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↠ about azri - she/they, 23, poc (asian), and afab - bisexual ↠ about my writing - this blog is dedicated to my writing, mostly will be aot or levi x reader works. other fandoms include: jjk, alice in borderland (tv), love and deepspace (game) - all my works are 18+ only. minors, do not interact. - i will not write about non-con, incest, and the likes that are heavily triggering but please still be mindful of the tags i will put. but i will probably mostly write angst. - i'm a busy person. i work full-time and is still in uni so pls don't demand updates ! it's ok to ask about it but pls be nice ! :(

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glimpse of us: exile

pairing: husband!yoongi x female reader ; namjoon x reader genre: angst, divorce, arranged marriage (but not really), age gap kinda (5 years), unrequited love, pining (reader), fluff wc: 19.5k (my first full fic? :O) playlist: glimpse of us. warnings: a lot of pov changes at the party scene, kinda unedited, angst, major 2nd lead syndrome vibes, idk how to tag warnings obviously, kissing, lots of flashback scenes, bad writing bc i can't write. note: aaaaaa it's finally here. things didn't go as planned because i didn't expect to be really busy in the first week of junior year in uni T.T !! i'm really sorry to those who waited and thank you for giving me 500+ notes on the first part of glimpse of us. summary: he was the perfect husband and it's a perfect marriage... but it's time to let him go. PART 1

“yoongi? are you listening to me?”

the voice that was just an echo on the back of his head grows louder, fishing him out of the abyss of thoughts he’s been having. he looks back at the woman who sits across from him with wide eyes, suddenly realizing he had been out of it again.

“yeah, sorry.” yoongi replies with an obvious lie and straightens up his back. his girlfriend sighs and sips her coffee while avoiding his gaze. he knows that she’s now pissed at him.

“are you really going to think about work while i’m here? we’ve been barely going out as it is and you do this?” yuna’s voice raises at him. he looks around the cafe, worried about the eyes that turned to them.

“can you turn your voice down?” he pleads in a whisper, leaning closer to the woman.

she scoffs at him, crossing her arms. “my voice is not the issue here.”

it was always like this. nothing seems to be going right with them anymore. if they can’t see each other because of their conflicting schedules, they’re either arguing or ignoring each other because of the argument. despite this, yoongi believes it’s just the 7-year itch and if they both try to get through it, they can overcome it.

“i know. i’m sorry.” he sighs and looks down at his drink. “what were you saying again?”

“i told you i met someone.”

it didn’t sink in at first. time stays still as his body goes frozen in his seat.

just a second ago, his mind was as if a desk of a mad scientist, thoughts scrambled as a million worries, ideas, and images run through his head. he was a man that never stopped running, always chasing a prize that was dangling in front of him. and he loved it. but he was too blind to see the truth. he had been doing it wrong all this time.

he didn’t know that six words had the power to boil down years of noise in his head into one word–a question.

“what?”

he sat there in misery as she explained. the words coming out from her mouth swirled in his head like a tornado, swiping every last plan he has in the future for the both of them. it is only now that he takes notice of how her hair is not kept as neatly as it usually is. he recalls how a different smell of shampoo had hit his nose when he hugged her in greeting earlier.

she tells him how she spent the night in another man’s bed but never doing the things expected of a person who’s going behind her partner’s back. she doesn’t do them. no, yuna is not a person to do that. but she tells him of how she yearned to. and that’s why she can’t bear the thought of being with him further.

because she realized that she doesn’t want him anymore.

how her voice trembled when she said goodbye, yoongi doesn’t even notice. the way she stood up from her seat, yoongi doesn’t even look at.

just like that, yoongi was left inside that cafe, sitting where he felt his whole world stop.

he was ashamed of himself.

it’s amazing how in one room, different kind of lives are being lived. some are laughing with their friends, others just enjoying their coffee on a nice and sunny day, a few typing away at their laptops in a buzzing cafe instead of a quiet library, the cafe staff just getting by and doing their job for the day. all of this happening while one man in his seat just felt his whole world shatter just by six words.

now he realizes that the prize he was chasing was tied to him over his head. like a fool, he was chasing something that if only he stops for a moment, he could easily reach it with both his hands. he could have taken it and held it close to him. maybe that way, the swift air from his running wouldn’t have taken it away from him. but it did. and it’s all because of him.

from that moment on, he swore he wouldn’t let such a thing happen again.

but it does.

a usual monday for yoongi goes like this: first, he eats the breakfast you cook. second, he drives to work. third, he texts you when he arrives. four, he slaves himself to work the whole day and a few hours of the night. fifth, he texts you when he’s about to go home. sixth, he drives home from work at a late hour. lastly, he either finds you asleep or waiting for him while having a midnight snack. 

the monday goes as it does for him at first. so, expectedly, it would continue as it is for the rest of the night. obviously, things doesn’t usually go as it does.

the first unusual thing he finds is how the lights are turned off when he enters the apartment. it doesn’t matter if you’re asleep or watching a movie in the living room, you always leave the dim light by the entrance turned on.

“y/n?”

the second unusual thing that happens is when he shouts your name, no one answers. from that moment, he realizes that you were out of the house. 

the third unusual thing is why didn’t you tell him? were you spending the night at your parents house? out with a friend? or perhaps at work? you always text him if you’re going to be out of the house. so why didn’t you tonight?

worry fills his system at the thought of you being out and him having no idea where. he knows you can handle yourself well but you not telling him where you’ve gone doesn’t feel right to him. 

his hand finds the light switch in the dark like it’s second nature. and just like that, the apartment comes to life with bright lights and a clean atmosphere. 

he doesn’t find the place unusual. everything was just like he left it. it was only you that was missing from the picture. 

but a few steps in, he finds the last thing he would find unusual for the night. 

the box that he usually sees underneath your closet rack is now sitting on top of the coffee table in the living room and beside it were two envelopes. one in legal size and another in letter. 

he throws his leathered sling bag on the couch and picks up the letter. for some reason, there was a pounding in his heart that he can’t explain. perhaps, it was his body telling him that something unpleasant was about to happen. his furrowed brows and blazing eyes scan through the words in the letter. the words sorry and end were the only things that made sense to him. he couldn’t read the letter fully as he could feel his chest tighten second by second. 

this isn’t happening. this isn’t happening. this isn’t happening. 

his eyes shift to the bigger envelope on the table. the trembling hands of his abandon the sheet of paper in his hands only to grasp the envelope and roughly see the content inside of it. 

he felt his knees weaken at the words he finds on the document that he falls in a slump on the couch, staring blankly at the paper and taking in the weight of your signature on it.

it takes him a few minutes to get back to reality. and just like before, all his thoughts was silenced with one word.

why? 

he picks up the letter that fell to the floor, reading it calmly this time. 

his eyes move slowly and carefully as if he’s afraid of the words he’s going to read. this time, the words doesn’t come like a tornado. this time, it comes like tsunami. before he knew it, he’s already underwater and being pushed in all directions by the water. 

i’m sorry. 

i didn’t think i could tell you this in person. i thought about it carefully, yoongi. but i don’t think i can go on with this. i’ve known for a while even before you’ve said it that night–that it’s not me you truly see at first, i thought it was okay. i don’t mind if the love you give is borrowed. i’d rather be loved like this than not being loved at all by you. i’d take whatever love you can give. then, i realize how fucked up it is. in the process of loving you, i’d forgotten how to love myself. it’s cheesy, i know. but what can i do when the man who i love only loves me because he finds her in me? is there a space for the real me in your heart, yoongi? because if we’re honest, if it’s down to me and her, who would you choose? that night, when you told me i am just like her that’s why you can’t lose me, i just knew it had to stop. i don’t want to be the person you settle for just because you can’t have her. 

i’m sorry, yoongi. i know that by doing this, i’m hurting you. but it has to end before any more people get hurt. 

i’ll let you go so you can find her again. 

we can talk about this further when you’re ready. 

y/n.

the whiskey rolled on his tongue, the bitter taste on his buds lingering as he swallowed the strong drink. not even letting his tongue get to its aftertaste, he takes another swig of the highly alcoholic drink.

“you need to slow down.”

his best friend reminds him as he sits beside him on the couch—the couch you specifically chose. everything in this house, you chose. every corner of the place, he sees you. every little thing reminded him of you.

he groans and limply hold the glass by his knee. he hung his head back and rests his forearm on his forehead. seokjin watches and sighs at the misery of his best friend.

“i think i need someone to tell me how to live life.” yoongi blurts out.

“why would you think that?” seokjin asks with a snort before taking a sip of his drink. his face scrunches after taking in the taste of the whiskey, realizing it was way too strong for his liking. he takes another sip anyway. that’s just how seokjin is.

“i think i’ve been doing it wrong so far.” the man answers with a mutter.

seokjin gazes at his best friend and then to the divorce papers on the table. he recalls the text he received from his friend’s wife in the afternoon.

hi jin. if u’re free tonight can u check on yoongi after his shift? i think he’ll need u.

the day the jin dreads has come. knowing yoongi the best, he wished that it didn’t happen like this. he felt bad for his friend but worse for you. you don’t deserve this. the fact that you still went out of your way to make sure your husband was alright when you were divorcing him, he doesn’t think it will be easy for yoongi to find someone like you again.

“when do you plan to talk to her?” seokjin asks in relation to the last line in the letter.

yoongi removes his arm from his face and looks at seokjin. he sighs and slumps more on the couch, body sliding down lower until his chin rests on his chest.

