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Chapter Text

Umarekawattara anata o motto hayaku mitsukeru darō.

"If I were to live my life again, I'd find you sooner."

 In Japanese lore, it is called unmei no akai ito—the Red String of Fate. A single, unseen thread is said to bind two souls by their pinky fingers. It may stretch across oceans, tangle in storms, or knot with time, but it will never break. Sooner or later, it will draw them face to face, as if the universe itself conspired for their meeting.

Jungkook sighed, the sound swallowed by the cavernous silence of his apartment. His eyes were fixed on the news broadcast, where the downfall of Jeon Corporation was being dissected with the grim solemnity of a state funeral. The ticker tape at the bottom of the screen scrolled like a vicious obituary. To the pundits, it was a sensational scandal, a corporate empire built on sand. For Jungkook, it was an autopsy of his life. The empire he had built over eight years of relentless work after his father's sudden death from cardiac arrest was crumbling in real-time. This was the company for which he had forsaken his dream of being a musician, and now he was a helpless witness as his hard work burned to hell.

That’s when his phone rang, shattering the heavy quiet. The screen lit up with the contact name darling 💖. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he answered the call, moving towards the floor-to-ceiling window.

"Listen to me, Lily, please," he said, the words strained. He pressed the heels of his palms against his forehead, trying to push back the throbbing ache that had taken root there.

His apartment was a monument to his success, a penthouse in the sky that now felt like a gilded cage. The interior was a study in cool, impersonal luxury: polished concrete floors partially covered by a vast, ivory-colored rug, low-slung minimalist furniture in shades of charcoal and silver, and stark white walls adorned with a few expensive but soulless pieces of abstract art. It was a space designed for a mogul, not a man, and in that moment, it felt profoundly empty.

He stared out at the view that had once filled him with a sense of conquest. New York was so alive, a pulsating grid of light and ambition that truly never slept. From the 60th floor, the city was a river of diamonds, with headlights and taillights flowing like molten gold and ruby through the concrete canyons. It was a breathtaking panorama of relentless life, a stark contrast to the death of his dreams happening inside.

"Lily, everything is going to be fine. Just stay with me, okay?" he implored, his voice a low, desperate whisper.

The voice on the other end was sharp, clipped, and utterly devoid of the warmth he craved. "Fine? Jungkook, be serious. My family is being hounded by reporters. My friends are sending me links to articles that call you a fraud. I can't put up with this anymore."

"It's a temporary setback. I will rebuild—"

"Rebuild what?" she cut him off, a harsh laugh echoing down the line. "Your reputation is in tatters. We were supposed to be planning a wedding, Jungkook, not a defense strategy. I didn't sign up for this... this chaos."

"So that's it?" he asked, the numbness beginning to spread through his chest. "The moment it gets difficult, you just walk away? What about 'for better or for worse'?"

"That's for marriages, Jungkook," she said, her tone final. "And we're not married. Consider this me dodging a bullet. I can't be with a man who has nothing left to offer but scandals and debt. Goodbye."

The line went dead. Jungkook stood frozen, the phone still pressed to his ear, listening to the dial tone that was somehow louder and more crushing than the vibrant, indifferent city sprawling beneath him. In the span of a single hour, he had lost everything.

Taehyung hummed a soft tune as he folded a soft, oversized sweater into his open suitcase. His room was a beautiful, cozy sanctuary that perfectly reflected its owner. Books weren't just on the shelves; they were stacked in teetering towers on the floor, bookmarked with train tickets and dried flowers. Fairy lights were draped haphazardly over the headboard of his bed, which was buried under a mountain of plushies. A large, well-loved copy of "The Little Prince" sat on his nightstand next to a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses. The walls were a gallery of polaroids, concert posters for indie bands, and postcards from places he dreamed of visiting. It was the warm, slightly chaotic nest of a nerdy, aesthetic GenZ boy who found comfort in stories and soft things.

That's when his phone started to ring, vibrating against a stack of poetry books on his cluttered study table. He walked over, weaving through the organized chaos, and picked it up. A soft smile touched his lips.

"Hi, Mom," he said, his voice instinctively cheery and warm.

There was a pause on the other end, filled with a breathy sigh. "Are you sure about this, Taehyung-ah? All by yourself?"

"Mom, I will be fine. I'm not 10 anymore, I'm 21," he reassured her, leaning against the table. He traced the cover of a book with his finger, his smile softening at the edges.

"I know, it's just... your father and I... we wish we could be there with you. We wish so many things were different. Please, forgive us for—"

Taehyung's breath hitched almost imperceptibly. He closed his eyes for a brief second, pushing back against the wave of sadness that threatened to dim his carefully constructed brightness. "Mom," he interrupted gently, but firmly. "I don't want to think about this anymore. Not now. The treatments, the hospitals... I just want to live for once. Okay? Really live."

The line was quiet for a moment, and when his mother's voice came back, it was thick with unshed tears, cracking under the weight of a love that felt helpless. "Yes. Okay, honey. Yes, you're right." She took a shaky breath. "Have lots of fun. So much fun. Take lots of pictures."

"I will, Mom. I promise," Taehyung whispered, his own throat feeling tight. "I love you."

"We love you more, our boy."

He ended the call and placed the phone back down, the cheerful energy in the room suddenly feeling fragile. He looked around at his cozy sanctuary, at the life he was leaving behind, and took a deep, steadying breath. Then, with renewed determination, he turned back to his suitcase, carefully placing his favorite book inside. It was time to go.

Jungkook took his car out, the low growl of the engine a violent sound in the quiet garage. His driver stepped forward, offering to drive, but Jungkook stopped him with a sharp, dismissive gesture. He needed to be in control of something, anything. He slid into the black BMW M8 Coupe, a machine that embodied the power and success he thought was his life, and sped off into the New York night.

That's not happening. The thought was a frantic drumbeat in his head. Lily can't leave him just like this. It was a mistake, a moment of panic. He was going to her apartment, he was going to reassure her, and everything would be fine. He would fix this, just like he fixed everything.

He reached her building, his movements a blur of parking and striding through the lobby. He took the elevator up, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. When he reached her door, he found it slightly ajar. A sliver of light cut into the dim hallway. A cold trickle of dread, entirely separate from the company's collapse, started down his spine.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The apartment was familiar, but the air felt different. Then he heard it muffled laughter, a man's low voice, a giggle he knew intimately, coming from the bedroom. The door was cracked open, just enough.

What he saw through that sliver broke him completely.

There was Lily. His Lily. But she was wrapped around another man, her fingers tangled in his hair, a look of pure, unburdened delight on her face that Jungkook hadn't seen in months. The scene was one of easy intimacy, of a connection that wasn't new.

Jungkook gulped harshly, the sound loud in the silent hallway. The realization was a physical blow, knocking the last vestiges of air from his lungs. So it wasn't about the company or his downfall. Not really. She already had a new man. That's why she was so eager, so hurried, to get rid of him. The scandal was just a convenient excuse.

He stumbled back, away from the door, away from the proof of his own blindness. He wondered, with a strange, detached clarity, how it was possible to break even when you were already shattered into a million pieces.

He ran. He didn't remember getting back to his car, but suddenly he was inside, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He roared out of the parking garage, the car's powerful engine a scream that matched the one trapped in his chest. He drove with no destination, the city lights blurring into meaningless streaks of color.

Eventually, he found himself parked on a quiet overlook, the city skyline glittering in the distance like a taunt. It was past midnight. A cold, damp breeze whipped off the river, carrying the promise of rain. The sky was a blanket of deep, bruised purple, starless and vast.

Jungkook sat on the cold bonnet of the BMW, a bottle of expensive whiskey in his hand a pathetic remnant of his old life. He took a long, burning swallow, the alcohol doing nothing to warm the icy hollowness inside him. The wind tugged at his hair and clothes, but he felt nothing. He was completely, utterly alone under the indifferent midnight sky, the ghost of Lily's laughter echoing in the silence, the final nail in the coffin of the man he used to be.

The vibration of his phone was an unwelcome intrusion against the cold silence. Jungkook stared at the screen, the name Namjoon glowing. He answered with a grunt, bringing the bottle of whiskey back to his lips.

“Jungkook… I’ve booked your tickets. For Kyoto, Japan. The flight leaves tomorrow morning,” Namjoon’s voice was calm, steady a lifeline thrown into a stormy sea.

The mention of a future, of plans, shattered the numb bubble Jungkook had built around himself. The raw wound gaped open anew. “Namjoon,” he interrupted, his voice cracking like thin ice. “Lily… she cheated on me.”

On the other end, Namjoon sighed. He wasn’t surprised. He had always seen the one-sided nature of their relationship how it was always Jungkook bending over backwards, buying her affection with grand gestures, while she remained perpetually ungrateful and picky. Jungkook had been too blind, too in love with the idea of having a family, to see it.

“I saw that coming, Jungkook,” Namjoon responded, his tone gentle but frank.

Jungkook scoffed, a bitter, hollow sound. “My company is gone. My girlfriend is gone. I already didn’t have a family. What am I left with?” The question hung in the cold night air, heavy with despair.

“You can’t give up, Jungkook,” Namjoon insisted, his voice firming with conviction. “The Jungkook I know built an empire from nothing. He’s the CEO of Jeon Corporation. And we are going to build it all back. But right now, more than business plans, you need a plan for yourself. Until the dust settles here, you need to be somewhere else. You need to sit with yourself and find a meaning in life again that doesn’t involve a boardroom or a woman who never deserved you.”

Jungkook could only offer a half-hearted nod, knowing Namjoon couldn’t see it. He had no energy left to argue. The fight had been drained out of him. He was to leave for Kyoto the next morning on the first flight. His heart was so full of anguish, yet he felt completely empty. He wanted to disappear into the anonymous crowds of a foreign city and never come back. Life was unbearably unfair. He had given his all, and what had he received? Nothing. Nothing at all but a wreck.

Across the continent, Taehyung was sitting up in his bed, his head resting against the cushioned headboard. A quiet, excited energy hummed beneath his skin, making sleep impossible. He couldn't wait to finally see Kyoto, to walk through the temples and gardens he had only ever visited in his dreams. He had a meticulously crafted bucket list, not of grand achievements, but of simple, beautiful experiences he wanted to feel just once in this lifetime.

Taehyung was a boy forged in the pages of books. His love for stories began in childhood with colorful picture books, evolved as a teenager into the poignant worlds of writers like Elif Shafak, and solidified at fifteen when he read Jane Eyre. He fell irrevocably in love with literature, and he never looked back. He was particularly enchanted by the complex romance between Jane and the brooding Mr. Rochester. Yet, for all his love of fictional love, Taehyung had never experienced it himself. It wasn't a priority. He held a quiet, steadfast belief that "the person who is for you will find you someday," which saved him from the drama of hollow hookups and complicated relationships. He was a smart, kind soul the kind of person who found solace in poetry, comfort in the soulful voice of Adele, and joy in collecting quirky crochet keychains for his beloved backpacks.

Taehyung loved life with a fierce intensity, born from the profound understanding that every moment is precious because it never returns. His philosophy was simple: do what makes you happy, without regrets. If it makes you happy, it makes you happy. It was that straightforward.

His life, however, had not been all rainbows and sunshine. His family was a fractured memory; his parents had separated when he was only seven. His mother had won custody, though a part of young Taehyung had always yearned for his gentle father. He understood, even then, that his father was a good man who simply couldn't love his mother the right way, and Taehyung blamed neither of them. As an only child, he bore the curse of loneliness. There were nights he cried so hard he would lose his breath and faint, only to be found by his exhausted mother returning from work, who would then rush him to the hospital.

But none of it not the illness, not the loneliness could extinguish Taehyung's radiant spirit. If anything, it fueled his determination to live every second to its absolute fullest. And so, with a heart full of hope and a backpack full of dreams, he was going on a solo trip. He was going to live.

_____________________________

Hi my pretty readers I hope you are all well and I hope you like this story of mine too.

I'm grateful for your support and love.

Please tell me how'd you like this story in comments.

here is their aesthetics and what they look like in this fic 

Chapter Text

"Though we may not know each other, our paths cross. This is called en."

— Japanese Proverb (Related to En or fate)

Taehyung had a journal. It wasn't just a notebook; it was a tangible piece of his soul. The cover was made of soft, worn-out brown leather, embossed with a constellation pattern that he would often trace with his fingers when searching for words. The pages within were a chaotic mix of his neat, looping handwriting, smudges of watercolor from when he tried to paint a sunset, and little Polaroid photos stuck haphazardly with washi tape. He loved journaling because it was his most honest coping mechanism. In a world where he often felt like a burden, the pages of his diary never judged him. He didn't care if he had no one who'd listen; he still had his diary, and so he would pour his heart out, writing it all down.

In that diary, after the sections filled with quotes from his favorite books and fleeting thoughts, there was a list. It was titled, in his best cursive, "Things I'd Love to Do." It was not a bucket list of grand adventures, but a collection of simple, beautiful experiences he wanted to feel before he could no longer feel anything.

He opened the journal now, the familiar scent of paper and ink calming his excited nerves. He found the list and looked at the very first entry:

· 1. Visit Kyoto during spring and witness the beautiful cherry blossoms.

A wide, genuine smile spread across his face. Taking a gel pen , he carefully cut a neat line through the words.  It was happening. He was going there.

He turned to his open suitcase, but his most precious travel companions were destined for his backpack. He picked up his warm, brown, fuzzy bear backpack the one with a little leather nose and soft, floppy ears. It was whimsical and comforting, just like him. Into its main compartment, he lovingly placed his essentials: his baby pink Polaroid camera, a pouch filled with an array of colorful gel pens for journaling on the go, his delicate glasses case, and a folder of his favorite stickers. He squeezed in a few of his most beloved books, their spines cracked from multiple readings.

Finally, he placed his headphones inside. Taehyung had his headphones with him almost all the time. To him, music was more than just sound; it was a beautiful, universal language that transcended all cultural and language barriers. It was a conversation with the soul. You could be a complete stranger to the person singing, yet hear their lyrics and feel profoundly seen, heard, and understood in a way words alone could never achieve. It was the purest form of magic he knew.

Jungkook packed his suitcase with mechanical, lifeless movements. Each folded shirt felt like a weight added to his soul. A profound exhaustion seeped into his bones, so deep he felt drained of everything will, hope, even the energy to despair. The thought, clear and terrifying, echoed in the silence: He wanted to die.

His life was a complete mess. At thirty, most people have their shit figured out a career, a partner, a future. Jungkook? He had built those things, only to watch them crumble into ruin. He was a king whose castle had turned to dust around him.

He felt dead and hollow inside, a shell of the man he used to be. A bitter, furious urge would rise in his throat he so badly wanted to shout in the faces of the journalists, to scream, "I did not do any fraud!" It was the people in his company, those he had trusted, and how stupid, how blindly arrogant he had been to be unaware of it all. The betrayal was a poison coursing through him.

He had no hope that everything would go back to how it was. And in his darkest moments, he'd think he didn't even want it to. The life he had built felt like a gilded cage now. He didn't want to rebuild an empire; he just wanted to disappear.

Sometimes, things like this happen to all of us. We pour our entire being into something our heart, our soul, our time only to receive nothing in return. In that moment, we feel useless, frustrated, and convinced it is the end of the world. But it is not. Sometimes, everything must crumble down so it can be built back again in a new way, in a stronger, truer form. They say behind every delay, there is a blessing hidden. Though he couldn't see it, couldn't possibly believe it, Jungkook was on the path to experiencing the most beautiful, transformative encounter of his life.

With a final, empty glance around the lavish apartment that now felt like a tomb, Jungkook lifted his suitcase. His face was pale and drawn, a mask of defeat. Without looking back, he moved out of the apartment, closing the door on the ghost of the man he once was.

Ever since Taehyung was young, he had heard the same careful refrains, the gentle warnings that formed the soundtrack of his life. "Don't run too fast, Taehyung-ah, your heart," his mother would call out, her voice laced with a love so fierce it was almost fear. "Remember, you need more rest than the other children." His world was measured in cardiology appointments and the solemn faces of doctors who would use phrases like "managing expectations" and "a fragile constitution." Every few months, it seemed, a new specialist would look at his charts and speak in hushed tones about having "a few years." Yet, Taehyung, with a stubbornness that belied his gentle nature, had stretched those few years into twenty-one. He had long ago decided that if his heart was a fragile, ticking clock, he wouldn't spend his time listening to the seconds wind down. He would fill each one with so much living that when death finally decided to wrap its arms around him, it would find a soul that had already been thoroughly, completely spent.

Jungkook stared out the airplane window, watching the endless expanse of clouds blur beneath him. It was a blank slate, a nothingness that mirrored the void inside his chest. His mind, against his will, replayed the life he had so carefully planned. A future with Lily. Their family a house filled with the laughter of two children. His company, growing stronger with each year. He had mapped it all out, every detail a testament to the control he thought he had. Now, all that remained were the ghosts of those plans, haunting him as memories.

A single, corrosive thought nagged at him, picking at the edges of his sanity: What did I lack?

Why had she chosen another man? Is this what love truly is to abandon someone at their absolute worst, after they had given you everything? The betrayal felt like a fundamental rewriting of reality. At that moment, hurtling through the sky, he felt utterly alone. It was a solitude so profound it was deafening. He felt that if there was someone to whom the worst had happened, it was him. Only and solely him. It was as if the entire, crushing weight of the world had settled squarely on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He just kept staring, unseeing, as images of Lily and their happiest moments struck his mind like a torturous slideshow.

Namjoon, ever practical, had booked him a hotel in Kyoto that was neither lavish nor shabby a place to stay low-key until the media storm passed. And honestly, Jungkook hated it. He hated the anonymity, the reduction from a CEO to a nobody hiding in a bland room. He didn't do anything wrong, and yet here he was, in exile.

As the plane began its descent, a dark, chilling resolve settled over him. A plan, simple and final, crystallized in his mind. He would close the door of that anonymous hotel room, swallow a handful of pills, or perhaps find a secluded cliff overlooking the city. That, he thought with a terrifying sense of peace, was the only true way to disappear.

Taehyung pushed through the heavy glass doors, his worn backpack slung over one shoulder, and immediately felt like he had stepped into a different world. The air was cool and subtly scented with green tea and sandalwood. The hotel lobby was a masterpiece of modern Japanese design, a symphony of clean lines and serene spaces.

The floor was a sleek, dark slate that reflected the soft, ambient lighting from geometric paper lanterns hanging from the high ceiling. To his right, a vast, minimalist wall was made of pale, natural wood, broken only by a single, dramatic ikebana flower arrangement where a single branch of cherry blossom arched elegantly from a black vase. A long, low-profile reception desk, crafted from a single piece of light-toned ash wood, stood ahead of him. Behind it, staff moved with quiet, efficient grace.

His eyes, however, were drawn to the left, where the entire wall was made of floor-to-ceiling glass, framing a breathtaking interior courtyard. A meticulously raked Zen garden of pale gravel swirled around a few strategically placed moss-covered rocks, creating a living piece of art. The simplicity was stunning. It was so different from the warm, cluttered coziness of his own room, but he found it beautiful in its peaceful precision. He walked across the silent lobby, his sneakers making barely a sound, and approached the reception desk, a bright, curious smile already on his face.

"Hello, could you please check for a reservation under the name Kim Taehyung?" he asked, his voice warm and cheerful.

The receptionist offered a polite bow. "Good evening, sir. Yes, of course, one moment please." She typed efficiently on her keyboard, her eyes scanning the screen. A moment later, she smiled and handed him a key card. "Here you are, Mr. Kim. Your room is 206. Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you so much!" Taehyung beamed, taking the card as if it were a golden ticket.

A wave of pure, unadulterated happiness washed over him. I'm really here. I'm in Japan. His mind was already buzzing with plans the temples he would visit, the streets he would wander, the thousands of pictures he would take with his Polaroid camera. He was going to soak in every single second.

Happily, he hoisted his backpack and made his way to the elevator, a light spring in his step. The corridor on the second floor was quiet and serene, with the same minimalist aesthetic as the lobby. He walked along the hushed hallway, counting down the room numbers until he found it: 206.

He stood before the door for a moment, a wide, satisfied smile spreading across his face. He took a deep, contented breath.

Nothing can stop me from enjoying my life, he thought, a silent, powerful promise to himself. With a hopeful heart, he slid the key card into the slot. A green light blinked, and with a soft click, he pushed the door open to his new adventure.

Jungkook had just reached his room, the sterile anonymity of it suffocating him more than the lavish emptiness of his penthouse ever had. Without even unpacking, he walked out onto the small, private terrace. The Kyoto skyline sprawled before him, ancient roofs mingling with modern lights, a world completely indifferent to his pain.

A chilling calm settled over him. He climbed onto the wide ledge, the cool concrete beneath his palms. His mind wasn't racing anymore; it was horrifyingly empty and blank. He was simply contemplating the finality of the drop.

Should I die? The question was quiet, almost clinical.

Would it be in vain?

Of course. No one is there to mourn me.

A flicker of thought, a ghost of loyalty, sparked inside him. Oh, yes, there is, a voice that sounded like his own conscience spoke. Namjoon is going to spend the rest of his life with the guilt of your death, because he booked this room for you. So don't.

But the nihilism quickly swallowed the spark. But then again, he thought, what is there to live for, if there is nothing to die for? He was mentally listing the pros and cons of his own extinction when a sound shattered the silence.

The electronic beep of a key card.

The soft click of his door opening.

Jungkook furrowed his brows, his dark thoughts interrupted by a spike of pure confusion. Who…? He turned his head slightly, his grip on the ledge tightening. Who on earth was entering his room?

Taehyung pushed the door open and stepped inside, his face instantly breaking into a beam of happiness. The room was even more beautiful than the lobby. It was a serene haven of modern Japanese design. A large, low-platform bed with crisp white linens dominated the space, facing a wall of sliding shoji screens that diffused the afternoon light into a soft, golden glow. The walls were a warm, pale wood, and a single, elegant calligraphy scroll hung above a minimalist wooden desk. It was peaceful, perfect, and exactly the kind of place he had dreamed of.

On the terrace, Jungkook heard the door open and close. The sound registered somewhere in the fog of his despair, but he dismissed it. He was too occupied with the chasm between life and death to care about an errant hotel maid or a mistaken guest. It was probably just his mind playing tricks, another symptom of his unraveling.

Meanwhile, Taehyung, wanting to see the view, moved towards the balcony. He slid the glass door open and stepped out only for his smile to vanish, replaced by pure horror.

There, on the wide ledge of the terrace, was the back of a man, his figure silhouetted against the sky. He was climbed up, poised on the edge.

Without a second thought, propelled by a surge of adrenaline, Taehyung lunged forward. He didn't shout; he acted. He grabbed the man firmly by the hem of his shirt and yanked him backward with all his strength.

The result was a chaotic tumble. Jungkook, ripped from his dark contemplation, crashed down onto the hard terrace floor, Taehyung falling right on top of him in a tangled heap of limbs, shock, and shattered intentions

“Who the f—” Jungkook huffed, the air knocked out of him, his voice a low growl of pure annoyance. He was sprawled on the cold terrace floor, his entire body throbbing from the sudden impact.

As he looked up, his angry retort died in his throat.

The person who had pulled him down was still half-lying on top of him, and in that frozen moment, Jungkook was struck by a face of startling beauty. He possessed the kind of sculpted features that seemed to defy the harshness of the modern world. His hair was a rich, dark brown, cut into a shaggy, medium-length style that hinted at a charming disregard for neatness. It fell with a soft, almost wet look, with a few damp strands clinging to his temple and the side of his cheek, suggesting how worked up he’d become seeing a man on the ledge. The subtle, inward curl of the locks around his ears gave him an almost ethereal, softly androgynous appeal.

The strong line of his jaw and the elegant curve of his neck offered a stark contrast to the delicacy of his upper features. His skin was flawlessly fair, catching the soft, diffused light, which highlighted a subtle, dark mole positioned right beneath the curve of his lower lip a small, alluring punctuation mark. The true focus, however, was his expression. His eyes, a warm, terrified brown, were wide with shock. His lips, full and naturally pigmented, were slightly parted from the adrenaline.

For a disorienting second, Jungkook almost thought he’d been saved by a woman.

The spell broke as Taehyung hurriedly scrambled off him, dusting off his baggy jeans with quick, nervous pats. Jungkook stood up too, his own body tense with a mixture of fury and residual shock. He towered over the stranger, his expression dark.

“Who are you,” Jungkook demanded, his tone hollow and sharp as a blade, “and what are you doing in my room?”

“Who am I?” Taehyung shot back, his hands gripping the straps of the backpack he was still wearing. “Who are you, mister? And why were you trying to jump off the terrace of my room?”

When he spoke, his voice was a deep, soothing baritone, surprisingly melodious. That was when Jungkook’s brain fully registered the reality: this was unmistakably a man, not a woman. Now that he looked properly, he took in the boy’s outfit: a oversized, soft-looking graphic tee swallowed his frame, tucked haphazardly into baggy, light-wash jeans. His backpack, a warm brown color, was decorated with an array of cute crochet keychains little bears, strawberries, and a small planet that jingled softly with his movement.

Whose lost kid is this? Jungkook thought, a fresh wave of exasperation washing over him. This was the last thing he needed.

"And what do you mean by your room? This is my room," Taehyung insisted, pointing a determined finger toward the interior where his fuzzy backpack now sat on the floor.

Jungkook shook his head, a bitter, weary sigh escaping him. "There's clearly been some mistake. Where are your parents, kid? Stop annoying me. You're making this difficult." He brought a hand up to rub his temples, where a headache was beginning to pound in rhythm with his racing heart.

"I'm making it difficult for you?" Taehyung’s eyes widened in disbelief. "You should be thanking me! I saved you!"

"Saved me?" Jungkook asked, the words laced with a scoff that couldn't quite mask a tremor of pain. "From what?"

"And, by the way," Taehyung added, straightening his posture to seem taller, "I am not a kid. I'm twenty-one."

Jungkook wasn't having it. He had already seen enough betrayal and chaos to last a lifetime; he had no emotional capacity left to deal with a stubborn stranger, kid or not, who was messing up the one thing he thought he had control over his own end. He was exhausted, hollowed out, and completely done.

"Show me your key," Jungkook demanded, his voice tight.

Taehyung, still flustered, fumbled in his pocket and held up the key card. The number, clear as day, was 206.

If this was Taehyung's room, then which one was his?

"There's clearly been some misunderstanding. I'll go and check," Jungkook stated flatly. He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. He needed to get away from this boy and the chaotic energy he brought with him.

Taehyung stood alone for a moment, utterly confused, before his concern overrode his bewilderment. He hurried out after the brooding stranger. "Mister! Wait! Tell me something, why were you trying to jump?" he asked, catching up and walking alongside him in the corridor.

Jungkook didn't reply. He simply lengthened his stride, hoping that if he ignored him, the boy would eventually get the hint and leave him alone. It's so stupid, he thought bitterly. How do people these days have no sense of boundaries? Why is this guy acting so familiar, like we've known each other for centuries?

"You're too rude! That's really rude, you know!" Taehyung continued, undeterred, his hands tightly gripping the straps of his backpack. "You should not ignore someone when they're talking to you!"

Jungkook marched toward the elevators, a storm cloud in human form, with Taehyung fluttering around him like a persistent, chatty sparrow.

"So, is it your first time in Kyoto? It's my first time! I've wanted to see the cherry blossoms since I was little," Taehyung said, his voice echoing slightly in the hallway.

Jungkook remained silent, his eyes fixed ahead.

"The flight was long, wasn't it? I watched three movies. Do you like movies? My favorite is—"

Jungkook reached the elevator bank and stabbed the down button with more force than necessary.

"Are you here with your family?" Taehyung's curiosity spiked, undeterred by the lack of response.

"No," Jungkook bit out, the single word cold and sharp.

The elevator doors slid open. Jungkook stepped inside and immediately pressed the 'Close' button, hoping to leave the nuisance behind.

"Stop! Stop! No, no, I want to come too!" Taehyung yelped, launching into a sprint. He just barely slipped through the closing doors, stumbling inside with a gasp. "Phew! That was close!"

Jungkook closed his eyes for a second, praying for patience. The elevator was now filled with Taehyung's loud, excited energy.

"You're here alone, then? Me too! It's a solo trip. My mom was so worried, but I told her I'm an adult. Do you think 21 is an adult? I feel like it is, but some people still treat me like a kid."

Silence from Jungkook.

"I have a whole list of places I want to go. Kiyomizu-dera Temple, Fushimi Inari with all the gates... Do you have a plan? Maybe we could—"

"No," Jungkook interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

But it was like trying to stop a river with a spoon. Taehyung simply switched topics, his enthusiasm unabated. "Okay... Well, the weather is supposed to be perfect tomorrow. Sunny! Not like the gloomy weather today. It matches your vibe, though. No offense."

Jungkook stared at his own grim reflection in the elevator doors, wondering what he had done to deserve this final, bizarre torment.

Jungkook strode towards the reception desk, his last shred of patience evaporating. Taehyung trailed behind him, a silent but palpable presence.

"Could you please tell me what room is reserved for Jeon Jungkook?" Jungkook asked, his voice strained with the effort of remaining calm.

The receptionist tapped on her keyboard. "It's room number 206, sir."

Jungkook turned slowly, a dark look on his face. "What is your name?" he asked Taehyung.

"Taehyung. Kim Taehyung," he replied, a little cautiously.

Jungkook looked back at the receptionist. "Yes. And could you please tell me what room is under the name Kim Taehyung?"

The receptionist's smile faltered as she checked again. "It's... it's 206 as well."

Jungkook let out a long, slow breath, trying his absolute best not to shout. "Well, as you can see, we are not related, and we have been assigned the same room. There is clearly some misunderstanding."

The receptionist's cheeks flushed. "Oh, dear. There must have been a double-booking error from the logistics department. I am so, so sorry, sir. This season is our peak; every hotel in Kyoto is heavily booked because of the cherry blossoms. The system must have..." she trailed off, looking genuinely distressed. "I've just checked, and I'm afraid there isn't a single other room available in the entire hotel."

"How can you be so careless?" Jungkook's voice rose, his composure cracking. "This is unacceptable!"

A man in a sharper suit, the manager, appeared swiftly. His name tag read Jung Hoseok. "Sir, please, you don't have to get mad. We are extremely sorry for this massive oversight."

"Sorry doesn't fix this," Jungkook snapped.

"I understand your frustration," Manager Hoseok said with a placating bow. "The only solution at this moment is that you gentlemen would have to share the room. We are deeply apologetic. One of the rooms will be getting free soon. We will give it to one of you immediately. You just need to adjust together until then."

Before Jungkook could erupt, Taehyung's face lit up. "Share the room? That's like... fate wanted us to stay together! Maybe we're good for each other!" he said, beaming as if they'd just won a prize. "I don't mind! It's fine with me!"

Jungkook stared, first at the overly cheerful manager, then at the utterly delighted Taehyung. A fresh, profound wave of despair washed over him. He felt like dying all over again. How was he supposed to share a room, to "adjust," with this human chatterbox who viewed a logistical nightmare as an act of destiny? It was a cosmic joke, and he was the punchline.

Chapter Text

“Falling in love is like finding a light in a room you thought would always stay dark.”

----------- banana yoshimoto 

Taehyung happily started unpacking, pulling out the cute, oversized fits he’d carefully selected for his tour. He began arranging them in the shared cupboard, humming a soft tune. As he did, he glanced over at Jungkook, who was slumped in the single armchair, phone pressed to his ear with a grim expression. Seeing the deep lines of frustration on the man’s face, Taehyung furrowed his brows and pouted in sympathy.

In that moment, a new conviction settled in Taehyung’s heart. This felt like a grave mission given to him by the universe. On his bucket list was an item: Help someone change their perspective on life. And here was the perfect candidate. This man was clearly so done with life Taehyung didn't know why, but the evidence was overwhelming. He had been on the ledge of a terrace, he was cold, closed-off, and he looked utterly exhausted and hollow. Right then, Taehyung decided he would help Jungkook see life as beautiful again. He would stay by his side throughout this trip.

