#v masterlist

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.

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 😏

It’s just past six in the morning when Taehyung gets back. The flight had been long, the kind that leaves everything feeling slightly out of sync, his body tired but his mind still catching up. He moves through the apartment quietly, more out of habit than necessity, setting his bag down near the door as he exhales softly.

He mindlessly makes his way to his room, not particularly quiet as he steps in. Continues to remove all the extra layers of clothing from him, he walks over to his bed stand to drop his phone when he notices it, her.

Just stands there, taking it in like he’s not entirely sure he’s seeing it right. The duvet pulled around her, her face half-buried into it, like she’s settled into something that feels safe enough to let go.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his gaze lingering on her, his hand lifts almost instinctively, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch waking her up. 

You’re here?” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she pushes herself up, the duvet slipping down around her waist. “Yes, got home a few minutes ago,” he says quietly, watching her carefully, like he doesn’t want to startle her out of this softness.

She doesn’t respond right away. She just looks at him, really looks at him, something shifting in her expression as the last of the haze clears. “I wasn’t supposed to be here,” she admits, almost under her breath, like she’s remembering it too late. “I was just going to come back for a bit and then-”

She stops herself, shaking her head faintly, like none of that matters anymore.

Before he can say anything, her hands act before her brain can. Her arms wrap around him suddenly, tightly, like she’s been holding it in for too long, like she doesn’t trust herself to say it without doing this first. 

“I missed you,” she says into his shoulder, the words muffled but unmistakable, her grip tightening slightly as if that alone could make up for the days he was gone. “I missed you so much.”

There’s no hesitation in it, no overthinking, just everything she didn’t say before. He exhales slowly, one hand settling at her back, pressing her a little closer without thinking, the other coming up to hold her more securely.

“I missed you too,” he says quietly, she pulls back just enough to look at him, her hands still gripping his shirt, like she hasn’t fully let go yet. There’s something unguarded in her expression now, something she hasn’t tried to hide.

And then she leans in, this time, there’s no hesitation. Her lips find his with a kind of certainty that wasn’t there before, like the distance, the waiting, everything that’s been building finally has somewhere to go.

He responds just as quickly, like he’s been right on the edge of this for longer than he admitted, his hand moving back to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepens, not rushed, not overwhelming, just… sure.

Her fingers curl slightly into his hair, holding on, anchoring herself to something real, something that isn’t going anywhere this time. 

“Hey…hey, we need to slow down,” ___ manages, the words barely forming in the brief second Taehyung pulls back for air, her hands still gripping onto him like she doesn’t fully mean it.

He lets out a quiet breath against her skin, but it turns into something closer to a laugh at what she just said, his forehead brushing lightly against her temple before he dips back down, his lips finding her neck again like he has no intention of listening.

“I think that’s a pretty stupid thing to say,” he murmurs, his voice low, amused in a way that feels entirely unfiltered, “coming from someone who’s supposed to be very smart.”

“Oppa” she tries again, though it loses whatever firmness it was supposed to have the second his hands settle more securely at her waist, pulling her closer instead of letting her create any distance.

“___ you can’t call me oppa and expect me to stop” There’s already a mark forming at the side of her neck, and he doesn’t seem to notice or maybe he does and just doesn’t care, something boyish and reckless slipping through in a way that doesn’t match the version of him everyone else sees.

It’s only been a few hours since he got back. Neither of them has slowed down long enough to process that.

“Wait-” she starts again, her breath uneven now, her fingers tightening slightly against his shoulder. The sound of the door unlocking cuts through everything. It’s quiet and unmistakable, it could be Mrs Lee. But the voices that follow make Taehyung freeze. 

“Haerin can you start putting the food away in the fridge, how does he even have groceries? And snacks?” Taehyung stands up mid panic, he knows that his mother is on the other side, probably going through his kitchen. 

___ goes still just as quickly, her grip on him loosening as she pulls back, her eyes widening slightly as the situation catches up to her all at once. There’s a split second where they just look at each other.

“Stay here,” he whispers quickly, though it’s unclear what that even means when they’re very clearly in the middle of his living room. 

“Where exactly?” she whispers back, incredulous, already putting on the t-shirt he discarded a few hours ago. The footsteps get closer, all they hear is, “He isn’t home is he?” Before Mrs Kim pushes the door open, they need to start locking the doors around here. 

His mother pauses first, Haerin right behind her. The silence that follows is immediate. 

Taehyung clears his throat, straightening slightly, though it does nothing to erase what was very obviously happening seconds ago. “You’re… early,” he says, like that’s the most pressing issue here.

Haerin’s gaze flicks between the two of them, taking in everything with far too much awareness, her expression already shifting into something dangerously amused. His mother, on the other hand, looks between them more carefully, her eyes lingering just a second longer than necessary before something knowing settles in.

“Well,” she says calmly, like she’s choosing not to make this worse than it already is, “we didn’t realize we were interrupting something.” ___ wants the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

Mrs. Kim quietly closes the door again, a little too quickly, like she’s decided that whatever she just walked in on is not something she needs to process immediately.

Haerin, on the other hand, is having the time of her life. “Go on,” she calls out from the other side of the door, her voice loud and entirely unbothered. “Continue whatever that was. We’re just dropping off some food.”

“Oh my god,” Taehyung whispers, dragging a hand through his already disheveled hair as reality crashes back in all at once. “My mom and my sister are here.”

___ is already pacing, her movements quick and restless, like she has too many thoughts and nowhere to put them. “Oh, she’s never going to like me now,” she says, half to herself, half to him, pressing her fingers to her temples before dropping them again. “Should I just disappear? Is there a window? I can leave through the window.”

“There is no window escape plan, we’re on the 20th floor” Taehyung mutters, barely managing to tie his robe properly, his hands not nearly as steady as he wants them to be.

“I can make one,” she insists, glancing around like she’s genuinely considering it. “This is so bad, Taehyung, this is the first time she’s seeing me and I’m-” she gestures vaguely at herself, at him, at the entire situation, unable to even finish the sentence.

He steps in front of her before she can spiral any further, catching her by the arms, not forceful, just enough to stop her pacing. “Hey,” he says, lowering his voice, trying to ground both of them at the same time. “You’re not disappearing out of my apartment like some criminal.”

“She walked in on us,” she whispers back, eyes wide, like that fact alone should explain everything.

“She walked in on us almost having sex” he corrects, running a hand over his face. There’s a brief pause where they just look at each other, the panic still there, but softened slightly by how ridiculous the situation actually is.

“I’ll just go out there,” he says after a second, like he’s deciding it in real time, straightening slightly as if that alone can fix this. “Take the teasing, act normal, and then we can just… come back and continue whatever we were doing.”

She stares at him. “Have you lost your mind Kim Taehyung?” she asks, incredulous, gesturing vaguely between them, at the room, at the situation that is very much beyond resumable.

“Mom, this is ___” Taehyung starts as ___ sits beside him, very still as she bows politely. “Oh this is ___? The friend who’s living with you?” Mrs Kim adds, she’s trying to ease the situation with the teasing, but it’s only making ___ more tense.

“Yes, friends, we used to train together-” “I’ve raised you better than this, introduce me to your girlfriend properly” Mrs Kim speaks to her son and ___ takes deep breaths, focused solely on her hands.

“Well we don’t know, girlfriend? I mean we only kissed for the first time this morning-” “Shut up,” ___ mutters immediately, mortified, hitting his arm without even looking at him.

