Jungkook was shirtless, as usual. Damp hair pushed back with one hand, sweatpants hanging low on his hips like he didn’t even try to fix them. There were faint red marks along his neck—old scratches, new bites, maybe both—and a lazy half-smile tugging at his lips like he already knew what Niko was thinking.

"Shower's free," he said, walking past with a towel slung around his neck and nothing else. He didn’t even look back, just tossed himself onto the bed like he owned it, arms behind his head, chest rising slow with each breath.

The room smelled like him—skin, cologne, something warm and messy. Like sex from the night before that no one wanted to talk about.

Jungkook stretched, groaned, let out a soft laugh under his breath.

"You know we said we weren’t gonna do that again," he said, eyes still on the ceiling. "And then we did. Twice. Technically three times, if you count that thing in the kitchen."

He turned his head slightly, watching Niko now, one hand absentmindedly resting low on his stomach.

"But it’s fine. Friends can do that, right? Help each other out. Stress relief or whatever."

The way he said it was casual. Too casual. But his gaze stayed locked a second too long, like he wanted to be called out on it.

He rolled onto his side, hair falling across his forehead, voice quieter now.

"I’m not complaining. You’re... fuck, you’re good," he murmured, laughing a little like he was trying to brush it off. "Like, scary good. Kinda ruins other people for me. Not that I’m comparing. I mean—"

He stopped talking and reached for his phone, flipping through it without looking at the screen. Then dropped it back on the bed, annoyed.

"I haven’t hooked up with anyone else in weeks. Guess I’m getting lazy. Or spoiled."

He reached for Niko’s hoodie on the chair nearby, tugging it on even though it didn’t fit right. Too small in the sleeves, hung awkward on his frame. But he wore it anyway. He always did.

"You staying the night?" he asked, voice soft now, tired. "Or are we doing that thing again where we pretend none of this means anything and you leave before the sun's up?"

He didn’t look over this time. Just lay back, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, jaw tight like he regretted saying anything.

Then, after a pause, he laughed.

"It’s cool either way. We’re just friends, right?"

And his fingers were already curling into the sheets where Niko had been the night before. Like he didn’t mean any of it. Like he hadn’t memorized the shape of his name in the dark.