Humming with renewed purpose, he finished organizing his side of the cupboard and turned towards the brooding man.

“Do you want me to help you unpack your suitcase, too?” he asked cheerfully, moving towards Jungkook’s luggage.

“No,” Jungkook said hurriedly, his head snapping up. “Don’t touch my things.”

Taehyung pouted. “You’re too rude. I was just trying to help you.”

“You don’t need to help me, okay? We are strangers,” Jungkook said, his voice low and dangerous. “Tell me something—do I know you?”

“No,” Taehyung shook his head slowly, contemplating.

“Yes, you don’t, and I don’t either. We are quite literally strangers, so you can’t invade my personal space. That’s basic human decency.”

“But then again,” Taehyung countered, sitting down on the edge of the bed directly in front of Jungkook, “helping someone isn’t wrong.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes bright with determination. “Okay! Let’s start from getting to know each other. My name is Kim Taehyung. I am 21. I’m from Seoul, South Korea, and I love to read, journal, collect stickers, do photography, and listen to music. I love travelling, too it’s obvious, haha! That’s why I came here. I am so glad and grateful for this opportunity.” He finished his speech by forwardly extending his hand for a shake.

Jungkook’s eyes dropped to the offered hand. It wasn't a "manly" hand; it was beautiful, with slim, dainty fingers and skin that looked impossibly soft.

“I just told you not to invade my privacy,” Jungkook said, his voice trembling with suppressed anger. “I am not shaking hands with you, and I am not interested in getting to know you. Please, leave me alone.”

“They say you always feel lighter when you share with someone,” Taehyung persisted, undeterred. “You know, there’s a Japanese saying: ichi-go ichi-e. ‘One time, one meeting.’ It means that every encounter is unique and will never happen again. So, you must cherish every moment. I think us meeting like this… it’s not coincidental. It’s decided.”

That was the final straw. Here he was, his life in ruins, and this kid was lecturing him about fate and cherished moments. Fate was nothing to Jungkook. A man works hard and builds his life; nothing is handed to you by destiny. The dam finally broke.

“Listen to me, kid,” he said, his voice rising, thick with anger and madness. He stood up, looming over Taehyung. “I am not here on a happy little tourism trip like you! I am not seeking company, and I do not like strangers invading my personal space! For the past hour, ever since we met, you have been blabbering non-stop blah, blah, blah! I am not interested in getting to know you! I am not interested in what you like or who you are! Leave me alone! Don’t fucking keep on yapping! It’s fucking annoying, okay?!”

He breathed heavily, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing with a fury that had been building for weeks. His face was a twisted mask of frustration and pain. Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him with a force that shook the walls.

The room fell into a stunned, heavy silence, leaving Taehyung alone with the echo of the slam and the shattered pieces of his well-intentioned mission.

Taehyung sighed, the sound small in the sudden quiet of the room. What just happened? The man had just screamed at him with a raw, visceral anger and dashed out as if the room were on fire.

He took a deep breath, hugging his arms around himself. "It's okay," he coaxed himself softly. "He's just hurting. Something heavy is gnawing at him, and he acted on impulse. Everything is fine. We can try again when he's feeling a bit better." It was a mantra of forgiveness he’d learned to apply to the world, a necessary shield for a sensitive soul.

Needing air, he got up and walked out onto the terrace where their dramatic meeting had occurred. Leaning against the railing, he stared out at the night.

Kyoto at night was a different kind of magic. The city was a tapestry of darkness punctuated by countless pinpricks of light warm gold from traditional lanterns lining narrow streets, cool white from modern buildings, and the distant, hazy glow of downtown. The silhouettes of tiled roofs cascaded down into the darkness, creating a serene, undulating landscape. A sliver of moon hung in the clear, inky sky, its pale light catching the edges of clouds. The air was cool and carried the faint, clean scent of rain from an earlier shower. It was peaceful, vast, and humbling. The world was so big, and his problems, and even Jungkook's, felt both immense and small under this endless sky. He stood there for a long time, just breathing, letting the quiet beauty of the night soothe his momentarily shaken spirit.

Jungkook walked out of the hotel, the automatic doors sliding shut behind him like a final verdict. It was the last week of March, and the Kyoto night air was sharp and cold, biting through his clothes. The temperature would drop as low as 4 degrees tonight, a stark contrast to the mild 14-degree afternoons. He was dressed in a sweater that seemed a perfect reflection of his tumultuous inner world. The lower half and sleeves were a muffled, soft cream knit, a fragile base that was immediately overtaken by the dramatic design of the upper section. A broad, fuzzy black yoke, textured like a storm cloud or a heavy coat of mourning, covered his shoulders and chest. Across this dark plane, scattered, stylized white and grey stars were embroidered, giving the impression of a fleeting night sky held captive. The effect was one of striking contrast: soft light dominated by dark, chaotic beauty. A thin silver chain peeked just above the knit, catching the subtle light of the streetlamps, while a simple, dark leather belt with a dull buckle cinched his dark trousers, grounding the entire look with a desperate, fading air of sophisticated control.

He turned onto a narrow pathway that ran alongside a narrow canal, the water black and still except for the occasional ripple from a hidden source. Traditional wooden machiya houses lined the street, their slatted windows dark, their silhouettes quiet and ancient. Stone lanterns cast soft, pools of golden light onto the cobblestones, illuminating the delicate branches of willow trees that wept towards the water. The world was hushed, the only sounds the distant hum of a main road and the solitary echo of his own footsteps.

His hands stuffed deep in his pockets, he walked with no destination. He just decided to walk and walk until his feet gave up or his mind went blank. After he had walked a good mile, the cold seeping into his bones, his thoughts inevitably circled back to the stranger who now probably occupied the room he’d fled.

That kid… he was probably just trying to cheer me up. I shouldn't have screamed at him.

The admission was grudging. What else did he expect from him? He was literally a naive kid who thought life was all sunshines and rainbows. Jungkook almost scoffed aloud at the idea. Taehyung. That’s what the guy had said his name was. He’s probably an aimless, spoiled brat, the kind who’s never faced real hardship, who thinks life is about enjoying it, reading books, and collecting stickers.

The judgment felt familiar, a protective shell. But it was absurd, and beneath the anger, Jungkook still felt a prickling sense of shame. He felt sorry for being so rude. The kid, for all his annoying chatter, had done nothing but show concern. And Jungkook had treated him like he was the embodiment of all his misery.

Dear diary,

I am in Kyoto! In my room… oh, no, not only mine. I'm sharing it with someone. His name is Jungkook. He is… intense. He has the most striking face—beautiful, really, but in a very sad, sharp way. His eyes are so dark and heavy, like he’s carrying the weight of the world inside them. He has this strong jaw that’s always clenched, and the way he carries himself is so stiff, like he might break if he relaxes for even a second.

He seems utterly miserable right now. I mean, I found him on the terrace ledge, so that’s a pretty clear sign. I believe we were given the same room for a reason. It can't be a coincidence. I think I'm supposed to help him, to pull him out of whatever dark place he's in. My mission for this trip has just become very clear.

Kyoto is beautiful at night. The lights from the city look like fallen stars. I hope he’s okay out there. It's very cold.

Taehyung

Taehyung closed his journal, the soft cover making a faint thud. He had been sitting on the edge of the bed for a good while after writing, and Jungkook still wasn't back. The initial excitement of his mission began to curdle into a slow, creeping worry.

The image of Jungkook on the ledge flashed in his mind, followed by a more terrifying thought: What if he’s out there right now and decides to go through with it somewhere else?

That thought was enough to propel him into action. He couldn't just sit here. Hurriedly, he pulled on his pink, fluffy sweater over his clothes, the soft material a small comfort against the sudden chill of fear. He didn't bother changing out of his comfortable jeans, just shoved his feet into his sneakers, grabbed his key card, and headed out the door.

The hotel lobby was quiet. Taehyung pushed through the main doors and was greeted by the crisp night air. He paused for a moment, looking left and right down the empty street. Where would a broken man go? Taking a deep breath, Taehyung chose a direction at random and started walking, his eyes scanning the shadows, hoping to find the silhouette of a stormy sweater against the night.

Taehyung knew they were strangers. He knew, logically, that he had nothing to do with this man and certainly no right to dictate his choices. He was probably no one to Jungkook—just an annoying nag who had overstayed his welcome the moment they met.

But the man needed help. It was a simple, undeniable truth that resonated in Taehyung's very bones. It wasn't about being nosy or forcing friendship. It was about seeing another human being drowning and feeling compelled to throw a lifeline. If he could pull Jungkook out of the deep well he was drowning in, then Taehyung would feel that his own life, however short, had served a profound purpose. He could die happy knowing he had done something that truly mattered.

People often believed that those who attempted suicide were cowards that they had given up on life, were consumed by negativity, and were, in essence, losers. But from Taehyung's perspective, shaped by his own brushes with mortality, they were simply drowning people. They weren't weak; they were exhausted. In the deepest, darkest part of their being, they weren't wishing for an end they were desperately, silently hoping for someone to notice their struggle, to extend a hand with a warm, non-judgmental smile, and pull them back to shore.

He walked on, the empty street stretching before him under the dim glow of the lanterns. His breath misted in the cold air, but his resolve burned warm within him. He would keep looking.

Jungkook had walked until the cold seeped through his sweater and the anger had burned down to a dull, weary ember. Turning around, he began the long trudge back towards the hotel, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his head bowed against the chill.

That’s when he saw a figure at the far end of the street, a splash of pink moving toward him under the glow of the traditional stone lanterns. Jungkook stopped. It was that kid.

Taehyung saw him at the same moment and came to a halt, a visible, relieved sigh leaving his lips in a white cloud. They stood for a second at opposite ends of the quiet canal path, the black water reflecting the moon between them. The world was silent except for the whisper of the wind through the willow trees.

Then, Taehyung rushed forward. "Misteeerrr!" he called out, his voice too loud for the sleeping street, his face contouring with happiness and lighting up like a lantern itself.

Jungkook just looked at him, utterly confused. It was past midnight. Why was this kid, who had never been to Kyoto before, wandering around empty, unfamiliar streets?

For a moment, Jungkook braced himself, thinking Taehyung would collide into him, but the boy skidded to a graceful stop right in front of him, his chest heaving slightly.

"Where have you been? I was so worried! You call me a kid, but you're more like one, running off like that!" Taehyung scolded, but there was no malice in his tone, only genuine concern.

Jungkook simply stared at him, at the fluffy pink sweater and the earnest eyes. He couldn't process the sheer, illogical worry. He shook his head slowly, a gesture of pure bewilderment, and then decided words were futile. He simply walked past him, continuing his path toward the hotel.

Undeterred, Taehyung fell into step beside him, his chatter immediately filling the quiet night. "It's so cold, right? I thought you might have turned into an ice sculpture! I was going to look for you by the river, but then I thought, what if you went to find food? But then I saw you coming from this direction, and I'm so glad I did because what if you got lost? This place is like a maze at night! You shouldn't wander off like that, it's not safe, and I was getting really—"

Jungkook didn't reply. He just kept walking, the sound of Taehyung's voice a bizarre, persistent soundtrack to his walk of shame back to a shared room and a life he didn't want.

“Why do you never reply to me?” Taehyung said, stepping into the elevator right beside Jungkook. The doors slid shut, enclosing them in a sterile, silent box. “Acknowledging someone when they’re talking to you is basic human decency.”

Jungkook’s eyes remained fixed on the numbered panel lighting up. “To keep talking to someone who doesn’t know you and is not interested in knowing you is not basic decency, kid,” he replied, his voice flat, his face a mask devoid of any emotion.

He had thought, for a fleeting moment out on the cold street, that he might apologize. But not anymore. This kid just never shut up. It was relentless. People should not let their kids like this go out on solo trips, he thought with a fresh wave of irritation. They’re such a nuisance.

“Well, I was worried about you,” Taehyung said, pouting as the elevator continued its ascent.

“That’s the thing. That’s what I have been explaining to you,” Jungkook said, feeling the familiar irritation bubble in his chest. “You don’t need to be worried about me. Because we are nothing.”

“Well, I—” Taehyung was ready to launch into another defense, his optimism seemingly inexhaustible.

But the elevator chimed, cutting him off. The doors opened onto their floor.

“No. No, please, save it,” Jungkook said, holding up a hand. He didn’t wait for a response, quickly stepping out and striding down the corridor toward their room, a man desperately fleeing a conversation. The sound of Taehyung’s hurried footsteps followed close behind, a persistent echo he couldn’t escape, a reminder that for now, his solitude was a lost cause. The door to room 206 awaited, a threshold not just to a shared space, but to a forced coexistence he was utterly unprepared for.

Chapter Text

“Love is so different from what we imagine; it comes stealthily, in the dark, and suddenly the heart is no longer one’s own.”

Taehyung was kneeling beside the mattress, staring at Jungkook's face closely. He tilted his head, studying the sleeping man. He looked so peaceful right now no furrowed brows, no hollow, empty eyes, no hardened jaw. The lines of stress had smoothed away in sleep.

He doesn't look much older than me, Taehyung thought. So why does he keep addressing me like he's forty or something?

Taehyung had woken up early, buzzing with excitement to visit the Toji Temple. After washing up, he’d quietly gone down to a cafe in the hotel for breakfast. He had decided to let Jungkook sleep, assuming the man had been up late with his troubles.

That’s when Jungkook’s phone on the nightstand started vibrating, lighting up with the name Namjoon Hyung. Taehyung hesitated. He thought the ringing would wake Jungkook, but the man didn't even stir. Biting his lip, Taehyung made a decision. He carefully picked up the phone and answered.

"Hello?" he whispered, walking quickly toward the sitting area.

"Hello, Jungkook?" a deep, calm voice spoke from the other side.

"It's, um, it's not him. It's me. I'm Taehyung," he clarified, sitting on the couch.

There was a brief, startled pause. "Oh? Did something happen to Jungkook? Where is he? Who are you?" Namjoon's voice was now laced with immediate concern.

"No, no! Nothing happened to him," Taehyung reassured hurriedly. "He's right here, sleeping on the floor in front of me."

"And... who are you?" Namjoon asked again, his tone a mixture of confusion and caution.

"Well, it's a bit of a story," Taehyung began, speaking in a hushed, rapid tone. "There was a mix-up at the hotel. They double-booked the room, so we ended up sharing. My name is Kim Taehyung. And, well... last night, when I first got here, I found him... on the terrace ledge. I pulled him down. He was really upset, and he's been very grumpy ever since. I think he's going through a lot."

On the other end, Namjoon was silent for a long moment, processing the flood of information. The pieces clicked into place: the double-booking, the mention of the terrace ledge confirming his worst fears about Jungkook's state of mind, and this unexpected stranger in the middle of it all.

"I see," Namjoon finally said, his voice softening with a sigh of relief and gratitude. "Taehyung-ssi, thank you for telling me. And... thank you for being there. For pulling him down." He paused. "Please, just tell him to call me when he wakes up. And... take care of him for a little while longer, if you can. He... he really needs it right now."

"I will!" Taehyung said, his voice bright with a sense of confirmed purpose. "I'll make sure he calls you. Don't worry."

"Thank you," Namjoon said again before ending the call.

Taehyung decided to place the phone back on the nightstand as quietly as possible. He tiptoed around to the side of the mattress where it was pushed against the bed frame. Leaning over carefully, he stretched out his arm to set the phone down. But just as his fingers left the device, Jungkook stirred in his sleep, rolling slightly. Startled, Taehyung lost his balance. With a small yelp, he slipped, tumbling forward and landing right on top of Jungkook with a soft thud.

"Ow," Taehyung mumbled, more from surprise than pain.

Jungkook’s eyes flew open. The first thing he saw, blurred by sleep and mere inches from his own, was Taehyung’s face. Those wide, warm brown eyes were staring right into his, close enough that Jungkook could see the faint flecks of gold in them. A few strands of Taehyung’s dark hair brushed against his forehead. For a single, disorienting second, there was no sound, no context just the shocking proximity of another person.

Then, instinct took over. Jungkook’s body went rigid, and he pushed Taehyung away with a sharp, reflexive shove. "What the—" he grunted, scrambling into a sitting position on the mattress, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Taehyung landed on the floor with a less graceful thump. He sat up, rubbing his elbow where it had made contact with the hardwood. "Hey! That hurt!"

Jungkook ran a hand through his disheveled hair, the sleep evaporating to be replaced by pure irritation. The strange intimacy of the moment had vanished, leaving only annoyance in its wake. "What were you doing?" he demanded, his voice rough with sleep and anger. "Why were you on top of me?"

Taehyung, still sitting on the floor and rubbing his elbow, looked up with an expression of pure, unadulterated innocence. "I wasn't on top of you on purpose! Your phone rang, and I was just trying to put it back without waking you. You moved and I slipped!"

"My phone rang?" Jungkook's irritation immediately sharpened into concern. He grabbed the device from the nightstand. "Who was it? Did you answer my phone?"

"It was Namjoon Hyung! And yes, I did," Taehyung declared, getting to his feet and brushing off his pajama pants as if he'd just completed a very important mission. "I thought it was important. You were sleeping so deeply, like a bear in hibernation. It would have been a shame to wake you."

Jungkook stared at him, incredulous. "You... you answered a private call. From my best friend. Who you don't know."

"Well, I know him a little now!" Taehyung countered cheerfully. "He sounds very nice. And worried about you. He said to call him back when you wake up." He leaned in a little, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Which you are now. So, you're welcome."

Jungkook simply blinked, too stunned by the sheer audacity to form a coherent sentence. He just shook his head, a slow, disbelieving motion.

"Anyway," Taehyung continued, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "I'm all ready! I'm going to the Toji Temple today. It's going to be amazing. You should get ready too! The day is wasting!"

"I am not going to a temple with you," Jungkook stated flatly, lying back down and pulling the thin blanket over his head. "Go away. And don't answer my phone again."

A muffled voice came from under the covers. "It's too early for your relentless sunshine."

Taehyung grinned, undeterred by the human burrito on the floor. "It's 9:30! And sunshine is good for grumpy bears! It helps them come out of their caves!"

The only response from the blanket was a low, deliberate groan. Taehyung took that as a temporary victory and hummed a tune as he went to double-check his backpack, giving Jungkook a moment to process the fact that his self-imposed exile was now shared with a human golden retriever.

Jungkook stood up, the conversation with Taehyung leaving a strange buzz in the air. He needed to talk to someone sane. Grabbing his phone, he moved out onto the terrace, closing the glass door behind him to shut out the cheerful noise. The morning air was crisp, the sky a clear, pale blue.

He dialed, and Namjoon answered on the first ring.

"Hi, hyung,"Jungkook said, his voice deep and hollow against the backdrop of the waking city.

"Jungkook-ah." Namjoon’s tone was heavy with relief and concern. "How are you? Really."

"How do you think?" Jungkook replied, the words laced with a depressive cynicism. "I'm in a foreign country, sharing a room with a stranger because my life is such a spectacular failure."

"I spoke to him. Taehyung," Namjoon said, carefully. "He seems... nice."

Jungkook let out a short, bitter laugh. "Nice? He's a literal stupid kid who thinks life is a bed of roses. He's irritating, hyung. He never stops talking." As he spoke, he turned and looked through the glass door. Taehyung was inside, happily packing his backpack, carefully arranging his water bottle, his camera, and a guidebook. The morning sunlight streamed into the room, catching him perfectly, making his fluffy hair look like a halo and his skin glow. He looked ridiculously golden, bright, and happy everything Jungkook wasn't in that moment. A thought, unbidden and quiet, escaped Jungkook’s lips in a whisper. "He is ridiculously bright."

Namjoon heard the shift in his tone. "See? Maybe that's not a bad thing. Jungkook, listen to me. I sent you there so you could reflect, not rot. You need to make peace with what happened and find a way to move forward. To try again. Not to die. Do you understand me?"

Jungkook didn't answer, his eyes still fixed on Taehyung, who was now doing a little, unconscious wiggle as he zipped up his bag.

"Don't be so hard on him," Namjoon continued, his voice softening. "And if not for yourself right now, then for the people who value you... for me... you have to try to come out of this."

Jungkook watched the scene inside the room a picture of simple, hopeful anticipation. He let out a long, weary sigh, the fight draining out of him. "I have to go, hyung."

"Jungkook—"

"I'll talk to you later." He ended the call, not waiting for a reply. He stayed on the terrace, his hands gripping the railing, the image of a ridiculously bright boy burned into his mind, a stark contrast to the darkness that clung to his own soul.

Jungkook came back into the room, the weight of the phone call still heavy on his shoulders. Taehyung was standing by the door, ready, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack. He raised his eyebrows in a hopeful question. Jungkook responded with a deeply annoyed face.

"What are you doing here, looking at me like that?" Jungkook grumbled, walking past him. "Weren't you going? Go on."

"I'm waiting for you," Taehyung said, gesturing towards Jungkook as if he were the final piece of luggage.

Not again, Jungkook thought, a fresh wave of exhaustion washing over him. "I have no interest whatsoever in accompanying you on stupid sightseeing."

"Well, it's not stupid!" Taehyung protested, his voice taking on a dramatic, informative tone. "Haven't you heard? The Toji Temple is literally so mesmerizing! You should definitely see it. It will end this depression of yours."

"No," Jungkook said, the word cold and final. He walked towards the bathroom, seeking the only sanctuary available.

But Taehyung was quicker, darting forward to hold the door before Jungkook could close it. "If you don't accompany me," he declared, pouting, "then I'll stay with you in this room all day. Because I don't like going out alone."

Jungkook stared at him, disbelief warring with irritation. "You literally came on a solo trip because you love travelling alone," he countered, his tone flat and so, so done.

A faint blush crept up Taehyung's neck. He'd been caught in his own exaggeration. "Well, that... that's different," he stammered, embarrassed.

"But still," he recovered, digging in his heels, "you should come with me. Please?"

"No." Jungkook tried to pull the door shut.

"Okay, then! I'll stay with you all day!" Taehyung announced. He released the door, marched over to the bed, and plopped down with a determined expression, crossing his arms.

Jungkook shook his head, a gesture of utter defeat. Without another word, he closed the bathroom door, leaving a triumphant Taehyung sitting on the bed, ready to wait him out.

Jungkook came out of the bathroom, steam curling out behind him. He was dressed in plain black trousers but was still shirtless, using a small towel to roughly dry his hair. Taehyung, who had been patiently waiting on the bed, felt his mouth fall slightly agape.

Jungkook’s torso was a landscape of lean, defined muscle, glistening with residual water droplets that tracked paths down his chest and abdomen. But what truly captured Taehyung's attention was the intricate sleeve tattoo that adorned his right arm. It was a masterpiece of dark ink, swirling all the way from his shoulder down to his wrist, a complex tapestry of patterns and imagery that Taehyung couldn't decipher in the quick glance but found utterly mesmerizing. Jungkook, completely oblivious to the stunned scrutiny, simply picked up a simple, full-sleeved black shirt from his suitcase and pulled it on, the fabric hiding the art and the physique in one practiced motion.

"I could've been lying here alone peacefully," Jungkook muttered, finally ruffling his damp hair into place, "but there had to be you here somehow."

Taehyung was flustered, a warm blush creeping up his neck. "You... you have tattoos?" he managed to get out, getting up and walking closer to Jungkook as if drawn by a magnet.

Jungkook looked at him with a blank expression. "I do?" he said, as if wondering what was so extraordinary about it.

"That's so cool!" Taehyung exclaimed, his initial shock quickly morphing into his usual, overwhelming cheer. "Oh my god, what is it of? Is there a story? I've always wanted a tattoo! A small one, maybe a quote from my favorite book or a little star. But I could never," he rambled on, following Jungkook around the room. "I'm too scared of the pain. Was it super painful? It looks like it took forever! How many sessions did you—"

"It's just ink," Jungkook cut him off, his tone utterly deadpan. He grabbed his wallet and phone, completely ignoring the barrage of questions, and walked straight out of the room.

But Taehyung was undeterred. Like an excited puppy who’d just been shown a new toy, he hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders and scampered after him, the questions about tattoos now seamlessly blending into a commentary about the weather and the best route to the temple, his voice a constant, cheerful echo in Jungkook's wake.

"Can I touch your tattoos?" Taehyung asked, running a few steps to match Jungkook's long, hurried stride.

"No," Jungkook deadpanned, not even breaking his pace or looking at him.

"Why are you always so grumpy?" Taehyung persisted, falling into step beside him. He put a hand on his own cheek, fluttering his eyelashes in an exaggerated display of innocence. "Don't you think it's just so cruel to be so mean to someone like me? I'm very sensitive, you know."

Jungkook cringed so hard it was almost physical. "Stay away," he grunted, finally reaching the elevator bank and stabbing the button with more force than necessary.

The doors slid open and he stepped inside, hoping for a moment of silence. Taehyung, of course, slipped in right beside him.

"Okay, fine, no touching," Taehyung conceded, as if he were granting a great favor. "But you have to admit, they're really detailed. It must have taken so long. I get bored so easily, I could never sit still for that long. Oh! Did you know there's a cafe near the temple that's supposed to have amazing matcha latte? We should go after. Unless you're a coffee person. Are you a coffee person? I think you look like a black coffee person. No sugar. Very bitter. It suits you."

Jungkook stared fixedly at the descending numbers, praying for the doors to open. Taehyung, however, was just warming up.

"My friend Jimin—he has a tiny tattoo on his ankle. It's a star. It's cute. But yours is like... wow. It's like a whole painting. Do you have more? Is it like a collection? I collect keychains, see?" He jiggled his backpack straps to make the keychains chatter. "But tattoos are a way more permanent collection. Unless you get them removed, but that's supposed to hurt even more, so what's the point, right?"

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the lobby. The doors hadn't even fully opened before Jungkook was striding out, a man on a mission to escape the auditory assault. Taehyung, happily oblivious, followed him out into the bright Kyoto morning, his monologue seamlessly transitioning from tattoos to the impressive architecture of the hotel lobby.

After the cool, artificial air of the lobby, they were met with a Kyoto spring morning so perfect it felt like a postcard come to life. The sun was warm on their skin, a gentle, golden light that held the promise of the day ahead. The sky was a vast, clear canvas of cerulean blue, without a single cloud to mar its brilliance.

The air itself was soft and carried the delicate, sweet fragrance of cherry blossoms in full bloom from the trees lining the canal nearby. It was a scent of pure, fleeting beauty. The sunlight filtered through the pale pink petals of the sakura trees, creating a dappled pattern on the clean sidewalks. People moved along the streets at a leisurely pace, some dressed in light kimonos, adding splashes of color to the scene. The distant sound of a temple bell echoed softly, mingling with the cheerful chirping of sparrows and the gentle hum of the city waking up. It was a morning designed for peace, for strolls, and for new beginnings a stark, almost cruel contrast to the storm cloud of a man walking stiffly down the street, followed by a boy who seemed to embody the very sunshine he was trying to ignore.

They turned onto the pathway that ran alongside the narrow canal, the same one Jungkook had walked in the dark solitude of the night. But now, in the bright morning light, it was an entirely different world. The water, which had been a sheet of black glass, now sparkled under the sun, reflecting the brilliant blue sky and the clouds of pink blossoms from the trees lining its banks. A gentle breeze whispered through the branches, sending a slow, shimmering shower of cherry blossom petals drifting down like scented snow.

Taehyung, who had been a step behind Jungkook, let out a gasp of pure delight. "Wow!"

He was dressed in an outfit that seemed made for this moment: baggy, cream-colored trousers that billowed slightly in the breeze and a soft, oversized knit sweater in a warm, earthy terracotta orange. The cheerful, cozy look was completed by his ever-present fuzzy bear backpack.

His excitement was immediate and irresistible. Forgetting his companion's grumpiness, he dashed ahead of Jungkook, his sneakers barely touching the ground. He ran a few steps under the canopy of blooming branches, his head tilted back, a wide, uninhibited smile lighting up his face as he watched the petals flutter down. The sunlight caught the strands of his dark brown hair, making them glow, and his glasses slightly fogged from the sudden movement. He spun around once, his arms slightly outstretched, completely lost in the simple, breathtaking beauty of it all. For a moment, he wasn't a sick boy on a final trip or an annoying chatterbox; he was just a young man, radiant and golden, utterly captivated by a perfect spring morning.

He looked back at Jungkook, his expression one of unadulterated wonder. "It's even more beautiful than in the pictures! Can you believe it?" he called out, his voice full of laughter, before turning back to continue his happy journey under the floral archway, a spot of bright, moving joy against the serene landscape.

Jungkook looked at the man in front of him, a silhouette of pure joy against a backdrop of pink. A cynical thought, worn smooth by bitterness, surfaced in his mind. What's so mesmerizing about cherry blossoms? he wondered. They are just trees with pink petals. They bloom for a week, and then they fall. It's the most basic metaphor for life's fragility, and people treat it like a revelation. What's there to be fascinated by?

His own life, the empire he had built, had crumbled with less grace than these falling petals. There were no crowds to admire its ruin, only vultures to pick at the carcass. Who had time for the transient beauty of a flower when the very foundations of his existence had turned to ash? There were bigger things to agonize over betrayals to dissect, a future to dread, a vast, empty horizon where his ambitions used to be. The blossoms were a celebration of a moment, but he was trapped in the wreckage of his past, a ghost haunting the ruins of his own making.

Then, his gaze settled on Taehyung, truly saw him not as an annoyance, but as a phenomenon. And he realized, with a jarring clarity, just how different they were. Jungkook tried to cast his mind back to when he was twenty-one. He didn't remember this… this capacity. He didn't recall finding ecstasy in sunlight through petals or a gentle breeze. At twenty-one, his happiness had been a loud, aggressive thing. It was the burn of cheap whiskey, the thrum of a bass guitar in a crowded club, the fleeting warmth of a stranger's body next to his in the dark. It was about conquest of music, of business, of people. His old guitar, now probably gathering dust in a storage unit, was a symbol of a dream sacrificed for a different kind of power. He had been wild, hungry, always chasing a bigger, brighter high.

Taehyung was the antithesis of all that. He wasn't chasing happiness; he was immersed in it. He seemed to draw it from the very air, from the simplest of sights. He found a universe of wonder in a single falling petal. Where Jungkook's youth had been a fire, Taehyung's was a steady, warm glow.

A profound, almost unsettling realization dawned on Jungkook. It wouldn't be wrong to say that Taehyung was the human form of happiness. If the abstract concept of joy were to take a physical appearance, it would be him this boy with a backpack full of keychains, his face turned to the sky, utterly captivated by a tree. For the first time, the relentless cheerfulness didn't feel like an attack; it felt like a glimpse of a foreign country one Jungkook had no visa for, but whose landscape was suddenly, painfully beautiful.

"Can you take a picture of me, please?" Taehyung said, turning around and skidding to a halt. He was already pulling his baby pink Polaroid camera from his backpack.

Jungkook looked at him with the same hollow eyes, his face a mask of weary indifference.

"Please, please?" Taehyung pleaded, not waiting for an answer. He simply pressed the camera into Jungkook's hands. Then, he hurried back to his spot under the cherry blossom tree. He struck a pose, one hand making a victory sign next to his eye, the other holding onto his backpack strap. He smiled a wide, genuine, ear-to-ear grin that was so bright it was almost blinding.

For a split second, it almost made Jungkook's heart thrum with a strange, foreign beat. Why is he even so happy? The thought was less an accusation and more a bewildered question.

Mechanically, Jungkook lifted the camera, framed the shot, and clicked. The camera whirred and spat out the blank photograph. One thing he had to admit, even through his annoyance: this kid was really beautiful. Probably more beautiful than any woman Jungkook had ever been with. There was an ethereal quality to him, especially here in the dappled sunlight, with petals catching in his hair. It was a disconcerting thought, and Jungkook shook his head slightly, as if to physically dislodge it. This person is a hell of annoying, he reminded himself. What absurd thoughts are you having?

