Mornings always felt a little too loud for Taehyung.

It wasn’t that he hated school exactly. He liked certain things—the art room that always smelled like dust and paint, the rooftop when no one else was there, the way the sun warmed the stairwell walls in second period. But the rest of it? The noise, the people, the pressure to be both seen and unseen at the same time—it all made him feel like he was wearing a sweater that didn’t fit, constantly tugging at the sleeves but never able to take it off.

He walked into Daegu High that Monday with his earphones in, half-late and only mildly caring. One of his earbuds kept slipping out because he forgot the rubber tip at home, and he was balancing way too many things—sketchpad under one arm, books tucked to his chest, and his phone lighting up with a message from Hyejin asking where he was.

It wasn’t his fault. He got caught up watching the rain outside his window and then forgot to pack his bag properly. So now he was rushing through the corridor, muttering to himself, trying to ignore the pounding rhythm of a pop song in his left ear.

And then he crashed straight into someone.

Books flew from his hands like startled birds, hitting the floor with a slap that echoed through the hallway.

“Ah, crap—” Taehyung gasped, immediately crouching down. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see—”

He looked up—and froze.

Of course. Of all the people to run into, it had to be Jeon Jungkook.

Quiet, unreadable, frustratingly cool Jungkook. The boy everyone talked about but who barely spoke. He was crouched too, already gathering the fallen books with quick, practiced movements like this wasn’t the first time someone had clumsily crashed into him.

Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat. There wasn’t really a reason for it. Just... Jungkook had these eyes. Sharp, dark, quiet. The kind of quiet that made you nervous, not because it was empty—but because it felt like he was thinking a hundred things he’d never say out loud.

“Thanks,” Taehyung said awkwardly as Jungkook handed him the last book.

Jungkook didn’t reply. Not a single word.

No eye contact. No glance. No half-smile. Just... silence.

He slid his earphones back in and walked away.

Taehyung sat there for a moment longer, blinking, heat blooming in his chest like something sharp and confusing.

Did that just happen?

He stood up slowly, brushing off his jeans. The hallway was still buzzing around him—first years laughing, teachers scolding students for not tucking in their shirts—but he felt oddly still. Frozen in place.

Why hadn’t Jungkook said anything? Did he not hear him? Was he mad? Did he think Taehyung did it on purpose?

That would be stupid. But... it stuck in his mind the rest of the day like something half-remembered from a dream.

---

By lunch, the rumor had already spread.

“Taehyung, is it true?”

He looked up from his lunchbox to find Minseo grinning at him across the cafeteria table. “What’s true?”

“That you have a crush on Jungkook.”

Taehyung almost choked on his rice.

“Excuse me?!”

Minseo giggled. “Seriously. You guys totally had a moment this morning. Nari saw it happen. You were blushing.”

“I wasn’t blushing,” he snapped, though he absolutely had been, probably from sheer embarrassment.

“She said your hand touched his.”

“For like half a second!”

“Still,” another girl said, leaning in. “That’s so cute though. You and Jungkook... I can kind of see it.”

Taehyung felt like the world was tilting sideways. It wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real.

“What is wrong with all of you?” he groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “There’s nothing going on. I dropped my books. He helped. That’s it.”

Still, the whispers continued. He could hear them in the hallway when he passed. See the way people smiled behind their hands. Some of it was playful. Some of it was mocking. All of it made him want to curl up in a locker and disappear.

The worst part? Jungkook hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t even looked his way.

---

That afternoon, Taehyung found himself walking behind Jungkook after the last bell rang. It wasn’t on purpose—they just happened to take the same street home. A quiet neighborhood road lined with ginkgo trees and closed-up corner stores. The rain had started again, soft and thin like mist, clinging to Taehyung’s hoodie.

He thought about calling out to him.

Maybe just to apologize again. Or explain the rumor wasn’t his fault. Or... maybe just to hear his voice once.

But Jungkook didn’t turn around. Didn’t seem to notice him.

Or maybe he was just pretending not to.

