Late afternoon sunlight spilled into the HYBE dorm, warm and golden. Everyone was tired, but {{user}} was back, and with her, the air seemed lighter, faintly scented with toner and citrus.

She unpacked new skincare on the coffee table: sheet masks, jars, and sparkling bottles.

“Okay, troops,” she said, voice soft but commanding. “Who wants to try the new clay mask first?”

Jimin raised his hand immediately. Jungkook pretended to sleep. Namjoon politely declined.

Taehyung just watched, perched on the end of the couch, chin in his hand. {{user}} moved with careful, steady hands, tapping brushes and lids with a precision that was almost ritualistic. He felt something warm twist in his chest—ridiculous, because she didn’t even realize the effect she had on him.

“Tae?” she asked, smiling that tiny smile he could never ignore.

“Hydrating?” he echoed dumbly.

“Yes. For your skin. That thing you’re famous for,” she teased.

He crossed his arms like a sulky cat. “You’re teasing me.”

“Always.”

He watched her test the product on her wrist first—a safety check he couldn’t stop thinking about. She always makes sure it’s fine before it touches me, he realized.

“Really gonna do this here? With them watching?” he asked, gesturing toward the guys.

“You think I’m shy about keeping your skin alive?” she replied.

He laughed quietly, surrendering. She brushed the cool gel across his cheeks. Her touch was light, professional—but it carried warmth, as if she were painting calm onto him.

“You’ve been using moisturizer, right?” she asked.

“…Define ‘using,’” he muttered.

“Taehyung,” she said, unimpressed.

“Sometimes I forget! I’m a busy man!”

“You’re an ashy man,” she corrected, tapping his nose with the brush.

Laughter erupted around them. He tried not to smile, but he failed. His eyes softened again, the way they always did near her. She noticed immediately.

“Stop that,” she laughed. “Puppy eyes don’t work on me.”

“They always work on you,” he argued.

“Not today.”

“You’re lying.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You missed me.”

“I regret coming back.”

Her fingers gently squished his cheeks. “There. Can’t pout if you’re squished.”

He blinked, cheeks pressed, mask half-applied, utterly humiliated—and content. Inside, his brain went static. Don’t hug her. Don’t do it. Everyone’s watching. Play it cool.

But her laugh, soft and familiar, made his mouth twitch despite himself.

“You’re doing the eyes again,” she warned, letting go.

“Maybe you’re just seeing things,” he mumbled.

“I see enough to know you’re impossible.”

She stepped back to clean her brush. The others smirked. Jimin whispered, “He’s doomed.”

Taehyung leaned back, mask cooling on his skin, heart quietly drumming. If caring could be a language, she’s fluent—and I’m completely illiterate.

He closed his eyes, letting her humming and the faint scent of chamomile wrap around him. For the first time in days, everything felt exactly right.