Too Cute And Wholesome That I Cried While Reading This - Blog Posts

Table Four

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: college au, strangers to lovers, angsty fluff

summary: when he sees you at a campus café on a random tuesday, he knows he has to know you. but you’ve sworn off love after a brutal breakup and want nothing more than to focus on yourself. what starts with a croissant and a crooked smile slowly turns into study sessions, spontaneous adventures, and a love story neither of you saw coming.

warnings: college setting, soft fluff ☺️💕, mutual pining, slow burn, a tiny sprinkle of angst, mentions of academic stress, an emotionally devastating finals week, and EXCESSIVE flirting by one very persistent taehyung.

a message from our sponsors 💁🏽‍♀️: yes, the cover picture is huge af & in your face because…i mean he’s MY MAN, why wouldn’t i want to look at him all big and up close? 🤨💟

word count: 7,478

Taehyung wasn’t even supposed to be there.

He had an econ lecture in ten minutes on the other side of campus, a half finished paper on his laptop, and a group chat that was slowly imploding over whose turn it was to make the slideshow.

But all of that faded into static the moment he got a craving for a croissant. Not just any croissant—one from Bean There, the cozy little café tucked between the music hall and the campus bookstore. The one with honey butter, flaky layers, and, according to his friend Jimin, the best ratio of pastry-to-price-to-aesthetic.

He slipped through the front door, brushing damp curls from his forehead as the warm air hit him. It smelled like cinnamon and espresso, and he let the scent wrap around him as he approached the counter.

That’s when he saw you.

Table Four.

You were hunched over a psych textbook the size of a baby elephant, one earbud in, matcha latte sweating quietly beside your planner. A purple pen danced between your fingers. The other hand tugged at the sleeve of your hoodie every few seconds like your body needed something to do while your brain focused on neurotransmitters or Freud or whatever madness you were dealing with.

You didn’t notice him. Not at first. But Taehyung noticed you.

He felt it in his chest—the kind of jolt that said wait. You had a look about you—sharp but tired, soft in a way that people probably didn’t give you enough credit for. Like someone who carried their own weight and still offered to help others with theirs.

He stared a second too long, then caught himself and turned toward the counter.

“Can I get two croissants?” he asked, and then, almost without thinking, “And… those mini wildflower bouquets. That one with the yellow ribbon.”

The barista looked amused but didn’t question it.

Maybe they were used to college boys doing dumb things for pretty girls. Taehyung took his haul—two pastries and the little bouquet that looked slightly wilted but still sweet—and made his way over to your table like a man with a mission.

He cleared his throat gently.

You looked up slowly, pulling out your earbud, blinking like you were trying to place him in a memory you didn’t have.

“I’m Taehyung. Taehyung Kim,” he said, flashing his best smile.

You blinked again. “Okay?”

“These are for you.”

You looked down. At the croissant. The flowers. Back up. “Why?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said honestly, shifting his weight. “But I think if I give them to you, you might tell me your name.”

You stared at him like he was an essay prompt you weren’t prepared for.

Across the room, two girls at a corner table were watching and whispering, clearly invested. One of them mouthed, shoot your shot, and made a tiny fist pump.

He stayed where he was, not pressing. Just offering. The croissant was still warm. The flowers bent a little in the draft from the door, petals fluttering.

“You’re serious,” you said.

“Deadly.”

You huffed a laugh. “You’re bold.”

“I’m Taehyung,” he repeated with a wink.

You looked him up and down like you were trying to decide if this was real life or a fever dream brought on by lack of sleep and too much caffeine. “No,” you said finally, returning your focus to your textbook. “But… thanks for the snack.”

It wasn’t a yes. It wasn’t a full no either. It was a door left open just a crack.

Taehyung picked up the untouched croissant, unwrapped it, and placed it gently on top of your notes.

“For your brain,” he said with a grin.

And then he walked away.

Out the door. Back into the cold.

And for the rest of the day, you occupied way more space in his mind than his paper, his class, or his very irritated group chat.

^^^^^^^^

Taehyung burst into their shared suite like a man possessed.

Jimin was upside down on the couch, legs draped over the back cushions and phone resting on his chest. Hoseok was perched cross legged at the breakfast bar, scrolling through notes while stress eating fruit loops. Seokjin was in the tiny kitchenette, slicing fruit like he was auditioning for a cooking show.

All three looked up as Taehyung slammed the door, breathless.

“I met someone,” he announced dramatically.

Jimin rolled his eyes. “You met someone last week. And the week before that. And the week before—”

“No, no. This is different.” Taehyung threw his bag on the floor and spun like a theater major mid monologue. “I didn’t even know her name and I bought her flowers.”

Hoseok dropped his chopsticks. “You bought someone flowers?”

Seokjin squinted. “Is this an emergency?”

“Yes,” Taehyung said, dead serious. “I’m in love.”

