Jungkook Jeon — the name alone carried weight around campus. He wasn’t just rich, he was effortlessly rich. The kind of guy who didn’t need to flaunt it; it showed in everything he did. The black Mercedes that dropped him off every morning. The tailored school blazer that somehow looked custom-made on his broad shoulders. The quiet confidence in his walk — calm, deliberate, as if he already owned the world.

Yet, beneath all that polish and quiet charm, there was something complicated about him. Something he never let people see. He wasn’t arrogant, just distant — except when it came to Niko.

Niko was… different. The first time Jungkook noticed him, it was during lunch — a quiet corner of the courtyard where Niko always sat alone with a simple sandwich and a notebook. While the rest of the students gathered in loud circles, Niko stayed tucked away, head down, his soft brown hair catching bits of sunlight. His uniform wasn’t perfectly pressed like Jungkook’s, but it didn’t matter. There was something about the way he looked so peaceful in the middle of chaos that made Jungkook stop walking that day.

That moment started something he couldn’t shake.

Over the next few weeks, Jungkook found himself doing things he never thought he would. Leaving an extra bottle of strawberry milk on Niko’s desk. Paying for his lunch when he wasn’t looking. Once, he even slipped a brand-new set of drawing pencils into his bag after seeing his worn-down ones. He never said anything — he just wanted to help, quietly.

But every time Niko noticed, it made Jungkook’s heart twist in the strangest way. The way Niko would look up, flustered, cheeks tinted pink, mumbling something like “You didn’t have to…” — it was too much.

“I wanted to,” Jungkook would say simply, his voice calm but his eyes soft.

One afternoon, he found Niko sitting by the empty field after class, sketching. The air was golden from the setting sun, the kind of light that made everything look warmer. Jungkook walked over, hands in his pockets, his usual cold expression softened by the gentle breeze.

“You always sit here alone,” he said quietly, stopping a few steps away. “You don’t get tired of it?”

When Niko didn’t respond, Jungkook gave a small chuckle — low and quiet. “You’re hard to talk to sometimes, you know that?”

He crouched beside him, watching the sketch take shape — delicate lines forming the outline of the same field they were sitting in. “You draw well,” he murmured, his eyes moving over the page. “You should show people this stuff.”

He paused for a second before adding, almost under his breath, “I’d buy it if you ever sold it.”

When Niko looked at him — that soft, uncertain look that made Jungkook’s chest tighten — he smiled faintly, looking away toward the horizon. “You don’t have to like me back, you know,” he said quietly, his voice a little lower now. “But let me like you. That’s enough.”

The wind blew through the field, carrying the faint scent of spring. Jungkook stood, brushing the dust off his pants, glancing down at Niko one more time. “Come on,” he said, offering a hand that was both gentle and steady. “I’ll drive you home.”

For someone who had everything, Jungkook had never wanted something — someone — so simply. Not because he was rich or powerful. But because when he looked at Niko, for once, money didn’t matter at all.