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In 2023, Seojin High was the kind of school that thrived on reputations.
Kim Seokjin had one before people even learned his name.
He was the popular one—the effortlessly handsome guy with broad shoulders and an easy smile, the kind teachers trusted and students admired. He played sports well enough to impress, laughed loudly in hallways, and somehow made even detentions feel like a social event. People said things about him in whispers: out of your league, too nice to be real, definitely knows he’s good-looking.
Jin pretended not to hear any of it.
Kim Namjoon, on the other hand, had a reputation that came with bullet points.
School captain. Debate team. Student council. Top of the class. Tall, awkward, brilliant. He wore his blazer properly, spoke carefully during assemblies, and had a habit of scribbling lyrics and quotes in the margins of his notebooks. People liked him—respected him—but they also teased him. Nerd, they’d say affectionately. Walking encyclopedia. Captain Buzzkill.
Namjoon didn’t mind. Much.
They were juniors when their paths finally collided.
It happened on a Monday morning, the kind that smelled like rain and burnt coffee from the teachers’ lounge. Namjoon stood at the front of the assembly hall, fingers gripping the sides of the podium as he scanned his speech one last time. His glasses slipped down his nose as usual.
“Deep breath,” he muttered to himself.
That’s when the doors creaked open.
Late arrivals filtered in, drawing mild irritation from the teachers—and complete distraction from half the students. Jin walked in like he owned the place, blazer slung loosely over one shoulder, hair slightly damp from the rain. He leaned over to whisper something to a friend, laughter bubbling out of him without effort.
Namjoon looked up.
And forgot his next line.
It wasn’t just that Jin was handsome—Namjoon had seen handsome before. It was the energy. Jin filled space without trying, like gravity bent a little around him. His smile felt loud even from across the room.
“…and uh,” Namjoon stammered into the mic, blinking rapidly as he looked back down at his paper. A few students snickered.
Jin’s attention snapped forward at the sound. His eyes landed on Namjoon, curious now. The school captain—tall, broad-shouldered, nervous despite himself. Jin tilted his head, something warm and amused sparking in his chest.
Cute, he thought absently.
The assembly continued, but something had shifted.
Later that day, fate—or maybe the universe with a sense of humour—threw them together again.
“Captain Kim?” Jin called out as Namjoon stacked papers in the student council room.
Namjoon turned. “Yes—oh. Hi.”
Up close, Jin was worse. Thick lips. Wide shoulders. That stupidly kind expression.
“I got told I have to join some committee,” Jin said, grinning. “They said you’d explain it.”
Namjoon cleared his throat. “Student events committee. You missed the sign-up briefing.”
“Yeah, my bad,” Jin said easily. “So… what do I do?”
Namjoon launched into an explanation, words tumbling out faster than he meant them to. Jin listened—actually listened—leaning against a desk, eyes focused, nodding along.
“Huh,” Jin said when Namjoon finally stopped. “You’re really smart.”
Namjoon froze. “…Thank you?”
Jin smiled wider. “Guess I’ll be seeing you a lot then, Captain.”
As Jin walked out, Namjoon stood there far longer than necessary, heart thudding for reasons he couldn’t yet name.
Neither of them knew it then.
But that was the moment—
when loud met quiet,
when popular met purposeful,
when everything began.
It started subtly.
Too subtly for Namjoon to notice at first.
Jin, however, noticed immediately.
The next time Jin saw Namjoon was in the library—of all places. Jin had only gone in because it was raining again and his friends had dragged him there to kill time before practice. He expected silence, boredom, maybe a nap.
Instead, he spotted Namjoon sitting at a long table near the windows, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, a pencil tucked behind his ear. Books were stacked around him like a fortress. He was scribbling furiously, stopping every now and then to mutter something under his breath before writing again.
Jin slowed without meaning to.
Namjoon looked… different here. Less polished. Less captain. There was something magnetic about how focused he was, brows slightly furrowed, lips moving silently as he read.
“Hey,” Jin said before he could overthink it.
Namjoon looked up, startled. His eyes widened just a bit. “Oh—Jin. Hi.”
“You live here now or something?” Jin teased lightly.
Namjoon huffed a small laugh. “Feels like it sometimes.”
Jin glanced at the books. “That looks… painful.”
“It’s actually interesting,” Namjoon replied, then paused. “I mean—if you like this sort of thing.”
Jin grinned. “Convince me.”
So Namjoon did.
He explained whatever he was studying with surprising enthusiasm, hands moving as he talked, eyes lighting up when Jin asked questions—real ones, not just polite nods. Jin found himself leaning closer, not because he couldn’t hear, but because he didn’t want to miss anything.
That was the first crack.
After that, they kept running into each other.
In the hallways, where Jin would slow his steps just enough to fall into pace beside Namjoon.
In the cafeteria, where Namjoon would suddenly find Jin sitting across from him, stealing fries and asking about student council drama like it was a reality show.