“i don’t know.”

“you went through with it.”

jungkook doesn’t greet you when he enters your office. it only took looking at your tired face, the bags under your eyes, and the way you teared up the moment you see him step foot in the room with documents in his hands. he had no idea you were going to do it. he knew that you had everything ready after the hawaii trip but you never told him you were going to do it already.

“i did it.” the corner of your lips turned upward in a small, sad smile.

“huh.” he reacts, looking down on his feet. your brow furrows at the sudden drop of his mood, curious as to why his sulkiness doesn’t only indicate pity.

your friend drags his feet to get near you and drops himself on his favorite chair across you. “has he signed it?” he asks, dropping the papers on your table.

“i left the papers and a letter at home yesterday. he hasn’t made contact since then.” you answer, getting the papers he brought you. he takes one glace at it and was reminded why he was there in the first place.

“need you to sign these to finalize the deal with the kim enterprise.” he says as you examine the papers. “i arranged a meeting for you with them by your secretary. it’s on friday.”

you nod and grabbed the pen at the side of your desk. the metallic casing of the caran d’ache sign pen yoongi gifted to you is cold on your skin as you held it. your thumb caresses the engraved name on the expensive gold plated casing, feeling the comfort of the familiar rough texture of it. your name looks good with his, such a shame you have to give it back to him.

you shake your head and put it inside the drawer under your desk so you won’t see or use it again. this time, you grab a different pen, a normal one that you liked using for signing before your marriage.

you finally sign the papers and hand it over to your friend who was still looking down on his shoes. there was a slight pout on his face, so you wonder what was on his mind.

“okay, what’s bothering you?” you sigh.

he bites his lip before looking at you for a second then avoiding your stare. “it’s nothing.” he says before standing up.

you grab his arm before he can get away, standing up in the process. “get back here right now.”

his jaw clenches. “i just—i feel kind of responsible.” he answers, still not looking at you.

his words takes you aback, loosening your grip on him.

“what?” you let him go to stutter the word out of your mouth.

“you started to doubt him after the hawaii trip. after what i said.”

now you realize what was on his mind and understand why. you don’t indulge jungkook much on your relationship. despite him being your best friend, you didn’t feel like telling anyone your doubts on the marriage, not even yourself.

you only told him after the hawaii trip about everything. he listened attentively but you noticed there was something bothering him a bit since then.

jungkook liked yoongi. he treated him like an older brother. but you were his best friend and yoongi had his mistakes. still, he couldn’t help but things happened differently.

he knows that with this marriage dissolving, he might lose yoongi as a friend. but most importantly, he was scared that you will lose the light in your eyes. he was glad you’re going to be free of him and could not hurt you further than he was doing but he wonders if there was a slight chance that you would be happy for a lifetime just living in your bubble of a marriage that maybe wouldn’t have popped if he hadn’t shown you how to. he thinks this all happened because of him.

“kookie, it was doomed from the start and never your fault.” you sigh, before continuing. “it didn’t start with you. or even with me. it started with yoongi. but i’m the one ending it for all of us. the two of us deserve better than pretending everything’s okay.”

you really wanted yoongi to be the one to reach out first. two weeks has passed and there still was no sign of him wanting to communicate with you. if he wanted to cut you off so bad, why hasn’t he signed the papers?

so here you are now, in front of your apartment. the two of you have to settle with an agreement before your father’s birthday gala on saturday and you can’t do that if he’s still not willing to talk to you.

you punched in the numbers on the keypad lock. it was the combination of the years you were born. just another reminder how far apart you were. although five years isn’t really a huge age difference, it was another factor that doesn’t make you her.

you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous that the passkey would be changed. but as the lock in front of you dinged green and let you in, a sense of relief comes to you.

you know that yoongi isn’t here and still at work. with that knowledge, you allow yourself to check the place. it was just like you left it, clean and quiet. there isn’t much food left in the fridge so you figure that he’s been eating out. at least, that’s what you wish. you hope his secretary, kim taehyung, is making sure he eats well.

you look over your wrist watch. there’s still more than an hour before yoongi comes home. with the time you have, you can cook a few side dishes he can eat with take out. without thinking more about it, you get to work.

wearing your apron, you hum to yourself while preparing the ingredients, finding yourself easily lost in how much the place and activity felt like second skin to you.

there are two coping mechanisms when you’re anxious for what’s in store in the future. first, is you think about it every minute of the day and let it destroy you. second, you completely ignore it until it happens. you were obviously doing the latter this time.

you haven’t thought about how you’re going to talk about the divorce to your parents. so far, the only people who knows about it from your side is jungkook, your secretary, and maria. you don’t know who yoongi has told yet but you’re sure seokjin knows. that’s four people. four people outside your relationship that knows what’s in store.

the moment more people know, it’s irreversible and real.

you wonder how your parents will react. their only daughter, divorced at a young age with no children. they won’t be happy but you’re sure they’ll understand.

just as you were putting the cooked dishes inside their tupperware, you hear the door open. you hold your breath and freeze. suddenly scared of his reaction to your unannounced return.

this is the first time you’ve seen him in two weeks yet you don’t know how to act. instead, you watch as yoongi drags his body inside, eyes on his feet and head hung low like a zombie. your heart breaks at how tired he looks.

“yoongi.”

his whole body tenses up and freezes for a moment before finally looking up to look at you. it seems as if his eyes couldn’t believe what he was seeing. you, in your apron, cooking as if nothing happened.

“y–y/n.” he stutters as he straightens his posture, countenance brightening. “wha–what are you doing here?” he fixes his tie while walking over to you.

the loud clasps of you closing air-tight containers filled the room before you answer his question. “dad’s birthday is on saturday.” you start as you stack the containers inside the fridge. “if you’re not ready to talk about it, we should come to an agreement for the birthday gala.”

you had your back turned to him so you can’t see his face as he replied but you notice the way his voice drops in disappointment. “oh. the gala.”

you don’t understand. what was he expecting? for you to take back your word on the divorce? you saw how his face brightened when he saw you in the kitchen. you hate how he is so obviously disappointed when he realized you were only here to talk about the gala. you hate how he hasn’t contacted you in two weeks. it’s so yoongi of him to give you space when he feels, or rather assumes, you need it. you hate how he doesn’t understand that the space was for him–for him to decide whether to correct his wrongs or to put an end to it. you hate how he hasn’t fought for you. you hate how much you wish he would ask you to take him back. you hate that because of him–because of her, you can’t stay. but above it all, you hate yourself.

you hate that even if you’ve decided to put an end to it, you can’t help but feel regret.

the gala arrives faster than you hope it would.

when you and yoongi had the conversation in the penthouse, you both agreed to go to the gala together like nothing happened. with that, he decided to forego the driver for tonight, personally fetching you from your apartment.

it was weird.

the agreement was you will act like there wasn’t to be a divorce in public, not when you were alone. yet when he arrives at your door, he holds a beautiful bouquet of a variety of flowers as if you were still dating. he opens the door to you with a charming smile and made jokes in the car as he hummed to the music on the radio like he was having fun.

his slim-fit single-breasted armani suit in midnight blue suits him like it’s second skin. he wears with it a black shirt with a silver-striped midnight blue necktie. it was nothing new to you. formal wear was something he wore often. but tonight, you had to stop yourself from drooling at how good your future ex-husband looked.

and how good he looked next to you.

complementing his midnight blue outfit, you wore an evening dress in the same color. it was nothing grand but it was classy. a tight-fit, spaghetti-strapped silk dress that hugged your curves, modest in front but backless to your lower back. on your neck and ears is a simple set of diamond necklace and earrings your father has gifted you on one of your birthdays.

everyone greeted you with big smiles as you strode into room with his hand on your waist. you were the l/n’s only daughter, after all. and beside you was the famous min.

the night went by easily. the two of you faked your smiles here and there. the two of you weren’t just born into your position in your companies, you both knew how to act and earned them. just like that, it was easy to pretend that you were both very in love.

well, there wasn’t much pretending on your part before.

after you had made your greetings to your parents and yoongi’s and when all of the guests are mostly seated and has left you alone, yoongi and you sat side by side on one circular table. your father was about to make his birthday speech.

“y/n. yoongi.”

kim seokjin greets you with a sigh of relief as he sat down beside yoongi. “thank god the hags has left you alone. i was bored in the corner watching it all end.” he sits beside yoongi and you gave him a smile.

you’ve always liked seokjin. he was a good friend not only to yoongi but also to you. he might not be the ceo type like his brother namjoon but he has his own charms. not finding his passion in business, he turned to modeling and acting instead and gave the position to his younger brother. you trust that he will take care of yoongi when you can no longer do it for him.

“tell me about it.” your head whips to your best friend that now sits beside you.

there is a sense of relief that flashes to you when the two people you both trust are now beside you. it’s as if they were your safe zone. jungkook had always been your person and seokjin was yoongi’s. they are the first person to know everything about you two, even if there are no words said.

you can’t help but wonder what they think. do they think you are making the right decision?

“don’t look so down or people are going to notice.” jungkook whispers in your ear through a smile.

you glare at him and was about to reply with a comeback when the lights dimmed, indicating the program was about to start. your father walks to the platform gracefully. ever the sophisticated man, everyone’s head turned to him as he moved. he clears his throat before speaking.

