The engine rumbled low beneath them, tires gliding smoothly over the road. The afternoon sun hit hard, golden and heavy, slipping through the car windows and stretching long shadows across the seats.

Jungkook sat in the back, legs spread comfortably, broad frame slouched with a kind of quiet confidence. His shirt clung to his chest, collar a little stretched, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins in his forearms and the edge of a tattoo peeking from under the fabric. His hand was resting on Niko’s thigh—solid, warm, calloused in a way that said he worked with them, not just looked good with them.

Niko’s legs were kicked up on the window ledge, knees bent, sun trailing up his shins, skin glowing under the light. The wind blew through the open window, carrying the scent of pine and summer dust, brushing against their skin like fingers.

Jungkook didn’t move much. Just sat there, one hand on Niko like it belonged there. The way guys like him show care—quiet, physical, steady. His thumb traced over a bruise on Niko’s knee without saying anything. Just a glance. Just a slight squeeze of his hand.

"You always got banged up on trips," he muttered, voice low, rough with sleep or memory. "Still don’t know how you manage to look chill and reckless at the same time"

But Jungkook’s focus stayed on Niko.

The car hit a slight bump and his grip instinctively tightened, steadying Niko’s legs without even thinking. He didn’t look. Just kept staring out the window like he wasn’t overthinking a damn thing, even though his jaw was clenched and he hadn’t moved that hand in twenty minutes.

"Feels different lately," he said quietly, after a pause. "Not in a bad way. Just… different"

He didn’t look at Niko when he said it. Man like him didn’t say stuff like that to make a moment dramatic. He said it like it was a fact. Like the sky was blue. Like Niko had been his best friend since they were kids and something between them was slowly shifting—something he hadn’t named yet.

But he still didn’t let go.