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He saw her before she saw him.
She was standing before her apartment building, one hand in the pocket of her jacket, the other clutching her phone as if it might float away.
“Yeah, Mum, I know,” she was saying, voice low. “I will. I promise I’m taking care of myself.”
A pause, her gaze drifting to nothing in particular.
“No, the job’s good. It’s just … new city, new everything, you know?” Another pause, shorter.
“Love you too.” She exhaled, shoulders loosening just a shade, and ended the call. Browns furrowed together—something was off. Not disastrous. Just… off.
Taehyung leaned forward in the driver’s seat, watching. When she turned toward his car, her whole face lit up with a smile, a wave, instant lightness. She slid into the passenger seat like nothing had happened. Not fake. Just… practised.
“Hi,” she said, warm and a touch too upbeat. “Sorry, were you waiting long?” He shook his head. “Not at all.”
He didn’t ask about the call; he could feel the tension in her shoulders. In the short time he’d known Y/n, he’d learned that not every door needed knocking. Some opened simply by waiting nearby.
He eased the car into gear— but not toward the restaurant.
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At first, she stared out the window, thoughts louder than the city. Rain streaked the glass in fine silver lines. As they crossed the bridge over the Han, the city lights shimmered on the river like scattered coins. Taehyung slid his free hand across the console. Her fingers found his automatically. Warm. Quiet. They stayed linked for the rest of the way.
“Wait… this isn’t Itaewon,” she murmured as neon gave way to hushed side streets.
“Nope. We’re going somewhere quieter,” he said, thumb brushing her knuckles.
By the time he parked, the rain had softened into a light mist. He rounded the car, opened her door, and held the umbrella overhead as they walked — fingers still laced, steps slow and quiet. The world felt smaller in the best way.
When they reached the entrance, he held the door for her. Y/n stepped into the softly lit lobby, where the scent of cedar, clean linen, and something faintly citrusy hung in the air—the kind of fragrance that made a place feel quietly luxurious. A doorman sat behind the reception desk, flipping through a magazine, giving them a polite nod without asking questions. No grand chandelier, no marble columns — just clean lines, warm lights, and the kind of calm that didn’t need to show off to be impressive.
Upstairs, the hallway was carpeted and calm. She didn’t say much, but he could feel her easing. One breath at a time.
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His apartment was dim, soft, smelling faintly of coffee grounds and cedar. Y/n took off her shoes, eyes skimming the space, processing, not confused.
She took a slow lap around the room, fingertips trailing along the edge of the shelves and paintings. Noticed the record player, the stack of books. The worn-in leather armchair, which looked like it had stories. Her posture softened just a little. Her fingers brushed a small houseplant on the windowsill — an unconscious habit, like she needed to prove it was real.
Taehyung nodded toward the hallway. “Make yourself at home.”
While she wandered deeper inside, he ducked into the kitchen, tapped a mellow jazz playlist with no vocals, just soft drums and late-night sax—and fired up the espresso machine. A minute later, he emerged with two steaming mugs.
“No dress code,” he said, handing her the one that smelled of toasted hazelnuts. “No wait‑list. And the host is extremely handsome.”
That earned a genuine laugh. “Is this your way of admitting you didn’t want to go out either?”
“Not exactly,” he grinned. “It’s my way of saying I wanted to be out with you, not with your ‘I’m fine’ smile.”
She wrapped both hands around the hazelnut latte, the warmth seeping in. “Had a call with my mum. Nothing terrible. Just… when someone sums up your entire existence in two sentences and suddenly your brain’s exhausted?”
“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “I know. That’s why I did.” She smiles sadly.
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The date ended up being instant ramen in mismatched bowls, eaten cross-legged on the rug while jazz whispered overhead. They ranked each song: “This one’s trying too hard.” or “This one feels like falling asleep during a movie.”
They worked their way through a plate of cinnamon cookies he’d bought the day before — slightly uneven, still soft in the middle, dusted with sugar.
Somewhere around the eighth jazz track, a brassy, dramatic saxophone solo kicked in.
Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “This one sounds like the soundtrack to a dog dramatically realising it’s been left at the vet.”
Y/n laughed. “That’s… weirdly accurate.”
“Actually, it kind of reminds me of Jungkook’s dog — he’s huge. Like, I didn’t know dogs came in gym membership size.”
Taehyung laughed. “That thing’s not a dog, it’s a portable sofa.”
