Seokjin didn't sleep well, he never did, maybe it was insomnia creeping in.

The morning after the café, the memory clung to him like a stain he couldn't wash away. Taehyung's voice, too casual, too cruel. The laughter. The look on his face.

It wasn't just what Taehyung said. It was how easily he said it.

When Seokjin arrived on campus, everything felt dull, gray skies, gray walls, gray moods. He didn't speak. Didn't smile.

He sat through lectures like a ghost, and even Yoongi noticed it, he was used to Seokjin's silence—after all, that was just Seokjin being Seokjin: quiet, composed, always in control. But this time, it felt different. He could feel it, something was off.

In their minor subject, Creative Perspectives and Media Studies, Seokjin and Taehyung were classmates. But that didn't matter anymore. Seokjin kept his distance, always choosing a seat in the back corner. They'd never really talked before; it wasn't like that until that day.

Taehyung knew Seokjin was there, and he wanted to talk, but something held him back. Maybe it was Min Yoongi, who had come in soon after and sat right beside Seokjin. Or maybe it was the way Seokjin seemed to light up when Yoongi was around.

Taehyung frowned, shifting his attention to his friend, but his mind kept drifting back to Seokjin, how he laughed a little too easily at Yoongi's jokes, how his shoulders relaxed in a way Taehyung had never seen before.

He sighed in frustration. "I'll talk to him later...".

The professor walked in, and the room quieted. Everyone settled in except Taehyung, who was still caught up in his thoughts.

Between classes, Seokjin slipped into the restroom, needing a moment away from the crowded halls. He leaned over the sink, splashing cold water on his face. His reflection stared back at him, and he tired, guarded, weighed down by something he didn't want to admit.

The door creaked open, making Seokjin turn his head.

"Hey," Taehyung's voice was soft, hesitant.

Seokjin froze, heart skipping a beat.

Taehyung stepped beside him, leaning on the counter like nothing was wrong. "Can we just talk? Please?"

Seokjin kept his eyes on the mirror, refusing to meet him. "There's nothing left to say."

Taehyung's brow furrowed, frustration mixing with something else in his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

Seokjin finally turned, voice low but steady. "You really don't know?"

Taehyung's confusion deepened. "Know what?"

"I heard everything," Seokjin said quietly, but sharp. "At the café... what you said about me."

Taehyung's face shifted, he was surprise, then ashamed. "I didn't think you were there."

Seokjin's eyes flashed. "That's the thing, you didn't think...you said it like it was nothing and you laughed like it was a joke."

Taehyung swallowed hard, stepping back a bit, guilt heavy on his shoulders. "I was messing around. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Seokjin's voice cracked slightly but stayed steady. "It didn't feel like a joke to me."

Taehyung looked away for a moment, then back with raw honesty. "I'm sorry...I'm really sorry...I never wanted to hurt you, I don't even know why I said those things..."

Seokjin's jaw tightened, but his anger softened a little. "It's not just what you said, It's how easily you said it...like I'm some kind of joke, a fake. You don't even see me, never seen the sacrifices I've made."

Taehyung's voice dropped. "Fuck, I'm such an idiot..."

Seokjin chuckled bitterly, eyes turning serious. "That's one thing we actually agree on, miracles do happen."

Without another word, Seokjin left the bathroom. Taehyung stood there, staring at the sink, guilt and regret swirling inside.

Kim Seokjin Pov.

The class finally ended, and the professor dismissed everyone early. People packed up quickly, eager to leave. Yoongi was the first to go, already checking his phone and grabbing his bag.

"Got to head to work," he said while packing. I frowned a little.

"Hey, I'm not one to push you to say your problems, but I'm here when you need me, okay?" Yoongi said, giving me a light punch on the arm. I chuckled softly and nodded.

"Thanks, Yoongi. I'll tell you when I'm ready. Be careful on the road."

"Sure thing, see ya," Yoongi said and waved goodbye. Watching him walk away made me feel a little sad, he was one of only two people I trusted. But I didn't let myself get caught up in the loneliness. I'd learned long ago that dwelling on things didn't help, it only made the weight heavier. Better to keep moving forward, even if it felt like I was walking through fog.

I sighed and packed up my things.

And then, I was alone.