"We are almost at the bus station!" Taehyung announced, skipping back to retrieve his camera and the developing picture. "From there, we will take a bus towards the Toji Temple. It's only a few minutes away." He began walking again, Jungkook falling into step beside him, now holding the slowly developing Polaroid.

As they waited on the bench at the bus stop, Taehyung’s chatter was a constant stream. "I love taking the bus in new cities! You see so much more of everyday life. Oh, look, that bakery has melon pan! We should get some later. Do you think the bus will be red or green? I hope it's green. Green is a lucky color, you know. My friend Jimin said—"

Jungkook looked profoundly annoyed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. A bus. He was waiting for a bus. His mind flashed to his garage back home the sleek, silent BMW M8, the roaring Ferrari machines of power and isolation. This was going to be a metal box full of strangers, likely too warm, probably smelling of stale air and other people. The mere thought was an assault on his senses. What was this ride even going to be like? It was a level of mundane discomfort he hadn't experienced in over a decade, and he was suffering through it all because of a boy with a polaroid camera and an inability to take no for an answer.

Finally, they got on the bus. Jungkook made a beeline for a pair of empty seats near the back, sliding into the one by the window. Taehyung, of course, came and sat right beside him, placing his fuzzy backpack on his lap.

"Why are you sitting here? The bus is empty," Jungkook grumbled, gesturing to the many vacant rows around them.

"Well, because we're traveling together? Sharing is caring," Taehyung said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jungkook huffed, turning his body pointedly towards the window to watch the city scroll by. Taehyung pulled his earphones out of his backpack, untangling the cord with practiced ease.

"You wanna hear?" he asked, offering one of the earbuds to Jungkook. "It's a very nice song."

"No, thank you," Jungkook said sharply, not looking at him.

"C'mon, I love it so much. You might like it too," Taehyung tried again, his voice hopeful.

"I am not in the mood, kid," Jungkook snapped.

"Stop calling me that! My name is Taehyung, and I am not a kid," Taehyung huffed, a genuine flicker of annoyance crossing his face.

"What age are you, anyway?" Taehyung pressed. "You keep calling me 'kid' like you're 45."

"Because for me, you are. I'm 30, soon to be 31," Jungkook replied, as if that settled the matter.

"Well, 30 isn't such an old age. We have just 9 years apart," Taehyung said, counting on his fingers as if doing complex math.

"Nine years is a lot," Jungkook said, his tone final and utterly annoyed. He turned away from the window to face Taehyung, a new, blunt question forming. "Tell me something. Were you born like this?"

"Like what?" Taehyung asked, genuinely confused.

"Like… is there some medical issue with you?" Jungkook asked, his voice low but direct. "Why do you speak so much? You just never shut up."

Medical issue.

The words hit Taehyung with a strange, cold precision. Yes, he thought, the world narrowing for a heartbeat. Yes, there is. A very big one. A heart that's literally failing, that might be the reason I never make it to 30, let alone 31. That's the real reason I'm talking so much, trying to pack a lifetime of conversation into whatever days I have left.

The thought was a sudden, heavy wave, pulling him under for a moment. His smile faltered, his eyes losing their focus as he stared at the seatback in front of him.

And then, just as quickly, he resurfaced. He blinked, the brightness returning to his eyes as he forcefully pushed the darkness away. "It's an amazing song, you'll see," he declared, his voice a little too bright. Before Jungkook could react or process the brief, uncharacteristic silence, Taehyung leaned over and gently pushed the spare earbud into Jungkook's ear.

The first few notes of a sweet, melodic indie song filled the space, a stark contrast to the tension that had just crackled between them.

They got off the bus and then walked towards the temple. 

The gentle breeze carried the subtle, sweet scent of cherry blossoms a perfume particular to late March in Kyoto. Taehyung walked with his hands on the straps of his backpack his keychains jingling swaying slightly with each step. He had his polaroid camera in his hand, occasionally lifting it to snap a detail: a scattering of pink petals on the pavement, a glint of sun on a distant tile roof. Beside him, Jungkook moved with mechanical rhythm his eyes constantly scanning the environment a mix of focused contemplation and childlike curiosity. 

They were walking along a street that was the transition zone between the city's modern pulse and its ancient soul. To their immediate left stood a line of contemporary, functional buildings a brightly lit convenience store, its sliding glass doors offering a momentary glimpse of snacks and drinks; and a sparse, stylish apartment complex with smooth, grey concrete walls. The road itself was wide enough for local traffic, but the dominant sound was the soft rush of the wind and the gentle click of Taehyung’s camera shutter.

As they continued, the urban landscape began to yield. The pavement gave way to older, textured stones on the sidewalk, and the air grew quieter, softer. They entered a residential section where the main attraction the magnificent Five-Storied Pagoda of Toji Temple began to truly dominate the skyline. It wasn't just visible; it seemed to rise out of the rooftops, a brilliant monument in glowing vermillion and dark timber. Its layered roofs, with their subtly upturned corners, were an architectural melody against the pale blue sky.

The true highlight, however, was the colour that framed it. The slender, deciduous trees lining the street were beginning to burst, and a large weeping cherry tree (shidare-zakura) across the road stood in a cloud of delicate, pale pink.

Taehyung slowed, tilting his head back to gaze up. He nudged Jungkook with his elbow, drawing his attention to a moment he hadn't yet captured. "Look at the pagoda, mister," he murmured, his voice low. "It looks like the top is floating in cotton candy. That must be the famous Fuji Zakura they talk about."

They moved closer to the temple's imposing perimeter wall. The houses here were tighter, some of them authentic machiya (traditional wooden townhouses) with dark, lattice-work windows and sloping tile roofs. A small stream of clear water trickled into a covered drain by the curb, and the air carried the subtle, earthy scent of damp moss mingled with the perfume of the blossoms.

Taehyung stopped by a weathered wooden gate. He framed a shot where the red eaves of the pagoda stood in sharp contrast above a moss-covered grey wall. He captured the image, the click of the shutter a crisp punctuation mark in the quiet street.

Just then, the distant, muted clang of a bell sounded a deep, resonant dong that seemed to vibrate in the ground beneath their feet, signaling the sanctity of the World Heritage site just beyond the wall. They exchanged a look the temple was summoning them.

They passed through the gate, leaving the quiet street behind and stepping into the vast, hallowed grounds of the temple. The world seemed to shift, the modern hum of the city replaced by an profound, ancient silence.

Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat. His cheerful chatter died away, replaced by a reverent awe. Before them, the Five-Storied Pagoda rose in its full, majestic glory, a towering symphony of vermillion lacquer and dark wood against the spring sky. It was even more impressive up close, its scale and serene power commanding a hushed respect. The famous Fuji Zakura cherry trees within the compound were in full, breathtaking bloom, their pale pink blossoms creating a soft, ethereal canopy that framed the historic structure. Taehyung’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, his head constantly moving, trying to take in every detail the intricate carvings, the way the light filtered through the blossoms, the sheer history that saturated the very air. He lifted his Polaroid camera again, but this time his movements were slower, more deliberate, as if he understood he was capturing something sacred.

Jungkook followed a few steps behind, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The mechanical rhythm of his walk had slowed to a contemplative pace. As he looked up at the pagoda, a different kind of weight settled on him not the sharp, personal agony of his recent failures, but the humbling weight of centuries. This has stood here for over a thousand years, he thought. It has survived wars, fires, the rise and fall of empires. His own problems, which had felt like the end of the world, suddenly seemed infinitesimally small. The silent, enduring presence of the structure was a stark contrast to the noisy, fleeting nature of corporate scandals and broken relationships.

His gaze drifted from the pagoda to Taehyung, who was now standing perfectly still, simply gazing upward with an expression of pure, uncomplicated wonder. In this sacred space, Taehyung’s happiness didn’t seem naive or irritating; it seemed appropriate. It was the only sane response to such timeless beauty. Jungkook felt a strange, quiet pang not of annoyance, but of something like loss. He couldn’t remember the last time he had looked at anything with that kind of unguarded appreciation. His life had been about acquisition and ambition, not awe.

Taehyung turned, catching Jungkook’s eye. He didn’t speak, but a slow, genuine smile spread across his face, as if to say, See? Isn’t it amazing? And for the first time, Jungkook didn’t look away. He simply held the gaze for a moment, the deep, resonant clang of the temple bell echoing around them, a sound that felt less like a summons and more like a beginning.

The temple grounds, while serene, were dotted with other tourists speaking in hushed, appreciative tones. Taehyung, however, seemed to bring his own sunshine with him. He struck up a conversation with an elderly European couple trying to work their camera, effortlessly helping them and then enthusiastically recommending the best spot to view the pagoda. He chattered away with a group of Korean students about the best street food in the area.

Jungkook stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching the entire spectacle. It's ridiculous, he thought, a fresh wave of bitterness washing over him. How can someone be so… extroverted? So effortlessly open with complete strangers? Each laugh that spilled from Taehyung’s lips felt like a personal affront. It was a stark, painful reminder of everything he had lost. This kid was living in a world of simple, instant connections, while Jungkook’s own world the life he built in the US with Lily, the company that was his father’s legacy lay in ashes. The memory of Lily’s betrayal was a sharp, physical pain in his chest. He had trusted her, built a future with her, and she had discarded him the moment things got difficult. And his company… the empire he’d sacrificed everything for, collapsed because of someone else’s greed.

He watched Taehyung’s easy smile and felt a surge of resentment so potent it stole his breath. It’s so unfair, he thought, his gaze shifting from the chattering boy to the ancient, peaceful pagoda. What kind of god allows a naive, chirping kid to exist in such blissful ignorance, while my entire life is destroyed? Why does he get to be happy, and I get to be… this? Every cheerful sound Taehyung made only amplified the screaming silence of Jungkook’s own ruin. The whole situation, this forced companionship, this vibrant display of a life he could no longer comprehend, was utterly, profoundly irritating.

The playful banters continued, with Taehyung pointing out every little detail and Jungkook responding with monosyllables or deep sighs.

Then, Taehyung spotted a friendly-looking Japanese woman who was taking a picture of her friend. He bounded over with his Polaroid. "Excuse me! Could you please take a picture of us?" he asked, gesturing brightly between himself and a horrified Jungkook.

"No," Jungkook said firmly, taking a step back.

"Oh, c'mon, for the memories!" Taehyung pleaded. Before Jungkook could retreat further, Taehyung darted forward, hooked his arm through Jungkook's, and pulled him back into the frame with surprising strength.

"Say cheese!" the woman said cheerfully.

The camera flashed. In the resulting Polaroid picture that slowly developed, the contrast was comical: Taehyung was beaming, his eyes crinkled into happy crescents, his body leaning into Jungkook's side. Jungkook, meanwhile, stood rigidly, his body language screaming protest, his face a perfect mask of utter, profound annoyance, his arms still stubbornly crossed.

The woman handed the camera back to Taehyung, giggling as she glanced at the photo. "You're a beautiful couple!" she said kindly before walking off with her friend.

Taehyung's face instantly flushed a deep, brilliant red. He sputtered, "Oh! N-no, we're not— we just—" but the woman was already gone. He looked down at the photo, his ears burning.

Jungkook was visibly shook. He stared after the woman, then back at Taehyung's flustered expression. A wave of sheer, unadulterated panic washed over him. He pointed a finger at Taehyung.

"That's it," he declared, his voice low and serious. "From now on, you walk at least five feet away from me. The locals are getting the wrong ideas."

Taehyung, still blushing, could only hug the embarrassing-but-precious photo to his chest as Jungkook stormed off toward the pagoda, putting a very deliberate amount of space between them.

As the afternoon light began to soften, the growl of Taehyung's stomach became too loud to ignore. "I'm starving! Let's eat here," he declared, pointing to a small, traditional cafe with a wooden facade nestled in a lane near the temple.

They found a table by the window. The meal was a simple, delicious taste of Kyoto. Steaming bowls of katsu-don arrived crispy, panko-breaded pork cutlets and softly scrambled eggs simmered in a sweet-savory sauce, all served over a bed of fluffy rice. On the side were small plates of tangy, pickled vegetables. Taehyung also insisted on ordering two glasses of matcha latte, the vibrant green foam dusted with a delicate pattern.

Taehyung was in his element, eating with enthusiastic gusto. "This is so good! Isn't it amazing? The pork is so crispy! Try the pickles, they're perfect." He chattered between bites, his warmth filling the quiet space.

Jungkook, in contrast, ate quietly, his responses minimal. The food was good, but he tasted it through a filter of numbness.

"If you were a type of donburi, what would you be?" Taehyung asked, tilting his head.

Jungkook gave him a deadpan look. "That's the stupidest question I've ever heard."

"I'd be this one!" Taehyung continued, undeterred. "Katsu-don! Because it's warm, comforting, and has a crispy outside but is all soft and gooey inside." He peered at Jungkook. "You'd be... an unseasoned white rice bowl. Very plain. Very serious."

Jungkook simply raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his matcha latte, refusing to acknowledge the accuracy of the assessment.

It was sunset when they decided to head back. Stepping out of the cafe, they were met with a breathtaking scene. The sky was painted in sweeping strokes of orange, pink, and deep violet, casting a warm, golden glow over the temple's pagoda and the cherry blossom trees. The air was cool and still.

As they walked, Taehyung, buzzing with the energy of the day, began walking backwards, facing Jungkook so he could talk directly to him.

"So, on a scale of one to ten, how much did you hate today?" he asked, a playful grin on his face.

Jungkook kept his eyes forward, navigating the pavement for both of them. "Eleven," he replied flatly.

"Liar! I saw you looking at the pagoda. You were contemplating life, I saw it!"

"I was contemplating why I didn't just take a later flight," Jungkook retorted, though there was no real bite in his tone.

"What's your favorite color? And don't say black, that's too predictable."

"None of your business."

"Mine's yellow. Like sunshine! And your matcha latte!" Taehyung continued, hopping over a crack in the pavement. "If you could be any animal, what would you be? A grumpy bear? A lone wolf?"

"I'd be an animal that hibernates for a year," Jungkook said, finally making Taehyung laugh a bright, happy sound that echoed in the quiet, sunset street. Jungkook fought the faintest tug at the corner of his own mouth, focusing very hard on looking annoyed as he followed the human golden retriever who was, quite literally, walking backwards into his future.

The bus ride back to the hotel felt infinitely longer than the one there. By the time they arrived, a deep, bone-weary exhaustion had settled into Jungkook. It was a different kind of fatigue than pulling an all-nighter for a merger. That had been fueled by adrenaline and ambition. This was a hollowed-out feeling, as if the day had siphoned away the last of his energy. I used to handle board meetings and multi-million dollar deals, he thought, running a hand over his face. I was the fucking CEO of Jeon Corp. And now I'm walking aimlessly in the streets of a foreign land with an annoying chatterbox. The absurdity of it was almost laughable.

In stark contrast, Taehyung was practically vibrating with happiness. The day had been everything he’d hoped for and more. The majestic pagoda against the spring sky, the delicious food, the silly photo, the stunning sunset—it was a perfect mosaic of experiences he would treasure. He felt alive, his heart full in a way that had nothing to do with its medical condition and everything to do with having truly lived a beautiful day.

Jungkook entered their room and dropped onto the bed face-first, not even bothering to take off his shoes.

Taehyung cheerily followed, placing his backpack carefully on a chair. "So, do you wanna play something? I have cards! Or we could just talk?" he began, his energy seemingly inexhaustible.

"Taehyung," Jungkook's voice was muffled by the mattress. "Please. Just shut up now."

Just then, Jungkook's phone started ringing. He groaned, fishing it out of his pocket. Namjoon Hyung flashed on the screen. Before Jungkook could even say hello, Taehyung, with lightning-fast reflexes, plucked the phone from his hand.

"Hello, Namjoon-ssi!" Taehyung chirped into the phone, ignoring Jungkook's look of utter betrayal. "Yes, it's me again! We had the best day! We went to the Toji Temple, it was so amazing. The pagoda was huge! And we took pictures together!"

On the other end, Namjoon, initially surprised, found himself smiling. "You did? That's... great to hear, Taehyung-ssi. Could you send me one of those pictures?"

"Of course—" Taehyung started, but Jungkook had finally had enough. He launched himself off the bed, snatched the phone back, and stormed out onto the terrace, sliding the door shut with a definitive snap.

"What the hell, hyung? Why did you encourage him?" Jungkook hissed into the phone.

"I was just being polite. How are you? How was it, really?" Namjoon asked, his tone shifting to concern.

"How's the company? The media?" Jungkook deflected, his voice tight.

"You know how it is. A mess. The lawyers are handling it. You need to stay there for a while, Jungkook-ah. Just... breathe." Namjoon paused. "Taehyung seems like good company, though. Maybe you should try being friends with him."

"Friends?" Jungkook scoffed, a harsh, bitter sound. "He's a kid. A kid who's totally different from me. I doubt he's ever even had a sip of alcohol, let alone... anything else. We have nothing in common."

After a few more terse words, Jungkook ended the call. Defeated, he walked back inside, but instead of going to the room, he went down to the reception.

"How many more days until another room is free?" he asked the clerk, his voice strained.

"We are so sorry, sir. It will likely be a few more days. Please bear with us," the clerk said with an apologetic bow.

Shoulders slumping, Jungkook trudged back to the room. He opened the door to find Taehyung sitting cross-legged on his bed, wearing a pair of soft, striped pajama pants and a loose, comfortable white t-shirt. He was writing intently in a small, brown leather journal. He looked up as Jungkook entered, offering a small, quiet smile before closing the book gently.

Dear Diary,

Today was a good day. A really, really good day. I saw the Toji Pagoda and it was even more beautiful than I imagined. It felt so peaceful there. I even got a picture with Jungkook, even though he looked like he was being held hostage! He's so grumpy, but I think there's a nice person underneath all that. He just needs someone to be patient with him. I had katsu-don for the first time and it was delicious. The sunset was like a painting. I'm so grateful I got to experience all of this. I hope tomorrow is just as good.

- Taehyung

"You know, we're basically friends now," Taehyung said, closing his journal and hugging his knees to his chest. He looked over at Jungkook, who was lying on his mattress, scrolling blankly through his phone. "But I know nothing about you. Tell me about you."

"I don't want to," Jungkook said simply, not looking up from the bright screen.

A slightly disappointed pout formed on Taehyung's lips, but it was quickly interrupted by the soft chime of his phone. He picked it up, and his face immediately softened. "Hi, Mom!"

Jungkook continued to scroll, only half-listening to the one-sided conversation.

"Yes, I'm fine... The hotel is nice... Yes, I ate well today... Katsu-don! It was delicious." There was a pause, and Taehyung's voice dropped a little, becoming softer, more reassuring. "Yes, Mom. I have them. Of course I have them. Don't worry, I won't forget... I promise. I love you too. Goodnight."

He ended the call and let out a small sigh. Then, he got up and went to his backpack, unzipping a small, discreet pouch. He pulled out a weekly pill organizer, the kind with compartments for each day. Jungkook glanced up from his phone, his attention caught by the faint rattle. He watched as Taehyung popped open Wednesday's section and poured a surprisingly large number of pills a mix of capsules and tablets into his palm. Without a second thought, Taehyung tossed them into his mouth and swallowed them dry.

Alot of pills, Jungkook thought, his scrolling slowing to a halt. For a moment, genuine curiosity flickered within him. Was he sick? Was this for some chronic condition? The kid seemed so vibrant, so full of life. The contrast was jarring. But just as quickly, he shut the thought down. Not my business. He's just a temporary nuisance. He resumed his mindless scrolling, burying the question under a wave of forced indifference.

Oblivious to Jungkook's internal moment of curiosity, Taehyung happily pulled out the Polaroids from their day. He carefully arranged the one of the pagoda and the slightly awkward one of the two of them on a fresh page of his journal. He began decorating the borders with an array of cute stickers little stars, smiling clouds, and a tiny cartoon cherry blossom humming a soft tune as he immortalized the best day he'd had in a long, long time.

Taehyung then took out a well-loved copy of The Little Prince from his backpack and settled back against the headboard to read.

"Do you want me to tell you a story from one of my books?" Taehyung asked, peering over the top of the pages at Jungkook.

"Absolutely not," Jungkook replied without looking up.

A small, amused smirk touched Jungkook's lips as he finally glanced over. "You're a nerd, too? Of course you are. With the glasses and the journal and everything." He let out a short, not unkind laugh, actually engaging for the first time that night. "You're so weird. I bet you were that kid in class, weren't you? The one always reading in the corner, with the big ideas and the... the keychains." He was just joking around, a rare moment of light teasing, not meant to be cruel.

But the effect was immediate. Taehyung's cheerful expression dissolved. The light in his eyes dimmed, and he looked down at his book, his fingers tightening slightly on the cover. He didn't say anything.

The silence stretched, and Jungkook realized his mistake too late. The joke had landed on a truth. He had, in fact, been that kid.

"Hey kid ," Jungkook said, his voice softer. "I... I didn't mean it like that."

Taehyung looked up, forcing a small, brittle smile. "It's okay," he said, his voice quiet. "I'm... I'm actually really tired. I'm going to sleep now."

Before Jungkook could say anything else, Taehyung closed his book, placed it carefully on the nightstand, and turned off his bedside lamp. He slid down in the bed, pulling the comforter all the way over his head, creating a small, silent mound.

Jungkook was left in the dim room, feeling an unfamiliar pang of guilt. The kid was a chatterbox, sure, but he was a good boy. He'd been nothing but kind, trying to cheer Jungkook up in his own relentless way. And Jungkook had gone and made him go quiet.

Whatever, he thought, lying down on his own mattress and turning his back to the bed. I don't care.

But the silence in the room felt heavier than before, and it took him a long time to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

“The temple bell stops but the sound keeps coming out of the flowers.”

(Often read as a metaphor for the lingering echo of love.)

Taehyung decided to visit the Ninenzaka pedestrian street in higashiyama district Kyoto alone today. He wanted Jungkook to come, but the thought of asking him felt heavy. Last night had stung more than he wanted to admit. So what if he was the weird kid who loved books and keychains? Everyone is their own person. Everyone is a unique constellation of stardust and experiences, meant to shine in their own way. What he never understood, what settled in his heart like a cold stone, was why people seemed to find joy in pointing out the differences in others. Why did they use words like little knives, not to build but to carve away at someone’s light? Was it to make their own light seem brighter? Or was it simply because a heart that doesn’t know its own worth finds a temporary solace in diminishing the worth of others? The world was so full of beautiful, fragile things; why choose to be a storm?

He was dressed in an outfit that felt like a soft armor: comfortable, light-wash baggy jeans, a thick, cream-colored knitted cardigan over a simple white t-shirt, and his trusty fuzzy bear backpack. The ensemble was cozy and gentle, just like he aimed to be.

Jungkook had woken up earlier or perhaps he hadn't slept much at all. A restless energy drove him to the hotel cafe for a strong coffee. He was walking back to their room when he saw Taehyung, a solitary figure, stepping out of the hotel's main doors. For a moment, a thought surfaced: Good. Peace and quiet. But it was immediately drowned out by a stronger, more persistent feeling. He shouldn't be like this. The memory of Taehyung retreating under the comforter flashed in his mind. He owed him a proper apology. I’ll just hang out with him today to make it even, he told himself, refusing to acknowledge the deeper truth: that Taehyung’s loud, vibrant presence was the only thing that had momentarily numbed the hollow ache in his chest.

So, he followed Taehyung out onto the street.

"Hey, kid,"he called out, catching up to him.

Taehyung turned, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Oh," he said, a tentative smile appearing. "Mister, you're here. I thought you had left."

"No, uh... I was just getting breakfast," Jungkook said, rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly. He was dressed in his uniform of dark solitude: black trousers and a simple, grey long-sleeved henley that clung to his frame.

"So, where are you going?"Jungkook asked, falling into step beside him.

"Ninenzaka," Taehyung replied.

"I see," Jungkook said.

Why is it so difficult to say a simple sorry? Jungkook groaned mentally. He took a breath.

"You know..." he started, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets as they walked. "About last night. What I said. I was... out of line. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm sorry." The words felt foreign on his tongue, but they were sincere. "So, if you don't mind... I'd like to accompany you to Ninenzaka."

Taehyung’s entire face lit up, the last traces of yesterday's hurt vanishing like mist in the sun. "Really? Okay! But only on one condition," he said, his cheerfulness returning in full force. He stopped and turned to face Jungkook squarely. "You have to agree that we're officially friends. Then I'll accept your apology." He extended his hand for a shake, a hopeful, challenging glint in his eye.

Jungkook sighed, a reluctant, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. "Fine. Friends." He took Taehyung's offered hand. The contrast was immediate and striking. Taehyung's hand was surprisingly warm and soft, his fingers slender and delicate in Jungkook's own big, rough, and cold grasp. The handshake was brief, but the sensation lingered on Jungkook's skin a small, warm anchor in his cold world.

Ninenzaka and Sannenzaka, located in the Higashiyama district, are two of the oldest and most popular pedestrian roads in Kyoto, a preserved heart of the city's history. To get there, they decided to take the subway from the Tozai Line to Higashiyama.

As they walked from the station towards the historic streets, Taehyung was a constant, buzzing presence beside a quietly contemplative Jungkook.

"Will you like to tell me something about yourself now?" Taehyung asked, running a few steps ahead and then resuming his habit of walking backwards, facing Jungkook.

"Why do you keep walking that way?" Jungkook gestured with a hint of exasperation. "It's dangerous. You might collide with something and get hurt."

"You won't let me," Taehyung said, and a wide, boxy smile appeared, his eyes crinkling into happy crescents behind his glasses.

His smile is so different. So unique. It's just... warm, Jungkook thought, before mentally shaking his head to dispel the notion.

"I won't let you what?" Jungkook asked, genuinely confused.

"You won't let me collide into something that's going to hurt me," Taehyung stated, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

Jungkook became flustered for a moment, rubbing the nape of his neck and looking away at the nearby cherry blossoms to avoid Taehyung's earnest gaze. The certainty in the boy's voice was unnerving.

"How are you so sure?" Jungkook deflected, his voice a bit gruff. "I am not responsible for you."

"But you're a good person," Taehyung replied simply, as if that settled everything.

"You don't know that," Jungkook countered, the words coming out sharper than he intended. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know enough," Taehyung said, finally turning around to walk properly, but still glancing back over his shoulder. "You apologized when you didn't have to. You came with me today even though you said you wouldn't. And you're worried I'll get hurt walking backwards. That sounds like a good person to me. Maybe you just forgot for a little while."

Jungkook had no response to that. The simple, unwavering logic was disarming. He just walked in silence, Taehyung's words echoing in the space between them, challenging the very negative foundation his world was currently built upon.

Jungkook’s voice trembled slightly, the question slipping out before he could catch it.

“Tell me… why are you so happy all the time? What’s the reason behind it? Do you never get worried? Is there no shadow in your life?”

Taehyung turned his gaze to him, really looking, as if reading the lines of a book he’d held many times. For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, soft but heavy. Then he smiled   not the bright, careless one Jungkook always saw, but a slow, warm one that carried years behind it.

“Of course I do,” he said quietly. “I have all the worries a heart can hold.” He let out a breath, his voice softer now, like the hush of rain against a window. “But I’ve learned that storms do not have the right to build houses in me. They may pass through, they may tear at the shutters, but they cannot claim my soul unless I let them. There are certain things I refuse to hand over  my laughter, my light. Those belong to me.”

He tilted his head, eyes glowing like the last ember of a fire. “I want to be happy  desperately, fiercely. And I know no one else can plant that garden for me but myself. So I keep sowing it, even when the soil feels cold. Everyone has worries. No one’s life is perfect.”

Then, softer still, like a promise“But I won’t let the dark things take my sun away.”

That struck something in Jungkook. The weight of Taehyung’s answer, so simple yet so resolute, settled into his chest like a stone thrown into still water. In that moment, Jungkook understood  Taehyung was someone who would never let the fractures of his past or the flaws of his present dictate the rhythm of his happiness. He was determined to bloom in spite of the cracks.

But Jungkook’s doubts gnawed still, raw and unrelenting.

“What if… what if the worry is really big? What if it feels like your whole world is crumbling down?” he asked again, the words tumbling out more desperate than he intended. It was almost laughable, absurd even, that he was turning to this boy  this boy he had once dismissed as childish, naive. Yet here he was, clinging to his words like a drowning man to driftwood, aching for reassurance.

Taehyung didn’t look at him this time. His gaze lifted to the sky, the sun spilling golden fire over his face until he raised a delicate hand to shield himself, fingers catching the light like petals trembling in the wind. His lashes fluttered as though he were speaking more to the heavens than to Jungkook.

“Sometimes,” Taehyung began, his voice as calm as a ripple across a pond, “we believe our suffering is the heaviest in the world. Humans are selfish that way. We curl into our own pain until it blinds us. We climb and scramble over each other, chasing success, chasing light  and in doing so, we forget to look down. We forget the ones whose worlds have shattered even more completely than ours.” He paused, the sunlight spilling over his smile, bittersweet and knowing. “That’s not living. That’s surviving in blindness.”

Jungkook listened, stunned. Each word pierced through him, dismantling the neat walls of cynicism he had built around himself. He couldn’t remember the last time someone spoke with such quiet conviction, let alone Taehyung.

“This life, Jungkook-ssi…”  Taehyung said his name, not mister, not formally, but with a softness that made Jungkook’s heart stutter. “This life is like a vast, endless ocean. Every soul is struggling to keep afloat, thrashing against the waves, terrified of drowning. And yes sometimes it’s alright to surrender, to let the waters pull you under when you are too tired to fight.” His eyes lowered, catching Jungkook’s at last, glimmering with a gentleness that felt like sunlight itself.

“But when you feel another hand reaching for you, pulling you toward the shore don’t refuse it. Don’t push them away. That’s the one thing you must never do.”

Taehyung was still speaking, his words carrying the calm weight of truth, when fate decided to test them. He had been walking backwards, eyes half-closed against the sun, his hand still raised like a fragile shield. He didn’t see the bike gliding silently up the path, its rider bent low, distracted by the gears he was fiddling with.

Jungkook didn’t see at first either his mind was spinning, tangled in Taehyung’s voice, those words echoing like a prayer through his chest. Don’t refuse. Don’t push them away. They struck something so deep it almost hurt to breathe.

Then his gaze snapped upward. And his heart dropped.

Taehyung was only inches from disaster, oblivious, the bike bearing down on him like a shadow about to break his light.

“Taehyung!”

The name tore from Jungkook’s throat before he could think. Instinct took the reins his body moved faster than his mind. In a heartbeat he was there, his hand clamping around Taehyung’s slender wrist, pulling with such desperate force that Taehyung’s balance gave way.

The boy stumbled forward with a startled gasp, crashing against Jungkook’s chest with a dull thud. The impact drove the breath out of Jungkook, but he didn’t let go. His arms had already caged around Taehyung, protective, unyielding, as if to shield him from everything bike, sun, world, fate.

For a suspended moment, everything stilled. The bike swerved past with a metallic clatter, its rider cursing, but Jungkook barely heard. His entire being was consumed by the warmth pressed against him, the scent of sunlight and earth clinging to Taehyung’s hair, the wild thrum of his own heart pounding far too fast.

Taehyung tilted his face upward, wide-eyed, breathless, so close Jungkook could feel the faint brush of it against his collarbone.

And Jungkook thought, wildly, This is what it feels like to pull someone out of the ocean.

For a moment, the world fell utterly still. No voices, no footsteps, not even the distant hum of the city seemed to reach them. Only the pounding of two hearts, loud enough to echo in their ears, filled the silence.

Taehyung was so close Jungkook could see the tremble of his lashes, the wideness of his brown eyes caught in shock. They reflected the soft pink haze of the street around them Kyoto in late March, where every breath of wind carried a swirl of falling cherry blossom petals. The world was awash in pale pink and white, as though spring itself had woven a veil just for them.

A gentle breeze threaded through the narrow street, tugging at Taehyung’s hair, lifting the strands. The petals fell with the same grace, landing in Taehyung’s hair, clinging for the briefest moment before drifting away again.