Haerin lets out an unrestrained laugh from across the room, fully leaning into the back of the couch like this is the best thing she’s seen all week. Mrs. Kim sighs softly, though there’s no real disappointment in it, just a kind of knowing patience as she looks between the two of them.

“You,” Mrs Kim says, looking directly at Taehyung now, “are not helping.” “I gathered,” he mutters under his breath.

Her attention shifts back to ___, and this time, it’s softer, more intentional, like she’s choosing to take the pressure off. “You don’t have to look so nervous,” she says gently. “If anything, I should be apologizing for the way we walked in.”

___ looks up at that, just slightly, caught off guard. “I…no, it’s okay,” she says quickly, though her voice is still a little tight. “I’m really sorry about that, I didn’t mean to-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Mrs. Kim interrupts, her tone calm but certain. “That would be my son’s fault.”

“Hey,” Taehyung protests automatically. Haerin snorts. ___ blinks, then lets out a small, unexpected breath that almost turns into a laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction.

Mrs. Kim notices. “So,” she continues, like they’re having a completely normal conversation now, “you’ve been staying here for a while?”

___ nods, a little more composed now. “Yes, just temporarily. My place had some issues and he… offered to help.” Mrs. Kim hums softly, glancing at Taehyung for a brief second before looking back at her. “That sounds like him.”

“Mom,” Haerin suddenly cuts in, completely unable to leave a moment alone when it could be made worse, “___ was the one who picked out your birthday bag. And mine too.”

Taehyung’s head snaps toward her immediately, his glare sharp and immediate, like he’s trying to will her into silence through sheer force. Haerin doesn’t even flinch. If anything, she looks more pleased with herself. Mrs. Kim’s brows lift slightly, her attention shifting back to ___ with renewed interest. “Is that so?”

___ blinks, caught off guard, her gaze flickering briefly to Taehyung, who looks like he might actually get up and physically remove his sister from the room. “It was just-he asked for help,” she says quickly, trying to downplay it, her voice a little more careful now. “I didn’t really do much.”

“We always get better gifts when oppa has a girl in his life,” Haerin insists, leaning forward like she’s presenting undeniable evidence, completely ignoring the warning look being directed at her. “Remember that idol? The one who used to send us gifts from the brands she worked with?”

“Haerin,” Taehyung says, sharper this time. “What?” she shrugs, entirely unfazed. “I’m just saying, there’s a pattern.” “There isn’t a pattern,” he mutters, running a hand over his face, already regretting every decision that led to this exact moment.

Mrs. Kim sighs softly, though there’s more amusement than reprimand in it. “You really don’t know when to stop talking, do you?” “I do,” Haerin replies immediately. “I just choose not to.”

“I didn’t realize there was… a pattern,” ___ says lightly, though there’s a carefulness to it, like she’s testing the space she’s in. “There isn’t,” Taehyung says quickly, turning to her now, his tone more certain, more grounded than it’s been since they opened the door. “Ignore her.”

“She’s not entirely wrong,” Mrs. Kim adds calmly, and Taehyung groans under his breath. “Mom!”

“What?” Mrs Kim replies, glancing at him briefly before looking back at ___, her expression softening again. “It just means you have good taste. Both in gifts and…” she pauses, just slightly, “…other things.”

“Hey, where are you?” Taehyung talks over the phone as he sits down in the meeting room, another album music video discussion that just needs to happen. 

“I’m getting my hair cut” “Why, I thought you didn’t need bangs now?” Taehyung speaks softly and Jimin is quiet as he’s hearing it all. “Well I still need a haircut, and the stylist says that I have a forehead for bangs and I looked up your ex, she had bangs” ___ teases as she sits patiently, waiting for her turn.

Taehyung closes his eyes for a second. “I’m going to kill Haerin,” he mutters under his breath.

Jimin’s head lifts immediately, his attention locked in without even trying to hide it. “Not that I have a say in how you have your hair cut,” Taehyung says, his voice dropping a little, softer now, more personal despite the room around him, “but I like your long hair… like, a lot.”

There’s a quiet pause on the other end. “I know,” she replies, and he can hear the smile in it immediately, the kind that usually means she’s about to say something he won’t like. “The way you pull my-”

“Okay, ___, stop,” Taehyung cuts in quickly, pressing his lips together as he leans forward slightly, his hand coming up to cover part of his face as if that could somehow erase the very vivid memory that flashes through his mind anyway. “Just…send me a picture.”

Jimin turns his head fully now. “Oh?” she hums, clearly pleased with herself. “Should I let oppa take care of me then? Get the haircut that he wants?”

Taehyung exhales through his nose, already knowing he’s losing this. “Yes,” he says anyway, quieter now, like he’s giving in despite himself. “Please.”

Jimin lets out a small, incredulous laugh under his breath, leaning closer just enough to murmur, “You’re unbelievable.” Taehyung doesn’t even look at him. “I know,” he mutters.

On the other end, she laughs softly, satisfied, and for a second, despite the meeting room, the people, the noise, it feels like it’s just the two of them again.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll be nice.” “You’re never nice,” he replies automatically. “That’s not true,” she counters lightly. “I’m very nice to you, remember how I woke you up today morning”

He almost smiles at that. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You are.” There’s a brief pause before ___ speaks again, “I’ll send you a picture after,” she says.

“Do that.” “Bye, oppa.” “Don’t start that,” Taehyung mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. She laughs again, and then the line clicks off.

Taehyung lowers his phone slowly, setting it down on the table, his expression just a little too soft for someone about to sit through a meeting. Jimin doesn’t even try to hide it this time, he has opinions and Taehyung is going to hear about it. 

“Was ___ just talking dirty to you?” Jimin speaks up the second the team starts to file out, there’s a lot of work to be done, they spent an hour discussing it. “You were not exactly subtle,” Jimin shoots back immediately, standing up as well. “And then she said something, you panicked, told her to stop, and then asked for a picture.”

Taehyung pauses. “…That does sound bad when you say it like that.” “It sounds exactly like what it was,” Jimin says, falling into step beside him as they walk out. “Which brings me back to my original question.”

Taehyung glances at him. “Which was?” “Was your girlfriend talking dirty to you?” Jimin repeats himself, and Taehyung grumbles, not at the dirty talk part, the girlfriend part.

“Is she my girlfriend?” he mutters, more to himself than anything, though Jimin hears it anyway. “I’m too afraid to ask, and honestly I don’t want to ruin whatever this is by asking something stupid.” He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration and something softer tangled together. “You will not believe how she woke me up this morning.” 

“Taehyung if I learn more about your sex life, I am the one that’s going to kill you” Jimin speaks as he stands up, ready to leave as well.

“You’re not asking because you’re scared she’ll say no,” Jimin continues as they walk out together. Taehyung doesn’t answer immediately. “…No,” he admits after a second. “I’m scared she’ll say yes, and then I mess it up.”

“And right now,” Taehyung continues, slower now, like he’s working through it as he speaks, “it’s good. It’s… really good. I don’t want to put pressure on it and change that.”

Jimin nods once, understanding that more than he lets on. “Then don’t ask it like a question,” he says.

Taehyung frowns slightly. “What does that mean?” “It means,” Jimin continues, “you don’t sit her down and go ‘what are we.’ That never works.”

Taehyung lets out a quiet breath. “Then what do I do?” Jimin looks at him, like the answer is obvious. “You show her.”

Taehyung’s brows knit slightly. “A proper date,” Jimin says again, more deliberate now. “Not just hanging out at home, not routines, not convenience. Something intentional. Something that makes it clear this is not just… whatever you’ve been calling it.”

