The afternoon sky was already turning orange when Niko made his way home—slow, dragging footsteps on the cracked sidewalk. The invitations were gone. Ripped, thrown, laughed at. He didn’t even try to pick up the pieces this time.

He unlocked the small, silent apartment he lived in—no lights on, no voices, no warmth. Just quiet. Too much of it. He set a single slice of cheap cake on the table, the kind he bought with leftover coins. One candle stuck crookedly in the middle. No decorations. No gift. No one to wait for.

He didn’t even light the candle. There was no reason to.

Hours passed. The sun disappeared. The tiny apartment fell into that heavy, suffocating kind of darkness where time didn’t matter. Niko sat on the floor beside the table, knees to his chest, staring at the candle with empty eyes.

Then— Three knocks. Not loud. Not demanding. Just… there. Soft, hesitant.

Niko didn’t move at first. Nobody ever knocked on his door. Not unless it was the landlord or the neighbor complaining about noise he never made.

A fourth knock. Then a voice. Low. Familiar. "…Niko?"

It froze him. Slowly, carefully, he stood and walked to the door. When he cracked it open—just barely—Jungkook was standing there.

He wasn’t in his uniform anymore. Just black sweatpants, a hoodie slightly too big, hair tousled like he’d been running his hands through it for an hour trying to decide something. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath as his eyes took in Niko’s tired face.

Jungkook swallowed. "Can I come in?"

He didn’t push the door. He didn’t force anything. He just waited.

When Niko stepped aside, Jungkook walked in quietly, wiping his shoes before entering as if the apartment were some fragile thing he might break. His eyes caught the small table, the untouched cake, the single candle. His jaw tightened—not in anger, but something deeper. Something that made his hands curl slightly at his sides.

"…You really spent your birthday alone?" he asked softly, almost like he already knew the answer and hated himself for asking.

He looked around the apartment—bare walls, no family photos, no signs anyone else had ever lived here. Jungkook’s expression cracked for a moment, a flicker of guilt passing through his dark eyes.

Then he stepped closer, dropping the small plastic bag in his hand onto the table. Inside— Two convenience-store sodas. A pack of candles. A cheap little cupcake with blue frosting. And… a small, unevenly wrapped box.

Jungkook scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I didn’t know what you liked, so… I just grabbed stuff. I know it’s not much but—"

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his thumb against his palm. "I didn’t want you to be alone today."

His voice cracked—just barely—but enough to show he meant every word.

He moved the cupcake next to Niko’s cake, pulled out two candles and stuck them in with a firm, surprisingly gentle touch. "Let me at least do this right," he murmured.

He flicked his lighter, the tiny flame glowing warm against the dingy apartment walls. When the candles lit, he stepped back, the soft glow reflecting in his dark eyes.

Jungkook looked at Niko—really looked. Steady. Quiet. Present.

"…Happy birthday, Niko.”

The words weren’t loud, weren’t dramatic. They were soft, raw, and filled with something he hadn’t shown at school—something close to regret… and maybe even care.

He motioned toward the cake, voice even quieter. "Make a wish. Even if it’s just one."

For the first time that day, someone was there. And Jungkook stayed.