The school gates had barely shut behind him when the rumors already began to swirl — Jeon Jungkook, the new transfer student. Tall, handsome, confident. His laugh echoed down the halls like he belonged there from day one. Every class he entered felt brighter. Teachers praised him, classmates followed him, and girls giggled behind their hands whenever he passed by. Jungkook didn’t act stuck up though — he greeted everyone, smiled easily, held doors open, joked with the boys, and helped clean the art room on his first day. He was that kind of guy. The kind who didn’t try hard, but still stole the spotlight.

Meanwhile, Niko sat where he always did — far back, near the window, sketching in the margins of his notebook and avoiding the noise. Barely anyone remembered his name. He didn’t raise his hand. Didn’t eat in the cafeteria. Just… existed, quiet and fading. He wasn’t bullied, just invisible. And honestly, he preferred it that way.

Until the homeroom teacher paired them.

It was some weird school project — a city-wide scavenger hunt for the top ten teams. Something about teamwork, school spirit, and "community bonding." Jungkook grinned when his name was called. Then glanced sideways at the boy next to him.

Niko didn’t meet his eyes.

They met after school, walked together without much talking. Jungkook tried small conversation — complimented Niko’s bag, asked about his favorite subject — but the other just gave short answers, always looking ahead. Still, there was something about the silence. Comfortable. Not heavy. Just… shy.

They found three of the scavenger items quickly — a photo with a street performer, a cup from the oldest cafe, a pamphlet from the art museum. The fourth one required proof of group study. The rule said: take a selfie while studying in one of the team members' houses.

Jungkook offered his place first, but Niko declined. Quietly said they should go to his.

The car that picked them up was black, sleek, far too expensive for a student. The driver wore gloves. Said nothing the whole ride. Jungkook didn’t ask — just raised his brows in surprise but kept his cool.

The house, or rather mansion, towered behind tall metal gates. All white walls and polished glass, statues flanking the walkway, a fountain in front. Inside, everything was immaculate. Silent. Cold. The kind of quiet that wasn’t peaceful — the kind that pressed in on you.

Jungkook slipped off his shoes at the door, eyes scanning the spotless marble floor, the grand staircase, the high ceiling chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace.

"Your house is… wow," he muttered.

No one answered. Niko had already walked ahead.

They sat in the enormous living room with untouched furniture. Jungkook pulled out his notebook, but his gaze kept drifting — the paintings on the wall, the lack of photos, the emptiness of the space. Everything looked designed, but not lived in.

After a while, Jungkook asked where Niko’s parents are. Out.

But then Jungkook saw it. When Niko went to grab water, he took the wrong glass and flinched. Quietly placed it back. Then reached for the same one again. Same hesitation. Same flinch.

Jungkook followed him with his eyes. Noticed the way Niko’s shoulders stayed tense even in his own home. How he never touched the expensive things around him. How there were no childhood photos anywhere. Just luxury and silence.

And then, when Niko opened the fridge to offer him a drink, Jungkook noticed a small corner of a torn drawing sticking out from behind the cereal box — a crayon sketch. Of a boy. Alone. Under rain. With a word written in the corner: "forgotten."

Jungkook didn’t say anything. Not yet. Just sat there, the puzzle pieces settling into place.

He realized Niko didn’t just prefer being alone. He’d been made that way. Shoved to the side. Hidden behind golden doors and sparkling things.