#v fluff

Tangie note: sub!taehyung agenda below - I LOVE THIS FANFICS SO SO MUCH

🌟TO MY OFFICE, MR.KIM! by @seokbite | pairing: office sex nerdy!taehyung x boss!reader | genre: smut | completed

🌟Like a Reflex by @layover-mp7 | pairing: nerdy salary man sub!tae x dom fem!reader | genre: smut | completed

summary: Taehyung was every mother's dream son-in-law. He worked hard at his high-paying IT job; he woke up early to go to the gym, ate dinner at the exact same time, and went to bed early. You, on the other hand, are not one to settle down; you are young, gorgeous, smart, and independent. He’s disciplined in all areas of his life, except when you’re around. When he runs into you again on a night out with his friends, he knows that he’s about to be a puddle in your hand: you're the only one who can bring out the type of man he really is.

don’t forget to check my masterlist if you liked this one!

So… are your bellies full? Did I feed you well? I hope so 😏

He fumbles with his phone, then holds it up a little too close to her face, the movement awkward and rushed, like he’s trying to anchor himself back to the purpose he walked in with.

But his eyes don’t leave her as she leads him even further into the store. He’s too busy following her voice when he almost bumps into her when she stops. 

“I am…um, so sorry,” he mumbles quickly, his voice lower now, almost embarrassed.

“Please, don’t be,” she says with an easy laugh, turning back to him. “I’d be starstruck in a Chanel store too.”

The joke is light, meant to ease him, and it works, at least enough to let him breathe again. She gestures toward the display in front of them, effortlessly slipping back into her role. 

“So, this, flap bag in patent lambskin with gold-tone metal, dark brown.”

Her fingers hover just above the bag as she speaks, careful, precise. The lighting catches the glossy finish, making it gleam under the soft store lights. He scratches his hair, wondering why she’d pick this.

“My mother doesn’t like a finish like that” Taehyung shares, his fingers rubbing against the glossy finish. “She prefers something with a more soft finish, like a suede or soft leather” Taehyung is more focused on finding the correct bag now, his mother only turns 50 once.

“Okay…where on her hand does she carry her bag?” ___ asks, turning to fully face him. Taehyung pauses, caught off guard by the question. He searches his memory, replaying familiar images, his mother stepping out, adjusting her bag without thinking. Absent-mindedly, he mimics the motion himself, sliding his own bag lower along his arm, letting it rest near his elbow.

“Like this… I think.”

She watches him closely, something like fascination flickering in her eyes, not just at the answer, but at the way he unconsciously mirrors someone he clearly cares about. And then, almost instantly, something clicks.

Her expression brightens, subtle but certain. “I think I have just the thing,” she says, turning and reaching for another display.

She lifts a bag with careful hands, presenting it with quiet confidence. “This one’s suede,” she explains, her fingers grazing the soft texture. “It’s more structured, so it holds its shape… which makes it sit beautifully on the arm.”

The material absorbs the light instead of reflecting it, rich and understated, elegant without trying too hard. And for the first time since he walked in, Taehyung actually smiles, his raised cheekbones indicating so.

“Sir, is this for a special occasion? We could include a card” ___ offers as he stays seated while the bag gets packed. He’s gone back to observing her, she is the same ___ he trained with some 14 years ago.

“Uh…Can it be empty, I want to make my brother and sister write on it” he asks and she smiles widely, this is the best kind of customer on a Tuesday morning. 

“Sure sir.” She disappears again, his eyes on her till she’s gone and again when she appears. It’s the same steady walk. 

“We’ve included multiple cards,” she says, glancing back at him as she leads the way to the billing counter. “In case each of you wants to write her an individual note.” There’s a softness in the way she says it, thoughtful, deliberate.

Taehyung follows quietly, hands slipping into his pockets for a moment before he pulls out his card. The sleek black surface catches the light as he taps it idly against the counter, once… twice… a quiet rhythm while the bill is being processed.

“Is it her birthday?” she asks, making easy conversation as someone behind her prepares the receipt. “Yes,” he replies, a hint of warmth slipping into his voice. “Her fiftieth.” 

His eyes give him away again, bright, almost boyish in a way that doesn’t match the composed figure he’s trying to maintain. She notices.

“Fifty is special,” she says with a small smile, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the bill. “She’s going to remember this one.”

And somehow, the way she says it makes it feel less like a purchase, and more like something that matters.

“Jimin-ah, wait up” Taehyung catches up to a very fast leaving Jimin. “Wait…god why are you running out of here” “I have dinner plans” Jimin offers lightly as they continue to walk towards the elevators.

“Do you remember ___?” Taehyung asks as the elevator doors close behind them, Jimin look at him for a second, trying to place that name to a face till it clicks. “The one that we trained with?” Jimin asks, adjusting his bag.

“Yes, I saw her at the Chanel store a few weeks ago” Taehyung adds and Jimin waits, but Taehyung doesn't elaborate, just stares at the elevator doors like they owe him something. "...And?" Jimin presses.

"She works there. And she didn't recognize me." Jimin is quiet for a beat, then lets out a short breath of a laugh. "Of course she didn't, you had that mask on, you look suspicious when you go out like that." He shifts his bag to his other shoulder, unbothered. "Good for her though, Chanel's not bad."

"That's not-" Taehyung starts, then stops.

Jimin glances at him sideways, something flickering behind his eyes. A slow smile creeps onto his face. "You know," he says lightly, "every single one of us had a thing for her back then." He lets that sit in the air between them for exactly a second too long. "Every. Single. One."

The elevator opens. Jimin walks out first, hands in his pockets, still smiling. “You should have introduced yourself then, she used to be your dance partner after all” he continues as Taehyung trails a step behind him.

“Say what, hey, this is the guy that you turned down when you were 17, nice to see you again?” Taehyung says. This finally makes Jimin stop. He turns slowly, the smile spreading into something more deliberate. "No, no, no," he says, holding up a finger. "You go, remember the guy you turned down at 17? Now I'm a mega successful celebrity." He gestures grandly, like he's presenting a prize.

Taehyung stares at him flatly. "That's embarrassing."

"You getting rejected at 17 is embarrassing," Jimin corrects, already walking again. "Walking into a Chanel store, recognizing her, buying a bag, and then just… leaving without saying a word?" He tilts his head. "That's tragic"

Taehyung says nothing, which is answer enough. Jimin slows just slightly, letting him catch up. "She turned you down and you still remember it fourteen years later," he says, quieter now, the teasing softened just enough. "Maybe go back and buy something else."

"I don't need anything from Chanel." "No," Jimin agrees simply. "But maybe you want to, do you still have a thing for her?” Jimin asks, his curiosity peaking. “No, it was just nice to see her again”

“Oppa why are we not going to the place closer to your office?” his sister asks as he drives around the same mall parking lot. “I get better service here,” Taehyung adds simply.

“You are V of BTS, you get the best service everywhere” Haerin mentions flatly, waiting for her brother to park the car before they can head out. It was very close to closing time when he called, hopefully they can get the bag before he changes his mind.

The mall hums its familiar quiet around them as they walk in, and Taehyung's pace, just barely, quickens. “I’m still not sure so as to why you need a designed bag?” Taehyung asks once again as they walk into the store, his eyes immediately darting for her. 

“For surviving college,” "Four years, oppa. Four years of early mornings and group projects with people who don't pull their weight and professors who act like their class is the only one you're taking." She pauses in front of a display, touching nothing, just looking. "I survived. I deserve a bag."

Taehyung opens his mouth. "A nice one," she adds, before he can. He closes it again.

The store is quieter now, the soft lighting warmer against the near-closing hour. A staff member acknowledges them from a distance with a small nod, the brand's usual choreography of unhurried attention. And then he sees her, moving between displays with that same steady walk, adjusting something on a shelf with careful hands.

Something in his chest settles and tightens at the same time. His sister, who notices everything, notices this too. She follows his eyeline, then looks back at her brother. "So," she says quietly, the word carrying far more than it should. "The service here really is better."

"Hi, you came back." ___ doesn't clock him right away, but something about the dress shoes — same style, same careful polish — pulls at her memory. "How can I help you today?"

"He's buying me a graduation gift," Haerin announces, stepping forward with the easy confidence of someone who has never once in her life been shy. "Something beautiful. Something that says she suffered and she deserves this."

___ laughs, warm and genuine, the kind that can't be practiced. "I think we can work with that." She turns slightly. "Is this your-"

"Sister," Haerin and Taehyung say at the same time. He says it quietly. She says it loudly, with feeling, like she's correcting a public record. "His sister," Haerin repeats, just to be thorough, already drifting toward the nearest display with wide eyes. "Not girlfriend. Never girlfriend. He has terrible taste in-"

"Haerin-ah." "I'm just looking."

___ smiles and follows her, the two of them falling into easy conversation as Haerin lifts bags, holds them at arm's length, tilts her head and declares each one almost before moving to the next. She is bright and loud and fills the quiet store with a warmth it doesn't usually hold at closing time.

Taehyung hangs back, watching. At some point, without quite deciding to, he reaches up and pulls his mask down. ___ is mid-sentence when she turns back toward him to ask something, and then she stops. Just for a fraction of a second, a small, almost imperceptible pause, like a skip in a record. Her eyes move over his face once, carefully. It’s Taehyung.

He looks back at her with complete, practiced calm. Neutral. Polite. The expression of a man who has absolutely no idea what she might be thinking.

"Sorry," she says, recovering smoothly. "I was going to ask if she prefers a longer strap or shorter."

"Longer," Haerin calls from across the store, holding a bag above her head to check the chain. ___ nods and turns back. But in the brief moment before she does, Taehyung catches it,the slight press of her lips together, the quiet recalibration happening behind her eyes.

She knows. And he pretends, very convincingly, that he doesn't know that she knows. The next few minutes have a particular texture to them. ___ moves through her role with the same quiet professionalism as before, pulling options, explaining finishes, asking Haerin the right questions. But there is something different now, a slight carefulness in the way she doesn't look at him directly for too long. 

Haerin, to absolutely no one's surprise, is not. She bounces between displays, draping chain straps over her shoulder, asking ___ with complete sincerity which colour makes her look most like someone who has her life together.

"This one," ___ says, holding up a classic flap in soft ivory without missing a beat. "It's understated enough to be serious, but it's still beautiful. Like you've arrived, but quietly."

Haerin stares at her. "I want you at every important moment of my life." ___ laughs again, and Taehyung watches the sound leave her like it always did, easy, unguarded, the one thing about her that the years haven't changed at all.

He looks away before she can catch him. 

She finally gathers the courage to talk more directly with him at the billing counter, the staff waiting for them to be done so that they can finally close. Haerin is still looking around, just collecting information for the future as Taehyung taps on the counter in the same way.

“I don’t know if you remember, but we used to be trainees together” she shares with a polite smile. Then he tilts his head slightly, like he's searching. Playing it out just a little longer. "Trainees," he repeats, as if turning the word over. And then, with the most natural timing, he lets it land. "Yeah… yes, I remember you, ___ right?"

Not I recognized you the moment you opened your mouth. Not I've thought about this exact conversation for three weeks. Just, I remember you, measured, easy. The careful reveal of a man who has been holding his cards the whole evening and is only now choosing to show one.

___ exhales, and the polite smile softens into something more genuine, the relief of not having imagined it. "I wasn't sure if you would," she admits. "It was a long time ago."

"It was," he agrees. A beat passes between them, quiet and full. "You were good," he says then, simply. "Back then. I remember that."

She looks at him for a moment, something flickering behind her eyes that she doesn't quite name. "So were you," she says. "Clearly." The corner of his mouth moves. Just barely.

“I knew you guys would always make it big” she comments softly, pushing the shopping bag towards him.

 The staff behind her have already noticed.The store sees celebrities often enough, actors, athletes, the occasional idol, but Taehyung has never walked through these doors before tonight. At least not as himself.

He takes the bag, his fingers closing around the handle. "Did you?" he asks, and there's something genuinely curious beneath it, unhurried.

"You guys were always the most committed people in the room," she says, straightening the counter slightly, hands needing something to do. "Some people work hard because they're afraid. You guys worked hard because you actually loved it."

She says it the way someone says something they've never said out loud before but have somehow always known. Taehyung looks at her for a long moment. The bag is in his hand. The store is minutes from closing. There is absolutely no logistical reason for him to still be standing at this counter.

"What about you?" he asks quietly. "I'm afraid I was the first," she says. "Working hard because I was afraid I wasn't good enough." A small pause. "Which, as it turns out, I wasn't." She says it candidly, without self-pity. The way you can only say something like that after you've sat with it long enough.

Taehyung doesn't rush to fill the silence with a contradiction, which is the kindest thing he could do. He doesn't say that's not true the way people reflexively do, turning someone else's honest moment into their own discomfort. He just listens, and lets it be what it is.

"I think," he says finally, carefully, "that not making it and not being good enough are different things."

She looks up at him. "Some things aren't just meant to happen, no matter how much we want them," he continues, his voice dropping a few octaves lower now. "And in the longer picture, maybe it's always for the best."

The softness in his voice is the same one she remembers, she realizes. Underneath everything, the years, the fame, the careful public composure, that part of him hasn't changed at all. She holds it for just a second longer than she means to.

"Well," she says then, straightening, the professional warmth sliding back into place like a coat she knows how to wear. "That's comforting." A genuine smile, smaller and quieter than the ones she's given all evening. "It was really great seeing you again."

"You too," he says. And he means it in a way that is difficult to explain and impossible to miss.

He picks up the bag. He turns to call for Haerin, who materializes immediately from behind a display, which means she has been standing there listening for some time now.

"Go back around, ask her out or something? God you're so bad at this," Haerin says the second they exit the store.

"I am not bad at this," Taehyung states clearly, pulling his mask back into place. "You are." She turns to face him, walking backwards with complete confidence. "If she's an old friend or something, just ask to take her to dinner. It's not complicated. Go."

"Haerin-ah-" She puts both hands flat on his chest and pushes.

He stumbles back two steps, directly into someone, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady and then ___ is there, her own bag caught against her side, her keys in her hand, clearly on her way out. The staff pull the door shut behind her with a soft, definitive click. The lock turns.

They are standing very close. "Hi," she says, slightly breathless from the near collision.

"Hi," he says.She looks at him. He looks at her. Somewhere behind him, Haerin makes absolutely no sound, which is the loudest thing she has ever done.

"I-" he starts. "I was going to ask-" she says at the same time. They both stop.

"Let me buy you dinner," he says, before he can think better of it. "If you're not busy."

She looks at him for a moment that lasts considerably longer than a moment. "I'm not busy," she says.

Haerin, to her credit, excuses herself with remarkable efficiency. "I have dinner plans," she announces, already backing away, her new bag swinging at her side. "You didn't mention any dinner plans," Taehyung says flatly.

"I'm mentioning them now." She gives ___ a smile that carries an entire paragraph of meaning inside it. "It was so nice to meet you." And then she is gone, disappearing into the mall with the satisfied energy of someone who considers this their greatest achievement.

The car is quiet in the way that cars get quiet when two people are still deciding what version of themselves to be with each other. Taehyung drives without music, which feels like a choice. The city moves past the windows in amber and white, the late hour thinning the traffic to something almost gentle.

___ sits with her bag in her lap, hands folded over it. "She's lovely," she says. "She's a menace," he replies, and the fondness in it is so obvious it doesn't need pointing out.

A comfortable silence follows.The kind that is still figuring itself out. "You never said anything," she says eventually, eyes on the window. "The first time you came in."

He keeps his eyes on the road. "No."

"Why?" He considers this honestly, the way he does with questions that deserve it. "I wasn't sure you'd remember me."

She turns to look at him then, and something in her expression is very quiet and very certain. "I remembered you," she says. "You’re not someone that can be easily forgotten"

Taehyung has his mask off completely now, and without it, without the cap, without the careful incognito of the mall, he is simply himself across a table from her.

It takes approximately one drink for his shoulders to drop and when they do, she follows.

The conversation finds its rhythm the way good conversations do, not all at once, but gradually, one thread pulling another until neither of them is quite sure how they got from one topic to the next, only that they don't want to stop.

He tells her about the military service, recently finished, the particular strangeness of returning to a life that had continued without him. "You come back and everything is exactly the same and completely different," he says, turning his glass slowly. "You have to relearn how to be yourself again."

He tells her about LA, the upcoming album, months of work condensed into a timeline that would exhaust most people. His eyes change when he talks about the music, that same quality she described in the store, the person who stays after everyone else has left, who works from love rather than fear. It's still there, just larger now. Grown into itself.

"All seven of you?" she asks. "All seven," he confirms, and the smile that comes with it is uncomplicated and warm, the smile of someone who means it when he says he's grateful.

She rests her chin in her hand, watching him. "You really did love it," she says softly. "Even then." "Didn't you?" he asks, and it's gentle, not a wound, just honest curiosity.

She's quiet for a moment. "I loved parts of it," she says carefully. "The dancing I loved. The rest of it-" she tilts her head slightly. "I think I loved the idea of it more than the reality."

"And now?"

She smiles, the smile of someone who has made peace with a particular version of their life. "There are realities, the bills keep coming no matter how passionate you are. I just decided that if it didn’t happen till I turned 19, it probably never would”

She reaches for her glass. "It wasn't dramatic," she continues, and he can tell this is something she has explained before, to people who expected more grief in it. "No breakdown, no big moment. I just woke up one day and thought, this is taking more than it's giving. And that was that."

"And Chanel?" he asks, genuinely curious. She laughs softly. "An accident, honestly. A friend worked there, they needed someone, I needed something stable." She pauses, considering. "And then I found out I was good at it. Really good at it." 

There's a quiet pride in the way she says it, "Reading people, knowing what they actually want versus what they think they want." She tilts her head slightly. "Not so different from performing, when you think about it. You're still in a room, still reading an audience."

Taehyung is quiet for a moment, something turning over behind his eyes. "You're good at it," The candle flickers between them as she quietly takes the compliment. Names surface like old photographs, faces they haven't thought about in years, some of them familiar enough to find online if they tried. The girl from Busan who could sing but couldn't take direction. The choreographer who smelled strongly of instant noodles at every single morning session without exception. The particular shared misery of a certain vocal coach whose feedback was always technically correct and delivered as though she personally found their existence disappointing.