“good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

whatever words that come out of his mouth were a blur to you after the greeting. it was the same every year, anyway.

instead, your mind drifts to the person beside you. next year, at the same gala, he would not be sitting next to you like this. it’s funny how a seat symbolizes something so important to you.

being married, it was always a given. you save each other a seat because you belong beside him. knowing that the spot next to you won’t be his anymore, it breaks your heart because it was always his to own even if the day that he won’t be sitting there comes.

it’s such a shame your spot next to him is borrowed. as much as you want to, you can’t have the seat beside him anymore.

yoongi tenses beside you. you are so beautiful with your hair fixed like that. he can’t take his eyes off of you. he wants to memorize every detail of you so he can take it with him everywhere.

he figured that he can’t let you stay at an unfair relationship. he knew you were right. it has to end.

you loved him more than he deserved. he shouldn’t have loved you because of her. he should have loved you because you were you.

with his time left with you, he would at least try to make things right.

his hand twitches on his side as he stared at yours that lay prettily on your lap. the silver band around your ring finger glistens in reflection to the light of the room. he remembers vividly when he bought it.

the diamond engagement ring that sits next to it was the very same ring he planned on buying for her.

his bullshit plans.

his plans for her, he fulfilled them with you like a fool.

so adamant on doing the right things as if you were her, he didn’t realize he was doing the wrong things for you. it didn’t make him a better man or a better lover. it made him hurt you instead.

“i’d like to give thanks to mr. kim namjoon, who is our partner in a new deal arranged by my one and only beautiful daughter. a round of applause for these two amazing young people, everyone.”

your father mentioning you pushes out his thoughts as you give a thankful smile to everyone now looking at you. his gaze drifts over to who you were looking at.

namjoon, his friend’s brother. the cunningly smart ceo of the kim enterprise. yoongi had always admired his leadership skills. besides admiration, there might even be a slight envy of namjoon being a natural leader. he was rivals with him in business school. the guy was awfully talented and being seokjin’s closest friend, he knows that one of the reason seokjin gave up his spot for the ceo position is because he knows that his younger brother was far more capable than him. well, that and he just despises business classes.

yoongi doesn’t miss the way namjoon gives you his dimpled smile and a small nod of appreciation from his seat. he can’t help but feel a slight burn in his chest. seokjin never kept it secret that namjoon has a crush on you even before the two of you got together. he knows that it wasn’t the disrespectful kind. namjoon never crossed his line or sought after you. in fact, yoongi thought him to be too respectful, too nice, and too perfect. it made him insecure.

before, he was confident in your love because you chose him out of all the men at your feet. you gave him your love. now, he wasn’t sure you made the right choice.

gathering all the confidence he could have from his seat, he reaches for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. you don’t act surprised nor look at him but he vaguely feels you freeze in his hold.

he squeezes your hand lightly and all your tense muscles break loose. just like that, he feels your hand grip his softly. as if you were telling him it’s okay.

this one action was telling him that you still love him—you still find your home in him. it breaks him to know that you love him so much more than he ever did. it breaks him to know that if he asks, there is a great possibility that you will take him back. and god does he want to.

he doesn’t think he could take seeing you with another man but that would be selfish of him.

sooner or later, he has to let you go. for your sake.

you had your meal normally. the dessert does not taste as sweet with the silence between the two of you. seokjin and jungkook does all the talking, bickering like two siblings like they always do.

min yoongi was hard to read. how could he just hold your hand like that? maybe you were reading too much into it. this can’t be like this any further. you have to know what’s on his mind. he has to talk to you soon about it.

a shadowing presence towers behind you, urging you to look behind and see where kim namjoon stands. he’s on his feet, standing while holding a champagne glass on one hand and gives you a cute polite smile. he had finally approached you tonight. “mrs. min.” he greets.

you stand up from your seat in respect and greet him with a smile that rivals his. “namjoon, i told you to call me y/n.”

namjoon was older than you but not older than yoongi. although the three of you were in the same circle of people even before your parents introduced you to yoongi, namjoon was someone who just stood out to you since you were kids. you purposely sought him out for this deal because with him in it, it’s a sure success.

his eyes shift to the man that was still sitting on your table. “mr. min.” he gives a small bow in his direction. only then yoongi looks up and nods. “mr. kim.” he doesn’t smile back. even if it’s not like him to hand out smiles at every chance he can, you sense that there is something odd with the way he looks at namjoon.

“well, i’m not really here to talk about work. i just wanted to greet my new partner and her husband.” namjoon says, scratching the back of his head.

“but i am.” your father appears at your side, placing a hand on your back and namjoon’s, bringing you closer with him.

“go and promote the project with namjoon.” he whispers directly at you. you roll your eyes and namjoon chuckles and shakes his head. when he sees your reaction, he lightly pinches your side. “go!” he urges with a whisper.

“but i’m here with yoongi.” you protest while namjoon watches the adorable father-daughter interaction.

“yoongi wouldn’t mind.” he answers before walking in the middle of you and namjoon and to yoongi who directed his attention to speaking with seokjin and jungkook. he lays a hand on his shoulder and leans in.

“son, do you mind me taking y/n for a while? i know you lovebirds can’t be separated but think it’s for the company.” your father asks with shit-eating grin. the word ‘separated’ almost made you laugh at the bitter thought. you saw yoongi’s smug smirk at when he said it too. if your father only knew.

“of course, father.” yoongi answers while looking straight into your eyes.

you and namjoon were quickly whisked away to meet the guests. if you didn’t know what the invitations of the party says, you would guess it’s a party for you and namjoon.

from time to time, you would steal a glance at your husband who was still sitting with your friends. he was in conversation with them but is in deep thought.

“you’re going to burn holes into my brother’s head.” seokjin teases with a smirk. yoongi takes his eyes off you laughing at something your dad’s friend was saying and glares at seokjin instead.

as if it wasn’t enough, jungkook agrees. “yeah hyung, tone it down it’s kind of scary.”

“shut up, you two.” he growls and crosses his arms.

jungkook gives him a cheeky grin and slides into your seat. judging by the look on his face, yoongi already knows the younger man has an agenda. “what happened?”

yoongi narrows his eyes. “what do you mean what happened?”

“you two went together so i assume you’ve talked, right?” jungkook asks with a tilted head.

seokjin nods, resting his head on his fist while leaning on the table. “yeah, yeah. you’re right. i’ve been curious too, jungkook. what happened, yoongi?”

yoongi glares at his friend again and looks ahead of him. you were still talking to investors with namjoon. “tsk. we haven’t talked about it.”

“what the fuck do you mean you haven’t talked about it?” seokjin whispers angrily, brows furrowed as he leaned closer to yoongi’s face.

yoongi avoids the gaze of his friends. “i still don’t know what to say.”

jungkook dramatically slaps a hand to his forehead. “it’s not rocket science, hyung! say ‘i’m sorry. i don’t want yuna. i want you. i’ll be better.’” he says while doing his impression of how yoongi talks.

“okay, first of all,” yoongi puts a finger up in front of jungkook’s face. ”i don’t talk like that.” yoongi shifts his body to the other direction and asks seokjin, offended. “do i talk like that?” seokjin only shrugs.

he turns back to jungkook again. “and it’s not that easy.” he says with a sigh.

“he’s right.” seokjin agrees. yoongi and jungkook turn to look at him, wondering who he agrees with. the receiver of the stares continues his words. “yoongi’s right. it’s not easy.”

seokjin purses his lips, gaze hardening on yoongi. it’s not like seokjin to become serious like this, he’s almost angry. “it’s not easy to decide whether he really wants y/n to stay because he wants her… or he’s just afraid to be alone again.”

yoongi freezes on his seat, stunned at his best friend’s words. he hears the drag of seokjin’s stare as he stands up. from his peripheral vision, he sees seokjin fix his suit before talking.

“whatever it is, be sure it doesn’t hurt you or y/n anymore.” he says softly and walks away, leaving the two men seated pondering to themselves.

the ride back to your apartment was quiet until he parked in front of it. it was all over. you had said good night to him and told him he did a good job tonight. all that was left to do for you was to step out of the car. you’ve detached your seatbelt and had your hand on the handle when yoongi grabs your arm, stopping you mid-way of your attempt to escape him.

“can’t i fix this?”

and there it is.

he said those four words that he always wanted to say to you. he asks the question like you had the answer when he knows all too well that the answer lies with him. but this wasn’t him literally literally asking you if he can fix this, this was him asking you if you’re willing to give him a chance.

you slowly turn to him. there were no emotions in your eyes. no sign of anything. he had never seen you like this.

“can you?”

he swallows and releases your arm, not answering the question you ask back to him. how can he when he doesn’t know the answer? he had never known the answer. he didn’t when seokjin asked him that question when they were drinking. he didn’t when he realized that he sees a glimpse of her through you from the very beginning. he didn’t when you left him the divorce papers and the letter. he didn’t when seokjin dropped that bomb on him earlier at the party. he doesn’t know even now, where you had your whole self open in front of him, waiting for his answer.

wait.

everybody had to fucking wait for him. what was so great about a man like him? maybe he deserves to be alone. maybe you were better off without him.

no. fuck.

this isn’t about him. this is about you.

his priority is you.

he doesn’t want to lose you but you shouldn’t wait around until he knows why. he’s a mess right now.

you hum in satisfaction at his silence and inhaled with closed eyes. you exhale loudly and yoongi realizes you were holding back tears.