Taehyung stared at his back, wondering why his chest felt so tight. Wondering why it bothered him so much that Jungkook hadn’t even looked at him since that morning.

They weren’t friends. They weren’t anything.

So why did it feel like he’d done something wrong?

---

That night, Taehyung lay on his bed, the ceiling blurring above him, unread messages glowing on his phone. He thought about the way Jungkook’s hand had brushed his. The silence. The way it had lingered.

He wasn’t sure if he liked Jungkook.

But he was absolutely sure he didn’t like this feeling.

The worst part wasn’t being teased. It wasn’t the rumor.

It was how Jungkook hadn’t said a word.

And how Taehyung couldn't stop waiting for one.

---

MAIN CHARACTER

Kim Taehyung

17 years old.

Third-year student.

Major mood: warm autumn sunlight that sometimes forgets to shine.

Taehyung is the kind of boy who laughs too loudly in the middle of class and zones out mid-conversation when a thought hits him. He's artistic, unpredictable, and a little too dreamy for the real world. His sketchbook is full of people he’ll never talk to and skies he wishes he could live in.

People think he’s confident—bright, magnetic—but most days, he’s just trying to hold himself together with a smile. Deep down, he’s sensitive, easily hurt, and constantly wondering if anyone really sees him past the surface.

He believes in love… but also believes it’s probably not meant for people like him.

Until he crashes into someone who makes silence feel like a conversation.

Jeon Jungkook

18 years old.

Third-year student.

Major mood: headphones in, walls up.

Jungkook keeps to himself. Not because he’s shy—but because it’s safer that way. He’s sharp, talented, and observant, always watching from the sidelines with a camera in hand or a sketch of his own in the back of his notebook.

No one really knows what he’s thinking, and he prefers it that way. The fewer people who get too close, the fewer chances they have to leave. He doesn’t speak unless it matters. He doesn't smile unless it’s real.

He doesn't believe in love. Not the way other people do. Not the sweet kind.

But something in Taehyung makes him wonder if he's been wrong all along.

Absolutely! Here’s a continuation of your character introduction section with added focus on Taehyung’s best friend Jimin and Jungkook’s close friend Yoongi, plus a subtle, emotional subplot of their own love story — soft, realistic, and full of yearning to match the main story’s tone.

SUPPORTING CHARACTERS

Park Jimin

17 years old.

Taehyung’s best friend since middle school.

Major mood: glitter and heartache.

Jimin is sunshine in human form—sweet, soft-spoken, but unexpectedly sharp when it matters. He's the one who holds Taehyung together without anyone noticing. Always offering gum before class, always listening when Taehyung rambles, always pretending not to worry when he clearly does.

People like Jimin because he’s kind. But they stay because he understands. He reads emotions like sheet music, even when no one says a word.

He hides his own heart carefully.

Especially when it comes to a certain boy with tired eyes and a mouth that never says enough.

Min Yoongi

18 years old.

Jungkook’s closest friend—more like a reluctant older brother.

Major mood: poetry hidden in a hoodie.

Yoongi doesn’t chase people. He watches, listens, thinks. His words are rare, but when he speaks, they tend to stick. People assume he’s cold—but that’s only because he doesn’t let them close enough to know how deeply he feels.

He’s a quiet genius with music, carries his thoughts like weights in his pockets, and has a soft spot for underdogs and understatements.

And somehow, Jimin has always made him nervous.

Jungkook didn’t like mornings.

Not because he hated school. Or people.

He just hated feeling seen when he didn’t know how to respond.

That was the problem.

When he’d bumped into Taehyung earlier that day—books scattered, hands brushing, the boy looking at him like he was some kind of slow-burning answer to a question no one had asked—Jungkook had frozen. Like he always did.

And walked away. Like he always did.

By the time he got to his last period, his hoodie was up and his walls were back in place. But something felt… unfinished.

His thoughts were still stuck on Taehyung’s face.

And that’s when Yoongi slid into the seat next to him without saying a word.

"You're late," Jungkook mumbled without looking up.

