The morning began like any other, yet the silence felt heavier than usual. The dorm was alive, but in a subdued way, as if everyone had unconsciously agreed not to speak too loudly.
Jin was in the kitchen, apron tied over his sweats, moving with the confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times. He stirred the pot of soup, flipped eggs with one hand, and scolded the rice cooker when it beeped too early. Jimin drifted in first, hair flat on one side from sleep, yawning as he leaned against the counter.
"Hyung, is there coffee?" Jimin mumbled.
"Of course there's coffee," Jin said, rolling his eyes. "I'm the only reason you all don't starve in this place."
Hoseok appeared next, singing a line from some pop song under his breath, his hoodie halfway zipped, his energy surprisingly calm for someone usually bouncing off walls. He ruffled Jimin's hair, earning a sleepy groan, then stole a spoonful of soup before Jin smacked his hand.
Yoongi came out last, hood pulled up, earbuds in, the faint sound of a beat leaking out. He didn't say much, only gave Jin a nod of approval as the smell of breakfast filled the room.
Then came Taehyung and Jungkook. They entered almost together, barely a step apart. Taehyung's hair was damp, like he had rushed through his shower. Jungkook carried his phone in one hand, scrolling as if it could disguise the way his body instinctively slowed to match Taehyung's pace.
The shift in the room was subtle but unmistakable. Jimin's eyes flicked between them. Hoseok raised his brows in a silent question. Namjoon, already sitting with his tablet, glanced up, then quickly back down as if nothing unusual had happened. But everyone had noticed.
Taehyung sat beside Jungkook instead of across. Jungkook set down his phone long enough to hand him chopsticks before taking his own. Their movements weren't loud, but the familiarity spoke volumes.
The table settled into quiet eating until Jin, who always hated awkward silences, spoke up.
"You two sleep okay?"
The words were innocent on the surface, but Taehyung froze mid-bite. Jungkook coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. Jimin nearly spit out his soup.
The laughter came quickly, breaking the tension. Hoseok smacked the table, Namjoon shook his head, and even Yoongi cracked a smirk under his hood. Jin looked satisfied, pretending it was all part of his plan.
But beneath the laughter, the truth lingered. Everyone could feel the shift.
After breakfast, schedules scattered them. Namjoon and Yoongi left for the studio. Jin had a shoot. Hoseok and Jimin were pulled into a choreography meeting. Taehyung and Jungkook found themselves in the practice room, waiting for their choreographer who was running late.
The room was wide and empty, mirrors stretching across the wall, the hum of the AC the only sound. Jungkook sat on the floor, back against the mirror, water bottle beside him. Taehyung paced a little, his long strides restless.
"Feels strange, doesn't it?" Taehyung said finally, lowering himself onto the floor.
"What does?" Jungkook asked.
"Being around them after… everything."
Jungkook rested his elbows on his knees. "They're fine with it. You saw it this morning."
"Fine, yeah. But curious too." Taehyung leaned back on his palms, eyes on the ceiling. "Sometimes I wonder how long we can keep this subtle before someone outside notices."
The honesty in his voice lingered in the air. Jungkook didn't answer right away. His fingers drummed lightly on his leg, a small nervous habit. Finally, he said, "I think about it all the time. But right now… I don't care."
Taehyung tilted his head to look at him, expression unreadable at first. Then a small smile tugged at his lips. "Not right now is enough."
The moment stretched, comfortable yet heavy with meaning. Jungkook wanted to say more, but the door burst open. Staff entered with clipboards, the choreographer trailing behind with a tired smile.
"Sorry, traffic," the choreographer said.
In an instant, both of them were back in idol mode. They stood, stretched, and took their positions. The music started, loud and commanding, and the private moment vanished into sweat, movement, and discipline.
Yet through the steps, the glances remained. A current beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniably there.