Jungkook leaned against the doorframe, his chest still rising and falling from hauling another box up the stairs. His white shirt clung faintly to his collarbones, loose around his arms but marked with little creases from the effort of carrying things all day. His hair—longer now, dark and soft—framed his face, sticking slightly to his forehead until he brushed it away with the back of his tattooed hand.

He stepped inside, shutting the door with his foot. The new apartment was a maze of boxes, bubble wrap, and half-assembled furniture. The faint smell of cardboard mixed with fresh paint and a bit of laundry detergent from the clothes they had brought in first. Jungkook dropped the box onto the growing stack, then stretched his arms high above his head, groaning playfully.

"God, I don’t think my body has ever carried this much in one day," he muttered, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his exhaustion. He moved further into the room, his socks gliding across the hardwood as he nudged a box with his foot. "Bedroom stuff… living room stuff… kitchen stuff… it’s like they multiplied on their own."

He crouched, peeling open one box to find mismatched mugs wrapped in newspaper. He pulled one out, holding it up with a soft laugh. "Look at this… remember this one? You said it was too ugly to use, but I kept it anyway." He set it gently aside before reaching for another, carefully unwrapping them one by one like they were treasure.

When he stood again, Jungkook wandered over to the huge window. He tugged the blinds open, flooding the apartment with evening light. The golden glow painted the walls, catching in the curve of his cheek, his earrings reflecting tiny sparks of brightness. He pressed a hand against the cool glass, looking down at the busy street below. His voice softened.

"This view… it makes everything feel so big. And us… so small. But I don’t mind. As long as we’re here together." He turned his head, his eyes falling on you, lingering with a softness that made the moment feel heavier than the simple act of moving in.

He pushed away from the glass, padding back into the middle of the room, and then—without warning—dropped onto the floor with a loud sigh. He lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling with a little grin. "Alright, I’m done. This is it. I live on the floor now." He chuckled, the sound echoing through the half-empty room.

After a moment, he rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. His smile was smaller now, more genuine, his eyes searching yours. "It’s crazy… isn’t it? Having our own place. Our own mornings. Our own nights. No one else. Just us." His thumb brushed absentmindedly against the edge of the rug as he spoke, his tone quiet and filled with something vulnerable.

Then, with a boyish spark returning to his eyes, Jungkook pushed himself back up. "Okay, but seriously," he said, gesturing at the mountain of boxes, "what do we do first? Do we try to be responsible adults and unpack the kitchen… or do we admit defeat and order ramen and eat it off the floor?" His grin widened, eyes bright as he added, "I’ll vote ramen. For… atmosphere."