"And you look like someone stole your favorite hoodie," Yoongi replied, deadpan.

Jungkook smirked, just barely. He didn’t smile often, but Yoongi always managed to crack through.

They had a quiet kind of friendship. It didn’t rely on talking. Just music, quiet walks, the occasional exchange of sarcasm and gum. Yoongi had taken Jungkook under his wing sometime last year after catching him sketching alone behind the gym during lunch.

He never asked why Jungkook was always alone.

And that’s exactly why Jungkook stayed close.

Yoongi leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, watching Jungkook from the side. “You’re being weird. Even for you.”

Jungkook stayed quiet.

Yoongi didn’t press. He never did.

But he noticed—like always—that Jungkook’s hand kept twitching over his phone, like he wanted to text someone and didn’t know how.

---

Across the school, in the art room...

Taehyung was quiet.

Jimin, his best friend and chaos partner, was spinning a paintbrush between his fingers and side-eyeing him for the tenth time.

“Okay. Spill. What’s going on in that head of yours, Taehyungie?”

Taehyung blinked at him. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” Jimin said gently, brushing a smudge of charcoal from Taehyung’s cheek. “You’ve been staring at the same corner of the ceiling for twenty minutes like it insulted your entire bloodline.”

Taehyung huffed. "I bumped into someone. Like... literally. Books flying. Hand touching. Intense eye contact. Main character moment. And then he just—"

“Let me guess,” Jimin interrupted, amused. “Didn’t say anything and walked away?”

Taehyung groaned, sliding down in his chair. “How did you know?”

Jimin smirked, his voice light. “Because you’ve been whispering Jungkook under your breath like it’s a spell.”

Taehyung covered his face with both hands. “It wasn’t just me, right? It felt like something.”

“Maybe it was.”

Jimin paused, eyes softening. “But some people don’t know how to say something when it matters. Doesn’t mean they didn’t feel it too.”

---

Later that day, in the music room...

Yoongi was playing piano.

Not loudly—just slow chords, drifting half-songs. The kind he played when his brain was too loud and his heart too quiet.

Jungkook sat in the corner, headphones around his neck, sketching something in his notebook. He hadn’t told Yoongi about Taehyung. He didn’t know how.

But Yoongi spoke anyway.

“Whoever he is,” he murmured without looking up, “don’t overthink it.”

Jungkook froze. “What?”

Yoongi’s fingers kept moving. “You wear your silence like armor, Jungkook. But sometimes people look at you and hope it’s a door.”

Jungkook looked down. He hated when Yoongi was right.

The room was quiet for a moment. Then, quietly:

“I didn’t mean to ignore him,” Jungkook muttered. “I just… didn’t know how to respond.”

Yoongi’s voice was soft. “You’re allowed to feel scared. You’re just not allowed to use that fear to hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.”

Jungkook nodded slowly. “So what do I do?”

Yoongi gave a faint smile. “You find a way to open the door. Even if it’s just a crack.”

---

Meanwhile, at the school gates...

Jimin was waiting for Taehyung. Rain had started again, soft and steady.

He pulled out his umbrella, holding it above both their heads when Taehyung finally joined him, dragging his feet like the ground offended him.

Jimin laughed and tugged him closer.

“You're being dramatic again,” he said.

Taehyung muttered, “He ignored me.”

Jimin shrugged. “So? That’s just one day. Wait until tomorrow.”

Taehyung gave him a sidelong glance. “Why are you always so hopeful?”

Jimin smiled quietly. “Because if I wasn’t… I’d miss every moment that mattered.”

Just then, across the street, Yoongi stepped out from under the music building awning, hoodie half-soaked, walking slowly with his earphones in.

His eyes met Jimin’s for a second—accidental and charged—and neither of them looked away fast enough.

Just for a moment, it felt like the whole street held its breath.

Then Yoongi blinked, nodded once, and walked off into the rain.

Taehyung didn't notice.

But Jimin's smile faded just slightly, his fingers tightening on the umbrella handle.

---