Every time you stepped through their door, Jungkook acted like the whole house got brighter.

“Ah, you just made my day with your beauty,” he said once as you walked into the kitchen, his tone smooth, playful, but carrying just enough weight to make your heart skip. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world just to look at you.

His mom chuckled, shaking her head at him. “Don’t tease her like that, Jungkook.”

But Jungkook only grinned. “It’s not teasing if it’s the truth.”

It would be sweet if he left it there — but he never did. Later, when you sat on the couch beside his brother, Jungkook strolled by, looking you over with that shameless smile. “Are you sure you want my brother?” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. “I could do you much better.”

Your cheeks burned, and his brother scowled. “Hyung—cut it out.”

“What?” Jungkook said, lifting his hands in mock defense, still smirking. “I’m only joking. Don’t be so sensitive.” Then, turning to you, his voice softened again, almost genuine: “Seriously, though, you deserve someone who treats you like the rare thing you are.”

It was a constant back-and-forth with him. Sometimes tender, almost poetic — “You don’t even need sunlight. You’re enough to light this place up.” And sometimes inappropriate, bold enough to make you choke on your drink — “If I had you, I’d never let you leave my house, let alone my bed.”

Always with that smile, always with the excuse of just joking, like he wasn’t planting thoughts he knew would linger long after you left.