At meetings, where Jin stopped treating the committee like a chore and started actually participating—mostly because Namjoon noticed when he did.
And Namjoon… changed.
Not drastically. Just enough.
He started smiling more. Laughing louder. Forgetting his words less often around Jin, then more often when Jin looked at him for too long. He’d catch Jin watching him sometimes—really watching—and it made his chest feel tight in a way he didn’t have a name for yet.
Jin definitely noticed that.
Namjoon wasn’t loud like him. He didn’t dominate rooms or pull attention effortlessly. Instead, he held it—steady, thoughtful, grounding. Jin found himself seeking him out without realizing it, his usual crowd fading into background noise whenever Namjoon was nearby.
One afternoon, as they walked out of school together under a clearing sky, Jin nudged Namjoon’s shoulder lightly.
“You know,” Jin said, “you’re not boring like people say.”
Namjoon blinked. “People say I’m boring?”
Jin laughed. “Only idiots.”
Namjoon smiled at that—soft, genuine—and something in Jin’s chest flipped.
That was when Jin realized it.
The school captain wasn’t just interesting.
He was captivating.
And Namjoon, completely unaware of the effect he was having, just kept being himself—quietly, steadily drawing Jin closer without ever meaning to.
Everyone knew when Kim Seokjin hosted a party.
It wasn’t just whispered about—it was announced. Group chats lit up. Hallways buzzed. Even teachers seemed to sense it, like a shift in the air. Jin’s house, big and just empty enough on weekends, became the place. No rules, loud music, laughter spilling into the street.
Everyone was invited.
Which is how Namjoon found himself standing at his locker on Friday afternoon, trying very hard to look normal while Jin leaned against the metal beside him like he belonged there.
“Party tonight,” Jin said casually, twirling a key around his finger. “My place.”
Namjoon adjusted his backpack strap. “I, uh… I don’t really—”
“You’re coming,” Jin interrupted, not unkindly. Then, softer, more intentional: “I want you there.”
That made Namjoon pause.
Jin tilted his head, studying him. “You don’t have to stay long. Just… show up.”
Namjoon hesitated, every instinct screaming not your scene. Loud music. Crowds. Drinking. All things he usually avoided.
But then Jin smiled at him—slow, knowing, almost daring.
“I’ll think about it,” Namjoon said.
Jin grinned. “Good enough.”
For the rest of the day, Namjoon told himself he wouldn’t go.
By the time evening rolled around, he was standing in front of his mirror, pulling on a black hoodie and baggy jeans, heart pounding like he was doing something reckless.
“Just for a bit,” he muttered, grabbing his keys.
—
Jin’s house was already alive when he arrived.
Music thumped through the walls, bass vibrating under Jin’s feet as he laughed with a group near the kitchen island. The lights were dim, warm, bodies packed together, movement everywhere. Jin moved through it all effortlessly, silk button-up clinging to him, barely buttoned and catching the light every time he shifted. Black pants, drink in hand, confidence wrapped around him like a second skin.
He greeted everyone—friends, classmates, people he barely knew—with the same easy charm.
Another drink appeared in his hand. Then another.
He was mid-conversation, laughing loudly, when something tugged at his attention.
The front door opened.
Jin turned instinctively.
Namjoon stood there, just inside the doorway, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like he was bracing himself. He scanned the room, eyes wide, taking in the noise and chaos.
Black hoodie. Baggy jeans. No effort to impress.
Jin’s smile slowed into a smirk.
Oh.
He excused himself without explanation, weaving through the crowd, eyes never leaving Namjoon. When Namjoon finally noticed him approaching, he straightened instinctively.
“You came,” Jin said, stopping in front of him.
Namjoon nodded, pushing his glasses up. “I said I’d think about it.”
Jin’s gaze flicked over him, unapologetic. “You look good.”
Namjoon flushed instantly. “You—uh. You too.”
Jin laughed softly, lifting his drink. “Come on, Captain. I’ll keep you from being swallowed alive.”
As Jin reached out and tugged him gently into the party, Namjoon realized—too late—that agreeing to come might’ve been the most dangerous decision he’d made all year.
And Jin, watching the way Namjoon followed him without resistance, knew one thing for sure:
He was very glad he’d asked.
Jin started him off slow.
“Drink?” Jin asked, already holding out a small glass.
Namjoon eyed it like it might bite him. “I don’t usually—”
“One,” Jin said, softer now, leaning in so the music swallowed the rest of the room. “I’ll stay with you.”
That did it.
Namjoon took the shot.
He coughed immediately, face scrunching up as Jin burst out laughing, hand coming up to steady his shoulder. “Wow, Captain. You okay?”
“That’s—strong,” Namjoon managed, blinking.
Jin grinned. “You’ll survive.”
Somehow, one shot turned into two. Then three. Jin paced him carefully, teasing but never pushing, handing him water in between like he knew exactly where the line was. The tension in Namjoon’s shoulders eased little by little, laughter coming more easily, his replies quicker, wittier.
Jin watched the change with open fascination.
