The practice room was alive with noise again. Sneakers squeaked against the wooden floor, the beat from the speakers thudded through the mirrors, and sweat clung to every surface.
Taehyung counted off the steps, his voice firm but steady. They had been running the routine for hours, and the weight of exhaustion was starting to show on everyone's faces.
"Again," the choreographer said, clapping once.
Groans broke out across the room. Namjoon threw his head back dramatically. Jimin dropped to the floor in protest, though he still smiled. Seokjin leaned against the mirror, shaking his head.
"Don't die yet," Yoongi muttered from the corner, towel slung around his neck.
Jungkook stood at the far end, chest heaving. His shirt clung to him, sweat dampening his hair. He glanced across the room and caught Taehyung's eyes in the mirror. The look was quick, but it lingered long enough for Jungkook to feel his throat tighten.
"Stop staring, it's distracting," Jimin teased, rolling onto his stomach on the floor. His grin was sharp but playful.
Jungkook's face heated. "I wasn't—"
"You were," Hoseok cut in, grinning as he stretched his legs. "Don't bother denying it."
Taehyung didn't flinch. He bent down to adjust his shoelaces, his voice calm. "Focus on yourself, not on me."
That only made the others laugh harder.
The thing was, nobody acted surprised. Nobody asked questions. Nobody whispered in the corners. The members had seen it unfold piece by piece—the way Jungkook's attention drifted, the way Taehyung's presence grounded him. They didn't treat it as a revelation. It was something known, unspoken, folded into the rhythm of their daily lives.
Namjoon clapped his hands, breaking the moment. "Alright, once more before we rest."
Everyone groaned again but moved into position.
The music kicked back on. Their bodies fell into motion, muscle memory taking over. Jungkook pushed through the burn in his legs, the ache in his lungs. He knew Taehyung was near, steady, sharp in his movements. He didn't need to look to know.
And yet, in one transition, their paths crossed. Jungkook brushed past Taehyung, too close, too aware. His chest tightened at the contact.
"Stay sharp, Jungkook," Taehyung's low voice slipped through the music, a reminder hidden in plain sight.
Jungkook nodded quickly, biting down on the inside of his cheek.
When the song ended, the group collapsed again. Laughter mixed with exhaustion. Seokjin threw a towel at Jungkook's head. "If you two are going to keep sending signals, at least keep the rhythm while doing it."
The others laughed, but it wasn't cruel. It was teasing, light, like brothers pointing out the obvious.
Jungkook ducked his head, embarrassed. Taehyung didn't smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched before he looked away.
The training continued, as it always did. Nothing had changed, not on the surface. Yet under the sweat, under the laughter, under the sharp rhythm of their steps, the unspoken truth pulsed.
The others knew. They had seen it. And they chose to let it live quietly between them, like one more secret folded into the music.