Taehyung goes quiet. “And if it already feels like more than that,” Jimin adds, softer now, “then the date won’t ruin it.” Jimin stops, pressing the elevator button, “It’ll just confirm it.”

Taehyung exhales slowly, his gaze drifting ahead as something in him settles, not fully, but enough. “A date,” he repeats.

Jimin nods. “Yeah.” Then, after a beat, “And for the love of ___, keep your mornings to yourself.”

“Hey, have you bought Haerin’s Christmas gift?” ___ asks as she walks in, spotting Taehyung already on the sofa. She leans in without thinking, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before dropping her bag by the door, like it’s something she’s done a hundred times now.

“Because I found the perfect thing for me,” she continues, already moving toward the kitchen, “and I think she’d really like it in black.” Taehyung watches her quietly, his expression unreadable, patient in a way that feels  intentional.

“Haerin isn’t getting a gift from me for the rest of her life,” he says flatly. ___ lets out a small laugh from the kitchen, already reaching for a glass. “Come on, this bag is perfect,” she insists, glancing back at him. “Don’t be petty.”

“I’m not being petty,” he replies. “I’m being strict.” “You’re being dramatic,” she corrects, taking a sip of water. “Buy her the bag.”

He doesn’t respond to that, just stands up as he makes his way back to her. “Get dressed,” he says.

She pauses mid-sip, lowering the glass slowly as she turns to look at him properly. “What?” “Friday night,” he adds, like that explains everything. “We’re going out.”

___ narrows her eyes slightly, leaning back against the counter. “Where?” “You’ll see.”

“That’s not reassuring,” she replies immediately. “You don’t get to just spring plans on me and expect blind trust.” He almost smiles at that, just a little. “Get dressed,” he repeats, softer this time. “Please.”

She studies him for a second longer, trying to read what he’s not saying, and whatever she finds there is enough to make her exhale quietly.

The drive to wherever they’re going to is quiet, Taehyung keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely with hers, his focus ahead, though there’s something in the way he’s quieter than usual. ___ glances at him a couple of times, trying to figure it out.

When they finally stop she looks out the window and freezes. “…No way,” she says under her breath.

Taehyung glances at her briefly, then back ahead as he parks. Outside, glowing softly under warm lights, is the small pizza place they used to go to when they were trainees.

The same one, unchanged. For a second, she just looks at it, like she’s not entirely sure it’s real. “I called the owner and we have the whole place to ourselves, for our first date” he adds as he turns the car off. 

“First date?” ___ questions as Taehyung undos his seatbelt. “Yes, we haven’t been on one, kissing in the morning after returning from a trip doesn’t count as a date. And I want to do this right” Taehyung confesses as he opens his door. ___’s frozen in her seat when he opens the door for her, offering his hand which she gladly accepts.  

“Oh I can’t believe we used to practice for hours after eating this, I can barely breathe now” ___ tells as she chews the last of her slice. Taehyung smiles widely from across her, “and we used to eat this often, so often” he adds as she sips on her coke.

“Yeah, Jihoon and I would keep suggesting this place, I don’t know why we’d do that?” “Because the seats here are ridiculously cramped,” Taehyung replies immediately, leaning back slightly, his gaze steady on her. “And you’re forced to sit close to whoever you’re with.”

She pauses mid-sip, slowly lowers the glass. “Oh,” she mumbles, it’s different when they’re across from each other like this, she’s seen him in the morning yet there are butterflies.

He just raises a brow slightly, like that should’ve been obvious. Her cheeks warm instantly, the realization hitting a little too late, a little too clearly. “I fought Jimin for the seat next to you a couple times”

She looks at him for a second longer than she means to before glancing away, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. There’s a comfortable pause after that, the kind that comes from shared history rather than the lack of things to say. 

They walk down the familiar hilly road slowly, not because they need to, but because neither of them is in a hurry to get to the end of it. The streetlights cast a soft golden glow over the pavement, the kind that makes everything look warmer than it actually is, and for a moment it feels like they’ve stepped into something suspended between then and now. The buildings are the same, the turns come exactly where she remembers them, and even the quiet feels familiar, like this place has been waiting for them to return to it like this.

___ pulls her coat a little closer around herself, her fingers brushing against his for a second before settling, not quite holding, but not moving away either. “It’s strange,” she says softly, her voice carrying easily in the stillness. “I thought this place would feel smaller somehow.”

Taehyung glances at her, his gaze lingering longer than necessary before drifting ahead again. “We just grew into it,” he replies, his tone calm. 

She looks at him at that, studying the way he walks now, the quiet confidence in it, the way he fills space without trying, and she realizes that he has changed in ways that go far beyond what she can see.

They slow as the convenience store comes into view. Neither of them says anything this time, they don’t need to. The overhang is still there, the narrow strip of shelter that once felt like the center of the world, and for a moment it feels almost surreal that something so small could have held something so important.

Taehyung steps forward first, like he knows exactly where he’s going, like he has replayed this in his head enough times that his body remembers it without effort. He stops in the exact same spot, the same place where he once stood as a boy who didn’t know what would come next but knew he had to say something anyway.

When he turns to face her now, the difference is undeniable. He isn’t that boy anymore. There’s something steadier in him, something quieter but far more certain, and yet his eyes haven't changed at all, something that makes her chest tighten in a way she hasn’t let herself feel in years.

“___ I remember the first day I saw you, you were dancing all by yourself after practice. I think you’re really really cool” Taehyung stops for a second, trying to recollect the exact same speech he gave to her years ago.

“And you’re so kind, and you have been such a great friend to me” Taehyung continues as his hands cradle her cheeks, softly wiping the tears away. “And I know this might ruin our friendship” he continues returning back to his boyish speech, which now he thinks he should have modified a bit.

“But…” he says, his voice quieting, his hands still steady against her face, holding her there like this moment matters too much to let slip away, “can I please be your boyfriend?”

The words settle between them gently, carried by the soft fall of the first snow, by the years that have passed, by everything they didn’t say and everything they are finally saying now.

“You didn’t change anything,” she whispers, her voice trembling, not with doubt, but with the overwhelming softness of it all. “I didn’t want to,” he replies, just as quietly, his thumbs still brushing away her tears, even as they keep falling.

That’s what undoes her completely, not just the words. But the fact that he chose to keep them, that he came back to give them to her again.

“Yes,” she says, and this time there is no hesitation, no second-guessing, no looking for the safer answer, her voice soft but steady, grounded in something she understands now in a way she didn’t before. “Yes!”

His breath leaves him slowly, like something he’s been holding onto for years finally loosens, finally settles. And when he leans in this time, there is nothing left unfinished between them.

She lets out a small, breathless laugh through the tears, shaking her head slightly, overwhelmed in a way that feels almost unfair. “You’re still not very eloquent,” she murmurs, her lips just a fraction away from his as she comes up for air

He huffs softly. “Who cares,” he says, his forehead dropping gently against hers, his hands still warm against her face, grounding her, keeping her right here with him. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

She stills for a second, her breath catching again, but this time it isn’t from the past or from what almost was, it’s from what is, from how easily he says it, how naturally it fits, like it was always meant to be this simple.

“Your girlfriend?” she repeats softly, like she’s testing it, like she’s letting it settle into something real. He pulls back just enough to look at her properly, his expression softer now, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against her cheek where her tears had been.

“Yeah,” he says, quieter this time, but somehow even more certain. “Mine.” A small smile breaks through her expression, the kind that reaches her eyes even as they’re still glassy from everything she just felt.

