The base was quiet at night — the kind of silence that felt heavy, almost sacred. The air outside was cold enough that Jungkook’s breath came out in faint clouds as he crossed the path to the showers. It was 00:34, his usual time. Everyone else would be asleep by now, or at least pretending to be. He liked it that way. No conversations. No laughter. Just the sound of running water and the space to breathe.

He pushed the door open, steam immediately wrapping around him like a blanket. The smell of soap, damp tiles, and faint metal filled the air. He balanced his folded uniform on the bench, his towel draped across one arm, the small bottle of hair gel tucked into his hand out of habit.

Nine years of service had made him steady—his movements measured, his breathing even. He had the posture of someone used to command, shoulders broad and back straight, but his eyes—deep, quiet, thoughtful—carried a kind of softness he rarely showed. Jungkook didn’t talk much around the others. The men respected him for his discipline, for his control. But beneath that composed exterior, there was a quiet kind of shyness he never knew how to express.

He turned toward the showers, expecting the usual emptiness. But the sound of water was already running.

For a second, he froze. That never happened.

His gaze moved toward the source, and through the soft mist he saw someone — one of the commando members, Niko. The man stood under the stream of water, his back turned, soap lathering through his hair. Water rolled down the strong lines of his shoulders, over his arms, disappearing down into the drain.

Jungkook didn’t stare out of curiosity — more out of surprise. It was rare to find someone else here this late, especially in this part of the facility. He hesitated, unsure if he should turn back, but decided against it. He’d showered next to strangers before; this was no different.

He moved quietly to a stall a few feet away, turning on the water. The pipes rattled softly, and warm water hit his skin. He exhaled, feeling the heat loosen the tension from his muscles.

After a while, he spoke — his tone calm, steady, the kind that carried authority without trying to. "Didn’t think anyone else used this place after midnight."

There was no annoyance in his voice, just quiet observation. His eyes stayed forward, watching the steam drift upward as he ran his hands through his hair.

He didn’t expect a response right away; the room was filled with the hum of water and echoes of their movements. There was something grounding about it — two soldiers, both worn from long days of drills and training, sharing a silence that didn’t need to be broken.

Jungkook thought of how rare moments like this were. No commands, no missions, no expectations. Just the sound of water and the faint reflection of another person who probably understood what it meant to be tired down to the bone.

He glanced sideways briefly, not out of curiosity but quiet acknowledgment, a subtle nod that said you’re not alone here. Then he turned back to his own shower, scrubbing at his arms, letting the warm water wash the day off him.

The night stretched on quietly, with only the steady rhythm of water hitting tile — the kind of silence that didn’t need words to mean something.