Jungkook didn't realize he was staring—
until Taehyung noticed.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?" Taehyung asked, one brow lifting slightly.
Jungkook blinked and quickly looked away. "I'm not."
"Yes, you are," Jimin said immediately. "You've been doing it for a while."
Hoseok nodded. "Like… really intensely."
Jungkook cleared his throat. "I just—"
He stopped himself.
The face.
The angle of Taehyung's eyes.
The calm curve of his expression.
It was wrong. Or rather—too familiar.
The sketch.
The old, worn paper.
The man his grandmother's house that he saw.
Jungkook's chest tightened.
"…You look like someone I've seen before," Jungkook said quietly.
The group slowed their steps.
Seokjin glanced at Taehyung. "You do?"
Taehyung frowned slightly. "I do?"
Jungkook nodded. "An old sketch. From my grandmother's house. I don't know why, but when I look at you—"
He swallowed.
"It feels the same."
The wind rustled through the trees as they continued walking, the Jeon residence now visible in the distance—large, traditional, unmistakably noble.
Namjoon broke the silence. "That's strange."
"Strange but poetic," Hoseok added.
Jimin smiled softly. "Maybe memories don't disappear. They just… change places."
Seokjin snorted. "That was surprisingly deep."
They walked together, all seven of them, surrounding Jungkook as if unconsciously protecting him. As they went, they talked—sometimes overlapping, sometimes arguing, sometimes laughing.
"You used to hate waking up early," Jimin said.
"And loved sneaking out," Hoseok added.
"You were bad at sword training," Seokjin said bluntly.
"I was not!" Jungkook protested.
"You cried the first time," Taehyung said calmly.
Everyone turned to him.
Jungkook stared. "…I did?"
Taehyung nodded. "You said your arms were 'betraying you.'"
Jimin burst out laughing. "I remember that!"
Jungkook covered his face. "Please stop."
Despite himself, he laughed too—softly, confused, but warm.
By the time they reached the gates of the Jeon household, Jungkook's head felt full. Not painful—just crowded. Like a room slowly filling with furniture he didn't remember buying.
The servants bowed immediately.
"Lord Jeon has returned."
Jungkook stiffened.
Taehyung stepped closer without hesitation, lowering his voice. "Watch me."
Jungkook nodded.
Taehyung moved first—back straight, steps measured. He bowed at the perfect angle, hands placed neatly, expression calm and respectful.
Jungkook tried to copy him.
"Not too deep," Taehyung murmured. "You never bowed too deeply."
"Of course I didn't," Jungkook muttered. "That would require confidence."
Taehyung almost smiled.
Inside the house, Taehyung stayed beside him, guiding him with quiet gestures—when to pause, when to step forward, how to sit, how to speak.
"Slow down," Taehyung whispered at one point. "You rush when you're nervous."
Jungkook froze. "I do?"
"Yes," Taehyung replied simply. "You always have."
Something about that—about being known so easily—made Jungkook's chest ache again.
As they entered the main hall, Jungkook followed Taehyung's lead perfectly.
No one noticed anything wrong.
Except Jungkook himself.
Because with every step, every bow, every movement—
his body remembered, even if his mind didn't.
And standing beside Taehyung, guiding him like it had always been this way—
Jungkook felt it clearly.
Some bonds were not made once.
They were carried.
Across time.
Across lives.
And he was certain now—
The resemblance he saw was not a coincidence.