the realization that I was falling, and I had no idea if he was standing there ready to catch me, or if I was falling alone.