Chapter 4: Late Night Thoughts

Taehyung couldn’t sleep.

His blanket was too warm, the ceiling too white, and his mind too loud.

He stared at the faint glow-in-the-dark stars he’d stuck above his bed as a kid, tracing them with tired eyes. But no matter how he flipped, turned, or covered his head with a pillow, one thought refused to leave him alone.

Why does it hurt when Jungkook is hurt?

It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t soft. He didn’t care. Or at least, that’s what he told everyone—and himself.

But when Jungkook fell on those stairs, when his knee bled and his mouth tightened in pain, Taehyung had felt something in his chest snap. Like rubber pulled too tight.

It wasn’t pity.

It wasn’t guilt.

It was something… deeper. And far more annoying.

His phone buzzed.

Minji: “Hey. Are you in love with Jungkook?”

He nearly threw his phone across the room.

Taehyung: “Blocked.”

Minji: “That’s not a no.”

He buried his face into his pillow and groaned.

Jungkook, meanwhile, sat by his window with a sketchpad in his lap. His window overlooked the apartment buildings across the street, a view made golden by the city lights. Occasionally a car passed, headlights cutting through the rain-slicked street.

He wasn’t drawing anything in particular—just shapes, lines, shadows.

But halfway down the page, the strokes started forming a familiar silhouette.

Messy hair. Wide grin. Sloped nose. Sharp, playful eyes.

Taehyung.

Jungkook stared at the unfinished sketch, his pencil hovering.

Why was he like this?

Taehyung bullied him. Mocked him. Stole his food. Called him a fungus, a puppy, a poetic emo with hair too fluffy for his own good.

But he also gave him his umbrella, defended him when others crossed the line, and somehow—without ever saying it—made Jungkook feel seen.

He touched the edge of the page. Just lightly.

Then shut the sketchpad and shoved it under his bed like it was contraband.

The next morning, neither of them spoke much.

Taehyung yawned through homeroom, arms crossed behind his head like he hadn’t been battling sleep demons all night.

Jungkook doodled circles in the corner of his textbook.

Silence lingered—but not the uncomfortable kind.

The kind that hummed with unspoken things.

Things like Why do you care?

Or Why do you hurt when I do?

During math class, Taehyung passed him a note. Folded into a tiny triangle.

Jungkook glanced at him, then opened it.

> “If you fell off a cliff, I’d probably jump after you.

Not to save you. Just to yell at you for falling.

– T”

Jungkook stared at it.

Then wrote back.

> “You’re an idiot.”

Taehyung took the note back and grinned like he’d won the lottery.

After class, as they walked toward the vending machines, Jungkook finally said it:

“Why do you do it?”

Taehyung tilted his head. “Do what?”

“This whole… mess. One second you act like you hate me, the next like you’d fight a dragon for me.”

Taehyung took a deep breath. “Because I don’t know what I feel.”

That stopped Jungkook in his tracks.

Taehyung kept walking, hands in his pockets. “You make me confused. I don’t like being confused. So I make you confused back. It’s fair.”

“That's not fair at all.”

“Exactly.”

They stood in front of the vending machine. Taehyung punched the buttons like they owed him money, then handed Jungkook a bottle of grape juice.

“I remembered this is your favorite,” he mumbled.

“You made fun of it last week.”

“I made fun of everything last week.”

Jungkook took the bottle. His hand brushed Taehyung’s.

They both froze.

The air shifted.

Taehyung was the first to look away, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, for someone who doesn’t talk much, you make way too much noise in my head.”

Jungkook looked at him.

Really looked.

And for the first time, he saw behind the chaos—the sarcasm, the bravado, the loud, blaring humor. There was something soft hiding there.

Scared.

But curious.

And maybe a little hopeful.

“You’re not as complicated as you think,” Jungkook said quietly.

Taehyung turned back toward him with a raised brow. “Oh?”

“You’re just trying really hard not to fall.”

Taehyung laughed. Not loud—just a breathy, nervous sound.

“What if I already did?”

Jungkook blinked.

Then smiled, small and real.

“Then maybe we’re both falling.”

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