Trrea

He saw her before she saw him.

She was standing before her apartment building, one hand in the pocket of her jacket, the other clutching her phone as if it might float away.

“Yeah, Mum, I know,” she was saying, voice low. “I will. I promise I’m taking care of myself.”

A pause, her gaze drifting to nothing in particular.

“No, the job’s good. It’s just … new city, new everything, you know?” Another pause, shorter.

“Love you too.” She exhaled, shoulders loosening just a shade, and ended the call. Browns furrowed together—something was off. Not disastrous. Just… off.

Taehyung leaned forward in the driver’s seat, watching. When she turned toward his car, her whole face lit up with a smile, a wave, instant lightness. She slid into the passenger seat like nothing had happened. Not fake. Just… practised.

“Hi,” she said, warm and a touch too upbeat. “Sorry, were you waiting long?” He shook his head. “Not at all.”

He didn’t ask about the call; he could feel the tension in her shoulders. In the short time he’d known Y/n, he’d learned that not every door needed knocking. Some opened simply by waiting nearby.

He eased the car into gear— but not toward the restaurant.

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At first, she stared out the window, thoughts louder than the city. Rain streaked the glass in fine silver lines. As they crossed the bridge over the Han, the city lights shimmered on the river like scattered coins. Taehyung slid his free hand across the console. Her fingers found his automatically. Warm. Quiet. They stayed linked for the rest of the way.

“Wait… this isn’t Itaewon,” she murmured as neon gave way to hushed side streets.

“Nope. We’re going somewhere quieter,” he said, thumb brushing her knuckles.

By the time he parked, the rain had softened into a light mist. He rounded the car, opened her door, and held the umbrella overhead as they walked — fingers still laced, steps slow and quiet. The world felt smaller in the best way.

When they reached the entrance, he held the door for her. Y/n stepped into the softly lit lobby, where the scent of cedar, clean linen, and something faintly citrusy hung in the air—the kind of fragrance that made a place feel quietly luxurious. A doorman sat behind the reception desk, flipping through a magazine, giving them a polite nod without asking questions. No grand chandelier, no marble columns — just clean lines, warm lights, and the kind of calm that didn’t need to show off to be impressive.

Upstairs, the hallway was carpeted and calm. She didn’t say much, but he could feel her easing. One breath at a time.

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His apartment was dim, soft, smelling faintly of coffee grounds and cedar. Y/n took off her shoes, eyes skimming the space, processing, not confused.

She took a slow lap around the room, fingertips trailing along the edge of the shelves and paintings. Noticed the record player, the stack of books. The worn-in leather armchair, which looked like it had stories. Her posture softened just a little. Her fingers brushed a small houseplant on the windowsill — an unconscious habit, like she needed to prove it was real.

Taehyung nodded toward the hallway. “Make yourself at home.”

While she wandered deeper inside, he ducked into the kitchen, tapped a mellow jazz playlist with no vocals, just soft drums and late-night sax—and fired up the espresso machine. A minute later, he emerged with two steaming mugs.

“No dress code,” he said, handing her the one that smelled of toasted hazelnuts. “No wait‑list. And the host is extremely handsome.”

That earned a genuine laugh. “Is this your way of admitting you didn’t want to go out either?”

“Not exactly,” he grinned. “It’s my way of saying I wanted to be out with you, not with your ‘I’m fine’ smile.”

She wrapped both hands around the hazelnut latte, the warmth seeping in. “Had a call with my mum. Nothing terrible. Just… when someone sums up your entire existence in two sentences and suddenly your brain’s exhausted?”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “I know. That’s why I did.” She smiles sadly.

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The date ended up being instant ramen in mismatched bowls, eaten cross-legged on the rug while jazz whispered overhead. They ranked each song: “This one’s trying too hard.” or “This one feels like falling asleep during a movie.”

They worked their way through a plate of cinnamon cookies he’d bought the day before — slightly uneven, still soft in the middle, dusted with sugar.

Somewhere around the eighth jazz track, a brassy, dramatic saxophone solo kicked in.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “This one sounds like the soundtrack to a dog dramatically realising it’s been left at the vet.”

Y/n laughed. “That’s… weirdly accurate.”

“Actually, it kind of reminds me of Jungkook’s dog — he’s huge. Like, I didn’t know dogs came in gym membership size.”

