Heartbeat // JK

19- Miss Me?

I shoved the door open with my shoulder, too tired to fumble with the lock the way I usually did. The handle stuck like always, but I didn't curse it this time. I just let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

The apartment was dim. Not dark — just hushed, like the walls were holding their breath, waiting to see who had come back through the door.

I stepped inside like someone who had forgotten what home was supposed to feel like. My keys hit the counter too hard, the clatter sharp enough to startle me in the quiet.

I didn't take my shoes off right away. I just stood there, bag still slung over my shoulder, hands hanging loose at my sides, my chest tight in a way that had nothing to do with singing.

The late sunlight spilled across the hardwood at an angle, soft and golden, like it was trying to be kind.

Finally, I moved. Toed off one shoe, then the other. Shrugged out of my jacket, every motion slow, as though my body was still catching up to me.

My eyes drifted across the apartment like I was expecting it to be different somehow, rearranged in my absence. Like maybe the version of myself who had walked out this morning wasn't the same one dragging herself back in now.

I stepped farther into the apartment, the quiet folding around me so tightly it almost hummed. Something was off. I couldn't name it at first, but the air felt... disturbed.

My eyes caught the couch. The throw blanket I'd left crumpled that morning was folded into a sharp square over the armrest. Too neat. Too deliberate.

I frowned.

On the coffee table, a glass sat half-full, condensation still trailing down the side. I hadn't poured anything before I left.

I turned toward the counter. The stack of mail that I'd dumped down in a lopsided mess was straighter now, shifted just enough for me to notice.

My chest tightened. My bag strap slid on my shoulder, and I grabbed at it too fast, the keys in my hand clinking like an alarm in the silence.

Someone had been here.

I froze by the counter, every sound magnified — the hum of the fridge, the creak in the hallway radiator, my own pulse hammering in my ears. My mouth was dry.

My brain scrambled for explanations that made sense — landlord? delivery mistake? my own bad memory? But none of them fit.

The strap of my bag cut into my shoulder as I shifted my weight. I should have moved, should have checked the rooms, but my feet stayed nailed to the floor.

And then—

Warm hands slid over my eyes from behind.

The shock ripped the air out of my lungs. My keys slipped, metal clattering against the counter edge before I caught them at the last second.

Then came the voice — low, close enough to stir every nerve in me. Familiar enough to undo me.

"Miss me?"

My whole body locked. My knees went weak, my breath jammed in my throat.

No. It couldn't be.

He was supposed to be in another state. Another timezone.

I tore his hands off my eyes and spun around too fast. My bag slid off my shoulder, keys nearly flying. My foot caught the edge of the rug and I almost went down — but then I saw him.

And everything in me stopped.

Jungkook.

The hood of his sweatshirt shadowed his face, but I would've known him anywhere. That grin — soft, crooked, the kind that always looks like he's laughing at some private joke. And his eyes — lit up, alive, like he'd just won a bet against the universe.