THE COLOUR OF SILENCE

The roar of Jungkook's engine usually drowned out the world, a mechanical scream that matched the restless riot in his chest. He was a boy built for collision-for the muddy impact of the football field and the blurred adrenaline of a needle hitting 140 km/h on a blind curve. But the moment he saw Eunji, the noise stopped.

She was a fracture in his reality, a girl made of soft sighs and charcoal dust who moved through the school like a secret no one was supposed to find. Watching her paint, Jungkook felt a brand-new kind of violence stirring within him-not the urge to break things, but a fierce, terrifying need to build a wall around her. He wanted to scoop her up, tuck her behind the heavy leather of his jacket, and hide her away from every prying eye and jagged sound of the world. For the first time in his life, the boy who lived for the chase found himself hopelessly anchored by a girl who didn't say a word, yet spoke louder than his loudest rebellion.