"To the girl who was marked to die-
And the version of himself that did."
Y/N didn't ask for this.
It was supposed to be a girls' trip. A few days of laughter, beaches, and blurry memories.
But somewhere between the airport terminal and the baggage...
The laughter of children bounced off the apartment walls, high-pitched and sticky with sugar. Streamers curled from the ceiling like tangled ribbons of noise. It wasn’t Y-N’s scene, not even remotely—but Mrs. Dev, the old lady next door, had personally invited her with a softness Y-N couldn’t say no to.
She stood now in a quiet corner of the room, clutching a plastic cup of juice she wasn’t drinking. Her eyes followed the chaotic energy of kids and candy like a spectator at a show she never auditioned for.
That’s when she saw him.
Not suddenly, not like a movie. Just… there. Like he’d always been in the room.
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Kim Taehyung, in dark beige and clean lines, hands tucked into his pockets, a subtle smile ghosting his lips as he listened politely to someone’s story. When his gaze finally met hers across the room, he didn’t smile wider.
He didn’t need to.
Something about him in that moment felt anchored. Quiet. Calming. Like a still point in the noise.
Y-N’s shoulders relaxed before she even realized they were tense.
He walked over—not fast, not slow. Just with the kind of ease that didn’t draw attention.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said, voice low enough to cut through the chatter, warm enough not to scare it away.
Y-N nodded, awkwardly shifting her cup. “Mrs. Alex guilted me into it.”
His laugh was soft. “She’s persistent.”
A beat of silence passed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“I’m glad you came,” he added, glancing at the chaos around them. “It’s easy to feel invisible in buildings like this.”
Y-N shrugged. “Sometimes that’s the point.”
His eyes didn’t pry. He just nodded like he understood.
They stood there a while, two quiet shapes in the noise. And for the first time in a week, Y-N felt like her breath wasn’t made of glass.
The birthday party had started to fade. Children collapsed into sugar comas. A cake knife clinked against plastic as the last of it was packed away. Y-N stood by the door, fingers curled lightly around her empty cup, ready to vanish back into her floor like she always did.
But Taehyung was there again. Not looming. Just… present. Holding the door open for her like a reflex, not a performance.
They stepped into the quiet hallway together. Their footsteps echoed.
“Long party,” he said mildly.
She let out a breath of something like a laugh. “Felt like five hours. It was barely one.”
Silence again.
Not cold. Not awkward. Just full.
As they neared the elevator, Y-N glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
“You don’t really seem like the party type,” she said.
Taehyung smiled without showing teeth. “Neither do you.”
And that was the whole conversation, yet it said more than most of her office calls all week.
They stood in front of the elevator in silence.
Y-N pressed the button. A soft ding lit the number.
As they waited, her eyes drifted down to his hand. One of them—his right—was slightly clenched. Not obvious. But not quite relaxed either.
“Did you hurt your hand?” she asked before thinking.
Taehyung’s gaze followed hers, then flexed his fingers once. Smooth. Casual.
“Ah. Just a little bruise. Drawer slammed on it this morning.”
She didn’t press.
But some part of her… wondered.
The elevator opened with a chime. They stepped in.
Floor 13. Floor 31.
“I guess you’re stuck with me until thirty-one,” he said, voice still soft.
She didn’t smile. But she didn’t look away either.
And when the elevator doors closed, it wasn’t awkward.