Jimin groaned. “You say that every time someone breathes near you with good eyebrows.”

Taehyung pointed at him. “She had a psych book the size of a small country and a matcha latte. She said no to me. With full eye contact. No. Like I was a door to door salesman trying to pitch essential oils.”

Hoseok choked on a fruit loop. “Damn.”

“And she took the croissant,” Taehyung continued. “But not the flowers. She just left them on the table like a message. Like—‘thanks, peasant, but I am not to be wooed today.’”

Seokjin looked mildly concerned. “Did she hurt you?”

“No, but she could. And I would thank her for it.”

Jimin sat up, rubbing his face. “You don’t even know her name?”

“Not yet. But I will. Table Four, Bean There café. Every day if I have to.”

“God, he’s spiraling,” Hoseok muttered, passing Seokjin his bowl.

“I’m fine,” Taehyung said. “I’m just… invested. Emotionally. Spiritually. Academically.”

“She’s a psych major, huh?” Seokjin asked, sipping from his water bottle. “Explains why she’s not falling for your chaos.”

“I think she’s been through something,” Taehyung murmured, more serious now. “She had that look. You know… like she’s trying really hard not to believe in good things anymore.”

The room went quiet for a second.

Then Jimin said, “You’re so whipped already. I haven’t even seen her and I want her to give you a chance.”

Taehyung grinned. “Same.”

^^^^^^^^

Taehyung had a reputation for forgetting important things—his dorm key, due dates, what time class started—but he remembered you.

The curve of your lips when you told him “no” like it was a complete sentence. The slight twitch of amusement in your brow when he insisted he was serious. The way you stared back like you were used to brushing people off, like you were tired of being looked at like a puzzle someone could solve with a smile.

You didn’t know it, but you haunted him.

So, he went back to Bean There. Every single day.

Not in a weird way. Okay, maybe in a slightly weird way. But he sat at a different table each time, ordered something new, and kept one eye on Table Four like a man casually waiting on fate to show up with her purple pen and unbothered energy.

Day two: no sign of you.

Day three: a glimpse. You walked in, spotted him already sitting at your usual spot with a croissant and a hopeful smile—and turned right around and left.

He blinked. Sighed. Took a bite of the croissant and muttered, “Bold of you to resist destiny.”

But day four?

You sat down across from him.

“I’ve decided I’m not going to let you win,” you said plainly.

Taehyung blinked, startled. “I’m sorry—what?”

“You’re obviously playing the long game. Showing up here every day, waiting around like you’re in a romcom montage. It’s textbook persistence. I won’t be manipulated.”

Taehyung pressed his lips together, shoulders shaking. “Is… is this your way of saying you missed me?”

“Not even a little.”

“Then why are you here?”

You looked at him then. Really looked. “Because I’m tired. And you’re… persistent. And I have a lot of reading to do and this place has the best quality drinks my money can buy.”

He leaned back in his chair, beaming. “I’ll take it.”

You rolled your eyes but stayed put.

You didn’t tell him your name. Not yet. But you accepted the croissant and took his pen when yours ran out of ink. You let him sit beside you instead of across from you, and when he asked if he could see your textbook—“just to check if it’s cursed”—you didn’t say no.

Progress.

^^^^^^^^

Later that week, he found you outside the library in a study circle with three other students. He nearly walked by—he didn’t want to be annoying—but then he heard you laugh.

Taehyung stopped mid step.

You were glowing in the late afternoon sun, head tilted back, cheeks flushed from something someone had said. The group looked tight knit. Comfortable. Like you’d known each other for a while.

He stepped forward anyway.

“You guys studying for Abnormal Psych?” he asked, backpack slung over one shoulder.

The girl with the buzzcut nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m in the class,” he lied smoothly. “Mind if I join?”

You looked up. Eyes narrowed.

“You’re not in this class.”

“I learn fast,” he said, already sitting down on the edge of the blanket someone had thrown across the grass. “Name’s Taehyung.”

Buzzcut girl perked up. “I’ve heard of you. You did karaoke dressed as an anime character at the bio major mixer.”

“Guilty,” he grinned.

“Didn’t know you were in psych, though.”

“Oh, I’m more of a… community learner.”

You snorted softly despite yourself. “This is a closed study group.”

“Not anymore,” Buzzcut girl said, pulling out her flashcards. “He brought gummy bears.”

Taehyung passed the bag to you first, catching your eye. “For your brain.”

You shook your head—but didn’t refuse them.

^^^^^^^^

Over the next two weeks, he became a fixture in your orbit.

He never asked for more than you gave, but he was always around—texting you helpful mnemonics, scribbling dumb doodles in the margins of your notes, bringing lattes and whispering jokes during tense study sessions.

You didn’t realize you’d started waiting for him until one day he was late and your stomach felt weird.

