Spring Day // Kim Taehyung ( V )

Chapter 13

Taehyung's POV

Reflecting on yesterday's moments at Haeundae Beach, a quiet smile crept onto my face. That day remains one of the most memorable trips I've experienced—simple, genuine, and unexpectedly meaningful. I pulled out my phone, unlocking it with a familiar swipe, scrolling through the gallery. Each picture told a story—faded sunlight, carefree laughter, fleeting glimpses of a perfect day. I lingered on them longer than usual, as if trying to etch those moments into my memory.

Suddenly, a voice broke my reverie. "Taehyung-ah, are you listening?"

Snapping out of my thoughts, I quickly locked my phone and slipped it into my pocket. I turned to see Namjoon's gaze fixed on me, his tone gentle but insistent.

"Oh, right, sorry." I replied, offering a small, sheepish smile. My attention shifted to him, focusing on his words as he discussed our upcoming fansign. Officially, we were meant to be on a break, but our manager's suggestion to meet fans—given the overwhelming requests—felt like a small act of gratitude. If it brought happiness to the ARMYs, it was worth it.

Jin Hyung proposed, "Since our new song isn't ready, maybe we can perform one of our older tracks."

The idea was quickly embraced. We started tossing around options, the energy lightening as we debated.

"How about 'I Like It'? It's perfect for a small performance," Jimin chimed in brightly, eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. Jungkook nodded in agreement, exchanging a quick high-five with him.

Namjoon looked thoughtful. "Sounds good. 'I Like It' is a classic for us."

The decision made, Jin raised his hand. "So, who's hungry?"

Without hesitation, we all raised ours. Food was a universal language among us, and it seemed like the only logical next step.

We headed downstairs, the familiar corridors of Namjoon's room leading us to the kitchen. The aroma of cooking filled the air as Mrs. Roque set out the dishes. The others went straight in, eager, while Jungkook and I lingered briefly in the living room.

That's when I saw her.

She was sitting on the couch, a figure I knew all too well, yet her presence struck me anew. She was with someone—a man I hadn't seen before, casually holding a guitar as she listened intently. The scene was unremarkable on the surface, but in that moment, her expression told a different story. Her eyes sparkled, laughter spilling freely as she engaged with him, a genuine joy that seemed unguarded. Watching her, I hesitated—unsure whether I should interrupt or let the moment pass.

Jungkook's voice broke the silence. "What's wrong?" he asked, noticing my pause.

I shook my head, motioning toward the kitchen. He looked toward the living room, understanding without words. We moved silently, the weight of unspoken feelings settling between us as we approached the kitchen and found the meal served.

Mrs. Roque called out, "Gina! Dinner's ready."

Both George and the man froze briefly, exchanging glances before they approached us. I averted my gaze, feeling an inexplicable tension tighten inside me. Her presence unsettled me more than I expected.

"Taehyung, this is Jackson. My friend," George introduced shyly, offering a tentative smile. Jackson greeted us with a polite nod, smiling warmly. The boys responded with a casual greeting, but I remained silent. Something about him—an instinct I couldn't ignore—made me wary. I offered a cold smile in return and looked away as quickly as I could.

Mrs. Roque's invitation was met with a polite decline from Jackson, who excused himself, citing his parents waiting at home.

As he left, I felt an odd emptiness settle in. My appetite vanished, replaced by a desire to retreat into solitude. My thoughts churned—why this bitter reaction? Why did I feel so resistant to him? It was unlike me to be this way, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Memories flickered—her eyes, bright and sparkling as she watched Jackson play the guitar, her laughter ringing out, her face glowing with happiness. She was so at ease, so different from her usual self. It struck me—could she be falling for him?

I shook my head, trying to dismiss the thought. But then I saw her again—seated a few seats away, an expression of pure ecstasy on her face, cheeks flushed, her smile radiant. A strange ache curled inside me, a confusing mixture of envy and longing. I didn't understand this sensation—this unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling that my heart was tightening whenever I saw her smile like that.

Why does her happiness—her ease around him—sting me so? Why does the sight of her so carefree with someone else twist in my chest? I've never felt this way before. It's as if a new, uncharted territory has opened inside me, one I'm hesitant to explore.

And yet, I can't deny it—something has shifted. Watching George's eyes light up, her face alight with joy, I realize I'm caught in a quiet storm of emotions I don't fully understand. All I know is, I don't want her to be with him. But more than that, I don't want to feel this way at all.

****

George's POV

Since Jackson needed to leave, I insisted on accompanying him to the gate—a gesture born out of respect for his effort today. We walked in silence, the quiet punctuated only by the faint sounds of footsteps on gravel. When we reached the gate, he paused, turning to face me as if expecting to say something.

"Thanks for today, George," Jackson said softly, a genuine smile touching his lips.

I hesitated for a moment before replying, "I should be the one thanking you. Without your help, I wouldn't have been able to pull this off."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that seemed to soften his otherwise serious demeanor. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he added, "You were right about your mom. She does resemble you a lot."

I raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, a bit defensive.

Jackson simply smiled, studying me with an intensity that made my stomach tighten. Before I could react, he leaned in slightly, and my pulse quickened unexpectedly. My mind raced with a jumble of thoughts—uncertainty, curiosity, a strange flutter of anticipation. Then, unexpectedly, he pinched my nose and burst out laughing.

I slapped his hand away, rolling my eyes, though my heart was pounding loudly enough to drown out everything else.

"You didn't think I was actually going to kiss you, did you?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You wish," I shot back, crossing my arms, trying to mask the flush on my cheeks.

Jackson's gaze softened, and his voice turned a little more sincere. "What I meant was, your mom's beautiful. Just like you."

His words lingered in the air, and I couldn't help but feel my cheeks warm even more. I looked away, trying to hide how uncomfortable—and strangely drawn—I felt in that moment. Jackson's presence always had that effect on me. It wasn't just his words or actions; it was the way he looked at me, the way he seemed to see right through the surface.

"Y-you should go," I managed, voice barely above a whisper, avoiding his eyes.

He nodded, a small smile on his face. "Yeah, I think I should. See you tomorrow, George." Then, reaching into his bag, he pulled out something small—my wallet, which I'd left behind last Friday.

"Oh, right. I almost forgot about this," I said, voice steadier now, as I took it from him, offering a faint chuckle. I mouthed a quiet thanks, eyes cast downward.

He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in quickly and pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek before turning away and walking off without looking back. I stood there, frozen, fingertips brushing the spot where his lips had touched. My cheeks tingled, and a strange warmth spread through me. As soon as he disappeared from sight, I found myself slowly closing the gate, a faint smile lingering on my lips.

My heart still hammering in my chest, I wondered—what was this feeling? Was it confusion, excitement, or something else entirely? I wasn't sure, but one thing was clear: this moment would stay with me a long time.