CROSS-CHECKED (VSOO)

12

Jisoo

The gym smelled faintly of floor polish and sweat, the way it always does after a long practice. My sneakers squeaked against the wooden floor as I landed another jump—off beat. Again.

"Jisoo!" Alisha's voice rang across the court, sharp but not cruel. She clapped her hands in time with the music. "Stay on beat! One, two, three, four—keep the energy up!"

I nodded quickly, forcing a smile like everything was fine, even though my head wasn't here. I tried to focus on the rhythm of the track blasting through the speakers, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. Flashes of last night kept pushing their way in—Taehyung's hands gripping my waist, his mouth brushing against my ear, his voice low and rough.

I stumbled again.

The routine broke apart for me, like my body forgot what came next even though I've done it a hundred times.

Alisha's whistle blew. "Focus, Jisoo! Don't make me make you run drills."

"Yeah, sorry," I muttered, cheeks burning, though not just from the effort.

We pushed through the last few minutes, and I prayed she wouldn't notice how out of sync I was. My muscles felt heavy, my thoughts slow, and every beat seemed to hit a second too late.

Finally, the music stopped, and we all clapped our hands in that automatic cheerleader way—routine, mechanical.

The second I sat down on the bench to untie my shoes, Alisha crouched in front of me, captain mode still in full swing but her eyes softer now.

"You okay?" she asked, brows knitting together. "You've been struggling a lot today. That's not like you."

"I'm fine," I said quickly, forcing another smile. But right then, like my body was mocking me, a sharp pain shot through my lower stomach. My muscles clenched involuntarily, and I winced before I could hide it.

Alisha's eyes narrowed. "Are you—"

"Really, I'm fine," I cut in, hoping my voice didn't sound as strained as it felt. I yanked my bag up onto my shoulder before she could press further.

The moment practice ended, I practically bolted, cutting through the gym doors and heading toward the girls' bathroom across campus. My hand stayed pressed to my stomach, my pace quickening with every cramp. The hallways were empty, the sound of my sneakers echoing against the tiled floors.

When I got inside the bathroom, I locked myself in a stall and pulled down my tights—only to see it.

Blood.

My eyes shut tightly. "Shit."

I'd completely forgotten. Between practice, classes, and... him... my period wasn't even on my radar. The cramps twisted again, harder this time, making me grip the metal partition.

I dug through my bag desperately. No pad. Of course.

My phone could save me—I could call Alisha—but when I pulled it out, the black screen stared back at me. Dead. Perfect.

Another wave of pain hit me so hard I had to bite my lip to stop from groaning. I didn't have the energy to trek all the way back across campus to my dorm. My legs felt weak, heavy.

I forced myself out of the stall, hand still pressed to my stomach, and stumbled back into the hallway. My bag felt like it weighed a ton. I spotted the bench near the wall and dropped down onto it, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees.

Tears slipped out before I could stop them—not from emotion, but from sheer pain. My vision started to blur, the world tilting slightly.

And then—nothing.

When I woke, the first thing I noticed was the faint hum of the air conditioning and the scent of antiseptic. My eyes adjusted slowly. White walls. A narrow bed. The nurse's office.

I turned my head—and froze.

Taehyung was sitting in the chair beside me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The moment my eyes opened, he stood up quickly, moving closer.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice lower than usual, lacking its usual cocky edge.

It took me a second to realize the pain in my stomach was gone. I shifted slightly, and that's when I felt it—the unfamiliar pad in place. My eyes widened instantly.

He noticed. "Relax. The nurse treated you," he said, reading my thoughts like an open book.

I let out a tiny breath of relief. "Oh. Right. Uh... thanks."

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again, searching my face like the answer was hidden somewhere in my expression.

"Yeah," I said, nodding quickly. "I'm fine. Thanks for... whatever this was."

His brow ticked up slightly. "Whatever this was?"

"I mean—thanks for helping. But... what were you even doing at the end of campus?"

"My hockey practice ended," he said with a shrug. "That was the nearest bathroom. Saw you sitting there, looking like you were about to pass out."

I sat up fully, swinging my legs off the bed. "Well. Thanks. But I should... go."

I grabbed my bag, my mind flashing back to Alisha's warnings. Avoid him. Always. That's the safest route.

I walked out the door without looking back—only for his voice to follow me.

"Manners, huh? Just leave without saying goodbye?"

I stopped but didn't turn around. "We shouldn't talk anymore," I said flatly.

Behind me, I heard a low chuckle. "Last night's affecting you that much?"

Heat crawled up my neck. I turned then, glaring at him. "What?"

He stepped closer, the space between us shrinking fast. "I've been thinking about it all night too." His voice dropped lower, his breath warm against my ear. Peppermint. Always peppermint.

The air between us felt thick, almost electric. I swallowed, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

Then he leaned back, his mouth twisting into a smirk. "But... it was a waste of time."

My eyes widened. "Time waste?"

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah. Totally. Waste of time."

"Then we're done," he said simply. "No need to talk."

"Exactly," I shot back.

And then I walked away.

But halfway down the hall, with the nurse's office fading behind me, I realized something was still bothering me.

I just couldn't figure out what scared me more—
The idea that he meant it.
Or the fact that I didn't.