Where Silence Lives

Taehyung's POV
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After Jungkook disappeared into his room, Taehyung stood alone in the quiet kitchen. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound left in the apartment. His fingers still felt faintly warm from where they'd brushed against Jungkook's wrist earlier — a fleeting touch, but somehow it lingered longer than it should have.

He turned off the kitchen lights and made his way to his own room, footsteps soft against the floor.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he leaned back against it and let out a slow breath.

What are we doing?

They'd been living together for a while now, bound by a contract, a practical decision made in a moment of necessity. Two strangers in the same space, orbiting around each other in silence. Not quite cold, not quite warm. Just... suspended.

But today something had shifted.

It wasn't grand. It wasn't dramatic. It was soup. A quiet meal. A shared elevator ride where silence didn't press down like it used to. A glance. A touch that wasn't pulled away from.

And it made Taehyung realize something that settled uncomfortably in his chest.

He didn't want this to stay like this.

Not anymore.

He lay on his bed, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling fan as it turned in slow, lazy circles.

Jungkook hadn't asked for anything. Not once. He kept to himself, never demanded, never expected. He was polite, quiet, and heartbreakingly distant, like someone who had learned too early not to be a burden.

And Taehyung hated that he'd let things stay that way for so long.

Maybe it wasn't supposed to be love. Maybe it didn't have to be. But there had to be something more than this careful distance between them. A kindness. A safety. A home.

He could give that - or at least try.
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Jungkook's POV
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The next morning

The apartment stirred to life in its usual quiet, almost reverent way. The early light filtered through gauzy curtains, painting the walls in a soft, silver glow. Somewhere, a kettle hissed faintly. Footsteps padded against the wooden floor, careful not to disturb the silence that hung between two rooms like a fragile thread.

Jungkook emerged from his bedroom already dressed for work, pressed shirt, dark slacks, hair still a little messy in the back. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking the sleep from them as he stepped into the kitchen.

Taehyung was already there, dressed in muted tones, sleeves rolled up, leaning slightly against the counter like he had been waiting.

Without a word, he extended a coffee mug.

Jungkook paused. His steps stilled. The warmth of the mug seeped into his palms as he accepted it slowly, his fingers brushing Taehyung's for the briefest second.

"Morning," Taehyung said, voice quiet but not cold.

Jungkook looked up, startled not by the gesture, but by the simple softness in it. "Thanks," he murmured, not out of habit, but because it felt... necessary.

Just a word. Just one. But it hung in the air like something precious.

And for the first time in a long time, Taehyung felt something shift, not dramatically, not loudly, but enough to loosen the tight, invisible strings around his chest.Something was softening.

They drank in silence, the soft clink of mugs the only sound between them.

Jungkook set his cup down gently and stood, adjusting the strap of his bag. As he moved toward the door, Taehyung watched him, gaze steady but unreadable.