Taehyung laughed. “That thing’s not a dog, it’s a portable sofa.”

She grinned. “I kind of want one like that someday.”

He mock-gasped. “Absolutely not. I refuse to live in fear of being flattened every time I sit down.”

She nudged him with her knee. “You’d love it and you know it.”

He gave her a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. But only if it sleeps on your side of the bed.”

“Deal,” she said, already smiling in that soft, faraway way.

And even though he kept teasing, he knew — deep down — that if she ever really wanted one, he’d learn to love him and be the second favourite in the house. Because when it came to her, he’d say yes to just about anything.

Then the music faded to a softer tune — something quieter, almost lullaby-like. They both went quiet, simply listening, letting the rhythm fill the space where conversation had paused. In that hush, her body eased. Her breathing grew slower, more even.

And somewhere between this and him telling her about a dream in which a giant flying croissant chased him through Myeong-dong. Y/n fell asleep. Just like that — curled up sideways on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder.

Taehyung didn’t move for a while. He just looked at her. Her features were softer now. Unarmed. Peaceful in a way that made his chest ache.

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Taehyung stayed still for a while, letting her sleep. Her breathing slowed, her brow not furrowed anymore. He wasn’t in a rush to move.

Eventually, he shifted — just a little — trying not to wake her. But her eyes fluttered open, dazed and soft.

“Did I fall asleep?” she asked, voice rough with sleep, lifting her head.

“Only for a bit,” he said, smiling. “You missed your rating of the sad trumpet solo.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Tragic.”

He brushed a bit of hair from her cheek, his voice soft. “Wanna move to the bed?”

Y/n blinked, still a little dazed from sleep. “I should probably head home.”

Taehyung blinked, surprised. “Now? It’s past midnight. And raining.”

She pushed herself upright, slowly. “It’s okay. I’ll just call a taxi.” She yawned and added, a little awkwardly, “I wasn’t planning to crash here or anything…”

It’s alright,” he said softly. “You were just tired.”

Y/n was already holding her phone, her thumb idly tracing small circles across the screen — not unlocking it, not tapping anything. Just moving. Her eyes flicked between the screen and the window. “I just… didn’t plan to stay, you know?”

“I know,” he said. “But you don’t have to rush off just because you didn’t plan for this.”

She hesitated, jaw tightening slightly. “It’s not that I don’t want to stay— I just don’t want to… assume.”

“You’re not assuming anything,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re tired. Just stay — no pressure, no expectations.”

Y/n looked at him, caught somewhere between grateful and uncertain.

“I’m not offering to drive you home,” he added, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Because I’d rather you stayed.”

Silence stretched between them for a beat, soft and intimate. Then, finally, she let out a breath she’d been holding.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “But only if you have something more comfortable than what I wore earlier.”

He grinned and got up, already heading for the bedroom. “Deal.”

In his bedroom, he opened a dresser drawer and pulled out one of his oversized black T-shirts, offering it to her like it was something important, not just fabric, but comfort.

“You can wear this,” he said and added a pair of shorts.

She changed in the bathroom and emerged bare-faced, wearing the shirt and a pair of his shorts. Somehow, she looked more herself than ever.

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The bed waited in the centre of the room—unmade, inviting, like it had been expecting company. “Which side...?” she asked.

Taehyung gave a small shrug, his voice easy. “I usually sleep on the right, but I don’t mind switching.”

She nodded slowly and moved toward the left side. Her movements were careful, deliberate, as she slipped under the blanket and lay down, her back to the other half of the bed. Taehyung circled to his side, climbed in, and settled in beside her.

He shifted a little closer, arm draping gently around her waist, letting her feel the steadiness of his presence without pressing.

“Comfy?” he asked, his voice a hush against the quiet.

There was a pause.

“Actually… no,” she murmured.

She turned in his arms, moving slowly, until she was facing him—her forehead close to his mouth, her breath warm against his chest. His hand adjusted instinctively, splaying over her back, holding her just a little closer now.

She exhaled, this time deeper. More settled.

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his vibranium hand. The dog tags around his neck clinked softly as he shifted, the sound somehow heavier than usual. Y/n was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she made breakfast, blissfully unaware of the war raging in his mind.

