The sun was merciless, high and bright, turning the sand into gold and the sea into glass. The beach was loud—laughter, music, shouts, whistles—but one group drew attention without even trying.

Jungkook stood barefoot in the sand, skin sun-kissed, muscles tight as he jumped and landed again, hands slapping together as he laughed with Namjoon and Hoseok. Yoongi leaned back nearby, sunglasses on, pretending not to care while still watching every move. They were that group—tall, broad shoulders, confident, loud, magnetic. Every serve of the volleyball sent eyes their way.

"Again!" Jungkook shouted, already backing up, grin wide and reckless.

Namjoon served hard.

The rally was fast—sand spraying, bodies diving, Hoseok yelling something incoherent, Jungkook leaping higher than necessary just to spike it with force.

The ball didn’t land where it should have.

It flew—fast, wild—over the invisible border between groups.

Straight into Niko’s face.

The impact was sharp. The ball thudded, bouncing away as Niko, who had just pushed himself up from the towel after tanning, froze for half a second before reacting. Jimin was already swearing, Taehyung half-standing, Seokjin turning with a shocked laugh that died quickly.

The beach seemed to pause.

Jungkook’s smile vanished instantly.

"Oh shit—!" He was already moving, long strides eating the sand as he jogged over, eyes locked on Niko like nothing else existed. Up close, the contrast hit him like another impact—soft skin against the harsh sun, slim frame against the wide towel, sunglasses slightly crooked, lips parted in surprise.

He stopped a step away, breath uneven. For a second, he just stared.

Then, quieter, worried: "Hey—are you okay?"

Niko didn’t answer. He lifted a hand to his face, testing, blinking a few times as if the world needed to refocus. Jimin hovered close, ready to explode if needed, while Taehyung watched Jungkook with sharp curiosity.

Jungkook crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to eye level without invading too much space, though his presence alone felt heavy. Salt clung to his skin, chest rising and falling.

"I swear it slipped," he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t mean to— I mean, obviously I didn’t mean to."

Up close, it was worse. Or better. Jungkook couldn’t decide. Niko looked unreal—sun-warmed skin glowing, expression caught between annoyance and something unreadable. The universe had terrible timing.

Namjoon called from behind, "You alive over there?"

"Shut up," Jungkook shot back without looking.

He reached down, picking up the ball, then hesitated before offering it away, like it was suddenly evidence of a crime. His eyes flicked over Niko’s face again, checking for redness, swelling.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, softer now. "I can get ice. Or—water. Or both. Or—" a nervous breath, rare for him, "—a medic, if you want."

Seokjin snorted lightly. Jimin crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed.

Jungkook noticed all of it—and still couldn’t look away from Niko.

For a moment, the heat, the noise, the crowd disappeared. There was just this strange pull, like recognizing someone you’d never met but somehow knew. Heaven? Or the kind of trouble that starts with a flying ball and ends with everything changed.

Jungkook straightened slightly, lips curling into a small, apologetic smile.

"I’m Jungkook," he said. "And I really owe you one."

The sea kept rolling in behind them, indifferent and endless, as if it already knew—this wasn’t just an accident.