"She told me my facial expressions were too much," ___ says.

"She told me mine were not enough," Taehyung replies.

"She wasn't wrong about either of us," she concedes.

"No," he agrees. "She was not."

The laughter between them is easy now, the kind that builds on itself, one memory pulling another until the restaurant is nearly empty and neither of them has noticed. The candle has burned considerably lower. 

“We’ll this is me” ___ shares as the driver stops right as instructed. Her steps are a bit unsteady, the flowing drinks are to blame but she gracefully exits the car. The door closes behind him and he's simply there, on her pavement, hands in his pockets, in the quiet of a street that doesn't yet know what to do with Kim Taehyung standing on it at this hour.

"You didn't have to-" she starts. "I know," he says simply. She looks at him for a moment, the streetlight catching the angles of his face, and decides not to argue with that.

They walk the short distance to her building entrance slowly, unhurried, neither of them particularly eager to leave. The night air is cool and she pulls her coat a little tighter without thinking about it.

At the door she stops and turns to face him. "I had a really good time," she says, and means it without complication.

"So did I," he says, and means it. "We should stay in touch," he says then, casual, easy. "If that's alright."

She looks at him for just a moment, reading it the way she reads most things, carefully, practically. People say that. At the end of a good evening, when the wine has been generous and the conversation has been better than expected. It's the polite thing. A graceful way to close a door that was only ever opened by coincidence.

"Of course," she says, and takes his phone when he offers it, typing her number in with steady enough hands. He saves it without looking at what she's typed, slips the phone back into his pocket.

"Goodnight, Taehyung-ah," she says, and there it is again, that name, informal and easy, like something remembered rather than chosen. "Goodnight," he says.

She turns and goes inside, and he waits until the door has closed completely before he walks back to the car.

He looks down at his phone once he's seated. She's saved herself simply, just her name. No punctuation, no emoji, nothing added. He sits with it for a moment in the dark of the backseat. His focus from his phone is stolen by the rain outside, suddenly a loud outpour. Taehyung bites his lip, his best attempt to contain his boxy smile.

He lets the wine take the lead as he types a simple message,

Taehyung: It rained the last time I saw you as well

___ is still reeling from the night, her coat half off her shoulders, shoes barely abandoned by the door, when her phone pings. The speed at which she dives across her bed to retrieve it would embarrass her enormously if anyone witnessed it. No one does. She doesn't care even slightly.

She reads it once. Then again. She sits with that for a moment, her coat still hanging off one shoulder, the city still loud with rain outside her window. He remembered, not just her, he remembered the specific weather of a specific day fourteen years ago.

She could say did it? She could say I don't remember that. She could give him nothing, the way she gave herself nothing on the walk to her door when she decided it was just the polite thing to say, staying in touch, people do that, it doesn't mean anything.

But the rain is loud against her window. And it's past midnight. And she remembers.

___: I remember

She sends it and immediately places the phone face down on the mattress, which lasts approximately four seconds before she flips it back over. 

She lies back against her pillow, phone resting on her stomach, rain filling the silence of her apartment. "Don't," she tells herself quietly, to no one. But she's smiling at her ceiling, and the ceiling, at least, keeps her secrets.

The texts don't stop when he leaves. That's the first thing she notices. She'd expected them to taper naturally, the way things do when real life gets busy. A few days of back and forth, gradually longer gaps, and then the comfortable silence of two people who had a nice evening once and left it there. Clean and uncomplicated.

Instead, her phone lights up at 7am on a Tuesday with a photo. No caption. Just the LA sunrise from what appears to be a very high window, all burnt orange and hazy pink bleeding into each other over a skyline she recognises from films.

She's standing at her coffee machine when she sees it.

___: It's 3am there

Taehyung: I'm aware

___: Why are you awake?

A pause. Long enough that she's poured her coffee and is halfway to her couch before it comes.

Taehyung: Studio ran late. Just got back. Couldn't sleep.

She looks at the sunrise photo again. The light in it is extraordinary, the kind of sky that feels almost unreasonable, too much colour for one morning.

Taehyung: How's your morning?

She looks around her apartment. Small and familiar, grey Seoul morning pressing against the windows, her coffee steaming in her hand, the quiet familiar to early weekdays.

___: Ordinary

Taehyung: Tell me anyway

She tucks her feet beneath her on the couch, coffee warming her palms, and finds herself typing. The coffee shop downstairs that gets her order wrong with such consistency she has started to suspect it's intentional. The woman on the third floor whose small dog has recently developed strong opinions about Tuesdays. The particular quality of Seoul light in the early morning, which is nothing like his photo and somehow still beautiful.

She doesn't realise how much she's written until she's already sent it. His response comes just as she's pulling on her coat for work.

Taehyung: I can picture all of it

This keeps happening. That's the second thing she notices. He texts from the studio at hours that make no sense, time difference rendered irrelevant by what appears to be a complete disregard for sleep. She texts him during her lunch break, sitting in the small staff room, and he responds immediately despite it being somewhere around 4am in LA, which she stops questioning after the first month.

He sends her things without explanation. A song he's listening to on repeat. A restaurant he walked past that reminded him of somewhere he couldn't quite place. A single photo of Jimin asleep on a studio couch with the caption “he did this to himself" makes her laugh loudly enough that a colleague comes to check on her.

She sends him things too, carefully at first, then less so. A photo of the rain against her window one evening with no caption, and she doesn't need one, and he doesn't ask for one.

Taehyung: Two more weeks here

She reads it on her lunch break, weeks after he left.

___: How's the album coming?

Taehyung: Slowly. Then all at once. You know how it goes.

She doesn't, not really, but she thinks she understands the feeling.

The sound of his luggage being wheeled in fills his apartment, the space feeling too big just for himself. He feels like that maybe because he spent the last few months living with his members again, the particular comfort of perpetual noise and company making his own silence feel larger than he left it.

He lets the 4am wash over him as he shuffles around the apartment, checking his fridge for all the food his mother left him. Tupperware stacked with quiet, careful love. He stands in the cold fridge light for a moment, grateful in a way he doesn't have words for.

He flops on the sofa, knowing full well he needs to get some sleep before the busy week hits him all at once. Press, recordings, schedules stacked on schedules. But the apartment is too quiet and his body hasn't caught up with the time zone yet and his mind is doing that thing it does when it's too tired to be sensible.

He picks up his phone.

Taehyung: You wanna listen to a few songs from the album?

He shuts his eyes, letting the tiredness pull at him, when his phone buzzes.

___: of course!

Taehyung: Are you waking up or didn't go to sleep?

___: I'm still out

A picture comes through before he can type. A mirror selfie, bathroom lighting, her in a low cut top, hair loose and a little wild like it's been a long and good night. She's not quite looking at the camera, mid-send, unbothered.

He stares considerably longer than he means to.

___: Went out after work 

Taehyung: Clubbing? I haven’t been clubbing in ages

___: It’s fun, I took like right shots

___: eight, nine now

Taehyung: Which club?

___: why, you coming?

He stares at that for a second.

Taehyung: Maybe

The three dots appear immediately.

___: I got excited for a second, you aren’t in the country :(

___: I gotta go and flirt for a cigarette

He reads it once and sets his phone down on his chest, staring up at the ceiling of his too-quiet apartment. Outside, Seoul is doing what Seoul does at 4am, living quietly and all at once.

He picks the phone back up.

Taehyung: Text me when you reach home

He locks the screen. Closes his eyes. Sleep, when it finally comes, takes its time.

"Can you guys not be so weird, just act normal," Taehyung instructs, pacing the length of the studio for what is probably the seventh time. Jimin and Jungkook occupy the couch with the relaxed energy of two people who have absolutely no intention of acting normal.

"We aren't the weird ones here," Jungkook comments simply, not looking up from his phone. "You're pacing," Jimin adds helpfully.

"I'm thinking." "You're pacing and thinking, which is worse." Taehyung stops, points at Jimin and says nothing. He just starts pacing again.

"I still follow her from my private instagram," Jungkook mentions, with the casualness of someone dropping a very small grenade into a very quiet room. "She posts nice stuff-"

"What, where?" Taehyung's hand is already extended, and Jungkook's phone is already gone before he's finished the sentence.

"Yah—" But Taehyung has already found it, scrolling with a focused expression that he would deny in a court of law. Jimin leans over, trying to see. Taehyung angles the phone away from him specifically.

"She's pretty," Jimin observes anyway, from memory, smiling at the ceiling. "She's always been pretty," Jungkook agrees. Taehyung puts the phone down. Face down on the table with finality.

"Normal," he repeats, pointing at both of them. "When she comes in. Normal human behavior. From both-" His manager appears first, then a beat behind her, ___. She's in something comfortable, clearly came from work or somewhere close to it, her bag on one shoulder, taking in the room with the same quiet, reading-people expression he remembers from the store. 

Her eyes find Jimin first, then Jungkook, and then Taehyung, and she smiles, warm and genuine and slightly disbelieving at the situation she's found herself in. "Hi," she says to the room.

"Hi," Jimin says, standing immediately, the perfect picture of normal human behavior. Jungkook waves from the couch, also normal.

Taehyung, who has been pacing for twenty minutes and confiscated a phone and threatened physical removal not thirty seconds ago, leans against the desk with his arms crossed and says, with complete composure, "You found it okay?"

"I did," she says. "Good," he says. Jimin, behind him, presses his lips together very firmly.

"You don't have to be careful about my reaction," she says, looking between the three of them. "I'm not a critic, just a huge fan"

"He's nervous," Jimin says, gesturing at Taehyung. "I'm not nervous." ___ looks at Taehyung as she tries very hard to not smile. He looks briefly at the ceiling and nods at Jungkook to play.

They go through the tracks one by one, sometimes twice when she asks, which she does more than once. She doesn't perform her reactions, doesn't rush to fill the silence at the end of each song with praise. She just sits with it, and says something when she has something to say, and the members find themselves leaning toward her responses without realizing it.

Somewhere around the fourth track Jungkook's phone buzzes. He glances at it, then stands, stretching with the exaggerated ease of someone making a departure look casual. "I have to—" he gestures vaguely toward the door.

"Mm," Taehyung says. Jungkook pauses at the door long enough to catch Jimin's eye. A look passes between them, the entire conversation happening in under a second. Then he's gone.

Jimin lasts another two tracks. To his credit he makes it through a full song before his own phone becomes suddenly and urgently important. "I told Hobi-hyung I'd-" he's already standing, already moving. He stops at the door. Turns back. Points at the speaker. "The third one," he says to ___. "That's the one. Remember that one."

"I will," she says warmly. Jimin leaves, the door clicks softly behind him. And then it's just the two of them, and the music, and the low studio lighting that Jungkook had dimmed at some point and nobody had thought to change back.

Taehyung plays the remaining tracks without commentary, sitting on his end of the sofa, one leg folded beneath him. She's on the other end, her own legs tucked up, head resting against the back cushion, turned slightly toward the speaker.

By the second to last track her eyes are heavier than she means them to be. The couch is comfortable. The music is warm. It's been a long day and the studio has the particular hush of a room that exists outside of regular hours. Her eyes close. Open. Close again.

Taehyung notices. He doesn't say anything. He just reaches over quietly and turns the volume down by two, barely enough to register, just enough to be gentle. He lets her drift, her head bobbing from one side to another, the movement causes him to move closer, close enough for her head to rest against his shoulder. 

Taehyung’s eyes are focused, too focused as he looks at her with this kind of closeness, he could count her number of eyelashes if he tried. He notices the way she's grown into her features, the softness of her trainee years having given way to something more defined. The chubbiness in her cheeks is gone, replaced by high cheekbones that catch the low studio light cleanly. 

Her features are a little pointed but smooth, the kind of face that sharpens with time rather than hardens. Like a swan, he thinks, and then feels slightly embarrassed by the thought, which doesn't stop him from thinking it.

The last track ends and the room settles into a quiet that's only the ambient hum of equipment.

She stirs, her eyes flutter once, twice, and then open properly, and for a moment she simply exists in that soft in-between place before full consciousness reasserts itself. Then it does, and she sits up slightly, and the embarrassment arrives right behind it.

"I'm so sorry," she says immediately, pressing a hand briefly to her face. "That is…genuinely not a reflection of the music, the album is wonderful, I just-" she pauses, exhales. "It's been a long day."

"I know," he says simply. His eyes drifting between the wall and her, he can’t look at her for a second too long.

She looks at him, and she wants to be honest, "I was at the hospital this morning," she says, quieter now.

"Are you sick?" The question comes immediately, and so does his hand, reaching over without thinking, pressing lightly against her forehead to check her temperature. The impromptu touch freezes her for a second, the warmth of his palm against her skin, casual and careful at the same time.

He seems to realise what he's done approximately one beat after doing it. His hand drops.

"No," she says, once she remembers what they were talking about. "Not me. My mother." The air in the room shifts slightly.

"She was recently diagnosed with MS," she continues, her voice finding its steadiness again. "They caught it at a stage where there are still options, which is… good, they keep telling us it's good." A small breath. "They're trying her on a new trial treatment. So there's a lot of hospital visits, a lot of waiting, a lot of information coming at once that we're all trying to absorb and then go home and act normal afterward."

"Which is why I fell asleep on your couch. In your studio. To your unreleased album. Just because I’m tired not because it isn’t good, because it is"

The corner of his mouth moves. "There are worse ways to hear it for the first time."

She laughs softly, and it's tiring than her other laughs but more real somehow, the kind that comes out when the guard is fully down. "I really am sorry." "Stop apologising," he says, and it's gentle but certain.

She looks at him for a moment. Then nods, once, accepting it.

Taehyung looks at her for a moment in the low studio light, this person he had known who lives a completely different life now, and feels something settle in him that he doesn't examine too closely.

"Are you hungry?" he asks. She blinks. "What?"

"You've been at the hospital, then here. Have you eaten?" She opens her mouth. Closes it, thinks about it genuinely. "Not really."

He stands. "Come on." "You don't have to-"

"I know," he says simply, already moving toward the door. He glances back at her with an expression that is patient and completely immovable. "Come on."

She looks at him for one more second. Then she unfolds herself from the couch, finds her shoes, and follows.

“I’m still in the middle of packing to move,” Taehyung shares as he pushes open the door to his apartment, the long doorway leading them to a massive, beautifully decorated living room. Taehyung suggested having a takeaway dinner at his apartment rather than a restaurant, she clearly doesn’t have the energy to go out.

“Come on, this is more clean and organized than my apartment after I spend a day cleaning it” ___ comments as she places the bag of take out on the dining table, “Well I have a cleaning lady so it’s not fair to you” Taehyung notes as he disappears for a minute too long. 

She stands by the dining table, the takeout bags in her hand, not quite sure what to do with her hands. She doesn't want to sit without being told to, doesn't want to wander without being invited, the particular awkwardness of being in someone's private space for the first time, even someone you know, especially someone you're still in the process of knowing again.

She looks at the art on the walls instead. It's good. The kind of good that means something to the person who chose it.

"What would you like? Wine or beer?" Taehyung calls from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

She follows his voice, which leads her through the living room and into the kitchen, and she stops in the doorway. It's a good kitchen. He's standing in front of an open wine fridge with the focused expression of someone taking the question seriously, which she appreciates.

"Beer," she says. Then immediately, "No, wait." She looks at the takeout bags she's still carrying. "What pairs better with sushi?"

He looks at her over his shoulder. Then at the bags, then back at the wine fridge. "White wine," he says, with the quiet certainty of someone who has thought about food pairings more than the average person.

"Then white wine," she agrees, setting the bags on the kitchen counter and beginning to take the containers out, which feels like a natural thing to do, and then she's doing it before she's decided to.

He pulls out a bottle, checks the label briefly, sets it on the counter beside her. Reaches past her for the opener in a drawer he knows without looking, close enough that she catches the scent of whatever he's wearing, something warm and understated.

"You can sit," he says, nodding toward the kitchen island. "You don't have to unpack all of that." "I'm already doing it," she says. He looks at the neat row of containers she's already organized and says nothing, just reaches into a cabinet for glasses.

"Do you always do that?" he asks. "Do what?"

"Make yourself useful when you're uncomfortable." She pauses with a container in her hand, looks at him. He's pouring the wine with his back half turned, not pressing it, just asking.

"Yes," she says after a moment. "Probably." 

"No, the latest season wasn't any good, it's like they know people are waiting so they'll put out any kind of crap," ___ comments, gesturing with her chopsticks for emphasis.

"The third season was perfect," Taehyung agrees, with the conviction of someone who has opinions about this and isn't embarrassed by that. "They should have stopped there."

She laughs, and they move on the way their conversations do, one thread pulling naturally into the next, nothing and everything, the wine making the edges of the evening soft and unhurried.

He tells her about the tour. Next year, multiple countries, the kind of scale that sounds abstract until he starts describing the specifics. the production, the setlist debates that have been ongoing for months, the particular chaos of moving that many people across that many time zones with that many moving parts.

"But sleeping in a different hotel room every week is exhausting," he says, turning his glass slowly. "You stop knowing what city you're in before you open the curtains. Sometimes after." A pause. "The rooms all smell the same."

"That sounds incredibly lonely," she says, honestly.

He looks at her. "It can be," he says, just as honestly. "But then you get on stage, and" he stops, and something shifts in his expression, the particular animation of a person arriving at the thing they actually want to talk about. There's a glint in his eyes that she recognises, the same one from the store when he talked about his mother, but bigger. Brighter. "We get to perform," he says. "Which is always worth it."

She watches him say it, the way it moves through him when he does, uncomplicated and total, and she thinks about what she said to him that first night at dinner. You worked hard because you actually loved it. She was right then. 

"What does it feel like?" she asks. "On stage. In front of that many people."

He considers it genuinely, the way he does with questions that deserve it. "Like the only place where everything makes complete sense," he says finally. "Like the volume of the world goes up and down at the same time." He pauses. "Like being entirely seen and entirely free, simultaneously."