It wasn’t her fault. She was perfect—kind, smart, patient, and everything he didn’t think he deserved. But that was the problem. Wasn’t it? She deserved someone who fit into her world. Someone who understood memes without needing them explained. Who didn’t get overwhelmed by crowds or who could actually laugh along with her friends instead of feeling like an outsider in their world. He didn’t belong here. Not at this time. Not with her.

Y/n walked in her hair slightly mussed from the morning, wearing one of my old shirts. She was holding a tray balanced carefully in her hands, carrying breakfast, golden French toast, and two steaming mugs. I assumed one was tea for her and the other, black coffee for me. Her face lit up with her usual radiant smile, a look so serene and angelic that she seemed almost otherworldly.

She smiled even brighter, which I didn’t think was possible as she handed me a mug. “Morning, sleepyhead.” I looked up and took the coffee, but the warmth of the mug did little to ease the cold feeling in my chest.

“Y/n, we need to talk,” I said, my voice low but steady.

She frowned, placing her mug on the table with a soft clink. “That sounds ominous,” she said, followed by a light giggle, unaware of just how right she was.

I took a deep breath, staring into the dark liquid swirling in the mug I held tightly. “I’ve been thinking… maybe this isn’t working.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” At first, she didn’t understand, but then she realised it.

“We’re fine. Aren’t we?” she asked, her frown deepening as her eyes searched mine.

I shook my head, unable to meet her eyes. “You deserve someone… normal. Someone who understands your world, your jokes, and your friends. Someone who isn’t stuck in the past.”

“Bucky,” she said softly, sitting beside me. “Where is this coming from? Did something happen?” She sounds worried and places her hand gently on my knee, her thumb moving in slow, soothing circles.

“It’s not one thing,” I admitted, setting the coffee down. “It’s everything. You’re young, Y/n. You have your whole life ahead of you. And I’m… I’m old. I’ve lived through things you can’t even imagine. And sometimes, I feel like I’m dragging you into my mess.”

She stops the movement of her hand “That’s not how I see it,” she said firmly.

“I know,” I said, finally meeting her gaze. “But it’s how I feel. And I don’t think it’s fair to you. You could be with someone who doesn’t come with all this… baggage.” I gesture to myself.

She stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she stood up, crossing her arms. “Okay, let’s break this down. First of all, yes, you’re older. But that doesn’t mean we don’t understand each other. And you’re not the only one who has been through tough things. Everyone has baggage, Bucky.” She says, firmly not letting her shield down.

“It’s not the same,” I argued.

“I’m not saying it’s the same baggage,” she countered, her voice steady, “but we all have something we fight.”

“No, it’s not,” she admitted, her tone softening. “But it doesn’t have to be. We don’t have to be the same to make this work.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Y/n, you’re too good for this. For me.”

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t get to decide that for me. I knew who you were when we started this, Bucky. I chose this. I chose you. And yeah, it’s not always easy, but what relationship is?” She smiled slightly at me.

I looked up at her, the walls I’d been building around myself, starting to crack. “What if I can’t give you what you need? What if—”

“Stop,” she interrupted, sitting back down beside him. “What I need is you. Flaws, baggage, your dad jokes, and all of you. You don’t have to have everything figured out, Bucky. We can figure it out together.”

I was silent for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. “What if I can’t be enough?”

She moved to sit on top of me, each leg on one side, and placed her hands on my cheeks, her gaze locking onto mine. “Then we deal with it. Together. But you don’t get to push me away because you’re scared. That’s not fair to me.”

I stared at her, my throat tight. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Maybe not,” she said with a small smile. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulled her close, and buried my face against her, inhaling her familiar scent. She responded by wrapping her arms around me, holding me just as tightly.

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. “You’re stubborn.”

“That’s why you like me,” she whispered into my ear, brushing her lips softly against it.

Without thinking, I lifted my head, closing the distance between us, and pressed my lips softly against hers. The kiss was tender, lingering for a moment as if we both needed the reassurance.

"Pick whatever you want," Johnny said nonchalantly. "I’ll pay." Your eyes widen at him, in shock that he was so cool about this.

"It's fine, I can pa -" He gently cupped your jaw as your eyes met. "Let me pay, please."

"Really? Are you sure?" Your eyebrows furrowed in response.

"Y/n," Johnny started, bending to whisper in your ear. "I am paying, and that's final."

