Inside the Room
Yn entered the room quietly, the soft click of the door almost lost in the hum of the air conditioner. Her heart was still thudding from the chaos of the day, and exhaustion clung to her bones. She noticed the closed washroom door and let out a soft sigh of relief. At least he’s not here right now.
She dropped her bag to the side and sat on the chair beside the bed, pulling out her phone — not because she had anything urgent to check, but because the silence around her felt too heavy. Distraction. That’s what she needed.
Just then, the bathroom door creaked open.
Taehyung walked out, a towel lazily draped over his head, obscuring part of his face as he rubbed his wet hair in lazy, unbothered strokes. Droplets of water glided down his bare chest, tracing the lines of his toned abs, glistening under the soft chandelier light like silver threads. His broad shoulders relaxed as he exhaled, completely unaware of her presence.
Yn didn’t notice him at first. Her eyes were still glued to her phone, her mind miles away. She stood up slowly, intending to go grab her water bottle. The chair was close to the bed, leaving barely enough space between them.
And then — like fate held its breath — they collided.
Taehyung (startled, trying to balance): “Woah—!”
Their bodies crashed, and time seemed to blur.
He stumbled back, his eyes going wide in shock as his heel hit the edge of the bed. Gravity took over, and he fell backward with a soft thud — but before he could process the fall, Yn, too shocked to stop herself, landed right on top of him.
Her palms pressed against his bare chest, her whole body tensing. The coldness of his skin met the heat of her touch. Her hair spilled over his face like a waterfall, brushing his cheeks, tickling his lips.
Silence.
Not even the air dared to move.
Yn’s heart pounded so loudly she swore he could hear it. Her breaths were short, shallow, caught somewhere between panic and disbelief. Her cheeks burned, eyes wide as the weight of the situation settled on her.
Taehyung’s chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her touch. His arms lay frozen at his sides, every muscle stiffened in surprise. Her scent wrapped around him — soft, like jasmine and rain. His lips parted slightly, barely able to breathe with her face just inches from his.
Their eyes met.
For a single breathless moment, the world outside ceased to exist. All that remained was the thundering of hearts and the invisible thread pulling them dangerously close.
Taehyung (wide-eyed): “W-What the hell are you doing?”
His voice broke the trance, snapping her back to reality.
Yn (shocked, flustered): “I–I wasn’t looking! It was an accident!”
She scrambled to get up, her limbs awkward, as if they’d forgotten how to move. But as she pushed against the bed, her hand slipped on the same damp skin, making her lose balance again. Her elbow nudged his side, earning a grunt from him.
Taehyung (annoyed): “Yah! Stop moving! You're making it worse!”
Yn: “Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
Her voice cracked mid-sentence. She finally pushed herself up and stood straight, brushing her hair out of her red face, breath rugged and uneven. Her heart still hadn’t settled. She didn’t dare look at him — not after that.
Taehyung (sitting up, glaring): “Next time, watch where you’re going.”
His voice was sharp, but his gaze betrayed the chaos inside him. He wasn’t used to losing control — especially not like this.
Yn (mumbling): “Maybe wear a shirt next time...”
Her words were soft, but they carried enough weight to make his brow twitch. She still avoided his eyes.
Taehyung (smirking): “Oh? Distracted, were you?”
That smirk curled at the corner of his lips — arrogant, teasing, yet somehow lacking its usual venom. A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes.
Yn (avoiding eye contact): “In your dreams.”
Her voice was low, her throat dry. But her glare finally returned — the same fire back in her eyes, even if her cheeks still betrayed her.
They locked eyes again for a second — tension crackling like a storm between them. Then Yn huffed, turned on her heel, and stormed into the washroom, shutting the door with a loud thud.
Taehyung sat there, staring at the closed door. His chest still rose and fell with uneven breaths. For a long moment, he just sat still, blinking.
Then, unexpectedly… a soft chuckle escaped his lips.
It was quiet. Unintentional.
But the moment he realised he was smiling — he froze.
His expression dropped instantly, replaced by a frown.
Taehyung (muttering to himself): “What the hell…”
He smacked the side of his head lightly, as if trying to shake off the thought.
Taehyung: “Snap out of it, Kim Taehyung.”
His voice was firm, almost like a command. He exhaled sharply and turned toward the wardrobe, his jaw clenched, his expression cold and unreadable again — like nothing had happened.
******