“That sounds a little possessive,” she teases, though there’s no resistance in it, no pushback, just something light, something that belongs to this version of them. “It is,” he admits without hesitation, and that makes her laugh again, softer this time, closer.

The snow continues to fall around them, settling into their hair, their coats, the space between them that no longer feels uncertain or unfinished. 

“Merry Christmas ___” Taehyung speaks softly into the phone as he closes the door behind him. They’re spending Christmas separately, Taehyung with his family and ___ with hers. 

“Merry Christmas baby” she replies, her voice just as soft, just as warm, and something about the way she says it makes his shoulders relax instantly, like this is the first quiet moment he’s had all day. He falls back into the bed, embarrassed by the love sick smile caused by the nickname. 

“What are you doing?” ___ asks as she slips off her slippers, needing to step outside for a moment.  “Nothing,” he says, though there’s a faint clatter in the background, like dishes being moved around. “Just escaped for a bit. My mom is trying to feed everyone like we haven’t eaten in weeks.”

She huffs out a quiet laugh. “Sounds familiar.” “Yeah?” he smiles into the phone. “What about you?”

“Just the same, my mom can’t really cook, so we ordered too much food, they’re watching tv” Taehyung lets out a quiet laugh at that, the sound softer now, more relaxed as he settles deeper into the bed, one arm tucked behind his head as if he’s trying to get comfortable in a space that suddenly feels a little too empty without her.

“I keep reaching out for you,” she admits after a moment, her voice quieter now, more honest than before. “Like when I’m sitting on the couch or something, I forget I’m not at your place.” His chest tightens slightly at that, something warm and aching all at once.

“Yeah,” he says, almost under his breath. “I keep thinking I’ll find you in the kitchen when I wake up.” She exhales softly, the sound almost like a laugh, but not quite. “We got used to that really fast.”

“We did,” he agrees. And neither of them sounds like they regret it.

There’s movement on her end, the faint sound of a car passing, distant voices, the world continuing around her while this small moment stays contained between them.

“What did you get?” she asks after a second, nudging the conversation back into something lighter.

“For Christmas?” he asks, though he already knows. “No, for your birthday,” she teases.

He smiles, eyes closing briefly. “Clothes. A watch. Normal things.” “Boring,” she decides.

“What about you?” he counters. “A scarf,” she says, then pauses slightly, like she’s debating whether to add more. “And… my mom asked about you.”

His eyes open. “Oh?” “Yeah,” she says, softer now, her breath curling into the cold air as she looks down at the pavement. “She’s not too happy about me living with my boyfriend…” there’s the faintest pause, like she’s still getting used to saying it out loud, “…but she’s glad that I have a boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend,” he echoes under his breath, like he’s not used to it, like he could never get used to it. She smiles a little, catching it immediately. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything,” he says, but there’s a quiet grin in his voice now, something soft and almost disbelieving. “I just like how that sounds.”

She huffs out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable,” “No I am your boyfriend ___, who is this unbelievable?” Taehyung jokes and then he hears it, that laugh. Unrestrained, easy, the kind that always feels like a reward he didn’t know he was waiting for. He closes his eyes for a second, just to sit in it.

“Well, my boyfriend, how about we do our gift exchange tomorrow? I’ll be back by 7?”___ asks and he opens his eyes, sitting up a little straighter now, like the plan immediately matters.

“Seven pm?” he repeats, already thinking it through. “That’s late.” She scoffs lightly. “Some of us have families, you know.” “I have a family too,” he mutters, glancing briefly toward the door like they might barge in again at any second. 

“Next year,” he adds out of nowhere, she tilts her head slightly. “Next year?” “We won’t do Christmas separately,” he says, his voice steadier now, more certain. “We’ll be in the same place.”

There’s something about the way he says it. Not just hopeful, sure, very simply sure. She smiles a little more fully this time. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he echoes, like he needs to hear it again. “Okay,” she repeats, softer.

There’s a knock on his door then, followed by Haerin’s voice, loud and impatient. “Oppa! Stop hiding, mom says come out!”

He groans quietly, dropping his head back against the headboard. “I’m being summoned.” She laughs softly. “Go. Before she breaks the door down.”

He doesn’t move immediately.  “Merry Christmas baby” he says again, quieter this time. “Merry Christmas baby,” she echoes, just as softly.

Taehyung hums quietly along to the music as he moves around the apartment, the soft glow of the Christmas tree casting warm light across the living room. Everything is just right, the cushions straightened, the counters spotless, the faint smell of food lingering from when he reheated dinner earlier just to check if it needed anything. The wine sits open on the table, breathing, like even that has been prepared with intention.

He glances at the clock again. 7:32. He tries not to overthink it. She said seven, but she also said family, and he knows what that means, knows how hard it is to leave once conversations start looping and mothers start asking just one more question.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair, half amused at himself. He’s performed in front of thousands, handled schedules that run down to the minute, and yet somehow this, waiting for her, has him pacing his own living room like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Taehyung hears the faint click of the door unlocking before it even opens, the sound so familiar now that it settles something in him instantly. He leans back into the sofa, one arm stretched along the backrest, the picture of someone completely unbothered, like he hasn’t spent the last half hour checking the time every two minutes.

___ steps in quietly, a small exhale leaving her as she slips inside, kicking the door shut behind her with ease. There’s a bouquet in her hands, her cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, her hair just a little messy from the wind.

“You’re late,” Taehyung says from the sofa, like he hasn’t been waiting. She narrows her eyes at him immediately, already catching the act. “Only because I had to answer a thousand questions about you to my father”

He hums, unconvinced, watching as walks further in, setting the flowers down on the table. “For the house,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

He looks at them, then back at her, one brow lifting slightly. “You mean… for me.” She scoffs, turning to face him properly now. “Technically, your card paid for them, so if anything, you bought them for yourself.”

He lets out a quiet laugh at that, shaking his head. “That’s not how that works.” “That’s exactly how that works,” she insists, though there’s a smile tugging at her lips as she takes a few steps closer.

There’s a small pause then, her gaze flicking briefly around the apartment. She shakes her head, but the smile stays as she moves closer, stopping just a few steps in front of him.

Her gaze softens slightly. “Your family’s gone?” she asks, her voice a little quieter now. He nods, tilting his head toward the now-empty hallway. “Yeah. Left a while ago.”

She studies his face for a second, like she’s confirming it, like she needs to be sure. She leans down just slightly where he’s sitting, her hand coming up to his shoulder as she presses a soft, warm kiss to his lips.

It catches him off guard for half a second.

And then he’s there, one hand coming up to her waist, pulling her into his lap, deepening it just enough to make it linger. When she pulls back, her lips still close to his, her breath warm against his skin.

“Hi,” she murmurs. He looks up at her, something softer breaking through the nonchalance he was trying so hard to maintain. “Hi,” he replies, quieter now. 

“What kind of gift requires an outfit change?” Taehyung whines from the bedroom while ___ clasps the very delicate lingerie dress, she takes another look at herself in the mirror, her c cups and a push up bra together look ridiculous but she does like the way she looks.

“Because you’re a man who has everything,” she calls back, adjusting the robe over it, tying it loosely at her waist before deliberately tugging a few strands of her hair out of place, softening the look just enough. “And I didn’t know what else to get you.”

“Come on,” he complains again, louder this time. “I want my gift, and I’m very anxious about what you think of my gift.” She exhales once, steadying herself, then finally steps out of the walk-in closet.