The kitchen is quiet for a moment.

They move to the living room once dinner is done, the takeout containers cleared away with the easy shared efficiency of people who have stopped thinking about whose kitchen it is. The wine glasses migrate to the coffee table. 

"What are we watching?" she asks, her voice already carrying that particular softness of someone fighting a losing battle with sleep.

"I'm not sure yet," Taehyung admits, still scrolling. "What do you want?" "Something I've already seen," she says.

She knows it's late. She is aware, in the rational part of her that's still functioning, that it is well past midnight and that staying any longer tips the evening from something that can be explained simply into something that requires more thought. She doesn't move.

Taehyung settles on the other end of the sofa, not close, not far, and the opening credits of something roll quietly across the screen. She doesn't catch the title. It doesn't matter.

The blanket is warm. That's the first problem. The movie's score is gentle, something understated in a minor key, and the low lighting from the single lamp in the corner does the rest. Her eyes go heavy. She is aware of this. She makes a reasonable internal note to sit up straighter.

Taehyung notices the exact moment it happens. The slight change in her breathing, the way her hand loosens around the stem of her wine glass. He reaches over carefully, takes the glass from her fingers before it can tip, and sets it on the coffee table without a sound.

He looks at her for a moment. He reaches for the blanket that has slipped slightly off her shoulder and pulls it back up. Gently, without waking her. Then he turns back to the movie, volume barely audible now, and stays.

It's the early grey light that wakes her. She sits up slowly, the unfamiliar ceiling registering before anything else, and then everything registers at once. She sits up carefully.

Taehyung is asleep at the other end of the sofa, head dropped back against the cushion, one arm along the back, legs stretched out in a way that cannot be good for his spine. The television has gone to a quiet screensaver. 

She looks at him for a moment in the grey light. Then at the time. 6:08am. She should go, quietly, before it becomes a conversation. But she looks at the angle of his neck against the cushion and winces slightly on his behalf.

"Taehyung-ah," she says quietly. Nothing. "Taehyung-ah." A little firmer. He inhales slowly, head shifting, not quite awake.

She reaches over and touches his shoulder once, brief and light. "Hey." His eyes open. Unfocused at first, then finding her, and for just a moment, in the unguarded space between sleep and waking, he smiles. Small and unthinking, the smile of someone whose first conscious sight is something they don't mind at all.

Then awareness catches up and he straightens, clearing his throat. "What time is it?" "Just past six," she says, already pulling the blanket off her lap, reaching for her shoes. "Your neck is going to hate you. Go sleep in your bed."

He rubs a hand over his face. "You don't have to leave."

"I have work," she says, finding her bag on the chair. The lie arrives smoothly, practiced in the two minutes she spent deciding it before waking him. She doesn't have work. He lets it be what it is. "I'll drop you."

"You don't have to, the subway will get me home just fine." "___-ah"

"It's six in the morning, I'm not having you drive across the city." She pulls her coat on, finds her keys in her bag. The performance of someone with somewhere to be. "Go to bed, properly"

He looks at her from the sofa, sleep-rumpled and unhurried, making no move to argue further,  "Text me when you're home," he says.

"I will," she says. And because she will, it's not a lie.

She lets herself out quietly, and the door clicks softly behind her, and she stands in the hallway for just a second before she moves toward the elevator.

In the apartment, Taehyung stays exactly where he is for a moment. Then he reaches over and pulls the blanket she was using toward him, not thinking about it, and closes his eyes.

"Hyung you have to come, how often do I throw a party?" Taehyung grumbles over the phone, pacing the length of his half-packed living room. Boxes line the walls, art has been taken down leaving clean squares on the paint where they hung, the apartment already halfway between what it was and what it's becoming.

He hears a long sigh from the other side. "Ahhh why Thursday though," Hyunsik complains, the sound of him already opening something in the background. A calendar app, probably. "I'll have schedule in the morning."

"So do I," Taehyung says. "Then why-" "Because that's the only day she's free." He says it like it's the most reasonable thing in the world. "And it was her idea, sort of, and it sounds nice. A house cooling party. A proper way to say goodbye to the place before I move, a celebration-"

"Taehyung-ah." Hyunsik's voice is warm and full of teasing. "You're doing a lot to impress a girl."

Taehyung stops pacing. "I'm not… it's not about impressing anyone, it's a house cooling party, people have those"

"People who are trying to impress someone have those." "Hyung" "Who else is coming?" A pause. "A few people. Mutual friends." "Which members?" A longer pause. "We have stuff scheduled next morning"

"Taehyung-ah." The warmth in Hyunsik's voice edges into something that is dangerously close to fond. "You're throwing a party on a Thursday, with schedule the next morning, that none of your members can attend, because she's only free on Thursday and it was sort of her idea." A beat. "And you're telling me this isn't about impressing her."

Taehyung looks at the half-packed boxes. The clean squares on the wall where the art used to be. The apartment that is already halfway gone. "Are you coming or not," he says flatly.

Hyunsik laughs, long and genuine. "I'll be there at eight. Should I bring anything?" "Food, possibly the kind that works well for a party"

"And maybe a camera, to document whatever this evening becomes." "Goodnight Hyungggg"

He hangs up and stands in his quiet half-packed living room for a moment. Then he picks his phone back up.

Taehyung: Thursday still works for you?

Her response comes quickly.

___: Yes! Should I bring anything?

He looks around the apartment. At the boxes. At the walls. He probably shouldn’t have had all the art work removed before the party.

Taehyung: Just yourself

He sends it and puts the phone in his pocket before he can watch himself wait for her response.

“I can’t believe that you’re making me prepare for a party that I can’t even attend” Haerin complains as Taehyung explains, it’s strange that everyone’s first response to the party is to complain. 

“Because you tell embarrassing stories about me, I don’t need that. What I do need you is to pick up everything that I might need, what stuff do people need for a party? Liquor, food?”

“You’ll need disposable glasses, no real food, more snacks, stuff people can eat just with their hands, tissues, lots of them, lemons and other mixers for drinks, and some dessert, cupcakes or brownies, and flowers for the house” Haerin raps off and Taehyung wouldn’t admit but he’s a little impressed.

“Flowers for the house” “Oppa it’s a house cooling party, have you not been to any of those?” Haerin asks, “I heard about them for the first time a week ago” Taehyung confesses as he parks his car. “How do you know all of this?" Taehyung continues as he places his phone between his shoulder and ear.

"I have friends, oppa. Normal friends who do normal things like have house cooling parties." A pause. "Unlike you, who apparently lives in a cave and only recently discovered the concept” Haerin is getting ready to leave as well, it’s going to take multiple trips to get all the supplies.

“Since, I’m the one buying and paying for everything, I am coming to the party” she adds and Taehyung groans, wondering if it’s too late to cancel the party. “I pay your credit card bill, I’m the one paying for this-” “I’ll see you tomorrow oppa!”

By nine thirty the apartment is already louder than he planned.

He's not sure exactly how this happened. Hyunsik arrived at eight as promised, then brought two people Taehyung didn't invite but knows well enough. Then someone called someone, and that someone apparently told someone else, and now it is ten o'clock and his half-packed apartment is full in a way he did not entirely anticipate.

He's not complaining. The energy is good, the kind that builds on its own without needing to be managed, conversation layering over music layering over laughter, the apartment feeling generous with it all despite the boxes along the walls.

He tops up a few drinks without being asked. He laughs at something someone says across the room and crosses to join that conversation without it feeling like an interruption. He takes a photo with two people who ask, easy and unbothered, and then pivots back into the evening without missing a beat.m.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks it without breaking the conversation.

___: I'm so sorry, I'm outside, the elevator isn't working, which floor was it again?

He's off the counter before he's finished reading it. "Excuse me," he says to no one in particular, already moving through the living room toward the front door with the unhurried ease of someone who simply has somewhere to be.

Taehyung fixes his hair one last time before the elevator opens, he should have played it cool and just waited inside but he’s a few drinks in and doesn’t care about being nonchalant at all. The ting of the elevator sobers him a bit, the doors open slower than usual, or at least he thinks so.

“Oh…Hi!” ___ looks up at a well dressed Taehyung, his shirt barely buttoned and his hair styled for the evening. “Hi, didn’t want you to get lost, you got flowers?” he asks, neither of them has moved, which causes the elevator to close before she can answer.

“Come on, before this closes again” Taehyung chuckles as the door opens again, this time she does move quickly, her dress swaying as she does. “For the house and wine, in case you were running low on liquor” she adds as he walks beside her, she almost takes a wrong turn, that’s when he redirects her with his hand.

“I don’t think I’m going to run low on alcohol for the rest of my life” Taehyung notes as he leads her down the corridor, his hand firmly placed on the small of her back. 

"Just a heads up," he says, reluctantly moving his hand as he steps forward to open the door. "There are a bit more people than I anticipated."

"Fun," she says, moving closer to be heard over the noise bleeding through the door, her voice low and warm near his ear. "It sounds really loud." Her breath brushes against him lightly as she says it, close enough that he goes very still for just a fraction of a second.

He holds her gaze for one more second. Then he pushes the door open, and the warmth and noise of the party rushes out to meet them both, and he steps aside to let her in first, his hand finding the small of her back again without any negotiation whatsoever.

"Come one, give a toast Taehyung, say a proper goodbye to the house!” Hyushik yells across the room, grabbing everyone’s attention. Taehyung vehemently nods a no as he downs the rest of his drink.

"Toast! Toast! Toast!"

It starts with Hyunsik but it doesn't stay with Hyunsik. The room picks it up, not everyone, but enough, the playful rhythm of it filling the apartment, and Taehyung looks around at the faces. His eyes find ___ across the room without meaning to.

“Alright, alright, I will, there’s no mics around, so listen carefully” Taehyung speaks to the group as me moves more towards the center, trying to make sure everyone can hear him, making sure ___ can hear him.

“I moved into this place, god, three years ago? It’s seen me through a shitty break up and military enlistment. On some days, coming back home was all I could think about” He pauses. The room gives him a pause.

"It's strange, packing it up," he continues, quieter now, the toast becoming something slightly less like a toast and slightly more like the truth. "You don't realize how much a place holds until you start putting it in boxes." His eyes move across the room, seeing faces he knows well and some he barely knows and landing, briefly, on her. "People change in spaces. I changed in this one. I think for the better, mostly." The corner of his mouth moves. "Ask me again in a year."

"So, to the apartment I bought to live with my ex girlfriend-" The room reacts immediately. Someone cackles. Someone else chokes on their drink. A collective noise of delighted disbelief laughter through the gathering, the kind of reaction that has its own momentum.

Taehyung laughs too, because what else is there to do, shaking his head slightly at himself. "-who I broke up with before I could ask her to move in," he finishes, which makes it worse, which makes everyone louder.

"Cheers!" someone calls from the back, drinks are immediately clicked and downed again. Taehyung moves swiftly, making his way back to ___ who had been entertaining a few people even he didn’t remember at this point. 

He arrives at her shoulder. "Come on," he says, close enough that it's just for her, his hand finding the familiar space at the small of her back. "I want you to meet someone."

She turns to the group with a warm smile. "Excuse me," she says, easy and unhurried, and lets him guide her away. "Who?" she asks, as they move through the apartment.

"Old friends," he says. "You'll like him."

“Oh my god, I am a big fan” ___ fangirls out loud as she barely shakes Hyushik’s hand, who in turn is very pleased by the turn of events. “So am I, suggesting a house cooling party, exactly the kind of thing Taehyung needed” Hyushik teases a Taehyung who stands behind her as he rolls his eyes. 

“___-si, you are the reason I get to attend a legendary Kim Taehyung party, I am a bigger fan I think” Hyushik continues, they’re still weirdly shaking their hands, Hyushik now holding her hand with both his hand to express his amount of gratitude. 

“I suggested? I thought I reminded you?” ___ asks, turning slightly to talk to the host. "Suggest, remind," Taehyung says, with the easy confidence of someone building an argument on a very weak foundation. "It's all the same."

"It's really not," she says. "Semantics." "That's not what semantics means."

Hyunsik is watching this exchange with undisguised joy, still holding her hand, which at this point everyone has simply accepted as the situation. “Did you eat something ___-si?” “You can just call me ___” she responds almost immediately, Hyushik finally releases her hand as he removes his phone.

“___ how about you give me your number so that we can plan the house warming party for the new-” "Hyung." Taehyung's voice is pleasant. Perfectly pleasant. "Didn't you say you had to leave by eleven?"

Hyunsik looks up from his phone. "Did I?" "You did. Very specifically. Eleven o'clock." Taehyung glances at his watch. "Look at that."

Hyunsik looks at his own watch with the slow deliberation of a man who is enjoying every second of this. "So it is," he says. He pockets his phone without any apparent urgency whatsoever. "___, it has been an absolute-"

"You said early schedule," Taehyung continues,"Very early. Didn't want to be tired." "I did say that," Hyunsik agrees, nodding thoughtfully. "Very responsible of me." He turns to ___ with the full warmth of his considerable screen presence. "It was so lovely to meet you."

"You too," she says genuinely, and then, because she has clearly picked up on exactly what just happened and finds it extremely funny.

“Yes, of course, we should plan dinner” Taehyung’s voice booms in the entryway, the party cleared out by 1 am, it’s a working day tomorrow for most people and people that are lying about it. “Byeeee” Taehyung waves gladly, he is kinda glad that he threw this party, he needs to celebrate more often in life.

He sighs with a bit of exhaustion as he runs a hand through his hair, he walks right in the living room, hoping to find her there. When she isn’t, he walks to the kitchen to hope to find here there. But when she isn’t even in the kitchen he finally calls out her name, “___?”

“I’m in here!” she yells from the service kitchen, where she seems to be packing up all the leftover mixers. Taehyung finds her arranging all the empty bottles, capping all the bottles and putting away all the lemons, so so many lemons. “Why are there so many lemons?” she asks as she turns around. 

What she wasn’t expecting was a quiet Taehyung who’s leaning against the doorframe as he looks at her, with intensity that makes her want to look away. “Haerin thought it would be funny” Taehyung’s voice is low, his eyes a bit dazed and hooded but still on her.

“Come on,” Taehyung says as he brings forward his hands, “You don’t need to do all this and we need to go somewhere” she looks at him with scepticism but takes his hands away, watching him walk her out awkwardly till she stops for her jacket and purse.

“We’ll come back, just trust me” he says, his hand finding hers again with the easy certainty of someone who has stopped negotiating with his instincts. "Just trust me."

She looks at their hands. Then at him. "Okay," she says quietly and she follows him out into the night.

Taehyung is a few steps behind her, watching him from a distance as she takes it all in. A short taxi ride later and they’re staring at the Han river from his new apartment, new even bigger and more gorgeous apartment. 

Floor to ceiling windows. All of them. The Han River filling the entire view like it was placed there specifically, the water dark and wide and catching the city lights in long broken lines, Seoul spread out on either side of it in every direction.

She doesn't say anything for a moment. Then she straightens, clears her throat, and turns around to face the empty living room with the expression of someone making a very important assessment.

"So," she says, clasping her hands in front of her. "This is the main living area." Taehyung blinks. "What."

"Generous square footage," she continues, taking slow, deliberate steps across the empty floor, looking up at the ceiling, nodding thoughtfully. "Good ceiling height. Natural light should be excellent in the mornings." She turns. "A duplex?” 

“Yes it’s a duplex ma’am, the apartment is broken down into a north and south wing” Taehyung answers as he plays along. “I like that, I can start my morning in the north wing and end the day in the south one, which wing is the primary bedroom in?” ___ asks with all seriousness and Taehyung can’t help but chuckle.

“The south wing” Taehyung answers as his eyes follow her walking towards the wrong side, “This way ma’am” he redirects her and she chuckles like she knew what she was doing. 

He steps ahead of her, pushing open the door to the primary bedroom, then steps back in the manner of someone who has done this many times and knows to let the room speak for itself. "This," he says, "is where the magic happens."

She walks past him into the room. He is not prepared for how much of her back is visible in this dress. He has spent the entire evening with her in this dress and somehow this particular angle, in this particular doorway, in this particular light is too much. He looks at the ceiling briefly. Then back.

"Where the magic happens," she repeats slowly, tilting her head. "As in-" she turns, her expression completely straight- "where you find out that your husband is committing financial fraud and cheating on you with multiple women."

Taehyung stares at her. "In the primary bedroom," she continues, gesturing around the empty space with great seriousness. "Classic setting for that kind of revelation. The proportions are right. Good acoustics for the confrontation." She nods. "I've seen it many times in this price range" 

“Husband? I thought it was just you ma’am” he continues the joke as he reaches over by the door to turn on a few lights, maybe the lights will sober him up a bit. “Of course, only a husband committing financial fraud can buy this kind of place, or if you’re a super successful pop star. Those are the only two categories can can afford this ridiculous view”

"Ridiculous," he repeats. "Obscene," she confirms.

"Oh thank god because I was almost a bit worried about financial fraud" he says, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking at her with the particular attention of someone who has had enough drinks to stop pretending they're not paying attention.

She looks at him for a moment, the lights catching her face, and tilts her head slightly. "Well," she says, "I haven't checked your finances." "Clean," he says. "That's exactly what someone committing financial fraud would say."

He laughs, and she smiles at the sound of it, the real estate bit dissolving at the edges into something warmer.

"So," she says, looking around the lit room now, seeing it properly for the first time. The ceiling height. The window. The way the river sits just beyond the glass, dark and wide and patient. "This is really going to be your bedroom."

"In a few weeks, yes." She's quiet for a moment, something settling in her expression. "It's a good room," she says simply. No performance in it. Just the honest observation of someone who reads spaces the way she reads people.

She nods slowly. And then, quietly,"I think you're going to be very happy here, Taehyung-ah."

He looks at her rather than the window when she says it. "I think so too," he says.

"What is the new guy's deal?" Arin asks, leaning toward the mirror with a mascara wand, her eyes not leaving her own reflection but her attention entirely elsewhere. "Are you guys dating? Is he your boyfriend? Or is it just sex?"

