CHAPTER 1: SHADOWS IN THE LIBRARY
Namjoon had always liked the quiet corners. The kind where nobody talked, nobody noticed, and everything seemed softer—like the world had paused just for him.
Which was why he didn't expect to see Yoongi there.
Sitting at a table by the window, pencil in hand, head bent over pages of notes, hair falling into his eyes. So calm. So distant. So unreachable.
Namjoon froze in the doorway, unsure if he should call out or pretend he didn't see him.
"You're early," Yoongi said without looking up. His voice was neutral, careful.
"I… uh, just came to study," Namjoon replied, walking over slowly.
Yoongi hummed, barely a nod. The silence stretched between them—comfortable for some, suffocating for Namjoon.
It had been like this for weeks now. Yoongi avoiding his usual smiles, brushing off his attempts to start small conversations, retreating into his own world. And Namjoon didn't know what he had done wrong. Or if it was even about him at all.
He sat down across from him, notebook open, pretending to write, pretending the quiet didn't make his chest ache.
Yoongi glanced up then, just once, and Namjoon thought he saw something flicker in his dark eyes. Guilt? Sadness? Or maybe Namjoon was imagining things.
"Are you okay?" Namjoon asked softly, voice barely above the scratching of pens and rustling of pages.
Yoongi's pencil paused mid-line. "I'm fine," he said.
But the way his hands trembled slightly, the way his shoulders slumped just a fraction, told Namjoon the truth.
Something was wrong.
And Namjoon knew it had nothing to do with the library.
Namjoon tried to focus on his notes, but every line felt blurry. He could feel Yoongi's gaze like it was pressing against the back of his neck, though he hadn't looked up once.
"Are you… thinking about something?" Namjoon asked finally, trying to sound casual.
Yoongi froze, pencil hovering over the page. "…Maybe," he muttered. His voice was low, careful. Not a lie, not a confession. Just… a hint of something unspoken.
Namjoon nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. He wanted to ask more—wanted to know what "maybe" meant—but he stopped himself.
This was Yoongi. He didn't share unless he chose to. And Namjoon had learned a long time ago that pushing too hard only made things worse.
So he wrote in his notebook instead. Quietly. Slowly. Pretending the silence wasn't… stretching into something heavy.
Minutes passed. Then, just as Namjoon's pencil stopped mid-sentence, Yoongi's hand twitched. Not to reach, not to grab—but as if he'd been about to say something and reconsidered.
Namjoon caught it. Heart beating too fast, but he didn't look up. "You don't have to," he said softly, though he wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or to Yoongi.
Yoongi's pencil fell to the table with a soft thud. His eyes met Namjoon's for a fraction of a second—sharp, unreadable, and then gone. He looked down, turned a page, and whispered, "…I know."
Namjoon's chest tightened. That "I know" carried everything he didn't want to admit. Hurt, confusion, distance, regret. And yet… it was honest.
He finally looked up. Yoongi was staring at the window now, shoulders tense, lost in something Namjoon couldn't reach. Not yet.
And in that silence, Namjoon realized something painfully simple: they were both holding on. Just not to each other—yet.
Namjoon tried to focus on the equations in front of him, but every few seconds his pencil paused. He could feel Yoongi's presence like a shadow, light but impossible to ignore.
"…You're quiet," Namjoon said finally, his voice breaking the silence.
Yoongi didn't answer immediately. He tapped the pencil against the notebook, eyes still fixed on the window. "I guess I'm just… thinking," he said softly, the words careful, deliberate, like each one weighed too much.
Namjoon's throat tightened. Thinking about what? Him? Something else? He didn't ask. He had learned to read Yoongi's silences instead of trying to fill them with questions.
Minutes passed. Namjoon scribbled notes, his hand moving faster than his mind. Every so often, he stole a glance at Yoongi. Each glance felt like trying to reach across a wall, a wall neither of them had built but both were trapped behind.
Finally, Yoongi's pencil slipped off the notebook and hit the desk with a soft tap. He looked up, just for a moment, and met Namjoon's eyes. Something flickered there—regret? guilt? Namjoon couldn't tell, but the brief connection made his chest tighten.
"I… I should probably get going soon," Yoongi said, almost too casually.
Namjoon blinked, the words hitting him like a gentle shove. "Oh… yeah?"
"Yeah," Yoongi repeated. His gaze drifted away again, to somewhere Namjoon couldn't reach.
Namjoon swallowed, nodding slowly. "…Okay."
He watched Yoongi pack up silently, his movements careful, deliberate, like he was leaving a part of himself behind. Namjoon wanted to say something—stay, wait, please don't go—but the words wouldn't come.
As Yoongi walked toward the door, Namjoon felt the weight of all the unspoken words between them. He realized something he wasn't ready to admit: the longer Yoongi stayed quiet, the more Namjoon's heart ached—not with anger, but with a quiet, slow-burning worry.
Yoongi paused at the doorway, hand on the handle. He looked back at Namjoon, eyes soft, almost unreadable. Then he left.
The click of the door echoed in the empty room.
Namjoon stared at the door for a long moment, the silence settling heavy around him. He wanted answers. He wanted clarity. But most of all, he wanted to understand Yoongi—without pushing him away.
And he realized, painfully, that maybe understanding him was the hardest part of all.