Jungkook’s POV

It started with a casual text from Seokjin two days later:

"Tae says you’re good at games. Prove it."

Jungkook smirked at the message.

He could already picture Seokjin’s confident smirk behind those words, the kind of look that challenged you and teased you at the same time.

That night turned into a two-hour gaming session—trash talk flying between them like sparks.

Jungkook laughed more than he had in weeks, especially when Seokjin’s in-game character fell into a trap he’d set.

“Hyung, you’re terrible at this,” Jungkook teased.

“Terrible? Excuse me, I was distracted by your very loud victory yell.”

It wasn’t just the game. After it ended, they lingered.

Seokjin recommended a movie—some old comedy that Jungkook hadn’t seen—and Jungkook, in return, sent him a song he’d been working on.

Then came the memes.

Before either of them realized, they were talking daily—morning messages, random check-ins, late-night calls that stretched until dawn.

Jungkook learned Seokjin loved bad puns so much that he’d pause in the middle of a sentence just to deliver one.

He had a secret weakness for strawberry milk, which Jungkook found hilarious. And sometimes, when Seokjin forgot the call was still going, he’d hum under his breath, his voice so soft it felt like it brushed against Jungkook’s ears.

Most of all, Jungkook noticed how Seokjin listened.

Not the kind of distracted, half-hearted listening people usually did, but real listening.

If Jungkook mentioned his frustration with a chord progression or his excitement about a lyric, Seokjin would remember and ask about it later.

The thought made Jungkook’s chest feel strangely warm.

Seokjin’s POV

Jungkook was… easy to talk to.

Not just because he was interesting, but because he cared about the little things Seokjin said—like how he’d been craving tteokbokki for days or how his neighbor’s dog barked at 2 a.m.

One evening, Seokjin had a particularly rough day.

Deadlines, back-to-back meetings, and a splitting headache.

He didn’t tell Jungkook outright, but halfway through their conversation, Jungkook said quietly,

“Hold on a second, hyung.”

Five minutes later, a picture arrived on Seokjin’s phone—a takeout box of steaming tteokbokki from Seokjin’s favorite place.

“I can’t deliver it to you,”
Jungkook texted,

“but you can pretend I did.”

Seokjin’s headache didn’t disappear, but something about that small gesture made it easier to breathe.

He caught himself smiling at his phone more often than he wanted to admit.

Late-night calls became a habit.

One night, around 1 a.m., they were talking about everything and nothing.

The kind of conversation that wandered through random topics—favorite childhood snacks, embarrassing school stories, dreams they’d never told anyone.

Somewhere in between, Jungkook’s voice came through the line, soft but certain.

“You’re different, hyung. You make me feel… comfortable.”

Seokjin’s heart stuttered.
“Good different, I hope?”

“The best,”
Jungkook replied without hesitation.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

If anything, it felt full—like the quiet between two notes in a song, holding more meaning than the sound itself.

Jungkook’s POV

The next day, Jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about that conversation.

It wasn’t like Seokjin was the only person he felt close to, but there was something about him—something steady yet exciting.

He didn’t push Jungkook to open up, but somehow, he made it so easy.

That weekend, they stayed up until sunrise. Not on purpose—it just happened.

They started with a late-night snack run over video call. Jungkook took Seokjin along to the convenience store, showing him which chips were on sale.

Seokjin made Jungkook laugh so hard in the instant ramen aisle that the cashier gave him a weird look.

By 4 a.m., Jungkook was lying on his bed, phone in hand, listening to Seokjin talk about his family. His voice was low, slower than usual.

“You must be tired,”
Jungkook murmured.

“I should be,”
Seokjin replied

“but I’m not. Talking to you makes time feel… different.”

Jungkook didn’t know what to say to that, so he just smiled into the dark, his heart beating in a rhythm he didn’t recognize.

Seokjin’s POV

When they finally said goodnight—or rather, good morning—Seokjin lay in bed, eyes wide open.

Jungkook’s laugh, his low
“Goodnight, hyung,”

The way his voice softened when he was tired—all of it played in Seokjin’s mind like a loop he didn’t want to end.

He told himself they were just becoming good friends.

That the warmth he felt was normal. That the small ache in his chest whenever they said goodbye was just because he enjoyed his company so much.

But deep down, Seokjin wasn’t sure he believed his own excuses anymore.

A/N- We're getting there-