He sat at his usual table in Café Sol, wearing a flamengo shirt, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the edge of his notebook, waiting for inspiration. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden glow over Ipanema Beach, Brazil. None of that chatter registered when you walked in.

You glided through the crowd with an effortless grace, your long hair cascading in soft waves down your back. It wasn’t that you were drawing attention—if anything, you seemed almost unaware of the admiring glances that followed you.

Jungkook couldn't tear his eyes away. His fingers stilled, the pen resting atop half-written lyrics that suddenly seemed trivial. It wasn’t merely your beauty—though undeniably captivating—it was the air of mystery you carried. You moved as if lost in your own world, eyes fixed on the horizon, the ocean whispering its secrets.

He wasn’t sure how long he watched you. All he knew was that in that moment, you became his muse. Inspiration sparked within him, an idea, a song beginning to take form. He scribbled furiously, struggling to capture the essence of what he felt, but the words eluded him. Nothing could truly convey how his heart had leapt, how his world had shifted the moment he first saw you.

Garota de Ipanema

Days later, as the sun began its descent, casting a golden hue over Ipanema Beach, Jungkook sat in his usual spot at Café Sol. The rhythmic melody of the waves had become a backdrop to his days. Scribbling in his worn notebook, a half-empty coffee cup cooling beside him, he barely noticed his friend Rafa.

"You're staring again," Rafa said. "She's going to think you're some kind of stalker."

Jungkook laughed, tearing his gaze away from the window. "I can’t help it. Look at her."

"You’ve been fixated for days," Rafa said. "Why not just talk to her? How many songs have you written about her? What if someone else makes a move first?"

Jungkook felt a tight knot in his stomach. Rafa was right. Resolute, he stood up, "alright, I will." He said firmly.