Jungkook couldn’t look anywhere else. His gaze fixed on Taehyung’s face—the way his lips parted slightly in surprise, the glow of sunlight playing along the soft curve of his cheek, the way the blossoms seemed to bow towards him, as though the season itself recognized him as its heart.

And in that stillness, Jungkook thought the entire street of Kyoto, the entire spring, had conspired to bring this moment into being.

Jungkook let go abruptly, the warmth still lingering on his skin like an afterimage. He turned his head away, jaw tight, as if the air itself was too charged to breathe.

Taehyung, startled, stumbled back a step before bowing deeply, hurriedly.

“Thank you, thank you,” he repeated, voice rushed and uneven, as though the closeness had unsettled him just as much as Jungkook.

The two of them walked on, the quiet between them filled with unspoken things. The streets of Kyoto, lined with shops and lanterns, gave way to the neat signage of the Tozai subway. The faint scent of blossoms lingered even underground, carried in with the crowd. Taehyung walked ahead now, his posture stiff, ears red at the tips. Jungkook followed, slower, his hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the back of him.

By the time they reached the platform, the rush of people pressed around them, the sound of approaching trains reverberating through the tiled walls. Jungkook still held Taehyung’s Polaroid camera, the strap looped around his hand as if it belonged there.

Taehyung turned suddenly. Not towards Jungkook, but towards a little boy clutching his mother’s hand, his eyes wide with curiosity. Taehyung smiled at him softly, warmly, like spring breaking through winter. The boy lit up instantly, hiding shyly behind his mother’s coat while Taehyung’s smile lingered, patient and kind.

And Jungkook’s chest tightened painfully. Why does it feel like this? Taehyung’s beauty wasn’t loud or dazzling; it was the kind that seeped into you quietly, until you realized it had changed you. He was beautiful in the curve of his lips and the way the light caught in his brown eyes, yes but more than that, he was beautiful in how he carried himself, how he gave pieces of warmth to strangers without ever expecting anything in return.

Almost without thinking, Jungkook raised the Polaroid camera. His finger pressed the shutter just as the train screeched to a halt behind Taehyung. The timing was perfect: Taehyung’s profile caught mid-smile, his hair brushing against his cheek from the breeze the train dragged in, the metal blur of the carriages rushing behind him. It looked less like a photograph and more like a frame from a film raw, unposed, alive.

The print slid out, the image slowly blooming into existence. Jungkook stared at it, breath caught somewhere in his throat. It was… beautiful. Perhaps too beautiful to hand back just yet.

He slipped the photograph into his pocket, fingers brushing over it once before letting it go. I’ll give it back later, he told himself, his excuse already waiting. When we’re back at the hotel.

But deep inside, Jungkook knew he just wanted to keep this version of Taehyung for himself a little longer.

They boarded the train, swept into the tide of people pressing through the doors. The train was crowded spring in Japan always was, cherry blossoms pulling in travelers from every corner of the world. Bodies shifted and swayed, voices buzzed low, but in that narrow pocket of space it felt as if there were only two of them.

Taehyung slipped to the side, his slender frame leaning lightly against the wall. Jungkook positioned himself instinctively in front of him, his broader shoulders and height forming a quiet barrier, shielding him from the jostling crowd. Their closeness was inevitable, but it still made Jungkook’s pulse skitter.

Taehyung reached into his pocket, pulling out his earphones. Without a word, he tucked one into his ear and then extended the other towards Jungkook, the cord swaying slightly between them.

Jungkook hesitated only for a moment. The memory of the last time how unexpectedly good Taehyung’s taste in music had been, how easily it had unsettled him flashed through his mind. Then he bent down, tilting his head low enough for Taehyung’s hand to fit the bud gently into his ear. The brief brush of Taehyung’s fingers against his skin sent a current running through him, sharper than he wanted to admit.

The music began to flow a soft melody that threaded into the noisy carriage and quieted something inside both of them. Outside the windows, Kyoto blurred past: rooftops, rivers, then sudden sprays of pink cherry blossoms rushing by like watercolor strokes.

They swayed with the movement of the train, shoulders brushing now and then, too close to ignore, too natural to call an accident. Jungkook kept his gaze fixed ahead, but his senses betrayed him. He was hyper-aware of the faint warmth of Taehyung’s body just within reach, of the rhythm of their shared breathing syncing to the music.

Then the train lurched abruptly to a halt. The force sent Taehyung forward before he could brace himself. His body collided against Jungkook’s chest with a muffled sound, soft but startling.

Jungkook’s hands shot out automatically, steadying him by the shoulders. For a heartbeat, Taehyung was flush against him again the second time that day, the same rush of heat flooding Jungkook’s chest, the same thunder in his ears. His gaze fell straight into Taehyung’s face, close enough to catch every detail: the flicker of surprise in his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly in shock, the faint flush coloring his cheeks.

Something twisted deep inside Jungkook, fierce and unrelenting. His heart was beating too fast, too loud.

And then he pushed him back, rougher than he meant to. His voice came out gruff, sharp, like armor snapping into place.

“C’mon. Stand properly.”

Taehyung blinked at him, startled, then nodded, adjusting himself against the wall again, his lashes lowered. The music still played in their ears, but now it carried an unspoken tension neither of them dared to break.

Outside, the train sped toward Higashiyama, carrying them deeper into spring, into something Jungkook wasn’t ready to name.

The streets of Higashiyama were alive with spring. Narrow stone-paved lanes curved gently upward, framed by low wooden houses with tiled roofs, their eaves heavy with paper lanterns that swayed softly in the breeze. Cherry blossoms spilled over walls and temple gates, their petals carried down the street with each playful gust, brushing against the ankles of passing tourists. Vendors called out from shopfronts, their displays crowded with matcha sweets, fans painted with cranes, and tiny charms tied in neat rows.

Taehyung walked ahead, weaving through the crowd with the lightness of someone who had no weight in his steps. His head turned constantly, his voice never ceasing as he pointed things out.

“Look, Jungkook-ssi! That shop’s selling sakura mochi oh, and do you see the fox masks? I bet they’d suit you.” He laughed at his own thought, then barely gave Jungkook a chance to answer before adding, “And that alley look at it! Doesn’t it feel like stepping into the past? Kyoto’s so different from Seoul. Everything feels slower, softer.”

Jungkook followed half a step behind, his frame tall and solid among the moving crowd. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, jaw set as he tried to ignore the endless stream of Taehyung’s chatter. Every word grated on him, like pebbles skittering across still water. The boy never shuts up, he thought bitterly. His voice, his questions, his strange way of finding wonder in every crack and corner it was exhausting. And yet… though he refused to admit it, Jungkook’s ears never tuned him out completely.

The further they climbed, the thinner the street became, until the chatter of vendors fell behind and the sudden burst of color ahead made even Jungkook slow.

The Yasaka Koshindō Temple stood small yet dazzling, its modest wooden frame almost hidden beneath a cascade of colors. Hundreds upon hundreds of kukurizaru round cloth talismans hung from every beam, railing, and tree branch. Bright reds and pinks, deep blues, sunflower yellows, soft greens: each one glowing against the wooden backdrop like jewels strung together by invisible threads. They swayed gently in the breeze, a thousand whispered prayers dancing in the air.

Taehyung stopped in his tracks. His breath caught audibly, lips parted in awe, his eyes widening as though he had stumbled into a dream. “Waaah…” His voice trailed, hushed now, reverent. He turned in a slow circle, head tilted back, watching the talismans sway. “It’s like… the whole temple is wearing rainbows.” He reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against a string of charms, careful, as though afraid to disturb the wishes sealed inside.

He turned back to Jungkook, eyes bright with something that almost hurt to look at. “Aren’t they beautiful? Each one has someone’s wish inside. So many people, so many dreams gathered in one place. Doesn’t that feel… hopeful?”

Jungkook let out a long, heavy sigh. His brows pulled together as he muttered, “You talk too much.”

But his voice lacked the bite he intended. Because while his words were meant to shut Taehyung down, his eyes betrayed him lingering on the way the colors painted Taehyung’s face in soft, shifting hues, on the way his hair caught the light breeze, strands dancing like they belonged among the charms.

He looked, and he thought unwillingly, almost angrily that maybe Taehyung didn’t just belong here. Maybe he was one of those wishes: bright, fragile, impossible not to notice.

Taehyung’s hand lingered on one of the dangling talismans, his eyes following the way it swayed gently in the spring breeze. “Do you know what these are, Jungkook-ssi?” he asked, his voice hushed but brimming with curiosity. He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, his tone carrying that soft enthusiasm that always seemed to overflow from him. “They’re called kukurizaru. People write their wishes on them and tie them here. But it isn’t just wishing you have to give something up in return. Something dear to you. That’s how it works.”

Jungkook only stared at him, blank and heavy, his dark eyes reflecting the sea of colors strung across the temple. Sacrifice something dear? The words echoed in his chest like an insult. What was there left for him to give? Everything precious had already slipped through his hands, had already crumbled to dust. Desire itself felt foreign. Wishing was for people who still had something to hope for.

He scoffed quietly, his tone flat. “I’m not going to wish.”

Taehyung’s head snapped toward him, lips curling into a small pout. “Then I’ll do it instead,” he said brightly, stubbornness lacing his voice. He marched over to the small wooden stand where charms were offered, exchanged a polite bow with the attendant, and came back with a bright red kukurizaru in his palm. He held it up like a prize.

Jungkook watched him, expression unreadable. Finally, he asked, “What are you going to wish for?”

Taehyung glanced at him from beneath his lashes, lips quirking into a playful grin. He leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “It’s a secret.” Then he winked, and Jungkook felt a strange flicker in his chest, something between annoyance and something he refused to name.

Turning back to the temple, Taehyung cupped the talisman between both hands, closing his eyes briefly. His expression softened, his smile fading into something quieter, almost solemn. If I am to die young anyways I wish… I wish Jungkook-ssi finds a reason to laugh without guilt. I wish he learns he isn’t as alone as he thinks. The words remained unspoken, sealed into the charm as he tied it carefully among the cluster of colors.

When he was done, he turned back and found Jungkook standing stiffly, still staring at the riot of talismans as if they were speaking a language he couldn’t understand. His posture was rigid, his eyes sharp but empty, like a man staring into ruins.

Taehyung tilted his head, studying him for a moment, then quietly pulled the Polaroid camera from his bag. Click.

The sound broke the stillness. Jungkook blinked and turned sharply, his brows drawing together. “Yah. What are you doing?” His voice was rough, irritation spilling through. He never liked cameras, never liked his image being captured like that.

Taehyung only smiled, hugging the camera close like a mischievous child caught red-handed. “Just… keeping proof that you were here.”

Before Jungkook could snap back, Taehyung turned to a man nearby a tourist fiddling with his own camera. “Excuse me! Could you take a picture of us?” he asked in his soft, accented Japanese, offering a polite bow.

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “No.” His voice was firm, his body already tensing to leave.

But Taehyung was faster. He walked right over and planted himself at Jungkook’s side, angled slightly toward him, his face turned toward the camera. He smiled brightly, his eyes curving like crescents. “Come on, just one picture,” he whispered quickly, too close for Jungkook to push away without causing a scene.

The man raised the camera. Jungkook, annoyed, turned his face instinctively not to the lens, but toward Taehyung. And in that instant, the shutter clicked.

The photo captured it all: Taehyung standing radiant, facing the camera with a smile as colorful as the charms swaying behind them, and Jungkook caught in profile, his gaze fixed on Taehyung as if he were the only thing worth looking at in the frame.

As they descended Ninenzaka, Taehyung walked a little ahead, his camera clicking every few steps. He turned often, sometimes crouching low to catch a lantern half-hidden by blossoms, sometimes lifting the Polaroid toward the sky to frame the clouds and petals together. His energy filled the narrow slope, a contrast to Jungkook’s quiet, heavy presence just behind him.

“Do you know,” Taehyung began suddenly, his voice soft but carrying in the still air, “there’s a Japanese concept called mono no aware.” He glanced at Jungkook with a small smile, one hand reaching out to catch a falling petal before it drifted away. “It means the delicate pathos of things… the awareness that nothing, especially nothing beautiful, can last.”

Jungkook frowned slightly, watching him. Taehyung’s tone wasn’t mournful if anything, it held a tender reverence, like he was speaking about something precious.

“Look,” Taehyung said, gesturing to the cherry blossoms above them, their petals loosening and floating down in slow showers. “Every bloom is breathtaking right now, but soon they’ll fall. In autumn, these trees will be bare. Winter will strip everything away. But then spring comes again. It’s the law of nature. Change is the only thing constant. If the good days don’t last,” he turned, meeting Jungkook’s gaze, “then the bad ones won’t either.”

For a moment, Jungkook stopped walking. His eyes followed the drifting petals, pale against the dark roofs, and something in Taehyung’s words settled inside him like a stone tossed gently into still water. Maybe he was right. Maybe everything beautiful had to end… but endings weren’t the whole story. There was always another season.

“How do you even know all this?” Jungkook asked finally, his voice quieter than he intended.

Taehyung grinned, brushing his hair back as the breeze teased it across his forehead. “I like to read. About everything philosophy, poetry, even little cultural things like this.” His tone was light, but there was an earnest sparkle in his eyes. “Beautiful ideas deserve to be remembered, don’t they?”

Jungkook didn’t reply. He only watched him for a moment longer watched the way Taehyung’s brown eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the way his words carried warmth even when speaking of impermanence. And though he told himself not to, he found himself holding onto that reassurance like one might hold onto a petal before the wind takes it away.

They then stopped at a stall selling famous kyoto sweets like matcha dango on a skewer. Taehyung bought two , he  struggled to open the small paper wrapping without dropping the sticky treat. Jungkook, seeing the struggle, silently reached out and took one of the skewers. He peels back the paper while holding his own, not looking at Taehyung, just wanting to remove the awkward delay. Taehyung thanked him with his eyes.

They walkedbside-by-side, eating the identical treat, their elbows occasionally bumping. Suddenly, Taehyung laughed and nudgedb Jungkook who only made a dramatic annoyed face. He had a speck of the green matcha paste on the corner of his mouth. Jungkook  held his own dango stick and gestured with his chin. When Taehyung missed cleaning it completely, Jungkook reaches out with his thumb and gently swiped the smudge away, his touch immediate and unthinking, focused only on neatness. The lingering warmth of his thumb on Taehyung's skin registered belatedly in his mind and he couldn't figure out why he was doing this all.

The last of the dango was sweet on their tongues as they walked side by side onto Sannenzaka Road. The slope was narrower here, the stone path curving gently between rows of traditional machiya houses with dark wooden lattices and glowing paper lanterns already being lit. Shops selling hand fans, silken purses, and delicate porcelain cups spilled warm golden light onto the street.

Above, the sky was surrendering to dusk. The sun, now dipping low, painted everything in a soft palette amber bleeding into rose, fading into the first hint of indigo. The tiled rooftops caught that warm glow for a fleeting moment before it slipped away, like a candle guttering before darkness.

A coolness had begun to settle in the air, brushing against their skin with every breeze that threaded through the street. Taehyung tugged his cardigan a little closer around himself, the tips of his ears pink from the chill. The warmth of daytime had evaporated, replaced with that gentle crispness that always came with spring evenings, when you could almost smell the earth preparing for night.

As they descended, their footsteps echoed faintly on the worn stones, mingling with the distant chatter of tourists and the occasional creak of a shop door closing. And though the road was busy, it felt to Jungkook that the world had slowed somehow, the fading light wrapping everything in a fragile, fleeting stillness.

Beside him, Taehyung looked around with wide, delighted eyes, his cheeks softly flushed from the cold and the glow of sunset. His earlier laughter still lingered faintly on his lips, and Jungkook, for the briefest second, felt the warmth of his own thumb against that soft skin replay in his mind like an echo that refused to fade.

As they descended further down Sannenzaka, Taehyung paused here and there, always finding people to smile at. He helped an elderly couple lift their shopping bag onto a stone ledge so they could rearrange its weight, crouched down to hand a little girl her fallen hairclip, and even gave directions half in broken Japanese, half in gestures to two lost tourists. His laughter slipped easily into the evening air, and every “thank you” he received was met with a bow and that unshakable sunshine of his smile.

Jungkook stood back each time, arms folded, watching silently. The glow of sunset spilled across Taehyung’s hair, turning it molten gold, and gilded the soft curve of his cheek. There was something about the way Taehyung lit up in these simple moments helping strangers as if kindness cost nothing that made Jungkook’s chest tighten. He caught himself staring too long, heat crawling up his neck, and quickly looked away, pretending to examine the street’s wooden signposts instead.

Before  they reached the Tozai subway entrance, the lanterns had fully bloomed against the darkening sky, and the streets hummed with the quiet anticipation of night.

“Look! A bicycle!” he said, pointing toward a simple parked bike leaning against a wall. “We’ll miss the train let’s take it.”

Jungkook frowned instantly. “What? No. That’s not ours. Someone’s going to report us. We’ll get in trouble.”

Taehyung tilted his head, mischievous. “You should take risks in life, Jungkook-ssi. Otherwise, where’s the fun?”

“That’s called stealing, not risk-taking.”

But Taehyung was already wheeling the bike toward him, grin wide and eyes sparkling. “Come on. Just this once. We’ll be quick.”

Jungkook groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably fun,” Taehyung corrected, hopping onto the front bar, his legs swung to one side as though he’d done it a hundred times. “Now sit. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Reluctantly, Jungkook mounted the seat, muttering curses under his breath. The moment his foot hit the pedal, though, a loud shout rang out behind them.

“Hey! That’s my bike!”

Taehyung gasped, then laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. “Go, Jungkook-ssi! Faster!”

And Jungkook, startled, did. His legs pumped furiously, the bicycle wobbling down the narrow street as the man chased after them. Taehyung clutched the handlebars for balance, his head thrown back in pure, unrestrained laughter, his voice urging Jungkook forward.

“If you stop, we’re done for!” he cried between giggles.

The wind rushed past them, cool and sharp against their cheeks, carrying with it the faint fragrance of cherry blossoms and street food. The sky dark with a moon shining s and Taehyung’s laughter bright, reckless, alive filled Jungkook’s ears until it drowned out everything else. His own heart pounded with the thrill, half with fear, half with exhilaration.

At last, the subway entrance loomed into view. Jungkook skidded to a halt, both of them tumbling slightly as they leapt off and left the bike leaning haphazardly against a wall. Taehyung cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted a breathless, “Sorry!” into the fading street before grabbing Jungkook’s wrist.

They sprinted down the stairs together, their footsteps echoing, their laughter loud and uncontrollable. Jungkook forgot himself in that rush forgot the weight he always carried running side by side with Taehyung, wrists bound by warmth, lungs burning with joy. For once, he wasn’t the stoic man who bore everything alone. He was just… alive.

This is the ninenzaka/sannenzaka 

Chapter Text

Dear Diary,

Kyoto has been kind to me. It’s been a week, and though the days move quickly, I have felt each one settle gently in my heart like petals falling onto still water. Jungkook-ssi  I think I am now fully convinced he is a very good person. He hides it well behind that stern face and the way he speaks so bluntly, but goodness clings to him, quiet and heavy, like the ink of his tattoos. And oh, they are beautiful, those tattoos like secret stories written across his skin, a kind of art he carries without saying a word.

My illness  yes, it is here with me still, shadowing my days, whispering of limits and reminding me of what I cannot change. But hopelessness? No, I won’t allow it. What time I have, I will not spend it caged. I will laugh loudly, run recklessly, write endlessly. Because despair does not deserve my days, and even if my body weakens, my spirit will not bow. Life is too fleeting to hold in clenched fists it must be held open-palmed, allowed to dance and fly away when it wishes.

If one day Jungkook-ssi smiles, really smiles, like the sun breaking through storm clouds, then I’ll know my mission here was not wasted.

Jungkook stepped out of the bathroom, towel rubbing across his damp hair, his chest bare and gleaming with drops of water. His grey trousers hung low on his hips, casual, careless. He paused mid-step when he saw Taehyung bent over that notebook again, pen scratching, completely lost in his little world.

He had noticed before Taehyung was always scribbling something in that diary, pasting stickers, sometimes even little photographs. But Jungkook never cared to ask. Tonight, curiosity tugged too hard.

“What do you even keep writing in that book every other day?” he asked, voice low, roughened by the steam of the shower.

Taehyung looked up, startled, then snapped the journal shut with a cheeky smile.

“It’s private.”

“Well, I want to know what’s so private. You don’t even seem like the kind of person who keeps secrets.” Jungkook leaned lazily against the wall, eyes narrowed.

Taehyung shook his head quickly, hugging the diary to his chest. “Na, na. Not for you.” He reached for his backpack to tuck it away, but Jungkook was faster. With one swift motion, he snatched it from Taehyung’s hands.

“Hey!” Taehyung yelped, voice cracking with outrage. “Jungkook-ssi, give that back, this isn’t funny!”

Jungkook smirked, waving the diary just out of reach, the towel now draped carelessly around his neck. Taehyung jumped for it, whining like a child, but Jungkook easily dodged, laughing under his breath as he stepped aside.

The room filled with the sound of scuffling feet, Taehyung’s breathless protests, Jungkook’s low chuckle. Then, in a sudden tangle, they both lost balance and tumbled onto the bed.

Jungkook landed flat on his back, the diary clutched in one outstretched hand. Taehyung straddled his hips, sitting upright on top of him, one hand braced on Jungkook’s bare chest to steady himself, the other reaching desperately for the diary.

Jungkook’s arm was stretched high and far away, but his other hand had instinctively clamped firmly around Taehyung’s slim waist, holding him in place with an iron grip.

They froze.

Taehyung’s oversized shirt had slipped off one shoulder, the thin fabric of his shorts brushing Jungkook’s skin. Jungkook could feel the heat of Taehyung’s palm against his chest, every rapid beat of his own heart thudding into that small hand. Their breaths mingled, shallow and quick, and in the small space between them, the air thickened with something unspoken.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. Their eyes met Taehyung’s wide, startled, lips parted as if to speak but no sound came. Jungkook’s gaze darkened, traveling from those lips to his flushed cheeks, back to his eyes.

The diary was forgotten.

The teasing forgotten.

All that remained was the press of Taehyung’s body against his, the warmth of his skin, and the sharp, undeniable pull of tension that made the world outside the room cease to exist.

The diary might as well have ceased to exist. It lay forgotten, slipping slightly from Jungkook’s hand, but neither of them cared to notice. The world had shrunk to the press of Taehyung’s body against his, the way his palm trembled faintly against Jungkook’s bare chest. Jungkook swore he could feel each beat of his heart ricocheting into that hand too loud, too fast, as if it were betraying him.

What the hell is this? Why is my chest tight? Why can’t I breathe properly when he’s this close? Jungkook’s thoughts were a storm, colliding with one another. Taehyung was nine years younger. Annoying. Loud. Everything Jungkook should’ve despised. And yet, staring into those wide brown eyes, glowing with nervous light, he couldn’t look away. Something inside him whispered, Don’t move. Just stay here.

Taehyung, meanwhile, was unraveling. His lips parted, words caught somewhere in his throat, but none dared emerge. He was painfully aware of Jungkook’s hand clamped firmly around his waist, the strength in that grip that pinned him in place, yet the strange safety it brought. His heart was racing so wildly it almost hurt. Why does he make me feel like this? Why do his eyes look like they’re seeing right through me?

The air between them thickened. Jungkook’s gaze flickered to Taehyung’s mouth for the briefest second before snapping back up to his eyes, but the damage was done. Taehyung’s breath hitched, and for one dangerous, impossible moment, the world tilted towards something inevitable.

Then the weight of it crashed down.

Jungkook cleared his throat sharply, loosening his grip on Taehyung’s waist as though burned. His arm dropped the diary carelessly onto the bedspread. Taehyung, realizing the position they were in, scrambled back, his face flushed crimson.

Neither of them spoke. Jungkook sat up, running a hand through his damp hair, trying to calm the pounding of his pulse. Get a grip. It was nothing. Just an accident. But the ghost of Taehyung’s touch lingered against his skin, and it felt like a lie.

Taehyung fidgeted with the hem of his oversized shirt, trying to hide his pink cheeks. Why… why did it feel like that? Why did it feel like falling? His chest was still tight, his throat dry. He couldn’t shake the memory of Jungkook’s eyes, dark and unreadable, yet pulling him in as if gravity itself had changed.

They parted  one standing too quickly, the other sitting too still  but the silence was loud, ringing with everything unspoken. Both hearts still beat like drums, betraying the truth neither was ready to name.

Jungkook cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away, trying to cover the thundering in his chest.

“Don’t you have to go somewhere today?” he muttered, gesturing vaguely, his voice rough.

“I–I do,” Taehyung stammered, cheeks still flushed from their closeness, his fingers fumbling with the edges of his oversized shirt. Of course he was flustered  he had never been this close to someone before. His life had been a solitary thing, both fragile and strong at once. It had always been himself, only himself  the one who laughed alone, dreamed alone, cried alone, and picked himself up again when he fell. No arms ever reached out to catch him, no shoulders waited for his tears. He had become his own comfort, his own company.

Jungkook studied him quietly, his throat tight. “Well, you usually go early in the morning. Today it’s already noon.”

Taehyung lifted his journal, tucking it carefully into his bag, then said simply, “I wanted to go to the beach today.”

Jungkook blinked at him. “Who the fuck goes to beaches in spring? And that too after noon?”

Taehyung turned, his brown eyes glinting with something bright and stubborn. “Well, why not? Why does there have to be a rule? Why does there have to be a right time, a season, a reason? You can do whatever you want. Is it necessary to always do what is common or recognized worldwide?”

Jungkook scoffed, leaning back on the bed with his arms crossed. “That’s just stupidness.”

Taehyung shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, but his words fell soft and sure, like a gentle tide.

“No, Jungkook-ssi. It’s not. If you only ever follow what others do, you’ll miss the chance to feel what you want to feel. The beach is still the beach whether it’s summer or spring. The waves don’t wait for permission. The sand doesn’t ask the clock if it’s too late. Beauty doesn’t follow schedules. Happiness doesn’t either. So why should we?”

His voice lingered in the room, quiet but powerful, and for a long moment Jungkook had no retort. He stared at Taehyung’s back as he adjusted the strap of his bag, those words circling in his mind like ripples on water.

The waves don’t wait for permission.

And strangely, Jungkook found himself wondering if Taehyung had just said something that applied to far more than Beaches.

And Jungkook realized, as he sat there staring at Taehyung’s back, that perhaps the boy wasn’t as foolish as he always claimed.

Why does there need to be a right time, a proper reason, or the world’s permission behind everything? Why must happiness be bound by clocks and calendars, or joy be rationed only to moments others deem appropriate?

Taehyung lived like water  flowing where he wished, bending with the rocks but never breaking, shimmering under any light offered to him. And Jungkook, in his rigid discipline and quiet suffering, had spent so long damming his own stream, forcing it into straight lines and narrow channels. He called it control, he called it strength, but maybe it was nothing more than fear disguised as order.

Being with Taehyung  this kid he had dismissed as annoying, careless, stupid was slowly showing him something uncomfortable: maybe he had been doing life wrong. Maybe the laughter Jungkook scorned was actually courage, and the reckless choices he mocked were a kind of wisdom. Maybe the very things that made Taehyung unbearable were also the things that made him radiant.

And that thought lingered like a secret Jungkook was too proud to admit.

What was this boy, nine years younger and so unpolished, doing right that I have spent years getting wrong?

“Do you want me to accompany you to the beach? Since it’ll probably be night time when you come back and it’s not okay for you to return alone,” Jungkook asked, his tone flat, casual, like he was simply stating a fact.

But in truth, his chest felt tight. He knew himself too well — if he stayed back in the room, the silence would creep in, and silence was dangerous. It left space for memories, for guilt, for the kinds of thoughts that dragged him into places he had no strength to crawl out of. No, he needed distraction. He needed Taehyung’s chatter, his absurd plans, his laughter. It was maddening, but it kept Jungkook’s shadows at bay.

Taehyung paused mid-step, turning his head just enough to look at him, the corners of his lips curling knowingly. He had seen through him instantly.

“Am I a damsel in distress, Jungkook-ssi?” Taehyung’s voice was playful, featherlight, but laced with a kind of gentle truth. “I can take care of myself very well.” He reached for a loose white shirt and a pair of shorts from his bag, holding them up against himself with mock seriousness. Then, after a deliberate beat, he added cheekily, “But if you want to tag along for the happiness of your own, then why not? Sure.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue and looked away, pretending to be unaffected, though the faintest twitch of his lips betrayed him. “Tch. Whatever. Just don’t make me regret it.”

Meanwhile, Taehyung hummed to himself as he held his outfit against the light, pretending to decide, but inside, he was smiling. He wants to come. He just doesn’t know how to say it without dressing it in thorns.

Taehyung rummaged through the cupboard tossing aside a plain t-shirt Jungkook thought he’d wear. Instead, he pulled out something that made Jungkook’s brow furrow immediately a pastel pink cardigan, oversized and fluffy, with tiny embroidered strawberries climbing along the pockets.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jungkook muttered, watching as Taehyung carefully slipped it on, letting the sleeves swallow his hands.

Taehyung turned once in front of the mirror, tilting his head with an almost childlike glee. “Cute, right?”

“That’s not… that’s not a beach outfit,” Jungkook said flatly.

“Of course it is. My beach outfit,” Taehyung replied with a grin that showed all his teeth. Beneath the cardigan, he wore a mint-green striped shirt tucked neatly into cream shorts that ended just above his knees, showing off his lean, pale legs. His sneakers were scuffed but charmingly personalized with doodles of stars and smiley faces, like something out of a sketchbook. And then came the finishing touch he plopped a bucket hat with floppy bunny ears onto his head and struck a mock runway pose.

Jungkook groaned, dragging a towel over his damp hair to hide his expression. But it didn’t work his ears were red. Why does he look so damn pleased with himself? And why… why does it look good on him?

Taehyung spun on his heel and pointed finger guns at Jungkook. “Well? Am I not the most fashionable man in Kyoto tonight?”

“You look ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously cute, you mean.”

Jungkook glared at him, but his lips twitched like they wanted to betray him. “You’re going to walk into a crowd dressed like that?”

“Mmhm,” Taehyung hummed, adjusting his cardigan and tugging at the too-long sleeves so they bunched around his wrists. He bent down to check his mismatched socks one patterned with tiny suns, the other with drifting clouds. He looked pleased with them, like he’d made a bold artistic choice rather than a mistake. “I’m going to be unforgettable.”

“Unbearable,” Jungkook corrected under his breath. But he was staring again. His eyes lingered a second too long on Taehyung’s bare legs, on the way the cardigan swayed when he moved. He quickly averted his gaze.

Taehyung caught it anyway, his grin curling softer now. “Don’t worry, Jungkook-ssi. Next time, I’ll find a bunny-eared hat for you too.”

“In your dreams.”

Taehyung just laughed, slipping his journal into his bag and bounding toward the door. His laughter lingered in the room, warm and shameless, while Jungkook despite himself found his lips curving in the smallest, most reluctant smile. He’s insane. Completely insane. And yet…

Jungkook finally emerged from the closet after changing, his expression neutral as if daring Taehyung to comment. He wore a plain black crewneck t-shirt that stretched comfortably across his broad shoulders, paired with dark wash jeans cuffed at the ankle. His sneakers were spotless white, the kind that gave him a crisp, effortless look without trying too hard. His hair, still a little damp from his shower, fell naturally into place, the ends brushing his forehead. Simple, minimal but he carried it with a quiet confidence that made him look annoyingly good.

Taehyung gave him a once-over and broke into a cheeky grin. “You’re going to the beach or to a mafia meeting?”

“Shut up,” Jungkook muttered, grabbing his phone and wallet before following him to the door. “At least I don’t look like I’m going to a kindergarten picnic.”

Taehyung gasped dramatically, clutching the floppy bunny ears on his hat. “How dare you insult the strawberry cardigan. Do you know how rare this drip is?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes but his lips twitched he was dangerously close to smiling.

