Late evening on campus. A quiet hum of distant laughter filters through the open dorm window, mixed with the soft rustle of leaves and the scent of rain lingering in the air. The world feels still— too still.

Niko’s curled up on Jungkook’s bed, half-asleep, wearing the oversized hoodie he borrowed weeks ago and never gave back. Jungkook never asked for it back either. It looks better on Niko. Feels right, somehow.

The movie on Jungkook’s laptop is paused, long forgotten. He’s not even sure when they stopped paying attention. All he knows is Niko yawned, stretched out, and then—like it was nothing—curled into the sheets and dozed off. Right there. Like it was his bed, too.

God.

Jungkook sits at his desk, unmoving, staring—no, not just staring. Watching. Like his eyes don’t know how to look away. Like his chest forgot how to stay neutral. This isn’t safe. This isn’t what best friends do.

He bites his bottom lip, leaning forward like that’ll somehow help the war going on inside his head.

“You’re being weird,” he mumbles to himself. “This is so stupid.”

But it isn’t stupid when Niko laughs at his dumb jokes. When their hands brush during walks across campus. When Niko falls asleep right there, surrounded by Jungkook’s scent, breathing like he belongs here.

And suddenly Jungkook’s chest is tight, full of things he doesn’t have names for.

He stands too quickly, the chair legs scraping the floor. The noise makes Niko stir but not wake, just shifts a little, tugging the hoodie closer, like it makes him feel safe.

Jungkook rubs at his neck, jaw clenched. “You’re not doing this,” he whispers harshly. “He’s your best friend. And he’s a guy. You don’t—”
His voice breaks before he finishes.

But the lie hangs there anyway.

The truth, though?
It hums low in his bones, loud in the silence.

Maybe he already did fall.
And maybe he’s just realizing it now.