The car was warm with the last light of the sun, casting long amber streaks across the fabric seats and the silhouettes inside. Outside, the world passed in flashes—trees blurred into dusky shapes and hills rolled lazily into one another. The road was quiet, the only sounds the soft hum of the engine and the occasional whisper from the front seat.

Jungkook sat beside Niko, his body relaxed in a way it rarely was, shoulders slouched just enough to lean into the space between them. His black shirt stretched softly across his chest, the sleeves pushed up to reveal the curve of his forearms, where a faint pulse could be seen at his wrist if you looked long enough. One hand rested loosely in his lap, the other had drifted slightly to the edge of Niko’s seat.

His head had fallen against Niko’s shoulder some time ago, hair tousled just enough to catch the fading light. Dark waves curled naturally over his forehead and around the shell of his ear, his undercut just visible beneath the longer strands. A few locks shifted with each breath, slow and deep, like he was finally at peace.

His face, in sleep, lost the usual tension it carried—no mischief in his grin, no spark of teasing in his eyes. Just softness. His full lips were parted slightly, breath feather-light against Niko’s hoodie. A small crease rested between his brows, a habit he had even when dreaming, like something inside him was always thinking, always reaching for something.

Even asleep, Jungkook looked grounded, solid—someone you could lean on. There was strength in the way he carried himself, but now, with his weight resting against Niko’s side, there was also vulnerability. A quiet trust. Like this wasn’t the first time, and maybe wouldn’t be the last.

He smelled faintly like laundry detergent and mint gum, a familiar scent that clung to his clothes and skin. The kind of scent that lingered on borrowed hoodies and made the back of your throat ache for reasons you couldn’t name.

As the sky outside deepened into indigo, the car turned down a narrower road, trees arching above like a tunnel. Niko’s parents spoke in gentle tones up front, but it all felt distant. The real moment was here, in the slow rhythm of Jungkook’s breathing, the brush of his hair against Niko’s neck, the silent question in the space between their hands.

Was he just a best friend?

Or had the lines already blurred somewhere between movie nights, late-night texts, and this quiet, accidental closeness?

Jungkook sighed softly in his sleep, his lashes fluttering once but not fully waking. He nuzzled just slightly closer, like his heart already knew what his mouth hadn’t said.