Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Taehyung liked quiet.

Not in the dramatic, poetic way people talked about quiet in books. Not “the silence wrapped around him like a blanket” quiet. Just… normal quiet. The kind where you could hear the soft scratch of your pencil against paper and the distant hum of traffic outside the window and nothing else demanding your attention.

It was the kind of quiet he’d imagined when he got his dorm assignment.

Room 418. Two beds. One desk by the window. One desk near the door. A narrow wardrobe that looked like it might collapse if someone breathed too hard near it.

Perfectly manageable.

He’d arrived early that morning with two suitcases, a box of sketchbooks, and a roll of carefully protected drafting paper tucked under his arm like it contained state secrets. By noon, everything was already organized.

Left desk: laptop, pencils, small desk lamp.

Right desk: empty. Waiting.

The other bed was still bare, the mattress plastic-wrapped.

Taehyung stood in the middle of the room and allowed himself a small moment of hope.

Maybe the roommate wouldn’t arrive today.

Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe—

The door burst open.

Taehyung flinched so hard he almost dropped the stack of books in his hands.

A boy stumbled in backwards, dragging a suitcase that hit the doorframe with a loud thunk.

“Why are dorm hallways always so narrow—”

He turned around mid-sentence and froze.

Taehyung froze back.

For a second they simply stared at each other.

The new arrival was wearing an oversized hoodie, black jeans and sneakers that looked like they had survived at least three different concerts. His hair was messy in a way that suggested it had either been styled carefully or not brushed at all.

He blinked.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re real.”

Taehyung frowned.

“What?”

“My roommate,” the boy clarified. “I thought maybe the school just wrote ‘shared room’ to scare people.”

Taehyung didn’t know how to answer that.

The boy dropped the suitcase handle and stepped further into the room, glancing around quickly like he was scanning a new stage.

“Wow,” he said, impressed. “You’re organized.”

Taehyung looked at his desk. Looked at the perfectly stacked notebooks. Looked back.

“Yes.”

The boy stuck out his hand.

“Jungkook.”

Taehyung hesitated half a second before shaking it.

“Taehyung.”

Jungkook’s handshake was warm and quick, like he had somewhere else to be in the next thirty seconds.

Then he immediately spun around and dragged the suitcase fully inside.

“Okay, question,” Jungkook said casually. “Do you snore?”

Taehyung blinked again.

“No.”

“Good,” Jungkook said. “I talk in my sleep.”

Taehyung stared.

“That’s worse.”

Jungkook laughed — loud and easy, the sound bouncing off the dorm walls.

“Don’t worry. Last time it was mostly just arguing with someone about noodles.”

Taehyung wasn’t sure that helped.

Jungkook opened the suitcase.

Clothes appeared.

Not folded.

Just… appeared.

Taehyung watched in quiet horror as a hoodie landed on the chair, a pair of jeans somehow ended up on the desk and a guitar case was casually leaned against the wall like it had always belonged there.

“You play?” Taehyung asked before he could stop himself.

Jungkook followed his gaze.

“Oh. Yeah.” He shrugged. “Music major.”

That explained the guitar.

It did not explain the chaos.

Taehyung glanced at the clock on the wall.

It had been exactly twelve minutes since Jungkook entered the room.

Already the space felt… louder.

Jungkook noticed him watching and tilted his head.

“You’re architecture, right?”

Taehyung stiffened slightly.

“How do you know that?”

“You have like twelve pencils and they’re all different shapes,” Jungkook said. “And that tube thing looks expensive.”

Taehyung glanced at the drafting paper.

“It is.”

Jungkook nodded like this confirmed a theory.

“Cool,” he said.

Then he pointed at Taehyung’s neatly made bed.

“You always this prepared?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

Jungkook collapsed onto his own mattress, still wrapped in plastic.

It made an unpleasant crinkling noise.

He didn’t seem to notice.

Taehyung watched him lie there, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling like the room had always belonged to him.

“You know,” Jungkook said after a moment, “most people would wait until after the semester starts before achieving this level of organization.”

Taehyung sat down slowly at his desk.

“Most people also fold their clothes.”

Jungkook lifted his head just enough to look at the chair buried under fabric.

“I will eventually.”

Taehyung wasn’t convinced.

For a moment the room fell quiet again.

Not the same quiet as before.

This one was filled with the faint smell of someone else’s shampoo and the soft tapping of Jungkook’s fingers against the plastic mattress.

After a minute, Jungkook sat up suddenly.

“Oh!”

Taehyung looked up.

“Important question,” Jungkook said seriously.

Taehyung braced himself.

“What time do you sleep?”

“Midnight,” Taehyung replied automatically.

Jungkook grimaced.

“Okay we might need negotiations.”

“Why?”

“I compose at night.”

Taehyung blinked.

“With headphones,” Jungkook added quickly.

Taehyung relaxed a little.

“How late?”

Jungkook thought about it.

“Two?”

Taehyung stared.

Jungkook grinned.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Taehyung wasn’t so sure.

Across the room, Jungkook finally started unwrapping the plastic from his mattress.

The loud ripping sound filled the dorm.

Taehyung opened one of his sketchbooks and tried to focus on the clean white page.

Behind him, Jungkook began humming softly while he worked.

It wasn’t loud.

Just a quiet melody, barely more than breath.

Taehyung told himself it was distracting.

He told himself it was exactly the kind of chaos he had hoped to avoid.

But his pencil paused mid-line anyway.

And before he realized what he was doing, he found himself listening.