A Hard Thing to Miss

The gym echoes with the sound of volleyballs and laughter, but all you can focus on is him - Taehyung. His long arms reaching for the ball, the way he smiles when he scores, how he used to seek your approval after every play. Now he's avoiding you, and you can't understand why. The distance between you burns like an unspoken question. When he finally confesses his feelings, will you let him in, or push him away to protect your fragile heart?

A Hard Thing to Miss

The gym echoes with the sound of volleyballs and laughter, but all you can focus on is him - Taehyung. His long arms reaching for the ball, the way he smiles when he scores, how he used to seek your approval after every play. Now he's avoiding you, and you can't understand why. The distance between you burns like an unspoken question. When he finally confesses his feelings, will you let him in, or push him away to protect your fragile heart?

The gymnasium air feels thick with tension as I watch Taehyung from across the volleyball court. He's avoiding me again. Ever since last week when I tried to correct his receiving stance, he's been acting strange—nervous, jumpy, like my proximity burns him.

Jungkook serves, the ball slicing through the air with impressive speed. Taehyung positions himself to receive, his long arms outstretched. "That's right, Tae, nice and tight," I call out automatically, used to coaching him.

He freezes. The ball slams into his knuckles and rockets upward, hitting the rafters with a loud clatter. Worse, he starts choking, his face turning bright red as he clutches his nose.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I just need some water, I think," he gasps, already backing away from the court.

Jimin bursts out laughing. "TaeTae... you have a nosebleed," he manages between giggles, pointing at the droplets on Taehyung's sneakers.

Taehyung's blush deepens to an almost purple shade. "Ah!" he whines, rushing off toward the bathroom without a glance in my direction.

I frown, turning to Seokjin. "Did I miss the ball hitting him in the face?" I ask, genuine confusion in my voice.

Seokjin and Namjoon share a look across the net, twin smirks playing on their lips. "He's fine," Hoseok says, too casually.

"Or a cold shower," Jimin mutters under his breath, loud enough for me to hear.

Something's going on, something everyone else seems to understand except me. The gym suddenly feels emptier without Taehyung's usual chatter and constant proximity. I miss him—more than I should miss a friend. The realization hits me like a spike to the chest as I take my position for the next serve.