Taehyung looks up immediately and then freezes completely. His expression shifts in real time, confusion first, then recognition, and then something much quieter, much heavier as his gaze lingers, taking her in slowly, like he doesn’t quite trust himself to react too quickly.

She leans against the doorway, suddenly very aware of herself under his attention. “Well?” she asks, trying to sound casual and failing just a little.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair, a small, almost disbelieving laugh leaving him. “Wow”

She shrugs lightly, though her fingers tighten slightly against the edge of her robe. “You said you didn’t want anything.” “I-” he cuts himself off, shaking his head, eyes still on her. “I mean, I’m not complaining, I just-”

She raises a brow. “You just…?” He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice lowering. “I think I need a second.” That makes her laugh, softer now, the tension easing just a little.

“Okay,” she says, pushing off the doorway and stepping closer. Closer until she’s only an arm length away. The maroon dress is clearly visible through the robe, she casually re-robes, revealing the dress that barely covers her. 

“This is also your birthday gift, I’m working on a tight budget” ___’s confidence shakes the longer he stays quiet. Still nothing. His eyes haven't moved, which is either very good or has somehow looped back around to terrible, and she genuinely cannot tell which.

"Taehyung-ah," she says, and hates how her voice comes out just a fraction smaller than she intended. "You're making me nervous."

He looks up at her face then, finally "Come here," he says as he pulls her closer, “This is like the best gift ever, I just can’t believe… wow okay your boobs are very distracting” he lets out a chuckle as she punches his arm, she has the validation she needed.

"Okay," she says, dropping onto the edge of the bed in front of him, palms still out, fingers wiggling once for emphasis. "Now mine." Taehyung softly places the box in her hands. She unwraps it carefully, her fingers working at the ribbon with more patience than she usually has for these things, and then the paper falls away and she goes completely still.

A quiet wow, barely above a breath. The Cartier box sits in her palms, small and burgundy. The watch catches the light immediately, dainty and gold.

"It's not technically jewellery," Taehyung says, his voice quieter now, less certain than he usually lets himself sound. "But I noticed you wear the same pieces every day. The rings, the chain." A small pause. "I just thought it would sit well with everything else. Something you could actually wear."

She hasn't said anything yet. She's still looking at it, her thumb hovering just above the strap without quite touching it, like she's giving herself a moment before she does. "Try it on," he says softly.

It belongs there. Immediately, obviously, the way things do when someone has been paying close enough attention. She looks up at him, and whatever she was planning to say doesn't quite make it out.

"You're so-" she starts, then stops, looking at him properly, the laugh softening into something quieter. "This is really beautiful"

"Yeah?" he says, and tries very hard to sound casual about how much her saying that just did to him. "Yeah," she confirms. Then she looks down at herself, at the watch on her wrist, at the dress that is doing the bare minimum, and something amused and warm crosses her face. "We're a bit much right now."

He looks at her, the watch, the dress, the whole of her sitting in front of him, and nods once, slowly. "Yeah," he agrees, his hands finding her waist, drawing her closer without any particular urgency. "We really are” The words barely make it out before his lips find hers, soft and unhurried, the kind of kiss that doesn't need to go anywhere immediately because it already knows where it's going.

She hums against him, her newly watched wrist looping around the back of his neck.  He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips still close, his voice dropping to something that exists only in the small space between them. 

"Now," he murmurs, his fingers finding the thin strap at her shoulder, sliding it down with a patience that feels almost deliberate, almost like a point being made, "it's my turn to unwrap my present."

"What did ___ give you for Christmas?" Jungkook asks, with the open curiosity of someone who genuinely just wants to know and has absolutely no idea what he's walking into.

Taehyung becomes very interested in the middle distance. "A sweater," he says, with the convincing flatness of a man who has never once in his life received lingerie as a gift.

Jungkook nods, satisfied. Jimin says nothing, because Jimin doesn't know about the sweater or what it actually was, but he does know other things, specifically that ___ has been texting him for the better part of two weeks trying to figure out what to do for Taehyung's birthday, and that the conversation has been both genuinely helpful and extremely entertaining.

"And the birthday plans?" Jimin asks, tone light, the picture of casual interest. "Anything exciting?" Taehyung glances at him sideways. "Why?"

"Just asking," Jimin says pleasantly. "As your friend. Who cares deeply about you." The suspicion that crosses Taehyung's face is immediate and specific. "She's texting you."

Jimin neither confirms nor denies this, which is its own confirmation. "We talk," he says simply. "About what," Taehyung says, and it comes out less like a question and more like a quiet accusation.

"Things," Jimin replies. "She wanted some advice." "About my birthday."

"I didn't say that." "Jimin-ah." Jimin finally looks at him, expression perfectly composed. "She's trying to do something nice for you," he says, a little more directly now, the teasing easing just enough to let something genuine through. "Let her."

Taehyung is quiet for a second, the suspicion softening into something he doesn't quite have a word for. Someone calls for them from down the hall, the live starting in minutes, and the group begins moving.

"What did she ask you?" Taehyung tries one more time, falling into step. "Wouldn't you like to know," Jimin says cheerfully, and walks ahead. 

"Hi, Mrs. Kim, ___ here." Her voice comes out more nervous than she intended, which is saying something given that she'd practiced the opening line twice in the kitchen before hitting call. There's a brief pause on the other end, just long enough for her to remember, with vivid clarity, the exact expression on Mrs. Kim's face the last time they were in the same room together.

"___," Mrs. Kim says warmly, and the warmth is genuine enough that some of the tension leaves her shoulders immediately. "What a nice surprise."

"I'm so sorry to bother you," ___ starts, already moving around the kitchen, needing something to do with her free hand. "I got your number from Taehyung's phone, which I realize sounds terrible, but I wanted to ask you something and I didn't want him to know I called and-" she stops herself. Exhales. "Sorry. I'm rambling."

Mrs. Kim lets out a soft laugh. "You're not bothering me at all. What is it?"

"His birthday," ___ says, getting to it before she can overthink it further. "He mentioned once, just in passing, that you make seaweed soup for him with a unique recipe for his birthday"  The quiet on the other end is brief, but it carries something in it.

"He said that?" Mrs. Kim asks, softer now. “I think that would mean more to him than a reservation somewhere."

There's a pause, and then Mrs. Kim says, "Get something to write with." ___ straightens immediately, already reaching for the notepad she'd left out in optimistic preparation. "I have something"

"So," Mrs. Kim says, with the particular casualness of someone who has been waiting to ask something for a while and has finally decided the moment is right, "when are you bringing ___ around properly?"

Taehyung adjusts his grip, angles himself, and takes the shot before answering. The ball arcs cleanly through the pale January air. He watches it land before he speaks. "It's too soon," he says, straightening. "We've only been together a month and a half."

"That's not what I asked," his mother replies, already moving to her own position with the unhurried patience of someone who has been handling him for thirty years and knows exactly which answers aren't answers.

"It feels longer," he admits, more quietly. "But still. I don't want to put pressure on things." Mrs. Kim takes her shot."How is she?" Mrs. Kim asks. "With everything. The job, the apartment situation."

"Better," he says. "She has a part time role at the moment, still looking for something more stable." He considers for a second. "She doesn't complain about it. She just keeps moving."

"Mm," his mother says, in the tone that means she's filing something away. "And she's still staying with you?" "For now." He pauses. "It works. Having her there." He says it simply, like he's not quite ready to hand over the full version of it, which Mrs. Kim understands and doesn't push.

