Minho slammed his locker shut, the metal echoing loudly through the hall. His frustration simmered just beneath the surface, and it was all because of one person—Jisung. He stormed down the hallway, his jaw clenched, his thoughts racing. He didn't even know why he was this angry anymore. Every time he thought about the fight on the soccer field, his chest tightened.

Why did it have to be him?

Minho pushed the door to the empty gym open, expecting peace and quiet. But there, sitting on the bleachers with his signature laid-back grin, was Felix.

"Yo, Minho!" Felix called out, waving. "You look like you're about to blow a gasket. What's up?"

Minho groaned, walking over and flopping down next to Felix. He buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he spoke. "It's Jisung. Again."

Felix's grin grew wider, an all-too-knowing look flashing in his eyes. "Of course, it's Jisung. What did he do this time?"

Minho lifted his head, eyes blazing. "He's driving me insane, Felix. I swear, everything about him gets under my skin. The way he talks, the way he smirks when he thinks he's smarter than me... everything."

Felix raised an eyebrow. "And this is new how?"

Minho glared at him. "I'm serious. We got into a huge fight—like, an actual fight. On the soccer field."

Felix blinked, clearly surprised. "Wait, a real fight? You hit him?

"Yeah, we hit each other. It was a mess," Minho muttered, raking a hand through his hair. "And you know what the worst part is? It's not even about the fight. It's about what he said afterward."

Felix's curiosity piqued. He leaned forward. "What'd he say?"

Minho exhaled sharply, his heart pounding again just thinking about it. "He told me I make him feel things he doesn't want to feel. And then he stormed off like I'm the problem."

Felix blinked in surprise, then smirked. "Oh. That's what this is about."

"What?" Minho asked, eyes narrowing.

Felix chuckled, shaking his head. "Dude, it's so obvious. He doesn't just hate you. He's confused. And from the way you're talking, it sounds like you're pretty confused too."

Minho felt his stomach twist. "I'm not confused. I hate him. He's my competition. We're always at each other's throats, and it's exhausting."

"Right," Felix said, dragging out the word with obvious sarcasm. "That's why you can't stop thinking about him. And that's why you got so mad when he said that to you."

Minho clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. "I'm mad because he's making this personal. I don't care about his feelings."

Felix gave him a pointed look. "But you do care. You're sitting here ranting to me about it, aren't you? If you didn't care, you'd have already moved on."

Minho opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He hated that Felix was making sense, that he was picking apart every excuse Minho had been telling himself. He wanted to say that this was just about their rivalry—that it had always been about proving he was better. But deep down, Minho knew it wasn't that simple anymore.

Felix's expression softened as he looked at Minho, seeing the storm of emotions brewing in his friend's eyes. "Minho, it's okay to be confused about this. Jisung is your rival, sure, but he's also... something more, isn't he? I mean, it's not just about winning anymore, is it?"

Minho let out a sharp breath, his fists unclenching. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but Felix had hit the nail on the head. It wasn't just about winning. It hadn't been for a while.

"I don't know what it is," Minho muttered, his voice quieter now. "He makes me angry, and then he says things that make me feel like I'm the one in the wrong. And when he's not around, I can't stop thinking about what he's going to do next."

Felix leaned back, crossing his arms with a knowing grin. "Sounds like someone's got feelings."

Minho shot him a glare, his face heating up. "I don't have feelings for him."

Felix laughed. "Sure, you don't."

"I don't!" Minho insisted, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. "This is just—this is just part of the rivalry. It's always been like this."

Felix's grin softened into something more genuine. "Minho, I've known you for a while now. You've always been competitive, but this with Jisung? It's different. I think you're both scared of whatever's going on between you, so you keep fighting because it's easier than dealing with it."

Minho sat in silence, his mind racing. Could Felix be right? Was he and Jisung's constant fighting just a way to avoid dealing with something deeper? Minho's stomach twisted at the thought.

"I just don't get him," Minho admitted, his voice low. "One minute he's acting like I'm the enemy, and the next he's saying stuff like that. What am I supposed to do with that?

Felix gave him a sympathetic look. "Maybe you don't need to do anything right now. Just let things play out. You and Jisung are both figuring things out. But don't keep pushing him away just because it's confusing. Maybe you need to talk to him—without throwing punches this time."

Minho snorted, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I don't know if we're capable of that."

Felix laughed, nudging him with his shoulder. "You'll figure it out. Just... try not to kill each other in the process, okay?"

Minho let out a sigh, his frustration easing slightly. "Yeah, I'll try."

But even as he said it, his mind was already spinning, wondering what his next encounter with Jisung would bring—and whether he could finally start to understand the tangled mess of feelings he'd been avoiding for so long.

---

To be continued...