The campus garden felt quieter than usual, the empty benches, a soft breeze, and the distant hum of the city. I didn't want to go home yet. Not with everything tangled up inside me.

I glanced at my phone and sighed again. Fencing practice didn't start until 3, and it was barely 1 o'clock. I sat on one of the cold benches, my hands resting on my knees.

"Why did he have to say those things? Am I really that uptight? Am I fake?" I thought, staring blankly at the grass swaying in the wind. The questions echoed in my mind, but the answers felt just out of reach.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching, slow and cautious. I didn't have to look up to know who it was. Like I said, he's not exactly subtle.

"Seokjin," Taehyung's voice was soft, almost sheepish.

My heart tensed instantly and just the sound of his voice stirred everything I'd been trying to suppress, the confusion, irritation, and disappointment. I didn't turn around, I kept my eyes on the grass, watching the wind make soft waves through the blades like nothing was wrong.

"What are you doing here?" I asked quietly, though I already knew.

"I've been looking for you," he said, stepping closer. "You weren't in the library. I even asked that grumpy vending machine guy if he'd seen you."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "That's not something to be proud of."

He chuckled, a little awkwardly. "No, but... I had to find you and I wanted to apologize. Again."

I scoffed and finally looked up at him, letting my gaze meet his. His expression faltered the moment our eyes met, he actually flinched. "Right~ ahaha...Because saying 'I'm sorry' over and over magically fixes things?"

His silence was loud. He glanced down for a second, then muttered, "Okay, ouch, but fair."

I noticed the way his messy hair, the faint bags under his eyes, the slight slump in his shoulders. He looked tired. Not just physically, but... worn out. Like someone who hadn't had peace in a while. And even though I was still hurt, part of me, some ridiculous, soft part, felt that familiar ache of wanting to understand him.

He shifted awkwardly. "Look, I know I messed up. What I said at the café... it was stupid, okay? I didn't mean it. I was just trying to sound cool. Funny."

I turned my whole body toward him, so we were eye to eye. No more dodging. "Making a joke out of me is your idea of funny?"

He winced like I'd slapped him. "When you say it like that, yeah...it sounds terrible. Which it was...I just... I panicked and I said things I shouldn't have."

I shook my head slowly, my disbelief sharp and cold. "You didn't panic, Taehyung. You were laughing."

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a quiet, frustrated breath. "That's the part I hate the most. I sounded like a complete asshole. I was an asshole."

We stood there in silence, the wind shifting gently between us, carrying the weight of all the unspoken things I didn't know how to say.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, he grinned.

I blinked at him, suspicious. "What?"

He clapped his hands together like he was announcing the start of a game show. Then he jumped twice and turned to face me with this ridiculous gleam in his eye. "Alright, since words aren't working and you clearly want to strangle me to death, I now present: a PEACE OFFERING!"

My cheeks turned bright red. "Be quiet! There are still people on campus, idiot!" I hissed, trying to push him back down into his seat. Instead, I somehow ended up getting pushed back down myself.

"I have an idea," he said with absolute certainty, like it was the answer to all of life's problems. "An idea that will make you forgive me."

I sighed and rubbed my temples. "If this ends with you pulling out a ukulele and singing some tragic acoustic cover, I swear—"

"Nope. Even better." He pointed off dramatically toward the student center. "Claw machine."

I stared. "What?"

"There's a claw machine by the café. Full of those ridiculous plushies. I've never won a single one."

"...Okay. And?"

He smirked. "If I win a plushie, just one! you forgive me."

I laughed, despite myself. The sound surprised me. I hadn't laughed all day. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Exactly," he said, his grin widening, I blushed a bit. "So dumb, it just might work."

"And if you don't win?"

"Then I keep trying. All night if I have to. Until my arms fall off. Until I go broke. Until the machine begs me to stop." He leaned forward slightly. "Until you laugh again. Like that."

My smile wavered. I looked at him longer this time. The sincerity behind his stupid grin. The way he was trying so hard, not with fancy words or excuses, but with something oddly childish and honest. He looked at me like he was trying to make things right the only way he knew how.

I swallowed the knot in my throat. I hated that it worked.

"...Fine," I said slowly. "One plushie."

Taehyung's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Deal!"

