Spring Day // Kim Taehyung ( V )

Chapter 14

Elation bubbled within me as I finally crafted a line—or maybe more—for our song. We were once again in my apartment, working side by side, pouring effort into the lyrics. Jackson watched me intently, his brow furrowing slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"I've got something," I announced softly, a hint of pride in my voice. "It's in English, though. I'm not sure how to translate it into Korean yet." I leaned against the kitchen counter, exhaling a quiet sigh, feeling both nervous and excited about sharing my creation.

We had agreed to write a Korean song; it felt fair, considering the others would be composing in their native language. Plus, I knew I needed to improve my Korean—this was a step towards that goal.

Jackson reached for my notebook, eyes narrowing slightly as he began reading. I watched him closely, noting the way his expression softened, a gentle smile forming as he absorbed the words. Occasionally, he looked up at me, eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and intrigue, before returning to the page.

After a moment, he looked up again, handing the notebook back with a satisfied smile.

"So," he asked, voice calm but warm, "where did these lyrics come from? They feel... genuine."

I hesitated, then shrugged with a small, uncertain smile. "Honestly, I don't know. It just sort of happened—like the words found me rather than the other way around."

Jackson studied me for a beat longer, as if trying to decipher what I wasn't saying. There was something about the way he looked at me—like he believed there was more beneath the surface, more than I was willing to admit.

In that quiet moment, I realized that this song was more than just words; it was a glimpse into my unspoken thoughts, my hopes, and perhaps even my fears. And Jackson, in his own way, saw that too

*Jackson's voice broke through my thoughts. "What I meant was, your mom's beautiful," he said softly, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach tighten.

I hesitated, caught between confusion and uncertainty. Was Jackson truly my inspiration—someone whose presence stirred something deeper within me? Or was I simply projecting feelings I wasn't ready to confront? The truth was, I was afraid to find out. Admitting I might like him felt like stepping into uncharted territory, and honestly, I wasn't sure I was prepared for that.

Yesterday's moments kept replaying in my mind—the way Jackson looked at me, the subtle smile he gave, the gentle kiss on my cheek. I told myself it was nothing, just a friendly gesture, but beneath that, a strange warmth lingered. Why did I start to feel as if my feelings toward him were shifting, becoming something more than just friendship? The line between them blurred, and it left me feeling vulnerable and uncertain.

Jackson's smirk pulled me back to the present. "You know, a picture would last longer," he teased, a playful edge in his voice.

I blinked, startled to realize I'd been staring. Embarrassment flushed through me as I quickly averted my gaze and bit my lower lip, feeling my cheeks heat up. Great. Stupid George, I thought bitterly, wishing I could disappear.

"I'm done with mine," Jackson said casually, breaking the silence. I moved closer, trying to compose myself, but inside, my thoughts were racing.

I found myself utterly absorbed in his words, my gaze fixed on him as he spoke. It wasn't that I assumed those words were directed at me, but somehow, my feelings blurred that line. All I knew was that I couldn't look away. His smile when he said those words—each syllable deliberate and soft—held me captive. He was undeniably beautiful, no—perfect in a way that felt almost surreal.

I loved how his brown hair moved naturally with his slightest gestures, as if animated by an unspoken rhythm. His eyes, always gentle yet piercing, would light up with a quiet warmth whenever he smiled, and I found myself drawn into that expression. His lips, soft and seemingly always on the verge of a smile, made me want to mirror that happiness. Just watching him, I felt an uncontrollable urge to smile myself, as if his presence alone was enough to lift my spirits.

I sat there, lost in reckless admiration, unconcerned with everything else around me. My mind was empty, overwhelmed by this strange, intense focus. I didn't notice that he had begun to look at me too—until our eyes met, and suddenly, the space between us seemed to narrow.

His gaze was magnetic, capable of stirring a quiet tremor within me. When he looked at me in that way, my heart fluttered uncontrollably. He shifted his gaze to my lips and then back to my eyes, as if weighing a decision. And then, in a swift, almost hesitant motion, his lips pressed softly against mine. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, my thoughts scattering in chaos. My head spun, and I felt my entire body tensing up under the weight of that moment. We were both lost in it—me in the sensation, him in the silent acknowledgment of what was unfolding.

But then, I pulled away suddenly, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I couldn't meet his eyes anymore; I turned my face aside, feeling overwhelmed and exposed.

"L-Let's focus on coming up with a melody,yeah?" he said quietly, breaking the tension. His voice was steady, but I caught a flicker of uncertainty that he tried to hide. He paused for a moment, as if processing what had just happened, then offered a small, reassuring smile.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," I managed, voice trembling slightly, still trying to steady myself.

And in that moment, despite the chaos of my feelings, I realized that some connections are too fragile to grasp in the heat of the moment—yet, somehow, they linger, waiting to be explored further.

-

The day was winding down, and the room gradually emptied as the boys gathered in the kitchen, the aroma of dinner filling the air. Jackson was already preparing to leave, his usual hurried departure. He had promised his mother he'd be home for dinner, and despite the lingering warmth of our conversation, he excused himself with a quick smile.

At the gate, I found myself walking alongside him, silence settling comfortably between us. As we reached the threshold, he hesitated, then broke the quiet.

"Hey," he said softly, stopping in his tracks. "Thanks for today."

I nodded, feeling a faint flush rise in my cheeks. "You're welcome. And thank you, too." My voice felt steadier than I expected, though my heart fluttered unexpectedly at his genuine smile—an expression that always seemed to pierce straight through me.

He looked down briefly, scratching the back of his neck, a hint of shyness flickering across his face. "See you tomorrow?"

I hesitated for a moment before replying, "Yeah. See you then." My lips pressed into a small, involuntary smile, betraying the nervous energy coursing through me.

He raised a hand in a casual wave, and I responded in kind. Watching him turn and walk away, I remained rooted to the spot until he disappeared from sight.

I closed the gate slowly, leaning against its sturdy frame. My fingers brushed my lips, recalling the brief contact we shared just moments ago. A smile crept onto my face, warm and almost disbelief-inducing. I was overwhelmed with happiness—so much so that I wanted to cry, but I held back. Instead, I closed my eyes, allowing myself a quiet moment to process everything.

Deep down, I knew this wasn't a dream. It was real. The feeling of Jackson's kiss lingered, vivid and undeniable. And in that moment, I realized that what I'd always hoped for—what I'd only dared to imagine—had finally come true.

Jackson and I kissed.