It was another night alone in his apartment.

The place was too big when he wasn’t there — lights low, the city glowing through the windows, dinner untouched and cold on the counter. Your cat was already asleep, curled into a tight ball like it knew better than to wait.

He’d texted earlier. Running late. Work stuff.

He always said that.

Your eyes had just slipped shut when the door finally opened. Soft. Careful. Like he didn’t want to wake you — or be seen. Jungkook stepped inside, movements quiet, practiced.

You heard the window slide open in the kitchen. A faint cough. The click of a lighter. He thought you were asleep.

When he entered the dark living room, you spoke before he noticed you.

“Hey.”

He froze — just for a second.

“Oh—” he cleared his throat, quickly turning his face away. “You’re still up?”

That’s when you caught it. The faint scent of smoke clinging to him. The way he avoided looking at you.