Before I could stop him, he grabbed my wrist and tugged me to my feet, practically bouncing on the on his two feet. His warmth seeped into my skin where our hands met.

"You wait and see!" he shouted over his shoulder as he started pulling me toward the student center. "I've got skills you've never seen before!"

I followed him, half-dragged, heart pounding.

I shouldn't be smiling. I shouldn't be this soft.

But maybe... just maybe... I wouldn't mind if he didn't win.

At the Student Center

The student center buzzed with energy low music thumping from overhead speakers, people milling around holding bubble tea and paper trays of fries, bright arcade lights flickering across the walls like candy-colored confetti.

I hesitated the moment we stepped inside, my shoes skimming the boundary between polished floor and chaos. The sudden sensory overload made my breath catch.

Taehyung didn't notice at first. He was already scanning the room, eyes darting like a kid on a sugar high. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, enthusiasm practically radiating from him. His hand was still loosely wrapped around my wrist, warm and steady, grounding me even as the rest of the world tilted sideways.

But me?

I felt like I'd stepped into another world.

Loud. Bright. Alive. Excitingly Alive.

Kids and students huddled around blinking machines, shouting when someone won, groaning dramatically when someone didn't. The scent of popcorn and syrupy soda mixed with oil and cheap cleaning spray. There were neon signs shaped like stars and bears, and somewhere, someone had just beat a high score and was screaming about it with pride.

I'd never been in a place like this before.

Not once.

Not even when I was younger.

While other children spent Saturdays at play zones and birthday parties, screaming over cake and tokens, I was handed sheet music and classical pieces to memorize. Piano. Violin. Mandarin classes. Etiquette dinners where I had to sit up straight and nod at men in tailored suits who discussed stock markets and land deals like it was small talk.

Game centers were a distraction. A detour. A "waste of neurons," my father once said.

"Let other children waste their time," my mother added. "You, Seokjin—you will not."

So I didn't.

I never questioned it.

Until now.

Now, watching two students high-five with victorious grins after winning a basketball challenge, and hearing someone shriek in laughter while failing miserably at DDR, something stirred in my chest, something strange and soft and aching.

I always thought places like this were silly. Pointless.

But maybe... they were supposed to be.

Maybe that was the point.

"You okay?" Taehyung asked, finally noticing I'd slowed behind him.

I blinked and tried to steady my expression. "Yeah. Just... never been here before."

He tilted his head. "Like, today? Or ever?"

"Ever."

His eyes widened. "Seriously? You've never been to a game center?"

I nodded, a little sheepish. "My parents didn't really let me do stuff like this. They said it was a waste of time."

Taehyung looked at me like I'd just confessed to never having eaten ramen. "Wow. No offense, but that's super depressing."

"None taken," I muttered, lips twitching despite myself.

Without hesitation, he tugged me toward the claw machines. "Well, it's your lucky day. You're about to have your first official game center experience, with me as your unqualified guide-slash-champion."

"God help me," I murmured and said it in a joking way. 

"You'll survive. Probably." He grinned over his shoulder. "First stop: plushie glory."

The claw machine stood near the wall, its transparent box full of ridiculous plush animals—wide-eyed frogs, misshapen bears, suspiciously round cats, and one that looked like a mutated pineapple.

Taehyung stepped up with the intensity of a man about to compete in the Olympics.

"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Time to prove my worth."

I crossed my arms. "You say that like winning a plushie is a sacred duty."

"It is," he replied solemnly. "Especially when forgiveness is on the line."

I watched him dig into his pocket and fish out some coins. With theatrical flair, he slid one into the slot and gripped the joystick with the gravitas of a pilot launching a space mission.

The claw hovered above a bright pink bear. Taehyung narrowed his eyes, tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

"Almost... there..."

He pressed the button.

The claw dropped.

It tapped the bear... then wobbled... then closed around nothing.

The machine let out a pitiful little "bloop."

Taehyung clutched his chest. "Betrayal!"

I laughed.

It wasn't forced or polite, it was a real, bubbling laugh that startled me with its own sound. Something warm and unexpected cracked open inside my ribs.

He turned to me, grinning like a child on Christmas morning. "Hey! You laughed."

"Only because you're terrible at this."

"Harsh, but true." He slid in another coin. "Round two."

We stayed there for nearly twenty minutes.

