Chapter 2: The Party and the Pillow

Jungkook stared at the invitation like it had personally offended him.

“Back to School Bash @ Sigma Beta – 9PM till we drop. Dress hot, drink free.”

It had been taped to their dorm room door with neon pink washi tape. Taehyung’s handiwork, no doubt.

"You're going, right?" Taehyung asked, emerging from the closet with a loose white button-down and fitted slacks that should've been illegal. His sleeves were half-rolled, collar undone just enough to hint at the honey toned skin beneath.

Jungkook didn’t look up from his sketchpad. “Hard pass.”

Taehyung cocked his head. “Why? You could use some fun. And people. And daylight.”

“I get plenty of daylight. Through the window. Where people aren't.”

Taehyung chuckled, walking over to the mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair—slightly wavy and parted effortlessly, giving his already striking face an even sharper edge. His eyes, one monolid and one double-lidded, caught the light just right, making it nearly impossible not to look.

Jungkook didn’t look. Not directly.

“You’ll be lonely,” Taehyung said, spritzing cologne. “Your friends are going.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because Hoseok and Jimin texted me.” He held up his phone, smug. “Apparently, they think I’m more fun.”

“That’s because you are noise personified,” Jungkook muttered, shading the jawline of his current sketch.

“Flattering,” Taehyung replied. “Come with me. Just for an hour.”

Jungkook shook his head. “You’ll be shirtless and making out with someone within ten minutes. I’ll pass.”

Taehyung grinned like he’d been complimented. “I’m flattered you think I’m that efficient.”

Later, the door slammed behind Taehyung as he left for the party.

Silence. Finally.

Jungkook exhaled through his nose and rolled onto his bed, blanket tucked up to his chin. His oversized hoodie swallowed his frame, warm and safe.

Still, he stared at the ceiling for a while, eyes tracing cracks he’d memorized by now.

Something about the quiet felt... heavier than usual.

He sighed, rolled over, and buried his face into his pillow.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then— BZZZZZZZZZZZT.

His phone vibrated violently across the desk.

He groaned and dragged himself over. One new text.

[Jimin 🐣]: “Come to Sigma Beta. I’ll keep you away from the crowd. Taehyung keeps asking if you’re coming 😏”

Jungkook stared at the message.

Then turned off the phone and threw it onto his bed.

And yet, ten minutes later, he was standing in front of the mirror, changing into his least offensive pair of jeans and the only non-black shirt he owned—a muted forest green Henley that Hoseok once said made his eyes pop.

The frat house was pulsing with music when he arrived.

Jungkook winced at the bass and slipped through the crowd like a shadow, muttering polite apologies as he dodged beer pong tables and too-drunk freshmen.

He didn’t stop until he spotted a familiar group near the stairs.

Jimin waved him over excitedly. “I knew you’d come!”

Hoseok turned with a beaming smile. “Look who decided to be social.”

Jungkook shrugged. “Don’t make it a thing.”

But they both pulled him in for a hug anyway.

He noticed Yoongi leaning against the wall next to Jimin, sipping from a red solo cup and looking mildly amused.

Taehyung was nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?” Jungkook asked before he could stop himself.

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who.”

“Oh. So you do want to see him.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“He went upstairs,” Hoseok said, grinning. “Something about changing his shirt because someone spilled tequila on it.”

Jungkook glanced toward the stairs, trying to act casual.

“I’m just going to find the bathroom.”

“Sure you are,” Jimin said.

The upstairs hallway was blessedly quieter.

Jungkook walked slowly, pretending to look for a door labeled “Restroom.” Instead, he paused outside one that was cracked open, light spilling out.

He was about to knock when he heard Taehyung’s voice inside.

“...No, it’s fine. I’ll catch up later.”

A beat of silence.

Then a soft sigh.

Jungkook gently pushed the door open.

Taehyung stood in front of a mirror, shirtless again, dabbing at his shoulder with a towel. His back muscles shifted with each movement, toned and elegant in a way that made Jungkook’s throat go dry.

Taehyung looked up, eyes catching his in the mirror.

One eye monolid, the other double-lidded—mismatched and mesmerizing.

“You came,” he said, blinking in surprise.

“I did,” Jungkook replied awkwardly.

Taehyung turned, leaning against the dresser. “Didn’t think you would.”

“I’m still not sure why I did.”

Taehyung tilted his head. “But you did.”

Jungkook didn’t answer.

They stood in silence for a moment, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable—just loaded.

“Want to sit?” Taehyung asked, gesturing to the bed behind him.

Jungkook hesitated, then crossed the room and perched on the edge.

“I don’t like parties,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Taehyung replied. “I don’t think you like much of anything.”

“I like quiet. Art. My space.”

“I like people. Chaos. Movement.”

Jungkook looked at him. “I know.”

They shared a look. Taehyung’s gaze softened, dark eyes studying Jungkook like he was trying to read something written between his ribs.

“You’re different from everyone else I’ve met,” Taehyung said after a moment.

“That’s not always a good thing.”

“With you, it is.”

Jungkook’s breath caught.

He didn’t know how they got here—this room, this conversation, this feeling like gravity was subtly shifting under his feet—but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Taehyung reached over to tug gently at the edge of Jungkook’s sleeve.

“You wear this when you don’t want anyone to see you.”

Jungkook’s voice came out hoarse. “How do you know?”

“Because you’re practically drowning in it,” Taehyung smiled. “And I’ve been paying attention.”

Jungkook swallowed hard.

And then Taehyung said something unexpected.

“Do you want to leave?”

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

“The party. Do you want to go back? To the dorm.”

“With you?”

Taehyung shrugged, almost shy. “Only if you want to.”

Jungkook nodded before he could stop himself.

Back at Room 304, the silence was immediate and heavy in a good way.

They kicked off their shoes, shed their party selves, and slipped back into the strange rhythm they were learning to share.

Jungkook collapsed onto his bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

Taehyung mirrored him on the other side of the room, head resting on a pillow.

After a few minutes, Taehyung turned.

“Hey.”

Jungkook looked over. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad you came.”

Jungkook hesitated. Then: “Me too.”

The lights were off now, but the moonlight slipped through the window and cast soft shadows over Taehyung’s face. Jungkook watched the way it kissed the edge of his jaw, how his eyes—those mismatched eyes—remained on him even in the dark.

Something was happening.

He didn’t know what yet.

But it felt like the beginning of a slow burn.

And Jungkook, for once, didn’t want to put it out.

_____

To be continued

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