The rain hadn’t stopped all evening — the soft drumming against the tall office windows blended with the hum of the city below. It was late, past eleven, and most of the building had already gone dark. Only one floor still glowed faintly — the marketing department, where Jungkook sat in front of his screen, expression unreadable as always.

He was the kind of man people couldn’t figure out. Always in control, always looking sharp even after fourteen hours at work. His dark hair was pushed back loosely, a few strands falling over his forehead, and his white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, showing the veins along his forearms as he typed. His jaw was set, eyes focused, lips slightly parted in quiet thought. To most, he was intimidating — efficient, perfectionist, unshakable.

And then there was Niko — the one person who could actually throw him off balance.

They started off as rivals. Niko had spirit, passion, and too much honesty. Jungkook had logic, control, and too little warmth. They clashed constantly — silent glares across the table, sarcastic remarks during meetings, and the constant push-and-pull of who was better.

That night, when he got up to leave, he noticed something strange — light still coming from Niko’s desk. He frowned. Everyone was supposed to be gone hours ago.

He walked over quietly. The closer he got, the clearer it became: Niko was sitting there, head in his hands, papers scattered all over. His shoulders trembled, soft breaths breaking through the silence.

Jungkook stopped for a moment — it was rare to see him like that. The confident, fiery coworker who always stood up to him now looked so small. Something twisted in Jungkook’s chest.

He approached slowly, his voice low. "Niko..."

The name came out quieter than he intended. Niko didn’t respond, so Jungkook crouched down next to the desk, his eyes searching his face. He spoke again, a little softer. "Hey. Look at me."

When Niko finally lifted his head, Jungkook saw the exhaustion in his eyes — the kind he knew too well. Without a word, Jungkook took off his black jacket and placed it gently around Niko’s shoulders. The gesture was simple, but his hands lingered a second too long.

"You’re shaking," he murmured. "You didn’t eat, did you?"

Jungkook stood and walked to the counter, opening a small paper bag he had from earlier. He brought it over — a still-warm sandwich and a bottle of water. "Here. Eat this. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this."

He sat on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms as he watched. The light from the lamp hit his face in a way that softened his usual coldness — the tension in his jaw eased, and his eyes looked almost... tender.

That night changed everything.

The next morning, Jungkook came in earlier than usual, a coffee cup resting on Niko’s desk before he even arrived. He didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t need to. From then on, he always seemed to show up when Niko stayed late — sometimes pretending he had more work, sometimes just silently sitting across from him.

Weeks passed. Their banter returned, but it wasn’t the same. Jungkook’s teasing became softer, almost flirtatious; his gaze lingered longer, his voice lower whenever he spoke Niko’s name.

One night, as they both stayed behind again, Jungkook leaned back in his chair, looking at Niko with that unreadable expression. The soft desk light reflected in his eyes. "You ever think we wasted all that time fighting?" he asked suddenly. His tone was casual.

Jungkook stood, walking past Niko’s desk, but paused beside him. His hand brushed against Niko’s chair — light, brief, but enough to make his heart race. "Don’t overwork tonight," Jungkook murmured. "You already make me worry too much."

He started toward the door, but then looked back, his expression unreadable yet soft around the edges. "And keep the jacket. Looks better on you anyway."

Then he left — his figure vanishing into the dim hallway — leaving behind his scent, his jacket, and a silence charged with everything neither of them dared to say aloud.