Wrong number? || BTS

49. Fresh Air

Y/N's POV

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The room was dark and quiet, the only sound was the gentle rhythm of Jin's breathing beside me. I blinked slowly, my throat dry. I was thirsty.

But something about the stillness... made me pause.

I turned my head, eyes settling on him. Jin.

His face was turned slightly toward me, soft in sleep. No jokes, no teasing-just calm. He looked... safe. Like home. And for a moment, I just stared, letting the silence stretch as my fingers unconsciously clutched the bedsheet.

He had done so much for me today. Protected me when I didn't ask, stayed when I didn't speak, cared when I didn't even know how to explain what I was feeling. My throat tightened again-but this time, it wasn't from thirst.

I leaned in slightly, brushing a stray hair off his forehead, then gently ran my fingers through his hair. My touch lingered, slow and careful. He didn't wake-just breathed out a soft, content sigh.

"Thank you..." I whispered, voice barely above a breath. "For everything."

I stayed like that a few more seconds, memorizing the way he looked in that moment. Warm. Constant. Someone I didn't know I needed.

Then, moving with extra care, I slowly shifted out of his arms. He stirred slightly but didn't wake. My hand hesitated at the edge of the blanket before tucking it gently around his shoulder.

With one last glance, I tiptoed out of the room, grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, and wandered toward the balcony-trying not to think about the ache in my chest that wasn't from thirst at all.

Sliding open the balcony door, I stepped out into the night. The breeze was cool against my skin, rustling my hair as I leaned slightly over the railing, the lights of Seoul twinkling below. I hugged the bottle to my chest and just breathed.

"Couldn't sleep?"

I jumped a little at the familiar voice. Turning, I saw Namjoon at the doorway, his hair messy, wearing a loose hoodie and sweats. Behind him, Yoongi followed silently, holding a can of peach soda.

"God-" I exhaled, chuckling under my breath. "You scared me."

"Didn't mean to," Namjoon said, stepping out. "Saw the kitchen light on."

Yoongi didn't say anything at first. He just leaned against the railing beside me, eyes focused on the distant city lights. Then he spoke, his voice low and casual, "You looked like someone knocked all the emotions out of you earlier."

I gave a soft laugh. "Maybe they did."

He took a sip from his soda, then turned slightly toward me. "What? Were you scared we were ghosts or something?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, playing along. "A little. You guys do have that habit of appearing out of nowhere."

Yoongi smirked. "If we were ghosts, we wouldn't bother walking out here quietly. We'd just haunt you straight in your room."

Namjoon let out a quiet snort of laughter while I stared at Yoongi, amused. "Wow. Comforting."

Yoongi just shrugged, a small smirk forming. "I'm just saying-it takes effort to be here. So... you're not alone, even if it feels like it."

Then Yoongi's smirk faded just a little, his voice dropping softer-more real. "But honestly... if we didn't care, we wouldn't be here. We're not here to haunt you, Y/N. We're here because you matter."