“This,” Jin said proudly, slinging an arm around Namjoon’s shoulders, “is Kim Namjoon. School captain. Secretly funny. Criminally underrated.”
Namjoon flushed as Jin pulled him toward a group of friends. “Hi—sorry—nice to meet you,” he said, bowing his head slightly.
Jin’s friends greeted him warmly, curious but kind, and Jin stayed close the entire time—hand still on Namjoon’s shoulder, occasionally squeezing like reassurance. Namjoon didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned in.
Later—much later, when the lights felt softer and the music louder—Jin grabbed Namjoon’s wrist.
“Dance floor,” Jin declared.
Namjoon laughed nervously. “I don’t dance.”
“You sway,” Jin corrected, already dragging him along.
The crowd swallowed them whole. Bodies moved around them, lights flashing, bass thudding through Namjoon’s chest. Jin turned to face him, laughing, hair slightly messy now, cheeks flushed from drinks and heat.
“Relax,” Jin said. “Just feel it.”
Namjoon tried.
And then—without fully realizing it—his hands settled at Jin’s waist. Light at first. Unsure.
Jin froze.
Not because he didn’t like it.
Because he really liked it.
His face went warm instantly, heat rushing up his neck as he looked up at Namjoon. Namjoon’s eyes widened too, like he’d only just realized what he was doing.
“I—sorry,” Namjoon started, hands twitching like he might pull away.
“Don’t,” Jin said quickly, voice softer than he intended.
They stayed like that—too close, music pulsing between them, the world narrowing to shared breaths and stolen glances. Jin swallowed, heart racing, suddenly very aware of how steady Namjoon’s hands were, how careful.
For the first time that night, Jin wasn’t performing.
He was feeling.
And Namjoon, warm and smiling down at him, was no longer just the school captain.
He was the boy holding him together in the middle of the noise.
The music blurred into something distant.
Jin wasn’t sure who moved first—only that the space between them kept shrinking. His forehead brushed Namjoon’s chest, then his shoulder, and finally he tilted his head up, eyes flicking to Namjoon’s lips before he could stop himself.
Namjoon noticed.
His breath hitched, surprise flashing across his face just a second before Jin leaned in.
Their lips met—soft, hesitant, like both of them were checking if this was real.
Namjoon froze for half a heartbeat.
Then his hands tightened around Jin’s waist, pulling him closer, grounding himself there like he was afraid Jin might disappear. Jin felt it immediately—the certainty in the grip—and his confidence surged back. He lifted one hand, cupping Namjoon’s face gently, thumb brushing along his jaw.
The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, nothing rushed or careless. Just heat and curiosity and the quiet understanding that something important was happening.
The room could’ve been on fire and Jin wouldn’t have noticed.
When Jin finally pulled back, both of them were breathing a little harder. Namjoon’s eyes were dark behind his glasses, stunned but unmistakably there.
“Jin—” Namjoon started.
Jin didn’t give him time to overthink.
He took Namjoon’s wrist, fingers lacing together without hesitation. “Come with me.”
Namjoon let himself be led.
They slipped through the crowd, up the stairs, the noise of the party fading with each step until it was just their footsteps and the sound of their breathing. Jin pushed open his bedroom door and pulled Namjoon inside, closing it softly behind them.
The room was dim, quiet—safe.
Jin turned to face him, heartbeat loud in his ears. For the first time that night, he felt nervous.
Namjoon swallowed, eyes never leaving Jin. “I didn’t think you’d—”
“I did,” Jin said honestly. Then softer, almost shy now, “I’ve been wanting to.”
Namjoon smiled—a real one, warm and disarming—and stepped closer.
Whatever this was, it had already crossed the point of no return.
Jin didn’t give himself time to think.
He leaned in again, lips finding Namjoon’s like it was the most natural thing in the world. This time there was no hesitation—just warmth and familiarity blooming far too quickly for something so new. Jin guided him backward, gentle but sure, until the backs of Namjoon’s legs bumped into the bed.
Jin pulled away just long enough to whisper, “Sit.”
Namjoon did—immediately—hands braced on the mattress, eyes never leaving Jin’s face. There was something open in his expression now, something quietly stunned, like he was afraid to blink and lose the moment.
Jin swallowed.
He stepped closer, knees pressing in, and slowly climbed onto Namjoon’s lap, straddling him carefully. The movement was unhurried, deliberate. Namjoon’s hands hovered at Jin’s sides, unsure where they were allowed to be, breath shallow.
For a heartbeat, they just looked at each other.
Then Namjoon leaned up and kissed him again.
This one was different.
Deeper. More certain. Not rushed—but full, like both of them had finally stopped holding back the question they’d been circling for weeks. Jin let out a soft sound of surprise, hands coming up to Namjoon’s shoulders as he kissed back, matching him easily.
The world outside Jin’s bedroom disappeared completely.
When they finally pulled apart, foreheads touching, both of them were breathing a little harder—smiling like they’d stumbled onto something precious without meaning to.
