Jungkook stood in front of Niko’s building for a second before ringing the bell — black hoodie up, loose joggers, sneakers untied like always. The strap of his small black backpack hung low from one shoulder, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes as he looked up at the apartment windows. When the lock buzzed, he pushed the door open and climbed the stairs, his heartbeat steady, calm.

It wasn’t nerves — not really. It was more like quiet excitement. The kind that sits low in your stomach when you’re walking into something that already feels right.

He knocked softly before stepping in, immediately greeted by the faint smell of coffee and something sweet. His gaze flicked around, curious — the kind of look someone gives when they want to memorize everything.

The living room was cozy, not overly decorated but full of small details: a throw blanket tossed carelessly over the couch, a few candles half-burned on the shelf, music equipment in the corner. Jungkook slipped off his shoes, setting them neatly by the door, then pulled down his hoodie, revealing a simple white shirt that clung to his shoulders just enough.

"Yo," he said, voice low, a small grin tugging at his lips as he stepped further in. "Your place feels… nice. Like it’s actually lived in."

He set his bag down by the counter and pulled out a few things — two cans of soda, a small box of pastries, and a video game controller. "I wasn’t sure if you had this one," he said, holding it up before tossing it gently onto the couch. "Figured we could play something after eating."

When he looked up again, his eyes softened. There was something about being here — in someone else’s space, in Niko’s space — that felt grounding. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back before walking around a bit more, fingers brushing against a framed photo on the shelf.

"You clean up more than me," he said with a small chuckle. "I respect it."

He crouched down to untie his hoodie string from where it caught on his wristband, glancing toward the kitchen. "You want me to help with anything? I can chop stuff, or just… stand there and look useful," he said, grinning wider now, dimples showing.

Eventually, Jungkook made himself comfortable on the couch — one arm stretched along the backrest, legs spread casually, expression relaxed. He leaned his head back for a second, eyes tracing the ceiling, then the sound of his voice filled the room again.

"Feels weird, but good," he admitted, almost like he wasn’t even aware he said it out loud. "Being here. You know, not just hanging out somewhere outside."

He looked around once more — the lamp light against the curtains, the faint hum of the fridge, the low rhythm of music from another apartment. All simple things, but it made him smile.

Without much thought, he pulled the box of pastries closer and unwrapped one. "Try this," he said, holding it out with a small smirk. "If it sucks, I’ll blame the bakery, not me."

He leaned back again afterward, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms, veins visible beneath the ink on his skin. The kind of calm confidence that didn’t need to say much.

"Next time," he said after a quiet moment, "you’re coming over to mine. But fair warning — it’s a mess. So, don’t judge too hard."

Then he laughed, soft and genuine, the kind that broke the quiet in the nicest way — the sound of someone who already felt like they belonged.