They stepped into the hallway, the dim hotel lights washing over them, and made their way to the elevator. As Taehyung pressed the button and hummed some tune under his breath, Jungkook finally asked, “Wait… how exactly are we going to the beach? Kyoto doesn’t even have a coastline.”

Taehyung turned slightly, his bunny ears flopping, and smirked as if he had been waiting for the question. “Technically, Kyoto city doesn’t. But Kyoto Prefecture does.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed. “Prefecture?”

“Mmhm,” Taehyung nodded, stepping into the lift when the doors opened and holding them for Jungkook. “There’s an area called Kyoto-by-the-Sea. Gorgeous coastline, several beaches, sunsets that look like they were painted by gods. It’s about thirty minutes away from the city by train.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leaned against the mirrored wall of the lift. “Thirty minutes? You just decided this now?”

Taehyung tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Why not? What did I say earlier? Who decides the right time or right way to do things? If I want to see the sea tonight, then we’ll see the sea tonight.”

Jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose, staring at the elevator buttons like they might save him from this madness. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” Taehyung teased, swaying slightly as the lift descended, “you’re here. Dressed up and ready to go.”

Jungkook didn’t answer. He only shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor, trying not to let Taehyung notice the faint curve tugging at the corner of his lips.

The train rattled steadily as it pulled out of Kyoto station, carrying them toward the northern coast. The carriage was only half full an odd mix of locals heading home and tourists in sunhats with cameras slung around their necks. Taehyung had immediately claimed the window seat, pressing his forehead against the cool glass and watching the scenery shift from city streets to rolling hillsides painted in spring green.

Jungkook sat beside him, long legs stretched out, arms folded loosely over his chest. He told himself he was here for safety reasons only. Not because he wanted to. Not because Taehyung’s enthusiasm was contagious in a way that made him forget the weight in his chest.

“Look, look!” Taehyung’s hand shot out, pointing eagerly at a field that had appeared between clusters of houses. “Yellow rapeseed flowers! Doesn’t it look like someone spilled sunshine all over the earth?”

Jungkook barely glanced out the window. “It looks like a field.”

Taehyung turned to pout at him, his bunny hat ears flopping as if in protest. “You’re so boring.”

“Or maybe,” Jungkook countered dryly, “you’re just too easily impressed.”

But when Taehyung’s nose scrunched in mock indignation, Jungkook found himself fighting back the urge to smile. He shifted his gaze out the window quickly, trying to ignore the warmth creeping into his chest.

A little girl across the aisle dropped her candy packet, and before her mother could bend to pick it up, Taehyung was already there quick as lightning, scooping it up with both hands and offering it back with a grin so wide his eyes almost disappeared. The child giggled, hiding behind her mother’s sleeve, and Taehyunggiggled back.

The mother bowed her head in gratitude, and Taehyung returned to his seat as if nothing had happened.

Jungkook, however, found himself staring. The sunset light through the train’s wide window touched Taehyung’s skin, making his features glow soft and golden. His hair fluttered every time the wind gusted through the small vent above. He was smiling faintly to himself, chin in hand, tapping one foot in rhythm to a tune only he seemed to know.

And damn it, Jungkook thought, he looked beautiful. Not just in the way his jawline caught the light, or the curve of his mouth. But beautiful in the way he radiated warmth without realizing it in the way people around him seemed to breathe easier just because he was there.

Jungkook tore his gaze away, leaning back against the seat, jaw tight. What the hell am I doing staring at him like that?

Taehyung suddenly tugged on his sleeve. “Hey, Jungkook-ssi, if you could be any animal, what would you be?”

Jungkook blinked, caught off guard. “…What kind of stupid question is that?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s revealing.” Taehyung’s tone was serious, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “For example, I’d be a golden retriever. Loyal, sunshiney, and very cute.”

Jungkook snorted. “Annoying and noisy, you mean.”

“You see?” Taehyung grinned triumphantly. “You’re already thinking about it. So? What would you be?”

Jungkook looked away, muttering under his breath, “A tiger.”

Taehyung gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Of course! Strong, intimidating, scary to strangers… but actually just a big soft kitty once you get close.”

“I’m not soft,” Jungkook grumbled, but his ears had gone hot.

Taehyung laughed so loudly a couple of passengers turned their heads. Jungkook wanted to tell him to quiet down, but he didn’t. Not when the sound tugged something warm and aching inside him.

The train rocked gently as the coast drew nearer, the air in the carriage growing cooler with the sea breeze seeping in. Taehyung pressed his cheek against the glass again, fogging it with his breath, then doodled a wobbly little sun with his finger. He leaned back, looking proud of his masterpiece.

Jungkook stared, silent. And this time he didn’t bother to look away.

The rhythmic clatter of the wheels slowed, then finally hushed as the train slid into the small coastal station. The doors opened with a soft chime, letting in a sudden rush of crisp, salty air that carried the unmistakable scent of the sea.

Taehyung practically bounced out first, his bunny hat flopping wildly as he inhaled deeply, spreading his arms as if he could hug the entire coastline. “Ahh—do you smell that? Freedom!”

Jungkook stepped out more slowly, tugging his black t-shirt straight as his gaze swept the surroundings. The platform was smaller than Kyoto’s city stations, the air cooler, sharper, tinged with ocean mist. Beyond the low station walls, rooftops of weathered seaside houses peeked above the horizon, and somewhere past them, the muted roar of waves echoed like a steady heartbeat.

“Smells like salt,” Jungkook muttered, wrinkling his nose.

Taehyung turned, beaming at him, eyes bright and wide in the fading afternoon light. “Salt and adventure.” He tugged at Jungkook’s sleeve like an impatient child. “Come on, the beach is this way!”

They made their way down the narrow streets of the town, stone-paved and lined with little shops selling seashell trinkets, grilled seafood skewers, and wind chimes that tinkled gently whenever the breeze passed. Elderly shopkeepers sat outside on stools, nodding politely as the pair walked by. Taehyung greeted each one with a cheerful bow or a chirpy “Konbanwa!” while Jungkook followed a few steps behind, pretending to be unaffected but he couldn’t help noticing how easily Taehyung drew smiles from strangers.

As Jungkook trudged down the boardwalk after him, he finally had the chance to really look at Taehyung in the seaside light. The oversized strawberry-pink cardigan, the bunny-eared hat, the checkered shorts with pastel socks sticking out above his sneakers it was ridiculous. Ridiculously bright. Ridiculously loud.

Ridiculously him.

Beside him, Jungkook himself was all clean lines and muted tones black shirt, dark jeans, plain white sneakers. He looked like he had walked straight out of a minimalist catalogue. And Taehyung? He looked like a child’s doodle brought to life, a splash of mismatched color and unbothered joy.

The contrast was so stark it almost made Jungkook laugh. Almost.

We must look insane, he thought, narrowing his eyes as a couple strolled past, giving them a once-over and a smile that was just shy of amused. Like someone accidentally paired a mafia bodyguard with an overgrown five-year-old.

And yet despite how absurd it was, Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to feel embarrassed. Because Taehyung didn’t look embarrassed at all. In fact, he walked with his chest out, head high, greeting strangers as though his outfit was the finest fashion Kyoto had ever seen. And maybe that was the ridiculous part how he made it work. How he made everything work, simply by believing in it so much.

Jungkook shoved his hands into his pockets, shaking his head.

He looks insane. We both do. But… why the hell does it make me feel lighter instead of stupid?

Ahead of him, Taehyung was skipping giggling enjoying.

Jungkook sighed through his nose, his lips twitching at the corners. Yeah, they looked ridiculous. But maybe for once that wasn’t such a bad thing.

The jewelry stall glittered under the sun, every trinket catching the light like it was desperate to be noticed. Taehyung was already leaning halfway over the display, his cardigan sleeves brushing the edge as he sifted through necklaces strung with seashells, beads, and sea glass. His anklet bells chimed faintly every time he shifted his weight.

Jungkook hung back, hands in his pockets, eyes roving idly over the collection. He wasn’t here to buy anything at least that’s what he told himself but then his gaze snagged on a necklace tucked off to the side. A single honey-brown crystal, warm and translucent, caught the sunlight in such a way that it glowed like fire trapped in glass. For a strange, fleeting moment, Jungkook thought of Taehyung’s eyes those soft, warm browns that somehow burned when they looked at him too long. His jaw tightened. Ridiculous thought.

Still, he found himself motioning the vendor over, pointing quickly, discreetly, and sliding the necklace into a small pouch before Taehyung could notice. He didn’t even know why he was buying it. He just knew that the color felt like him.

Meanwhile, Taehyung turned, holding up two seashell necklaces in each hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a child demanding attention.

“Jungkook-ssi, look! Does this one look good? Or this one? What about this one?” He swapped them in quick succession, tilting his head and pouting dramatically each time.

Jungkook’s expression was perfectly deadpan, a long-suffering sigh escaping him. “They all look the same.”

“They don’t!” Taehyung gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been stabbed. Then he shoved one closer to Jungkook’s face. “This one is cute, right?”

“Sure,” Jungkook muttered, but his eyes lingered a beat too long on the way the white seashell glowed against Taehyung’s pale skin. In his chest, something tugged uncomfortably. Why does everything look good on him? Why does he get to be so… effortlessly beautiful while being ridiculous at the same time?

Taehyung grinned, satisfied with Jungkook’s half-hearted approval, and spun back toward the stall, humming to himself. He was just happy soaking up the moment, the colors, the sound of the sea faintly roaring in the distance. To him, these trinkets weren’t just jewelry; they were tiny keepsakes of a day he’d remember forever.

And Jungkook, standing in the sunlight with a pouch that held a necklace he’d never admit to buying, realized that somewhere between Taehyung’s nonsense questions and his giggling, he was slipping falling without even noticing it until it was too late.

Chapter Text

“When you fall in love with someone, you can’t help it. Things don’t go the way you plan them. It’s like being caught in the rain you can’t stop it, you can only let yourself get drenched.”

__________ haruki murakami

Jungkook had never been the kind to make reckless, impulsive decisions. Even in his youth when he went to parties, drank too much, hooked up, and strummed careless tunes on his guitar there had always been a limit, a boundary. The parties were not the wild, chaotic sort, but the curated gatherings of the rich, dressed in velvet and glass. Sophisticated, polished. Controlled.

There was always a reputation to protect. After all, his father was Jeon Corp’s founder the great man who had built an empire brick by brick. Jungkook, however, had never cared for it. Numbers and contracts bored him; the hum of business was not the song of his life. He wanted music lyrics written at 3 a.m., chords pulled from his soul, perhaps one day a stage to sing them on. But his father had dismissed all of that with a single look. And then, without warning, the man was gone leaving behind not just a company, but a mountain of expectation that crushed Jungkook before he had even figured out who he was.

It had felt unbearably unfair. Yet years had passed, and Jungkook adapted. He shouldered the burden, sharpened himself into steel, expanded Jeon Corp until its name thundered even louder than before. He had met Lily along the way, someone who fit seamlessly into that version of his life the perfect wife, the perfect partner, the perfect image. For a moment, it almost looked like fate had settled.

And then, just as suddenly as it had been built, everything shattered. His carefully arranged life turned to dust.

And now here he was Jeon Jungkook, the so-called heir of an empire wandering through the quiet streets of Kyoto Prefecture, following behind a boy comically overdressed in a frilly cardigan and dainty necklaces, leading him toward the sea.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. It made him want to laugh, maybe even curse. But instead, he just kept walking, watching the ridiculous swing of Taehyung’s steps.

For the first time in years, he wasn’t carrying the weight of Jeon Corp. He was simply following.

Taehyung finally settled on a seashell necklace and a thin silver ring with tiny blue beads, clutching his little bag of treasures like it was gold. Jungkook shook his head, muttering about how ridiculous it all was, but his fingers brushed the hidden pouch in his pocket the honey-crystal necklace he’d bought quietly and his chest felt unsteady.

The road curved downhill, the air shifting with every step. A faint tang of salt began to creep in, sharp and refreshing, as if the sea itself was calling them closer. By the time they reached the last stretch of street, the wind had picked up, carrying with it the cries of distant gulls and the rush of waves hitting the shore.

And then, suddenly, there it was.

The beach opened up before them, wide and endless, the water stretching into the horizon. Noon sunlight spilled across the waves, turning the crests into silver fire. The sand shimmered pale gold, hot under Taehyungs feet.A couple of old fishermen sat further down the shore, untangling their nets with patient hands.

It wasn’t crowded not at all. The emptiness was almost startling. The locals knew beaches in spring weren’t the same as in summer; they came alive in July and August when the heat pushed everyone towards the water. But now, on a weekday in early spring, the sea felt like a secret only a few had remembered to visit.

The weather was perfect not too hot, not too cool. The spring breeze rushed past them in playful gusts, carrying away Taehyung’s laughter as he spread his arms dramatically, cardigan flapping like wings. His giggles resonated on the empty beach , and his sunglasses slipped down his nose in the most ridiculous way.

Jungkook shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his expression faintly disapproving, but his eyes his eyes wouldn’t leave Taehyung. The absurd clothes, the shiny little seashell necklace now swinging against his chest, the way he looked at the sea like it was the first miracle he’d ever witnessed. Jungkook thought he looked… out of place, yes. Overdressed, silly, even laughable against the simple backdrop of sand and sky.

And yet.

Why does he fit so perfectly anywhere he goes? Jungkook wondered, a strange warmth spreading low in his chest.

Taehyung turned suddenly, catching Jungkook staring, and grinned as if he had seen right through him.

“See? Not stupid at all. This is the perfect time for the beach.”

Jungkook exhaled slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself, and for once he had no argument ready.

Taehyung’s eyes lit up the moment he spotted a fisherman preparing a small wooden boat, rocking gently on the tide. He tugged on Jungkook’s sleeve like a child begging for candy.

“Let’s go out there,” he said, pointing eagerly.

Jungkook frowned, following his gaze. “On that? No way. You go if you want, I’ll just sit here like a sane person.” He dropped down on the sand for emphasis, arms crossed.

But Taehyung was already waving at the fisherman, asking in his charming, half-broken Japanese if they could borrow the boat for a while. Before Jungkook knew it, he was being pulled by the wrist toward the shore.

“Yah! Kim Taehyung!” he barked, trying to dig his heels into the sand.

Taehyung only grinned, eyes sparkling. “Come on, Jungkook-ssi! Don’t act like an ahjussi. You’ll thank me later.”

With much grumbling and a reluctant shove, Jungkook found himself seated in the rocking boat, arms stiff at his sides while Taehyung hummed and laughed as though they were on a grand voyage. The fisherman gave them a push, and the oars sliced through the water, carrying them away from the shore until the beach was only a ribbon behind them.

The sea stretched endless and vast. Sunlight spilled like honey across the rippling waves, and the salt-heavy breeze tousled Taehyung’s hair. He sat at the edge, leaning dangerously close to the water, giggling as though the ocean itself was telling him jokes.

Jungkook tried to look away, but his gaze kept coming back. Taehyung looked alive in a way few people did like he wasn’t just existing but truly living. And it made Jungkook’s chest ache.

Then, without warning, Taehyung stood up, shrugging off his oversized cardigan and pulling his shirt over his head in one swift motion, leaving only his shorts.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jungkook asked, startled, leaning forward to grab his wrist.

“I’m going in,” Taehyung said simply, grinning as though he’d just announced something as ordinary as buying ice cream.

“You’re insane,” Jungkook snapped. “It’s spring. The water’s cold as fuck. You’ll freeze.”

Taehyung only looked at him, that warm, infuriating smile never faltering. “Jungkook-ssi, life is short. And life is only one. Do you know what kills a man faster than cold water? Regret. I don’t want to walk around carrying it like baggage.” His voice softened, almost lyrical. “I do what my heart says because tomorrow isn’t promised, but this moment is.”

For once, Jungkook had no sharp retort. His hand, still half-raised, dropped slowly back to his knee. Taehyung’s words sank into him, carving something open.

And before Jungkook could stop him, Taehyung dove in, his body slicing through the water with a clean arc. The sea rippled, glittering where he vanished, before his head broke the surface again. His laugh carried across the waves, bright and careless.

Jungkook sat frozen for a moment, his jaw tight, his heart louder than the ocean. And then he exhaled, shaking his head with a wry smile. “Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath. Stripping his own shirt off, revealing the ink across his skin, he stood and launched himself into the sea.

The water was cold shockingly so but beneath the sting was freedom. The two of them surfaced together, breathless and laughing, droplets of sunlight clinging to their faces. Around them, the ocean stretched vast and endless, yet in that moment it felt like it belonged only to them.

The shock of the cold water made Jungkook hiss through his teeth, but Taehyung only burst into laughter, splashing a handful of seawater straight at him.

“You’re insane,” Jungkook muttered, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead only for Taehyung to splash him again, harder this time.

“Correction,” Taehyung grinned, bobbing in the waves, “I’m fun. You should try it sometime, Jungkook-ssi.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny?” Jungkook growled, narrowing his eyes. Then, before Taehyung could react, he lunged, sending a spray of water in every direction. Taehyung shrieked, trying to swim away, but Jungkook’s strokes were stronger, faster. In seconds, he had closed the gap, sending a wave crashing right into Taehyung’s face.

“Yah!” Taehyung sputtered, half-laughing, half-whining, wiping water from his eyes. “Unfair, you’re like a shark!”

Jungkook smirked, chest heaving as he floated lazily, “More like a predator. You’re just too easy of a target.”

Taehyung splashed him again in retaliation, then darted away, his laughter ringing across the open sea like music. He swam in wide circles, hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks pink from the cold, joy radiating from him as though he were made of sunlight, even in icy waters.

Jungkook gave chase, half-annoyed, half-amused, but every time Taehyung turned back to grin at him, that annoyance melted into something else something Jungkook refused to name.

Eventually, breathless and laughing, they both floated on their backs, staring up at the pale sky. Waves rocked them gently, cool and vast.

Taehyung spoke between gasps of laughter. “See? Worth it.”

Jungkook didn’t answer at first, still catching his breath. But when he turned his head, Taehyung’s face was there, close, wet and glowing in the sunlight, and all Jungkook could do was look away quickly before the pounding in his chest gave him away.

By the time they finally swam back to the boat, both were panting, their arms heavy from the fight with the waves. Jungkook hauled himself up first, water streaming down his toned frame, his dark hair plastered against his forehead. He turned and reached out a hand, wordlessly, to Taehyung.

Taehyung took it, his smaller palm slipping into Jungkook’s firm grip, and with one strong pull he was back in the boat, tumbling onto the wooden floor with a laugh. His wet hair clung to his temples, his cheeks flushed from the cold, but his grin was so wide it was as if the sea had given him its own joy.

“You’re insane,” Jungkook repeated, shaking his head, water dripping from his jaw onto his chest.

“And you’re boring,” Taehyung shot back, pushing his wet hair back, strands sticking out in all directions. “But at least you followed me. Admit it, Jungkook-ssi, it felt good, didn’t it?”

Jungkook scoffed, looking away toward the horizon. The sun glared off the water, dazzling and golden. “It was freezing.”

“Freezing, yes,” Taehyung said softly, tugging his knees up and hugging them, a playful smile tugging at his lips, “but wasn’t it alive? That’s the thing you only feel alive when you step into the cold, the unknown. Playing safe all the time makes life lukewarm. And lukewarm is the saddest way to live.”

The words lingered, far too heavy for the boy who spoke them while dripping wet and laughing moments ago. Jungkook looked at him then, really looked at his smile, his shining eyes, his bare shoulders glistening under the sun and something in his chest twisted painfully.

“Crazy kid,” Jungkook muttered, but the sharpness had gone from his tone.

Taehyung laughed, leaning back on his hands to soak in the sunlight. “Maybe. But you followed me into the crazy anyway.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw, staring at the horizon again, because admitting Taehyung was right would mean admitting something else too something about how easy it was becoming to follow him anywhere.

By the time they rowed back to shore, both were soaked through, salt clinging to their skin, laughter still ghosting their lips. The fishermen had already gone, the children with buckets too, leaving the beach almost deserted. The sky was beginning to change washed in strokes of gold and lavender, the first whispers of dusk painting the horizon.

They sat side by side on the sand, Taehyung bundled back into his oversized cardigan, Jungkook in his plain shirt, both of them still damp but warm from the fading sun.

The ocean spread wide before them, waves rolling in steady, endless rhythm. The air carried the briny scent of salt and the faint chill of the evening breeze. Gulls dipped low, their cries soft, dissolving into the roar of water meeting land. It was serene the kind of serenity Jungkook didn’t remember the last time he felt.

Taehyung hugged his knees loosely, his gaze fixed on the glowing horizon. The dying sun glimmered in his brown eyes, making them look as though they held their own fire. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice low, thoughtful.

“You know… waves remind me of people,” he said. “They crash, they break, but they always return. No matter how many times they fall apart, they come back. Maybe that’s life too falling, breaking, then gathering yourself again to return stronger. The shore doesn’t stop the ocean, Jungkook-ssi. It just teaches it to keep moving.”

The words hung in the air, soft yet unshakable, carried by the sea breeze like some unspoken truth.

Jungkook turned his head, his eyes resting on him. Taehyung didn’t look back, still watching the sea, hair ruffling gently in the wind. The orange light of the setting sun painted his profile, casting him in warmth that Jungkook couldn’t look away from.

And that’s when it hit him how heavy his chest felt, how fast his heart had begun to beat without his permission. Falling, without realizing. Not into the sea, but into someone.

Jungkook tore his gaze away, jaw tightening, but the feeling didn’t leave. If anything, it burrowed deeper, unshakable as the tide.

Taehyung shifted in the sand, tugging the hem of his cardigan down as he pulled a small pouch from his pocket the anklet he had bought earlier, the one with tiny charms that glittered like drops of sunlight. He bent forward, trying to fasten it around his ankle, but his fingers fumbled, slippery with sand.

Before he could finish, Jungkook reached over and snatched it from him.

“give it back!” Taehyung protested, his pout forming instantly.

Jungkook shook his head, lips quirking as he examined the delicate piece. “You’ll break it like that. Let me.”

Taehyung huffed but leaned back on his hands, offering his ankle without further protest. The sight made Jungkook’s throat tighten the soft curve of Taehyung’s foot, grains of sand clinging to his pale skin, toes half-buried in the shore. He knelt, brushing away the sand carefully before fastening the anklet in place. The tiny charms caught the sunset, scattering golden reflections across Taehyung’s skin.

For a fleeting moment, Taehyung just looked at him really looked. At Jungkook’s concentration, his hands surprisingly gentle, his dark hair falling forward as the breeze tousled it. If he can move past whatever shadows he carries… he’ll shine. He’ll be the happiest person alive. The thought made Taehyung’s chest warm.

When Jungkook sat back with a satisfied nod, Taehyung smirked. “You know, you’re surprisingly good at this. Do you secretly practice putting jewelry on your lovers?”

Jungkook shot him a glare, ears reddening. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

Taehyung laughed, standing abruptly and brushing sand off his shorts. “How about we race Jungkook-ssi! I bet you'll lose though because you're old” he sang, darting away before Jungkook could retort.

“ Come back here!” Jungkook shouted, springing to his feet. He chased after him, their feet kicking up sprays of sand as they ran along the shoreline.

The sea breeze whipped through their hair, tugging their laughter into the wind. The sun was sinking lower now, a fiery orange sinking into the horizon, painting the waves in molten light. Taehyung’s cardigan flared behind him as he sprinted, giggling like a child, and Jungkook, despite himself, grinned as he ran after him.

Two figures, side by side with the sea at their feet and the sky ablaze above like they had outrun the world, leaving behind only freedom, laughter, and the rhythm of the waves.

Ridiculous. He’s ridiculous. Jungkook thought, but his chest felt unbearably light. Every time Taehyung’s laughter carried across the waves, it tugged something inside him loose.

Taehyung darted ahead, the little pouch clutched to his chest like stolen treasure. He looked back over his shoulder, his hair whipping in the breeze, and shouted between giggles, “You’re too old, Jungkook-ssi! You’ll never catch me!”

That did it. Something in Jungkook snapped, part pride, part amusement. “Old?!” he barked, picking up his pace. “I’ll show you who’s old, brat!”

Taehyung squealed with laughter, pumping his legs faster, but the sand slowed him down. Jungkook closed the gap in long strides until finally his arm hooked firmly around Taehyung’s waist. With one strong tug, he lifted him clean off the ground.

“Got you!” Jungkook’s voice was triumphant as he spun Taehyung around in the air.

Taehyung shrieked with laughter, his hands smacking against Jungkook’s shoulders as he wriggled helplessly. His giggles were breathless, spilling out like music, and Jungkook against all expectation laughed too. A deep, unguarded laugh that ripped from his chest, so loud it startled even him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like this.

The world spun with them, sunset blurring into sea and sand, until Jungkook’s knees gave way and they both tumbled down onto the beach. Jungkook landed on his back with a soft thud, sand flying up around them, and Taehyung ended up sprawled on top of him, clutching his pouch of coins like victory.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Taehyung’s breath fanned Jungkook’s cheek, his hair brushing Jungkook’s jaw. His lips, parted in laughter, were suddenly too close. Jungkook’s hand still rested at his waist, the warmth of him seeping straight through the cardigan.

Their eyes met, and the giggles faded into silence, replaced by something heavy and electric. Jungkook’s heart slammed against his ribs, erratic and wild, while Taehyung’s own chest rose and fell rapidly against him.

The ocean’s roar softened into background music; all Jungkook could hear was the quick inhale Taehyung made, the flutter of lashes over flushed cheeks.

Too close, Jungkook thought, though he didn’t move. Too close, and yet… why can’t I let go?

Taehyung blinked down at him, wide-eyed, his grin faltering into a softness Jungkook couldn’t quite name. His own heart whispered the dangerous truth: If moments could last forever, I’d want this one to stay.

But the intensity of it all was too much. Jungkook finally cleared his throat, loosening his hold, and Taehyung scrambled off him with cheeks flushed red, mumbling something incoherent. Jungkook sat up slower, brushing sand from his arms, though his chest still hammered like a war drum.

Neither of them said a word about what had just happened. But the silence between them felt louder than any laughter.

By the time they left the shore, the sun had already dipped past the horizon, painting the sky in fading streaks of purple and rose. Darkness settled gently, the sea breeze trailing behind them as they made their way back toward the main streets. The spring air, once golden and warm, had grown cooler now, brushing against their damp clothes and raising goosebumps on their skin.

They walked side by side, their footsteps sinking into the sand at first before reaching the cobbled path that led back toward Kyoto Prefecture. Street lamps flickered to life one by one, casting a honeyed glow on the narrow lanes, where the wooden façades of old machiya houses stood in quiet dignity. Lanterns hung outside a few small shops still open, swaying softly in the breeze, and the faint perfume of blooming cherry blossoms drifted down from trees lining the road.

Taehyung, who had been humming to himself, broke the silence with a gentle smile. “Did you have fun today, Jungkook-ssi?”

Jungkook shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze fixed on the road ahead. He wanted to shrug it off, say something nonchalant, but the images of Taehyung’s laughter in the sea, the way the sunset had painted his skin gold, lingered stubbornly. “…It was good,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he intended.

Taehyung grinned wide, satisfied, kicking a stray pebble as they continued down the lamp-lit street.

The chill in the air deepened as they moved further inland, their breaths faintly visible now under the lantern light. The sound of their footsteps echoed faintly off the narrow alleys, and from somewhere, the faint chatter of people in izakayas and the sizzling aroma of grilled food carried on the breeze.

Jungkook slowed his steps, his stomach giving the faintest protest. He glanced sideways at Taehyung, who was busy craning his neck up to admire a line of blossoms drooping gracefully over a shopfront. “Let’s stop somewhere and eat,” Jungkook said suddenly, the words slipping out almost naturally.

Taehyung turned to him, surprised, then his smile bloomed soft and bright. “Thought you’d never ask.”

The two of them continued down the narrow street, lantern light pooling around them, the spring night wrapping them in its cool, blossoming quiet.

They followed the glow of hanging lanterns until they found a small, tucked-away eatery with a noren curtain fluttering in the breeze. The warm scent of broth and grilled fish spilled into the street, and Jungkook paused, tilting his head slightly. Taehyung peeked in first, eyes lighting up at the sight of the low tables and the old couple bustling behind the counter.

Inside, the place was small but inviting. Wooden floors creaked softly under their steps, paper lanterns glowed dimly above, and the air hummed with the soft murmur of two other customers already eating in a corner. The walls were decorated with faded photographs of Kyoto through the seasons snow-capped shrines, autumn leaves, and pink rivers of cherry blossoms.

They slid into a table near the window. Outside, cherry petals occasionally fluttered past the glass, carried by the cool spring breeze.

A waitress brought them menus, but Taehyung hardly glanced at his before peering across the table. “I want something warm. My bones are still shivering from the sea,” he said, rubbing his arms with a pout.

“You shouldn’t have jumped in at all. It was stupid,” Jungkook muttered, flipping through the menu. But there wasn’t much bite to his voice it sounded almost like worry.

Taehyung grinned, tilting his head. “Stupid things are usually the ones you remember the longest.”

Jungkook looked up at him, ready to retort, but found himself caught for a second by the way Taehyung’s damp hair curled slightly at the nape, the glow of the lanterns catching in his still-bright eyes. He quickly dropped his gaze back to the menu. “Whatever. Just order.”

Taehyung leaned over the table slightly, chin propped on his palm as he studied Jungkook with unabashed amusement. “You always pretend like you don’t care, but I think you secretly do. It’s cute.”

Jungkook shot him a sharp look, ears faintly burning. “Stop saying stupid things.”

When the food came bowls of steaming udon, grilled skewers, and a shared plate of tempura the warmth seemed to sink into their chilled bones. Jungkook focused on his noodles, eating steadily, while Taehyung kept breaking into small exclamations of delight, praising everything from the soup’s flavor to the crispiness of the shrimp.

“Don’t make that much noise,” Jungkook muttered, though his lips twitched when Taehyung made a little victory hum after catching a slippery noodle.

Taehyung raised his chopsticks in mock triumph. “See? Even the noodles like me better.”

Jungkook shook his head, biting back a laugh, but something in his chest softened. Sitting here, across from this infuriating, bright, reckless man who made even eating dinner feel like a celebration Jungkook felt the emptiness inside him quiet just a little.

The train ride back was quieter than their usual chatter-filled journeys. It was late, and the cars were nearly empty, save for a few travelers dozing against the windows. Taehyung sat by the window, his cheek pressed against the glass as he hummed softly, watching the blur of lantern-lit streets and flickers of cherry blossoms outside. Jungkook sat beside him, arms crossed, eyes closed as if resting but his thoughts were restless, replaying the sounds of Taehyung’s laughter on the beach, the warmth of his waist under his hands, the way the boy had looked at him with unfiltered joy.

By the time they stepped into the inn, the warm light of the lobby felt welcoming against the cool night air. The manager behind the counter lit up upon seeing them and hurried over.

“Mr. Jeon,” she said politely, bowing slightly. “We’re so sorry for the delay. A room has opened up for you now, if you’d like to move.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, and he hesitated only for a moment before shaking his head. “No. It’s fine. I don’t need another room.”

Taehyung blinked at him in surprise, eyes wide. He turned to look at Jungkook as they walked down the hall together. “You don’t? You’ve been asking for another room since the day we got here.”

Jungkook kept his gaze forward, tone flat. “Too much hassle. We’re leaving in a few days anyway.”

Taehyung’s lips quirked into a playful grin. “So, you want to live with me. Admit it. I’m such a fun company, aren’t I?”

Jungkook gave him a side-eye, but said nothing. He didn’t trust his own voice right now, so silence seemed safer. Taehyung chuckled at the non-answer and skipped a little ahead, clearly amused.

The hotel room was dim, the only light spilling from the small lamp on the bedside table, soft and amber. The curtains were drawn but not fully, and a sliver of Kyoto’s night flickered in through the gap neon glow and the faint hum of traffic far below. 

