ENEMIES WITH BENEFITS

「THREE」

The art room was a dump. Paint splattered on every surface, the air thick with the sharp sting of turpentine and dusty sketchbooks.

Jungkook slouched in a rickety chair, boots kicked up on a table scarred with years of carved initials and dried glue. His eyes were glued to the back of Taehyung's head, that dark mess of hair catching the light as the nerd fucked around with some ancient-ass school camera. Jungkook's leg bounced under the table, his jaw tight enough to crack a tooth. This photography project was already a goddamn nightmare, and it hadn't even started.

Taehyung texted him last night- Art room, 3:30. Don't be a dick and bail.- and Jungkook had shown up, mostly because failing another class would get his ass kicked out of the band.

Jungkook wasn't about to let some prissy nerd like Kim hold that over his head. But sitting here, watching Taehyung's slim fingers adjust the camera lens with that annoying precision, made Jungkook's skin crawl.

It wasn't just the project. It was that fucking party- Taehyung's lips an inch from his, that smug voice calling him out, those eyes cutting through his bullshit. Jungkook's stomach felt.. weird, and he hated it. Really hated him.

"Quit fidgeting, dumbass," Taehyung said, not even looking up from the camera. His voice was flat, like he was scolding a kid who wouldn't sit still. "You're wasting my time."

Jungkook's boots hit the floor with a thud, his smirk sharp and mean. "Fuck you, Kim. I'm here, aren't I? Don't act like you're my fucking boss." Jungkook snapped, elbows on his knees, trying to get a rise out of him. "What's the plan, huh? You gonna make me hold hands with a puppy for your gay-ass 'connection' photo?"

Taehyung's head snapped up, those piercing eyes locking onto Jungkook's through the camera's viewfinder. The look hit like a fist to the chest, and Jungkook's smirk slipped for a split second before he forced it back.

No way. He wasn't letting this nerd fuck with his head again, not after that bathroom shit at Jackson's party. He'd spent all fucking weekend trying to forget it- Taehyung's low growl- the way their breaths had tangled, how Jungkook's body had screamed to close that last inch.

He wasn't some fag. He was Jeon fucking Jungkook, and he didn't bend for anyone, especially not a loser like Kim Taehyung.

"You're modeling," Taehyung said dryly. "I'm shooting. We're doing this by the old bleachers. Less chance of you breaking shit in here."

Taehyung slung the camera strap over his shoulder, grabbed his notebook, and headed for the door without a glance back. "Move your ass."

Jungkook's fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. "You don't tell me what to do, nerd," Jungkook snapped, but he stood anyway, shoving his hands in his pockets and trailing Taehyung out the door.

Jungkook told himself it was for the grade, not because he was curious about what Taehyung was planning. Definitely not because his brain kept replaying that party, Taehyung's cologne, the way his glasses had fogged up. Fuck that.

The old bleachers were a rusted piece of crap behind the gym, surrounded by overgrown weeds and cigarette butts. Kids came here to smoke weed or screw, and the late afternoon sun made the metal look like a burned-out skeleton. Taehyung set up the tripod like he was some pro photographer instead of a high school dork.

Jungkook leaned against the bleachers, arms crossed, his scowl deepening as he watched Taehyung adjust the camera like it was his fucking baby.

"What, you some wannabe Ansel Adams now?" Jungkook snorted, kicking a rock into the grass. "Thought you just jerked off to calculus in your free time."