___ turns around, a bit flustered, her fingers working at the ties of her halter neck. "None of the above," she says. "We're just friends." Arin says nothing, she goes back to applying her mascara with great concentration.

"We are," ___ adds. "I didn't say anything," Arin says.

"You made a face." "I'm doing my mascara."

"Arin-ah." Arin caps the mascara and turns to look at her fully, with the particular expression of a person who has known someone long enough to have earned the right to be direct. "You came home at four in the morning," she says pleasantly. "From a party that ended at one."

"We went to see his new apartment." "At two in the morning." "It has a Han River view." "I'm sure it does." Arin turns back to the mirror, reaching for her lip liner. "And how long did you look at this Han River view?"

___ opens her mouth. "Together," Arin adds. "At two in the morning. Just the two of you. Just friends."

The halter neck ties are taking considerably longer than usual. "It wasn't like that," ___ says. "It was just-" she pauses, trying to find the word. "Easy. It was easy to be there with him."

Arin looks at her in the mirror. "Mm." "That's not… that doesn't mean anything, things can just be easy-"

"When was the last time something was easy with someone?" The question lands and sits there. ___ looks at her own reflection for a moment, her hands stilling on the ties.

She doesn't answer, which is an answer. "Just friends," Arin says sarcastically, turning back to her own reflection. "Okay."

"Okay," ___ agrees, with slightly less conviction than she started with. They finish getting ready in the comfortable quiet of two people who have said what needed to be said and are now moving on gracefully, and ___ does not think about the river or the empty room or the way he said I think so too while looking at her instead of the window. Not very much, anyway.

“Well, it’s Paris fashion week, there’s not much I can do” “You were seated next to Anna Wintour that’s not nothing” ___ squeals over the phone as she steps out for a smoke. She works at the club as a server some weekends, just to make some extra cash, not that people need to know about this job.

Taehyung is quiet for a second, taking in all the sounds from her side, the sound of her taking a drag, the people around her, the loud music that thumps quieter and quieter. “Have you been keeping tabs on me” he teases as he rumples the bed even further.

“It isn’t very hard,” she says, smoke letting out of her mouth as she leans back against the cool brick wall. “You’re all over my reels.” He huffs out something that almost resembles a laugh, but there’s a flicker of something else in it, something quieter, harder to name.

“Don’t get too excited,” she says lightly. “There’s still a lot of cat videos too”

“Cute” “Mm,” she hums, a bit distracted from how tired she is. “Keeps you humble.”

There’s a small silence that follows, but it isn’t empty. It settles between them easily, like something familiar finding its place without needing to be asked. He turns his head slightly on the pillow, staring at nothing in particular, and then asks,

“What are you doing right now?” he asks. He’s tempted to ask where are you? Who are you out with? Why is it so loud but he goes forward with the simpler option, an option that a friend can ask.

“Just out,” she says, after a second. “Sort of.”

He catches it immediately, the slight deflection, the way her answers sometimes come angled instead of straight. “Sort of?” he repeats.

She glances back at the club door, the bass vibrating faintly through it, the life she hasn’t explained waiting just on the other side. “Just… helping out a friend,” she says, easy enough to pass. “Weekend thing.”

Another drag. Another pause. “And you?” she adds, shifting the attention back to him like she always does when things get a little too close. “Lying in bed after being important next to Anna Wintour?”

He smiles this time, properly. “Something like that.” His voice dips, quieter, more honest than the answer itself. “I think I liked hearing you be more impressed than the actual event.”

She blinks, caught off guard by that. The cigarette burns a little lower between her fingers.

“I got you something, well it’s more for the house” are the first words out of ___’s mouth the second the elevator opens directly in the apartment. She excitedly kicks off her shoes as he jumps over to him. 

“I tried to make something, failed and tried again, failed, but the third time around, they suggested that I just buy the mugs” she continues the explanation as she falls into the sofa beside him, he’s not said a thing yet, mostly because he’s too busy taking in her excitement. 

There’s something about her like this that catches him off guard every time. The way she fills a space without trying. The way her presence shifts the air, makes the apartment feel less like something staged and more like something lived in.

He leans back slightly, one arm draped along the back of the sofa behind her, his gaze still fixed, quieter than hers but just as present. “You made something,” he repeats finally, slow, like he’s piecing it together rather than questioning it. “Or… attempted to.”

She turns her head toward him, narrowing her eyes just slightly. “That’s the part you focused on?” “It’s impressive,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You trying three times.”

Taehyung quietly unwraps the gift, two mugs placed inside, the kind of earthy tone mugs that people drink their artisanal coffee out of. “These don’t look hand made” he comments as he picks them out of the box, his long fingers running over them as he flips it over, to find his house number engraved to them.

“Because these are the bought ones,” she says quickly, watching his face a little too closely. “The messed up ones will be used by me to drink water out of, well, one of them.” A small shrug. “The other one is leaking.”

He lets out a quiet breath that almost turns into a laugh, still looking at the engraving like he didn’t expect it to matter as much as it does. “You kept them,” he says.

“Obviously,” she replies, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I suffered for those. I’m not throwing them away.” He hums softly at that, placing the mug down with a little more care than necessary, like it’s already found a place here.

There’s a brief pause before she shifts, tucking one leg beneath her as she looks around the apartment again, this space that’s still more ideal than lived-in reality. “Is this your first night here?” she asks.

He leans back into the sofa, one arm stretching along the backrest, his gaze flicking from the mugs to her. “Yeah,” he says simply. First night, empty house, boxes still somewhere in the corners. No real imprint of a life yet.

And then without much thinking, he asks “Stay for dinner” It comes out easy, natural, like it didn’t take any thought at all. But there’s something in the way he looks at her after, steady, waiting that gives it away.

She hesitates just for a second. “I can’t,” she says, softer now, the refusal gentle but firm. “I have dinner plans.” His expression doesn’t fall, not obviously “With?” he asks, casual enough to pass.

“My younger brother,” she says, reaching for her bag again, fingers brushing over the strap. “He just got free from college. First time in months.” A small smile tugs at her lips, different from the ones she gives him, familiar, fond, rooted somewhere older. “I promised him.”

Taehyung nods once. “Right,” he says. And he means it. There’s no pushback, no attempt to convince her otherwise. Just an easy acceptance that makes it harder to leave than if he had argued.

She glances at the mugs again, then back at him. “What are your plans for the weekend?” she asks, the couch feels like a cloud right now, she could just fall asleep on it again.

“I have a shoot on Sunday” “No plans for halloween?” ___ asks and he turns to fully look at her, he’s noticed one thing, she likes to live life by celebrating it, house cooling parties, halloween, half birthdays. 

“So,” she adds, shifting slightly to face him more, her hair falling forward over one shoulder, “you’re telling me Kim Taehyung has no Halloween plans?”

“I didn’t realize that was a requirement,” he replies, one brow lifting slightly. “It is,” she says immediately. “You have a reputation to maintain.” He huffs out a quiet laugh. “And what reputation is that?”

She tilts her head, pretending to consider it seriously. “Mysterious. Artistic. Handsome man that knows how to party”  He studies her for a moment, really studies her, the way she says things so lightly but means them just enough to matter.

“And what would you suggest I do,” he asks, voice quieter now, “to maintain my reputation?” She smiles, slow this time, and a little dangerous. “Come to my halloween party”

“Do you think I’ll have to be in costume for a halloween party?” Taehyung asks the stylist who’s very patient with his hair. Before she can answer, Jimin speaks from the chair beside him, “Yes, 100%, probably should have discussed with her if you want to match with ___” 

“She’s being super secretive about who she’s going as so we can’t match” Taehyung adds as he continues to look at his phone, trying to find an outfit in approximately six hours. 

“So, you go as someone sexy, like V of BTS, you tell exactly as you do and you tell people that you aren’t V of BTS, just pretending to” Jimin adds and he finds the image of Taehyung lying to a room full of people funny.

The stylist lets out a small, surprised laugh before she can stop herself, “I can have someone from wardrobe pick out something, maybe go as batman or a cowboy?” she suggests

“Yes, thank you for the sane advice, something that possibly covers my face-” “___ just invited us to a party” Jungkook's voice arrives before he does, filling the dressing room with the particular energy of someone delivering news he finds excellent. He appears in the doorway a beat later, phone in hand, still smiling at whatever she sent him.

Taehyung goes very still, not obviously, just enough. "Us?"

"Me and Jimin hyung." Jungkook drops into the empty chair like he lives there, scrolling back through the message with the unbothered ease of someone who has no idea what he's walked into. "She said you're already coming and that we should too, if we have the time." He looks up, grinning. "She's hosting it in an art studio. How cool is that?"

The mirror gives Taehyung away before he can help it. Something moves across his face, quick and controlled, but Jimin catches it. Jimin always catches it. He presses his lips together and says nothing, which is somehow worse than if he'd said something.

"She just," Taehyung starts, then stops. Picks up his phone, sets it back down immediately. "She texted you directly?"

"Yeah," Jungkook says simply, already typing back. "She said the more the merrier." He pauses, reads something, laughs quietly to himself at whatever she's replied to. "She's funny."

Taehyung watches him laugh at his phone for a second too long. "She is," Jimin agrees, from his chair, with the serene expression of a man enjoying himself enormously.

Taehyung looks back at his own reflection. The stylist resumes her work with the quiet professionalism of someone who has learned, in this industry, that the correct response to dressing room tension is to simply continue doing the hair.

"Fine," Taehyung says. "The more the merrier." He says it the way someone says something they do not entirely mean.

___: Hey, I know I said 10 but you still aren’t here :( 

___: got caught up with something?

She pockets her phone and makes her rounds. The studio is loud and warm and full in the best way.

"Three pieces sold," Hyunwoo appears at her shoulder, drink in hand, looking at the wall across the room with the expression of someone who still can't quite believe it. "Three."

"I told you," she says simply. "You told me it was a good idea. You didn't tell me people would actually-" he gestures at the wall, at the small red stickers that have appeared on three of the tags. "I need to call the artists tonight."

"Call them tomorrow," she says. "Tonight, just enjoy it." He looks around the space, his grandfather's space, loud and full and lit with candles his girlfriend insisted on. "Yeah," he says, quieter. "Okay."

Hyunwoo had inherited the space from his grandfather three years ago and done absolutely nothing with it since, which was the tragedy, because the bones of it are extraordinary. High ceilings, original brick, light fixtures that look like they were installed sometime in the 1940s and never needed replacing. 

Taehyung: Sorry, Jimin’s outfit took too long

Taehyung: Are we supposed to just walk in? we’ll be there in about 5 minutes

___: I’ll be waiting for you in the front

The door opens before she reaches it. Jungkook comes in first, helmet under his arm, looking around with open curiosity. Jimin follows, hat slightly tilted, immediately clocking the art on the walls. And then Taehyung, last, hands in his pockets, suit jacket open, the Superman logo catching the warm studio light as he steps inside and finds her immediately.

Taehyung goes very still. She watches it happen, the fraction of a second where his expression does something unguarded before he collects it. "Hi," she says.

"Hi," he says. His eyes move over her once, quickly, the way people look at things they're trying not to look at.

"Woah," Jungkook says, with complete sincerity, which makes her laugh and breaks whatever was just happening. "You look-" Jimin starts. "Amazing," Jungkook finishes, still looking. "The feathers are real?"

"Some of them," she says, turning slightly so he can see the back, the feathers worked into the fabric along her shoulders. Jungkook reaches out and touches one with one finger like it might dissolve.

Jimin tips his hat. "Ma'am." She laughs again and curtsies, which is exactly the right response to a cowboy hat tip. "Welcome," she says, stepping back to let them properly in. "Come on, I'll show you around."

She turns, and Taehyung falls into step beside her, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushes hers. "Clark Kent," she says quietly, just for him, nodding at the logo.

"It was low effort," he says. "You look very handsome," she says, her eyes still ahead, navigating them through the crowd with the ease of someone who knows every corner of this room. "Very much the kind of guy I'd want to save me."

He looks at her immediately. She doesn't look back. "Do you need any saving?" he says, a beat later. "Black Swan?"

She turns to look at him then, fully, and the studio lights catch the dark sweep of her eye makeup and she smiles, slow and deliberate. "I’d get into trouble on purpose just to be saved by you"

The noise of the party continues around them completely indifferently. Taehyung can’t shake off the weird feeling he has in his chest, the kind that wants to close the distance between them every time she says or does something like this. 

“No, come on we can’t just talk to each other-” “Well we also don’t want to hijack ___’s party by being the awkward famous people” Jimin interrupts as they continue to wait by the bar for his drink. Taehyung isn't listening to either of them. His eyes have found her again across the room, she's talking to a man he doesn't recognize, a tall, easy smile, leaning slightly toward her in the way people do when they want to be heard over the music. She says something and he laughs, loud enough that Taehyung can see it from here.

He picks up his drink. "Who's that?" he asks, keeping his voice completely level.

Jimin follows his eyeline. "Don't know," he says pleasantly. "Probably a friend," Jungkook offers, helpful as always.

"Mm." Taehyung takes a sip. Watches the man lean in slightly closer to say something in her ear. She tilts her head to hear him better, a small smile forming at whatever it was. Taehyung sets his drink down. Picks it back up and downs it entirely. 

Jungkook had another party to attend afterwards,  a gentle goodbye, a brief hug for ___ when she surfaces long enough to find them, and then it's just Jimin and Taehyung left. She finds them every now and then, appearing at their shoulders between rounds, slightly breathless from moving through the room, her feathers intact against all odds. Each time she arrives she brings someone with her.

___ walks away with a very handsome Sculptor, the one who offered him his arm as they walked away. Jimin appears at his side with a fresh drink and the serene expression of a man watching something unfold exactly as he expected. "She pays attention to you too, you know," he says.

Taehyung takes the drink. "Don't." "I'm just saying."

"Jimin-ah." "I'm not saying anything," Jimin says pleasantly. "I'm just standing here." A pause. "Looking in this general direction."

Across the room the sculptor leans in to say something close to her ear, his hand finding her elbow briefly as he does. She listens, nods, glances up at him with that small private smile.

The thing in Taehyung's chest does something it has no business doing. "I need another drink," he says.

"You have a drink," Jimin points out. Taehyung looks down at his very full glass. "I need a different drink, much stronger"

"I am king of pool!" Taehyung announces loudly to the room as he wins yet another match, both arms raised, cue still in hand, with the complete conviction of a man who has never been more certain of anything in his life.

"You've won twice," Hyunwoo says. "Twice as king," Taehyung confirms, setting the cue down with great ceremony.

Jimin, perched on a stool nearby with a glass of water he is nursing with intense focus, looks up at the ceiling briefly. He is drunk. He is aware that he is drunk. He is trying very hard to be the responsible one, which is significantly more difficult when the room keeps tilting slightly.

"Okay," Jimin says, sliding off the stool with more dignity than the situation warrants. "Okay, I think-"

"Another round," Taehyung says, already reaching for the cue. "Taehyung-ah-"

"Jimin-ah, I am king, kings don't stop-" "Taehyung."

They both turn. She's standing in the doorway of the small back room where someone had the excellent idea of setting up a pool table, her arms crossed, taking in the scene with the expression of a woman who has assessed worse situations and handled them efficiently. The feathers at her shoulders are slightly ruffled now, the night having caught up with the costume. She looks devastating anyway.

Taehyung's face does something immediate and helpless at the sight of her. "You're here," he says, with the uncomplicated delight of the very drunk.

"I'm here," she confirms, stepping into the room. Her eyes move to Jimin, who gives her a look that communicates volumes in under a second. She nods once. "How many?"

"Many," Jimin says. "I'm not," Taehyung starts, then reconsiders. "I'm a little." He holds up two fingers very close together. "Just a little."

"He is not a little," Jimin says. "I won pool," Taehyung says to her, as evidence. "Twice."

"I heard," she says. "Very impressive." She moves to his side, and he turns toward her with the easy gravity of someone drawn without thinking. Up close she can smell his cologne underneath the warmth of the evening, and his eyes are soft and dark and fixed on her with an attention that has no filter left on it.

"Okay, we need to go," Jimin says, straightening, which would be more convincing if he didn't immediately reach for the wall. "I'm. I'll get a car, I just need a." He gestures vaguely. "A minute."

"Come on," she says instead, her hand finding Jimin’s arm. "Let's get you home." 

“Jimin sit straight, and enough with the water” ___ speaks from the middle seat as she snatches the water away from him, the car hits a speedbreaker at the same time, only making Taehyung hold on to her arm even tighter.

“Did you guys just have a car waiting the whole time?” “Yes ___ we’re BTS and for the times that we go out for a party, twice a year, the company has a car waiting for us” Jimin brags, which doesn’t land as intended.  

“Only twice a year?” “Well we don’t go out very often, actually rarely, we get invited but don’t end up going till a pretty girl is involved” Jimin rambles as the car takes a smooth turn.  The car slows at Jimin's building first. She helps him out with the focused attention of someone completing a task, making sure he has his phone, his keys, his water bottle which he immediately tries to leave behind and she puts back in his hand.

"Text when you're inside," she says. "Yes mother," Jimin says warmly, then turns, and even in this state, he finds Taehyung's eyes over her shoulder for just a second. Something passes between them, brief and complete, the entire conversation happening in under a moment.

"I am so sorry to leave like that," she says. "I just had to take care of something."

"Something or someone?" Hyunwoo teases from the other end, warm and unbothered, the party noise still humming behind his voice. She exhales, and turns, almost instinctively, to look at that certain someone sitting beside her.

Taehyung is already looking at her. He doesn't look away when she catches him, which is its own kind of answer. He just holds her gaze with the unhurried calm of a man who has run out of reasons to pretend he wasn't looking. 

"I'll call you tomorrow," she says into the phone. "Sure you will," Hyunwoo says pleasantly, and hangs up first. She lowers her phone slowly. 

"You're cold," Taehyung says. Quietly, simply, like he's been sitting on the observation for some time and has only now decided to do something about it. His eyes drop briefly to her arm, bare in the costume, and then back up.

