The studio lights had dimmed, but the air still buzzed with warmth. The last note of Jungkook's voice lingered in the silence, the kind that stretches and fills every corner. The others had left an hour ago, the laughter fading down the hallway until only the hum of the monitors and the quiet rhythm of breathing remained.
Taehyung leaned back against the console, arms crossed, his eyes tracing Jungkook's movements. The younger one was still pacing, earphones half in, mumbling melodies, lost in a trance only he understood. The sight made Taehyung smile in a way he didn't mean to.
"You never stop, do you?" Taehyung said softly. His voice barely broke the still air.
Jungkook turned, pulling the earphones out, a small grin forming. "You'd complain if I did."
"Maybe," Taehyung said. He pushed himself away from the console and walked closer. "Or maybe I'd finally get you to look at me for more than two seconds."
The teasing tone hid something deeper. Jungkook noticed it. The grin slipped into something quieter, more fragile. His gaze lingered on Taehyung's face, tracing the shadows under his eyes, the curve of his jaw, the faint glint of sweat near his temple.
"I'm looking now," Jungkook said.
Silence again. Heavy, but soft. The kind that doesn't need breaking.
Taehyung stepped closer, close enough for Jungkook to feel the warmth of his breath. He reached out, fingers brushing the hem of Jungkook's sleeve. "You worked hard today," he murmured. "You always do."
"Because you're watching," Jungkook replied. It slipped out before he could stop himself. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if the walls themselves might tell on him.
Taehyung's eyes softened, then dropped to the floor. He didn't say anything, just stepped even closer. Their foreheads almost touched. The scent of coffee and studio air wrapped around them, that familiar mix of exhaustion and adrenaline.
"I missed this," Jungkook said. "Us. Just us."
Taehyung nodded, hand finding its way to Jungkook's chest. His palm stayed there, feeling the steady rhythm underneath. "Then stop disappearing," he whispered. "Even when you're right here."
Jungkook caught his hand, their fingers lacing without effort. The space between them dissolved. Their breaths mixed, unsteady but sure. Jungkook tilted his head, his voice rougher now. "You always pull me in when I try to stay away."
"Then stop trying," Taehyung said.
The world outside the studio might as well have fallen silent. The only sound left was the soft click of the air conditioner and the low thud of their hearts, too fast, too close. The rest didn't matter — not fame, not fear, not the endless noise waiting beyond those walls.
Here, they were just two people standing in the echo of a song they made together, both knowing it meant more than either could say aloud.