Chapter 5: The Water Fight War

It was supposed to be a peaceful school trip.

A calm, educational retreat to a scenic countryside village, full of temples, cherry trees, and quiet winding roads. A trip meant for “cultural enrichment” and “class bonding,” as the teacher had proudly announced.

But within thirty minutes of arrival, Class 2-B declared open war.

And it started—with Taehyung, naturally.

Jungkook stood near the koi pond in the temple courtyard, watching the golden fish flit lazily beneath the surface. He liked it here. Peaceful. Silent.

Then came a scream.

A very Taehyung-shaped scream.

“AMBUSH!”

Jungkook barely turned before a bucket of cold water splashed over his shoulder, missing him by inches.

His eyes slowly tracked to his right.

Taehyung stood there, holding the now-empty bucket like a guilty toddler.

“Oops,” Taehyung said.

Jungkook’s jaw dropped. “Did you just throw water at me?”

“I was aiming for Jimin!” Taehyung said, pointing wildly toward the fleeing boy two feet behind Jungkook. “You got in the way!”

“I was standing still.”

“Exactly. Stationary targets are a trap!”

Jungkook was still dripping when someone shouted, “He started it!” and suddenly—chaos.

Buckets, water bottles, a hose someone definitely wasn’t supposed to find—every student armed themselves with whatever they could grab. The courtyard turned into a full-on battlefield.

Jungkook dodged a flying sponge and barely avoided a girl swinging a wet towel like a whip.

Taehyung, however, was in his element.

Soaked from head to toe, hair plastered against his forehead, he grinned like a man who’d just conquered Rome.

“Come on, Bunny!” he called, throwing Jungkook a water balloon. “Fight back! Or are you scared to get wet?”

“I already am wet,” Jungkook muttered, but caught the balloon anyway.

He held it in his hand.

Weighed it.

Then turned and nailed Taehyung in the chest.

Direct hit.

The splash echoed.

The courtyard froze.

Taehyung looked down at his soaked uniform… then up at Jungkook.

A beat passed.

Then he smiled.

Slow. Dangerous. Adoring.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re so dead.”

Jungkook ran for his life.

Down the garden path, over the tiny bridge, past a group of confused tourists. Taehyung chased after him with the wild determination of a dog with a bone—and murder in his eyes.

They finally collapsed behind the tool shed near the outer fence, both panting and laughing, out of breath and out of ammunition.

Jungkook sat down on the grass, shirt clinging to his back.

Taehyung dropped beside him, flopping dramatically.

“That,” Taehyung gasped, “was the greatest day of my life.”

“You’re insane.”

“You hit me with a water balloon.”

“You deserved it.”

“You looked like you enjoyed it.”

Jungkook turned away, cheeks flushed. “Shut up.”

They sat in silence for a moment, steam rising off their skin in the late afternoon sun.

Then Taehyung turned his head and said, “You laughed.”

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

“Earlier. During the fight. You laughed.”

“I guess.”

“I’ve never heard you laugh like that before.” Taehyung’s voice dropped, softer now. “It was nice.”

Jungkook looked down. “I guess… you make it hard not to.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicked to him, searching.

Something passed between them in the stillness—warm, delicate, dangerous.

“I didn’t throw the bucket by accident, you know,” Taehyung said suddenly.

Jungkook looked up.

“I saw you there. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

Jungkook blinked. “So you… assaulted me with water because you missed me?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m consistent.”

Jungkook stared at him, heart thudding in his chest.

“I don’t get you,” he whispered.

“You’re not supposed to,” Taehyung replied. “You’re supposed to keep wondering.”

Later that night, back in their shared room at the inn, Taehyung hung his uniform out to dry near the window. The moonlight caught his profile just right—eyes half-lidded, jawline sharp, but shoulders relaxed in a way Jungkook rarely saw.

“You’re staring,” Taehyung said without turning around.

“I’m not,” Jungkook lied, hastily looking away.

“You’re terrible at lying.”

“You’re just good at catching things.”

Taehyung glanced over his shoulder, something playful but unreadable in his eyes.

“That’s true,” he said. “Especially when it comes to you.”

That night, long after lights-out, Jungkook lay awake in the futon beside him.

The room was dark, the only sound the rhythmic tick of the wall clock and the faint breathing beside him.

He turned his head slightly.

Taehyung’s face was turned toward him. Eyes closed. Lashes long. One hand half-curled near his mouth, like he’d fallen asleep mid-thought.

He looked peaceful.

He looked like someone who’d never once hurt anyone.

And yet… he had hurt Jungkook. With words. With mockery. With confusion.

But somehow, Jungkook couldn’t resent him for it.

Because under all that noise, there was something tender. Real. Frightened.

And Jungkook understood that kind of fear too well.

Before he knew it, Jungkook whispered into the dark, “I don’t hate you, you know.”

There was no reply.

But something in the air shifted.

Like the dark had listened.

And smiled.

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