She grinned. “I kind of want one like that someday.”
He mock-gasped. “Absolutely not. I refuse to live in fear of being flattened every time I sit down.”
She nudged him with her knee. “You’d love it and you know it.”
He gave her a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. But only if it sleeps on your side of the bed.”
“Deal,” she said, already smiling in that soft, faraway way.
And even though he kept teasing, he knew — deep down — that if she ever really wanted one, he’d learn to love him and be the second favourite in the house. Because when it came to her, he’d say yes to just about anything.
Then the music faded to a softer tune — something quieter, almost lullaby-like. They both went quiet, simply listening, letting the rhythm fill the space where conversation had paused. In that hush, her body eased. Her breathing grew slower, more even.
And somewhere between this and him telling her about a dream in which a giant flying croissant chased him through Myeong-dong. Y/n fell asleep. Just like that — curled up sideways on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder.
Taehyung didn’t move for a while. He just looked at her. Her features were softer now. Unarmed. Peaceful in a way that made his chest ache.
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Taehyung stayed still for a while, letting her sleep. Her breathing slowed, her brow not furrowed anymore. He wasn’t in a rush to move.
Eventually, he shifted — just a little — trying not to wake her. But her eyes fluttered open, dazed and soft.
“Did I fall asleep?” she asked, voice rough with sleep, lifting her head.
“Only for a bit,” he said, smiling. “You missed your rating of the sad trumpet solo.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Tragic.”
He brushed a bit of hair from her cheek, his voice soft. “Wanna move to the bed?”
Y/n blinked, still a little dazed from sleep. “I should probably head home.”
Taehyung blinked, surprised. “Now? It’s past midnight. And raining.”
She pushed herself upright, slowly. “It’s okay. I’ll just call a taxi.” She yawned and added, a little awkwardly, “I wasn’t planning to crash here or anything…”
It’s alright,” he said softly. “You were just tired.”
Y/n was already holding her phone, her thumb idly tracing small circles across the screen — not unlocking it, not tapping anything. Just moving. Her eyes flicked between the screen and the window. “I just… didn’t plan to stay, you know?”
“I know,” he said. “But you don’t have to rush off just because you didn’t plan for this.”
She hesitated, jaw tightening slightly. “It’s not that I don’t want to stay— I just don’t want to… assume.”
“You’re not assuming anything,” he said, his voice steady.
“You’re tired. Just stay — no pressure, no expectations.”
Y/n looked at him, caught somewhere between grateful and uncertain.
“I’m not offering to drive you home,” he added, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Because I’d rather you stayed.”
Silence stretched between them for a beat, soft and intimate. Then, finally, she let out a breath she’d been holding.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “But only if you have something more comfortable than what I wore earlier.”
He grinned and got up, already heading for the bedroom. “Deal.”
In his bedroom, he opened a dresser drawer and pulled out one of his oversized black T-shirts, offering it to her like it was something important, not just fabric, but comfort.
“You can wear this,” he said and added a pair of shorts.
She changed in the bathroom and emerged bare-faced, wearing the shirt and a pair of his shorts. Somehow, she looked more herself than ever.
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The bed waited in the centre of the room—unmade, inviting, like it had been expecting company. “Which side...?” she asked.
Taehyung gave a small shrug, his voice easy. “I usually sleep on the right, but I don’t mind switching.”
She nodded slowly and moved toward the left side. Her movements were careful, deliberate, as she slipped under the blanket and lay down, her back to the other half of the bed. Taehyung circled to his side, climbed in, and settled in beside her.
He shifted a little closer, arm draping gently around her waist, letting her feel the steadiness of his presence without pressing.
“Comfy?” he asked, his voice a hush against the quiet.
There was a pause.
“Actually… no,” she murmured.
She turned in his arms, moving slowly, until she was facing him—her forehead close to his mouth, her breath warm against his chest. His hand adjusted instinctively, splaying over her back, holding her just a little closer now.
She exhaled, this time deeper. More settled.
No one said goodnight. The hush between rain-ticked windows did the talking—steady breaths syncing, warmth pooling where their knees tangled beneath the covers. Within minutes, she was asleep again. Taehyung pressed a slow kiss into her hair, eyes closing. And in that gentle dark, they drifted off together, wrapped in each other’s quiet, the promise of tomorrow resting easy between their joined hands.