Namjoon’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “I’ve… never felt this way before.”
Jin smiled, soft and real, thumb brushing lightly along Namjoon’s jaw.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me neither.”
And in that quiet room, sitting tangled together on the edge of Jin’s bed, it felt like the beginning of something they didn’t yet have words for—but already knew they didn’t want to let go of.
Jin’s fingers moved to the buttons of his silk shirt.
Namjoon noticed immediately.
“Jin—” he started, eyes widening as one button came undone… then another. The fabric loosened, slipping just enough to reveal warm skin beneath. Namjoon froze completely, hands still resting uselessly at his sides, brain clearly short-circuiting.
Jin paused, watching him.
“…You’re not gonna do anything?” Jin asked, amused more than annoyed.
Namjoon swallowed hard. “I—I don’t know what I’m supposed to—”
Jin sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes with a soft laugh. “You’re impossible.”
Before Namjoon could react, Jin grabbed his wrists gently but firmly, guiding his hands down and resting them at Jin’s waist—bare, warm, real. Namjoon’s breath hitched at the contact, fingers instinctively curling like they finally understood what they were meant to do.
“There,” Jin murmured.
Then Jin leaned in again.
The kiss was slower at first, grounding, before deepening—full of everything they hadn’t said yet. Namjoon responded without thinking this time, arms tightening just enough to pull Jin closer.
They shifted together, balance tipping, until Namjoon fell back onto the bed with a soft laugh of surprise. Jin followed him easily, bracing himself above Namjoon, faces inches apart now.
For a moment, they just stared at each other—breathing the same air, hearts racing in sync.
Jin smiled, softer than Namjoon had ever seen him.
“Hey,” Jin whispered.
Namjoon smiled back, dazed. “Hey.”
And in that quiet, suspended moment, it felt like the rest of the world—school, titles, expectations—had vanished completely, leaving only the two of them and whatever this was becoming.
Morning came softly.
Sunlight filtered through the half-open curtains, pale and warm, spilling across the room and slowly pulling Namjoon out of sleep. He blinked, disoriented at first—until he became painfully aware of the weight against his chest.
Jin.
Shirtless, hair messy, face relaxed in a way Namjoon had never seen before. Jin was curled into him, one arm wrapped tightly around Namjoon’s waist like he was afraid to let go, his cheek pressed against Namjoon’s shoulder. The sheets were tangled around their legs, and when Namjoon glanced down, he noticed clothes scattered carelessly across the floor—hoodie, silk shirt, jeans—evidence of a night that still felt unreal.
Namjoon’s breath caught.
He didn’t move. Didn’t dare.
Instead, he just… watched. The slow rise and fall of Jin’s chest. The faint crease between his brows even in sleep. How comfortable he looked there, like he belonged.
Something warm settled in Namjoon’s chest—steady, certain.
After a moment, Jin stirred.
His grip tightened briefly around Namjoon’s waist before his eyes fluttered open. For a second, he looked confused—then his gaze focused, locking onto Namjoon’s.
“Oh,” Jin murmured, voice rough with sleep.
Namjoon smiled softly. “Morning.”
Jin didn’t say anything else. He leaned in instead, pressing a gentle kiss to Namjoon’s lips—slow, unhurried, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Namjoon kissed him back just as easily, heart pounding for an entirely different reason than the night before.
Jin pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes warm and serious now.
“I really like you, Namjoon.”
Namjoon didn’t hesitate.
“I really like you too, Jin.”
Jin smiled—wide and real—and tucked himself closer, resting his forehead against Namjoon’s chest. Outside, the world was waking up, but inside that room, everything felt quiet and right.
And for the first time, neither of them felt the need to rush what came next.
Getting dressed took longer than it should have.
Not because it was complicated—but because Jin kept getting distracted.
“Stop smiling at me like that,” Namjoon muttered, tugging his hoodie over his head.
“I can’t help it,” Jin replied easily, buttoning a clean shirt this time, eyes bright. “You look cute in the morning.”
Namjoon groaned. “You’re impossible.”
They made their way downstairs together, shoulders brushing, fingers occasionally bumping like accidents that weren’t really accidents at all.
The moment they reached the living room, both of them stopped.
Silence.
Then—
“Oh my god,” Jin said, staring.
The house looked like a small hurricane had passed through. Empty cups everywhere. Snack wrappers crushed into the carpet. Shoes abandoned in the middle of the floor. A blanket hanging halfway off the couch like it had given up.
Namjoon blinked. “You… hosted a war.”
Jin laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that checks out.”
Before Jin could say anything else, Namjoon was already moving—picking up cups, stacking plates, gathering trash with surprising efficiency.
“You don’t have to—” Jin started.
“It’s fine,” Namjoon said gently. “I don’t mind.”
Jin watched him for a second, something soft settling in his chest. Then he grabbed a trash bag. “Okay. But I’m helping.”