He showed up five minutes later with windblown hair and a sheepish grin. “Sorry, spilled yogurt on my pants and had to change. Very heroic story, I’ll tell it in full later.”

You didn’t say anything. Just nudged your shoulder against his as he sat down beside you.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

But he didn’t say a word. He just smiled.

Because you still hadn’t said yes to dinner. You hadn’t said yes to “just one date.”

But you’d stopped saying no.

^^^^^^^^

It was the kind of party that smelled like sweat, cheap beer, and bad decisions—one of those “someone’s cousin knows the guy who owns this place” situations where no one really belonged but no one got kicked out either.

The porch was packed. The lawn was wrecked. Someone had already duct taped a traffic cone to the roof.

It was a Thursday.

Your roommate had dragged you out. She was currently glittered from head to toe and sipping a vodka cranberry like it was a rite of passage.

“This is exactly what you need,” Nia said over the music. “One night. No textbooks. No overthinking. Just vibes.”

You weren’t sure if just vibes was medically advisable, but you’d worn your favorite jeans, a cute little corset Nia let you borrow, and actually styled your hair. So you were halfway committed.

And then he appeared.

Taehyung, standing in the hallway like he knew he was the main character—dress shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, rings glinting in the dim light, curls wild and his grin wilder. Jimin was beside him, all smirks and shoulder shrugs, clearly playing wingman for the night.

You caught Taehyung’s eye.

And he lit up.

“Look who finally decided to be fun,” he said, weaving through the crowd like he had a spotlight following him.

“You’re everywhere,” you muttered, sipping your drink.

“I contain multitudes,” he replied, offering his hand with zero irony. “Dance with me.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Just one song?”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet…”

You let him pull you in.

Just one song. One dumb, thumping remix with bass that shook the walls and made your teeth buzz. Taehyung danced like no one was watching—and if they were, he didn’t care. Loose, confident, chaotic in a way that made you laugh more than you should’ve. He pulled you into it without thinking—hands on your waist, forehead nearly brushing yours, smiling like you were already his.

Then it turned into two songs. Then three.

You pretended not to notice how close he got. How your body moved in sync with his. How his hands never strayed too far, but also never let you drift.

When the music shifted into something slower, more nostalgic, you ducked out with a mumbled, “Need some air.”

Taehyung followed. Of course he did.

The backyard was quieter. Cooler. The string lights hanging between trees buzzed softly, casting a golden halo around everything. You leaned against the porch railing, drink in hand, and tried to act unaffected.

“You’re good at that,” he said after a minute.

“At what?”

“Pretending you’re not having a good time.”

You glanced at him. “Maybe I’m not.”

“You are.” He bumped his shoulder against yours. “You laughed three times. Snorted once. That’s a strong indicator of fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe I’m just easy to amuse.”

“I don’t think you’re easy at all.”

That pulled your gaze back to him.

Taehyung didn’t look away.

He wasn’t smiling now. Not exactly. Just… watching you, like he was waiting for something.

“Why me?” you asked softly. “You flirt with everyone.”

“Not like this.”

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I mean it.”

The words sat heavy in the air between you. Not overwhelming. Not demanding. Just there—a quiet truth.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

So you leaned in, just a little. Just close enough to tempt fate.

And then Nia called your name from across the yard, voice bright and urgent.

You stepped back.

Just enough to make Taehyung smile—small, understanding, but with a flicker of disappointment he didn’t quite hide.

“Almost,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You didn’t respond.

Because almost was already more than you meant to give him.

^^^^^^^^

Inside, as the night wore on, Taehyung sat on the arm of the couch nursing a beer while Jimin hovered beside him.

“You okay?” Jimin asked, nodding toward the door you’d walked through.

“Yeah,” Taehyung said, eyes still on the space where you’d stood. “She makes me nervous in a good way.”

“Oof, that’s the scariest kind.”

Taehyung nodded. “I know.”

^^^^^^^^

The first day of summer was supposed to taste like freedom.

You’d graduated with honors, your cap decorated in glitter and photos, your cheeks sore from smiling. The night before, you and Damian had promised to meet at your favorite coffee spot to plan everything—dorm lists, road trip playlists, countdowns until move-in day. You were so ready for the next chapter.

He was fifteen minutes late.

That should’ve been your first clue.

You were halfway through your iced vanilla latte when he finally walked in, hands in his pockets, hair still wet from his morning shower. He didn’t kiss your cheek like he usually did. Didn’t smile like he had the night before when you slow danced to no music in your driveway.

He just slid into the booth across from you and looked down at his hands.

You remember the cold bloom of instinct in your gut. The kind that whispered, something’s wrong before anything had even been said.

“Babe?”

He didn’t look at you.

“I got into UCLA,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“I applied in secret. Early decision.”

