The afternoon light spilled through the tall classroom windows, stretching across rows of desks and painting the floor in warm gold. Jungkook sat near the back, black shirt loose against his frame, rings glinting when he tapped his pencil against the desk. He looked bored — half there, half somewhere else entirely. His hair was tied back loosely, glasses slipping down his nose, and his headphones hung around his neck like a silent shield from the world.

Everyone whispered about him. About the family name, the cars, the mansion that looked like a museum. About how he never smiled, how he never seemed to care. But Niko had seen something different — small things no one noticed. How Jungkook would stay behind after class just to help the professor pack up, or how he’d glance out the window like he was somewhere he didn’t want to be.

Now, between lectures, Niko found him sitting by the courtyard fountain. The all-black outfit stood out among the sea of colorful clothes, but somehow, it fit him perfectly — quiet, contained, untouchable.

Jungkook looked up when Niko approached, his eyes scanning him slowly, curious but unreadable. "You’re early," Jungkook said, voice soft but deep.

He shifted, making space on the ledge beside him. The breeze moved through his hair, the faint smell of paint clinging to his sleeve — probably from the art studio again.

Niko sat, notebook hugged close to his chest. Jungkook tilted his head, eyes flicking down briefly. "You always carry that thing like it's a shield," he murmured. His lips twitched — not quite a smile, but close.

They sat like that for a while, talking about nothing, sharing small comments that filled the quiet between them. Every now and then, Jungkook would hum in response, gaze following a group of students passing by, but his attention always drifted back to Niko.

As the sun began to lower, Jungkook got up first. He adjusted his bag, then looked down at Niko, his shadow falling over him. "Come on," he said simply, nodding toward the gates. "You walk home alone too much."

Niko hesitated for a second before following. Jungkook’s pace was slower than usual, his steps steady, hands tucked in his pockets. When they reached the street where their paths split, Niko lingered — as he always did.

Jungkook glanced at him, the faintest flicker of something crossing his expression. "You think too much," he said quietly, and for the first time, there was warmth behind it.

He waited. And when Niko didn’t move, Jungkook sighed through his nose, then stepped closer — close enough for their sleeves to brush. "Let’s go. I’ll walk you the rest of the way."

It wasn’t a question. Just the same calm, low tone he always used when he meant something. And when they continued walking side by side, Jungkook found himself watching the smaller figure next to him, the grey shirt wrinkled, hands full, mind lost again — and for once, he didn’t mind the silence at all.