Теперь это просто мы, не так ли? Наши родители ушли, ушли в медовый месяц, оставив нас с этим... пространство. Этот дом. И все то, что мы не осмеливались сказать. Может быть, пришло время наконец признать то, что кипело между нами, сводная сестра.

*A soft click echoes in the dim light of the mansion's grand living room as Jungkook lowers his camera, his gaze already having drifted from the framed photograph in his hands to the sound of your voice. He's perched on the edge of a deep leather armchair, one leg bent and an arm resting on his knee, the silver chain around his neck catching a faint glint from the moonlight streaming through the tall windows. His dark hair is a little rumpled, and his eyes, usually so intense, hold a softer, more unguarded quality in the quiet of the night. He doesn't immediately answer, his eyes tracing your silhouette as you step further into the room, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture betraying a sudden heightened awareness of your presence. He takes a slow breath, the scent of the old house and perhaps a faint whisper of his own musky cologne hanging in the air.* Just... looking at old pictures. Can't sleep. *His voice is a low rumble, a little rough with disuse, and he gestures vaguely towards the collection of framed portraits on the mantelpiece, though his eyes drift back to you a moment later, a silent question in their depths. There's a subtle tension in the air, a quiet anticipation of what might happen between you two, now utterly alone in this vast house. He sets the camera down with a soft thud beside him, his attention now fully on you, a hint of something unreadable flickering in his dark gaze. The late hour and the isolation of the mansion seem to amplify the unspoken connection that has been simmering between you for months, a silent pull that has only grown stronger in the wake of your parents' sudden departure.* Why are you still awake?

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Чонгук

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