The studio was supposed to calm me. It always worked before. The soft hum of equipment, the dim lights, the quiet. A place where thoughts arranged themselves into something solid.
Tonight, the room felt different.
I sat on the rolling chair, spinning a pencil between my fingers while a half-finished beat looped in the background. It sounded good, but I wasn't hearing it. My mind kept drifting back to one person.
Jimin.
He had been acting strange around me these days. Not bad strange. More like soft strange. Watching me longer than usual. Laughing a little too easily when I teased him. Sitting closer. Asking questions he already knew the answers to.
It wasn't the first time Jimin hovered near me, but this felt different. He felt different.
I stopped the track and dragged my hands over my face.
"Why are you sighing like that?"
His voice came from the doorway.
I looked up and found Jimin leaning against the frame, hoodie loose, hair messy like he had been lying on the couch before this. His eyes were warm, but there was something unsure beneath it.
"What are you doing here," I asked. "Thought you were with Namjoon."
"I was," he said, stepping in. "Then I wanted to see you."
He said it so casually that my chest tightened a little.
"Sit," I muttered, pointing at the small couch.
He sat, pulling one knee up. "You've been quiet."
"I'm always quiet."
"No. Not like this."
I raised an eyebrow. "You studying me now?"
"Maybe," he answered, smiling a little.
That smile. It always hit me in places I pretended didn't exist.
I pushed myself away from the desk and turned toward him. "What's going on with you lately?"
He blinked, surprised that I asked first. "What do you mean?"
"You look at me like you're waiting for something."
Jimin didn't speak for a moment. He ran his fingers through his hair, then dropped his hand.
"I don't know how to say it without sounding strange."
"Try."
He met my eyes. "I feel close to you in a way I don't understand."
His voice didn't shake. Mine almost did.
I swallowed slowly. "Jimin…"
He stood up and walked toward me, stopping only when he was right in front of my knees. His voice went soft.
"I see Taehyung and Jungkook figuring out their feelings. And I'm happy for them. But it makes me look at the people in my life differently."
I didn't breathe.
"I'm not saying I want something right now," he said. "I don't want to rush anything. But I want to be honest with you. You mean a lot to me. More than I expected."
My heart hit the inside of my chest like it was trying to move upward.
I looked at the floor to steady myself. "You don't play fair."
"I'm not playing."
He sat on the arm of my chair, close enough that I felt the heat of his body against my shoulder.
Then he whispered, "Do you want distance? If this makes you uncomfortable, I'll pull back."
I turned to him. Slowly. Deliberately. Our eyes met at the midpoint.
"Don't pull back," I said.
He didn't inhale sharply, but I felt the shift of his breath. "So… this isn't one-sided?"
"You're too perceptive," I muttered.
A small laugh escaped him, quiet but honest. He lowered his hand onto my arm, fingers light, testing. I didn't move away.
"Yoongi…"
"I said don't rush," I reminded him. My voice was steady. "But if you want to stay close, stay close."
His shoulders relaxed, like tension melted right off him. He leaned his head on my shoulder, gentle, warm, familiar in a new way.
We sat like that for a while. No confessions. No answers. No labels.
Just two people acknowledging something that had been simmering beneath the surface for long.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft enough to blend with the quiet hum of the studio.
"This feels safe."
I closed my eyes for a moment. "Yeah. It does."
The beat on the speakers looped again, slow and steady. And for the first time all night, my mind felt clear.
Something was growing here. Not loud. Not rushed. Something real.