The dorm was quiet, but Taehyung couldn't sleep. His phone was face-down on the nightstand, yet he still felt the weight of it, like its silence was louder than any notification.
He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Every replay of last night's performance ran through his head, frame by frame. The music, the lights, the crowd screaming his name—it should have felt like triumph. Instead, it felt like exposure.
He turned his head and glanced across the room. Jungkook was there, headphones on, sketching in his notebook. His brows were furrowed, lips pressed together, fully focused. The sight eased something in Taehyung, yet made it harder at the same time.
They hadn't spoken much since the practice room. Only glances, only the brush of a hand when no one was looking. Enough to say I see you. Not enough to silence the questions in his head.
Taehyung sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. His chest tightened with restlessness. How much longer can we live like this?
The fandom was already spinning theories. Secret messages in lyrics. Hidden symbols in their outfits. Side glances slowed down and dissected until the internet swore it saw confessions in their eyes. Taehyung almost laughed—it was fantasy, but fantasy had power. It shaped the way people loved them, fought for them, doubted them.
What scared him wasn't the fantasy. It was how much of it carried pieces of truth.
He stood and slipped onto the balcony, sliding the door shut behind him. The night air was cool, brushing against his skin. Seoul glittered below, alive and loud even past midnight. For a moment, he let himself breathe.
Behind him, the door creaked open. Jungkook stepped out, hoodie pulled up, sketchbook still in hand. "Couldn't sleep?"
Taehyung shook his head, forcing a small smile. "Too many voices in my head."
Jungkook leaned against the railing beside him, close but not too close. "Ignore them."
"That easy for you?" Taehyung asked softly.
Jungkook's eyes flickered to him. "No. But it's easier when I remember why I'm doing this. Who I'm doing this for."
The words hung between them, heavy and sharp. Taehyung looked away, down at the streets where strangers lived lives untouched by cameras and rumors. For a second, he wished he was one of them.
But he wasn't. He was Kim Taehyung of BTS. Every move he made was amplified. Every smile was interpreted. Every slip became controversy.
"I don't want to hide forever," he whispered.
"You won't," Jungkook said firmly. "We won't."
The certainty in his voice startled Taehyung. He turned, studying the younger man's expression. Jungkook's gaze was steady, unshaken, like he had already made peace with a decision Taehyung hadn't even dared to name.
In the distance, a faint siren wailed, fading into the city's hum. The night seemed to press closer around them, like the world was waiting for an answer.
Taehyung didn't give one. He didn't need to.
When Jungkook's hand brushed against his again, this time Taehyung didn't pull away. He let it linger, just long enough to feel warmth. Just long enough to imagine a future where they didn't have to let go so quickly.