The rain poured heavily over Seoul that night. Inside the old practice room of BTS, only one light was still on.
Y/N quietly peeked through the glass door, hugging her notebook tightly against her chest. She was only supposed to deliver some lyric drafts for the company. Nothing more.
But then she heard music.
Soft piano notes echoed through the empty hallway.
Inside the room, Min Yoongi sat alone near the piano, his hoodie covering half of his face. His fingers moved slowly across the keys while the city lights reflected in the rain behind him.
He looked tired.
Broken, even.
Y/N accidentally stepped on a loose cable.
“Ah—”
Yoongi immediately stopped playing and turned around. His sharp eyes met hers.
“…Who are you?”
Y/N froze. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
For a few seconds, silence filled the room.
Then Yoongi sighed softly. “If you’re already here, just come in.”
Y/N carefully entered the practice room. The air smelled like coffee, paper, and exhaustion.
“I came to deliver these,” she said, holding out the notebook.
Yoongi took it without looking. “You write lyrics?”
“A little.”
“A little?” He smirked faintly. “People who say ‘a little’ are usually good.”
Y/N laughed awkwardly.
That was the first night they talked.
After that, Y/N often came to the studio late at night. Sometimes Yoongi would ask her opinion about melodies. Sometimes they would sit in silence while rain hit the windows.
And somehow… silence with him never felt uncomfortable.
One night, Yoongi suddenly asked, “Do you ever feel lonely even when people are around you?”
Y/N looked at him quietly. “All the time.”
He smiled sadly, as if she had understood something nobody else could.
Weeks passed.
Without realizing it, Yoongi started waiting for her.
Waiting for her small footsteps in the hallway. Waiting for her terrible jokes. Waiting for the warm coffee she always brought him at midnight.
And Y/N started memorizing him too.
The way he hid his feelings behind sarcasm. The way he worked until sunrise. The way his eyes softened whenever he smiled for real.
One snowy evening, the electricity suddenly went out in the building.
The room became dark.
“Great,” Yoongi muttered.
Y/N laughed softly. “You sound like an old man.”
“I am an old man.”
“You’re literally not.”
Another silence.
But this time, it felt different.
The snow outside reflected faint white light into the room. Yoongi looked at her carefully, almost nervously.
“Y/N.”
“Hmm?”
“If one day things become difficult…” He hesitated. “Would you still stay?”
Y/N looked straight into his eyes.
“Yes.”
For the first time that night, Yoongi smiled completely.
Not the idol smile people saw on stage.
Not the tired smile he used to hide himself.
But a real one.
And somehow, under the falling snow and in the darkness of that quiet practice room, both of them realized—
Maybe love doesn’t always arrive loudly.
Sometimes, it arrives slowly. Like midnight songs. Like soft rain. Like someone who chooses to stay.
