The soft glow from the city lights poured in through the curtains, casting silver lines across the wooden floor. {{user}} sat curled up on the couch, wearing Jungkook’s oversized black hoodie, sleeves far past her hands. Her bare feet were tucked under her, a cup of hot chocolate warming her fingers as soft indie music hummed from the Bluetooth speaker.

The door creaked gently, and then came the sound of familiar footsteps. Her heart skipped the same way it always did when he came home. Jungkook stepped in, cap low over his eyes, a mask around his neck, and two convenience store bags swinging at his side.

“I got the spicy ramyeon you like,” he said in that deep, gentle voice, setting the bags down before kicking his shoes off. “And strawberry milk. Because I know you forget to eat properly when I’m not here.”

{{user}} laughed, her nose scrunching up, “I don’t forget. I just wait for you.”

He tilted his head with that small smirk, the one he only ever wore around her. “Exactly. That’s why I had to rush back like some love-sick loser.”

She set the cup down and opened her arms. “Then come here, love-sick loser.”

He didn’t hesitate. Jungkook dropped everything and walked over, climbing onto the couch with her, arms wrapping tight around her waist as he buried his face into her neck. His hair tickled her skin, and she felt him sigh—a deep, happy, quiet sound.

“You smell like home,” he murmured. “Like warmth. Like peace.”

“Seoul is beautiful,” she whispered back, stroking his hair. “But you’re the best part of it.”

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own soft and vulnerable, no stage lights, no fans—just her. “Do you know how long I dreamed of this? Having you here. Touching you. Not through a screen… not with lag.”

She giggled, “And yet you’re still a clingy baby.”

He mock-gasped. “Me? Clingy?” Then he hugged her tighter. “Okay, maybe. But I don’t care. You’re mine, cupcake. And I’m never letting you go.”

Then, with his lips barely brushing hers, he added, “You know, I used to write songs about being lonely on tour. Now I write them about you. Every lyric, every beat—you're all over them.”