“i’m just–” you pause, your voice trembling. you shake your head and open your eyes to stare straight at him with pinched brows and pleading eyes. “i’m not so sure about myself when i’m with you anymore, yoongi.”

“you built our relationship on her, don’t you realize?”

the tears in his eyes well up before he even knows it. he watches as your face contort into a sob. you were breaking down in front of him like this. he made you feel like this. the woman he married. the woman he loves at night and wakes up to everyday. his best friend. his girlfriend. his wife. the woman he loves.

the woman who taught him to love again.

his mother couldn’t stand him moping around anymore. “it’s been two years”, she said. “just one date”, she pleads.

that’s how yoongi finds himself attending a dinner at a hotel one evening. he was running a bit late from work so he barely made an effort to look nice, not that he was making an effort for the past two years. he hasn’t cut his hair for months and he just threw on a loose black suit jacket and pants that he had at the trunk of his car. he was even wearing jordans, for fuck’s sake. he may be a teeny tiny bit out of place. he’s surely going to get a scolding from his mother at the prime age of 29.

the valet takes his keys in front of the entrance. it’s a good thing his family is a regular here. he doesn’t have to worry much about how he looks from the staff. the guests however, are a different story.

the looks he received were not much to think about. he was spared a glance but everyone just went on their way. okay, maybe he exagerrated with how he saw his outfit. yeah. fuck that, he was almost late.

he strides through the lobby, determined to get there before the woman he was about to meet but he doubts you’ll be late. he has heard of you. the soon-to-be ceo of the company that owns these hotels.

he can feel holes burning through his head, sensing that someone was staring at him. great. he’s being judged now like he expected. could this day get worse?

he shakes his head and steps in the elevator, turning to see the view of the lobby. he finds that a woman was staring at him. unlike him, she was dressed as if she own the place, clad in a simple black dress that reaches the floor with expensive jewelry all around her neck and wrists. she doesn’t even break eye contact with him as the elevator closes.

are people so shamelessly judgemental these days? he asks to himself.

“yoongi! you’re here just in time.” yoongi’s father greets just as he enters the private dining room. he bows at the four people seated. he can actually feel his mother’s stare from head-to-toe and hear her internal screams from where he was bowing.

your parents greet him with wide smiles. the staff slides the heavy chair from the table and lets him sit. he thanks him before he walks away to get a bottle of wine that your father ordered.

“my daughter texted me she’s by the lobby already. she’ll be here any second now.” your mother informs yoongi and his parents.

as if on cue, the door swings open to reveal the last person the party has been waiting for.

there you stand. the same person who was staring at him in the lobby. he sees your eyes widen for a moment when your eyes lay on him but you quickly recovered with a smirk you sent his way. a second after, you greet everyone with a smile.

you charmed your way through the dinner. you were smart, cunning, beautiful, and kind. you told him and his parents of your ambitions and wants for the company. even if you were at an age of dreaming, yoongi had no doubt you will be able to achieve them with the way you carry yourself.

you had so much light in your eyes. it reminded him of when he used to be like you. it reminded him of a time when he used to dream with her.

he walks you to the lobby after the dinner as yours and his parents insisted. your driver was already waiting outside. you stopped just by the exit.

“sorry for staring here in the lobby earlier.” you say with a genuine smile and walked again. yoongi was a bit shocked you would even bring it up. were you disappointed that he was the one you were meeting?

“it’s just that i smelled you when you passed by and you smell so good.” you explain as he follows you out of the doors. his eyes widened at your words. you weren’t staring because of his underwhelming style?

“it wasn’t because of what i wore?” he blinks, dumbfounded.

“what’s wrong with your clothes?” you look him up and down, examining. “you look hot.”

he was taken aback at your straightforwardness. “i’m a bit underdressed, aren’t i? few people were staring too.” he lightly argues, tilting his head as he fixes his jacket. the car door was already opened to you by your driver and was just waiting for you to come in.

“they were staring because you’re handsome, dude.” did you just call him dude? you huff before muttering. “you know for an old guy, you’re really mean to yourself.” dude, old guy, mean. he’s astonished at your choice of words.

“anyway, i gotta bounce. see you on our first date!” you jump in the back seat of the car as you said it. the driver shuts the door in front of him.

“i haven’t agreed?” he mumbles to himself a little too loud and sees you roll down your window.

“you will!” you give him a cheeky smile and place a hand over the rolled down glass window that was still slightly peeking out. “you haven’t told me what perfume you wear!” you giggle and finally roll up your tinted windows.

the car drives away and he’s left standing outside of the hotel, still dumbfounded at your character. he feels a bubbling feeling in his chest and he smiles. what was he so worried about today anyway? with that thought, he laughs to himself, not caring about the stares of passerbys.

that very next day, he texts his mother to arrange a first date with you. not because you called him handsome, or old man, or mean.

he agreed because for the first time in two years, you made him genuinely laugh.

his left hand gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. the stare you gave him, your tired eyes begging him to say something.

“i don’t want to lose you. that’s all i know.” yoongi admits.

you press your lips together in a downward smile and shake your head, sniffing before talking.

“that’s not enough, yoongi. i’m sorry.” the words leave your mouth steady, as if you put the last of your energy in it. then, you exit the car, leaving him all alone in the cold-conditioned vehicle.

at the age of 27, yoongi lost who he believed to be the love of his life. at the age of 29, he meets you. at the age of 31, he marries you. and at the age of 33, he lost you.

maybe in another universe, he was capable of loving you. in that universe, he would be cuddling you in bed, naked for each other to melt into. in that universe, he makes you genuinely happy with him. in that universe, he is completely and undeniably in love with you.

but in this universe, he sits across yuna in a restaurant. she arranged a private room for them, coincidentally in one of your hotels.

“you’re divorced?” yuna asks as she sips on her tea.

here she is in front of him, the woman he loved all his life. from high school to college and to that very last day on that cafe. she was his first everything. his first kiss, first love, and first heartbreak. what they had was a love burning of passion. eventually, the passion led him astray.

yuna used to be someone who cheered for him and he used to be someone who supported her.

“you won!” yuna jumps up and down with yoongi, their hands clasps together in glee. “we won!” yoongi screams back. the cheers of the people around them blended with their own screams in the gym.

he laughs wholeheartedly and wraps his arms around her, sweaty body pressing against hers. time seemed to stop for yoongi, he could feel his chest burning as he looked at her, eyes screaming with happiness that sources from something else than winning his basketball game.

“i think i love you.” yoongi blurts out.

yuna freezes in his hold, wide eyes staring at him in disbelief. he watches as a wide smile paints her face with unexplained happiness. she nods repeatedly and squeals.

“i think i love you too!”

it was then that the realization dawns on him. he’s in love with his best friend. since then and there, he vowed that wherever she goes, he will follow her as long as she wanted him too. and if she doesn’t, he will still support her from afar.

“yeah, yeah four months ago.” yoongi answers her. yuna nods and finishes chewing the slice of sashimi in her mouth.

“hmm, that’s not really long ago. how do you feel about that?” yuna asks, not even looking at him at all. 

it’s funny. he used to think about this all the time–seeing her again. now she’s in front of him but he is nothing but a stranger to her. there were no bitter feelings in her. it’s like yoongi was nothing but a thing in the past that she has forgotten. meanwhile, yoongi is wrecked. 

“i don’t know.” he used to answer with those three words a lot lately.

“i’m not going to beat around the bush. you know i hate doing that.” yuna uses a napkin to wipe her mouth. she had the same face, mannerisms, and voice yet yoongi can’t figure out the itching feeling at the back of his brain. 

he hears yuna put her chopsticks down on the table. he readies himself to what she was going to say, chewing his food slowly as he anticipates what comes next. 

“do you want to try again?” 

he fantasized about this a lot of times–less when he met you but it was definitely there. it was the kind of fantasy that a person don’t tell anyone, the kind that one doesn’t allow oneself to feed into. but sometimes, when that person’s guard is down, it creeps in like a thief in the night, showing him his deepest desires.

“what?” yoongi freezes and looks up at her. 

her. time is kind on yuna. she grew into a woman that she always wanted to be. she achieved her dreams and never stopped for anyone. silently, yoongi is proud of her still.

i’ll let you go so you can find her again. your words in the letter creeps into his head. now, her is asking him back. he should feel ecstatic. it was all so confusing that it’s making him all angry. all that pain he caused you and he has the right to feel disappointment?

“we’re both single. we both changed. we weren’t perfect, yoongi. we were kids. we outgrew each other before but we can try again now.” yuna explains further, as if proposing a business deal. funny. wasn’t she a doctor?

but she was right. they outgrew each other. yoongi focused on his work and gave in to the pressure of being his father’s heir. slowly, the support that he promised her faded away. he became restless and anxious. all yuna wanted was to love him like they promised.

“why do you believe in me?” yuna asked as she lays on yoongi’s lap on the couch. multiple medical books laying around them. 

the memory was still fresh in their minds. yoongi had gone over his ways and helped her study, creating flashcards and powerpoint presentations for her reporting in class. 

yoongi caresses her hair, making her melt in his comfort. “because you give me strength.” he pauses, contemplating if his next words. “and i want more for you.”

although wealthy, yuna’s social status wasn’t in the same level as yoongi’s. her parents were doctors but her father died even before she met yoongi.  it’s her dream to be as good as her parents in the field of medicine. on the other hand, yoongi, heir to his father’s businesses, is just aiming to do well to please his father. 

is business his dream? no. he doesn’t think he has one. business has been planted on his mind since birth but yuna, he can see that she’s a dreamer. in this day and age, dreamers are rare. he wants to protect that of her. she didn’t ask him to but it’s his way of showing her he loves her.