"I'm fine," she says.

"Your arm is cold." He says it the way he says most things he's decided, not a question, not quite a statement, just a fact he's already acted on by the time it's out of his mouth. He shifts, closing the distance between them on the seat, his shoulder solid and warm against hers.

“Come on, stand still” Taehyung instructs her as he stills his phone against a plant. It’s like she realized that she had gotten him home safely and the drinks were starting to hit her. “I am still” she complains as she pops her hip off as they try to pose. 

He laughs, quiet and genuine, and steps in beside her, close enough that his arm presses against her shoulder. She tilts into him slightly, not quite meaning to, and neither of them adjusts.

"Okay," he says, reaching forward to tap the timer on his phone. "Don't move." "I'm not moving." "You're swaying." Taehyung states as his hand comes around her waist, an attempt to still her. He moves forward, with her in his arms to take another picture, he’s not sure if the drinks will let him remember this, but he is going to capture this moment.

He reaches forward one more time, taps the timer, and pulls her just slightly closer as it counts down, his chin dropping near her temple, her feathers brushing his jaw. She lets him.  

The phone clicks. She turns her head slightly to say something and finds his face very close to hers, closer than the photo requires, and whatever she was going to say doesn't quite make it out. She looks at him. He looks back. The timer goes off again behind them, capturing something neither of them has named yet, the particular quality of two people standing at the edge of something and not quite stepping forward and not quite stepping back.

She faces forward again. Clears her throat softly. "I should go," she says. "You are fine now right?"

He looks at her with the patient expression of a man who has never been less fine. "No ___," he says simply. "I am still extremely drunk. I took six shots of vodka." A pause, during which he appears to be doing some internal accounting. "Maybe seven."

“And I don’t want you going home drunk like this and dressed like this either. It’s too sexy for the streets of Seoul” he says as he pulls her by the arm, taking her through the apartment.

“Come on, let's get you into bed before you start saying more stupid stuff” ___ deflects as she takes the lead, walking through his dark apartment. “I am not saying stupid stuff ___, this is the truth” Taehyung’s voice is low as it booms, she turns around briefly as she waits for him with an open door. 

“Which way is the closet?” ___ deflects again as she pushes him towards the bed, he falls with a gentle thud, “And do you have makeup remover? The makeup is starting to irritate me” ___ adds as she looks around while he simply looks at her.

"Come here," he says quietly. He reaches over to the bedside table, unhurried, and picks something up.

She walks over, and before she's quite decided how she's standing or where this is going, his hands find her waist and pull, gently but with complete certainty, and she is sitting in his lap. He shifts beneath her, adjusting so she's settled properly, and then opens the makeup remover pad he pulled from the nightstand and holds her chin lightly with two fingers, tilting her face toward the window light.

She lets him. He is very careful. That's the thing that undoes her slightly, the carefulness of it, the way he starts at the corner of her eye and moves slowly, gently, the way you handle something you don't want to damage. His touch is light and certain and he's watching what he's doing with complete focus, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration.

She watches his face instead. Up close like this, in the quiet of the bedroom, she can see the tiredness around his eyes, the way the evening has softened him, worn down the careful composure he carries in public until what's left is just this, just him.

"You're going to have to do the other side," she says softly, because she needs to say something.

"I know," he says, without looking up. He reaches for another pad, opens it with one hand, tilts her chin the other way. "Hold still." "I am still."

"You're breathing too loud." "That's not a thing." "It's distracting," he says, and the corner of his mouth moves, just barely. She exhales deliberately, loudly, directly at him. He closes his eyes for a second with the patience of a saint and then continues, his thumb brushing her cheekbone as he works, careful and slow.

Taehyung pulls back slightly to look at his work, still holding her face, his thumb resting at her jaw, and something in his expression goes very quiet and very focused in a way that has nothing to do with the makeup anymore.

She looks back at him. "Better?" she asks, her voice coming out softer than she intended.

He looks at her for a long moment. Her face bare now, the swan stripped back to just her, just this, just the two of them in the dark of his bedroom. “Can you help me with the dress too? It’s suffocating me” she mutters what she’s wanted to do for a long time. 

"Turn around," he says quietly. She shifts in his lap, turning so her back is to him, her spine straightening automatically, the dancer in her.  His hands find the back of the dress. She can feel him locate the zip, his fingers careful, unhurried, moving her hair over one shoulder first so it's out of the way. The small deliberate gesture of it.

Then the zip, slow, the sound of it very loud in the quiet room. 

The corset loosens and she exhales, long and involuntary, the relief of it immediate. "Better?" he asks, his voice low near her shoulder.

"Yes," she breathes. "God, yes." he slightly shifts behind her. His hands rest at her waist for a moment, light and still, not moving, just there.

"Find me something to sleep in," she continues and he simply takes off his shirt for her.

Taehyung has always been an interesting sleeper, he settles for holding a pillow, he’s lucky if it’s a person, especially a girl who smells lightly like vanilla and cigarettes. His arm tightens slightly, not dramatically. Just the small unconscious adjustment of someone who has found exactly what they were looking for without knowing they were looking.

She stirs, just barely, somewhere between asleep and not. She registers the arm. The weight of it, warm and certain across her. She registers the slow steady breathing behind her, close enough to feel. She should move, that's the practical thought, the sensible one.  She doesn't move.

Instead she settles, just slightly, and closes her eyes again, and the city glows softly beyond the curtains and the clock ticks and Taehyung sleeps with his face near her hair and his arm around her waist like she is something he found and intends to keep, and she lies there in the warm dark of his bedroom and stares at the ceiling for approximately forty five seconds before sleep takes her too.

Taehyung has the big three on his night stand, his phone, keys and wallet, those are the first things he looks for when he jerks awake. What registers finally is the missing woman from his arms, at least the one he was dreaming of. 

“Shit” his voice is coarse as he runs a hand through his hair, the hangover already making him sick. He gets startled when he breathes out, immediately walking over to brush his teeth. She was definitely here, as evidenced by the makeup wipes on the floor. 

“She just left and she’s not responding to my messages, I fucked up, bad” Taehyung groans into his phone as he gets startled by the sound of a toaster. “What would I have possibly done, told her I liked her and she freaked out?” he continues as he struggles with the fridge door. 

“Dude,” Jimin groans finally, voice thick with sleep, somewhere under a pile of blankets. “Can you stop spiraling so loudly? I am too hungover for your girl problems.” Taehyung ignores that completely.

“She wouldn’t just ghost me,” he says, quieter now, more to himself than to Jimin. “She’s not like that.” Jimin shifts again, finally rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling like he’s been unwillingly recruited into a crisis.

“Or,” Jimin says slowly, “she woke up, realized she was cuddled to sleep by Kim Taehyung, and needed a minute to process her life choices like a normal person” Jimin exhales as he tries to gather all the strength in him to stand up. “What did you two do, kiss? Sex? Please tell me that we got this drunk for you to finally tell her how you feel?”

“I don’t know how I feel-” “You don’t know?” he repeats, incredulous. “Taehyung, you obviously like her. No one throws a party and then attends another one just for a friend-” “I’d do that for you,” Taehyung cuts in immediately.

“I know you like me,” Jimin shoots back without missing a beat, already pushing himself to stand and immediately regretting it. He steadies himself against the wall, eyes closing briefly. “Focus. On your feelings for ___.”

Taehyung opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out this time. “Just call her,” Jimin says in all seriousness as he hangs up the phone. He goes back to eating his dry toast as he looks at the messages he sent her. 

Taehyung: Where are you?

Taehyung: Sorry if I said or did anything that crossed a boundary last night

Taehyung: Please call me

He types the last one too fast, thumb slipping slightly against the screen. Still nothing.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, he doesn’t wait this time, he hits call. The ringing feels longer than it actually is. Each second stretching just enough to make his chest tighten. He leans forward, elbow on his knee, pressing his thumb harder against the edge of the phone like that might speed it up.

One ring, two, three. He’s just about to hang up-

“Hello?” He freezes, her voice is rough. Coarse. Like she just woke up or hasn’t slept at all.

“___?” he says immediately, sitting up straighter. “Where are you? I’ve been- I thought-”

“I’m at the hospital,” she cuts in, voice still low, a little uneven. Everything in him stills.

“What?” His grip on the phone tightens. “Why? Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” she says quickly, like she’s already been asked that question too many times this morning. “It’s my mom. There was an emergency early in the morning.”

The words land all at once. The panic in his chest doesn’t disappear, it just shifts. “What happened?” he asks, softer now, all the urgency still there but redirected.

“They think it’s a reaction to the treatment,” she says, and there’s a quiet steadiness to her voice that wasn’t there a second ago. The kind that sounds practiced. Held together. “She’s stable now. They’re just… monitoring.”

Taehyung exhales slowly, leaning back, one hand coming up to press against his forehead. “She’s okay,” he repeats, like he needs to hear it again to believe it.

“Yeah,” she says. A small pause. “She’s okay.” Another silence settles between them, but it feels different now. Not avoidance. Just… exhaustion.

He swallows. “I thought I did something,” he admits quietly. “You just-left. And then you weren’t answering.” There’s a shift on the other end. Fabric moving, like she’s sitting down.

“I didn’t even think,” she says after a moment. “Dad called and I just… left. I was going to text you, I just-” she exhales softly. “I’m tired…“I’m sorry,” she adds anyway, quieter now. 

“Don’t be,” he says, firmer this time. “You don’t have to apologize for that.” He takes a sharp breath before he talks again, “You should have woken me up,”

Taehyung: When can I see you again?

___ pockets her phone as she re-reads his message. It’s been a busy couple of weeks, with her mother and working and with Christmas approaching, a lot more people want to buy handbags. She hasn’t been ignoring him per say, they’ve been talking, a few messages here and there, but not much.

She moves through it automatically, like she’s done a hundred times before. Smile when needed. Nod at the right moments. Wrap, bill, repeat.

“Step away, Joowon, I am not interested,” she says, already attempting to move around him, her patience thinner than usual.

“Come on,” he insists, falling into step beside her as she pushes the door open, “one date. Let me show you a good time.” The cool air outside does little to ease the irritation building in her chest. She exhales sharply, turning to face him properly now, hoping clarity will do what subtlety hasn’t.

“I’m stepping out for five minutes, not agreeing to anything with you,” she says, her tone firm but controlled. “You’re wasting your time.” He doesn’t seem discouraged, only amused in a way that makes her jaw tighten slightly.

“You say that now,” he replies, shrugging, “but you haven’t given me a real reason to stop trying.” She almost responds, almost shuts it down properly this time, but the moment shifts before she can.

“___?” The familiarity of Taehyung’s voice cuts through the conversation instantly. She turns, and there he is. Taehyung stands a short distance away with a few of his friends, though they’ve already faded into the background the second his attention settles on her. There’s no immediate reaction written across his face, no obvious assumption, just a brief glance toward Joowon before his gaze returns to her. 

“Can you go back in, they still need someone to make the drinks” ___ physically pushes Joowon back in as Taehyung’s friends still keep walking, wanting to make it to the restaurant in time for their reservation. 

“This is why you’ve been rejecting me? You could have just said-” “I don’t think I need to give you an explanation so as to why I’m rejecting you and go back inside”

There’s no room left for negotiation in the way she says it. After a moment, he exhales in mild frustration but gives in, stepping back into the bar, the door swinging shut behind him with a loud thud.

The noise from inside fades again, leaving the street quieter than it was a minute ago. She turns back and he’s still there frozen. “I pick up a few shifts sometimes, waitress, bottle girl, whatever the club needs”

She exhales lightly, then adds, “I pick up shifts sometimes. Just when they’re short-staffed.” There’s a small pause, not uncomfortable, just filled with the quiet awareness that this is the first real conversation they’ve had in weeks that isn’t filtered through a screen.

“I don’t have a college education or any real skills, per se,” she continues, filling the space before it can turn into something else. “So I just take whatever work I can get.” The words come out more matter-of-fact than defensive, but there’s still something in them that feels like explanation, like she’s offering context before he can form an opinion.

Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately. He starts walking instead, closing the distance between them at an unhurried pace, his attention still fixed on her in that same steady, unreadable way. He stops a few steps in front of her, close enough now that the space between them feels intentional rather than incidental.

“Okay,” he says. It’s simple. Too simple, maybe. She searches his face briefly, like she’s trying to figure out what he’s doing with everything she just told him, whether he’s dismissing it, accepting it, or quietly judging it in a way he won’t say out loud.

“Okay,” he repeats, a little more deliberate this time. “I have dinner plans and you have to go back I’m assuming?” “Yes I do” “Okay then, hopefully I’ll see you soon?” Taehyung asks, not placing a lot of expectations in his words.

“Come on, go back, we can go to the club” Wooshik stands up the moment Taehyung’s done explaining it all. “Sit down, she didn’t tell me about this all this time because she didn’t want to, I’m not going to show up at a club she works at” Taehyung adds calmly as he goes back to reading the menu, that’s when his phone vibrates and the rest of the table looks at him curiously while he checks the message.

___: I get done around 1, you think you’ll be around by then?

___: or whenever works for you

___: I have wanted to see you again since halloween

“Come on, text her back” Hyushik pleads as Taehyung just locks his phone, not ready to respond yet. 

They don’t see each other that night, or any day after. He texts, something about being busy, a week full of shoots and with the new year and album release coming closer, that has been a lot to do. There has also been a lot to think about.

“So, management has decided. They’ll be shutting down one store as it doesn’t make sense to have three stores in the same area. Since ours is the smallest location, this will be the one that gets shut down” the store manager announces before the store closes. 

The words settle heavily, not dramatic, just final. No one reacts immediately, it’s the kind of information that takes a second to register properly.

“A few of the sales associates will be moved to other locations,” the manager adds, already moving into logistics, into something easier to process than the decision itself. “The rest will be receiving severance.”

Someone exhales under their breath. Someone else asks a quiet question that doesn’t really get answered. The space feels smaller suddenly, like the walls have shifted closer without warning.

___ doesn’t say anything. She just stands there, arms loosely crossed, her expression unreadable in a way that almost looks like calm if you don’t look too closely. Because this isn’t new, not really. Uncertainty, temporary work, things ending without much notice. Still, her mind moves quickly, already calculating, already adjusting.

She thinks about texting him on her way back home, she doesn’t work on that instinct, she’s too tired to act on it. She does what she does on all bad days, pick up an extra spicy order or tteokbokki and go home, put on something she’s watched a couple times and just fall asleep.

Her final straw is the broken down front door, like someone broke into her place. She freezes for a second, not knowing what to do till she calls the police, someone could still be in there. Her gaze never leaves the door as the line rings, her body tense, caught between the urge to run and the need to stay, just in case. 

“We think it was a random break-in,” the officer explains later, his voice steady, practiced in a way that makes it clear he’s said this before. “Someone drunk, or desperate enough to try their luck without much of a plan.”

She stands a few feet away, arms folded loosely, watching as another officer moves in and out of her apartment, gloves on, careful, methodical. The door now hangs open in a way it shouldn’t, the inside of her space suddenly unfamiliar just because it’s been seen by someone else first.

Yellow tape cuts across the entrance, enough to make it feel like she doesn’t belong there right now.

“We’ll collect CCTV footage from the surrounding area,” he continues. “See if we can identify anyone.” She nods once. “You shouldn’t stay here tonight,” he adds after a moment, his tone softening just slightly. “Find somewhere else. Parents, friends?”

The question lingers. Her parents would have been the first call she made, but she is in no mood for another lecture about why she chose to live away from home and her lack of a stable job. Her brother lives at the dorms, that’s a no go. Most friends still live with parents and this would be a lot of explaining. She pulls out her phone and calls the one person she knows who’s not going to have any follow-up questions.

“Hey.” Taehyung's voice comes through slightly breathless, like he picked up in the middle of something. On the other end, Taehyung steps away from the set, one hand still loosely holding his phone as the director calls for a reset behind him. He’d almost missed it, the screen lighting up in his pocket just as they were lining up for the final shot of the day.

“Hey,” she murmurs back, her voice quieter than usual, stripped of its usual steadiness in a way that’s subtle, but there. He notices immediately.

“You okay?” he asks, already moving further away from the noise, his tone shifting without hesitation.

There’s a small pause. She doesn’t answer right away.not because she doesn’t want to, but because saying it out loud makes it real in a way she hasn’t fully processed yet.

“My place…” she starts, then stops, pressing her lips together briefly before trying again. “Someone broke in.” The words settle between them, Taehyung stops moving for a full minute before he responds

“What?” The confusion is immediate, followed quickly by something sharper. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she says. “I didn’t go in. I called the police.They're here.” He exhales, tension shifting but not disappearing. “Are you safe?” “Yes.”

“They said I shouldn’t stay here tonight,” she adds, more quietly this time.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Come to mine.” It’s immediate, certain, like this was the only option to ever exist. 

“You don’t have to-” she starts, out of habit more than anything. “No ___ I have to, someone broke into your place, it’s clearly not safe” he cuts in, not harsh, just firm enough to stop her. “Please just take my help instead of pushing me away”

She exhales softly, her grip on the phone loosening just a fraction. “Okay.” On the other end, he nods to himself, already moving, already thinking two steps ahead. 

“I might be a little late,” he says, glancing back toward the set where people are still resetting for another shot. “We’re wrapping up, but it’s running over.” He continues. “My manager will be there, he has a key. He’ll let you in.”

She hesitates for half a second at that, the idea of walking into his space without him there settling a little strangely, but she doesn’t question it.

Taehyung is practically running off set once they’re done, he knew he’d be a bit late, not 2 am late. But he still manages to make his way back home, the door making a noise behind him as he walks in. The entire place is dark, like she wasn’t here, even if his manager informed him that she was very much inside the house.

He flickers a few lights on and finds her not where he was expecting, asleep on the sofa. He exhales quietly, something in his chest easing at the sight of her, and walks over, slower now, the urgency replaced by something more careful.

He crouches slightly beside the sofa, his voice low when he says her name. “___… hey.”