They cleaned together easily, like they’d done this a hundred times before. Namjoon handed Jin things without looking. Jin nudged Namjoon aside to reach the counter, brushing past him just a little too slowly. Every so often, Jin leaned in to press a quick kiss to Namjoon’s cheek or temple, earning flustered smiles in return.
“You’re very good at this,” Jin teased, wiping down the table.
Namjoon shrugged. “Leadership skills.”
Jin snorted. “Wow. Captain even cleans attractively.”
Namjoon shook his head, laughing, then froze when Jin leaned in and kissed him softly—right there in the middle of the messy living room.
“Cheesy,” Namjoon said.
“You love it,” Jin replied, eyes sparkling.
Namjoon didn’t deny it.
They exchanged glances constantly—small smiles, lingering looks, quiet understanding passing between them like a shared secret. Soft touches followed them everywhere: Jin’s hand at Namjoon’s lower back, Namjoon’s fingers brushing Jin’s wrist, knuckles grazing as they reached for the same thing.
By the time the house looked liveable again, Jin flopped onto the couch dramatically. “I think I deserve an award.”
Namjoon sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder. “For hosting chaos?”
“For pulling the school captain,” Jin corrected smugly.
Namjoon laughed, leaning into him. “You’re ridiculous.”
Jin wrapped an arm around Namjoon, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Yeah,” he said softly. “But you like me.”
Namjoon smiled, heart full. “Yeah. I really do.”
Senior year started with heat.
Not the dramatic kind—just that late-summer warmth that clung to skin and made everything feel slightly unreal, like the world hadn’t fully woken up yet. Seojin High buzzed with the familiar chaos of the first day back: lockers slamming, voices overlapping, teachers shouting reminders no one listened to.
Namjoon adjusted the strap of his backpack as he walked through the front gates.
And immediately smiled.
Jin was already there.
Leaning against the steps like he owned them—because, honestly, he kind of did—Jin wore his confidence easily. One hand held an iced coffee, the other shoved into his pocket. When his eyes landed on Namjoon, his entire face lit up, like the past year hadn’t dulled that feeling even a little.
Namjoon didn’t hesitate. He walked straight to him.
“Morning,” Jin said, voice soft despite the noise around them.
“Morning,” Namjoon replied, lips curving up without permission.
They stood close—too close to be subtle—but subtlety hadn’t been their thing in a long time.
It had been a year since that party. Since stolen glances turned into stolen kisses. Since late-night talks and shared mornings and learning how to be with someone without losing themselves.
They’d broken up once.
Just once.
Over something small—stress, expectations, the weight of being seen. It lasted less than twenty-four hours. Jin had shown up at Namjoon’s house the next day, eyes tired, voice honest.
“I hate this,” he’d said.
“Me too,” Namjoon had replied.
And that had been that.
Now? Everyone knew.
They were official in the way that mattered—hands linked in hallways, Jin slinging an arm over Namjoon’s shoulders without a second thought, Namjoon waiting for Jin after class like it was instinct. Teachers pretended not to notice the way Jin always sat just a little too close. Friends definitely noticed the way they’d disappear together sometimes.
Behind the gym.
The stairwell by the science wing.
The quiet corner of the library no one ever used.
Soft kisses. Smiles pressed into skin. Laughter muffled into shoulders.
“Captain Kim,” Jin teased now, tapping Namjoon’s chest lightly. “Ready for your final year?”
Namjoon sighed dramatically. “Don’t call me that.”
Jin grinned. “Never.”
The bell rang, loud and insistent.
Jin leaned in quickly, brushing a brief kiss against Namjoon’s lips—nothing dramatic, just theirs—before pulling back like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“See you after third period?” Jin asked.
Namjoon nodded. “As always.”
They split off toward their classes, but Namjoon glanced back once—just in time to catch Jin doing the same.
They smiled at each other across the crowded hallway.
Senior year had officially begun.
And whatever came next, they were walking into it together.
It happened during lunch.
Namjoon noticed him first.
Not because the kid was loud or causing trouble—actually, the opposite. A small freshman sat at one of the far tables near the windows, shoulders slightly hunched, tray barely touched. He picked at his food absentmindedly, eyes drifting around the cafeteria like he was searching for something… or someone.
Namjoon followed his gaze for a moment. No friends. Phone out. Just quiet.
Jin noticed Namjoon staring.
“What?” Jin asked, already halfway through stealing fries from Namjoon’s tray.
Namjoon nodded subtly toward the corner. “That kid.”
Jin looked.
And immediately pouted.
“Oh no,” Jin said, genuinely distressed. “He’s sitting all alone.”
Namjoon hummed. “Freshman, probably.”
Jin watched the boy for another second, lips pressed together. “He looks like a lost puppy.”
Namjoon smiled to himself. “You’re thinking about it.”
“I am thinking about it,” Jin said, offended. “What if he’s nervous? Or new? Or having a terrible first day?”
Namjoon shrugged, already resigned. “You’re going to talk to him.”
Jin turned to him, grin spreading. “You’ll come with me.”
