Kim Taehyung’s life ran on a schedule that would have made his parents proud: wake up at 6, school until 3, cram school until 8, home for dinner, study until midnight. Then, his secret ritual at 3 AM sharp, he slipped out of the apartment and walked to the 7-Eleven on the corner.
It was the only hour that belonged entirely to him.
The cashier was always the same guy tall, with dark hair that fell into tired but gentle eyes. His name tag read Jungkook in both Hangul and English. They never said much, just exchanged nods as Jungkook scanned Taehyung’s ramyeon and banana milk. Two insomniacs sharing silence while the city slept.
Everything changed the night Taehyung’s phone died.
He stood frozen in the ramyeon aisle, holding his useless phone like evidence of his impending doom. No alarm meant oversleeping. No alarm meant failing. The panic prickled hot in his throat.
“You okay?”
Taehyung turned. Jungkook was restocking energy drinks, a silver chain glinting under the fluorescent lights. Up close, Taehyung noticed a small scar slicing through his left eyebrow.
“My phone died,” Taehyung muttered, voice shaky. “I know it’s stupid, but—”
“It’s not.” Jungkook set down the box of cans. “Here.” From under the counter, he pulled out a charger. “Emergency stash. You can charge it while you eat.”
Minutes later, Taehyung was sitting outside on the plastic chairs with a steaming cup of ramyeon. Jungkook joined him, carrying his own cup and two bottles of banana milk.
“So,” Jungkook said, twirling noodles with an ease that made Taehyung’s chest tighten, “what brings you to my kingdom at 3 AM? Besides the superior ramyeon, obviously.”
Taehyung laughed before he could stop himself. “Your kingdom?”
Jungkook grinned, crooked and genuine. “I’m the Night King of Convenience. Very prestigious title.” His gaze softened. “But seriously, you’re here all the time. Insomnia?”
“Something like that.” Taehyung stirred his noodles, debating. “It’s the only time I feel… me. Not perfect student Taehyung. Not obedient son Taehyung. Just… Taehyung.”
Jungkook’s eyes flickered knowingly. “Pre-med track?”
Taehyung huffed a laugh. “International business. But yeah.” He tilted his head. “You too?”
“Was. Engineering major.” Jungkook’s tone was steady, without apology. “Dropped out last year. My parents are still… processing.”
They talked until dawn, about expectations, about being caught between identities and choices, about how heavy it was to live as two halves when the world wanted a whole. Jungkook was half-Korean, half-American; Taehyung was the son of a mother who dreamed of Seoul and a father who wanted Tokyo. Different stories, but the same feeling, never enough of either.
When Taehyung asked, “Why the night shift?” Jungkook looked at him quietly before answering.
“Because night is when people need someone most. Insomniacs, loners, people having the worst nights of their lives they all end up here eventually. Someone should be awake to help them find what they need.”
Something warm and startling bloomed in Taehyung’s chest.
-×-×-
He came back the next night. And the next.
Their 3 AM conversations became Taehyung’s favorite part of the day. They ranked every cup ramyeon flavor in the store. Jungkook introduced him to obscure indie bands; Taehyung played him Japanese city pop. They dreamed out loud Jungkook wanted to open a café someday, Taehyung wanted to see the world beyond syllabi and schedules.
“You know,” Jungkook said one night, leaning back in his chair, “you never seem like you’re performing here.”
Taehyung blinked. “Performing?”
“You’re just… Taehyung. Not perfect, not pressured. Just… wonderfully yourself.”
Taehyung felt his face heat. “Maybe because you make it safe to be myself.”
The words hovered between them, fragile and electric.
Jungkook’s voice was soft. “Taehyung, I think I’m falling for you.”
Taehyung’s smile was shy, but certain. “I think I fell weeks ago.”
Their first kiss tasted of banana milk and steam from cooling noodles, tender and tentative beneath the buzz of fluorescent lights.
-×-×-
Dating in secret came naturally; they were already used to living in the margins of other people’s expectations. Jungkook saved the best ramyeon flavors for Taehyung’s visits. Taehyung brought him coffee before school, slipping him stories that made Jungkook laugh until his eyes disappeared into crescents.
On the night before his college interviews, Taehyung sat outside the store, nerves rattling his hands.
“What if I mess up?” he whispered. “What if I’m not who they want me to be?”
Jungkook took his hand, tracing circles into his palm. “Then they don’t deserve you. But Taehyung, you’re going to be incredible. Whatever you choose.”
“What about us?”
Jungkook’s grip tightened. “We’ll figure it out. Good things are worth fighting for.”
-×-×-
Months later, Taehyung got into his dream program for international studies. Jungkook was accepted to culinary school in the same city. Their 3 AM ritual continued sometimes in person, sometimes over video calls across time zones, always theirs.
On graduation day, Taehyung’s mother studied Jungkook, then leaned close to her son. “He looks at you,” she whispered in Korean, “like you hung the moon.”
Taehyung’s smile was quiet, steady. “He taught me that I could.”
Years later, when Jungkook opened his café and Taehyung returned from a year abroad, they kept one corner open until 3 AM. A small space for insomniacs and dreamers, stocked with ramyeon and banana milk, where two people once fell in love under fluorescent lights proof that the best relationships begin in the small, sacred hours when the world is sleeping and your heart is finally awake.
