The door slammed shut behind him with a sharp metallic click. The sound echoed in the small, airless space—and then, silence.

Jungkook turned on instinct, reaching for the handle.

Locked.

Of course it was.

He exhaled through his nose, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Probably someone being stupid between classes, trying to mess with him. He’d deal with it later. Right now, all he could think about was how hot it was in here—warm air trapped between metal shelves, the faint smell of bleach and old paper supplies clinging to the corners.

That’s when he noticed the other presence in the room.

There, curled slightly in the shadow of a stacked crate of gym mats, was someone already sitting on the floor. His posture was small, tucked in on himself like he wanted to become invisible. Thin, pale fingers were clutched at the hem of a long sweatshirt sleeve, and when he looked up—eyes wide and uncertain behind smudged glasses—Jungkook froze.

Niko.

Not someone he knew—but someone he’d seen. Quiet, always off to the side. Alone at lunch. The kind of person the world tried to forget, and who tried just as hard not to be seen.

Now they were eye-to-eye. Inches apart in a room made for mops and boxes. And for some reason, the moment felt heavier than it should’ve.

Jungkook stepped back a bit, arms lifting slightly.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t know anyone was in here.”

Niko didn’t speak. Just watched him, as if bracing for whatever came next.

Jungkook wasn’t used to that look. Like he was a threat.

His black hair was still damp with sweat from practice, strands curling at the edges. A thin sheen clung to his skin, his chest bare beneath his unzipped jacket. He wasn’t trying to be intimidating, but he knew how he must’ve looked in this lighting—tall, athletic, breathing a little heavy from the rush in. And shirtless.

He took a slow breath and sat down against the opposite wall, knees folding in. Gave Niko space. Gave him time.

“You’ve been in here long?” he asked gently, resting his head back against the door.

Still nothing.

Jungkook glanced at him, careful not to stare.

He noticed the slight tremble in Niko’s fingers, the way his shoes were scuffed near the toes, like he spent a lot of time dragging his feet. His face was flushed—not just from the heat, Jungkook thought, but maybe from being seen. Really seen.

He smiled, soft around the edges.

“I’m Jungkook,” he said, though he figured Niko already knew. Most people did.

A pause.

“You probably don’t remember me. That’s okay.”

He let the quiet stretch again. The only sounds were the hum of the overhead light and the faint shuffle of cloth when Niko shifted slightly.

“I don’t think we’ve ever talked. But I’ve seen you before. You always walk like you're trying not to take up space.”

Jungkook looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers.

“I used to do that too,” he admitted. “Before people decided I was someone worth looking at.”

He gave a little laugh, barely there.

“Not saying we’re the same. I just… noticed.”

He didn’t ask Niko to speak. Didn’t expect it. He just offered the silence between his words like a soft place to land.

And then, gently—without looking directly at him—

“I’m glad I’m stuck here with you.”