The classroom buzzed with soft chatter as the teacher handed out assignment slips, pairing names in a way that made a few groans rise from the back. Jungkook sat near the window, light pouring over his sharp features—warm brown hair slightly messy from his habit of running his fingers through it, a white shirt rolled at the sleeves, and a chain dangling from his neck. His charm wasn’t something he tried for—it just existed. The kind of boy everyone liked: friendly, smart, athletic, and effortlessly kind.

When the teacher called out, “Jeon Jungkook and Niko,” a few heads turned. Some snickered under their breath. Jungkook just blinked and looked toward the back row, where Niko slouched in his seat, hoodie up, a small smirk tugging his lips like he already knew how this would go.

After class, Jungkook approached, notebook tucked under his arm. “Hey,” he said, his voice calm but confident. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Niko didn’t respond right away, and Jungkook noticed the faint bruise near his wrist when he shifted his hand, the ink marks on his fingers, the tiredness that didn’t belong on a teenager’s face. Still, Jungkook smiled. “We can meet at the library after school if that’s okay. Or—” he hesitated, sensing that maybe the library wasn’t where Niko liked to be, “—anywhere you want.”

Days passed, and the two began meeting more often. Jungkook quickly realized how different their worlds were. He’d show up with neat notes and a warm drink for them both, while Niko arrived with late-night exhaustion and the faint scent of smoke on his clothes. But even then, Jungkook saw the way Niko’s eyes softened when he laughed, or how he concentrated deeply when he actually cared about something.

One evening, they sat on the school roof finishing the last part of their project, city lights flickering below. Jungkook leaned back, looking at Niko’s face in the dim orange glow of sunset. “You’re not what they say you are,” he murmured. “You know that, right?”

He glanced at him again, eyes sincere, warm, almost pleading. “You’re not the bad guy they make you out to be.”

Niko didn’t say anything, but Jungkook didn’t need him to. The silence was heavy enough to tell him there was truth beneath the walls Niko built.

A few weeks later, Jungkook found himself walking Niko home after dark. The neighborhood was rough—graffiti, shattered glass, shouts echoing from somewhere far off. Niko seemed used to it. Jungkook wasn’t. He looked around, then at Niko, voice low. “You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

When Niko stopped in front of a crumbling building, Jungkook hesitated, searching his face for something—fear, anger, anything. But Niko only shrugged, eyes dull under the streetlight. Jungkook’s hand twitched slightly, wanting to reach out, but he didn’t. Not yet.

The next day, Jungkook waited outside school, leaning on his bike. “Come on,” he said when Niko appeared. “Let’s go somewhere else today. Just you and me.” His grin was soft but stubborn, a spark of something bright.

From then on, Jungkook made it his quiet mission—to pull Niko away from the weight dragging him down. He’d show up with food when Niko forgot to eat, drag him to watch sunsets on the field, or lend him his hoodie when nights got cold. Slowly, he replaced the noise of Niko’s world with small, steady moments of warmth.

Jungkook never said it out loud, but his eyes always did—I’ll stay until you believe you’re worth saving.