“I always do,” Namjoon replied calmly.
That was all the permission Jin needed.
He grabbed Namjoon’s wrist without warning and dragged him across the cafeteria, weaving through tables like this was a mission. Namjoon laughed softly, letting himself be pulled along, because of course he did.
They stopped in front of the small table.
Jin plopped down across from the boy without hesitation. Namjoon sat beside him, posture relaxed but attentive.
The kid froze.
Big, doe-like eyes widened as he stared at them, fork paused halfway to his mouth like his brain had completely shut down.
“Hi,” Jin said brightly, resting his chin in his hand. “You look lonely.”
Namjoon winced a little. “Jin—”
The boy blinked. “I—uh—”
“I’m Jin,” Jin continued, undeterred. “And this is Namjoon.”
Namjoon offered a gentle smile. “Hey.”
The freshman looked between them, clearly overwhelmed. “…I’m Jungkook.”
Jin’s expression softened instantly. “See? Not scary at all.”
Namjoon watched the way Jungkook slowly relaxed—just a fraction—and felt something settle comfortably in his chest. Jin had always been like this. Drew people in without trying. Saw what others missed.
And Namjoon?
Namjoon stayed right beside him.
Always.
By the time senior year hit its halfway mark, the idea had stopped sounding crazy.
It started as a joke—late at night, sprawled across Jin’s bed, scrolling through apartment listings neither of them could actually afford yet.
“What if,” Jin had said, eyes bright, “we just… lived together?”
Namjoon had gone quiet. Thought about it. Really thought about it.
And then he’d said, “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”
That was how it always worked with them. Big things decided softly.
Their parents knew each other and when the topic came up, there was no shouting, no panic. Just raised eyebrows, a few questions about school and finances, and then quiet acceptance.
“As long as you’re happy,” Jin’s mum had said.
“Finish school strong,” Namjoon’s parents added.
That was it.
So when they finally found it—a small apartment not too far from school, warm light spilling through wide windows, creaky floors and just enough space—it felt unreal. Jin had squealed the moment the keys were placed in his hand, actually bouncing on his heels while Namjoon laughed beside him.
Now came the chaos.
Boxes lined both of their childhood bedrooms. Jin threw himself into packing with dramatic flair, tossing clothes into boxes and narrating the entire process like it was a reality show.
“This shirt,” Jin announced, holding it up, “has memories.”
Namjoon leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching with fond amusement. “You wore that once.”
“Exactly,” Jin replied seriously, shoving it into a box. “Historic.”
Moving day was loud.
Jin squealed again when they unlocked the apartment door for the first time as theirs, running room to room like a kid on Christmas morning.
“This is the kitchen!”
“This is OUR couch spot!”
“Namjoon look—this window gets so much light!”
Namjoon set boxes down quietly, heart full, eyes following Jin everywhere he went. There was something unreal about seeing him here—free, happy, glowing in a space they chose together.
As they unpacked, Jin kept bumping into him, hugging him from behind, pressing quick kisses to his cheek between squeals.
“We did it,” Jin said breathlessly, spinning in the living room. “We actually did it.”
Namjoon stepped forward, hands settling at Jin’s waist, steady and warm. “Yeah,” he said softly. “We did.”
Jin beamed, resting his forehead against Namjoon’s.
And in that small apartment—half-unpacked, echoing slightly, filled with boxes and laughter—it already felt like home.
The apartment was finally quiet.
Boxes were still stacked in corners, a lamp sat crooked because they hadn’t figured out where it belonged yet, and the couch smelled faintly like new fabric and takeout. Jin was sprawled sideways with his legs draped over Namjoon’s lap, attention half on the TV, half on whatever dramatic commentary he was providing.
“That character is definitely lying,” Jin said confidently.
Namjoon hummed, absentmindedly rubbing circles into Jin’s calf. “You say that every episode.”
“And I’m usually right.”
The TV continued playing—until Jin’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Jin glanced at the screen and frowned slightly. “It’s Jungkook.”
Namjoon’s hand stilled. “Answer it.”
Jin did immediately. “Hey, Kook—”
The sobbing cut him off.
Jin sat upright so fast Namjoon barely had time to react.
“Jungkook?” Jin’s voice softened instantly. “Hey—hey, slow down. What happened?”
Namjoon reached for the remote and paused the TV, his full attention snapping to Jin’s face. Jin’s expression shifted with every muffled word coming through the phone—concern deepening, jaw tightening.
“Wait—what?” Jin said, standing up now. “A fight with your dad?”
He listened for another moment, eyes widening.
“He—he kicked you out?” Jin repeated, disbelief and anger mixing in his voice. “Where are you right now?”
Namjoon was already on his feet.
Jin didn’t hesitate. “Okay. Listen to me. Don’t move, alright? We’re coming to get you. Right now.”
He ended the call and turned to Namjoon, already grabbing his jacket.
“Keys,” Jin said urgently.
Namjoon snatched them off the counter without a word.