“But…” You laughed, confused. “We were going to State. We both committed—”

“I didn’t sign anything,” he cut in. “I waited.”

The room spun.

“Why?”

Damian looked up then. Not cruel. Not angry. Just… removed. Like he’d already made peace with the explosion and was just waiting for the dust to settle.

“Because high school sweethearts is cute,” he said softly. “But it’s also… high school. I want to see what college has to offer.”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling like your lungs had forgotten how to breathe right.

“I don’t want to be tied down,” he added.

That part hit the hardest.

Like all your plans—every phone call about future dorm setups, every hand squeezing moment when college felt scary—had been your fantasy, and he’d just been playing along. Like your love had an expiration date, and he’d already circled it in red.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and asked the only question you could manage:

“When were you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess… today.”

You nodded slowly, as if your heart hadn’t just been cracked down the middle.

“You could’ve just said you didn’t love me anymore.”

He winced. “It’s not that. I do. Just… not enough to stay.”

That was worse.

You didn’t cry. Not in the booth. Not in front of him.

You just stood, left your untouched drink on the table, and walked out into the summer sun that suddenly felt all wrong.

That night, you packed away every picture. Deleted every message. Blocked his name from your college folder. And when Nia came over with a pint of ice cream and a bottle of tequila, you didn’t say a word.

You just shook your head and promised yourself:

Next time, it’ll be different.

If there even was a next time.

^^^^^^^^

The rain started around sunset—soft at first, like a whisper against the windows. But by nightfall, it was pouring, steady and rhythmic, turning the sidewalks into mirrors and the air into something heavier.

You were at the library, third floor, tucked into a booth that always smelled faintly of printer ink and pencil shavings. A hoodie swallowed your frame, sleeves pushed past your knuckles as you clicked between tabs on your laptop. Notes, study guide, quizlet, back to notes.

You were trying to be productive.

Trying not to think.

But the words blurred together, and your chest felt tight, and your coffee had gone cold an hour ago.

You thought about texting Nia.

You thought about crying.

Instead, you just sat there, headphones in but no music playing, watching the cursor blink like it knew how close you were to breaking.

I want to see what college has to offer.

You could still hear Damian’s voice. Calm. Certain. As if you hadn’t spent two years memorizing each other’s schedules and picking out twin bedspreads. As if you hadn’t built an entire future together only for him to drop it in your lap like a stone and walk away.

You blinked fast. Swallowed hard.

And then—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You looked up.

Taehyung.

Dripping wet from the rain, curls flattened against his forehead, hoodie dark with water around the shoulders. He grinned through it all, holding a brown paper bag in one hand and a lumpy, too bright bouquet in the other.

“Emergency snack delivery,” he said, voice muffled by the air pods still in your ears.

You tugged one out. “What are you—how did you know I was here?”

“You’re a creature of habit,” he said. “And you said you study here during exam week.”

“I could’ve gone anywhere.”

He shrugged. “But you didn’t.”

He sat across from you, no hesitation, already pulling things from the bag: chocolate covered pretzels, sour gummy worms, two croissants, and a lavender canned tea. Then—like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat—he produced a single, rainbow gel pen.

You blinked. “Is that mine?”

“I found it in your psych notes.”

“You stole my pen?”

“Borrowed. For morale.”

You stared at the offerings on the table.

“You okay?” he asked, quieter now. The smile hadn’t disappeared, but it had softened, curved at the edges with concern.

You hesitated. “Just tired.”

He nodded. “Tired sucks.”

And somehow, that made it easier.

You let him stay. Let him quiz you in a silly voice. Let him dramatically act out memory devices like you were cramming for a Broadway audition instead of a midterm. You laughed. More than once. He caught you smiling down at your notebook and said nothing—but he noticed.

Like he always did

At one point, you let your head fall against the window. He reached across the table and tucked your pen behind your ear like it was something precious. His fingers brushed your cheek, just for a second, and your whole body sparked like a struck match.

You didn’t pull away.

But you didn’t lean in either.

He didn’t push.

When the library announced its closing, you packed your things slowly. He waited. Held your laptop sleeve without asking. Walked beside you in the rain without offering an umbrella—just held it high enough for both of you to huddle under.

When you got to your door, you turned to face him.

The porch light flickered above your head. He looked at you like you were made of stardust.

“This the part where you kiss me?” you asked softly.

Taehyung smiled. “Nope.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“Because I want you to kiss me,” he said. “When you’re ready. When it’s real. When it’s yours.”

You looked at him.

The kindness. The care. The way he never pushed, never pried, never reached for more than you offered.

Your chest ached.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I know,” he repeated. “But I can promise I’ll stay.”

You blinked.

He smiled. Tipped his head. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

And he walked away.

You stood in the doorway for a long time after he was gone.

Not thinking.

Just feeling.

^^^^^^^^

The text came on a Tuesday, sandwiched between a group project meltdown and a mediocre dining hall salad.