Taehyung sat cross-legged on his bed, cardigan slipping off one shoulder, his cheek resting against his palm. He tilted his head slightly, eyes fixed on Jungkook who was leaning against the wall near the window, arms folded as though he were bracing himself against something.

“Now that we’re friends,” Taehyung said softly, “you should tell me why that day you were trying to die. Or at least tell me about yourself.”

Jungkook looked at him with that practiced expression of boredom, the one that usually shut people out. But Taehyung didn’t look away. He just stayed there quiet, patient, as if he knew Jungkook’s walls were made of paper, not stone.

Finally, Jungkook exhaled, almost a laugh but not quite. “My company became bankrupt,” he said flatly. “Scandalized. Everything my father built… gone. And my fiancée ” his jaw tightened “cheated on me.”

Taehyung only nodded, his eyes not flickering with pity but with something softer, steadier. He shifted slightly on the bed, tucking one leg under himself. His voice came low, but it felt like something that filled the room, as if even the lamp-light leaned closer to listen.

“You know, Jungkook-ssi,” Taehyung began, “sometimes when someone leaves us or abandons us we start blaming ourselves. We let these pathetic thoughts grow, like weeds, telling ourselves we’re not enough. That there’s something in us that’s lacking, some flaw that made them go.” His gaze didn’t waver from Jungkook. “But that is never the truth. It’s never us. It’s always them. They’re the ones who aren’t good enough, who don’t deserve us. We lack nothing. They’re simply blind, or selfish, or greedy.”

Jungkook’s eyes lowered. The words felt like they were reaching inside, touching things he’d been keeping wrapped up and silent. All this time he had been convinced he was a failure that it was his weakness, his misstep, his bad judgment. And here was this boy, saying it like it was a simple fact of life.

Taehyung’s fingers idly traced the hem of his cardigan as he went on, his voice like a tide lapping gently at the edges of Jungkook’s thoughts. “I know words can’t heal you. They can’t erase pain or make it vanish. But giving up…” he paused, eyes searching Jungkook’s face, “…giving up is never an option. Not for people like you, Jungkook-ssi. You’re stronger than you think.”

He leaned back on his hands now, shoulders relaxed but eyes fierce. “And your company if it’s truly gone, then build something new. Different. Something that’s yours. You have these hands, this mind, this heart. Don’t let the ruin of something old be the end of you. Let it be the start.”

The lamp hummed faintly. Outside, the wind had picked up, brushing the curtains so they swayed like slow waves. Jungkook found himself staring at Taehyung, his words echoing louder than the city outside. He had never been spoken to like this before not by Lily, not by any board member, not even by his father.

And for the first time in months, maybe years, something shifted quietly inside him something not unlike hope, fragile but alive.

Jungkook stayed where he was, leaning against the window, his arms still folded across his chest. Taehyung, however, suddenly hopped up from the bed, cardigan sleeves flopping around his wrists. His eyes lit up as if an idea had just sparked in his head, and he practically bounced toward Jungkook.

“Jungkook-ssi!” Taehyung exclaimed, his voice almost boyish in its excitement. “You know what you should do? Just remove every trace of her. Delete the pictures, the chats, the phone calls all of it. Erase her from here ” he tapped his temple, “and from here too.” He tapped Jungkook’s chest dramatically. “And then live. Just live. Enjoy the beauty of Kyoto, breathe, eat, laugh. Start new.”

Jungkook gave him a flat look, one eyebrow raising. “That’s… childish,” he said bluntly. “You don’t move on by deleting things. You can’t just pretend it never happened. You need to be mature about it.”

Taehyung gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest. “Oh, listen to Mr. Wise! As if you’re full of experience in this department,” he teased, narrowing his eyes playfully. Then his tone softened, more insistent. “Believe me, Jungkook-ssi. It helps. When you delete those little reminders, you stop stabbing yourself with them every day.”

Jungkook sighed, shaking his head, but Taehyung was already reaching for his phone on the nightstand. “Give it.”

“No,” Jungkook said firmly, but Taehyung was relentless, tugging at his arm until Jungkook rolled his eyes and finally handed it over. He watched, unimpressed, as Taehyung swiped through his gallery and chats, pausing only to glare at Jungkook whenever he hesitated. “Don’t give me that look,” Taehyung said, fingers moving fast. “You’ll thank me later.”

One by one, the pictures disappeared. The smiling faces, the candid shots, the saved chats they were gone. Jungkook stood stiff, his jaw tight, but when the last one was deleted, he did feel… something.

Taehyung clapped his hands. “Now!” he announced brightly. “Take a long breath.”

“What?”

“A deep one. Fill your lungs with it.”

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Do it,” Taehyung said firmly, his small frame squared up in front of him like he could take him on. “And then say, ‘I deserve the world, and I am not going to give up.’”

Jungkook barked a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What am I, fifteen?”

Taehyung crossed his arms, tilting his head in that stubborn way that made him look both childish and oddly commanding. “No. You’re Jungkook-ssi, who thinks too much and doesn’t laugh enough. Say it. Out loud.”

Somehow, against all logic, Jungkook found himself standing on the terrace with Taehyung. The night was cool, the spring breeze carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. The city below was alive with neon lights and the occasional rattle of a passing tram.

“Come on,” Taehyung urged, nudging him. “One big shout. Say it.”

Jungkook groaned under his breath but finally gave in. Taking a deep breath, he shouted into the night, “I deserve the world, and I am not going to give up!”

His voice echoed faintly across the buildings, vanishing into the night air. He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. And strangely… strangely, the heaviness in his chest had loosened, just a little.

Taehyung threw his head back and laughed loud, free, utterly unrestrained. His cardigan sleeves flapped as he spun in a little circle, his laughter spilling into the moonlit sky.

Jungkook turned his head to look at him. The moonlight painted Taehyung in silver, catching in his hair, his eyes crinkled with mirth, his smile so wide it seemed to brighten even the shadows. Jungkook felt something pull inside his chest. And before he realized it, his lips curved into a smile a real one. Genuine. The kind he hadn’t worn in a very long time.

In that moment, he wasn’t Jeon Jungkook, heir of Jeon Corp, or the man who had lost everything. He was just a man standing on a terrace, under the Kyoto moon, laughing quietly because someone had made life feel light again.

And he was happy. Truly happy, in that fleeting, beautiful moment.

They stayed out on the terrace longer than they realized. Taehyung leaned over the railing, chin resting on his folded arms, still giggling every now and then as if Jungkook’s shout was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Jungkook stood beside him, hands shoved into his pockets, watching him out of the corner of his eye. That laugh it wasn’t just sound. It was warmth. It was sunlight spilled into the dark.

When the chill began to settle heavier on their shoulders, they finally drifted back inside. The room was dim, only the bedside lamp casting a soft glow. Taehyung immediately crawled onto his bed, tugging his comforter over himself, and hummed some silly little tune under his breath.

Jungkook lingered, staring at his own bed with an unreadable expression. But instead of lying down right away, he sat on the edge, pulled out his phone, and stared at the blank screen for a long time. His thumb hovered, then he opened his messages.

Namjoon-hyung: How are you holding up?

The message had been left unanswered since the morning.

For once, Jungkook didn’t overthink. He typed slowly, deliberately.

Jungkook: I’m… feeling better.

He read it twice, almost wanting to delete it, but instead, he hit send. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips.

Sliding his phone onto the nightstand, Jungkook finally lay down, shifting beneath his blanket. His gaze wandered despite himself to Taehyung, curled on the opposite bed. His face was turned slightly toward Jungkook, soft in sleep, lips parted the faintest bit. The blanket had slid down to his shoulders, and one hand rested carelessly against his cheek.

Jungkook caught himself staring. His chest tightened in that now-familiar way, his heartbeat drumming too fast for someone who was supposed to be tired. He wondered no, worried what it would feel like if Taehyung weren’t here. If the room fell silent again, if the laughter vanished. The thought made his throat ache.

Quickly, he rolled onto his back and squeezed his eyes shut.

But even with his eyes closed, the image of Taehyung’s smile under the moonlight lingered, etched into his mind like a stubborn afterglow.

And for the first time in a long time, Jungkook drifted into sleep with his lips still curved in a faint smile.

Chapter Text

“Do you believe in destiny, Jungkook-ssi?”

Taehyung was walking backwards again, arms spread slightly for balance, his hair ruffling with every step.

Jungkook’s eyes trailed over him briefly before falling back on the street ahead. Of course he’d ask something like that.

“I don’t,” Jungkook replied simply, his tone flat, unbothered.

Taehyung puffed out his cheeks, mock-offended, though his eyes sparkled as if he’d expected nothing less. He wore a loose cream cardigan thrown over a striped shirt, the hem untucked, paired with soft brown trousers that bunched slightly at the ankles above his sneakers. His backpack clung to his shoulders, its keychains jingling every time he hopped a step. He looked like carefree, warm, and far too bright for the quiet streets of Kyoto.

Beside him, Jungkook was the opposite, as if he’d deliberately muted himself against Taehyung’s color. A plain navy full-sleeved shirt, dark denim, neat sneakers. Nothing out of place, nothing frivolous, nothing that drew attention. He looked exactly like what he was measured, polished, restrained.

It was yet another day in Kyoto. The air smelled faintly of earth and blossoms, the faint breeze carrying with it the scent of early-blooming cherry trees. Petals fluttered now and then, scattering like shy confetti on the stone-paved streets. The sky was soft blue, feathered with clouds that seemed in no rush to move. Shop fronts were opening, noren curtains swaying gently with every door slide, and the chatter of locals blended with the distant rumble of a passing train.

Jungkook had woken up that morning to Taehyung’s sleepy voice on the phone, muffled through the comforter. He hadn’t meant to listen, but words had slipped through the haze of half-dreams—“No, I’m fine… just a little piercing ache when I overwork my body… don’t cry.”

Jungkook hadn’t caught everything, but the fragments clung stubbornly, refusing to leave his thoughts.

And then, as if nothing heavy had been spoken at all, Taehyung had bounced out of bed, his face glowing with a sunshiney grin, and pulled Jungkook out into the streets, insisting they visit Arashiyama.

Now, under the warmth of Kyoto’s spring light, Jungkook found himself walking beside him, his mind still circling those words.

“Why don’t you?” Taehyung tilted his head as he walked backwards, his cardigan sleeves slipping over his wrists, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Life is all about destiny.”

Jungkook gave him a long, unimpressed look. “Life is about choices. Destiny is just an excuse people make when they don’t want to admit their choices led them somewhere.”

Taehyung gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as though he’d been gravely insulted. “What a tragic way to live! Don’t you think some things… some meetings… are just too perfect to be coincidence?” His voice softened for just a beat, his eyes flickering toward Jungkook before darting away.

“Coincidences happen every day,” Jungkook said firmly. “We just like to romanticize them. People cling to the idea of fate because it’s easier than accepting that life is chaos.”

But even as he spoke, his eyes betrayed him. The way Taehyung’s hair caught the morning light long, falling in soft waves until it brushed his shoulders distracted him. There was something unreasonably beautiful about it, the kind of detail that gnawed at him when he least expected it. He wondered, not for the first time, if Taehyung grew it long for a reason. Did it mean something to him? Did it hide something, or was it just another whimsical choice?

Almost against his will, the question slipped out. “Why do you keep your hair that long?”

Taehyung stopped mid-step, blinking at him, then laughed softly as though Jungkook’s curiosity was a secret victory. “Because it feels like freedom. Short hair always made me feel boxed in, too proper, too… like someone I wasn’t. With long hair, I feel like myself. Like the wind belongs to me.” His fingers brushed absently through the strands, and he smiled, bright and unapologetic. “Besides, isn’t it beautiful?”

Jungkook’s throat went dry. He forced his gaze away. “It’s… noticeable,” he muttered, hoping it sounded neutral.

They turned a corner and stopped in front of a rental shop lined with cars, scooters, and bikes. Jungkook exhaled in relief. “Finally. No more trains. We’ll rent a car it’s quicker.”

But Taehyung had already zeroed in on something else. His eyes lit up as they landed on a sleek black motorbike parked at the far end. “Nooo, let’s ride a bike! A car is boring. A bike feels alive, don’t you think?”

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s dangerous. And inconvenient. And—”

Taehyung was already halfway toward the motorbike, grinning like a child seeing a toy he’d wanted forever. He glanced back over his shoulder, his hair flying, his smile unrestrained. “Come on, Jungkook-ssi! This is what traveling is about. Feeling the road, the wind freedom!”

Jungkook opened his mouth to argue again, but then he caught the way Taehyung’s entire face glowed with anticipation, how happiness practically radiated from him. He felt something inside him give way. Against every practical bone in his body, he heard himself sigh, “Fine.”

Taehyung clapped his hands together in delight. “I knew you couldn’t resist!”

And for the briefest moment, Jungkook wondered if maybe just maybe this boy’s belief in destiny was infectious.

Finally, after much back-and-forth, they ended up with the bike Taehyung had been eyeing so longingly. It was a sleek matte-black Yamaha XSR700, retro-styled with a modern edge low enough to feel grounded, powerful enough to hum with life. The chrome accents caught the spring sunlight, and the leather seat gleamed as if it had been waiting for someone to take it down the open roads.

Jungkook ran a hand over the handlebar, exhaling sharply. “Of all things, you just had to pick this…”

“It’s perfect,” Taehyung said with an awed grin, circling the bike like it was a masterpiece. His fingers brushed along the frame as though he were greeting an old friend. “Don’t you think it looks like freedom?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes but swung one leg over and settled into the front seat. He looked as steady and controlled as ever, his plain navy shirt fitting snug across his shoulders, his hands testing the throttle and brake with practiced ease.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. He slipped on the spare helmet, then climbed on behind Jungkook, sliding closer than Jungkook had prepared himself for. His arms looped around Jungkook’s waist with no hesitation, his chin hovering near Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook went rigid. The warmth of Taehyung’s body pressed against his back, the faint scent of soap still lingering from his morning shower, the jingling of the little keychains on his backpack that clinked against the bike’s side it all felt too close, too alive.

“You’ll fall if you don’t hold on tighter,” Jungkook muttered, trying to sound gruff.

“I trust you,” Taehyung replied easily, his voice muffled by the helmet but somehow still bright, still carrying that endless cheer. He leaned in, resting lightly against Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook’s heart gave a single, traitorous thump.

He twisted the ignition, and the bike roared to life beneath them, the engine vibrating through their bones. Taehyung let out a delighted laugh, the sound ringing in Jungkook’s ears even louder than the motor.

And as they pulled out onto the road, Jungkook couldn’t decide what unsettled him more the rush of the wind against his face or the boy behind him, holding on like he was the only anchor Taehyung ever needed.

The engine purred beneath them as Jungkook steered the matte-black Yamaha onto the narrow Kyoto streets, the tires humming softly against the asphalt. Spring air swept past, cool and fragrant, carrying with it the mingled scents of blooming cherry blossoms and the faint sharpness of freshly brewed coffee drifting out of roadside cafés. Lanterns still swayed lazily outside wooden teahouses, and the tiled roofs of traditional machiya houses gleamed faintly in the noon sun.

Taehyung’s laughter spilled out again when the bike picked up speed, the sound boyish, unrestrained, and so contagious that Jungkook had to bite down on his lip to stop his own from curving upward.

Behind him, Taehyung leaned into the ride as though he had been waiting for this moment his entire life. His arms hugged Jungkook’s waist with no hesitation, his palms warm even through the cotton of Jungkook’s shirt. The wind tugged at the ends of his shoulder-length hair that slipped from beneath his helmet, strands fluttering like ribbons in the breeze.

“I’ve always wanted this,” Taehyung’s voice came muffled but clear, vibrating against Jungkook’s back. “A long drive on a bike, no destination, just… the road, the sky, and someone with me.”

The words should have been simple, casual even but Jungkook’s chest tightened sharply. His heartbeat thudded harder, faster, as though trying to match the rhythm of the engine. He told himself it was just the adrenaline of the ride, but he knew that wasn’t true.

The streets opened wider, leading them toward the outskirts of Kyoto. Mountains loomed in the distance, soft and hazy like brushstrokes against the pale sky. Rows of cherry blossom trees lined the riverside, their petals dancing into the air with every gust, floating across the road in pink flurries. The sunlight dappled through the branches, breaking into patches of gold across Taehyung’s hands where they clung lightly around Jungkook.

“Look, Jungkook-ssi,” Taehyung tilted his head, pointing at a group of children chasing after drifting petals. His laughter bubbled again, boyish and unburdened. “Doesn’t it look like the world is celebrating with us?”

Jungkook didn’t reply. He couldn’t. His throat felt dry, his chest strangely heavy and light at once. He risked a glance at the rearview mirror, and there Taehyung was eyes wide with wonder, lips parted in awe, cheeks flushed with the rush of the wind. He looked like the kind of person who was born to belong to the open sky.

And Jungkook realized, with a pang so absurd it almost scared him, that he could ride forever if Taehyung just kept holding on like this.

The road curved, opening up to a long stretch where the cherry blossoms arched over like a pink tunnel, petals fluttering down in gentle flurries. The river shimmered to their left, catching the sunlight like scattered glass. The world felt endless for a moment, just road and sky and wind.

Behind him, Jungkook suddenly felt Taehyung shift.

“what are you—” he started, but his voice caught when he glanced in the side mirror.

Taehyung had let go of Jungkook’s waist. His arms were spread wide, cutting through the air as though he wanted to hug the entire sky. His head was tilted back just enough for the sunlight to kiss his cheeks, his hair whipping wildly in the wind, and he was laughing. That deep, unrestrained laugh that always seemed to bubble up from somewhere pure.

The sound wrapped around Jungkook like music, weaving through the hum of the engine and the rush of the wind. For a fleeting second, it didn’t matter that Taehyung was ridiculous, careless, and far too reckless it didn’t matter that this boy lived in a way Jungkook had always avoided. Because right now, he looked like the freest person alive.

“Taehyung, hold on—” Jungkook began again, but the words fell useless. Because instead of scolding, he found himself smiling actually smiling, wide and genuine his chest loosening as laughter slipped out of him, too. Loud, real, almost startled.

The wind carried both of their laughs into the sky, where it scattered with the petals.

For the first time in so long, Jungkook felt happy. Not the forced kind, not the shallow momentary distraction but real happiness. And it hit him then, almost cruelly, that it wasn’t the bike, or the spring air, or Kyoto that made him feel this way.

It was Taehyung.

The ride didn’t feel long, not with the wind tugging at their hair and Taehyung’s laughter still echoing faintly in Jungkook’s ears. When they finally slowed, the hum of the engine faded into the quiet rustle of leaves, the faint chatter of tourists, and the distant song of a flowing stream.

They had reached Arashiyama.

The bike rolled to a stop near the entrance of the bamboo grove, where the world seemed to shift into something otherworldly. Towering stalks of bamboo stretched high into the sky, so tall that they almost swallowed the light, their green leaves swaying softly in the spring breeze. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, breaking into slanted beams that illuminated the misty air like falling ribbons of gold.

Taehyung hopped off first, his backpack jingling with its collection of dangling keychains, his oversized cardigan slipping slightly off one shoulder as he tilted his head back to stare up. His mouth fell open, his eyes wide and glowing with awe. He looked as though he’d stepped into a dream.

“Wah…” he whispered, almost reverently, then spun around to Jungkook with that wide, sunshine grin. “Isn’t it beautiful, Jungkook-ssi? It feels like we just walked into another world.”

Jungkook swung his leg off the bike, his movements slower, more deliberate. His first instinct was to reply with something dry, to brush it off like he always did but the words never came. Because Taehyung looked so utterly enraptured, so lost in wonder, that Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to ruin it.

Instead, he found himself staring again at the way Taehyung’s hair framed his face, at the way light spilled across his features, soft and golden. He felt that familiar, strange tightness in his chest, and quickly tore his eyes away, focusing instead on the swaying bamboo.

Taehyung, oblivious, was already pulling out his Polaroid camera. He snapped one photo of the path ahead, then another of the towering stalks above. Then, without warning, he turned the lens toward Jungkook.

“don’t—” Jungkook raised a hand too late. The shutter clicked, and Taehyung laughed, holding the camera close as the picture slowly developed.

“You always look so serious,” Taehyung teased, showing him the faint outline beginning to appear on the film. “It’ll be a good memory. See? Proof that the great Jeon Jungkook came to Kyoto’s bamboo forest.”

Jungkook shook his head, sighing, but the corner of his mouth twitched. He pretended it was annoyance, but he knew better. His heart was still racing from the bike ride, from Taehyung’s laughter, from this inexplicable pull he couldn’t seem to resist.

And as they stepped into the grove, side by side, Jungkook wondered not for the first time why it felt like the world became softer whenever Taehyung was in it.

The path into the grove narrowed, flanked by walls of bamboo that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the sky. The air was cool and damp, filled with the soft sound of leaves whispering above. Groups of tourists trailed along the same winding path, some speaking in low voices, others lifting phones to catch the filtered light. But even among the crowd, Taehyung moved as though the place belonged entirely to him.

“Excuse me!” he said brightly in English to a couple struggling to take a selfie. Before Jungkook could stop him, Taehyung had already bounded forward, cardigan sleeves flapping, and offered to take the photo for them. The tourists laughed and handed him their phone, and Taehyung crouched, adjusted the angle with comical seriousness, then stood on his toes to frame the bamboo towering above. He handed it back with a grin and a polite bow.

“Arigatou gozaimasu!” the couple said, delighted.

“De nada!” Taehyung replied without thinking, then burst into laughter at himself. The couple laughed too, and Jungkook despite himself felt his lips twitch.

Taehyung skipped back over, holding up his Polaroid camera. “I should’ve taken one for us, too. This light it’s perfect. Look how it falls through the bamboo. Like threads of silk.”

Jungkook muttered something about how he didn’t care for pictures, but Taehyung was already snapping away. One photo of the path, one of the sky, one of his own face with the bamboo blurred behind him. And then, without warning, he caught Jungkook again.

“hey” Jungkook said, half exasperated, half embarrassed. “Didn’t I tell you—”

But Taehyung was already blowing gently on the film as it developed, his eyes glowing with mischief. “You look cool, even when you’re annoyed. Don’t worry. I’ll keep it safe.” He tucked the photo carefully into his pocket, patting it as though it were a treasure.

Something in Jungkook’s chest tightened. He hated how warm it made him feel.

They walked deeper into the grove, passing clusters of visitors who hushed each other, struck by the almost cathedral-like atmosphere of the place. Taehyung, however, couldn’t stay quiet. He talked about how the bamboo swayed like it was breathing, about how he’d once read that bamboo represented resilience, about how it would be fun to get lost here on purpose.

Jungkook let him talk, answering only when necessary, but his silence was not annoyance not really. He was listening. He always listened. And the more he listened, the more he realized that Taehyung’s joy had a way of weaving itself into the landscape, turning even the quiet forest into something alive and bright.

When a small group of children ran past them, giggling, Taehyung laughed too, waving at them. One little girl stopped, pointed shyly at his Polaroid, and asked in halting Japanese if he could take her picture.

Taehyung’s face lit up. He crouched down to her level, asked her name, and snapped a photo, carefully handing it over as it developed. The girl squealed with delight and ran back to her parents, clutching the picture like a treasure.

Jungkook had stood a little apart, arms crossed, pretending to be unaffected. But when Taehyung looked back at him, smiling that wide, unguarded smile, Jungkook felt his heart stumble over itself.

He looked away quickly, but it was too late. He knew it. He was falling deeper, faster, and more helplessly than he’d ever wanted to.

By the time they stepped out of the bamboo grove, the air had shifted warmer, touched by the scent of river water and budding spring flowers. The wide Katsura River lay ahead, glimmering softly beneath the gray sky. Willow trees leaned over its banks, their young leaves brushing the surface like paint strokes. A few wooden boats bobbed lazily near the dock, ferrymen standing at the ready with long poles.

Taehyung gasped as though he’d stumbled upon a hidden treasure. “Look at it, Jungkook-ssi! Doesn’t it look like something out of a painting?” His voice carried, bright and unashamed, drawing a few curious glances from other tourists.

Jungkook followed his gaze. The water was calm, reflecting both the sky and the slopes of Arashiyama beyond, where cherry blossoms were beginning to open in delicate clouds of pink. It was beautiful, he admitted silently. But out loud, he said flatly, “It’s just a river.”

Taehyung turned to him, scandalized. “Just a river? Yah, do you even have eyes? Look at how the mountains melt into the water. Look at the way the boats sway, like they’re humming. This this is what poets spend their whole lives trying to capture.”

“Then maybe you should write a poem,” Jungkook muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Not a poem. A memory,” Taehyung countered, his eyes glinting. Then, without hesitation, he grabbed Jungkook’s wrist and tugged him toward the dock. “Come on. We’re getting on one of those boats.”

Jungkook dug his heels in. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes,” Taehyung said cheerfully, ignoring him. “Do you know how romantic it is to ride a boat in Kyoto? I read about it once. Couples do it all the time.”

At that, Jungkook stiffened. His pulse kicked unexpectedly, and he found himself staring at the back of Taehyung’s head, at the loose strands of shoulder-length hair brushing against his cardigan. Romantic. The word clung to him, impossible to shake off.

“I’m not interested,” he said finally.

“But I am!” Taehyung turned, grinning, his hand still curled loosely around Jungkook’s wrist. His eyes curved like crescents, impossibly warm. “Please, Jungkook-ssi? Just once. You can pretend you hate it. I won’t tell anyone.”

Jungkook exhaled slowly, but he didn’t pull his hand away. For some reason, he couldn’t. And before he realized it, they were stepping into a narrow wooden boat, the ferryman steadying it with practiced ease.

The boat rocked gently as they sat opposite each other. The river was smooth, carrying them forward as if time itself had slowed.

Taehyung leaned over the side, trailing his fingers in the water, giggling when droplets splashed onto his sleeve. “It’s cold! But it feels alive. Like the river is breathing.”

Jungkook found himself watching again his hair falling forward, his laughter rising into the gray air, his cardigan damp at the cuff. It was ridiculous. Infuriating. Beautiful.

And for a moment, Jungkook’s chest ached with something he couldn’t name.

" it's such a good date idea for couples” Taehyung announced, pointing at the row of wooden boats waiting on the glimmering river. His voice was bright as if he had just revealed some sacred truth.

Jungkook shot him a sharp look. “We are not a couple.”

Taehyung didn’t miss a beat. He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, eyes sparkling. “But you can just think we are for the boat ride. I won’t mind being your boyfieeeee.” He stretched the word, playful and sing-song, earning a few amused glances from the nearby tourists.

Jungkook froze. His ears turned pink before he could stop it. “You—what—”

“You’re rich, you’re good-looking, and…” Taehyung tilted his head, studying him with a mischievous smile, “you’re actually very gentle, though you try so hard to look mean.”

“Stop talking nonsense,” Jungkook muttered, looking away, his pulse hammering louder than he liked.

But Taehyung only laughed, full and unrestrained, and before Jungkook knew it, there was an arm looping through his. Taehyung tugged, leaning his weight into it, his cheek nearly brushing Jungkook’s shoulder as he pulled him insistently toward the dock.

“hey” Jungkook tried to protest, but the warmth of Taehyung’s arm against his own made him strangely, dangerously quiet. And that was how they ended up stepping into a boat, the ferryman smiling knowingly as if he’d seen this scene play out a hundred times.

The boat rocked gently as it drifted from the shore. Taehyung sat cross-legged opposite Jungkook, his polaroid camera slung around his neck, hair lifting with the light breeze. He leaned forward, eyes wide as he dipped his hand in the river. Droplets sparkled like diamonds against his skin before falling back with a soft splash.

“It feels alive,” he said softly, voice hushed now, touched with wonder. “Like the river has secrets it’s whispering if you just listen.”

Jungkook found himself listening, not to the river, but to Taehyung. The way his lips curved as he smiled, the way the sunlight caught on the bridge of his nose, the soft sway of his long hair brushing against his cheekbones.

“Why do you always… say things like that?” Jungkook asked suddenly, though his voice came out lower than he intended.

Taehyung looked up, blinking. “Like what?”

“Like… the river is breathing, or that destiny is real.” Jungkook’s gaze darted to the water, anywhere but at Taehyung. “It’s childish.”

Taehyung smiled again, slower this time, almost wistful. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s the only way to really live.” His eyes held Jungkook’s a second too long, and Jungkook felt something tight coil in his chest.

The air shifted then subtle at first. The sunlight softened, dimmed by clouds gathering above. The river rippled under the sudden push of wind, cool and brisk, fluttering Taehyung’s hair into his eyes. He laughed, pushing it away with his hand.

“Feels like rain,” the ferryman remarked in Japanese, planting his pole deeper into the water.

Taehyung’s grin only widened. “Imagine how beautiful it’ll be when it rains here, Jungkook-ssi. The sky gray, the blossoms falling like snow.”

Jungkook swallowed. His eyes stayed on Taehyung on the way his cardigan fluttered in the wind, the way his lips were slightly parted as if he was breathing the world in. He couldn’t bring himself to look away.

The boat drifted, and though nothing had changed, Jungkook’s heart beat as if the whole world had tilted.

The ride to the Sagano Scenic Railway station began with the sky dimming, clouds thickening over Arashiyama like someone had brushed gray ink across a once-clear canvas. Jungkook sat stiff behind the handlebars of the motorbike, his jaw tense, while Taehyung behind him had his arms stretched wide, humming a tune as if he could balance the world in his palms.

And then, without warning, the first raindrop splashed cool against Jungkook’s cheek. Another followed. Then dozens.

“Shit—” Jungkook muttered, pulling the bike quickly to the side of the road under the narrow awning of a closed teahouse. He killed the engine, shaking his head. “We’ll wait it out.”

But Taehyung was already gone.

He darted into the middle of the empty street, his cardigan clinging instantly as the rain fell harder. His hair plastered to his temples, droplets running down his jaw. The petals of cherry blossoms above them trembled in the sudden downpour, falling in slow, delicate spirals until they mixed with the water streaming along the street.

The world was utterly deserted just an empty street in Kyoto, rain-slicked stone shining under the gray sky, trees bending with the breeze. It was surreal, dreamlike, like they had stepped out of reality and into a painting.

“Taehyung! Come back, you’ll get sick!” Jungkook shouted from the shelter, his voice sharp, but his chest already tight in that familiar way.

Taehyung only spun once, arms flung wide, laughing as though the rain was the greatest blessing he’d ever received. His laughter carried through the street, soft and unrestrained, bouncing off the silence of the old houses and shuttered shops.

Something in Jungkook broke then broke and bloomed. Watching him, there in the middle of the storm, he realized the absurdity he’d been holding onto all this time: life wasn’t ugly, it wasn’t pointless. Not when Taehyung could make a downpour look like art. Not when one boy’s laughter could turn an empty street into the most beautiful place in the world.

Before he could stop himself, Jungkook stepped out. The rain hit him like needles, cold and immediate, but he didn’t care. He didn’t even notice the dampness sinking into his shirt, the way his hair stuck to his forehead. All he saw was Taehyung.

Taehyung’s face lit up the moment their eyes met. He grabbed Jungkook’s hand without hesitation and pulled him closer, water running between their interlocked fingers.

“Let’s dance!” Taehyung declared dramatically, bowing with exaggerated flourish before tugging Jungkook into a mock waltz.

Jungkook almost laughed it was ridiculous, standing in the middle of a rain-soaked Kyoto street, pretending to ballroom dance. But Taehyung was giggling, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes glowing with mischief, and suddenly, Jungkook found himself moving along, following the rhythm Taehyung imagined for them.

He spun Taehyung clumsily, catching him by the waist when he nearly slipped. Taehyung tipped his head back and laughed so loudly Jungkook felt it echo in his chest. His own lips tugged upward, almost against his will, into a real smile.

And then, without thinking, Jungkook lifted him his hands firm around Taehyung’s waist and spun him in the rain. Taehyung squealed, half-laughing, half-scolding, “We’ll fall, Jungkook-ssi! Put me down!”

But his laughter was so bright, so alive, that Jungkook only spun once more before lowering him, careful and steady.