"And the tour?" she asks instead, her voice shifting just slightly, carrying the particular weight of a question she's been working toward. "Have you talked about it?" Taehyung exhales slowly. There it is. "Not properly," he admits.

"Taehyung-ah." "I know," he says, before she can continue. "I know."

The tour had been scheduled long before any of this, before the Chanel store, before the house cooling party, before the snow outside the convenience store. A year and a half, multiple continents, the kind of absence that is difficult to explain to someone who hasn't lived it, the hotel rooms that all smell the same, the way the city outside the window changes before you've finished learning the last one.

"She knew what she was getting into," he says, though it comes out less certain than he intends. "Did she?" his mother asks, not unkindly. "A month and a half ago you were just friends."

He doesn't answer that immediately. They reach the next position, and he takes his time setting up the shot, more time than necessary. "I don't know how to bring it up without it sounding like I'm already leaving," he says finally, his voice lower now, stripped of the composure he usually maintains around this particular topic. 

"We just started. And I have to tell her that in a few months I'll be gone for the better part of a year" He pauses. "With occasional breaks"

Mrs. Kim watches him. "She strikes me as someone who can handle difficult things," she says. "She's been handling them for a while now, on her own." "That's exactly what worries me," he replies quietly. "She's very good at being on her own. I don't want to give her a reason to go back to that."

The words settle between them, carried off gently by the cold morning air. His mother is quiet for a moment, and when she speaks again her voice is soft but direct, the tone she reserves for the things that actually matter.

"Then don't leave it as something that happens to her," she says. "Talk to her. Make it something you figure out together." She pauses to look her son square in the eyes. "That's the difference, Taehyung. Between someone waiting and someone choosing to wait."

He stands there with his club in his hand, thinking long and hard about the woman who’s currently getting ready to attend an old friend’s wedding.

"Yeah," he says eventually, quietly. "Okay." Mrs. Kim nods once, satisfied, and gestures toward the ball. "Now focus. You're three strokes behind and you're letting me win on purpose, which I find insulting."

That pulls a genuine laugh out of him, the first one of the morning. "I'm not letting you win." "You are," she says simply. "I'm fifty years old and I have a bad hip. Stop being polite and play properly."

All important conversations start small, at least between them.

They're in the kitchen, the particular easy quiet of a Sunday evening, her sitting on the counter the way she always does when she doesn't want to admit she's nervous about something, him making tea because she'd mentioned being cold twenty minutes ago and he'd gotten up without saying anything.

"I ran into someone at Minjung's wedding," she starts, her hands folded in her lap, watching him move around the kitchen with the familiar ease of someone who has learned where everything lives. "Jihoon."

He glances back briefly. "She's been running a dance studio. For about three years now," She pauses, her thumb tracing a small circle against her palm. "It's doing well. Well enough that she wants to bring someone else in."

Taehyung sets the mugs down and turns to look at her properly now, leaning back against the opposite counter. He doesn't say anything yet, just gives her the space to get to it.

"She asked me," ___ continues, quieter now. "To come in as a partner. Not just an instructor, an actual partner." She exhales lightly. "Which is insane, obviously. I haven't danced professionally in years, I've been selling handbags, I have approximately no business experience and very little savings and-"

"But?" he says. She looks at him. "But I haven't stopped thinking about it since she asked."

"Tell me what it would look like," he says, reaching for the kettle. "Practically. What would you actually be doing?"

And so she does, carefully at first and then less so, the words coming faster as she goes, the studio space Jihoon already has, the classes that are already full, the waiting list that tells her the demand is there, the gap in Seoul for something that sits between serious classical training and the idol prep academies that churn through kids without really teaching them anything. The specific thing ___ could bring, the ballet foundation, the years of idol training, the ability to speak both languages fluently.

He listens to all of it without interrupting, and she can see him actually thinking about it, not just waiting for his turn to talk. "It's a gamble," she says finally, landing on it. "Jihoon's been building this for three years and it's still not fully stable. Bringing me in means splitting ownership, splitting risk." She looks down at her hands. "And I've been so careful lately. About stability. About not just throwing myself at things because they feel right."

"Does it feel right?" he asks. She's quiet for a second. "It feels like the only thing that's ever felt completely right," she admits. "Which is exactly why it scares me."

Taehyung is quiet then, longer than usual, his mug turning slowly in his hands. She recognizes the quality of the silence, he's working toward something, the same way he does when he has something to say that he's been arranging carefully.

"Can I tell you something?" he says. She looks up at him. "That sounds ominous."

"It's not," he says, setting his mug down. "It's just something I should have brought up before now and I kept finding reasons not to." He meets her eyes, steady and direct in the way he is when something actually matters. "The tour."

She stills slightly. "What about it?" "It starts soon," he says. "We leave in April." A pause. "And we'll be gone, properly gone, for about a year"

The word sits between them. April. She does the quiet math of it without meaning to, the months stacking up in her head, the apartment without him in it, the lemon water for one.

"Okay," she says, carefully. "I'll be back," he adds quickly, "for breaks, between legs of the tour. It won't be completely-" he stops himself, exhales. "It'll still be a lot of time away. I know that."

She nods once, slowly, not looking away from him. "We should have talked about this sooner", he says honestly. "And then I realized I was waiting because I didn't want to see how you'd react." His voice drops slightly. "Because I didn't want to give you a reason to decide this was too complicated."

The honesty of it lands quietly. She sits with it for a second, her hands still in her lap. "I'm not going to decide that," she says finally. "You don't have to say that just-"

"Taehyung-ah." Her voice is gentle but certain, cutting through it cleanly. "I'm not saying it to make you feel better. I'm saying it because it's true." She holds his gaze. "I knew what this was when I said yes. I knew who you were."

He looks at her for a long moment, something easing in his expression that she realizes has been there, tightly held, for longer than tonight.

"Okay," he says quietly. "Okay," she echoes. Then, after a beat, softer, "I'm scared too, for what it's worth."

"About the studio?" he asks. "About all of it," she admits. "The studio, you leaving, what the next year looks like." She glances down briefly. "It's a lot of big things happening at once."

He crosses the kitchen then, stopping in front of her where she's sitting on the counter, close enough that she has to look up at him slightly. His hands find her knees, resting there, warm and steady.

"You should do it," he says. "The studio." She blinks. "You didn't even hesitate."

"No," he agrees. "Because you just described the only thing that's ever felt completely right." He says her own words back to her, quietly, without making a performance of it. "And you've spent long enough doing things because they were safe."

She looks at him for a moment, something pressing against the inside of her chest. "You're leaving in April," she says softly. "And you want me to take the biggest gamble of my life right when you go."

"I want you to take it," he says simply, "so that when I come back, you've built something that's yours." His thumbs move slightly against her knees. "And I want to hear about every single part of it. Every class, every difficult student, every time Jihoon drives you insane."

The ghost of a smile crosses her face despite herself. "She will drive me insane." "Probably," he agrees, and the tension of the last ten minutes breaks quietly, naturally, like it was always going to end up here.

She exhales slowly, leaning forward slightly until her forehead rests against his shoulder, just for a second, just to feel something solid.

The tenth apartment has a water stain on the ceiling that the agent keeps referring to as "character," which tells her everything she needs to know.

She stands in the middle of the living room, hands in her coat pockets, doing the thing she's done in nine other living rooms over the past three weeks, trying to picture her life inside it. Her mugs on those shelves. Her coat by that door. Mornings at that window.

