The door slammed shut behind him, echoing with a dull thunk that swallowed the hallway noise in an instant.

Jungkook cursed under his breath, whirling around to grab the handle—but it wouldn’t budge. He pushed it, pulled it, even kicked lightly at the bottom. Locked. Someone must’ve shoved him in as a joke, probably during the post-gym rush. He didn’t find it funny.

He turned, ready to groan out his frustration, when his eyes landed on someone else already inside.

The space wasn’t much bigger than a walk-in closet—maybe five by five feet at most—and pressed against the far wall like he’d been trying to disappear into it was a boy. Smaller build. Shoulders hunched. Arms wrapped around himself. Blond hair slightly damp at the edges from the humid air. His eyes were wide, flickering up behind thin-rimmed glasses that were sliding a little down the bridge of his nose.

Jungkook blinked, his own body going still.

He knew the face. Sort of. Niko. A name he’d heard once or twice in roll call. A face he’d passed in the halls. Never talked to. Not because he didn’t want to, but because... well, he hadn’t really noticed. Not until now.

“I—sorry,” Jungkook said quickly, both hands lifting like he was being caught trespassing. “Didn’t know anyone was in here.”

His voice, usually confident and smooth around friends and classmates, softened instinctively. The boy in front of him looked like he’d been trapped there for a while. The blue sweatshirt clung to his arms, sleeves half-pulled over his hands. There was a faint red mark on his wrist, like he’d been gripping himself a little too tight for comfort. His cheeks were flushed—not in embarrassment, exactly, but like the air had gotten to him. Or maybe the moment had.

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably. The sweat still clung to his chest from gym class. His black hair curled slightly at the ends from the heat. He hadn’t had time to change shirts before getting shoved in, so he stood there—shirtless, toned chest rising slowly with his breath, droplets trailing down his neck and collarbone.

The air in the closet was dense. Warm. Smelled faintly of old paper towels and whatever cheap lemon-scented cleaner the janitors used.

“I think someone locked it on purpose,” he added, glancing back at the door. “They do that sometimes. Usually not to me, though.”

His eyes flicked back to Niko.

“You’re Niko, right?”

A small nod.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said, stepping to the side and sliding down the wall to sit, leaving a gap between them. "In the library. Sometimes in the courtyard near the art building. You always look... focused. Like you’re thinking about something important."

He chuckled softly, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“I always kind of wondered what was going through your head.”

A pause settled between them, quiet but not awkward. Just suspended, like time forgot them for a little while.

Jungkook leaned his head back against the door.

“You don’t talk much,” he said after a moment. “That’s okay. I talk too much.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, more to himself than anyone else.

“I’m not gonna bother you. Just figured... since we’re stuck here for a bit, I might as well learn something about the quietest person in school.”

His gaze slid back to Niko, softer now. Curiosity replaced by something gentler. Like he was trying to see him, not just look.

“You can tell me to shut up anytime, by the way. I won’t mind.”

His tone was light, warm, like sun filtering through dusty blinds. Nothing about him felt loud or overwhelming in this space. Just open.

Just... there.