She stirs, but doesn’t wake fully. He watches her for a second longer, taking in the tension still lingering in her expression even in sleep, before trying again, softer this time. She blinks slowly, her gaze unfocused at first, then settling on him, and the moment recognition clicks into place, something in her expression shifts so quickly it almost startles him.

“You’re here,” she says, her voice rough, barely above a whisper, like she’s still not entirely convinced he’s actually in front of her.

“Yeah,” he replies immediately, softer now, his tone grounding in a way that’s meant more for her than the words themselves. “I’m here.”

That’s all it takes. Her face tightens before she can stop it, her breath catching in a way that has nothing to do with sleep anymore, and she sits up too quickly, like she needs to close the distance between them just to make sure he’s real.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she says, the words coming out uneven, not held back, not measured the way she usually is. “I just stood there and I couldn’t even go inside, I just-” she pulls him closer, wanting to feel another heartbeat just to make sure this is all real and not a bad dream. She grips him tightly as she lets the tears loose, she can’t breathe anymore, holding all this in.

She cuts herself off as she pulls him closer, the movement instinctive, almost urgent, like she needs something solid to hold onto just to ground herself. Her grip tightens around him, fingers clutching at his shirt as the tears come all at once, unrestrained now, her breathing uneven in a way that makes it hard to catch up.

“And then I got fired, and this has to be that guy from the bar, it has to be, and I should’ve told the police earlier, I should’ve said something when he kept showing up, I just-” “___,” Taehyung interrupts, his voice firm but low, close enough that she has to hear him through the spiral she’s slipping into.

She doesn’t stop immediately, her words overlapping with themselves, her thoughts running faster than she can keep up with. “I didn’t think it was serious, I shouldn’t have been so rude with him”

“___,” he says again, more deliberate this time, one hand coming up to steady her, not forceful, just enough to anchor her where she is. “Look at me.”

It takes a second, but she does, her breathing still uneven, her grip on him not loosening. Taehyung shifts as he moves her along with him, placing himself on the floor and her in his lap. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, softer now, his voice close enough that she feels it more than hears it.

One of his hands comes up to the back of her head, not forcing, just resting there, fingers threading lightly through her hair as he pulls her in just a little closer, tightening his hold around her like he’s making sure there’s no space left for her to feel like she’s alone in this.

And then, without overthinking it, he presses a quiet kiss to her temple. Just gentle, grounding, something steady in the middle of everything that isn’t. “Breathe,” he adds under his breath, his lips still close to her skin, his hold not loosening even slightly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Her breathing is still uneven, still catching in places, but the rhythm of it begins to shift, slowly syncing with something calmer, something steadier than the panic she was caught in just moments ago.

He stays like that, holding her as close as he can without overwhelming her, one hand moving slowly along her back in a quiet, repetitive motion, the other still resting at her head. He doesn’t rush her to stop crying, doesn’t pull away, just holds her there, as tightly as she needs, like he’s not going anywhere.

The morning settles in quietly, the kind of soft, early light that filters through the curtains without asking for attention, turning the room a muted gold. At some point during the night, the TV has gone silent, the screen dark, leaving only the steady rhythm of her breathing and the faint hum of the apartment around them.

It’s that same rhythm that pulls Taehyung awake. Not abruptly,just gradually, his awareness returning in pieces, the first thing he registers being the weight of her against him, still tucked into his arms exactly where she had been hours ago.

He doesn’t move immediately. For a moment, he just stays there, letting himself wake up fully, his hand still resting lightly against her back, rising and falling with each breath she takes. Carefully, he tilts his head slightly to look at her properly.

Her face is relaxed now, the tension from the night before gone, or at least softened enough that it doesn’t sit so visibly in her expression anymore. 

As gently as he can manage, he shifts, testing the movement first to make sure it doesn’t wake her. When she doesn’t stir, he slides one arm more securely beneath her, the other supporting her back, lifting her carefully from where she’s been resting against him.

She barely reacts. Just a small shift, her head turning slightly toward him, like she’s settling more comfortably rather than waking up.

He pushes his bedroom door open with his foot, lowering her onto the bed with the same care, adjusting the pillows slightly so she doesn’t wake from the movement. For a second, he considers stepping back immediately.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls the blanket over her, pausing just long enough to make sure she’s settled, his hand hovering for a moment before resting briefly against her arm, like a final check that she’s still there, still okay.

When he walks back into the living room, he’s met with the quiet clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Mrs. Lee looks up as soon as she notices him, a small, knowing smile already forming before she says anything.

“You’re up early,” she comments, though her tone suggests she’s already noticed more than just that.

Taehyung runs a hand through his hair, still waking up, still not entirely adjusted back to the normal rhythm of things. “Couldn’t really sleep in,” he replies, his voice kept low out of habit now. He’s used to Mrs Lee letting herself in and getting started with work on most days.

Her gaze flicks briefly toward the hallway, then back to him. “So,” she says, a hint of curiosity slipping through despite her otherwise composed demeanor, “your girlfriend is still asleep?”

The word lingers, he should correct her. But the explanation feels… unnecessary. Complicated in a way that doesn’t fit the quiet simplicity of the morning.

So instead, he just nods. “Yes,” he says easily, like it’s the most natural answer in the world.

Mrs. Lee smiles, satisfied with that, already turning back to what she was doing. “She must have been very tired.” “She was,” he replies, glancing briefly toward the hallway again without meaning to.

“Can you make something simple for lunch? Some kind of soup with some rice?” Taehyung suggests as he moves around the kitchen, getting some water for him and ___. “If she’s going to be here more often, you’re going to need real groceries, not just diet food”  Mrs Lee suggests as she gets started on the rice.

“We’ll go grocery shopping then, I want her to be happy and comfortable here” Taehyung talks candidly, the words come out easily, like he hasn’t stopped to consider how they sound out loud.

Mrs. Lee pauses just briefly, glancing at him with a quiet sort of approval, though she doesn’t make a big point of it. “How about I make some quick breakfast, a little breakfast in bed for her?” she suggests and Taehyung stops mid-step at that, turns slightly back toward her, considering it for a second longer than expected.

“That might be a bit too much,” he says finally, not dismissively, just careful. “I think it might overwhelm her.” Mrs. Lee studies him for a moment, like she’s measuring how much thought he’s putting into this, how deliberately he’s choosing what not to do. 

“I need to go back, at least pick up some stuff,” ___ reasons over lunch, Taehyung needs to leave soon, but he also wants to make sure that she won’t leave in the meantime.

Taehyung had been watching her, making sure she was actually eating, and the moment she says it, something in his expression shifts, not sharp, not tense, just more focused. “I can have it picked up for you,” he offers, the response immediate, like the idea of her going back there herself doesn’t sit right with him.

She shakes her head lightly, already expecting that. “You’ve already done too much,” she says, softer this time, almost like she doesn’t want it to sound like rejection. “I’ll just stay with Arin for a bit. She said I can come over until I figure something out.”

“___,” he says, quieter now, and when she finally looks up, he’s already leaning a little closer, his hand coming up without hesitation, resting gently against her cheek. Warm, steady, his thumb brushing lightly along her skin in a way that makes it difficult to look away from him.

“You can stay here,” he says, and this time it’s softer, but more certain. “As long as you want. As long as you need.” Her breath catches just slightly at that, just enough to show that it landed somewhere deeper than she expected.

“I suppose Arin doesn’t have a guest bedroom?” he adds, his tone lighter, but his hand doesn’t move away, still there. “She doesn’t,” she admits, her voice quieter now. “But she has a floor. And an extra mattress.” He huffs a faint breath at that, something almost like disbelief, but softened by the way he’s still looking at her.

“And that sounds better to you?” he asks, not pushing, just trying to understand. “It’s easier,” she says. His thumb stills for a second against her cheek before moving again, slower this time.

“For who?” he asks gently. She doesn’t answer right away, her gaze dropping for a moment before returning to him, like she doesn’t have a clean answer to give. “For me,” she says eventually, though it sounds uncertain even to her own ears.

He studies her for a second, something in his expression softening further, like he’s seeing past what she’s saying into what she’s trying to protect. “You don’t have to do that,” he says quietly.

His hand shifts slightly, cupping her cheek a little more fully now, his voice lowering just enough that it feels more like something meant only for her. “Let me take care of you.”

The words don’t come with expectation, they don’t feel heavy. If anything, they feel really simple, like he’s not asking for anything in return, just offering.

“Okay” It comes out softer than she expects, but there’s no hesitation behind it this time. “Okay,” he repeats, something easing in his expression almost immediately, like that was all he needed to hear.

He lets his hand fall from her cheek without lingering, and just as quickly, he shifts gears, finishing the rest of his lunch with a quiet kind of efficiency that feels almost deliberate, he can’t be late after leaving early yesterday.

“Okay,” he says again, more to himself this time, as he pulls out his wallet and steps back toward her. “This is the one you’ll need for the building and the elevator.” He places it in front of her, not quite handing it over, just setting it down.

“I’ve texted you the pin for the apartment,” he continues, glancing briefly at his phone. “So you can come and go whenever you want.” She nods slowly, still watching him, trying to keep up with the way he’s moving through all of this so naturally.

“And this-” he adds, pulling out another card, pausing just slightly this time before holding it out to her, “credit card”, Her brows knit immediately. “Taehyung-”

“Just for groceries,” he says quickly, though there’s a faint hint of something lighter in his tone now, like he can already see the protest forming. “Or whatever you need.”

“That’s too much,” she says, quieter now. He watches her for a second, then exhales softly, something shifting in his expression before he tilts his head just slightly, a glint of something playful breaking through the seriousness.

“Come on,” he says, nudging the card a little closer to her. “Let oppa take care of you.” The delivery is so sudden, so completely at odds with everything he’s said so far, that it catches her off guard. For a second, she just stares at him. Then she lets out a small laugh, genuine, unguarded, the kind that hasn’t shown up once since the night before.

“Did you really just say that?” she asks, shaking her head, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little.

He shrugs, like he has absolutely no shame about it, though there’s the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth now.

“If that’s what it takes,” he replies easily. Because the sound of her laughing, even just a little, feels worth making a fool of himself for. 

“You’re not staying here tonight.” Hyunwoo says it while pulling open a drawer that’s already half-empty, like the decision has been made somewhere between showing up and stepping inside the apartment.

“I’m not planning to,” ___ replies, folding a sweater with more focus than necessary before placing it into the open bag on the bed. The place still doesn’t feel like hers right now, even with the police tape gone, even with everything technically “cleared.”

Arin moves around more carefully, picking things up, setting them down, like she’s aware of the shift in the space without saying it out loud. “Still creepy,” she mutters under her breath, glancing briefly toward the front door before turning back.

“It’s fine,” ___ says automatically. “It’s not,” Hyunwoo counters just as quickly, not even looking at her as he checks another drawer. “Someone broke in. That’s not something you just call ‘fine’ and move on from.”

She doesn’t argue. Instead, she zips one section of the bag closed and reaches for something else, keeping her hands busy so she doesn’t have to think too much about the fact that they’re right.

“So,” Arin says after a moment, her tone shifting just slightly, lighter but not careless, “this guy you’re staying with…” ___ exhales quietly. “Arin-”

“I’m just asking,” she insists, though there’s a small smile tugging at her lips. “We’re packing your life into a bag, I feel like I deserve a little context.”

Hyunwoo snorts faintly at that. “Yeah, at least tell us if we need to be worried.” “There’s nothing to worry about,” ___ replies, a little more firmly this time, though she still doesn’t look at either of them.

“That’s not an answer,” Hyunwoo says, finally turning to face her, leaning back against the dresser. “That’s you avoiding the question.” She pauses for a second, a shirt still in her hands, before folding it a little more slowly than necessary.

“I’m staying somewhere safe,” she says finally. Arin tilts her head slightly. “With someone.” Hyunwoo watches her for a second, something more protective than teasing settling into his expression. “Do you trust him?” he asks.

She nods simply with no hesitation. Arin notices immediately, exchanging a quick glance with Hyunwoo before looking back at her. “And you’re… comfortable there?” she asks, softer now.

___ hesitates for half a second, not because the answer is no, but because she hasn’t fully said it out loud yet. “I’m staying in the guest room,” she says instead. “He just… didn’t make it complicated,” she says finally.

Hyunwoo frowns slightly at that. “Meaning?” “Meaning he didn’t ask questions I didn’t want to answer,” she explains, quieter now. “He just made sure I had somewhere to stay.”

Arin’s expression softens at that, understanding settling in a little more clearly now. “I’m liking this guy already and he gave you his credit card, should we buy something ridiculous, like lingerie?” she teases as she reaches over for the card, ___ swats her hand away.

“It’s for groceries” Arin gasps softly, pulling her hand back like she’s been personally offended. “That’s such a waste of potential.”

“He just-” she starts, then pauses, the memory catching up with her a little more clearly now, and before she can stop herself, a small laugh slips out.

“He said…” she starts, already smiling a little, “he said, ‘let oppa take care of you.’” Arin freezes, completely, her mouth actually falls open as she stares at ___ like she’s just been handed life-changing information. “He did not.”

“He did,” ___ says, covering her face briefly with one hand, “And he was so serious about it too, like-” She drops her hand and, without even realizing it, mimics his tone just slightly, softer, lower, “-‘just take it.’”

Arin lets out a strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, grabbing onto the edge of the bed for support. “Oh my god, I love him.”

“You don’t even know him,” Hyunwoo cuts in, though there’s a hint of disbelief in his voice now. “I don’t need to,” Arin shoots back immediately. “That’s confidence. That’s commitment. That’s-” 

“That’s embarrassing,” Hyunwoo interrupts, shaking his head as he stands up straight. “Who actually says that in real life?”

___ is still laughing quietly, the tension from earlier softened now, her shoulders more relaxed than they’ve been since they walked in. “He said it like he meant it,” she admits, a little more softly this time.

“Is ___ okay?” Jimin asks the second Taehyung pushes the door open to the practice room, not even giving him the chance to step in properly before the question is out.

Taehyung pauses just inside, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, already looking like he’s had this conversation more times than he can count.

“Yes, she’s fine,” he says, a little too quickly, like he’s reciting something at this point. “It’s been a week, she’s told me she’s fine at least a hundred times, and she got irritated when I was about to ask her again over breakfast-so,” he adds, pointing briefly at Jimin like he’s setting a rule, “do not ask her if she’s fine.”

Jimin blinks. “…Okay,” he says slowly, holding his hands up slightly in surrender. “Noted.” From the corner, Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh, glancing up from where he’s been stretching. “You sound like you got scolded.”

“I did,” Taehyung replies without hesitation, dropping his bag and crouching down to re-tie his shoes like he needs something to do while saying it. “Apparently, asking someone if they’re fine every two hours does the opposite of helping.”

Jimin snorts. “Yeah, no way.” Namjoon shifts slightly, watching him with more curiosity now. “So what are you allowed to ask?” Taehyung tightens the knot on his laces, then straightens, thinking about it for a second longer than expected.

“…If she’s eaten,” he says finally. “That one’s still acceptable.” Jimin lets out a laugh at that. “Wow. You’ve been given a script.”

“Pretty much,” Taehyung replies, grabbing his water bottle. There’s a small pause before Jimin’s expression shifts again, something more playful creeping in. “So… she’s moved in?” he asks, clearly unable to help himself.

Jimin glances at Jungkook, then back at Taehyung, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You know, most people go on a first date before moving in together.”

“She’s not moved in,” Taehyung replies instantly, turning back just enough to correct it. “She’s staying. Temporarily.” “In your house.” “In the guest room,” he adds, like that detail matters.

“It does not help as much as you think it does,” Namjoon mutters. Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. “Nothing’s happening, okay? She just needed somewhere safe.”

Jimin watches him for a second, then nods slowly, the teasing easing just a little. “She just ran into oppa’s arms, how romantic” “I’m never telling you anything ever again” Jimin lets out a laugh at that, completely unbothered. 

Taehyung lets out a quiet huff at that, he wants the teasing to stop, but he also wants to confide in them. “I just-” he starts, then stops, like he doesn’t know how to phrase it without it sounding worse than it already does. “We haven’t even gone on a proper first date.”

Jungkook chokes on his water, “You’re kidding.” “And she’s staying at my place,” Taehyung adds, like that somehow makes it easy to explain.

Namjoon presses his lips together, clearly trying not to react too strongly. “That is… an unconventional order of events.” “That’s what I’m saying,” Taehyung mutters, running a hand through his hair again.

Jimin stares at him for another second, then breaks into a grin. “This is great,” he says, clearly entertained now. “You skipped all the easy parts and went straight to domestic life.”

“It’s not domestic,” Taehyung snaps back immediately. “She’s in the guest room.” “Ah, yes,” Jimin nods seriously. “Very professional. Roommates with emotional tension.”

“I hate you,” Taehyung mutters. Jimin grins wider. “No you don’t.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook cuts in from where he’s stretching, more focused than the others, his tone steady. “Just tell her how you feel. How do you feel?”

“At first, I thought it was just…” he pauses, searching, “seeing her again. You know? Like…someone you knew, someone you were close to, and you’re just glad they’re back.” Jungkook nods slightly, following.

He exhales, leaning back slightly, like he’s giving in to the fact that he has to say it properly. “I like her,” he says. Then, more honestly, “I like her a lot.” Taehyung huffs out a small breath, something almost like disbelief in it. “Now she’s in my house,” he says. “Sleeping in the guest room like we’re strangers trying to be polite, and I’m acting like this is normal.”

Jimin lets out a quiet laugh, softer this time. “That’s because you’re trying not to mess it up.”  “And that’s exactly why I’m not just saying something without thinking it through,” Taehyung adds, glancing between them. “Because it’s a delicate time for her, she needs me more as a friend”

Namjoon watches him for a second, then nods slowly. “Okay. Then be that.”

Jimin tilts his head, considering it, then shrugs lightly. “Yeah… just don’t get stuck there.” Taehyung frowns slightly. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Jimin says, a little more serious now, “don’t wait so long trying to do the right thing that you end up not doing anything at all.”

Taehyung smiles the second he steps inside, the familiar sight settling something in him almost instantly, her curled up against the sofa, the TV casting a soft glow across the room, the quiet no longer feeling empty the way it used to after long days.

