1

The winter wind bit at Jungkook’s cheeks. The air smelled sweet—too sweet—stifling him with the scent of burnt sugar.

He stood alone under the strings of festival lights. His coworker had vanished twenty minutes ago chasing roasted chestnuts, leaving Jungkook to shrink into his coat like a tortoise hiding in its shell. He hated crowds. He felt small.

Then, a harsh shove from the side broke his balance.

Jungkook stumbled back. His heel found nothing but empty air.

Panic flared in his chest. The world spun. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the pain of the cold pavement.

But the pain never came.

Instead, a strong arm circled his waist. A firm hand gripped his shoulder. The heat was instant, searing through the layers of his coat.

Jungkook gasped, his eyes flying open.

The man holding him was tall. He had a scarf loosely draped over a dark wool coat. Strands of black hair fell over his brow, shadowing eyes that were deep and calm.

Time seemed to stutter and stop. The noise of the crowd faded into a dull buzz, leaving only the sound of Jungkook’s own frantic heartbeat. Thump. Thump.

The stranger didn't pull away immediately. He held Jungkook steady, his grip possessive, solid.

"Careful," the man said.

His voice was low, vibrating in Jungkook’s chest. It sounded like a cello string plucked in a quiet room.

Jungkook’s throat felt tight. He stared at the man’s face—the high bridge of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw. He forgot to be embarrassed. He just felt... stunned.

"A-Ah," Jungkook stammered, his ears turning pink. "Thank you."

The man’s gaze lingered on Jungkook’s face for a heartbeat too long. Then, slowly, reluctantly, he loosened his grip. The loss of warmth made Jungkook shiver.

"Taehyung! The fireworks are starting!"

A voice called out from the distance. The spell broke.

The man—Taehyung—blinked, as if waking from a dream. He looked at Jungkook one last time, his eyes unreadable, dark and heavy.

"Watch your step," Taehyung murmured.

He turned around, his long coat swaying with the movement.

Jungkook stood frozen. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm the erratic rhythm of his heart. He watched the tall figure walking away, the dark hair blending into the golden lights of the festival.

It felt like a thread was being pulled taut.

Before his mind could stop him, Jungkook’s feet moved. He couldn't let that warmth disappear into the cold night. He started to run.

Rationality had abandoned him.

Jungkook had never been the type to chase shadows. He lived his life within the lines, careful and measured. But tonight, his legs were moving of their own accord, guided by a frantic rhythm drumming against his ribs. The winter air burned his lungs, but the tightness in his chest came from something else entirely—an inexplicable, magnetic pull.

He found him near the edge of the plaza.

Taehyung stood under the halo of a streetlamp, surrounded by three or four others. They were laughing, their breath puffing out in white clouds. Taehyung wasn't laughing, but he looked... at peace. A calm island in a chaotic sea.

Jungkook halted.

What are you doing? his mind screamed. Turn back.

But his feet refused to listen.

Taehyung’s group began to drift toward the subway station. Taehyung followed, hitching his camera bag higher on his shoulder, ready to vanish into the night forever.

Panic surged through Jungkook, sharp and sudden.

"Wait!"

The word tore from his throat, louder than he intended. It cut through the ambient noise like a dropped glass.

Several heads turned. But Jungkook only saw one.

Taehyung stopped. He turned slowly, the movement graceful, almost cinematic.

Their gazes locked across the distance.

Jungkook’s mouth went dry, as if he had swallowed sand.

Taehyung murmured something to his friends—a dismissal, brief and quiet—and then began to walk back. His hands were buried in his coat pockets. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark pools reflecting the festival lights.

He stopped three steps away. Close enough for Jungkook to smell the faint scent of cedar and cold air clinging to him.

"Did you need something?"

Jungkook opened his mouth. Closed it.

Logic begged him to lie. You dropped this. Where is the station? Sorry, wrong person.

But the chaotic thumping of his heart silenced all reason.

"What is your name?"

Taehyung blinked, his long lashes fluttering.

"Taehyung," he answered, his voice deep and steady. "Kim Taehyung."

Jungkook nodded. His hands were trembling inside his pockets, fists clenched so tight his knuckles ached.

"Are you..." Jungkook’s voice wavered, barely a whisper. "Are you seeing anyone?"

A flicker of surprise passed through Taehyung’s eyes. It was gone in an instant, but he didn't look offended. He looked... intrigued.

"No," Taehyung said softly. "I am not."

Jungkook swallowed hard. The next words felt heavy, like stones he had to carry.

"Do you want to spend seven days with me?"

The sentence hung suspended in the freezing air. The world seemed to go silent.

Taehyung stared at him. His expression was completely still.

Dizziness washed over Jungkook. He felt lightheaded, on the verge of collapsing.

"I mean—" He tried to backtrack, panic finally clawing at his throat. "Until the New Year. Just... to see. If we—if you want. We can stop anytime. If it feels wrong. I just—"

He choked on the words. He couldn't finish. He was drowning in the intensity of the man’s gaze.

Taehyung was still watching him, but the sharp edge of his expression had softened. Something in his eyes shifted—a curiosity, a spark of amusement, perhaps even loneliness.

"What is your name?" Taehyung asked quietly.

"Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook."

Taehyung nodded slowly, tasting the syllables, turning the name over in his mind like a puzzle piece he had been missing.

Then, he gestured vaguely down the street.

"There is a café two blocks from here," Taehyung said, his voice low and warm. "Let’s sit down first."

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