They didn’t talk as they rushed out the door—only shared a look, the kind that said we’ve got this. Jin locked the apartment with shaking hands, worry etched into his face, while Namjoon pressed the elevator button impatiently.
“Poor kid,” Jin muttered. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“He won’t be,” Namjoon replied firmly.
They burst out into the night air, heading straight for the car—moving fast, hearts pounding, already bracing themselves for whatever they were about to walk into.
Because Jungkook wasn’t just a freshman anymore.
He was theirs.
The car ride was quiet.
Jin had pulled up in record time, tires crunching over the curb as Namjoon opened the back door and Jungkook slid in without hesitation, backpack clutched to his chest. He was small and tense, shoulders hunched, eyes red from crying.
“Hey,” Jin said softly, reaching back to ruffle Jungkook’s hair awkwardly. “It’s okay. We’re here.”
Jungkook sniffled and nodded, looking out the window for a moment before finally letting his gaze fall to Namjoon and Jin. Namjoon gave him a small, reassuring smile.
The drive back to their apartment passed in silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle from Jungkook. Jin’s hand rested lightly on the console, tapping out an absent rhythm, while Namjoon kept a steady eye on the road—both of them tense but quiet, letting Jungkook settle in at his own pace.
When they arrived, Jin swung the door open. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
Jungkook hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding and following them into the apartment. Jin immediately started pulling the door closed behind them, muttering, “Safe now.”
Namjoon glanced around and then turned back to Jungkook. “You can just… stay here with us tonight. Or as long as you need. Okay?”
Jungkook swallowed, voice small. “R-really?”
“Really,” Jin confirmed with a warm smile. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Namjoon disappeared for a moment and returned with a soft blanket and a pillow, gently setting them down on the couch for Jungkook. He gave the blanket a little shake, making sure it was cozy.
“Here,” Namjoon said, kneeling in front of him. “Sit, get comfortable.”
Jungkook sank into the couch, hugging the pillow to his chest. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice still shaky.
Namjoon didn’t reply with words. Instead, he leaned forward and wrapped Jungkook in a firm, comforting hug. Jungkook leaned into him, finally letting his body relax a little, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting. Jin crouched nearby, smiling softly at the sight—this was exactly the kind of moment that made all the chaos, all the worries, feel worth it.
“You’re safe here,” Namjoon murmured into Jungkook’s hair, voice steady. “We’ve got you.”
And for the first time that night, Jungkook believed it.
Present: 2026
The table was cluttered with half-eaten plates, empty glasses, and the occasional stray napkin, but the atmosphere was anything but messy. Namjoon and Jin were deep in storytelling mode, recounting their journey from high school juniors to the chaotic, laughter-filled life they shared now. Every pause, every detail, was punctuated with exaggerated gestures, soft chuckles, and the occasional dramatic eye-roll from Namjoon.
Jimin’s smile had only grown larger with every story. His elbows rested on the table, chin propped in his hands as he leaned forward eagerly, completely absorbed. There was a glow in his expression—like he was watching a live romantic comedy unfold, only better because it was real.
Jungkook, however, could barely meet anyone’s eyes. His face was bright red, and he kept nervously picking at his food, glancing between Namjoon and Jin with a mix of embarrassment and fascination. The corners of his mouth twitched as though he were holding back laughter—or tears—he wasn’t quite sure which.
“You guys… this is insane,” Jimin said finally, voice low but filled with awe. “I mean… you literally planned your life together since high school. And all the little moments—you guys are like… couple goals times a thousand.”
Jungkook groaned and buried his face in his hands again. “Jimin! Please don’t… don’t—”
But Jimin ignored him completely. Leaning across the table, he pressed a quick, playful kiss to Jungkook’s cheek, smiling so widely it almost hurt. “Kook, you’re so cute! I swear, the way you get embarrassed… it’s literally the cutest thing ever.”
Jungkook squeaked, flinching slightly, and muttered, “I’m not that cute!” while hiding behind his hands.
Jin, who had been leaning back in his chair with a smug expression, finally set down his glass. He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, voice sharp but teasing. “Excuse me, Jimin. Excuse me, Jungkook. Can you please remember whose story this is?”
Namjoon shot Jin a grateful look, letting out a small laugh. Jin continued, pointing a finger at them both. “This is our love story. Namjoon’s and mine. Not yours, Jimin. Not yours, Jungkook. So you two can zip it and go back to your dinner, okay?”
Jimin froze mid-grin, eyebrows raising in mock offense. Jungkook peeked up from behind his hands, eyes wide and glinting with mischief. “Wait—so you are leaving out the details?” he asked, leaning forward just a little too eagerly.
Jin’s smirk widened, and Namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair with practiced patience. “Yes. Absolutely. No,” Namjoon said firmly, “we are not talking about the night of the party.”
Jungkook’s mischievous grin only grew. “Come on! You can’t just leave me hanging like that! What actually happened that night? Was it… intense? Dramatic? Romantic?”