The rain poured, blossoms drifted, and for that fleeting moment, Jungkook thought he understood. Life was beautiful. Or maybe Taehyung made it beautiful.

They finally slowed, both of them breathless, laughter spilling into the patter of rain around them. Taehyung’s chest rose and fell quickly, droplets of water clinging to his lashes, his lips parted with the remnants of a giggle. He looked like a painting brought to life, framed by gray skies and a shower of cherry blossoms.

Jungkook stood in front of him, drenched to the bone, his shirt heavy, clinging to the lines of his body. But he barely felt it. His eyes were locked on Taehyung.

For the first time, Jungkook noticed the shape of his mouth the curve of his lower lip, glistening from the rain. The thought hit him suddenly, recklessly: what would it feel like to kiss him?

The idea startled him, yet refused to leave. His gaze lingered, traitorous, tracing every feature as if he was memorizing him in the rain.

Taehyung, oblivious to the turmoil, tilted his head back, closing his eyes as raindrops fell against his skin. He smiled, pure and unguarded, the kind of smile that made even the storm seem like a gift.

Without realizing it, Jungkook reached up, brushing wet strands of hair away from Taehyung’s face. His fingers grazed the soft skin of his temple, slow, tender too intimate for something so casual.

Taehyung blinked at him, surprised by the gesture. Their eyes met, and the air thickened, heavy with everything Jungkook wanted to say but couldn’t.

His throat tightened before the words slipped out anyway, raw and quiet, almost drowned by the rain.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jungkook whispered.

Taehyung’s lips parted slightly, his brows furrowing, as if he hadn’t expected those words hadn’t expected them from him.

But then he laughed again, softer this time, gentle and full of warmth. “You’re just saying that because I made you dance in the rain.”

Jungkook didn’t answer. He only looked at him looked at him like he couldn’t look away.

And Taehyung, happy and drenched and shining like a boy made of sunlight even under gray skies, only grinned, tugging Jungkook’s hand again to pull him back into another silly spin in the middle of the empty street.

Jungkook let him. Because maybe just maybe he didn’t want to resist anymore.

The station was quieter than usual, a weekday lull. The red and gold train waited on the tracks, gleaming against the misty backdrop of the mountains. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the smell of wet earth and blooming sakura lingering in the air. A few other tourists huddled with umbrellas, whispering about the beauty of the scenery, but to Jungkook, the real beauty was right beside him, tugging him by the sleeve like a child impatient to board.

“Come on, Jungkook-ssi!” Taehyung grinned, his voice bubbling with excitement. “We’ll miss the train.”

Jungkook raised a brow. “We won’t. There’s still” he glanced at the clock, “five minutes.”

“That’s five minutes we could be on the train already,” Taehyung argued, dragging him closer, his fingers warm even through the damp fabric.

Jungkook let himself be pulled along. It was ridiculous, the way Taehyung’s energy seemed to fill every hollow in his chest, the way it softened the edges of his thoughts. He hated admitting even to himself that he didn’t want this to end.

As they stepped onto the platform, Jungkook caught Taehyung turning his head, raindrops glistening on his lashes, his mouth curved in that same careless, sunshine smile. And just like that, his heart gave another painful lurch.

Why does it feel this way ? What is this feeling? I don't remember feeling this way every with Lily. Jungkook thought, as the train’s whistle blew, calling them into a journey neither of them knew would change them both.

The train gave a low whistle as it pulled away from the station, its windows framing the emerald slopes of Arashiyama. The river snaked alongside, swollen from the rain, reflecting the cherry blossoms that still clung stubbornly to the branches. Mist rolled off the mountains, curling like pale silk, and the soft rhythm of the wheels against the tracks filled the quiet space between them.

Jungkook sat by the window, his damp shirt clinging to his shoulders, arms folded loosely as he stared out. But his gaze kept flicking not at the scenery, not at the river, but at the boy across from him. Taehyung, still giggly from their rain-soaked adventure, had his chin propped on his palm, eyes wide as he tried to capture the view with his little polaroid camera. He kept sighing dreamily at every bend in the track, every bloom of color outside.

“Tell me more about yourself,” Jungkook said suddenly.

Taehyung blinked, lowering the camera. “Me?” He pointed at himself like the idea was absurd. “Why?”

“Because,” Jungkook leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter, deeper, “I’ve realized I don’t know much. Other than the fact that you’re loud, annoying, and a menace to peaceful mornings.”

Taehyung pouted, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “You’re suddenly curious?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook’s lips curved in the faintest smirk. “Maybe you’re right… life’s too short to waste regretting. Might as well… know the people who make it brighter.”

Taehyung’s cheeks turned pinker. He laughed, nervous and flustered, tucking a strand of his damp hair behind his ear. “What’s gotten into you, Jungkook-ssi? You sound like you’re flirting.”

“Am I?” Jungkook asked, his tone unreadable but his eyes fixed on Taehyung like he was studying him.

Taehyung swallowed, looking out the window quickly as though the scenery could save him. His heart beat so fast it almost drowned out the sound of the train. Why does he say things like that so casually…

After a few minutes of silence, Jungkook asked, “Do you have someone you like?”

Taehyung turned back to him, surprised by the directness of the question. He hesitated, then smiled, soft and honest. “No. I never really had time for that. I was always… the weird, nerdy kid. The one too busy with books and scribbles and daydreams. People don’t usually… like kids like that.”

Jungkook studied him, his jaw tightening slightly. How could someone like Taehyung who laughed like the world itself bent to his joy ever think he was unlikable?

“But” Taehyung added suddenly, tilting his head, “I like you though, Jungkook-ssi. You’re a good man.”

The words were said simply, with no hesitation, no mask. Just truth.

Something shifted in Jungkook’s chest. The heaviness that had been his constant companion loosened, just a little. He looked away quickly, pretending to study the mountains through the glass, but his lips betrayed him, curving into the smallest, most genuine smile he’d had in months.

Why does it feel so good to hear that from him?

The train rattled on, carrying them deeper into the mountains, but Jungkook knew he was already far gone, carried somewhere Taehyung’s words had taken him.

“Someday,” Taehyung said as the train slowed along the last curve of the Sagano line, his voice half-dreamy, half-playful, “if I come visit you in New York… will you make me your secretary?”

Jungkook shot him a look, straight, blunt. “No.”

Taehyung gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “So cold! You didn’t even think about it!”

But Jungkook did think. Even as he said no, his mind filled with the truth of it: there would be no secretary, no little desk banter, no afternoons like this. One day soon, he would go back to New York. Taehyung would return to Seoul. And that would be it they’d go back to being strangers. Just two people who had shared fleeting moments in Kyoto.

The thought ached in Jungkook’s chest. A sharp, twisting ache he wasn’t ready to face. He turned his gaze away from Taehyung’s wide grin, but it was no use the boy’s face lingered like sunlight even when Jungkook closed his eyes.

By evening, the bike ride back felt quieter. The streets were slick with rain, lamps glimmering gold across puddles. Taehyung hummed behind him, his cheek almost brushing Jungkook’s shoulder, and for a moment Jungkook thought he’d never forget this sound.

At the shop, they returned the bike, bowing politely. Then, laughing quietly, they walked back to their little hotel, shoes squeaking against the cobbles.

Inside, their room was warm and faintly smelling of tatami mats. While Jungkook showered, Taehyung sprawled across the futon, diary open. He carefully drew a neat line through words that had once looked impossible:

Play in the rain 🌧️

Ride a bike through the mountains 🚲

Dive into cold water 🌊

He grinned at the page, hugging it to his chest before quickly scribbling a new one:

See the stars in Kyoto 🌌

When Jungkook came out, towel around his neck, he caught Taehyung shutting the diary fast. His brow quirked, curiosity rising, but he said nothing. Some things were meant to be kept safe.

“Let’s go stargazing,” Taehyung said suddenly, eyes bright.

Jungkook arched an eyebrow. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.” Taehyung was already scrambling up, grinning. “Come on, rich New Yorker, live a little.”

Later that night, they wandered the busy food stalls of Kyoto, shoulders brushing as they tried everything takoyaki that burned Taehyung’s tongue (“Hot! Hot! Jungkook, blow on it!”), yakitori sticks Jungkook bought and pretended he wouldn’t share, and sweet taiyaki that Taehyung tried to steal in a single bite, leaving powdered sugar on his lips.

They darted through little alleys, nearly knocking into lanterns, Jungkook grabbing Taehyung’s wrist to keep him from colliding with a delivery man on a bicycle. Taehyung only laughed, breathless, eyes sparkling under the lantern light.

Eventually, the streets thinned, the night air cooler, quieter. They found a small park bench under a stretch of open sky, the stars pricking sharp above them. They sat back-to-back, their shoulders firm and warm, steadying each other as though the earth beneath them could tilt.

Taehyung tilted his head up, eyes tracing the constellations. His voice, when it came, was softer, more thoughtful. “You know… when I look at the stars, I always feel… tiny. But not in a sad way. More like… if the universe is this big, then all my little worries they’re small too. And maybe… maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

Jungkook’s lips curved, eyes half-closed as he listened. Warmth spread in his chest, filling spaces that had been cold for too long. He let himself lean back a little more, against Taehyung’s spine, letting the boy’s warmth steady him.

“Maybe,” Jungkook murmured, voice low, “the stars don’t just make us feel small. Maybe they remind us to notice the things right in front of us, before they disappear.”

Taehyung turned his head slightly, smiling at the words though Jungkook couldn’t see. “That’s beautiful, Jungkook-ssi.”

For the first time in a long while, Jungkook didn’t feel like correcting him, didn’t feel like retreating. He just closed his eyes, let the night linger, and thought: this warmth… I don’t ever want it to end.

The room was still, dimly lit by the muted glow of the city lights leaking through the thin paper windows. Taehyung had fallen asleep curled in his comforter , his soft hair spilling across the pillow like strands of dark silk, his lips parted just slightly as he breathed evenly. Jungkook lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his chest tight in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

He reached for his phone almost without thinking. The screen’s glow cast a faint light over his face as he opened Namjoon’s chat. His thumbs hovered for a moment before he started typing.

I don’t know what’s happening to me, hyung. Taehyung doesn’t seem ridiculous anymore. Or absurd. Or annoying. He’s still loud, still childish, but somehow… I don’t mind it. He feels like fresh air after a long time.

He hesitated, then added:

I think I’m… starting to feel okay. For the first time in a long time.

Namjoon’s reply came quickly, even at the late hour:

I’m glad you’re happy, Jungkook. Maybe that kid was sent to you for a reasonto change the way you see life. To remind you it’s still worth living. In a way… he saved you.

Jungkook read the words twice, then lowered the phone to his chest. His gaze drifted to Taehyung again, the boy who had laughed in the rain, dragged him onto a boat, filled his silences with chatter, and pulled him without even knowing it back toward the surface.

A quiet breath left him. He really saved me. The thought was soft but it burned through him like sunlight cutting through cloud. If he hadn’t been here, I would’ve drowned in my depression. In my failure.

He reached over, dimmed the phone screen, and let his eyes close, the weight in his chest no longer as heavy as before.

Outside, Kyoto’s night was cool and alive. Inside, the two of them slept in their separate beds, but the space between them no longer felt so far apart.

Chapter Text

Taehyung’s days in Kyoto were finally ending. Soon, he would have to pack his bag, fold away these stolen moments, and return to Seoul. This city the soft sunny blue skies, the cherry blossoms trembling in the breeze, the rain on cobblestones would become a distant memory. And so would he and Jungkook, walking side by side like two stray threads briefly woven together.

Jungkook was so much better than the man Taehyung had first met. When they’d crossed paths, Jungkook had been quiet, hollow-eyed, sealed inside his own silence. Now he laughed hesitant at first, then freely, like a door slowly opening to light. Taehyung had been the one to see it up close, to be near enough to notice the way his eyes softened when he smiled.

All his life, Taehyung had never let himself grow attached. He knew how fragile everything was, how easily people disappeared. His life was not guaranteed his heart had reminded him of that enough times. He was always prepared for the abrupt end, ready to vanish without warning. Attachment was a luxury he didn’t believe he had the right to.

But something had shifted. Deep inside him, a sound kept echoing: I don’t want to go back to being strangers. Jungkook had been the first person he’d done everything with the first friend he’d ever truly let in. Yes, Jungkook was older, but at heart he was just as lost, just as young, and Taehyung could see it. Jungkook had been too closeted in duty to notice what life really was, and Taehyung, without meaning to, had begun to show him.

Now, whenever Taehyung looked at Jungkook really looked he realized how beautiful the man was. Not just in the shape of his face or the line of his shoulders, but in the quiet way he was beginning to open. Taehyung had been aware of his own changes for a while now. He just didn’t know what to do with them.

Taehyung sat near Jungkook, watching the man’s face as he slept. His heart beat so loudly it almost hurt, but he couldn’t let Jungkook get even the faintest hint of what he was beginning to feel. Romantic feelings… No, that was impossible. He couldn’t afford it. His life wasn’t guaranteed, not with his fragile heart, and besides it wasn’t real. He tried to reason with himself. You meet someone on a trip, you laugh, you make memories. That’s all it is. That’s all it should be.

But as he sat there, he couldn’t deny the warmth growing in his chest every time he looked at him.

Jungkook was sleeping soundly, his features softened in the early morning glow. His lashes cast faint shadows across his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The sharpness he wore while awake the guarded posture, the careful control was gone. He looked younger like this, gentler, almost vulnerable.

Unable to bear the weight of his thoughts, Taehyung stood up quietly and padded to the terrace. He sank down against the low wall, the morning sunlight spilling over him. His plain white shirt slipped loosely off one shoulder, delicate necklaces catching the light at his throat. His medium-length brown hair fluttered in the soft spring breeze as though the wind itself couldn’t resist touching him.

He opened his diary, fingers trembling slightly, and began to write.

Dear Diary,

How many more years? Months? Weeks? Or days do I have? Life is unpredictable. Just fifteen days ago, I was a lonely boy with nothing but a dream to see Kyoto in spring before I die. But now, there’s this selfish thought pounding in my chest: I don’t want to die. I used to always be ready, but now… now I’m not.

Maybe just maybe if I could, I’d like to live like this forever. Jungkook-ssi feels like my person. I might not be his, but he is mine, in some way. I’ve never felt this before. Not once. Mom and Dad chose themselves over me. I was always alone. No friends. No one to belong to. But in these fifteen days, life gave me Jungkook-ssi. He didn’t treat me like a burden. He could’ve walked away, been rude, dismissed me but instead, he stayed. He tagged along. He was there. And now… I’m afraid. I’m afraid of going back to being strangers.

A lone tear slipped down his cheek as he stopped writing, his eyes drifting to the pale sky. His chest felt heavy with too many thoughts, too many unspoken wishes.

Behind him, Jungkook stirred. He woke to the soft brush of sunlight and the cool breeze sneaking into the room. With a yawn, he sat up, stretching before scanning the terrace. For reasons he couldn’t quite name, he felt lighter this morning. Happier. He stood and walked out, his hair tousled from sleep.

Taehyung quickly closed his diary and wiped at his face. By the time Jungkook stepped onto the terrace, he was smiling bright, sunshiney, as if nothing had weighed him down at all.

“Good morning, Jungkook-ssi,” Taehyung said softly.

“Good morning, Tae,” Jungkook replied, his voice low and warm, still rough with sleep.

Jungkook leaned casually against the railing, his gaze on the horizon. “What are you doing out here?”

“Nothing. The weather’s nice, so I came to enjoy it,” Taehyung answered lightly, slipping his diary into his bag as he got to his feet.

Jungkook hummed in response, watching the morning city stretch below them. “Do you have any plans for today?”

“Mmm… nothing really,” Taehyung said, tilting his head. “Do you?”

Jungkook hesitated before saying, “Uh, well… we could go out. Maybe… have a nice dinner?”

It slipped out casually, but the second the words left his mouth, heat crept up his neck. He hadn’t meant to phrase it like that.

Taehyung froze for a heartbeat before a cheeky grin spread across his face. “Is that a dinner date, Jungkook-ssi?”

Jungkook’s ears went red instantly. “What? No! I just meant can’t friends go out for dinner?”

“Of course they can.” Taehyung nodded innocently, lips twitching.

“Then why—” Jungkook frowned, flustered, but before he could finish, Taehyung’s grin widened.

“Well,” he drawled, “I wouldn’t say no if you did ask me on a date.”

Jungkook rubbed a hand over his face, groaning. “Stop. You’re so annoying.”

Taehyung only laughed, the sound bright against the morning air. And though Jungkook muttered under his breath, his chest gave that now-familiar ache the kind that felt dangerously close to fondness.

After breakfast, neither of them seemed too eager to leave the hotel. The morning sunlight spilled through the balcony doors, soft and golden, and Taehyung sprawled on the bed like a cat, humming faint little tunes while flipping through his diary. Jungkook, meanwhile, sat by the desk with his laptop open, typing half-heartedly at a few emails he had promised himself he would check.

“Do you ever stop working?” Taehyung’s voice floated from the bed, muffled by the pillow he was hugging.

Jungkook didn’t look up. “Do you ever stop talking?”

Taehyung chuckled, rolling onto his back so his hair fanned across the sheets. “Nope.” He tilted his head, eyes crinkling. “You’d miss me if I did.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue, but for some reason, the idea of silence without Taehyung’s constant chatter left a strange hollowness in his chest. He quickly buried that thought, pretending to focus on his screen.

By noon, Taehyung had grown restless. He wandered to the minibar, pulled out every packet of snacks, and laid them in a line like he was curating an exhibit. “Okay, Jungkook-ssi, serious question. Which is superior: chocolate Pocky or strawberry Pocky?”

Jungkook gave him a flat look. “They taste the same.”

“Blasphemy,” Taehyung gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “One is art. The other is… art in disguise. Choose wisely.”

Jungkook shook his head, though he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Chocolate.”

Taehyung groaned. “You’re boring even in your snack choices.”

Eventually, Taehyung dragged Jungkook into watching a movie on the hotel TV. Something light, silly, with too many jokes. Jungkook sat stiffly at first, arms crossed, but Taehyung kept tossing popcorn at him until he relaxed, his laughter slipping out in small bursts. When Jungkook did laugh loud and unrestrained Taehyung found himself staring at him instead of the screen, warmth blossoming in his chest.

Later in the afternoon, Taehyung convinced him to play cards. Jungkook claimed he didn’t know how, but after losing twice in a row, he won one round and smirked so smugly Taehyung threw a cushion at him. Soon the bed was a battlefield of pillows, laughter filling the room until both of them collapsed breathless on the sheets, chests heaving.

For a while, they lay there in the quiet, side by side. The hum of the city outside was faint, the light through the curtains mellowing into late afternoon gold. Taehyung turned his head, his cheek squished against the pillow, and whispered, “You look happier when you laugh. You should do it more often.”

Jungkook felt the words sink into him like a stone into water, rippling outward. He didn’t answer, only turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, feeling something he couldn’t name press against his chest.

When the silence stretched too long, Taehyung propped himself up on one elbow, hair falling into his eyes. “Sooo… what should we do for dinner?”

Jungkook blinked, caught off guard, and the memory of his earlier words came rushing back: we could go for a nice dinner. He cleared his throat, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze. “We’ll… figure it out.”

Taehyung smirked knowingly, rolling off the bed. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“Stop saying that,” Jungkook muttered, his ears burning, but Taehyung only laughed, darting into the bathroom to shower.

And for the rest of the afternoon, as Jungkook scrolled aimlessly on his phone, he couldn’t shake the image of Taehyung’s smile the kind that made even this hotel room, plain and ordinary, feel like the warmest place in the world.

The room was quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustle of fabric. Taehyung stood by the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt. It wasn’t the oversized, playful clothes he usually wore the ones that made him look like a mischievous boy who belonged to the spring wind. Tonight, he had chosen something else entirely.

A soft cream silk shirt draped over his frame, the fabric catching the light like liquid moonlight. The top few buttons were left undone, revealing the delicate chain of his necklace resting against his collarbone. His trousers were fitted, elegant yet simple, and his brown hair fell perfectly, framing his face with an effortless softness. In that moment, Taehyung didn’t look like the comical, chatty kid who had dragged Jungkook around Kyoto. He looked otherworldly, ethereal like a painting that had come alive.

When the bathroom door opened with a click, Jungkook walked out toweling his damp hair, a casual shirt and blazer thrown over him. He had been prepared to meet the same playful Taehyung he always knew. But then his eyes fell on the boy by the mirror.

He froze.

For a moment, Jungkook forgot how to breathe. Taehyung’s reflection met his in the mirror, and it was almost unfair how breathtaking he looked. Not loud, not dramatic. Just quiet beauty, the kind that seeped under Jungkook’s skin and made something heavy stir in his chest.

“You…” Jungkook’s voice faltered, his towel slipping slightly from his hand. “You look… different.”

Taehyung turned fully toward him, lips curling into that familiar cheeky smile, though there was a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Different bad? Or different good?”

Jungkook swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Good,” he admitted before he could stop himself. “Really good.”

Taehyung tilted his head, his necklaces catching the dim light, and for a second, his eyes softened in a way that made Jungkook’s heart stutter. “Careful, Jungkook-ssi,” he teased lightly, “say things like that and I might believe you’re actually taking me on a date.”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, his ears burning red. He wanted to say maybe I am but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he muttered, “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Taehyung only chuckled, slipping his diary into his bag and brushing past him toward the door, leaving behind a faint trace of his cologne something floral, light, and utterly Taehyung.

And Jungkook stood there for a moment longer, his chest tight, wondering when exactly this boy had stopped being just a stranger and started becoming something far more dangerous to his heart.

Jungkook stood at the door of their hotel room, tugging on his blazer as he said, “I’ll be back in a while. There’s something I need to take care of.”

Taehyung, sprawled lazily on the bed with his diary open and his pen tucked behind his ear, only nodded. “Don’t get lost,” he teased half-heartedly, though his curiosity lingered in the way his eyes followed Jungkook until the door clicked shut.

When he was alone, Taehyung gathered the scattered pages of his journal, smoothing them out on the blanket. He carefully slipped Polaroid photos into the little pockets snapshots of cherry blossoms, the two of them grinning awkwardly in front of temples, Jungkook caught mid-laugh when Taehyung had surprised him with ice cream. He lingered on that one the longest, his thumb brushing over Jungkook’s smile. His chest tightened, that soundless echo returning in his heart: I don’t want to go back to being strangers.

Not long after, Jungkook returned. His voice was steady, though there was a strange glint in his eyes. “Come on. We’re going out.”

Downstairs, parked by the hotel entrance, was a sleek black car glistening under the streetlights. It wasn’t over-the-top flashy—it was elegant, perfectly polished, with leather interiors that smelled faintly of cedar.

Taehyung blinked, wide-eyed, before looking at Jungkook. “You… rented this?”

Jungkook opened the passenger door for him, his jaw tight, as if he was nervous. “Get in.”

Taehyung slid into the seat, his heart hammering against his ribs. This wasn’t just a drive. This wasn’t just another evening. This by every unspoken detail was a date.

“Wow…” Taehyung exhaled dramatically. “Am I supposed to think this is a date, Jungkook-ssi?”

Jungkook’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. For a moment, his silence stretched, and then his voice came low, resigned, but gentle. “Fine. Yes. Call it a date. You’ve helped me more than you know. You deserve it. Just… consider it a one-time thing. A date between two strangers who will never see each other again.”

Taehyung laughed, his head tipping back, but the sound was brittle, fragile. Jungkook smiled faintly, pretending not to feel the same ache gnawing at his chest. They both knew how much that thought hurt.

The restaurant was tucked into the heart of Kyoto, its entrance adorned with golden lanterns swaying softly in the evening breeze. Inside, everything glowed the chandeliers spilling warm light across velvet-draped tables, the soft hum of conversations, the faint aroma of roses and wine.

Taehyung’s eyes widened as he took in the polished setting. “You really brought me to a place like this?”

Jungkook smirked faintly, tugging at his blazer. “Of course. I was a CEO once. I have that much money.”

“Ohh, Mr. CEO,” Taehyung teased, resting his chin on his palm. “I should’ve dressed in a tuxedo.”

“You look fine,” Jungkook muttered, a little too quickly, his eyes flickering over Taehyung’s silk shirt and necklaces.

Their dinner was filled with laughter and teasing Taehyung making faces at the menu, Jungkook pretending to scold him for not knowing which fork to use, both of them dissolving into easy warmth. But under the surface of every smile was the sting of knowing: this night was finite.

As they ate, a man at the far end of the room strummed a guitar softly, filling the space with gentle chords. Jungkook’s eyes lingered, his expression shifting into something faraway.

“You play, don’t you?” Taehyung asked suddenly, picking up on it.

Jungkook startled. “I used to.”

“Then go,” Taehyung urged, clapping his hands together. “Go play!”

“What no.”

“Yes!” Taehyung insisted, his grin devilish. “Come on, Jungkook-ssi. Show me.”

With a heavy sigh but a smile tugging at his lips, Jungkook finally rose, walking toward the musician and bowing politely before taking the guitar. He returned to his seat, sitting across from Taehyung with the instrument balanced against his thigh.

His fingers moved almost instinctively, finding the chords. The room hushed. And then, in a low, warm voice, he began:

 There’s nothing like us,

There’s nothing like you and me,

Together through the storm… 

His gaze lifted, locking with Taehyung’s across the candlelit table. The world blurred—the clinking glasses, the dim chatter, even the flicker of light. It was only the two of them, Jungkook’s eyes shining with a quiet warmth Taehyung had never seen before.

Taehyung sat there, his hand pressed to his cheek, smiling so softly it almost broke his own heart. This will end, he thought. And it will hurt. But in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hold on.

When the last chord faded, silence lingered for a heartbeat before applause rippled through the restaurant. Taehyung clapped the loudest, his voice bright and unashamed as he cheered, “Bravo! Jungkook-ssi, you’re amazing!”

Jungkook ducked his head, embarrassed, but his lips curved into a smile he couldn’t suppress. And in that smile, Taehyung saw everything he wanted but could never keep.

The night air was cool and alive with wonder. Lanterns floated upward in a thousand glowing specks, painting the sky with light golden orbs drifting higher and higher until they became stars of their own. The breeze carried with it the soft hum of music, laughter, and the occasional gasp of awe from the crowd gathered in the open field. Couples held hands, their faces illuminated by the flickering glow of the lanterns they had released together, their whispers lost to the night.

Taehyung stood frozen for a moment, his mouth parting in wonder. Then, with the gleam of a child, he jogged forward, his coat swaying, his laughter bubbling out of him like music. “Jungkook-ssi! Look at this it’s beautiful!” His voice rang out, bright and uncontainable.

Behind him, Jungkook leaned casually against the bonnet of the rented car, arms crossed, watching. Not the lanterns, not the crowd—but him. The way Taehyung’s eyes widened like he was seeing the world for the very first time. The way the golden light caught the soft fall of his brown hair, made his necklaces shimmer faintly against his chest, made him look less like a boy and more like some ethereal creature who had somehow stumbled into his life.

“How did you even know about this?” Taehyung asked breathlessly, spinning around to face him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and excitement.

Jungkook shrugged, pushing off the car with deliberate ease. “I found it online… figured you’d like it.” His voice was gruff, almost too casual for what he really meant: I wanted to give you this moment. I wanted to see you happy like this.

Taehyung’s lips curved into the widest smile yet, his laughter spilling into the night as he turned back toward the sky. He looked like he could float away with the lanterns themselves.

And Jungkook , Jungkook felt something heavy and certain settle inside him.

He had told himself this trip was fleeting. That Taehyung would return to Seoul, that he would return to New York, and they’d part as strangers who shared a temporary sliver of life together. But standing there, under the lantern-filled sky, watching Taehyung’s joy bloom like firelight, Jungkook knew he couldn’t accept that anymore.

His heart thudded harder than it had all night. He would tell him. He would tell Taehyung that he had grown to like him not as a fleeting companion, not as a stranger who happened to share a season in Kyoto, but as someone who had become impossibly precious. He would ask him to stay, or at least, to let them try.

Jungkook’s lips curved faintly as he watched Taehyung twirl beneath the lantern-lit sky, arms outstretched, as if he was trying to hold all the stars at once.

I’m not letting you go back to being a stranger.

The lantern seller handed Taehyung the folded paper lantern with a smile, and he practically bounced on his feet as he pulled Jungkook toward a quiet patch of grass where fewer people stood. Lanterns were already climbing into the sky, dozens of them drifting higher, their golden light painting the night in hues of warmth and dream.

“Come on,” Taehyung said, crouching down as he fumbled with the lantern. His hair fell forward, brushing his cheekbones as he lit the small flame inside. The glow flickered gently, illuminating his face. “We’ll do it together.”

Jungkook crouched beside him, their shoulders pressed close. He wasn’t looking at the lantern at all. He was looking at Taehyung at the way his lashes lowered when he closed his eyes, his lips moving silently with the weight of a wish.

Don’t let us go back to being strangers, Taehyung’s heart pleaded as he held onto the lantern. Let me stay with him, even if just like this… please.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered on his profile, soft yet burning, and his own wish whispered inside him. Say yes tonight, Taehyung. Please say yes.

The flame grew steady, filling the lantern with light until it tugged gently upward. Together, they lifted it with careful hands, releasing it into the night. It rose slowly at first, then caught a breeze and soared high above them, joining the countless others that dotted the dark sky like manmade stars.

Taehyung leaned just slightly against Jungkook’s side, eyes fixed upward, his lips curved in a small, awed smile. Jungkook’s chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, he wrapped an arm around Taehyung’s waist.

The younger froze, breath catching in his throat, warmth rushing up his neck. His heart beat erratically, and though he told himself to move away, he didn’t. He just stood there, trembling faintly under Jungkook’s touch, as the older man’s body radiated warmth beside him.

When Taehyung finally turned to glance up, their eyes caught and for a suspended moment, the night fell away. There was only the golden glow reflecting in Taehyung’s irises, the warmth of Jungkook’s palm at his waist, and the dangerous pull of their breaths mingling.

Jungkook’s gaze dropped, almost unwillingly, to Taehyung’s lips. And Taehyung flustered, panicked, and flushed red broke away first. He stumbled back with a soft laugh that sounded too forced, mumbling something about being cold, and hurried toward the car.

Jungkook exhaled heavily, running a hand down his face before following him.

The drive back was quiet, the kind of quiet that wasn’t empty but heavy, thick with something unspoken. The radio hummed softly in the background, headlights cutting through the narrow Kyoto streets. Taehyung sat angled toward the window, fiddling with his fingers in his lap, his reflection faintly visible in the glass. Jungkook’s knuckles were pale against the steering wheel, his eyes flicking toward him every few seconds, the tension between them stubbornly lingering.

When they finally pulled up to the hotel, Taehyung hurried to open the door. But Jungkook reached across, his hand catching Taehyung’s wrist.

Taehyung froze, heart in his throat. Jungkook leaned in slowly, close enough that Taehyung could feel his breath ghost across his skin. His lashes fluttered, eyes half-closing, expecting wanting something he would never admit.

But Jungkook only brushed his other hand gently through Taehyung’s hair, plucking out a small cherry blossom petal caught there.

“You had something stuck,” he murmured, voice low.

Taehyung blinked rapidly, heat flooding his cheeks. He pulled his wrist free and scrambled out of the car, his chest pounding uncontrollably, and muttered a breathless, “Good night,” before practically fleeing inside.

Jungkook sat back in his seat for a long moment, exhaling shakily, before finally stepping out. He drove the car back to the rental and, on the walk to the hotel, allowed himself to smile. For once, his thoughts weren’t weighed down by failure or regret. They were bright, hopeful. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll ask him. I’ll tell him I want him in my life.

But upstairs, Taehyung sat cross-legged on the bed, his open suitcase in front of him. He had been quietly folding his clothes, slipping his journal inside, arranging the stack of polaroids he and Jungkook had taken. His hands trembled faintly as he zipped the bag shut.