He doesn’t just disappear into his room anymore.

“Hey.” She turns at the sound of his voice, shifting slightly as she looks over at him, “Hi.”

He steps further in, dropping a few things on the table, his eyes lingering on her for a second longer before he speaks again. “Why are you still up?”

She blinks at him, like the question doesn’t make any sense. “Because it’s eleven,” she says, a hint of amusement slipping into her tone as she sits up a little straighter. “I don’t work in the morning, and I’ve barely seen you all week.”

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks casually as she stands up, her dress falling by her ankles. “I haven’t, have you?” “I made something,” she adds, like it’s not a big deal, like it didn’t take any effort at all. “Just… something simple.”

He watches her for a second, a little caught off guard as she moves into the kitchen, already reaching for plates. This, when she’s getting dinner set up while he washes his hands, it’s these domestic fleeting moments, there have been too many of these over the last two weeks.

“I called my mom for the recipe,” she says, a little faster now, like she’s filling the space without thinking about it. “And I’m not a good cook, but I’m good at following instructions, so I figured that should count for something. And if it’s bad, we can just order food, it’s really not a big deal-”

Taehyung lets out a soft chuckle, cutting through her rambling just enough. “I’m sure it’s fine,” he says, glancing over at her as he dries his hands.

She looks at him like she doesn’t entirely believe that, but she doesn’t argue, just sets everything down and gestures toward the table. “Sit.”

“So, you have a couple days off, wanna do something fun?” ___ suggests as he serves the food for both of them, the tofu jjigae is exactly what he needed on a cold November night. 

“We could go for a run and grab breakfast-” “Hey, us normal people enjoy our day offs by sleeping in till afternoon, the words run and breakfast don’t exist for us” ___ interrupts as she serves the rice for them, filling his bowl a little too much. 

“What do you, normal people do then?” he teases her as she scoffs, quietly waiting for him to take a bite, he sighs with delight as he takes the first bite, that’s all the approval she needed.

“We watch movies,” she continues instead, like she’s getting back on track. “Or… there’s this winter wonderland thing happening nearby. Lights, food, all that festive stuff.” She pauses mid-bite, something clicking a second too late. “Wait,” she says, looking up at him properly now, “can you be out with me in public like that?”

The question hangs there, quieter than everything else. Taehyung doesn’t answer immediately, finishing his bite before setting his spoon down, like he’s actually thinking it through rather than brushing it off.

“I can,” he says finally, calm, steady. “We’ll just have to be a bit careful.” She studies him for a second, like she’s trying to figure out what careful actually means for him.

“For you,” she says slowly, “or for me?” He meets her gaze without hesitation. “For both of us,” he replies.

“Other stuff us normal people do is apply for jobs, you don’t even know what Linkedin is do you?” ___ accuses him with a serving spoon as he laughs packing away the leftovers. “I do, it’s like a professional instagram?”

She stares at him, how amazing must life be with no pressure of losing a job “…That might be the worst description of LinkedIn I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s not wrong,” he defends, sliding the lid onto a container. “You post achievements, people like it, you pretend everything’s going great, same concept.” “That is deeply concerning,” she mutters, shaking her head as she sets the spoon down. 

“Thank god you won’t ever have to apply for a job”, she narrows her eyes at him slightly. “That must be nice.” “It has its perks,” he admits, a little too casually.

She huffs at that, but there’s no real irritation behind it, just the faintest edge of disbelief. “Meanwhile, I’m out here tailoring resumes and writing cover letters like my life depends on it.”

He glances at her again, this time a little more attentive, the humor softening just slightly. “Do you want help?” he asks.

She pauses at that, like she wasn’t expecting it. “With what?” she asks, a little more cautiously. “Anything,” he shrugs. “Resumes, applications… or just complaining about it.” That earns a small laugh out of her.

“You helping me with a resume sounds like a disaster waiting to happen,” she says. “Wow,” he exhales, feigning offense. “No faith in me at all.”

“You just called LinkedIn a professional Instagram,” she shoots back as she moves closer to him.,“You set yourself up for that.” He smiles at that, shaking his head as he finishes putting things away. Closing the fridge to find her standing against the counter. 

“What do you think, a tattoo, bangs or getting my hair colored, which substance should I abuse?” ___ asks as they make their way to the theater. They’ve seen too many movies at home, so it was time to watch one in a theater. 

“Substance to abuse?” she gestures vaguely, a wide sweep of her hand that somehow manages to encompass the job, the apartment, the break-in, possibly the last three months of her life, "I need to do something. Anything. Something that feels like a decision I actually made."

She drops into her seat, the theater is quiet at this hour, midweek, nearly empty. Taehyung had booked the seats on either side of them without mentioning it, a detail she doesn't know and he has no intention of explaining.

"Or a piercing," she adds, like she just remembered it was an option. He settles into his seat beside her, stretching his legs out, already reaching for the popcorn she'd insisted on buying even though he'd tried to pay. "Where?"

She turns to look at him, a little surprised he asked instead of redirecting. "I don't know," she admits. "Somewhere that would make my mother cry a little. Nothing serious. Just enough."

The corner of his mouth moves. "Nose," he says. "You could pull it off." She blinks. "Yeah?" "Yeah." He says it simply, like it's obvious, already looking back toward the screen as the lights begin to dim. "You have the face for it."

She faces forward too, but something about the way she does it, the slight pause before she settles, suggests she's filing that away somewhere. "Bangs would be cute too," he adds quietly, in the dark.

“But all I remember is the last time you got bangs and how much you cried” he notes and ___ hits his arm a little, “I was 15, I didn’t know what kind of bangs would be right for my face, no one told me."

"I feel like the mirror told you." She hits his arm again. He's smiling now, she can see it in her periphery, the kind he tries to keep small and mostly fails at.

"They were very short," he says, like a man with no survival instinct whatsoever. "They were a mistake," she agrees, flatly. "One mistake. That I was very young for. And you're still bringing it up fourteen years later, which says a lot more about you than it does about me."

He finally looks at her then, and the smile has stopped pretending to be small. "You cried in the practice bathroom for forty minutes," he says. "Jihoon had to go get you."

"Jihoon didn't have to do anything, I was fine." "You made her stand outside the door."

"For moral support-" "For forty minutes."

She faces forward again, pulling her coat tighter across her lap with great finality. "I'm getting bangs," she announces. "Tomorrow. First thing."

"Okay," he says, reaching for the popcorn.

"And a tattoo." "Sure."

"And a piercing." "Nose," he confirms, like they've already agreed on this. Because they have. She doesn't say anything after that, but the corner of her mouth has done something she's hoping the dark is hiding. It isn't.

"One of the best feelings in the world is walking out of a movie theater," Taehyung shares as they push through the double doors, the cold air meeting them all at once. "You feel like a different person."

She considers this, their shoulders bumping lightly as they fall into step together, the corridor still emptying around them. He doesn't shift away. Neither does she. "What are some other good feelings for you?" she asks.

He doesn't answer immediately, which she's learned means he's actually thinking about it rather than reaching for the obvious. 

"The first hour back in Seoul after a long trip," he says finally. "When the car comes out of the tunnel and you can see the city properly. Every time, without fail." She hums, tucking her hands into her coat pockets.

"The specific silence right before a concert starts," he continues, more slowly now, like he's finding the words as he goes. "Sixty, seventy thousand people and somehow it's the quietest moment of the whole night." He pauses. "A really good first date”

She laughs at that, quiet and genuine. "That's a very specific list." "You asked." "I did," she agrees. Their shoulders bump again, the pavement narrowing slightly around a corner. "What else?"

He glances at her briefly, then back ahead. "Waking up and realizing you don't have anywhere to be," he adds finally.

The receipt comes through to his phone at 5 pm.

He's in the middle of a vocal warm-up when he sees it. One americano. From the exact coffee brand whose advertisements he had spent three days filming in October, his face currently on every cup sleeve in the country.

He stares at it for a second. Then he smiles, slowly, the way you smile at something you weren't expecting to find charming. There’s already a picture from her before he’s done typing. She has the cup sleeve close to her face.

___: Letting oppa take care of me

___: why is the coffee kinda bad

___: brand ambassador do something

He laughs, quietly, to himself, in the middle of the practice room. Hoseok glances over from across the room and decides not to ask.

Taehyung: I don’t even drink coffee

___: You’re a fraud, thank you for the coffee none the less

Taehyung: You’re welcome, how did the interview go?

He sends it and goes back to the warm-up, but he's already watching the screen from the corner of his eye. The three dots appear, disappear, appear again, which means she's rewriting it, which means there's more to the answer than she's deciding how much to give.

___: They gave me a part time role so something is better than nothing

___: what time do you get home? I might go out with friends for beer and chicken

Taehyung: Around 9ish, I might have friends coming over today

___: okay… should I just stay at Arin’s tonight?

Taehyung: Hyushik hyung was kinda looking forward to seeing you again

Taehyung: But you can come home or stay out, whatever you feel like doing

He reads it back. It's casual enough. Gives her the option without making it into something. Doesn't say come home the way he wants to, doesn't make it obvious that Hyunsik hadn't actually mentioned her today and that he'd brought him into this entirely unprompted as cover.

The three dots appear.

___: lol he barely knows me 

Taehyung: He held your hand for six minutes at my party 

Taehyung: He knows you well enough

___: okay, I will get home by 11

___: should I ask Mrs Lee to cook some dinner for you guys?

He stops mid warm-up. It's such a small thing, a completely reasonable, practical, thoughtful question that anyone might ask. And yet something about it, the casualness of it, the way she's already thinking about his evening while planning her own, the fact that she knows Mrs Lee's name and has her number and has somehow in the space of a few weeks become someone who asks questions like this, lands somewhere in his chest and just sits there.

Taehyung: I think we’ll be ordering, half of us don’t even eat dinner

___: That isn’t the healthiest, but okay, I’ll see you soon

___: Text me if you need me to pick up anything on my way

Taehyung: I will, see you

“See this is how you know a girl is living with you” Wooshik comments as he picks up the blanket from the sofa, “See” he points to the flowers in the vase by the dining table.

“I bought those” Taehyung comments as he walks to the kitchen to get them plates. “And these?” Seojoon talks in the background as he picks a plate of food from the dining table, "Hyung, don't touch that," Taehyung calls, already hearing movement near the dining table.

Too late. Seojoon has found the covered plate, lifting the cling wrap with the careful, investigative energy of someone who has stumbled onto something interesting. A sticky note is fixed to the top, neat handwriting, her handwriting, which Taehyung has gotten used to finding on things around the apartment.

Seojoon reads it aloud.

"Brownies. Real butter, real sugar, real consequences. Eat in case of emotional distress or late night cravings. You're welcome."

The room is quiet for exactly one second. Then Hyunsik, from the couch, lets out a long breath. "I like her."

"We all like her," Wooshik says, already reaching for a brownie with zero hesitation, press tour entirely unconsidered. He takes a bite. His expression shifts immediately into something bordering on reverent. "Taehyung-ah."

"I know," Taehyung says, setting plates down. "No," Wooshik says, holding the brownie up. "I mean she can actually bake" Taehyung quietly pockets the sticky note while setting the plates down. 

The dinner chaos has settled into the comfortable wreckage of a good evening. Pizza boxes stacked unevenly on the coffee table, sushi containers pushed to one side, someone's ramen half finished and abandoned. Hyunsik has claimed the armchair entirely, legs draped over the side, a brownie in one hand and his phone in the other.

"Okay so flights," Hyunsik says, squinting at his screen. "If we leave Thursday we get two full days before the weekend hits and everything gets crowded."

"Thursday is tight," Wooshik says. "I have something in the morning." "How long is something?" "Two, three hours."

"So Thursday afternoon," Seojoon says, with the calm finality of someone who has been solving logistical arguments between the same people for years. "Thursday afternoon," Hyunsik agrees, already typing. "Taehyung-ah, you're good from Thursday?"

"I'm good from Thursday," Taehyung confirms, leaning back against the sofa, more relaxed than he's been all week.

They've been going around like this for twenty minutes, the comfortable, unhurried momentum of a plan that's mostly already made but enjoyable to keep discussing anyway, when Taehyung hears it. The soft beep of the elevator. The quiet click of the front door.

“I’m just… I’ll be back” Taehyung mutters when he can sense her taking too long with her boots. He’s amused by what he finds, ___ struggling with her boots as she’s bent over. “Need some help?” he asks as he’s already bending over. 

"Oppa," she says, against his shoulder. He pauses, she's never called him that before, not seriously, not outside of the joke he'd made about the credit card. Something about it, quiet and unguarded and slightly slurred, lands somewhere he doesn't immediately examine.

"I am drunk drunk," she continues, with great solemnity. "Like, genuinely. I don't think my legs are working properly." A pause. "Should I just sleep here?"

"On the floor," he says. "It looks comfortable."

"It's not." "You don't know that."

"I do know that." He gets the second boot free and straightens, finding her head still against his shoulder, apparently unconcerned by the change in angle. He looks down at her, the top of her head, the loosened hair, the coat that's half fallen off one shoulder. She is, as she has accurately reported, drunk drunk.

He smiles, widely, in a way he's glad she can't currently see. "Come on," he says.

"I'm serious, the floor-" "You're not sleeping on the floor."

"Just for a few minutes-" "___-ah." He straightens up properly, and she makes a small noise of protest as her head loses its resting place. He takes her coat the rest of the way off her shoulders, hanging it by the door, then turns back and offers his hands with the patient expression of a man with nowhere else to be. "Come on."

She holds his arm instead, both hands wrapping around it, her grip slightly tighter than strictly necessary. "You're very tall," she observes, as they start moving.

"I'm the same height I've always been." "It's more noticeable right now," she says. "Everything is more noticeable right now."

He says nothing to that, just keeps them moving at a pace she can manage, which is slow, but steady. From the living room, he can hear the conversation continuing, someone laughing at something, the comfortable noise of an evening still going without him. 

There are rules to this living situation that she’s made for herself. Unspoken, but still very much there. Number one being don’t go into his bedroom. Everything between them has stayed carefully within shared spaces, the kitchen, the living room, places that don’t blur lines too much. They haven’t even stepped into his office, let alone this.

She knocks, expecting him to not answer when the door pushes on itself, not having been closed properly. Taehyung looks up from his phone, seeing her frozen by the door.

Taehyung looks up from his phone, the movement catching his attention instantly, only to find her standing there, still, like she’s unsure whether she should step in or back out. For a second, neither of them says anything.

“I didn’t mean to just disappear earlier,” she says finally, breaking the silence, her voice softer here than it usually is, like the room itself demands it. “I thought I’d come say hi but you guys were already gone.”

“It’s fine,” he replies easily, sitting up a little straighter. “They left a while ago.” She nods, though she doesn’t move further in immediately, her fingers tugging absentmindedly at the sleeve of her sweater before she finally steps inside, the door pushing a little more open behind her.

“I just didn’t want to seem rude,” she adds. “You weren’t,” he says, watching her a little more closely now as she walks closer. She exhales, something in her easing just slightly, and then, almost casually, she stretches, arms lifting above her head, back arching just enough, the sweater shifting with the movement. 

Just enough to reveal it. Subtle, intentional, but his eyes are fixed on her face as she walks even closer, stopping just an arms distance from him while he sits against the headboard. 

Taehyung’s still looking at her, but not there, not catching it the way she expected him to. Her lips press together, a flicker of frustration crossing her face before she tries again, shifting slightly, adjusting the sweater just enough,

Still nothing. “…Are you serious?” she mutters under her breath.

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused. She stares at him for a second, then gestures vaguely toward herself. “You’re not noticing anything?”

His brows knit together slightly as he looks at her again, more deliberately this time, like he’s trying to figure out what he missed. “…No?”

She lets out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head before finally just giving in, tugging the hem of her sweater up slightly. “I got a piercing” His gaze follows her face, he’s still confused when she lifts her sweater even further, the two dainty diamonds now more clear than ever. 

His expression changes almost immediately, confusion giving way to something quieter, more focused, his gaze dropping and staying there this time, like now that he sees it, he can’t quite look anywhere else.

“…Oh,” he says, slower now, like he’s catching up all at once. She lowers the sweater just slightly, not all the way, watching him this time instead of the other way around, her earlier frustration easing into something more curious, more aware of the shift she just caused.

“Took you long enough,” she mutters, though there’s no real bite to it. “I didn’t expect you to just-” he starts, then stops, exhaling softly as he shakes his head, his attention still not fully leaving.

“You didn’t expect me to what?” she presses, a faint challenge in her tone. “Walk in and casually show me that,” he finishes, his voice lower now, more measured in a way that wasn’t there a second ago.

“I didn’t casually show you,” she argues, though she knows exactly what she did. “You just weren’t paying attention.” “I am now,” he replies, almost without thinking.

His gaze flickers up to her face briefly, then back down again, like it’s taking effort to pull it away at all, like the room has narrowed in a way neither of them is acknowledging out loud.

“Does it-” he starts, then hesitates, like he’s choosing his words more carefully than usual, but his hands aren’t as causal as they circle her waist, holding up the sweater for her “does it hurt?”

“Not really,” she says, her voice softer now, the earlier teasing changed to something more shy. “It did for a second, but it’s fine.”

He nods, almost absently, like he’s listening but not fully processing the answer, his attention still caught somewhere between what she’s showing him and the fact that she’s standing this close in his room of all places.

She swallows lightly, her fingers tightening just slightly at the edge of her sweater, like she’s aware of how close this is now, how different it feels standing here compared to every other space they’ve carefully stayed within. How warm his hands feel, how his fingers move every now and then sending electric shocks through her.

“I thought it was going to be a nose piercing?” Taehyung finally speaks up as he looks straight at her, “I barely have a job, I don’t want to become harder to hire-” she’s startled when he softly pulls her even closer, his hands moving from the sides of her waist to the small of her back.

“Well,” he says, quieter than before, like the words are coming out without much thought, his gaze still fixed on her waist, “it… looks really good.” 