“i love you.” she replies. “i always will. i mean it.” 

“i always will too.” 

“no. really! even if we break up, i think you will always have a place in my heart.” and yoongi smiles, loving the thought because he knows that his heart will do the same. 

“and i will always come back to you.” he says seriously, making yuna giggle in his hold.

“that’s cheesy.”

“whatever. i’m not kidding. so you can go ahead and fly how high you want. i’ll always wait for you.” 

in sales, there are commutative contracts, meaning the two parties participating give and receive equivalent values. but there is an exception which is aleatory contracts, which are basically sales of chance or hope. think of it like a purchase for a lottery ticket. you put money in without expecting anything in return but a tiny chance of hope. 

that was what yoongi was doing wrong. he’s been seeing his relationships like a commutative contract when it’s far from it. he thinks that true love should be give or take but it doesn’t have to be. sometimes, you just love unconditionally without expecting anything in return but a glimmer of hope. 

you loved him like that. like a fool, he thought he was giving you enough back. 

“what?” yuna urges when yoongi takes longer than usual to reply. “do you still love her?”

your face immediately flies to his mind. how were you doing? it’s been four months since the divorce was finalized. there hasn’t been contact with you since then. such a scandal shook everyone you knew. there wasn’t a clear reason how you explained the split. ‘our plans for the future don’t meet anymore so we have to go our separate ways’, is what the two of you agreed to say others. both of your parents weren’t exactly angry but they didn’t hide their disappointment. 

in those four months, yoongi buried himself in his work. he heard you’ve been doing the same. taehyung, his assistant, is in your friend group so he catches up through him. your project collaboration seemed to be doing well, he’s been hearing a lot about it lately. 

in the four years of his relationship with you, he did love you. he cared for you more than anyone else. you supported him in all his endeavors. you helped him pick himself back up. 

yuna was great. seven years of relationship wasn’t something you can just throw away. he still loves her and regrets the mistakes he made. if asked, he would still say that he will stop the world for her. people often say that usually, we don’t end up with the person we would stop the world for. he didn’t want that before. it had to be her. but now he understands.

it took four months of being separated from you and yuna in front of him for him to finally know the answer.

stopping the world for a person is impossible. you want a person that moves through the world with you and holds you through it. he wants to keep it spinning for you. 

“she made my world turn.” yoongi answered.

seated on the stool in front of the bar wasn’t something you expected to be this busy night. it all started when you forced information out of your friend, taehyung.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.” you eye taehyung as he sits besides you on your couch. 

taehyung, jimin, and jungkook came over in your house to hang for the night. they’ve been doing that a lot more than usual for the past four months. no one was saying anything but all of you were sure what was the reason for that. now, jimin and jungkook is passed out on the floor on the mattress for some reason while watching the movie.

his eyes widened and the popcorn he was catch in his mouth stops mid air and falls on his lap. he gives you a nervous smile and tilts his head. “your interior is kind of… ugly?” he blurts out, making your jaw drop and slapping his arm. 

“the fuck? you know what i’m talking about!” and he does. it’s probably not very healthy in your journey of moving on but you still ask taehyung about yoongi. when you were married, if there was someone else who knows about yoongi’s whereabouts, it was taehyung. he was your friend first before he was hired by yoongi. meaning, he was your ally. he told you of his schedules when you ask and helped you plan out dates with matching your schedules. 

taehyung doesn’t tell you much more than he should now that you’re not together but he still tells you when he thinks you need to hear it. there’s only one thing you ask of him to tell you even if it crosses boundaries. 

you have a great feeling that that’s about to happen tonight as taehyung has been avoiding your gaze since he came in. 

“he did it.” you concluded. 

taehyung drops his guard and nodded warily. you huff and look back at the television. 

he met with yuna.

unfortunately, namjoon was dragged in your misery. coming from your dinner meeting, just as you were about to leave, you bit the bullet and asked namjoon if he wanted to join you for some drinks. 

it was bound to happen. he’s no longer yours. still, you can’t help but be hurt. were they together now? does he hold her like he used to and give him his adorable gummy smile while they cuddle in bed? 

“another glass of this, please.” you say to the bartender. 

namjoon looks at you disapprovingly as he takes a sip on his cocktail, the same one he asked since you both arrived here. 

“why are you not drinking? you don’t even drive.” you ask him, a little bit buzzed. you’ve grown closer to the man due to your meetings that you can now call him a friend. 

namjoon’s cheeks raise, an amused smile forming on his face. he doesn’t answer your question and just shrugs. you gather you’re entertaining to him when you drink.

“why is it that you don’t drive? you have everything but a driver’s license.” you thank the bartender as he hands you your new glass of coke and rum. 

namjoon chuckles. “you don’t know this but i’m actually really clumsy.” 

“no way. you? you’re like really responsible and amazing and cool.” you slurred your words out like a kid, pouting and laying your head on the bar. 

namjoon grabs your shoulder, gently guiding you to sit up. “don’t lean your head. you’ll get drunk faster.” he advises. when you take his advice, he continues. “and you don’t know this because i put up a really good facade but i’m actually really clumsy.” he sighs to himself, tapping the bar with his long fingers. 

“what do you do when you’re outside and want to be truly alone then?” you ask, holding on to your glass. you don’t look at him when you ask this because the question was not solely for him. you ask the question for yourself.

“i bike.” he answers. you chuckle, amused. you picture a namjoon on his suit riding a bike because that’s the only namjoon you know. 

“i can hardly imagine kim namjoon, the famous ceo of kim enterprises, to be riding a bike.” you didn’t mean it in a bad way. namjoon has always been a humble elite, no matter how ironic that sounds. 

“i do it a lot actually. every morning.” 

“really?”

“really.”

“why do you like it?” you were like a kid asking these questions.

“i see a lot when i bike. people, trees, i can the feel the air hitting my face, the exhaustion from the exercise, it’s therapeutic.” he says it so genuinely. he really enjoys riding bikes. 

“sounds to me like you’re persuading me to bike too.” you tease for it really is tempting when it comes out from his mouth. this is probably why he gets so many investors.

“you can come with me.” he blurted out, making you look at him.

“i can?” 

he gives you that damned dimpled smile. “yeah. how about saturday morning?” 

you don’t think you have any important business on saturday morning and if you do, you’ll just have your secretary push it. you were too curious on what makes namjoon… namjoon to care. and again, you were a little bit buzzed.

“i’d like that.” you answer with a smile. 

you were tipsy but you’re not completely out of it to not realize why namjoon was doing this. from your miserable drinking to acting like a fool in front of him, you know he noticed your gloomy era. this was him trying to console you as a new friend and you appreciate that he doesn’t ask questions. 

drunk decisions are seldom good ideas. luck may be on your side this morning. the thing is, you never knew how therapeutic this was. but god, were you tired.

“do you not workout?” namjoon jeered when the both of you stop paddling for a while. he watched you pant excessively while glaring at him. 

“this is not the time to mock my physical unfitness.” you say through your pants. namjoon hands you his water tumbler because your dumbass forgot to bring one. before you grab it, he takes off the lid for you. you quickly mutter a thanks before drinking. 

“i just thought you were with that ass.” 

you almost spit out your drink, blush spreading your whole face more than the one caused by your exhaustion. did namjoon just admit he stares at your ass? 

before you even get the chance to reply, namjoon speeds off, leaving you to scream his name in protest. 

despite the expected exhaustion, you were glad you came with namjoon to his morning routine. you never realized this part of the city was so beautiful. you were someone who was driven everywhere since you were a kid and all the biking you had done past your teenage years are on the stationary bike at the gym you rarely go to. you never realized a change of transportation brings a different view of the city.

you don’t easily catch up with namjoon. it took him to slow down with his pedalling for you to be inline with him. when you were back to his side, slowly pedalling this time, he started to randomly give you the names and facts of the trees and plants you passed by. you found it adorable how much he knew about botany. it made sense how he goes out of his way more than other businessmen when it comes to the environment. although it’s a reality that capitalism and environmental care can hardly co-exist, you can see from his work that namjoon tries hard. 

“i’m not very good at things people are normally good at. when i feel that things are getting too tight, looking at art keeps me grounded. sometimes all you really need is a moment of pause or to step back and see the bigger picture.” 

you ask him more of his hobbies, learning more about namjoon was an unexpected delight. he is so different from his reputation. he’s actually pretty child-like and now you see why seokjin loves to take care of him even if people believe namjoon takes care of seokjin more. he tries cooking but he fails more than he succeeds. he often breaks a myriad of things. he’s scared of driving. it seemed to him that destruction follows him everywhere he goes and anything he does. except business. it’s the thing he’s good at. that, and growing his bonsais. 

besides biking and taking in nature, he’s an art appreciator of any form. 

“you get invitations to every museum in the country?” 

“yep. if you want to go to a specific one, i can get them for you.” he suggests. 

he has lead you to the riverside, stopping by to feel the air by the water. he leans on the railings as he drinks water. 

