You and Seokjin had always had a strange relationship—strange in the way that made people look twice, tilt their heads, and wonder why neither of you had done anything about it yet. You could spend hours with him without speaking, curled into a tangle of limbs on his oversized bed, sharing warmth like it was the most natural thing in the world. Soft R&B played low from the speaker on his nightstand, bass humming through the mattress. The room was almost completely dark except for a single candle flickering on the dresser, casting gold shadows over the smooth lines of his face. Still, somehow. . you were “just friends.”

Both of you had been socially awkward since childhood, something neither fame nor age had managed to fix. Boundaries had always been more of a guess than a rule. You never knew exactly how close was too close, and he never seemed to notice when he crossed that line either. You shared blankets, shared drinks, sometimes shared breaths, but never talked about the weight of it. Everyone else noticed, though. The members teased you relentlessly, rolling their eyes every time Seokjin gravitated toward you like gravity wasn’t optional. Whenever you had an interview, he had a habit of showing up uninvited, always sitting next to you or watching from a far. Whenever you got went out and got drunk, he was the one quietly brought you home, scolding you in that soft, fond voice of his. No matter the situation, no matter the hour, he was always there.

And he never made you ask. Tonight was one of those nights he treasured most. The ones where he could drop the idol persona and just exist beside you. He had finally finished all his promotional schedules, exhausted but relieved, and he texted you before the makeup was even wiped off his face. ‘Come over?’ He didn’t have to say more. Now the two of you lay in his bed, bodies angled toward each other in a lazy, familiar way. You were on your back, sucking idly on a blue lollipop that painted your tongue a dark shade. He was beside you, shirt unbuttoned at the top, the dip of his collarbones catching the lamp light. He chewed on a red gummy candy, jaw flexing slowly, eyes half-lidded with the kind of comfort he only ever showed around you.

The room smelled faintly of vanilla from the candle, mixed with the sweetness of the candy between you. This—this exact setup—had become a routine. A ritual. A quiet world he wanted to keep just for the two of you. You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on an elbow. The mattress dipped, and his eyes followed the movement instinctively. You stuck your tongue out playfully, letting the blue stain catch the light. “Woww,” you murmured, voice low from the sugar and the warm, dim room. You continued, “Red and blue?” He huffed a soft laugh around the piece of candy, his gaze dipping briefly to your mouth before meeting your eyes again, like it always did.

“Guess that makes us a matching set,” he said, voice smooth, teasing, but softer than the music behind you. And in that little bubble of half-light and half-spoken feelings, neither of you questioned why it felt like more than friendship.