I don't usually talk much. The others already know that. If I don't have to speak, I won't. But silence doesn't mean I'm not paying attention. In fact, it's the opposite. I hear everything. I see everything. I just don't always feel the need to comment.
Lately, there's been something new in the air. Or maybe not new, but more obvious. Jungkook and Taehyung.
I'm not surprised. I've seen the way they look at each other for years. It's not like it started yesterday. The rest of the world might write it off as friendship, and maybe they're not entirely wrong, but to me, there's always been more. Subtle things. How Jungkook relaxes when Taehyung is near. How Taehyung becomes more careful with his words when Jungkook is tired. You don't pick up on things like that unless you're watching closely. And I always am.
The others laugh, tease, or pretend not to notice, but I've stayed quiet. Not because I disapprove, but because I know how heavy words can be. If you acknowledge something too soon, you risk breaking it. Sometimes it's better to let people figure themselves out without interference.
The other night, during practice, I caught them sneaking glances again. I was sitting on the floor, stretching, pretending to check my phone, but my eyes were on them. Jungkook was messing with the choreography, doing extra spins, while Taehyung scolded him, but his smile gave him away. They think they're subtle, but they're not. At least not to me.
Part of me worries. Not because I think what they have is wrong. But because we live in a world where every move is dissected, judged, and picked apart by people who don't even know us. If the wrong person catches the right picture, it can spiral into something ugly. And I don't want that weight on them. I know what pressure feels like. I don't want them crushed by it.
But another part of me… feels relieved. Because in this life, love isn't easy to hold onto. We give so much to the public that sometimes I wonder what's left for us. Seeing Jungkook and Taehyung create something private, something just for them, reminds me that we're still human. That we're not machines built only for music and performance.
Later, after practice, I stayed behind in the studio to work on a beat. I don't know why, but I kept thinking about them. I opened a new file and started layering soft piano notes, low bass, and a rhythm that felt steady, like a heartbeat. Without meaning to, the melody became warm. Gentle. Almost like the feeling I get when I watch those two together.
Music has always been my way of saying things I can't say out loud. So maybe this track is my way of accepting it. Of protecting it in the only way I know how.
I don't think I'll tell them about it yet. Maybe I'll keep it saved, tucked away until the right moment. But one day, when they need it, I'll play it for them.
Because sometimes silence doesn't mean indifference. Sometimes silence is care.
And I care more than I let on.