“hm. biking and now museums?” you tease, hinting something. you weren’t ignorant to what seokjin says about his brother. still, you never thought it to be serious before but now you were testing the waters. it’s not healthy to lead him on when you aren’t ready for another relationship.

he shakes his head. “i know what seokjin blabs about. but really, i’m just trying to be a friend.” he confesses. “for now.” he adds.

you take his answer as it is and not press further. you and your companion’s silence grows heavy for a while, not in an awkward way but rather a comforting one. the scenery in front of you pulls you in, as if to not worry about anything. 

it’s funny. you were always going on trips with yoongi, pulling him everywhere so you can create memories. your destinations were breathtakingly beautiful and known worldwide. you took pictures here and there but you don’t think you looked as much as you did now. why is it a river, one you see in your city everyday, is making you feel more than the wonders of the world?

it’s because in front of those landmarks, ocean, tourist spots, you see him in the front lines. loving yoongi is a privilege you will forever be thankful for. and if you were asked, you will do it all over again. 

“do you know why yoongi and i didn’t work out?”

the raised brows on his face meant he didn’t expect the question. he purses his lips and shakes his head. “i only know what you’ve said to the others.” 

“there really wasn’t much reason.” you tell him. “he actually was a pretty great husband, more than most of us can ask for.” 

you began telling him the story and he listens attentively all throughout, nodding from time to time. whether it’s because of his comforting presence or the beautiful scenery, you don’t know why you spilled everything to him. regardless, you don’t think it’s something you will regret. 

when you were done, he speaks. “it seemed he really loves you.”

what? “do you think i’m stupid for letting him go?” 

“no, i meant from the outside. from my sight, it seemed he really loves you.” 

“why do you think that?”

he takes a few second to answer, deep in thought. “i don’t know. call it intuition.” namjoon answers with a shrug. 

you roll your eyes. “and who made your intuition reliable?” 

“all of kim enterprise’ success.” he answers smugly. 

you huff. “show off.” 

“ha. i’m kidding. no ceo is great due to intuition alone.” 

“yeah, shut up.” 

you don’t know what namjoon was truly thinking, or perhaps, it’s truly intuition. your mind brings you back to when yoongi handed to you the signed papers.

the atmosphere in your previous home grows heavy and quiet as he puts down the papers previously in his hand. your eyes glower at the pieces of paper.

“so… this is it, huh.” you chuckle bitterly as you stare at his signature. 

you were seated across from each other at the dining table in your penthouse. yoongi in his lounge wear while you went straight from work. 

he doesn’t answer, forearms rested on the table. his slouched form made him look smaller in your eyes. 

“i have one question.” you confessed, one that was lingering in your mind for a long time. 

you don’t wait for his affirmation and continue. “how many things…” you inhaled. “how many things do you think about before you get to me?” he looks up at you, now looking into your eyes. “all those times you looked at me and saw her, do you even get to me?” 

“because for me, i find ways to see you anywhere–the real you.” you continue. you don’t cry but you wanted to. but your body doesn’t allow you to cry. it’s as if there was something about baring yourself in front of someone isn’t something sad or worth crying for. it’s powerful. 

“i won’t do it for long, though. i promise you.” you say and you mean it.

the two of you sat there in the dark, sitting with nothing to hear but the beat of your hearts. it all boils down to this. the two of you not moving, feeling each other out. there was no certain next move for either of you. two years of relationship and two years of marriage, abruptly cut. this is the last time you sit together as husband and wife. 

“i’ll do the same.” he finally speaks. “i promise.”

your hand slowly creeps into his and holds it. his other hand goes over yours. the kiss of his touch pulls you in but you let yourself go. 

you are letting him go. 

more than a past lover, yuna was his best friend. he was spending most his days with her, learning what changed and what stayed with each other. today, he was having lunch with her at the hospital she transferred to from the states. 

“she sounds wonderful.” yuna was genuine with her words as he told her about you. 

“yeah. i was never lonely when i was with her.” yoongi agreed. yuna gives him a smile. 

“how about you? were you lonely?” yoongi asked her. 

“it’s hard not to be when we’re at this age and single.” yuna cracked a joke. 

yoongi shakes his head, finding her words true. “you’ll find someone soon.” 

“i have to now because you heartlessly rejected me.” yuna lightly stabs the fish on her plate. 

yoongi chuckles but gives her a look. “i know. i know. i’m kidding.” she saves herself.

yoongi was glad yuna was back. he does love her a lot. it took them six years to finally say what they want to each other. they both had their faults and all are forgiven.

yoongi’s regret is that he couldn’t support her but in reality, they were supposed to grow apart to grow. it would never have worked out even if they did try. and even if they could try again, it was not the same. 

they didn’t love each other anymore.

yoongi was in love with the thought of her and the thought of the boy he used to be. yuna was someone he supported with all of him. he did good. and he wanted to do better for you. that’s why he tried his best to please you. but it was exhausting him and he didn’t even know it. 

his fault is that he got blindsided and forgot himself. internally and even if he wouldn’t admit it, he blamed you for it. so his mind started going back to how it all started which is yuna. he started comparing her to you and started seeing her in you. but he was too much of a coward to be alone to acknowledge it. it was all an endless cycle and he’s the problem. 

“i know it’s been 8 months since the divorce, you know you can try again with her, right?” 

the obvious answer was yes, he can approach you again. you can start again, he can go on his knees and beg you to take him back. but the first  question is, will you accept him? and the next, should he? what if he just brings chaos to your life again? he doesn’t really want to bother you anymore.

“hey, hoseok!” 

yuna calls someone behind yoongi. he turns his head to find a doctor who waves back at her. in his hands is a tray of food just like the one in front of him on the table. 

“hey yuna. hey good looking stranger.” the man radiates good and happy energy as he approached the two of you. this is the first time he has seen a doctor this happy. yuna opens a chair for him beside her asking him to take a seat. he accepts the offer and sits down.

“hoseok, meet yoongi. yoongi, meet hoseok. i have a feeling that you two will get along.” 

yoongi gives him a respectful smile and nod as he chews his food, not so cheery with meeting new people. “you can call me hobi.” 

“wait, wait, wait.” hoseok rests his elbows on the table and leans in. “are you like, that ceo yoongii?”

yuna’s smile widens. “hold up, you know him?” 

“hell yeah, i’m friends with kim namjoon. he’s a ceo too. do you know him?” 

oh.

him.

he’s been hearing a lot about you two. it really is a small world, isn’t it?

“i’m familiar with him, yes.” yoongi answers. 

hoseok nods. “yeah, we’ve been friends since i was busk dancing by the river during my pre-med days. we haven’t hung out in a while much since i got a bit busy with shifts but i think i saw you once or twice in the business section of the news.” 

“that’s nice. hey, you’re kind of famous.” yuna adds in. 

“namjoon’s a great guy and an even better ceo.” yoongi agrees. 

“yeah, if you want we can all hang together. it’ll be a boys night out.” hoseok suggests. 

yuna huffs, stabbing her fish once again. that poor dead fish, yoongi thinks. “y’all met two minutes ago and you’re already planning things without me?” 

hoseok laughs, loud. “oh you’re right. it’s fine, you can come too. namjoon will probably want to bring his girlfriend anyway.” 

it’s like yoongi’s hearing got better than usual as his ears were all in when he heard hoseok’s last sentence. “girlfriend?” he couldn’t possible mean…

“yeah, he’s been dating this girl y/n who he worked with. he’s been bringing her to his morning bike rides which is like a big deal because he never does that. and if he’s not busy with work, he’s like bringing her to museums for the past four months and stuff. that’s also one of the reasons we haven’t had time to see each other. but he promised we would hang soon.” 

yoongi and yuna froze as soon as they heard your name. yoongi couldn’t even take in the next words hoseok rambled on after your name. hoseok kept talking and talking and all he can think about is you in namjoon’s arms.

he felt his heart go up his throat. 

his chest physically hurt. 

time froze for him. he doesn’t even notice yuna pinching hoseok and whispering something to him. hoseok’s eyes widened as he says sorry repeatedly.

he was bound to find out this way because since you both signed those papers, he was just another has-been person in your life; an outsider, if you will. if there was someone who he wanted for you, it would be namjoon. namjoon is the perfect guy for you. it was expected but it still hurt.

yoongi’s chair screeches against the floor as he stands up, his eyes gloomy and head down. 

“it was nice meeting you, hoseok. but i think i have somewhere to be now.” he says and hoseok nods, saying sorry again. 

“yuna.” he acknowledges her too as a form of goodbye.

“yeah, drive safe. i’ll text you later.” he nods at her and walks away, making his way home. a home without you. 

“jungkook, jimin, what are you doing here?” 

your best friend’s round twinkling eyes meets your tired ones as you entered your apartment. you shouldn’t have trusted him with your lock’s passcode. jimin is just focused on playing.

“jin and jimin wanted to try the new ps5 game and your tv is so much better than mine.” jungkook explains as he turns his eyes back to the screen in front of him.

“that’s dumb. you’re both rich and seokjin literally has a game room at home.” you replied with a straight face as you kick your shoes off. 

“or maybe he just wanted to see how you were doing because he says you don’t hang out with your best friend anymore.” jin appears in your view with a water bottle in hand, giving you a teasing smirk as jungkook pouts.

“he’s jealous of namjoon.” jimin whispers in an obnoxiously loud way, purposely letting the younger man playing in front of the television to hear.

jungkook doesn’t deny or acknowledge what he heard and just huffs in annoyance. although you and jungkook were the same age, he often acts like a stubborn younger brother. 

“why don’t you hang out with us next time, then?” you suggest, stepping in your living room and tossing your hand bag next to jungkook on the couch. 

jungkook’s eyes widens but still doesn’t stray from the game. “i can do that?”