Namjoon exchanged a look with Jin—one that said more than words ever could. Jin’s eyes narrowed playfully, and he reached across the table to ruffle Jungkook’s hair lightly. “Kook, seriously. Back to your dinner. Chopsticks at attention. Now.”
Jimin groaned in exaggerated disappointment, pretending to pout. “Aw, come on! Don’t be mean! We deserve the juicy details!”
“No,” Jin said firmly, smacking the table lightly for emphasis. “This is our story, Jimin. Not yours. Not yours either, Kook. Eat your food before we take it away.”
Reluctantly, Jungkook picked up his chopsticks, still muttering under his breath, but the mischievous glint in his eyes never left. Jimin, on the other hand, returned to his plate with a small, dramatic sigh—but the smile on his face remained as wide as ever.
Namjoon leaned back, a soft smile tugging at his lips, brushing Jin’s hand under the table. The warmth between them was quiet but unmistakable, a little sanctuary in the middle of the chaos. Jin leaned against him slightly, shoulders relaxing, smirking as he watched the two younger boys squirm.
“You two are hopeless,” Jin whispered, voice soft.
“Exactly how I like it,” Namjoon replied with a grin, resting his head lightly against Jin’s shoulder.
And as the four of them ate, laughed, and teased each other, it felt… perfect. Full of the little moments that made life messy, loud, and beautiful.
The laughter and chatter from earlier had faded, and the apartment had finally settled into quiet. Jungkook and Jimin had retreated to Jungkook’s room, still whispering and laughing quietly, the door clicking softly behind them. The rest of the apartment seemed to sigh in relief as the evening turned into night.
Namjoon and Jin stayed for a moment in the living room, leaning against each other, shoulders touching. Jin yawned and stretched dramatically, the motion making Namjoon chuckle. “Well,” Jin said softly, “I think it’s just us now.”
“Looks like it,” Namjoon replied, his voice calm, warm. He reached for Jin’s hand, intertwining their fingers as they headed to their bedroom together. The familiarity between them was effortless—the way their fingers fit together, the way they fell into step with each other, the quiet unspoken rhythm of a life built together.
Once inside, Jin kicked off his slippers and stretched out on the bed with a sigh. Namjoon followed, settling beside him, letting the blanket rise and fall around them as they relaxed into the comfort of their shared space. The soft hum of the city outside filtered through the window, mixing with the faint scent of dinner that still lingered in the air.
Namjoon brushed a loose strand of hair from Jin’s face, tucking it gently behind his ear. “You look tired,” he murmured.
Jin smiled, nuzzling against Namjoon’s chest. “I am,” he admitted. “But… it’s nice. Being here with you.”
Namjoon leaned over, lips brushing Jin’s in a gentle, lingering kiss. Jin responded instantly, curling into him, his hand resting against Namjoon’s chest as if to anchor himself. The kiss was slow, unhurried, full of the kind of quiet intimacy that only comes after years of knowing someone, of trusting them completely.
They pulled away just slightly, foreheads resting together, eyes locking in a quiet, unspoken conversation. Namjoon could see it in Jin’s eyes—the same mixture of love, warmth, and playful mischief he had always seen there, now deepened by a year of marriage.
Jin tilted his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You wanna… go back to our high school selves?”
Namjoon grinned, letting his fingers trail down Jin’s side. “Hmm… you mean all the chaos and drama?”
Jin laughed softly, resting his forehead against Namjoon’s. “Exactly. The party, the late-night sneaking around, pretending we weren’t in love in the halls… all of it.”
Namjoon’s grin widened, and without hesitation, he pulled Jin closer. Jin hovered above him for a moment, their laughter mingling, before they kissed again—soft, warm, and full of the comfort and joy that only comes from truly being with someone you love.
They broke apart just long enough to look at each other, breathing slowly, smiling. Jin’s eyes shone with that same playful glint Namjoon had fallen for years ago. “You know,” Jin murmured, “we’re even better now than we were back then.”
Namjoon chuckled, brushing his thumb along Jin’s jaw. “Definitely. We’ve got… more freedom. And more pillows.”
Jin pressed a small laugh against Namjoon’s shoulder, nuzzling him. “And more snacks. And no curfew.”
Namjoon smiled, feeling the weight of the day and the comfort of their life together melt away. “Exactly. And I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”
For a long while, they just stayed there, tangled together under the blanket, fingers intertwined, the quiet of their bedroom holding them safe. Outside, the city pulsed with life, but inside, there was only them—the soft rhythm of breaths, the gentle warmth of closeness, and the kind of intimacy that comes from years of shared laughter, love, and trust.
Eventually, Jin rested his head against Namjoon’s chest, sighing happily. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” Namjoon replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Jin’s head. “More than ever.”
And as they settled into sleep, side by side, it wasn’t just the night that felt perfect—it was the life they had built together, one year of marriage and countless memories, and the quiet, unwavering certainty that whatever came next, they would always have each other.
The end.