Enthralled || Liskook

Chapter 71

The training room was a deserted island of illumination, bathed in an unnatural glow amidst the surrounding darkness. 

Here, in this sanctuary from the enforced slumber, 

Jungkook and Yoongi, veterans of countless tournaments, held court. Coach's special permission granted them sole dominion over their training schedule. 

A flash of red, white, and blue in the national team uniform announced Kim Nsmjoon's arrival. He draped himself against the wall by the door, one arm slung casually across his neck. 

His gaze landed on the closest table, where Yoongi, a whirlwind of motion, initiated the first act of their self imposed drill: alternate goals, one for two. 

As Yoongi juggled a crimson orb and its multicolored companion, a frown creased his brow. He hefted the cue, his posture straightening with a touch of annoyance. 

His eyes darted towards Jungkook, who leaned indolently against the opposite wali, engrossed in his phone. 

“Enough lovey-dovey,” Yoongi's voice cut through the quiet, laced with a hint of exasperation. "Let's practice.” 

Jungkook, unfazed, tapped out a message a single word, 

‘Sleep.’ 

Before slipping his phone away. He turned his gaze to Namjoon. 

Namjoon, with a knowing smile, chimed in, his voice a low harmony, "Don't worry, my friend. I can still play for one or two.” 

Jungkook offered a curt nod in agreement. 

Yoongi had always bristled at the Busan Club crew and their devil-may-care attitude. 

Whether on the court or in the locker room, their lack of focus grated on him. Yet, he couldn't deny the shift since Jungkook's return. There was a renewed fire, a push to excel. 

Greatness attracts greatness, a silent competition that whispers of limitless potential. 

Jungkook's prowess served as a constant prod, a challenge to his peers, urging them to shed complacency and chase their own horizons. 

Jungkook saw a shadow cross Yoongi's face. He strode to the table, cue held purposefully. 

"Boring drills," Jungkook declared, leaning close, a playful glint in his eye that belied his intent. “Let's pick up the pace.” 

Yoongi's voice was clipped. 

"I'm good," he said, clenching his jaw to fight back a retort. “Don't think I can't keep up if you speed things up.” 

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge met with a playful smirk. Just you wait, old friend. 

For the next half hour, the table became a blur of flying balls and rhythmic cracks. 

Kim Namjoon, a silent observer, munched on pistachios, the crunch of shells providing a counterpoint to the competition. 

Finally, Namjoon spoke. "Thirsty work,” he said, rising. "Let me grab some drinks." 

Jungkook sent a final shot, a perfect cue ball arcing over the table. 

With a laugh, Namjoon dodged the cue ball, his white tracksuit jacket billowing as he exited the room, a bag of white shells his only trophy. 

He returned with a battered red thermos and mismatched plastic cups, a few sporting questionable tea stains. 

"Time for a break," Namjoon announces, setting the cups on the bench and carefully pouring steaming water. "Wet your whistles, boys."