“why not?” jimin speaks for you when he sees your confused face.

jungkook finally looks at you standing then at seokjin who was now sitting next to him, now amused at the reaction on your faces. he leans back, his back meeting the couch rest. 

“w-well, i kind of thought– nevermind.” 

“you thought what?” you press on, raising a brow.

“that they were like, y’know…” jungkook scratches the back of his head. 

it takes him a while to continue so seokjin does it for him. “dates.”

it was your eyes’ time to widen at the assumption, arms dropping in defense. “w-what? they were not dates!”

“i told you so.” jimin teases. jungkook glares at him. “to be fair, joonie told me they were not dates and i told him that too.”

“i’ve just been in a divorce. how would that make me look? how would that make namjoon and i look?” you groan before turning to head to your room.

you left your two friends arguing about their game in the living room while you freshen up. in the shower, you thought about yoongi. it’s been eight months. when is it okay for a divorcee to move on to another relationship? is there a definite time of moving on that would be deemed respectable to your previous one? have you moved on? will you move on enough to be open to date? 

has yoongi moved on?

has he ever loved you enough to be someone he had to get over to?

you like to think that you were someone important in his life but you really wanted to be someone who made a dent on his like she used to. maybe that way, there would be a constant reminder of you in his life even now that you were gone. 

is that bad? to wish you hurt him like she did?

knocks on your bedroom door snaps you out of your thoughts. you shout, letting the person know they can come in while you do your skincare routine. 

“yo.” jungkook steps in, throwing up a random gang sign. 

“what do you want now?” you feigned annoyance as he throws himself on your bed. his back rests on your headboard.

“i can’t check on my best friend now?” he crosses his arms and pouts. 

you scoff and ignore the rhetorical question. “how’s taehyung?”

“my other best friend is completely fine, thank you.” he answers, childlike sass lacing his voice. 

“i don’t think anyone associated with you is ever completely fine.” you raise your brows.

your best friend huffs, offended and now sitting to face you at the side of the bed. “you just want to know how your ex-husband’s doing. you can just ask me without asking taehyung. he’s my friend too.”

you tap your face one last time as you finish the last step of your routine, letting the product air dry as you face jungkook. “fine. how is he then?” 

you hadn’t prepared yourself for the answer.

“i heard he’s seeing someone.” jungkook responded, eyes now heavy with seriousness. 

you gulped, shoulder slumping and you don’t respond to your best friend. 

he’s seeing someone? was it yuna? did they finally found each other’s arms? did he give her his gummy smile as he kissed her, telling her he had only truly loved her? did he sweep her off her feet with how long he have waited for her? 

“i’m sorry. are you okay?” your best friend’s face written with worry as he asked you. 

“is it yuna?” if it’s her, it’s okay. at least, you know he’ll truly be happy if it’s her.

“i don’t know. i only asked him if he’s doing better when i saw him at the bar one time. he said yes because he’s seeing someone now.” you nod. 

jungkook bits his lip as he sees your stunned state but continues. “i didn’t want to tell you but… you seem happy with namjoon. so if you think can move on now… i think it’s okay.”

is it? can you really go forward with your life? do you even want to?

“get up!”

yoongi was awaken by a thud on his stomach. when his eyes fluttered open, he finds yuna holding one of his pillow, threatening to hit him again with it. 

“fuck. what are you doing here at this hour?” he complains when he looks at the time. five in the morning isn’t exactly an ideal time for a guest in his home. 

“shut up. get ready. we’re leaving in ten minutes.” 

he doesn’t know what happened after those words. yuna basically dragged his corpse to do a morning routine and when that was done, he found himself sitting on the passenger’s seat of yuna’s car. 

“where the fuck are we even going?” he says with close eyes. 

yuna doesn’t answer and drove quietly. yoongi was too sleepy to press further or complain. instead, he let himself drift back to sleep as the cold temperature of the vehicle and the comforting scene of the morning lulled him back to it.. 

when yuna shakes him awake, he finds himself in a familiar place.

“why are we here?” 

it was his and yuna’s university. yoongi hasn’t been here in a while. he admires the buildings that have aged well, if not hasn’t changed at all.  “i was invited to a talk here later.” 

“and?”

“i just thought you’d like to see it again.” yuna shrugged.

yuna led him to the field where they sat on one of the bleachers. there was not much people except for a few that were on their morning jog. how could there be? he doubts there’s a class at 6am. 

the cold morning air fights against his thick maroon sweater that he threw on this morning. yuna and him sits in silence, letting the nostalgic view fill their thoughts instead of words. 

“remember when we were kids?” yuna breaks the silence after a while “we had so many dreams.” 

“i didn’t have much, really.” he scoffs. 

“don’t say that.” yuna complains softly.

“what? it’s true.”

“no. i mean it. you’ve always downplayed your dreams. you had dreams.” yuna says seriously. 

yoongi doesn’t answer. did he have dreams for himself? all he wanted was to become what his parents expected from him. yuna, however, had dreams for herself. she was determined to be a doctor even when all the odds were against her. that was the dream. he wanted to fulfill that for her.

some nights were like this. 

“i don’t think I can do this.” yuna is breaking down on the bed with yoongi trying to calm down his girlfriend and roommate on his chest. she really is a smart girl but sometimes, it all just pents up inside and she couldn’t help but burst. 

this is when Yoongi would come to her rescue. yoongi chuckles as he wipes her tears away. he doesn’t say anything at first and lets her cry in his arms. he lets the comfort of his warmth do the job of calming her. 

yoongi loved the thought of being in service to the ones he loves. especially her. he loves how he is her anchor and how she immediately runs to him whenever she sees him. it’s like they were each other’s person. 

“if you can’t do it anymore, then don’t.” yoongi suggests, looking down at her teared up swollen eyes that’s looking at him.

“what? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of you. i think.” yoongi suggests some more. 

yuna pouts. “okay, rich kid. I don’t accept hand overs.” 

he snorts. “they wouldn’t be handovers if you’re my wife.” 

yuna freezes in his hold. “wife?” If her cheeks were red from crying or blushing, yoongi wasn’t sure but he do hope it’s the latter.

yoongi raises a brow. “yes, wife.” 

he could see her hold back her smiles and bites her lips instead. “hm.”

“what you smiling for?” Yoongi teases.

“nothing. that’s oddly comforting but I think I’ll go back to studying now.” yuna giggles before jumping off the bed. she wasn’t wearing anything but his shirt and panties and from his spot in the bed, he could see her ass very well. 

“is this you rejecting my suggestion?” yoongi smirks and places his arm beside his head, raising his line of view. 

“It’s very very tempting, mr. min. I’ll tell you that.” she turns to him from her seat and continues. “make that suggestion a proposal at the right time and i’ll get back to you.” 

“my dream was you.” he blurted out. 

neither of them were looking at each other but their presence screams louder than any sight could ever behold. they were completely open to each other. 

“and that destroyed you.” 

“it didn’t. you did. when you left.” 

it must’ve been the wind. or the exhaustion. or the way the university still feels the same as it did years ago. there was no bitterness, no pain, no longing, just the plain, old, truth.

“seven years. you just threw it away like that. why?” 

no voice was raising. if someone was to look at them, they would think they’re just having a casual morning conversation, not baring themselves to each other. 

“because you never had the guts to do it.” 

yoongi couldn’t answer. 

“you never had the guts to say you were tired. you just gave and gave and gave. you were chipping away and you didn’t even notice. instead, you got angry at yourself. you got exhausted. and i know you blamed me but you never showed it to me. maybe you didn’t even realize it yourself that you blamed me. you just sealed it all away so you could be there for me.”

“and even when i broke up with you, you never fought for me to stay. because you were disappointed in yourself even when i told you over and over that it was not your fault. you didn’t have the guts and you still don’t have it now.” 

yoongi grips the edge of the bleachers. “why are you saying this?” 

“i’m saying i’m sorry.” 

“for what?”

“i’m sorry i didn’t built you up like i should’ve. i’m sorry because i expected more from you. i was angry because i thought that you loved me less because you didn’t give me as much time as you did… but you shouldn’t have to choose me over yourself.” she takes his hand beside her and puts it in her grasp. 

“you came!” 

yoongi appears with a bouquet of flowers at the backstage of the auditorium. yuna had just presented her research that was chosen by the professors and doctors. 

it really was a surprise because yoongi was already busy with his master’s degree and learning the business with his father. the last time yuna had something as big as this, yoongi had missed it. he never forgave himself as yuna was more than disappointed with that happening.

and that’s why when yoongi checks his phone that night, he could see the number of miscalls from his friends and father. he ignores them and goes back to sleeping beside his lover.

not knowing that she was looking at his screen the whole time and realizing she isn’t good for him anymore.

she peppered kisses on the back of his hand. “it was never your fault and i’m okay now. i’ve reached my dreams and you had too. even if you say your dreams wasn’t a sob story like mine, they were still dreams… and i am so so proud of you.” 

“you look so handsome!” yoongi’s mom squeals as she takes a picture of yoongi on his graduation gown. 

yoongi gives her a peace sign, but his eyes search around for only one person. 

“she should be coming soon, son. didn’t you tell me she had to be at the hospital today? and we still have dinner.” 

they didn’t understand. he wanted her here at his moment of success–a milestone and she wasn’t here. 

yoongi watches as she caresses his hand. “i’m sorry for hurting you and i want you to know that i release you from that promise. i’m here now. you don’t have to wait for me anymore. it’s my turn to support you.” 