It doesn't come. It hasn't come in any of them, which she's been telling herself is about the apartments and not about the fact that she has gotten embarrassingly, inconveniently accustomed to floor to ceiling windows and a Han River view and a kitchen where she knows without looking which drawer holds the wine opener.

She thanks the agent and steps back out into the February cold.

The restaurant is small and warm, the kind of place that requires a reservation weeks in advance.. Candlelit without trying too hard, the private dining working perfectly for them. Taehyung had booked it quietly, weeks ago, the kind of planning he does without mentioning it.

She'd known, walking in, that she needed to tell him tonight. She'd been carrying it around for three weeks, the apartment viewings. Especially not on a night he'd clearly put thought into.

She waits until the first course. Which in hindsight, is not long enough. "I've been looking at apartments," she says, setting her fork down.

Taehyung looks up from his plate. Just looks at her for a second, like he's making sure he heard correctly. "Sorry?" "Apartments," she says. "I've seen about ten so far."

The fork in his hand lowers slowly to the plate. He doesn't set it down dramatically, just quietly, the way you put something down when you need your hands free to think. "Ten," he repeats.

"None of them have been right," she adds, which she immediately realizes does not land the way she intended.

"How long?" he asks. "Three weeks," she says. "Give or take." He's quiet for a moment, and she watches him absorb it, he looks at the candle briefly, then back at her, and she can see him choosing his words with more care than usual.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks. His voice is even. "Because I needed to make the decision before I talked to you about it," she says. "Otherwise it stops being mine."

Something moves across his face at that. "What does that mean?" "It means," she says, keeping her voice low, "that if I'd told you three weeks ago, we'd be having this exact conversation three weeks ago, and I wouldn't have had time to figure out what I actually wanted first."

"And what do you actually want?" he asks. "My own place," she says. Simply, like she's been practicing it. "Something that's mine. That I chose and I'm responsible for."

He looks at her for a long moment. "You have a place," he says finally, quietly. "I have your place," she says.

"That's not-" he stops himself, exhales through his nose. "I don't think of it like that." "I know you don't," she says. "But I do. And that matters."

He leans back slightly in his chair, and she can see it, the careful effort of a man trying very hard not to react from the first feeling that arrived, which was not a calm one. "You've been looking for three weeks," he says. "Ten apartments. And you didn't think to mention it once."

"I'm mentioning it now," she says. "On Valentine's Day," he says. "Over dinner I planned."

She holds his gaze. "I know. I'm sorry about the timing. I just-" she pauses. "I didn't want to keep not telling you." He looks at her, and the careful evenness slips slightly, something more honest showing. "Is it because of the tour?" he asks. "Is that what this is about?"

"Partly," she admits. "___," he says, leaning forward now, his voice dropping. "That's exactly why I want you to stay. You're about to pour everything into the studio, every bit of money, every bit of energy. And I'm about to leave and be completely useless to you from the other side of the world." Something tightens in his expression. "The least I can do is make sure you're not worrying about rent on top of all of that."

"That's your reasoning for me staying," she says carefully. "Because it's practical." "It is practical," he says. "It makes sense."

"It makes sense for you," she says. "Because you'll be gone and you'll feel better knowing I'm somewhere comfortable. I understand that." She shakes her head slightly. "But I can't stay in your apartment for a year while you're away, Taehyung. Living in your space, using your things, just-" she stops. "What does that make me?"

"My girlfriend," he says immediately. "That's what it makes you." "Your girlfriend who lives in your apartment that she doesn't pay for," she says, "while you're not even there." She says it quietly, not with anger, just with the particular weariness of someone who has been arguing with themselves about this for three weeks and knows every side of it already. "I've been taking so much. Since the break in, the card, the-"

"I gave you those things," he says, and there's an edge to it now, not sharp, just present. "You didn't take anything." "There's not always a difference," she says softly.

He stares at her. "There is," he says. "There absolutely is, and I need you to-" he stops himself, a deep breath to compose himself,  "I need you to understand that I have never once thought of it that way. Not for a single second."

"I know that," she says. "But I think of it that way. And I have to live with how I think of it." The table is quiet for a moment. She watches him sit with that, the particular stillness of a person who has just been handed an argument he can't dismantle because it isn't about logic.

"So that's it," he says finally. "You've decided." "I haven't found the right place yet," she says.

"But you're looking," he says, "That means you've decided." She doesn't answer that, which is its own kind of answer.

He exhales, long and slow, and reaches for his wine glass without drinking from it, just holding it, his thumb moving against the stem. "I don't love this," he says finally.

"I know," she says. "I want you to stay," he says, and it comes out more plainly than everything before it, stripped of all the practical reasoning, just the simple truth of it. "That's what I want. I want to come home and have you there."

Something tightens in her chest at that, the specific ache of wanting to give someone what they're asking for and knowing you can't. "I want that too," she says quietly. "That's not the problem."

He looks at her, and for a moment the restaurant, the candlelight, the Valentine's Day of it all feels entirely beside the point. There are just two people sitting across from each other with something unresolved between them that neither of them quite knows how to put down.

"So what do we do?" he asks. "I don't know yet," she says honestly.

He nods once, slowly, like he's accepting that even though it costs him something. He finally takes a sip of his wine, sets the glass down carefully. "Will you at least tell me," he says, "when you find somewhere? Before you sign anything?"

"Yes," she says. "Of course."

"Okay," he says. "Okay," she echoes.

It isn't resolved. They both know it isn't resolved, and they both, without saying so, agree to set it down for the rest of the evening. She picks her fork back up. After a moment, he does too.

The album release party arrives quicker than expected, it’s March in a blink of an eye. 

___ fixes her hair one last time in the reflection of the bar window before she steps inside, the noise and warmth of it spilling out to meet her even through the glass. The place has been transformed, every detail considered, the kind of event that reflects months of work made to look effortless. It's already full, already loud, the energy of something long awaited finally arriving.

She finds her shoulders straightening slightly as she steps in, the old performance instinct, the one that never fully left, surfacing quietly. She takes a glass from a passing tray and looks around.

Taehyung finds her before she finds him. She feels it before she sees it, that particular quality of attention, the kind that has weight to it when it's his. She turns, and he's across the room, mid conversation with someone she doesn't recognise, but his eyes are on her. 

He'd found out three days ago. Not dramatically, not in a way that became a fight. She'd told him quietly, over dinner. The days between then and tonight have had a particular texture to them. Ordinary on the surface. A little too careful underneath. The paperwork is still unsigned. She knows it. He knows it. Neither of them has mentioned that part.

"You look beautiful," Jimin says, appearing at her shoulder with the comfortable ease of someone who belongs everywhere he stands. He leans in briefly, then steps back to look at her properly. "How are you?"

"Good," she says. "Tonight's a big night."

"It is," he agrees, glancing briefly around the room with something warm and proud in his expression before looking back at her. His eyes are more careful than his tone. "And you? How are things?"

She takes a sip of her drink. "Fine." Jimin nods slowly, in the way that suggests he has already had a conversation with Taehyung today and therefore knows that fine is doing a lot of heavy lifting. "I heard about the studio," he says, shifting gently. "Properly heard, I mean. Taehyung told us all last week." Something in his expression settles into something warmer, more genuine than the party around them. "It's the right thing. I hope you know that."

She looks at him. "Did he say that?" "He didn't have to," Jimin says simply. "He talked about it for twenty minutes and the whole time he looked like someone who was trying very hard to be happy about something that was also making him sad." He says it honestly. "He's proud of you."

She glances across the room, finds Taehyung without meaning to. He looks like a man doing an excellent impression of someone who is exactly where he wants to be.

