Taehyung stood by the gates of the base, the heavy metal clinking shut behind him for the last time. The weight of his duffel bag on his shoulder was nothing compared to the pressure he used to feel on his chest during the first weeks of enlistment. Back then, he was smaller, softer—an easy target for tougher recruits. But time had carved strength into him. His shoulders were broader, his voice deeper, his movements precise. He had become something else—someone else.

His uniform fit differently now, clinging to the muscle he’d built with relentless training. Even his face had changed—sharper, more stoic—but his eyes still held the warmth he reserved for one person only.

Niko.

Two years. Two years without a call, without a visit, without a single familiar voice besides the occasional letter Taehyung kept folded neatly in the side pocket of his jacket. He read those words until they faded, memorized the way Niko’s thoughts curled through paper, imagined the way they'd sound if they had been spoken aloud.

He stepped onto the bus, headed back to the city. Every street they passed was tinted with memories of his best friend—late-night talks under neon lights, coffee shop corners filled with laughter, the way Niko always believed in him when he couldn't even look in the mirror without flinching.

The bus stopped. Taehyung hesitated for just a second, then stood. Civilians stared as he stepped off, not just for the uniform, but the confidence he carried like a second skin. He scanned the crowd, heart hammering.

And then—there.

He froze.

There was Niko, right where they agreed to meet all those months ago.

Taehyung didn’t smile at first. He just stared, breath caught in his throat. But then, like a dam breaking, a slow grin tugged at his lips.

"Niko."

His voice was rough, unused to anything outside commands and silence. But the way he said that name—it held years of unspoken stories, of missed moments, of gratitude too deep to explain.

He dropped his bag.

And took a step forward.