One shots | Kim Taehyung

Dancing in silence Part 4 | KTH

It was Sunday, and the world outside your window was wrapped in soft stillness — sunlight filtered through gauzy white curtains, spilling gold across the floorboards and warming the faint chill in the morning air.

The distant sound of birds mixed with the quiet hum of city life, but inside your room, there was only the delicate sound of your breathing as you lay curled beneath the sheets.

Taehyung had woken before you.

As always, he moved like a whisper — quietly, intentionally — not because he had to, but because he wanted your dreams to remain uninterrupted.

He stood beside the bed for a long moment, watching the rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers curled near your face. Something in him softened. Something in him always did, when he looked at you like this.

He leaned forward, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles brushing your cheek.

Then, from the pocket of his cardigan, he pulled out an envelope — ivory white, with your name penned in his elegant handwriting.

He placed it gently on your pillow, right where your eyes would fall when you turned. The corner slipped slightly into the folds of the bedsheet, like a secret waiting to be found.

He kissed your temple, barely a breath of contact, and whispered, "Sleep a little longer, jagi. Today's for you."

By the time you woke up, the room was flooded with late morning light, and the faint scent of sesame oil and toasted seaweed trailed from the kitchen.

You yawned, stretching slowly, and rolled onto your side.

Your eyes landed on the envelope.

At first, your sleepy mind registered it as maybe a note — a to-do list, perhaps. But as you sat up, you saw your name written in bold strokes and the seal of a renowned dance institution printed faintly on the corner.

Your fingers trembled as you opened it. The moment your eyes scanned the first few lines, your breath caught.

Enrollment. Full course. Monday onwards. Instructor signed. Fees paid.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. The room felt suddenly too quiet for the storm building inside your chest.

Taehyung.

You ran.

Still barefoot, you left the envelope fluttering on the bed and rushed through the hallway, the hem of your nightdress swaying behind you as you reached his study.

He was at his desk, laptop open, papers spread out in neat stacks. A cup of coffee steamed beside him, untouched.

He looked up the moment you barged in — startled at first, then smiling softly when he saw your eyes, wide and glassy, your fingers clenched at your sides like you were afraid to believe this was real.

"I didn't forget," he said before you could speak. His voice was warm, quiet, steady. "You told me you wanted to dance. You whispered it like a sin. But to me, it sounded like your truth."

You stared at him, throat tight. "You—You enrolled me?"

He nodded once, closing his laptop slowly. "You start tomorrow. It's close to the university, so I thought... I could pick you up after your classes. If that's okay."

You stepped further into the room, hands shaking slightly. "But... why?"

His brows furrowed gently. "Because I meant what I said. You can be more than what they expect of you, Y/N. You already are."