"You guys leave tomorrow," she says quietly, still looking at him. "I know," Jimin says.

"And I found an apartment." She looks back at Jimin. "The paperwork isn't signed yet but." She stops. "It will be." Jimin is quiet for a moment, the party moving around them, loud and entirely indifferent to the two of them standing. His expression doesn't shift into pity, which she appreciates. Just something steady and honest. "Is that still what you want?" he asks. 

She looks at her glass. "It's what I need," she says finally. "Those aren't always the same thing."

Jimin nods slowly at that, like he understands the distinction more than he wants to. He's quiet for a moment before he raises his glass slightly, something deliberately simple in the gesture. "To the studio then," he says. "I mean it."

Something loosens in her chest, just slightly. She raises her own glass. "To the studio."

She turns, and Taehyung is closer now, moving through the party with the unhurried ease of someone who knows every person in the room and is making his way toward one specific one. Jimin takes a small, quiet step back. Not obviously, just enough.

Taehyung stops in front of her, close enough that the noise of the party feels further away than it actually is. He looks at her for a moment, taking her in the way he does when he thinks she isn't fully paying attention, which she always is.

"Hi," he says. "Hi," she says back.

A beat passes between them, full and unresolved, carrying everything they haven't said since three days ago and everything they won't say tonight because it's his night and she won't take that from him.

"You look beautiful," he says, quieter now, just for her. "You already told me that this morning," she says softly. "Still true," he replies.

She looks at him, this man who leaves tomorrow, who saw a listing on a laptop and said it looks nice and meant something entirely different, who is standing in the middle of his own album release party looking at her like she's the only thing in the room he's certain of.

"How are you feeling?" she asks. "Really." He considers the question honestly, the way he does with things that deserve it. Then, quietly, "Ask me again tomorrow."

She nods, and doesn't push it, and they stand there together in the middle of the party, close enough that his arm presses lightly against hers, neither of them moving away. ___ is the first to wave the white flag as she intertwines her fingers with his.

She swallows looking straight ahead. "It's a really good album," she says softly, after a moment.

"Yeah?" "You know it is," she says. The corner of his mouth moves, just slightly, the first real smile of the evening. 

The apartment is still dark when she feels it, his hand on her shoulder, gentle and deliberate, the specific quality of a touch that doesn't want to startle.

___ wakes up slowly, blinking once, the room coming together in pieces. The clock. The dark. The bag she can see by the door through the half open bedroom door, packed and waiting.

"Hey," he says softly, crouching beside the bed so he's level with her. He's already dressed, his coat on, his hair not yet fully sorted, like he'd gotten ready as quietly as possible and saved this part for last. "I didn't want to just leave."

She pushes herself up onto one elbow, sleep still heavy in her limbs. "What time is it?" "Early," he says. "Go back to sleep after."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair back from her face, his hand lingering at her cheek for a moment, warm and steady. He looks at her the way he does when he's trying to memorise her.

"I'll call when we land," he says. She nods. Her hand comes up and covers his where it rests against her cheek, keeping it there for just a second longer. And then, because it's dark and he's leaving and Jihoon's words have been sitting in her chest since the party and she's tired of carrying things alone,

"I've decided to stay" she says quietly. He goes very still as he takes a sharp breath.

"I mean," she continues, her voice soft but certain, "I'm not going anywhere." She holds his gaze in the dark. "I want to stay. Not because it's practical, not because of the rent." She exhales slowly. "Because I want to. Because this is ours and I don't want to spend the next year  making it harder than it has to be."

He looks at her for a long moment, something moving through his expression that he doesn't try to control. His thumb moves against her cheek, slow and careful. "Yeah?" he says, and his voice comes out quieter than he intends.

"Yeah," she says. "I should have said it sooner. I just-" she pauses, the words finding their shape slowly. "Jihoon said something at the party. About how I've been doing everything alone for so long that I've started to think needing someone is a personality flaw." She looks at him directly. "She wasn't wrong."

"I don't want to be someone who makes loving me harder than it has to be," she says softly. "You've never made me feel like a burden. Not once. And I kept treating your support like it was something to be ashamed of." She shakes her head slightly against the pillow. "I'm sorry it took me this long."

"Hey," he says gently, his thumb brushing her cheek. "It took as long as it took." She looks at him, this man crouched beside their bed in the dark with a flight to catch, and feels something settle in her chest that has been restless for months.

"I love you," she says quietly. The way she says the things she means most, without preamble, without softening, just the truth of it handed over directly.

The stillness that follows is different from before. He looks at her for a moment that stretches just long enough to feel significant, his hand warm and unmoving against her face.

"I love you," he says back, and the way it comes out, soft and certain, tells her he's been holding it for a while. That it has been true for longer than tonight.

He leans forward and presses his lips to her forehead, slow and deliberate. Her temple. The corner of her mouth. Then properly, warm and unhurried, like a man who has somewhere to be and is choosing not to think about it.

"You have a flight," she murmurs. "I know," he says. He doesn't move immediately.

"Taehyung-ah." "I know," he repeats, softer. He pulls back, looks at her one more time in the dark, memorising. "Go back to sleep."

"I will," she says. He stands. Picks up his bag. And she watches him move toward the door, the familiar shape of him in the dark of their apartment.

He pauses in the doorway. Looks back, like he always does. "Go," she says gently.

He goes. She hears the front door close. Lies back against the pillow. Stares at the ceiling for approximately thirty seconds.

Then the front door opens again. She's already sitting up when he appears back in the bedroom doorway, coat still on, bag still on his shoulder, looking at her with the expression of a man who tried and failed to leave properly.

She raises her eyebrows. "I forgot something," he says.

"You didn't forget anything," she replies. "I did," he insists, crossing back to the bed, dropping to sit at the edge of it, cupping her face in both hands and kissing her again, slower this time, more thorough, like he's making sure she remembers.

When he pulls back she's almost laughing. "Go," she says again, her hands at his wrists, not pulling him away, just holding. "You're going to miss your flight."

"The car is waiting," he says, unbothered. He presses one more to her forehead. Stands up again as he readies himself to leave. 

"I love you," he says, like he needs to say it one more time now that he's allowed to. "I love you," she says back, like it's easy, because it is, because it has been for a long time.

He leaves again. She listens to his footsteps down the hallway, the front door, the quiet that follows. Then the elevator, she can hear it arrive, the soft ding of it.

Then nothing, footsteps again. She closes her eyes, already smiling, as the bedroom door opens once more. "Taehyung-ah," she says, without looking.

"Last time," he says, and she can hear the smile in it, the boyish helpless quality of it. He crosses the room, tilts her chin up with one finger, kisses her once, definitively, like he's putting a full stop on something.

"Okay," he says against her lips. "Okay. I'm going."

"You've said that," she murmurs. "This time I mean it." "You've said that too."

He pulls back, looks at her, and the expression on his face is the one she will think about for the next few weeks, warm and unguarded and completely certain, the face of a man who knows exactly what he's leaving and exactly what he's coming back to.

"Sleep," he says softly. "Travel safe," she replies. He squeezes her hand once and lets go. And this time she hears him all the way to the elevator, hears the doors open, hears them close.

She exhales, sinking back against the pillow, the apartment settling into its new quiet around her. His side of the bed still warm. The city beginning its pale grey morning beyond the curtains. Her phone lights up on the nightstand.

Taehyung: I love you

She stares at it for a moment, something soft and slightly overwhelming pressing against the inside of her chest.

___: I love you