Taehyung [1:04 PM] important question: do you believe in spontaneous joy, glitter, and road trips with questionable wifi? 🙃

You frowned.

You [1:06 PM] …what are you planning?

Taehyung [1:06 PM] music festival. this weekend. us, jimin, nia, a few others. tents. loud music. bad decisions. snacks. it’s practically self care!

You didn’t answer right away. He waited a whole ten minutes before sending another.

Taehyung [1:16 PM] i’ll bring gummy bears and the collapsible desk. and i’ll make you a playlist. please come🙏🏻 i want to dance with you under ugly lights and yell lyrics off key.

You stared at the message longer than you should have.

Nia leaned over your tray. “Is that the chaotic guy with the eyebrows and the emotional support snacks?”

“Yes.”

“Are we going?”

“I don’t know.”

“You want to.”

“…Yeah. I think I do.”

^^^^^^^^

On Friday, when the sun was just barely making its daily debut, you stood on the curb in front of the dorm with your duffel bag, hoodie pulled tight, trying not to look excited.

The van was chaos in motion—Jimin behind the wheel in yellow sunglasses and a mesh tank top, Hoseok in the passenger seat playing DJ, and Taehyung in the backseat waving at you like he hadn’t seen you in years instead of twelve hours ago.

“You came!” he shouted, throwing the side door open like a golden retriever greeting its favorite person. “You came.”

“You said there’d be snacks.”

“I said there’d be magic. Snacks are a bonus.”

Nia climbed in behind you, flopping over a pile of blankets. Someone tossed you a warm muffin. Hoseok handed you a tiny bottle of hotel shampoo, no explanation. It was perfect.

^^^^^^^^

The drive was loud, messy, and full of laughter.

They passed around instant cameras and took blurry photos at gas stations. Played Taehyung’s Mixtape Mayhem game, your movie montage song: Cigarette Daydreams; his: SexyBack, with no shame whatsoever. Someone kept losing signal. Someone else lost a shoe.

You hadn’t laughed that much in a long time.

And Taehyung? He watched you with this soft awe, like every time you smiled it made something in him settle deeper. He didn’t cling, didn’t crowd, just found you with his gaze every so often like he couldn’t not.

When you sang along to a song you loved, he watched your mouth like it was art.

When your head drooped against the window, he tucked your hoodie hood up without a word.

And when you caught him looking?

He just smiled.

^^^^^^^^

The air buzzed with bass and heat, the kind of energy that stuck to your skin. You pitched tents between strangers and strung fairy lights between trees. Someone spilled a soda on your blanket. Jimin got into a debate with a guy selling handmade jewelry about astrology. You danced under colored lights and neon fog and laughed until your cheeks hurt.

At some point, Taehyung disappeared and returned with glow stick crowns. He placed yours gently on your head like it was something precious.

“There,” he said. “Royalty.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

He blinked. “Am I not always?”

You couldn’t argue with that.

^^^^^^^^

Later that night the fire pit had burned down to a sleepy glow. Everyone else had drifted off to their tents, leaving you and Taehyung in the silence of stars and smoke.

You lay on your back in the grass, his arm close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. Your glow stick crown still flickered faintly. His curls were tucked under a beanie now, damp from sweat and fog.

“Tell me something real,” he said suddenly.

You turned your head. “What?”

“Anything. Doesn’t have to be deep. Just real.”

You hesitated for a few minutes before deciding to push past the fear.

“I think…I’m afraid of how much I like you.”

His breath hitched.

You didn’t look at him.

You just stared at the sky and added, “Because last time I liked someone this much… it didn’t end well.”

He was quiet.

Then his fingers found yours in the grass, slow and careful.

“I’m not him,” he said.

You finally turned.

“I know,” you said. “That’s what scares me.”

He didn’t kiss you.

He didn’t rush.

He just held your hand like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like maybe you’d been holding his this whole time without realizing it.

^^^^^^^^

Finals week feels like the inside of a pressure cooker.

Sleep becomes optional. Meals turn into vending machine runs and half eaten granola bars that disappear somewhere in your bag. The library is open 24/7, and somehow still always full. Even Taehyung looks frayed at the edges—hoodie pulled low, dark circles under his eyes, curls tucked under a beanie he refuses to take off.

But he still checks in.

He texts you every day. Drops off snacks when you forget to eat. Leaves sticky notes in your textbooks with doodles and cheesy pep talks in his messy handwriting. On the morning of your hardest exam, you find a neon green post it tucked into your notebook:

you’re gonna crush this. and when you do, i’m taking you to celebrate. wear something that makes me weak.

You laugh out loud. Then immediately choke on your coffee and have to explain to your roommate why you’re smiling like the post it just confessed its love to you.

^^^^^^^^

It was past one in the morning, and the world outside your window had gone still.