Your heart fluttered at the heat of his body so close to yours. You didn't think Johnny noticed the peak in your heart rate, but you knew he could tell when you looked up to find him smirking.

"So, I'm going to go get coffee," he gave you a gentle kiss on the top of your head before eyeing the bookshelves. "Have fun book shopping, my love. I'll be back in 10."

"Maybe in 20?" You smiled innocently at Johnny.

"Buy as many books, even hardcover books, as you want," Johnny laughed, knowing how much you loved the hardcover books.

"I will be back in 30." Johnny smiled and headed towards the coffee shop.

Johnny left you surrounded by the enchanting aroma of books and the soft rustling of pages being turned by other people in the shop. The bookstore held an undeniable charm, its narrow aisles filled with shelves stacked from floor to ceiling with books of every genre imaginable.

You began pursuing the shelves, running your fingers along the spines of various books, each one a potential treasure waiting to be discovered. As you explore the aisles, you start to stock books in your hands.

You found yourself drawn to a section of your favourite literature. You picked up a beautifully bound hardcover edition of your favourite book. Questioning whether you should buy another version of it or not.

As you continued your research, you stumbled across a few other books you were hesitant to buy, and Johnny´s encouragement gave you the courage you needed.

When you turned into the next aisle, you heard, "I see you've been busy." Johnny teased you with coffee in hand and a big smile across his face.

Johnny placed both cups on the empty shelf and walked towards you to pick up the books in your arms. He carefully took them. "Are you sure these are all the books you wanted?"

I looked at him and smiled. "I think so."

I was a little surprised at first, but I nodded. There was something magical about how quickly he took on the role of teacher and his calm attitude.

Charles began to show me how to hold my hands properly, use my fingers, and play a chord correctly.

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After a few lessons, I began to understand the language of music and why he loves it so much. My movement improved and became smoother. The melody sounded clearer and more harmonious.

At each of our "lessons," Charles seemed happy that I was improving, or it was the fact that he could share one of his passions with someone. Although I doubt I had the musical talent he did.

I love music, and on several occasions, Charles and I explored each other's music playlists together and even found common favourites. But the way Charles always relaxed when he sat down at the piano to play was an amazing view.

I loved that look, watching and listening to him, and several times, I fell asleep on the couch while he played.

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I got better and better over the next few months. One afternoon, when I arrived a little earlier than Charles, who was late from training, I decided to train.

Last week, I found one of our favourite songs and practised it in secret so I could surprise Charles.

My fingers carefully moved across the keyboard with the grace and delicacy I'd gained from practising with Charles, filling the apartment with a lovely melody.

The melody penetrated to the core of my bones, and sometimes my hand slipped a little, but I didn't stop and continued to play.

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Charles pov:

Today's practice was a bit long. The mechanics needed to make some more adjustments and wanted to know if everything was working as it should. I knew Y/n would be at the apartment waiting for me.

So, as soon as I got out of the garage, I headed to the locker room. I took a quick shower, packed my stuff, and headed to the parking lot where my car was waiting for me.

I got in my Ferrari and pulled out onto the road towards the apartment. I parked in front of the apartment, grabbed my stuff from the trunk, and almost ran as I couldn't wait.

I put my keys in the lock, turned it, and the lock clicked. The first thing I noticed was the melody from the piano. I walked into the apartment, which was filled with a lovely melody. I carefully closed the door and put my things on the floor. 

Quietly, I walked in the direction the melody was coming from. Y/n played carefully, but with a delicacy that she had lacked before. Her song was full of emotion, and at that moment, I realised it was our favourite song. She must have practised it in secret.

I stood in the doorway and listened to the melody, completely entranced by the moment. I was happy for her, for how much she had improved. Most of all, I appreciate her effort and dedication to the music. It was a beautiful moment and I didn't want to disturb it.

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I led Charles to the kitchen, where I prepared all the necessary ingredients.

I showed Charles all the ingredients and explained the process, which I printed out just in case so he could look at it as he worked.

Last week, I was wondering what I could get Charles for his piano lessons, so I thought I could teach him to bake something. His passion is music, and mine is baking.

I was scrolling through the internet looking for a simple recipe and came across a chocolate cake. So, the plan was clear, I'm going to teach him how to bake a cake. 