He tried every strategy: the slow-and-steady slide, the "quick jab," even what he dramatically called "the diagonal sneak." He yelled when it failed him. He once dropped to his knees and begged it like a telenovela protagonist in crisis and  every time the claw dropped and missed, he'd turn to me with a dramatic gasp or a pout so exaggerated I nearly cried from laughing.

"If you grab that penguin, I'll donate to charity!" he cried once, hand over his heart.

"You're bribing the machine now?" I asked, barely able to keep a straight face.

"Desperate times," he said gravely.

And somewhere between the third failed attempt and the fifth ridiculous strategy, I realized I hadn't thought about my parents, or grades, or who I was supposed to be, in the last fifteen minutes.

All I'd thought about was how stupidly committed Taehyung looked.

How he refused to give up.

How much he clearly wanted me to smile.

Taehyung didn't ask me to be composed or impressive or agreeable. He didn't care whether I was perfect or poised.

He just wanted me here. With him.

And maybe... maybe that was enough.

"Last coin," he said finally, holding it up like it was a wedding ring. "The moment of truth."

I leaned in, mock-serious. "Don't mess it up, your reward is waiting."

He winked. "No pressure at all."

The coin dropped. Music played. The claw hummed to life.

Taehyung guided it with care, hovering over a sad-looking yellow duck buried at an awkward angle.

"Going for the underdog?" I asked.

"It's how I roll."

He hit the button.

The claw descended.

Caught the duck's wing.

Wobbled...

And lifted.

I didn't breathe.

The claw swayed slightly, trembling with the weight—but held on.

It reached the chute, lowered slowly...

Dropped.

Ding!

The machine lit up in a colorful victory animation.

"YES!" Taehyung shouted, punching the air. "YES YES YES!"

He turned to me, triumphant, clutching the crooked duck like it was a golden trophy. "Your forgiveness, please."

I stared at the plush.

Its stitching was uneven. One eye was bigger than the other. Its beak was crooked like it had seen things.

It was hideous.

It was perfect.

"...Fine," I said, trying to sound reluctant. "You're forgiven."

Taehyung whooped and handed it to me with a flourish. "For you. Your first plushie ever."

I took it gently, fingers brushing his for a second longer than necessary.

And as I held it, this ridiculous, lopsided duck, I felt something shift in my chest.

I wasn't sure what surprised me more and how warm it felt in my hands...

...or how much I didn't want to let it go.

We left the game area with the duck in my arms and a faint buzz still in my ears from all the neon and sound.

Taehyung pointed toward a small food kiosk in the corner, wedged between a coin karaoke booth and a photo sticker station. The sign above it read "Snack House" in pastel bubble letters, with pictures of hotteok, tteokbokki, and fries stuck like stickers on the glass.

"You hungry?" he asked, nudging me lightly with his elbow.

I nodded before I could even think about it.

Maybe it was the sugar in the air, maybe it was the way laughter still clung to my skin like static. But I wanted to keep this going a little longer.

He ordered for both of us, fish cake skewers, a tray of fries drizzled in garlic mayo, and a cup of chocolate milk for me after I hesitated too long in front of the drink menu.

"It looked like something you'd drink," he said, handing it to me.

"Because I scream 'childish'?"

He smirked. "Because you need some sugar to balance all that internalized academic trauma."

I gave him a flat look but still sipped from the carton.

We found a bench just outside the student center, facing the small garden courtyard that no one ever really sat in. The sun was starting to go down, casting everything in a mellow amber. The kind of light that made you feel safe. Slow. Like maybe you didn't have to rush anywhere.

He popped a fry into his mouth. "So," he said, nudging his shoulder against mine, "tell me something you did get to do as a kid."

I thought about it.

And for a second, I almost lied.

It would've been easier to say something normal. Something that didn't sound like a textbook answer.

But then I looked at him, really looked at him, warm fries sitting between us, the duck plush squished on my lap and something inside me cracked open just a little more.

"I was good at memorizing," I said. "Flashcards,  piano pieces, vocabulary lists, the periodic table and I could recite whole speeches after hearing them twice.

Taehyung blinked. "That's... impressive, but not what I asked."

I laughed softly. "Yeah, I know."

He turned his body a little to face me more directly. "What did you do for you, though? What made you happy?"