Finals were less than two days away, your laptop fan was groaning like it was on its last breath, and your study guide looked like a crime scene—scribbled notes, scratched out equations, desperate reminders written in red pen.

You sat on your bedroom floor, a monstrously oversized t-shirt, bare legs tangled in a blanket, surrounded by empty coffee cups and open tabs you couldn’t bring yourself to close.

Your brain was fogged.

Your chest was tight.

The quiet wasn’t peaceful—it was loud.

You stared down at the mess of your planner, blinking back the hot sting in your eyes, and then reached for your phone without even thinking.

You [1:23 AM] can you come over..if you’re awake

You didn’t expect an answer right away. But thirty seconds later his reply came.

Taehyung [1:23AM] already halfway there

^^^^^^^^

You barely had time to drag your fingers through your hair and put on some shorts before there was a knock on the door.

You opened it to find him standing there in gray slacks and a too big sweater, and his backpack hanging off one shoulder like he’d come from war.

“Hi,” he said, voice soft.

You just nodded and stepped aside.

He looked around your room—saw the chaos, the barely contained panic—and didn’t say anything about it.

Instead, he set his bag down, pulled out a warm croissant wrapped in foil and a little folded paper crane he’d clearly scribbled something onto.

You opened it.

you’ve survived 100% of your worst days so far. let’s keep the streak going.

The tears came so fast you didn’t even feel them build.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered.

Taehyung was already crossing the room.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, pulling you into his arms like he’d done it a thousand times. “You’re just tired. You’ve been carrying the world on your back for weeks. Let someone hold it with you for a minute.”

You buried your face in his chest, breathing in that warm, cozy scent that had become your favorite thing.

He didn’t rush you. Didn’t ask for anything in return. Just rubbed your back slowly and let you fall apart.

When the tears slowed and the silence stretched, he spoke again—low and gentle.

“Can I say something, or will it make you spiral more?”

You sniffed. “Depends. Are you about to tell me you failed an exam?”

He smiled against your hair. “No. I was gonna tell you I think I’m falling in love with you.”

You froze.

Not in a bad way. Just in that whole body still way that happens when something hits too deep to move.

You leaned back just enough to look at him.

“Why would you say that now?”

“Because I’ve wanted to say it for a while,” he said, searching your face. “And because I think you need to hear something true right now. Even if it’s scary.”

You stared at him, heart pounding.

And then slowly, carefully.

You kissed him.

It wasn’t cinematic, No swelling orchestra, no perfectly timed wind. Just his sweater against your skin, your hands in his hair at the nape of his neck, your breath hitching when he cupped your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were real.

When you pulled away, he was smiling like he’d just solved a riddle no one else could.

“You… kissed me,” he whispered.

“You said you were waiting,” you murmured back.

“I would’ve waited forever.”

You leaned your forehead against his, voice barely there. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t leave. Don’t change your mind. Don’t do what he did, please.”

Taehyung kissed your nose.

Then your cheek.

Then your mouth again.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

^^^^^^^^

Finals week hit like a freight train.

The library turned into a second home. Cafeteria food lost what little appeal it had. Everyone walked around with under eye circles and iced coffee IVs. You were running on four hours of sleep, two protein bars, and blind academic panic.

But somehow, Taehyung made it feel almost survivable.

He didn’t hover—he just showed up exactly when you needed him. A text when your brain fogged. A forehead kiss on his way to class. A note slipped into your textbook that read:

you don’t have to do this alone. but I know you can.

Every time you felt yourself unravel, he helped you stitch yourself back together.

And he never asked for anything in return.

^^^^^^^^

The night before your last exam, you sat side by side in his dorm’s common room, surrounded by half open notebooks and the distant sound of someone crying over a chemistry final. Your head rested against his shoulder, your body warm beneath a shared blanket.

You hadn’t kissed again since that night.

Not because you didn’t want to—but because something about the pause felt sacred. Like the next time it happened, it would mean everything.

“I had a dream last night,” you whispered. “That we were back at the café. You walked in and didn’t recognize me.”

Taehyung’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Maybe because I wasn’t… this version of me. I was still the girl from the first day of summer. Still waiting to be chosen.”

He turned toward you, eyes soft. “I’ve been choosing you since the second I saw you.”

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

Because the silence between you wasn’t empty—it was full of everything.

He reached for your hand, weaving your fingers together slowly.

“I know you were hurt,” he said quietly. “And I know I can’t erase that. But I swear, every part of me wants to give you something better. Softer. Real.”

You looked at him.

At the guy who bought you croissants just to learn your name.

At the guy who stayed.

Who always stayed.

“Ask me again,” you said.

Taehyung blinked. “What?”

“Ask me again to go out with you.”

His mouth curved into a slow, sure smile.

“Will you go out with me?”

You leaned in.