After work, I went shopping for everything I needed to make the cake. I still had to buy a cake pan.

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Charles pov:

I stood in the kitchen next to Y/n and listened to everything she said, I loved the look.

After the explanation, we got down to business. I was amazed at the precision and concentration with which Y/n worked.

I watched her every move and learned how to handle everything Y/n showed me, what temperature to heat the oven, how to grease the cake pan properly, and most importantly how to tell if the dough was properly made.

Y/n let me do all the work and checked that I was doing it right.

I was just mixing the last two ingredients together: “You have to be careful that everything is mixed and there are no lumps left."

I slowed down and made sure I was careful with every movement.

The dough was ready, I carefully poured it into the cake pan, placed it in the preheated oven, and set the alarm.

I walked over to Y/n and pulled her close to me: "I was wondering how we could entertain ourselves in the meantime."

I kissed her and was about to continue, but Y/n broke the kiss and turned me towards the line.

“Who's going to clean this?" She pointed to the counter full of dishes.

“We can clean it up later." I leaned in for another kiss.

“This is part of the process." She smiled at me and started cleaning up.

After a few minutes, we were done, and the cake was about to be ready. The cake was successful, just baked and smelling lovely.

We sat together at the table and shared the amazing sweet treat we had created together.

We both laughed while baking, and I realised that we had managed to combine our two passions.

Not that I was looking for a bed, I was used to worse conditions, but after the scuffle with the guards, it was a welcome option.

I landed on the upper balcony and soaking wet, and I made my way to my bedroom.

As I approached the bedroom, I felt something luring me in. I stopped at the door and peered inside, noticing the open door to the balcony, which allowed the moon to shine into the room and fill it with a cool spring breeze that smelled of the first flowers of the season.

I quietly crept into the room and approached the spot where Y/n was sitting with a book in hand and in a silk nightgown the colour of the night sky, that didn't even reach her knees. She hadn't noticed me yet, and I wasn't about to change that, lest I startle her.

I slowly loosened the bridle on the shadows, and they slowly crept towards Y/n.

They first approached the chair and then crawled up to Y/n, but before they could even touch her, Y/n turned and smiled at me. I always wondered if she could sense them.

Y/n threw her book in the chair and ran over to me. I walked towards her with open arms. When I finally had her in my arms, I squeezed her tightly and inhaled her lavender scent that was so familiar to me.

Before I could say anything, Y/n kissed me. I smiled into the kiss, and before I could do anything, Y/n broke the kiss and said: “Az you smell awful, you should take a bath.”

I looked back at her with a grin: “Will you join me?”

Y/n replied with a smile: “No, but I'll wait here for you.”

I kissed her again before letting her out of my arms. Y/n returned to her chair, picked up her book, and continued reading.

When I entered the bathroom where a bathtub filled with hot water and a few bottles of unknown contents were already waiting for me. The house always knows what we need.

After two baths, when I tried to wash all the dirt off me, I came out of the bathroom wearing only my pants. Y/n was still sitting in the chair with a book in her hands. I quietly walked over to her, leaned down, and kissed her on the forehead.

Y/n raised her head and looked at me with a smile: “You smell much better now.” I laughed: “I just smell better?”

Y/n just laughed. Before she could say anything, I bent down to her and picked her up under her knees. She put her arms around my neck, not letting the book out of her hand, as I lifted her into my arms.

I wanted to take her to bed, but Y/n protested: “I don't want to go to bed yet.”

So, with Y/n in my arms, I settled into the chair, which, even though it was lined with pillows, could accommodate me and my wings.

Y/n set the book down on the coffee table to the left of the chair and snuggled into my arms, cuddling up closer to my bare chest. I inhaled her lavender scent, which always helped me relax.

We both quietly enjoyed each other's company and let the arms of sleep embrace us.

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I felt movement and woke up with a jerk. I quickly opened my eyes and was about to reach for the knife, but realised it was just Y/n in my arms.

I stroked her cheek and kissed her while she slept. Y/n just wiggled, so I gathered her in my arms and headed to the bed.

I carefully laid her down on her side of the bed and covered her up. I walked around the bed and lay down. Slowly, I turned towards Y/n and pulled her into my arms. I wrapped one arm around her stomach and linked the other with hers.

Y/n turned to face me and gave me a tender kiss on the tip of my nose: “Good night.”