Her fingers hover for a second before settling lightly against his arm, like she needs something to ground herself in the moment, like she’s not entirely sure what to do with the way this feels now.

“Yeah?” she asks, softer than before, something more uncertain threading through it. He nods once, slower this time, his hands still where they are, steady, like he hasn’t realized he hasn’t let go. “Yeah.”

“When do you leave for Hawaii?” ___ asks, taking in a sharp breath as she moves away, his hands dropping immediately as he realises what they’ve done, the boundary he’s crossed. 

“Um…next thursday, I should be back in a week” Taehyung answers as he straightens himself, he watches as she takes another step away, regretting the invasive touch now. “You okay to stay all by yourself?” he asks when she just nods, her eyes briefly flickering to the bed, right where she was the last time she was in this room.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll probably visit my parents and explain the whole thing, I just need to be ready for the lecture” “I should-” she starts again, gesturing vaguely toward the door.

“Yeah,” he nods, sitting back in his bed comfortably. She lingers for half a second longer, like she might say something else. But she doesn’t. “Goodnight,” she says instead. “Goodnight.”

___ moves through the morning routine without thinking about it. 

The kettle. The lemon, halved on the chopping board. The honey jar that she'd moved to the left side of the counter two weeks ago because it was easier to reach from that side, and that Taehyung had never moved back, had just quietly started reaching left for it too.

She's already squeezing the second lemon before she registers what she's doing.

Two mugs. Both of them. Side by side on the counter, the same way she'd set them every morning. She stands there with the lemon in her hand and looks at the second mug for a moment. He's somewhere over the Pacific right now. Or past it. She isn't sure of the exact time he reaches Hawaii.

She puts the lemon down, and doesn't move the mug. Just pours her own and leaves his sitting there, empty, which is somehow worse than if she'd just put it away.

She's on the sofa, both hands around her cup, when she hears Mrs Lee's key in the door. "You're up early," Mrs Lee observes, stepping in and taking in the scene with the quiet efficiency of someone who notices everything and comments selectively.

"Couldn't sleep in," ___ says, which is true enough. Mrs Lee moves into the kitchen, and ___ hears the familiar sounds of her beginning to work, the soft clink of things being organized, the tap running briefly. Then a pause, just long enough to be meaningful.

"He asked me to make sure you eat properly while he's away," she says, in the same tone she might use to report that the groceries had been restocked or that the dry cleaning was back. Completely matter of fact. Like it's simply information.

___ looks up at her. "Left a note," Mrs Lee continues, moving back into the kitchen. "With a list. Your preferences." A small pause, the sound of the refrigerator opening. "He was very specific."

She sits with that for a moment.  "He didn't mention it," ___ says, not quite to Mrs Lee, not quite to herself.

"No," Mrs Lee agrees, from the kitchen, the sound of something being set on the counter. "I don't think he meant to make a fuss of it." A brief pause, as Mrs Lee thinks about what she’s about to say, "He's been different, you know. Since you moved in."

___ doesn't say anything, just turns her mug slightly in her hands.

"I've worked for him for two years," Mrs Lee continues, her voice carrying through from the kitchen, the tone of someone sharing an observation rather than making a point. "He kept strange hours. Very late nights, very late mornings, sometimes I'd come in and he hadn't slept at all." She pauses. "You can tell when someone isn't sleeping properly. It stays on their face."

The refrigerator closes. "He’s been waking up before I arrive, most days. Eating breakfast." A small beat. "Real breakfast." ___ looks at the empty mug on the counter.

"I didn't do anything," she says quietly. "I just make the lemon water in the mornings." "Mm," Mrs Lee says, in the particular tone of someone who finds that response both accurate and entirely beside the point.

She appears in the doorway again, wiping her hands on a cloth, looking at ___ with the warm, level expression of a woman who has seen a great many things in a great many households and knows exactly what she's looking at.

"He has someone to come home to," she says simply. "That's not a small thing." ___ doesn't answer. She looks out at the picturesque view,, her hands still around her mug. The second mug sits empty on the counter behind her.

‌Before dating, you both were already friends

‌So looking at you both is just like seeing two best friends having fun around each other

‌And honestly, that might be the cutest thing of your relationship

‌He is currently taking you on random dates

‌"There is this place where you can take care of ducks. We should go there"

‌Okay??

‌He truly just sees anything and he's like "oh I should go there with my partner"

‌Just because wherever he goes he needs you by his side

‌That leads me to my next point

‌He always includes you

‌In conversations, no matter with whom, he'd always say "we"

‌Someone randomly says "taehyung, would you like to go to this new cafe" and he's like "We would love to go"

‌Because he's always including you

‌Since he started dating you it's never simply "I", it's always "we"

‌And if you both go to some place where there is live music

‌Like a restaurant or you were just walking down the street and someone is playing guitar there

‌Be ready because he will call you to dance

‌Always with a knowing/teasing smile, he will hold your hand and just starts slow dancing with you

‌"But what about the people watching" nah he's not thinking about it

‌He's only thinking that if he has any opportunity to have you close, he will have you close

‌Also sings to you randomly

‌If we're talking about a scenario where he's an idol, he would like to keep the relationship private

‌He doesn't think the world should have a place in your relationship. This is about the two of you only, and it should stay like this

‌He'd only want to make the relationship public the moment you get married, because then he'd need to explain the sudden ring on his hand

‌But he sets boundaries very quickly. Not the fans, not the media, not the company, NO ONE will dare to put themselves between the two of you

‌You become the topic of his songwriting

‌Makes a whole album for you fr fr

‌If you allow him, he'd put one of your voicemails in the song. It becomes his favourite song

‌TAKES PICTURES OF YOU

‌He has like a few albums of photos of all these pictures (there are a lot of them)

‌This guy is a kisser

‌You will be kissed every day every hour, be prepared

‌Gives you a lot of hand made gifts as well

‌And gifts for no reason at all, he just wanna cherish you just because

‌He also gives you flowers

‌And takes you to meet his family the moment the opportunity arises!!

‌He can't wait to see you with the people he loves the most

‌And he's also incredibly happy when you're with the boys

‌Although I have this feelings that he would take you to meet the most important people to him the moment you become his crush

‌Silence with him is very... Comfortable

‌There is no need to fill the silence, it's not awkward

‌I feel like you can just turn his brain off with him and simply enjoy

‌This is just a very fresh relationship you know

‌His love is kinda like a sunny day

‌It's bright, warm, it makes you happy...

‌And it's also simple

‌You never have to overthink around him

‌His love also heals your inner child

‌Loves when you visit him at work

‌The boys are never able to tease him because he doesn't care lmao, he's just happy you're there

‌He also LOVES when you call him "my boyfriend"

‌He's just so proud of it lol

‌And if you call him "my husband", he's ready to risk it all and just propose to you on the spot

‌Talking about that lmao

‌I feel like he'd be the fastest of the boys to get married

‌Six months into the relationship and he already bought a ring

‌He's just waiting for you to be ready

Masterlist I you'll probably like: what their love feels like

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @sheraayasherrecs

It was a simple concept. Na PD had a small group of well known individuals from South Korea find their way in running a Korean cuisine restaurant in a location where you probably couldn’t have found any authentic Korean food otherwise.

Actors, actresses, and sometimes a k-pop idol were suddenly navigating customer service, food, money, and a language barrier as they introduce locals to their home cooked foods.

México was a gamble that became a huge success, allowing Na to launch season two in Iceland! Familiar faces, same concept, and one new guest filled the season with winter weather and warm delicious food.

You had seen both seasons, loving every second and looking forward to whatever came next for the team and production crew. You had been lucky enough to be on one of Na’s other shows, a big fan of his work for a while now, and even more of a fan of his silly games. And the time you got to film under Na’s production was absolutely fun, your personality shining through out as you got along with the friendly producer.

So, it really shouldn’t come as a shock when he sends for you, inviting you to his season three cast. You had met Seojoon in passing, the only one you were somewhat familiar with and it weirdly gave you comfort that you’d recognize at least one person in the project.

And with that thought, you happily accepted.

Nothing prepares you two months later to be sitting across him. Kim Taehyung is back from the military and reprising his role on the team for season three with charming smiles. He’s more gorgeous in person, you had only really ever seeing the idol on billboards and magazines, but now he’s sitting across from you in a soft light corner of a restaurant as Na PD debriefed the plans for season three of Jinny’s kitchen.

Yumi is happy to have another female on staff with her, she huddles close to you, talking enthusiastically that she is almost successful in distracting you from Taehyung but not quite. You can feel his eyes keep flickering over to you, his gaze burning over you until you feel warm under your simple cardigan and slip dress.

It’s two hours of drinks, food, and introductions as you give the group a smile that dazzles. “Thank you for this opportunity, I hope to work hard for you all!” You are still coming to terms with the fact that you were about to be with these people for the next month in a foreign location, but with everyone matching your smiles you’re more excited than nervous by the end of the night.

And it’s when you’re hugging Yumi good bye that you notice him again. Taehyung has his hands in his pockets, standing just off to the side that you almost miss him. His long sleeve shirt hugs his bigger frame, the service in the military shaping his muscles to be more defined against the thin material, and you’re wondering what he’s doing. His head is tilted back, eyes trained up to look at the stars in the night sky, and he distracts you so much you don’t realize it’s just the two of you, until his gaze flits towards you, catching you red-handed in staring at him.

The restaurant is closed, everyone’s left, and you’re about to turn and leave in embarrassment when he speaks up. “I didn’t get the chance to properly introduce myself,” he hums and his entire body faces you. His eyes meet yours and root you in place while his lips curve up into another charming grin, his hand reaching out for yours.

It’s so simple, so ordinary, but your eyes stare at his out-reached hand with a held breath. You’re not sure why, but you have the strangest feeling that your world is about to flip completely upside down the moment you take his hand.

And when your hand eventually slips into his, he holds you like he never plans to let you go. He holds your hand firmly while invading your space, stepping closer until you have to look up at him to meet his chocolate brown eyes. It’s then, that you see the way his pupils dilate, his gaze flickering down to your lips and then back up. His smile grows into one of amusement, he looks like he knows something you don’t and you’re almost flushed against his body by this point. “My name is Kim Taehyung, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

-

"Ow! What the hell!" he pouted.

Taehyung chuckled, sitting up in his seat and leaning forward to look at his friend.

"You're just jealous you don't have a friendship like me and Y/n," Taehyung taunted playfully. Jungkook snorted.

"The only thing I'm jealous about is that you get to feel Y/n's breasts-"

"Okay! That's enough," Seokjin interjected, placing his hand over Jungkook's face and pushing him away so he lay back on the couch. Jungkook struggled against Seokjin's grip, eventually pushing his hand away, exhaling dramatically.

"I could have died, Seokjin!" Jungkook scowled.

"Please, if anything, you're nose is slightly flatter now," Seokjin waved him off.

The older man's gaze shifted to you and Taehyung, both of you stifling your laughs.

"Kook does have a point, though," Seokjin continued, stopping your laughter. "His implication of 'can you two stop being so gross' means stop acting like a cute couple."

You choked on your own saliva at his comment, coughing loudly, hunching over. Taehyung rubbed your back, patting it every now and then to help.

"Excuse me?" you coughed out, looking between the two men.

"You guys act more like a couple than most of the couples in our group," Jungkook pointed out, raising his eyebrows.

"Which brings me to my second point. Didn't you guys say when you were kids, you'd agree to marry if you were both single by twenty-eight?" Seokjin questioned.

"I completely forgot about that," Taehyung mumbled.

"Yeah, me too," you confessed.

Though it was a lie. Both of you remembered, too scared to bring it up. You had pinky swore that you would marry one another at twenty-eight if you hadn't found someone else.

Neither of you realised, though, that you had been holding out for each other the whole time.

You couldn't think of anyone else you'd rather spend your life with than your best friend. He was there for you whenever you needed him, and when you fought, you would both admit your mistakes and make up.

You didn't know you had developed feelings for him until recently. Thinking that the butterflies that danced in your stomach when he'd show up unannounced, holding pizza and soft drinks, were normal. Something that just happened between friends who loved each other so dearly.

Or how he would hold you when you cried, often doubting yourself and feeling as though you were falling behind in life, in comparison to the rest of your friends.

Taehyung thought differently. Ever since you were kids, Taehyung knew he didn't want anyone else. All the late nights, calling, cuddling up to one another during movie marathons, and lying on the couch together in silence. It was peaceful. It was something Taehyung yearned for.

He wanted nothing more than to always be by your side. Waking up with you next to him, the sun rays shining through the cracks in the blinds and hitting your radiant skin. He couldn't help but let his mind wander to a future he could have with you. Yet, not knowing how you felt, he would never bring it up, scared he would drive you away.

"Well, looks like we're getting married, Tae," you beamed looking over your shoulder to him, eyes shining with excitement.

Taehyung's heart fluttered at the nickname. He had heard it a thousand times from his friends. But with you, it was always different. Your voice was always angelic to him, his name sounding perfect when it fell from your lips.

"It seems so, but at least let me propose properly," Taehyung teased.

You hummed, nodding in approval at his request. In that moment, Taehyung understood that when he proposed, he would finally confess his feelings. After all the years of yearning for you, he was determined to express himself. He wanted you to know that this marriage held significance for him, even if it didn’t mean the same for you. That was a promise he made to himself.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Taehyung stood at your door, holding flowers for you, and in his pocket sat a small box, encasing a silver ring. He had dressed up for the occasion, palms sweaty as he waited for you to open the door.

You swung the door open, smiling brightly at your friend. He was wearing a beige suit, with the jacket slung over his right shoulder. He held a beautiful arrangement of lilacs and primroses, smiling shyly.

"Hi," you breathed, opening the door further.

You wore a simple sage dress, which stopped at your ankles. Cream open-toe heels complemented the dress, simple yet beautiful. Taehyung entered, handing you the flowers as he passed.

"Hey," he attempted to sound casual.

"Look at you," you teased, playing with his brown tie. "You tidy up nicely."

"Not too bad yourself," Taehyung shot back.

You pouted, but giggled. Moving into your kitchen, you had a vase prepared on the countertop. Removing the string that held the flowers together, you carefully placed each stem into the cool water one at a time, being careful not to ruin the display.

Taehyung waited, his heart racing, thinking of every possible way this could go. What if he confesses and you decide that marrying him is a bad idea? Or that you'll laugh at him.

The sweat in his palms worsened, and he ran his hand through his hair as his nerves increased. You returned at that moment, vase in hand. You placed it down onto the coffee table, beaming at him.

Taehyung's heart melted at the sight of you. You were simply breathtaking. Your smile, your eyes, everything about you was perfect. He coughed, then proceeded to pull his trouser leg up slightly and get down on one knee.

You played along, feigning a gasp. You laughed, watching as he took your hands in his. Taehyung's face suddenly became serious, which you took notice of immediately.

Your expression softened, and you gently ran your hand through his hair comfortingly. You had no clue what had suddenly made him so serious; it confused you.

"We don't need to do the big theatrics, Tae," you soothed.

"I want to. I need to," Taehyung breathed.

You stood, waiting for him to continue.

"Y/n. I understand that if I say this, it could quite possibly ruin our friendship forever. But I know if I don't do this, I will never forgive myself."

You grew worried at his words, quickly wanting to speak, but Taehyung held his hand up.

"Please. Just let me say what I need to say, then you can decide from there."

Taehyung paused, trying to calm his breathing. But he knew if he didn't speak now, he never would.

"Y/n, I have known you since we were five years old. Our friendship has meant everything to me, and it still means just as much. But I must confess..."

You waited, but he didn't say anything. Kneeling down to his height, you lifted his head so he would look at you. Tears ran down his face, making your heart break. You caressed his cheeks, wiping his tears away and giving him a reassuring smile. Taehyung let out a shaky breath.

"I have loved you from the day we first met. I knew I didn't want anyone but you to be by my side, to be my forever."

You moved to sit down cross-legged, stunned. You watched him with wide eyes as he sniffled, before continuing.

"When we made this deal, to marry if we were both still single, I made sure I wouldn't be with anyone, because waiting for you, no matter how long... I know it will be worth every second of the future we would have together."

You began to cry at his confession. You couldn't understand how it had taken you so long to realise his feelings. You felt guilty for having made him wait all these years, so that the only time he felt as if he could properly confess was during a deal you made when you were five.

"I want nothing more than for you to be happy, Y/n. And I want to be the man in your life who provides you with that happiness. I want to be able to hold you when you're sad. Kiss you when you need reassurance. You are all I want, and all I could ever want, no one else but you."

Taehyung felt as if he could finally breathe, eyes downcast to the floor. He did not dare look at you, scared of your reaction. Silently, you wiped away your tears and stood up. He sighed, knowing he had now ruined everything.

"Well, are you going to propose or not?"

Taehyung looked up at you, shock evident. Your eyes were glassy with tears, but you smiled. He mimicked your expression, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small black velvet box.

"Y/n. Will you do the honour of being my wife?"

"Fucking hell, yes," you choked out.

Taehyung stood pulling you in to him by the waist, not wasting a moment to press his lips against yours. It was soft and gentle, but it had so much love and passion.

You both laughed into the kiss, tears still continuing to roll down as you embraced each other. Pulling away, you rested your head against him. He hummed lightly, the vibrations in his chest relaxing you.

"I love you, too, Tae. I always have," you confessed.

"Well, now we must feel really stupid having waited twenty-three years," Taehyung joked.

You laughed, looking up into his eyes, which held so much love.

"It's alright, we'll have plenty of time to make up for those lost years."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

ahhhh!! thank you so much for requesting this! I felt if I wrote too much about their obliviousness, it would begin to be a bit familiar to the jungkook one I wrote.

i really hope you enjoyed and I also hope this is along the lines that you were looking for! I did want to make this a little shorter as I tend to go off rambling! so I do hope this has been to your liking!!

and honey, please don't apologise for your english, it's perfect! better than me I must say, I can barely function as it is haha <3

i do also want to apologise for not uploading over the weekend, I was away at a wedding so I was away from my pc!

if you've made it this far please take a look at my other works. or you're interested in making a request please look at the links below!

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