Kissed him like you were sealing something that had already been written in stone and yet brand new at the same time.

“Yes.”

^^^^^^^^

Two days later on the campus lawn, post exams, the sun was shining too bright. Students were lounging like survivors after battle. Nia had collapsed onto a blanket with iced tea and a victory playlist.

You were half asleep, head in Taehyung’s lap, as he read a graphic novel with one hand and played with your curls with the other.

“So what now?” you mumbled.

“Now?” he said. “Now we do summer. We do late night drives and brunch and museums and maybe even a weekend at that lake house my cousin keeps bragging about.”

“Sounds like a lot.”

“It is,” he said. “And it’s all with you.”

You closed your eyes, smiling.

Because for the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like a question mark.

It felt like a promise.

^^^^^^^^

You didn’t even need a destination.

Just Taehyung behind the wheel of his silver coupe, music low, the windows cracked open to let in the breeze. The sky stretched wide overhead, pale blue with streaks of clouds that looked like brushstrokes.

“You packed four pairs of jeans,” he said, glancing at your duffel bag in the backseat. “We’re gone for two days.”

“I like options,” you replied, flicking his sunglasses down over his eyes. “And you brought five different notebooks.”

“Those are creative tools.”

“Sure.”

He grinned, reaching for your hand across the console. His fingers laced with yours so naturally it felt like you’d always done it.

The road was empty. Just the two of you, the hum of the tires, and a playlist you built together that morning—equal parts indie slow burn, R&B, and old songs you both secretly knew every word to.

You leaned your head out the window and yelled into the wind just to feel it bite at your cheeks.

Taehyung watched you with a smile that made your stomach dip.

“Wanna stop?” he asked after a while, eyes flicking toward a peeling road sign that read:

EXIT 41 – Scenic Overlook | Fruit Stand | Antique Store

“Fruit stand?”

He wiggled his brows. “Adventure.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. But if this turns into a weird horror movie setup, I’m leaving you behind.”

“Noted,” he said, already flipping on the turn signal.

^^^^^^^^

Twenty minutes later you stood at the edge of a hill, hair whipping in the breeze, holding a strawberry soda in one hand and a bag of peaches in the other.

The overlook was quiet, just a small gravel lot with a single picnic table and a stunning view of rolling hills and wide open sky. The woman at the fruit stand had called you two honeymooners and given you an extra apple “just in case.”

Taehyung climbed onto the table and stretched his arms behind his head, shirt riding up just enough to make you look away and then look back a second later.

“This feels fake,” you said, settling beside him.

“What does?”

“This.” You gestured at the view. “Us. The quiet. Everything.”

“It’s real,” he said simply. “Just rare.”

You sat in silence for a while, sharing sips of soda and stealing bites of fruit, letting your bodies lean into each other without needing to say anything.

Then, out of nowhere—

“Marry me.”

You choked.

Taehyung was grinning, not serious, but not exactly joking either.

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “Someday. If you’re bored. If you need someone to keep bringing you snacks and calling you pretty forever.”

You looked at him.

At his messy curls and his sun kissed skin and the way he was watching you like he knew how to wait a lifetime for the right moment.

And for the first time, the idea didn’t terrify you.

It made your heart ache in a way that felt good.

“Maybe,” you said.

“Maybe?”

“Ask me again at another fruit stand.”

He leaned in, kissed your temple, and whispered, “Deal.”

| 3 years later |

The first chill of autumn always brought you back to the beginning.

It made the air sharper. The coffee stronger. The campus quieter, like it was exhaling after the noise of summer. And tucked between the music hall and the campus bookstore, Bean There Café still looked the same—wobbly table legs, moody lighting, a playlist that always seemed to know how you were feeling.

Table Four hadn’t changed.

Still near the window. Still a little crooked. Still yours.

Taehyung sat sideways in his chair, sketchbook resting on his knee, his left foot nudging yours under the table every few minutes like he couldn’t help it. His curls were longer now, his rings flashier. But his smile? Still exactly the same.

Across from him, you were highlighting a research article, one AirPod in, your cardigan slipping off your shoulder in that way that always made him pause.

He watched you for a long time before speaking.

“You’re really gonna make me sit here and suffer without saying hi to me properly, baby?”

You didn’t look up. “We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes.”

“Exactly. That’s twenty minutes of missed affection. I’m traumatized.”

You set your pen down and raised an eyebrow. “Would you like a sticker or a kiss?”

“Yes.”

You leaned across the table and kissed his cheek.

“Greedy,” you said.

“Hopeless,” he corrected. “Hopelessly greedy for you.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, and Taehyung felt something settle in his chest like a song finishing its final note.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a folded piece of thick paper—worn at the edges, carefully smoothed out. He slid it across the table without ceremony.

You opened it slowly.

