Hands carefully rubbed the back of his keepsake.
Slow, steady, as if gentleness could undo what time and pain already carved too deep.

Jungkook didn’t dare breathe too loud. The weight on his chest was fragile---Taehyung asleep, face buried against the hollow of his throat, breaths barely there. Every inhale brushed against his skin, like something uncertain still testing if it deserved to exist.