The first time you touched

POV: Taehyung (Age 23)

Timeline: Week 3 – Spring

Location: Rooftop of art building, night

Meeting: 2 of 7

---

It started with a sound.

A muffled footstep.

Not loud enough to be intentional. Not quiet enough to be ignored.

Taehyung looked up from his sketchpad, blinking as his eyes adjusted from paper to skyline. The moon sat low, hanging like a smudged fingerprint on a black canvas. City lights flickered, voices drifted faintly up from street level.

And there — by the edge of the rooftop — stood the boy.

The same boy.

From the train station.

From the bookstore.

Like some ghost slipping gently through his life. Not haunting. Just… arriving.

Again.

---

He didn’t say anything at first.

Neither did Taehyung.

There was a hum between them — not silence, exactly, but a waiting. Like the moment before a match is struck.

The boy looked at him. Not curious. Not cautious.

But like he already knew something.

And then he spoke.

“Hey,” he said softly, almost apologetically. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

His voice.

That voice.

Taehyung didn’t realize how much he’d wanted to hear it until that very moment.

---

“You’re not interrupting,” he replied, standing slowly. “I didn’t think anyone else came up here.”

The boy smiled. It was tired, but warm.

“I don’t usually,” he said. “But I knew you would.”

Taehyung blinked.

“What?”

“Nothing,” the boy said quickly, brushing his hand through his hair like he’d said too much. “I just… saw the lights. Figured someone was sketching.”

“How’d you know I sketch?”

“I’ve seen you before,” he said.

A beat.

Taehyung’s heart skipped.

He wanted to ask where. When. How many times.

But instead, he just asked, “What’s your name?”

The boy looked at him for a long second — like he was choosing whether to lie, or run, or disappear into the sky.

But then he said:

“Jungkook.”

---

Jungkook.

It fit him. All edges and echoes. A name that sounded like it should be remembered.

Taehyung whispered it under his breath once, as if trying it on.

Jungkook watched him closely.

"And you?" he asked.

"Taehyung."

Jungkook smiled, softer this time.

“I know.”

---

Taehyung felt it then — a shift in the air. Like gravity was suddenly paying too much attention to the space between them.

He stepped closer. Not to be brave. Just to feel something real.

And Jungkook didn’t step back.

Their shoulders were almost touching now.

And even though the city stretched endlessly beneath them, Taehyung couldn’t look anywhere but at him.

“Do you come up here often?” Jungkook asked quietly.

Taehyung shrugged. “Only when I can’t sleep.”

“Why tonight?”

“I had a dream,” Taehyung said before he could stop himself. “I saw someone I didn’t know. But I woke up… missing him.”

He let the confession hang between them.

Jungkook didn’t look surprised.

He looked shattered.

---

Then Jungkook turned slightly — and looked at him in a way no one ever had before. Not like a stranger. Not like a lover.

But like a goodbye.

And before Taehyung could blink—

Jungkook kissed him.

---

It was quick. Soft. An inhale.

But it burned through Taehyung’s body like a secret.

He froze.

Not because it was wrong. But because it felt familiar.

Like something he’d lived before.

Like something he’d forgotten.

His heart thudded wildly, and he looked up at Jungkook — startled, speechless.

And Jungkook just whispered:

“You always flinch the first time.”

---

“What?”

But Jungkook shook his head.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean— It’s just…”

He stepped back.

“It’s hard. Pretending I don’t know you.”

Taehyung was quiet. Not because he didn’t believe him. But because some part of him did.

“I feel like I’ve been chasing you through my dreams,” he admitted.

Jungkook looked down. His shoulders trembled slightly.

Taehyung wanted to reach out. To ask what he meant. To ask how they knew each other, where he’d seen him, why he looked at Taehyung like he was the only thing left.

But he didn’t.

Because somehow, words felt too small for what was happening.

---

A breeze swept across the rooftop. Jungkook moved toward the railing, eyes on the stars.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For kissing you.”

“I’m not,” Taehyung whispered.

Jungkook turned.

And for a second, it looked like he might cry.

---

They didn’t talk much after that.

They just stood side by side, watching the night breathe.

When Taehyung glanced over, Jungkook’s eyes were closed.

But his lips were moving.

Silently.

As if he were repeating something he needed to remember.

Or something he knew he’d forget.

---

That night, Taehyung lay awake, fingers pressed to his lips, sketchbook open beside him.

He didn’t draw Jungkook’s face.

He drew the kiss.

The shadow of it. The shape of memory.

A silhouette under moonlight.

---

You always flinch the first time.

Why did that sound like a memory too?

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