Inside was a new sketch. A recreation of Table Four—but not the one from the past. This time, there were two mugs. A laptop. Your favorite pen. A shared pastry. You were looking down, focused. Taehyung had drawn himself mid smile, eyes only on you.

In the corner, in soft graphite:

Still my favorite seat in the world.

You blinked hard.

“This is unfair,” you whispered.

“It’s accurate,” he said, already reaching for your hand. “You saved my heart when I didn’t even realize I’d given it away.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being honest.”

You looked up at him. Your Taehyung. The man who once brought you croissants for no reason. Who waited. Who never asked for more than you could give, but always gave you more than you knew to want.

You squeezed his hand.

“I’m glad I sat down that day.”

“I’m glad I saw you.”

Outside, the wind rustled golden leaves against the glass. Someone near the register was humming along to a soft acoustic cover of a love song you both knew. The coffee still wasn’t great. The wi-fi still glitched near the counter. But none of it mattered.

Because this table—this moment—this love?

It was yours.

And it always would be.

| 6 years later |

It was a Thursday night in late spring, and the city had finally started to bloom again.

You and Taehyung had gone to dinner at your favorite spot—quiet, candlelit, familiar. He’d been soft all evening, affectionate in that barely contained way he got when something was brewing behind his eyes. The kind of soft where his hand found your lower back for no reason. The kind of soft where his eyes never stopped smiling, even when his mouth did.

“I still say I could’ve made better risotto,” you teased, tugging on his sleeve as the two of you walked back toward the car.

“Untrue,” he said. “You would’ve burned the pan and added too much salt.”

You gasped. “You love my over salted cooking.”

“I love you, baby,” he corrected. “The cooking is a side quest.”

He kissed your temple and opened the passenger door for you, sliding into the driver’s side a second later like he hadn’t been checking the time on his phone every five minutes during dinner.

You didn’t notice.

Too busy pulling off your earrings and mumbling about whether or not you left the porch light on back at the townhouse.

^^^^^^^^

Ten minutes into the drive, you pass it.

A fruit stand.

Small, rustic. Just off the edge of a quiet road near your neighborhood. The wood was painted with soft lavender accents and little twinkle lights strung above it. There was a handwritten chalkboard that read:

Fresh Strawberries • Homemade Peach Jam • Love Optional

You blinked. “That… wasn’t here last week.”

Taehyung’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Wanna stop?”

You hesitated.

He looked over, a small, unreadable smile pulling at his lips. “Adventure?”

Your heart kicked up—familiar, fond, warm.

You smiled. “Sure. But if this is another horror movie setup, I’m leaving you behind again.”

“My beautiful creature of habit.”

^^^^^^^^

The stand looked even more whimsical up close. There were bunches of baby’s breath in tiny mason jars, a crate of freshly baked mini pies, and baskets of strawberries that still smelled like sun.

You wandered toward a basket.

Taehyung stayed a few steps behind.

You reached for a peach. “This is so weird, who puts a random fruit—?”

When you turned, he wasn’t beside you.

He was kneeling.

One knee to the earth. Holding a ring box that looked like it had been in his pocket for weeks, like it had been waiting for the right moment. For the right stand.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You barely registered the wind.

Or the smell of strawberries.

Or the sound of the breeze rattling the twinkle lights.

“I asked you once at a fruit stand if you’d marry me,” Taehyung said, voice quiet but steady. “You said to ask again someday. At another stand.”

You blinked fast. “Tae—”

“I knew then. I knew before then. Before croissants. Before gummy bears. Before that first party and the first road trip and the first kiss you gave me when you didn’t even believe in love anymore.”

His voice cracked.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until a tear landed on your thumb.

Taehyung smiled—shaky, bright. “I’ve spent every day since just being lucky enough to love you.”

The ring was delicate. Gold band with a peach colored diamond. Your style, down to the last glimmer.

“So now,” he continued, “I’m asking again. One more time, with no expiration date, no more waiting.”

He looked up at you, eyes shining.

“Will you marry me?”

Your knees gave a little.

You nodded, too fast. “Yes. Y-Yes, I will.”

The ring slid onto your finger like it had always belonged there.

You barely had time to breathe before Nia screamed from behind a car, “SHE SAID YES, Y’ALL—COME ON!”

Laughter and cheers exploded around you.

From behind every parked car friends and family poured out, cheering and shouting, phones up, cameras flashing. Jimin was in tears. Hoseok threw confetti that stuck in Taehyung’s hair. Seokjin was already handing out mini champagne bottles.

You covered your mouth in disbelief as your world rushed forward in color and light.

Taehyung pulled you into his chest, arms around your waist, spinning you slightly.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” you whispered into his shoulder.

“I would’ve shut down the whole city if you asked,” he said. “But this felt more like us.”

And it did.

A quiet road.

A handmade sign.

The kind of love that started with a croissant and a ‘maybe’ at table four.

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