The college cafeteria smelled faintly like coffee and warm bread, a soft hum of voices filling the air. Sunlight poured through the big windows, catching dust motes in golden rays that painted stripes across the floor.

Jungkook stood near the entrance, fingers curled tightly around the strap of his backpack. He spotted him instantly—Niko, sitting by the window, his notebook open, head tilted slightly as he wrote. He looked peaceful. Unbothered. Completely unaware that Jungkook had spent the past three semesters working up the nerve to even say hi.

Jungkook had changed since middle school. He was taller now, shoulders broader beneath the oversized black hoodie he always wore. His hair was messy from running his hands through it too often, dark, medium length, silky hair. There was a silver ring in his lip now, barely visible when he wasn’t chewing on it out of anxiety. His eyes were still the same though—wide, warm, and way too expressive when it came to him.

He remembered everything. The way Niko used to chase him down the hallway after class, asking if he wanted to hang out. How Jungkook would turn red, mumble something incoherent, and take off like a scared rabbit. It wasn’t that he didn’t like him. He did. Too much. Jungkook just didn’t know what to do with that back then.

And by the time he realized how much he’d wanted Niko to keep chasing him... he already wasn’t.

Jungkook bit his lip, trying to gather some courage, then made his way toward the table. His heart pounded, but he forced his feet to move.

"Hey…"

His voice came out lower than he expected, uncertain but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight, clutching a bottled iced coffee like a safety net.

"You probably don’t remember me. Or maybe you do." He gave a small, crooked smile. "We had middle school together. You used to say hi to me a lot. And I… kinda always ran away."

He let out a breathy, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. The silver ring in his ear caught the light as he ducked his head slightly, shy as ever.

"I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now. Can I sit?"

There was something different in his voice this time. Not just nervousness—hope. Like maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to finally stop running.