Tomorrow. His flight to Seoul. He hadn’t told Jungkook yet. Somehow, he had let it slip past the laughter, the dinners, the lanterns. And now, staring at the packed suitcase, his heart felt unbearably heavy.

He pressed his hand to his chest, whispering into the dimness of the room.

“I don’t want this to end.”

But he knew. He knew he had no choice.

Taehyung stood by the wardrobe, halfway through changing. His shirt hung loose, unbuttoned and slipping slightly off one shoulder, pale skin glowing under the warm yellow of the lamp. He was humming softly, distracted, when the door opened with a soft click.

Jungkook stepped in.

He froze. For a moment, he could only look. And then, something inside him shifted the air thickened, the room turning warm in an instant. jungkook had long forgotten everything else. Has taehyung already been so tempting or is it because Jungkook had finally accepted that he likes taehyung.

His gaze darkened as it traced the line of Taehyung’s bare collarbones, the delicate necklaces resting against his skin, the way his hair tumbled in soft brown waves around his face.

“You know, Taehyung,” Jungkook’s voice was low, husky, “do you know how a date ends?”

Taehyung stilled, his hand frozen on the hem of his shirt. He blinked at Jungkook, his throat going dry, his heart hammering like it was trying to escape his chest.

“I—what?” he stammered, his voice barely audible.

Jungkook took a step forward. Slow. Certain. Predatory. Each movement narrowed the space between them until Taehyung instinctively stepped back. Another step, another until his back hit the wall.

His breath hitched. Jungkook was so close now, towering over him, his arm lifting just slightly to rest against the wall near his head, effectively caging him in.

“Shouldn’t you thank me for the dinner?” Jungkook murmured, tilting his head, eyes never leaving Taehyung’s lips.

Taehyung gulped hard. His mind was spinning, a thousand thoughts colliding, and yet nothing coherent formed. Only the sound of Jungkook’s voice, the heat radiating off him, the way his pupils had blown wide.

“J-Jungkook-ssi…” he whispered.

But Jungkook didn’t give him time to finish. He closed the distance, pressing his mouth to Taehyung’s in a kiss that was both demanding and devastatingly tender.

Taehyung gasped against his lips, his fingers clutching at Jungkook’s shirt before sliding up, threading into his hair, tugging him closer. Jungkook groaned low at the sensation, one hand slipping around Taehyung’s bare waist, pulling him flush against his body. The heat of his palm against his skin made Taehyung shiver and whine softly into the kiss.

It was hungry, intoxicating Jungkook kissed him like he’d been starving, like Taehyung was the only thing that could fill the void he had been carrying for so long. Taehyung, cheeks flushed red, lips swollen already, let out small, breathless whimpers as Jungkook deepened the kiss, tilting his head to taste him more fully.

Their breaths mingled, ragged, their bodies pressed tight, the world outside ceasing to exist.

Jungkook pulled back for a fraction of a second, just enough to look at him. Taehyung’s face was red, his lips glistening, eyes glassy and dazed. And Jungkook felt something snap inside him control slipping, heart pounding out of rhythm.

He leaned his forehead to Taehyung’s, breathing heavily. “Can I…” His voice broke slightly, heavy with want, with restraint. “…can I go further?”

Taehyung’s chest heaved, his fingers still knotted in Jungkook’s hair. His lashes trembled as his eyes searched Jungkook’s, torn between fear and longing, between reality and the storm inside him.

Taehyung looked at Jungkook, his eyes wide and glossy, lips still swollen from the kiss that had stolen all air from his lungs. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his body trembling under the heat of Jungkook’s touch. He had never done this before never kissed, never been held like this. Everything was new, overwhelming, foreign. And yet… it felt like it had always been meant to happen.

Jungkook’s hand pressed firmly against his bare waist, and it burned searing through his skin until Taehyung thought he might collapse from the sheer intensity of it. His breath hitched, a small, broken sound escaping his throat as Jungkook leaned down again, brushing his lips against Taehyung’s slowly, like a question, like he was giving him every chance to say no. But Taehyung didn’t want to. He couldn’t.

When their mouths met again, it was desperate. Taehyung’s fingers slid up into Jungkook’s hair, pulling, clutching, tugging him impossibly closer. Jungkook groaned softly against his lips, the sound sending shivers down Taehyung’s spine. His back hit the wall again, but then Jungkook lifted him, strong arms steady and sure, carrying him across the room as their kisses deepened, messy and breathless.

The world blurred, only the taste of Jungkook remaining, the warmth of his body pressed against his own. They stumbled to the bed, falling onto it with laughter caught between gasps, mouths finding each other again like gravity itself was pulling them together. Jungkook hovered above him, his dark eyes searching, his thumb brushing Taehyung’s flushed cheek.

“Can I…?” Jungkook’s voice was low, trembling in the quiet room.

Taehyung’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. His lips parted, a shaky breath leaving him as he nodded, voice breaking.

“Yes… Jungkook-ssi.”

And that was all it took.

Jungkook kissed him again, slower this time but deeper, pouring every unspoken feeling into it. Their bodies pressed together, heat rising, hands exploring as though memorizing every curve, every inch of each other. Taehyung’s soft whines filled the silence, each one unraveling Jungkook further until control was a lost cause.

The night became theirs full of whispered names, fevered touches, and hearts beating in sync. Taehyung’s laughter turned into breathless sighs, Jungkook’s restraint melted into pure need, and together they gave in, wholly and without hesitation.

When it was over, they lay tangled in the sheets, skin warm against skin, their breaths slowing but their hearts still racing. Taehyung’s face was buried against Jungkook’s chest, and Jungkook held him as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

It was everything Taehyung had never known he needed.

It was everything Jungkook had never thought he would find.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the night. The lantern glow outside had long faded, leaving only the dim city light seeping in through the curtains. Jungkook lay on his side, one arm loosely draped around Taehyung’s waist, their bodies still warm from everything they had shared.

He brushed back a stray lock of hair from Taehyung’s forehead, his fingers trembling slightly. Taehyung’s lashes rested like feathered shadows against his cheeks, his lips parted in the gentlest of breaths. He looked impossibly young, impossibly delicate like something spun out of dreams that Jungkook wasn’t meant to touch, and yet here he was, holding him.

“Taehyung…” Jungkook whispered into the dark, his voice softer than he intended. He hesitated, his heart pounding as if the words might tear apart the stillness. “I like you. More than I should in this short time. I don’t want this to just… end. I want to see where this can go. With you.”

For a second, he imagined Taehyung opening his eyes, smiling that cheeky smile of his, and saying something teasing but hopeful. But when Jungkook glanced down again, he found Taehyung fast asleep his lips curved into the faintest trace of a smile, his breathing even and steady.

Jungkook let out a small laugh, half exasperated, half fond. “Of course you’d fall asleep before I say it,” he murmured, shaking his head. He leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss to Taehyung’s temple.

“It’s okay. I’ll ask you in the morning,” he promised, a warmth blooming in his chest that he hadn’t felt in years.

Content, he tightened his hold around Taehyung.

What Jungkook didn’t know was how fragile that tomorrow truly was.

Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. Even with Taehyung fast asleep in his arms, he kept tracing little invisible patterns on his bare shoulder, memorizing every curve and dip of him like he might vanish if he looked away.

He leaned in slowly, careful not to wake him. Taehyung’s face was soft and unguarded in sleep, the kind of softness Jungkook had never seen when he was awake and laughing or teasing. He pressed his lips gently to Taehyung’s forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than he should have, letting his eyes close.

“You’re beautiful, Tae,” he whispered against his skin, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

When he pulled back, Taehyung stirred only faintly, his lips parting with a sigh but his eyes still closed, lost in dreams. Jungkook smiled to himself, his chest aching with a strange, tender warmth.

He tucked the blanket a little higher around Taehyung’s shoulders and then settled down beside him again, an arm slipping around his waist as if to guard him through the night. His head rested near Taehyung’s, breathing in the faint scent of soap and spring air lingering in his hair.

With that kiss still tingling on his lips, Jungkook closed his eyes, letting himself fall asleep to the steady rhythm of Taehyung’s breathing peaceful, content, and blissfully unaware of what morning might bring.

Chapter Text

The first thing Jungkook registered was the absence a cold, empty space where a warm body should have been. He stirred, blinking the sleep from his eyes as his hand pattered across the rumpled sheets, searching for a presence that was no longer there. "Taehyung?" he mumbled into the quiet room, his voice thick with sleep, but only silence answered.

Fully opening his eyes, he let his gaze drift to the ceiling, where the early morning light painted soft patterns. Instead of confusion or worry, a profound sense of contentment washed over him, a warm, steady hum of peace and happiness that seemed to emanate from his very core. The memories of the previous night surfaced tender and vivid and a small, hopeful smile touched his lips. Today was the day. He would tell Taehyung everything: that he liked him, that he wanted to properly court him, that he wanted to build something beautiful, if only Taehyung would have him. After the intimacy they had shared, a connection that felt both startlingly new and long-awaited, he felt certain the answer would be yes. The tension that had simmered between them for weeks had finally, beautifully, boiled over. He would reassure Taehyung, would make sure he felt no flicker of regret for what had transpired in the dark.

Buoyed by this resolve, he swung his legs out of bed and padded toward the bathroom. "Tae?" he called softly, pushing the door ajar to find it starkly empty, the only evidence of use being the faint, lingering scent of steam and Taehyung's cologne. A faint crease appeared between his brows. Perhaps on the terrace? He moved to the glass doors, but the small patio with its wrought-iron table was just as deserted, overlooking a city still shaking off the dawn.

Where could he have gone? For coffee, perhaps? To gather his thoughts?

Pulling on a discarded shirt, its fabric still carrying the ghost of their shared night, Jungkook decided to check the hotel's cafe. Maybe Taehyung was just downstairs, waiting for him with two cups of coffee and a smile that held the same promise as the new day.

Jungkook’s heart plummeted, a cold dread seeping into his veins as his eyes scanned the hotel’s cafe and found no sign of Taehyung. The cheerful clatter of porcelain and the rich aroma of coffee felt like a mockery. Taehyung wasn’t the type to wander off alone in a foreign city, not without telling him. Not after last night. A sliver of ice-cold anxiety pricked at the edges of his earlier contentment.

Swallowing hard, he approached the reception desk, his voice tighter than he intended. "Excuse me," he began, "have you seen a young man with medium-length brown hair? He's my friend."

The receptionist offered a polite, professional smile. "A gentleman matching that description did come to the desk this morning. He was here to check out."

The words landed like a physical blow. Check out. The air left Jungkook’s lungs. It couldn't be. A frantic, horrifying thought seized him: had it all been too much? Had the weight of their newfound intimacy, which felt to Jungkook like a beginning, felt to Taehyung like a mistake? Had he run because he was overwhelmed?

He didn't wait for the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time, his pulse thundering in his ears. He burst into their room, his eyes wildly scanning the space that just hours ago had felt like a sanctuary. "Tae?" he called out, desperation clawing at his throat. The silence that answered was deafening.

He yanked open the wardrobe door. Empty. Where Taehyung’s backpack had been nestled in the corner, there was only vacant floor space. His side of the bathroom counter was bare, devoid of his skincare products and that distinct, familiar cologne. It was as if he had never been there at all. The meticulous erasure of his presence was more devastating than any chaotic departure. A choked sob caught in Jungkook's throat. Was it me? Did I misunderstand everything? Was last night not a promise, but a goodbye?

His knees felt weak, the world tilting on its axis. That’s when his frantic gaze dropped, catching on a stark white contrast against the dark wood of the nightstand. An envelope.

And on it, in Taehyung’s elegant script, was a single, formal, heart-wrenching word: Jungkook-ssi.

His hands trembled so violently he nearly tore the paper in two as he ripped it open.

Dearest Jungkook-ssi,

I hope this letter finds you in peace  or at least, in less turmoil than the one inside me as I write these words. My hands tremble, and the ink runs thin, but I need to say what must be said before I lose the strength to do so.

Our time together was… beautiful. It was something I will never forget, no matter how far I go or how many years pass. You brought warmth into days that had long gone cold, laughter into a silence I thought would never end. For that, I will always be grateful. Truly. But sometimes, even the most beautiful moments are meant to end and this is where ours must.

Please understand me when I say this: I am leaving, and I cannot  will not  look back. What we had was fleeting, a spark that was never meant to burn into a flame. If I stay, I fear I’ll begin to confuse comfort for love, habit for devotion, and that would be unfair to both of us. You deserve something whole, and I… I am only fragments trying to look like a person.

So, I am setting you free. Not because I don't like your company , but because I must do this.  Please do not try to find me, or write, or wait. Let this letter be the last trace of me that ever reaches you.

You were kind. You were good to me. But we were never meant to last. Some people come into our lives just to remind us what it feels like to be alive again  before they disappear. And that is what I must do now. Disappear.

Take care of yourself, Jungkook-ssi. Live well, laugh often, love again. Pretend I was just a passing dream, and let me fade like one.

Goodbye.

Taehyung

A lone tear escaped, tracing a hot path down Jungkook’s cheek. He touched the wetness in disbelief. No, no, I’m crying. The realization was a shock to his system. He hadn't cried when his old life had crumbled to dust around him, when betrayal and loss had become his constant companions. Yet here he was, his composure shattered by a man he’d known for barely a month. How could it be? How could someone carve a place so deep in his soul so quickly, making him feel oceans of emotion where there had been only a barren shore?

Can he let Taehyung go? The question echoed, and the answer surged through him with the force of a tidal wave. No. He couldn't.

Jungkook stood up, the letter crumpled in his fist. Taehyung needed to know. He needed to hear that he wasn't a harbinger of despair, but the very source of Jungkook's salvation. He needed to understand that he had already saved him.

Without a second thought, Jungkook ran. He burst out of the hotel and into the morning streets of Kyoto, a singular purpose fueling his every step. He wove through the orderly crowds, past ancient temples and modern shops, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The picturesque beauty of the city was a blur; his world had narrowed to one destination: Kyoto Station. Taehyung couldn't just leave this way. He couldn't let their story end with a letter.

He finally skidded into the vast, echoing station, his chest heaving, his hair a mess. His eyes, wide and frantic, scanned the platforms like a madman, searching for that one familiar silhouette among a thousand strangers. He saw no one.

Desperation clawing at his throat, he grabbed the arm of a station attendant. "The train for Tokyo," he panted, his voice raw. "Has it left?"

The attendant nodded politely. "Yes, sir. The Shinkansen for Tokyo departed about fifteen minutes ago."

The words were a final, crushing blow. All the air left Jungkook's lungs. His shoulders hunched, the fierce energy that had propelled him here dissolving into a profound, bone-deep ache. He was too late. The love of his life was gone, speeding away from him on a track of misguided sacrifice. Defeated, his steps heavy and burdened with a grief too immense to process, he turned and began to walk slowly toward the exit, the world around him muted and grey.

But then, cutting through the station's hum like a lifeline thrown across a chasm, he heard it.

"Jungkook-ssi."

It was his voice. That deep, warm, melodious voice that haunted his dreams. It was Taehyung's voice.

Jungkook turned, and there he was. Taehyung stood a few paces away, his familiar, slightly ridiculous backpack slung over one shoulder, looking as lost and fragile as Jungkook felt. The space between them crackled with a shared, unspoken agony. Both their eyes were blurry with unshed tears, both their hearts asking the same, silent question: How could a person you've known for only a handful of days become the very axis upon which your world spins?

A wave of relief so powerful it made him dizzy washed over Jungkook. He started forward, a smile breaking through his tears. Taehyung hadn't left. He was here. Jungkook could finally close the distance, wrap him in his arms, and whisper all the words he’d been saving in his heart.

But Taehyung took a sharp step back, his hand flying up, palm out in a gesture that screamed stop. The action was a physical blow.

Jungkook froze, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. "Why?" he whispered, the word ragged. "Why did you leave like that, Tae?"

Taehyung attempted a smile, a fragile, broken thing that did nothing to hide the tears streaming down his face. He wiped at them angrily, trying to compose himself into someone who was fine, someone who wasn't falling apart. "Aren't you grateful?" he forced out, his voice trembling. "The annoying chatterbox will be no more. You can have your peace back."

"Stop it," Jungkook said, shaking his head, his own voice thick with emotion. "In the beginning, yes, I thought it was annoying. I thought your noise would drive me mad. But then… then I realized your voice was the only thing that could pull me out of my own head. Your loudness didn't disturb my peace, Tae. It filled my emptiness. Staying with you… it changed everything. You saved me. Your light saved me from drowning in an abyss of my own silence."

His confession seemed to shatter the last of Taehyung’s composure. A wretched, gut-wrenching sob broke from his throat, and he doubled over slightly as if in physical pain. This is why I have to go, the thought screamed in his mind. Because I am a dying star, and I will only leave you in darkness when I burn out. The chronic illness that had been his shadow for years was a ticking clock, and every moment with Jungkook felt like a selfish theft of time from a future they could never have. Being with him made him want to fight fate, to rage against the dying of the light, and that was a hope too cruel to entertain.

"You don't understand," Taehyung choked out, straightening up and hardening his expression, building a wall with the shattered pieces of his heart. "What happened was… it was good. It was a beautiful part of the trip. But that's all it was. A trip. Now we go back to Seoul and New York, and we go back to being strangers. That's how it has to be."

"Strangers?" Jungkook's voice was low, laced with a pain so deep it was almost tangible. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his eyes locked on Taehyung's. "Stop lying. Stop lying to me and to yourself. I can see it in your eyes. I can see the war you're fighting. If you truly wanted to leave, if you truly believed those words, you would be on that train to Tokyo right now. You wouldn't be here, standing in front of me, breaking both our hearts."

He took another step, closing the distance until he could feel the heat of Taehyung's body, could see the frantic pulse at his throat.

"You're still here, Taehyung-ah," Jungkook whispered, his voice breaking. "You stayed. Now tell me why you're really trying to run."

Taehyung stood frozen, a statue of conflict against the backdrop of the bustling station. The loudspeaker announced departures in a detached, robotic tone, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions between them. The air was thick with the smell of diesel and distant food stalls, and hurried passengers created a river of anonymity around their isolated island of tension.

A wretched sob broke from Taehyung's throat, and he wrapped his arms around himself as if to physically hold his breaking heart together. Jungkook’s words were a balm and a poison, healing the immediate hurt while deepening the ultimate agony.

Taehyung shook his head, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. "You think you want this, but you don't. You think you want me, but you don't know... You don't know that being with you has made me selfish.How can you like someone after knowing them only for a while..." His words hitched, the confession terrifying and true.

"Then let me be your reason!" Jungkook pleaded, his own composure crumbling. 

 Taehyung cried out, his voice cracking with the strain. "I am a passing season. I am the fog on a clear day that you should raise a toast to and then let fade. To hold onto me is to hold onto a ghost. My story... it has an ending that I cannot change. And I will not let you be a part of the chapter where everything falls apart."

"Then let me be part of all the beautiful chapters before it!" Jungkook implored, his hand reaching out, hovering in the space between them, a silent plea. "Your heart is full of love... you told me to take it all. So let me. Don't make me give it back now."

Taehyung looked at Jungkook’s offered hand, his entire body trembling with the effort it took not to reach back. The station lights glinted off his tears, making it look as though he were weeping diamonds. "Don't you see? This feeling blooming for you is the most rewarding journey I never thought I'd have. You are the most beautiful part of my story," he confessed, his voice barely audible. "But that is precisely why I have to let our story end here. Because I will trust and love you for a long, long time... even if it's from a distance."

Taehyung’s eyes, still swimming with tears, lifted to meet Jungkook’s. He looked at him with a longing so deep it seemed to pull from the very core of his soul, a desperate, silent plea for a reality they couldn't have. A thought, fragile and heartbreaking, flickered in his mind: How beautiful he is. How can anyone look so beautiful with eyes full of yearning and tears? He wanted to memorize this face, to sear it into his memory for the lonely days to come.

Seeing the conflict, the raw fear in Taehyung’s gaze, Jungkook closed the final distance between them. Gently, he pressed his forehead against Taehyung’s, their breaths mingling, creating a fragile, intimate world amidst the impersonal station. The cool skin contact was a balm and a brand.

"I know you're scared," Jungkook whispered, his voice a low, fervent vow against Taehyung's lips. "You think no real relationship can begin after knowing someone for only a few weeks. But my heart doesn't measure in time, Tae. It measures in the light you brought into my life. I promise you, I will never leave your side. I am sure of it. You are so, so beautiful."

He lifted his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that traced paths down Taehyung's cheeks. The touch was feather-light, a silent testament to his care.

Taehyung’s eyes fluttered closed for a second, a shuddering breath escaping him. The fight seemed to be draining from him, replaced by a profound, weary sorrow. "Jungkook-ssi" he whispered, his breathing becoming ragged, each inhale a struggle. "You don't realize it... you don't..."

And then, his legs gave way.

He crumpled forward, a dead weight into Jungkook’s arms.

"Taehyung!" Jungkook’s cry was a raw, panicked sound that cut through the station's hum. He caught him, his own heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "Taehyung! Wake up! Somebody, help! Call an ambulance!"

The world narrowed to a single, terrifying point. The distant wail of the siren, the frantic rush of paramedics, the blur of the ride to the hospital it all passed in a nauseating haze. Jungkook could only clutch Taehyung's limp hand, his mind screaming a single, desperate prayer.

Now, he sat hunched on a cold, plastic chair in the sterile, white corridor of the hospital. The sharp scent of antiseptic stung his nostrils. The rhythmic beeping of a monitor from a nearby room was a torturous metronome counting the seconds of uncertainty. He was still wearing the same shirt from this morning, now stained with tears and fear.

A doctor finally emerged from Taehyung's room, his face grim. "Are you the one who came with Mr. Kim Taehyung?"

"Yes," Jungkook said, shooting to his feet. "Is he okay? What's wrong with him?"

The doctor consulted his chart. "And what is your relationship to the patient?"

"I'm... I'm his friend," Jungkook stammered, the word feeling woefully inadequate.

"I see. As his friend, are you aware of Mr. Kim's condition? His Arrhythmogenic Right Ventricular Cardiomyopathy?"

The name was long, clinical, and utterly terrifying. Jungkook could only stare, uncomprehending. "His... what?"

"ARVC," the doctor repeated, his tone softening slightly at Jungkook's obvious shock. "It's a rare, progressive genetic heart disease. The heart muscle is slowly replaced by fatty and fibrous tissue, leading to dangerous arrhythmias and heart failure. It's what caused his collapse. We've stabilized him for now, but his condition is... very serious."

Jungkook’s world tilted on its axis. A rare heart disease. Heart failure. Serious. The words echoed, but they made no sense. "No," he breathed, shaking his head. "That can't be. You're mistaken. Taehyung is... he's so full of life. He's the happiest person I know."

The doctor gave a sympathetic, weary look. "Often, those who carry the heaviest burdens learn to smile the brightest."

As the doctor walked away, Jungkook’s legs gave out, and he sank back into the chair. His gaze fell on Taehyung's backpack, which he had instinctively brought with him. With trembling hands, he unzipped the main compartment, his fingers searching until they closed around a small, leather-bound journal.

He shouldn't. But he had to understand.

He opened it. The pages were filled with Taehyung's familiar, looping script.

Entry: March 15

The doctors confirmed it today. ARVC. They used words like 'progressive' and 'no cure.' Mom cried. Dad just looked out the window. I feel like I'm in a glass box, and everyone can see me shatter, but no one can hear me scream.

Entry: May 3

They told the kids at school. Now they call me 'Glass Heart.' They push me in the halls and ask if I'll break. I won't. I won't give them the satisfaction.

Entry: September 10

My parents finalized the divorce today. They said the stress of my illness was too much. So my broken heart literally broke my family apart. The irony is so cruel it's almost funny.

Entry: October 30

I've decided. I'm not going to live like I'm dying. I'm going to live like I'm living, for as long as I have. I will be loud. I will be bright. I will fill every single second with so much noise that the silence and the emptiness can't get me. I will not give up.

The final entry broke him. A wretched, guttural sob tore from Jungkook’s throat. He cried for the boy who was bullied, for the son who felt responsible for his family's fracture, for the young man facing a terrifying future with unimaginable bravery. He cried because he finally understood. Taehyung’s loudness wasn't naivety; it was a shield. His relentless cheerfulness wasn't foolishness; it was an act of profound courage, a deliberate rebellion against the darkness that sought to claim him. He wasn't a child unaware of life's gravity; he was a warrior who had been bearing its full, crushing weight entirely alone.

Jungkook clutched the journal to his chest, his tears soaking into the leather. His heart didn't just ache; it shattered and reformed, now beating with a fierce, protective love and a devastating, awe-struck respect for the brave, beautiful soul lying in the hospital room.

The sterile white door of the hospital room felt heavier than any door Jungkook had ever opened. He pushed it slowly, the soft click echoing in the overwhelming silence. The room was bathed in the pale, washed-out light of a fading afternoon, and there, in the center of it all, was Taehyung.

He looked small against the stark white sheets, dwarfed by the machinery that beeped a steady, rhythmic testament to his fragile heart. His eyes were open, gazing at the ceiling, but they were different the vibrant, mischievous light was gone, replaced by a deep, soul-weary exhaustion. They shifted as Jungkook entered, meeting his, and in their depths was an ocean of unspoken apologies and fears.

Jungkook’s own brave front crumbled. He didn’t speak. He simply walked to the chair beside the bed and sat down, his shoulders hunched, his head bent low as if carrying the weight of all his newfound knowledge. A long, shaky minute passed before he found his voice, a broken whisper in the quiet room.

“I am sorry.”

Taehyung’s brow furrowed slightly. “For what?”

“For all of it,” Jungkook murmured, finally lifting his head, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening. “I saw a happy, loud, carefree person. I never saw the battles you were fighting just to breathe. I misjudged you. I thought you were naive, when in reality, you are the bravest person I have ever known.”

A single tear escaped from the corner of Taehyung’s eye, tracing a path into his hairline. His voice was hoarse from medication and fatigue. “All I ever wanted… was to be seen for who I am, not for this sickness that lives inside me. I never wanted my illness to be the reason someone was gentle with me.”

“It isn’t,” Jungkook said, his voice gaining a fierce, tender strength. He leaned forward, his hand hesitantly reaching to cover Taehyung’s on the sheet. “My gentleness isn’t for your illness, Tae. It’s for your soul. The one that shines so brightly, even when it’s drowning in shadows. You are the only person who saw me,” he echoed Taehyung’s own words back to him. “The real me, buried under all the rubble of my past. And you are the only one I have ever truly seen in return.”

Taehyung turned his hand, their fingers lacing together in a silent, desperate clutch. “You see me, and yet you’re still here?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Jungkook-ssi, you have to understand… I don’t have so much time. My story… it has an ending written in my very cells.”

“No,” Jungkook said, the word a vow, a plea, a command. He brought his other hand to cradle Taehyung’s, his touch firm and sure. “Your story is not over. You are not going anywhere. Do you hear me? I’m taking you to New York with me. We will consult the best cardiologists in the world. We will fight this, together. I have money, I have resources… I will move mountains if I have to. Everything will be fine.”

“You can’t promise that,” Taehyung cried softly, a sob catching in his throat. “You can’t fight fate.”

“I can try!” Jungkook’s voice was passionate, filled with a love so raw it was terrifying. “You saved me once. You pulled me from the edge of an abyss I was ready to fall into. You made me realize what real happiness is. You taught me that you don’t need grand successes or piles of money to be happy. Sometimes, something as simple as walking with a stranger through the streets of a foreign land, listening to their ridiculous stories, can make your soul feel whole for the first time. You changed my entire perception of life. If you hadn’t been there, a part of me would have died. Now,” he squeezed his hand, his eyes blazing with determination and love, “let me save you. Let me be the one who holds your hand through this. Please. Don’t ask me to let you go. I just found you.”

Taehyung stared at him, his defenses finally, completely shattered. The love in Jungkook’s eyes was a force more powerful than any disease, a light so bright it threatened to eclipse all the darkness he had carried for so long. A real, tremulous smile, the first genuine one since he’d woken up, touched his lips.

“A stranger in a foreign land?” he repeated, his voice a little stronger.

Jungkook smiled through his own tears, a watery, beautiful sight. “My favorite stranger,” he whispered, leaning in to gently rest his forehead against Taehyung’s once more, their shared breaths a new, hopeful rhythm against the steady beep of the heart monitor. “The one I never want to be a stranger again.”

Jungkook’s thumb gently stroked the back of Taehyung’s hand, tracing the delicate lines of his knuckles. The silence between them was no longer heavy with sorrow, but filled with a profound, burgeoning hope. He lifted Taehyung’s hand, his eyes never leaving the other man’s, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his palm—a kiss that felt like a promise, a seal upon the vows they had just exchanged.

“Kim Taehyung,” Jungkook whispered, his voice thick with emotion but clear with intent. “Will you… will you be my boyfriend? Let me be the one who stands by you, not just in this hospital room, but through everything that comes after.”

A fresh wave of tears welled in Taehyung’s eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief, of a burden shared, of a loneliness finally ending. He couldn't form the words, his throat too tight with emotion. Instead, he simply nodded, again and again, a silent, fervent yes as he squeezed Jungkook’s hand with all the strength he could muster.

Jungkook let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a watery smile breaking through his own tears. He leaned forward and pressed another tender kiss, this time to Taehyung’s forehead. “Rest now,” he murmured. “Just rest. I’m here.”

Once he was sure Taehyung had drifted into a peaceful sleep, his breathing even and his features relaxed, Jungkook carefully extracted his hand. He stepped out into the sterile hallway, the door clicking shut behind him. The world outside their bubble suddenly felt sharp and real again, and there was urgent work to be done.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers moving with a new, decisive purpose. He scrolled to a contact and pressed call.

The line picked up after a few rings. “Jungkook?  What’s up?” Namjoon’s voice, always calm and measured, came through the speaker.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, his voice low but firm, leaving no room for question. “I need you to book two tickets to Seoul. The earliest flight you can get.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Two tickets? What’s going on?  Is everything alright?”

Jungkook’s gaze drifted back to the closed hospital room door. He could feel the weight of the promise he had just made, a responsibility he now carried not as a burden, but as a privilege.

“Everything is going to be,” Jungkook replied, his voice softening with a certainty that went bone-deep. “I just have some very important work to take care of. The most important work of my life.”

The soft, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor became a gentle metronome, marking the passage of a new, fragile peace. Jungkook stood for a long moment, his shoulder leaning against the cool wall, simply watching Taehyung sleep. The rise and fall of his chest under the thin hospital blanket was the most profound sight in the world. The frantic panic that had clawed at him just hours before had settled into a deep, unwavering resolve.

He finally pushed himself away from the wall and walked back to the chair, its plastic frame creaking softly under his weight. He didn't take his eyes off Taehyung. In the quiet dimness, with the city lights beginning to glitter like scattered diamonds outside the window, he could see the faint traces of dried tears on Taehyung's cheeks, the delicate fan of his lashes against his skin. He looked ethereal, unburdened in his sleep, and so incredibly precious.

Reaching out, Jungkook let his fingers gently brush a stray lock of hair from Taehyung’s forehead, his touch feather-light. A profound sense of rightness settled over him. This was where he was meant to be. In this journey he had found a reason to exist outside of himself. The emptiness that had been his constant companion was now filled with a purpose so clear it was almost blinding: to protect this light, to fight for this heart, for as long as it beat.

He leaned back in the chair, not releasing Taehyung’s hand, their fingers still loosely intertwined. The future was a vast, uncertain ocean, filled with storms they would have to face. But for now, in this quiet room, there was only this. The silence was no longer hollow, but filled with the quiet symphony of a shared breath, a promise whispered in the space between heartbeats, and the dawning of a love that had chosen to defy the stars themselves. The chapter of solitude was closed. The next page, waiting to be written, began here, in the soft, steady sound of their waiting.

Chapter Text

Dearest readers this story will be on a haitus as I can't bring myself up to decide an ending except for the death of a major character and I don't have the heart to do that too.
Therefore this is me signing off this story.
Thank you for you love and support.
💗