Chapter Text
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The apartment building looked exactly the same as it had during his previous visits.
Jeongguk wasn't sure why that surprised him. It wasn't the brick and mortar that had changed; it was the weight of his own presence. For the first time, he wasn't pulling up for a fleeting weekend or a holiday transition.
He was here to stay.
The realization settled heavily over him as he stood by the entrance, one hand gripping the handlebar of his Harley while the other adjusted the stiff strap of his pack. Everything he apparently needed to survive the next week was crammed into that single, heavy-duty riding pack. The rest of his life would arrive later, packed into the back of his older brother's car the following week.
"Traveling light?"
Jeongguk looked up.
Seokjin was leaning against the building’s glass door, arms crossed over his chest and an amused, knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"I have more stuff," Jeongguk defended immediately, his defensive Busan pride flaring out of habit.
"Sure you do."
"Junghyun-hyung is bringing the rest next week."
"And until then?"
Jeongguk shrugged, shifting his weight away from the heavy bike. "I'll survive."
Seokjin stared at the backpack, then at the massive cruiser motorcycle, completely unimpressed. "That's exactly the kind of cockiness that strikes right before a man realizes he forgot his underwear."
Jeongguk laughed, swinging a playful, harmless kick toward Seokjin’s shin. “Shut up, hyung.”
The two continued their practiced, comfortable bickering all the way inside, the heavy glass doors shutting out the hum of the Seoul streets behind them.
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"You’re lucky I’m an incredibly generous soul," Seokjin said, keying the passcode into the apartment door and pushing it open. "You better be a model roommate, Jeongguk-ah." His tone hovered in that classic space between a genuine warning and a joke.
Jeongguk nodded automatically. "Mmm."
The response came out so fast that Seokjin openly doubted a single word had actually registered.
Stepping across the threshold, Jeongguk dropped his backpack heavily beside the frame of the bed. He let his gaze drift across the space, slowly taking it in. The walls had been repainted a crisp, clean white only a few weeks prior. The old, warped shelves that used to groan under the weight of Seokjin's forgotten college junk had been cleared out and rearranged. A small, sturdy desk sat beneath the window, catching the afternoon light, and fresh, taut sheets covered the mattress.
For years, this room had been nothing more than Jin's glorified graveyard for cardboard boxes. Now, it actually looked like a sanctuary.
Jeongguk turned a slow circle on his heel. "It's nice."
The simple admission made the ghost of Seokjin's complaints melt away. All those hours of scrubbing, hauling boxes, and wrestling with flat-pack furniture suddenly felt worth it.
"Nice?" Seokjin scoffed, though his shoulders relaxed. "That's all the praise I get? I nearly developed a respiratory illness cleaning this place out."
That pulled a genuine grin from Jeongguk. "You did not."
"I absolutely did. I uncovered artifacts in here from my high school graduation. It was a hazardous waste zone."
Jeongguk smiled, running his palm over the smooth, clean edge of the desk. The room wasn't fancy. It wasn't particularly large, either. But as the breeze filtered through the slightly open window, it carried a distinct sense of ownership.
It was his.
The tight knot of anxiety that had been nesting in his chest since he crossed the Seoul city limits finally loosened. He only had three shirts and a laptop to his name today, but standing there, surrounded by walls his cousin had spent days prepping just for him, the unfamiliar city outside felt a little less daunting.
Seokjin watched him quietly from the doorway, his expression softening for a fraction of a second before he cleared his throat loudly. "Don't get emotional on me."
"I'm not emotional."
"You have the face."
"What face?"
"The one where your nose wrinkles up like a sentimental puppy."
Jeongguk scoffed, rolling his eyes as he bent down to unzip his bag. "Whatever you say, hyung."
"There it is," Seokjin pointed an accusing finger. "That immediate disrespect. I knew hosting a freshman was a mistake."
"You've been saying that since I parked my bike."
"Because you keep proving me right." Seokjin lingered for a moment longer before pushing himself away from the doorframe. "Anyway, make yourself at home. Bathroom's down the hall. I'm going to throw dinner together."
Jeongguk glanced up over his shoulder. "Need help?"
"Nah. You rode that monster all the way up from Busan. Just unpack your life."
Jeongguk’s life currently consisted of three t-shirts, two pairs of denim, a week's worth of underwear and socks, his laptop, chargers, a camera, a galaxy lamp, and his trusty heavy-duty extension cord. There wasn't much to arrange, but Jeongguk nodded anyway. "Thanks, hyung."
The door clicked shut, leaving him in the sudden quiet. Jeongguk took one last look at the pristine space, a small, quiet smile breaking across his face before he grabbed a freshly washed bathrobe and slipped out toward the bathroom.
In the kitchen, Seokjin was already rolling up his sleeves. Some habits were hard to break, and after years of being the oldest, taking care of the people around him had become as natural as breathing.
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The apartment was entirely quiet by the time Jeongguk stepped out of the bathroom.
A damp towel hung around his neck as he ran a hand through his wet hair, the steam from the shower having successfully worked out the knots in his shoulders after that long highway ride.
"Hyung?" he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the hallway.
No answer.
Jeongguk frowned, adjusting the towel. A few minutes ago, Seokjin had been hovering like a helicopter parent, fussing over the thread count of the blankets and the placement of hangers. Now, the space was entirely still.
"Hyung?"
Nothing.
Curiosity piqued, Jeongguk wandered further into the main living space. The rich, savory aroma of toasted sesame oil and seasoned beef immediately hit his nose, making his stomach give an embarrassing, audible growl.
On the kitchen island sat two large bowls of bibimbap, neatly covered to trap the heat. Freshly assembled. Still radiating warmth.
Jeongguk stared at them, then blinked at the empty living room, then looked back at the food.
"...Huh." Had Seokjin seriously abandoned a freshly cooked meal and left it completely unattended? A dangerous, highly uncharacteristic move for a man who guarded his kitchen like a fortress.
Jeongguk leaned his hip against the counter, contemplating sneaking a piece of beef. Maybe Jin had just gone downstairs to grab a soda. Maybe he was throwing out the trash. His cousin was capable of a lot of theatrical antics, but abandoning food wasn't usually one of them.
He was still intensely plotting his culinary theft when the sharp, distinct sound of the front door's digital lock chiming snapped him out of his thoughts.
The door clicked open.
"Oh," Jeongguk muttered, turning around. "Hyung, where did you—"
The words died instantly in his throat.
A stranger stood in the entryway.
The stranger froze, one hand still resting on the doorknob. Jeongguk froze, a damp towel still draped over his robe-covered shoulders.
They stared at each other. The stranger blinked, dark eyes widening slightly beneath a soft fringe of hair. Jeongguk blinked back, his entire body going rigid. Three incredibly tense, silent seconds stretched between them.
Then, Jeongguk’s fight-or-flight instincts—honed by years of dealing with rowdy Busan neighborhoods—slammed into high gear.
"Hey!" Jeongguk shouted, his voice booming in the quiet apartment.
The stranger visibly jumped, nearly dropping the plastic convenience store bag in his hand.
"Who the fuck are you?!" Jeongguk barked, taking a menacing step forward.
The stranger’s eyebrows shot straight up into his hair, his lips parting in sheer, unadulterated disbelief. "Huh?"