Bully for Love
Seon Y/N never meant to laugh at Kim Taehyung in class, but one small slip-up turned into a rivalry that shook her entire school life. Ever since that day, they've been sworn enemies, their every encounter a battlefield of sharp words...
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(Y/N's POV)
I sighed, rubbing my eyes as I heard the familiar beam of light slicing through the darkness of my room once again. Seriously? Couldn't this guy give it a rest? I shifted in bed, glaring at the offending light that seemed determined to disrupt my peace.
"Does he ever sleep?" I muttered to myself, rolling over and yanking the pillow over my head in a futile attempt to block out both the light and my irritation. It was bad enough having him sneak into my room via that damn ladder almost every night for our study sessions. Now, this new tactic with the flashlight was just crossing a line.
The light flickered again, and I groaned, throwing the pillow aside. Reluctantly, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stomped over to the window, throwing the curtains open with more force than necessary. There he was, standing like some mischievous sprite in his own window, grinning like he'd just won a prize.
God, I hated that awfully perfect lopsided grin.
I stormed away from the window, yanking the curtains shut so hard that the rod almost came off. How could someone be so infuriating and yet so...so everything at the same time? I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling in exasperation. Taehyung was a conundrum I couldn't solve, a puzzle that was missing crucial pieces.
I needed something to hold over him, a leverage to use when he became too unbearable. My mind drifted to that audio recorder yoongi had mentioned about. There had to be something juicy on that thing, something I could use to balance the scales of this ongoing war between us.
Getting my hands on it wouldn't be easy. He kept it hidden in his room, probably in some secret spot I'd never be able to find. But I needed to try. Desperation and the need for some form of blackmail pushed me towards thoughts of sneaking into his room. Maybe then I could find something to stop his nighttime torture sessions with that flashlight.
As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts drifted back to our conversation on the field trip. Learning about his past had hit me harder than I'd expected. He'd grown up in an orphanage, facing hardships I couldn't even imagine. The tales of his struggle, how he and his friends had fought to stay together, how they'd scraped by with barely enough to eat—it was all so painfully raw and real. I hated the way it made me feel, hated that it made me see him in a different light.
It was as if knowing his past had peeled back a layer of the obnoxious, arrogant jerk I'd known, revealing a side of him that was more vulnerable, more human. And that made hating him completely...difficult. I wanted to hate him, wanted to cling to that anger and irritation because it was simpler, cleaner. But every time I saw him smile, saw him laugh, or even just caught a glimpse of his softer side, my resolve wavered.
And then there was the tutoring. Despite my initial reluctance, he was actually picking up English pretty fast. It was maddening to see how quickly he grasped concepts, how his mind worked through the grammar rules that had once seemed impossible to him. He was smarter than I'd given him credit for, and the fact that he put in the effort to learn, despite his annoying habits, was...admirable.