The question hung there between us. Light and dangerous.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I think I was always too busy trying to make my parents proud."

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "And... did you?"

I looked away.

My fingers tightened around the plush in my lap.

"I thought I did," I said eventually. "But every time I achieved something, they just moved the finish line."

Taehyung didn't speak right away.

He just leaned back on his hands, eyes toward the sky.

Then he said, "You know... you don't have to earn fun. Or joy. Or... whatever this is."

I glanced at him.

He wasn't smiling to be polite. He wasn't trying to fix it. He was just there.

I didn't know how to respond to that.

So instead, I said, "Thanks for today."

He tilted his head. "It's not over yet."

I raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Yup. Next stop! the photo booth! We need visual evidence of your game center baptism." Taehyung exclaimed and gobbled up all the food in his mouth.

My groan was immediate. "No way." I immediately refused.

"Too late. You laughed, you got a plushie, and you admitted you didn't have a childhood. That earns you at least four ridiculous sticker photos."

"Taehyung—"

But he was already up and pulling me to my feet, duck tucked under one arm and fries in his other hand.

"Come on, Seokjin," he said, flashing that grin again. "You've spent your whole life being who everyone expected you to be. Maybe it's time to try being someone else."

I stared at him.

And for the first time in a long, long time...

I wanted to.

I chuckled and smiled at him.

"You are the most persistent man I have ever met in my entire life."

Taehyung laugh and grinned at me.

"You bet I am!"

Meanwhile at the Kim Household 

The ticking of the antique clock on the wall was the only sound in the quiet sitting room.

Mrs. Kim sat at the edge of the cream-colored velvet couch, spine perfectly straight, a cup of untouched tea cooling on the low table in front of her. The porcelain teacup had once belonged to her grandmother, a woman who believed discipline was a virtue above all else.

She had been trying to call her son for the past hour.

Call #1: No answer.
Call #2: Still ringing.
Call #3: Straight to voicemail.

Her fingers, manicured and still clutching her phone with a delicate grace, tightened.

She clicked the call log again and pressed "Seokjin" for the fourth time.

"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system—"

Beep.

Her thumb hovered over the red button.

"Jin-ah," she said into the phone with practiced calm, though there was now a sharp edge beneath the surface. "It's already 7:40. You have fencing. And you didn't tell me where you were. Call me back immediately."

She ended the call, her lips pressed into a thin, silent line.

As if on cue, the phone began to vibrate in her palm. Unknown number. She answered.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, Mrs. Kim. This is Coach Park—Seokjin's fencing instructor?"

She stood up instinctively. "Ah, Coach. Yes. Good evening. Is something the matter?"

"I just wanted to confirm...has he dropped out of the program??"

Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"It's just... he hasn't shown for two sessions. I thought perhaps there was a schedule conflict or a medical reason. We tried to reach him directly, but—"

"He didn't show up today?"

"No, ma'am. Not yesterday either. I would have contacted sooner, but he's never been late before, so I assumed—"

"I understand," she said tightly. "Thank you for letting me know."

The call ended.

She was still standing in the same spot, hand trembling slightly now as she redialed her son's number.

No answer.

Then, another call came through. This time, it was the familiar number of the cram school.

She picked it up with a chill already creeping into her chest.

"Mrs. Kim? This is Ms. Go from the Topline Academy."

"Yes?"

"We're calling regarding your son, Seokjin. He hasn't attended cram school today. We tried contacting him, but—"

"He is absent?" she echoed, her voice dangerously low.

"Yes, ma'am. We thought perhaps you were informed of a schedule change."

"No. I wasn't."

"I see. Well, we'll hold his seat for now, but please let us know—"

She ended the call before the woman could finish.

Her phone lowered slowly from her ear.

The silence in the house suddenly felt oppressive.

She turned toward the hallway, her footsteps echoing softly on the polished wood floor. The staff had already turned in for the night. She passed by Seokjin's room, immaculate, untouched, as if he hadn't truly lived in it for years.

Her eyes fell to the neatly arranged textbooks on his desk, the bed made without a wrinkle, the certificates hanging on the wall like museum pieces.

Where was he?

And more importantly...

What on earth was he doing that he was willing to miss fencing and cram school?

She didn't know yet.

But when she found out?

There would be consequences.