“all the pain we’ve caused each other, all these years… i’ve thought of you and loved you. they weren’t for nothing because even when you weren’t there for me anymore, your support is what i carried on. you made me who i am, yoongi. i will always be thankful for that and i will always love you just like i promised.” 

“what do you want me to do?” yoongi looks up at the sky, preventing the tears wetting his eyes from falling.

“i think you know what you want to do.” yuna smiles. 

still looking up, yoongi cages his lower lip with his teeth, nodding in reply.

yoongi is rarely nervous. 

but here he stands in front of a closed door, palms sweating. he hoped the paper in his right hand isn’t affected by it.

he hears a ding inside and the lock of the door click, indicating that it’s gone unlocked. he braces himself for the person coming out.

it’s now or never. 

you open the door to the person that’s been on your mind for days, for weeks, for months. 

yoongi was in front of you, paper bag in hand. 

he was wearing his casual clothes, a plain pullover and sweat pants. he gave you his cheeky smile. “hi.”

you couldn’t believe you eyes and you take a minute to finally realize the situation you were in. you shake your head to bring yourself back. “h-hi! w-what are you doing here?” 

yoongi was still standing there awkwardly and raised the paper bag in his right hand. “i brought you cheesecake. can i come in?” 

“yes. i suppose you can.” you answer, unsure what was his agenda with his visit. you move out of the doorway, letting him inside your home. 

this wasn’t your home and he had never been here before. still, he heads to the kitchen and gets all the needed utensils for the cake. he places them on your dining table, servicing you like he used to when he cooked for you.

you watched as he moved in your home as if a divorce never happened. yoongi was just like this, you think. he was just genuinely caring. one of his love languages had always been acts of service. 

“eat. this one’s your favorite.” he had cut up a slice for you already. 

he didn’t even prepare one for himself. 

“what about you?” you ask. 

“i won’t take long.” he continues. “i think.” 

you sit down in front of the plate with the slice, taking a fork and a small piece of the cake. you know he wouldn’t let you talk if you haven’t eaten what he prepared. when you chewed the sweet piece of dessert in your mouth, you couldn’t deny you hated it. you loved it and he could see that, you were sure with the smile he was giving.

“why are you here again?” you finally ask. 

“i just have one question.” he answers taking a sit beside you at the head of the table. you take in how much he has changed over the months. his hair was longer now it was needing pins to hook on his hair, and it was so so fluffy. 

you take a piece in your mouth again, nodding. “yeah, sure.” 

you weren’t really expecting the next words to come out of his mouth.

“are you happy dating namjoon?” 

you were glad cheesecake isn’t a very chokeable kind of food because if it was, you would be fighting for your life right now. instead, you froze and look at him with wide eyes. 

you don’t answer quick.

are you dating namjoon?

no, right?

there wasn’t a label established like that. but it’s obvious that something’s going on between the two of you. 

and you like namjoon. he was sweet, insightful, and loveable. he was a good friend and would be an even better boyfriend. 

“i…” you trail off your words, never having to said the words out loud before. you never thought it would be in front of your ex-husband, either. 

“i like him.” you finally say.

you could literally see yoongi’s shoulder slump and his face fall. but he still smiles. he gives you a pained one and does the thing where he scratches the back of his with his pointer finger. “heh. i guess i’m a little late now, aren’t i?”

“w-what are you talking about?” you ask, genuinely confused if you’re getting the right idea.

“i’m saying i’ve gone a little late at winning you back.” his head lowers, not meeting your eyes.

your brows furrow. “aren’t you seeing someone? yuna?”

it was his turn to be confused. “no? yuna and i are just friends now.” 

“but jungkook said you said you were seeing someone? at the bar?” you point out.

“oh. that was my therapist. i’m seeing a therapist.” he explained and your mouth forms an ‘o’. what the fuck jungkook, you think. 

“okay, wow. misunderstandings. okay. sorry. jungkook was being dumb.” you chuckled and drink from your glass of water. 

“does that change things?” yoongi speaks up. he gulps before continuing. “me not dating anyone?” 

his eyes bore into yours as he awaits the answer. you think about it carefully.

does it change things? he is available now and he wanted you back. clearly, things have been going well for him. he was just friends with yuna and has been seeing a therapist. he was doing better. 

but is that enough for you to risk getting hurt again? is him saying he wants you back enough for you to accept him again? well, he does say i love you to your face everyday while thinking of someone else entirely before. 

does taking the risk involve waiting for him? you can’t just wait for him again like before–wait for him to see you, to look at you, to love you. 

he was doing better but he isn’t better enough for you to take him back. 

frankly, you don’t think you could get hurt anymore. you don’t want to put yourself in that position anymore. if you do, you feel like you’ll lose yourself in hoping. you can’t just wait for him forever.

you can’t help but be scared to fall back to him again. what he is over you is the love you have for him but what you have over yourself is the decision you make.

even if he offers himself to you in bare, you had that choice for yourself. 

“no.” you answer firmly. “i still like joon.”

you thought namjoon only gets invited to museum’s inside the country. turns out, the man was an art connoisseur from around the world.

jungkook and jimin was dragged along with you to paris. your best friend acted like he didn’t want to be here but proved himself otherwise when his eyes sparkle at everything he sees in the city. he does have a hidden love for art and painting. jimin, on the other hand, is loved by the locals here, which is very rare for paris. one artist was so mesmerized by him that you think he’s practically his muse now. you won’t be surprised if you see your friend’s face in one of these museums in the future. 

you only ever attend museums because they are one of the disguised ways for business people to socialize and mask it as some art appreciating good time. rich people who don’t give a flying fuck about these paintings only use them to flex and flaunt their wealth.

but here, namjoon talks to you in every painting, sometimes just staring at them with you. it’s really amazing how he knows so much about these artists and their art. 

how does he store all those information? you literally didn’t even need the guide.

“this one’s famous for his dotting.” he points to the one in front of you. jungkook reacts about how sick the drawing is or something like that and you just agree. whatever your companions were saying, you just tune it out.

it wasn’t that you don’t care about the paintings or something like that. it’s just that your feet were killing you. you weren’t informed that this museum is literally so freaking huge. you had been walking this madness for two hours and you should’ve worn your white sneakers instead. 

and just like all times, namjoon notices. he always does. 

“hey, you okay?” joon asks as he looks down at your unresting feet as you shift on one foot to another repeatedly. “does your feet hurt?” 

“no, i’m fine. let’s finish the tour.” you lie through your teeth.

namjoon sighs and looks over at jungkook. “can you guys wait here?” jungkook agrees and namjoon leaves in a hurry. no doubt about to do something about your feet. 

“why did you wear heels, anyway?” jungkook asks, a little bit judging. jimin smacks the back of his head. “because this was their date!” 

jungkook’s hand flies to the area on his head. “if this was a date, why are we here?”

“because you asked to come with to the museum like a dumbass.” jimin rolled his eyes. 

jungkook raises a brow. “well if this was a date, why did namjoon insist we come with? and pay for our flight and hotel and stuff?” 

it was jimin’s turn to be doubtful, and he looks over to you who was just listening to the conversation. the two wait for you for confirmation.

“don’t look at me. i don’t know why he asked too.” you shrug. 

it was true. namjoon did ask you to a date trip in paris. he literally labeled it a date so you were a bit confused when he told you to bring some friends. 

the three of you stand in silence after, quietly admiring the artworks in the room. 

a few minutes later, namjoon comes back with paper bags in hand. he guided you to sit at one of the stoned backless benches in the middle of the room. jimin and jungkook continues the tour on their own.

he brings out a box of sneakers, beige ones that complement your nude outfit. he also brings out bandages for your feet. he starts to kneel down in front of you and you scramble to pull him up. 

“no, no. i can do it myself.” you argue, making namjoon stop mid-air. 

he chuckles and that damned dimpled smile comes out. “can you just let me do this for you?” he raises his brows and you sigh. 

“fine.” you back down and he proceeds kneel down. 

he began putting bandages on the areas you needed. he asks you if you needed more and you shake your head.

“well, would you look at that? it’s a perfect fit.” namjoon says when your foot slips in the sneakers. you smile, looking down at the beautiful man in front of you. he slips the other one in and does the shoelaces. 

when he was done, he pats your foot and stands up. “why don’t you take a walk and see, cinderella?”

you giggle. you giggle like a school girl and stand up. the sneakers were far more comfortable than your heels as you walk. “they’re perfect, thank you.”

namjoon nods. “anything for you, babe.”

the rest of the trip flows easily. jimin and jungkook chose to be away from the two of you after the museum and namjoon brings you to a restaurant for dinner. two days later, you were heading back to korea.

namjoon sits beside you in first class and you were having a glass of champagne.

“thank you.” you start, fingers playing with your glass. “for this date trip, really.”

namjoon bites his lower lip and nods. “thank you too.”

“i just have one question, though.” you tilt your head to the side and purse your lips.

“yeah, what is it?” namjoon replies.

“why bring jimin and jungkook if this was a date?” you look over by the middle section of first class where jungkook and jimin were probably fast asleep. you wouldn’t know because there were privacy dividers. but you were definitely sure because of how hard they partied last night and how wrecked they’ve come back to the hotel.

“well, a little birdy told me something about you and flights.” namjoon explains and you were at a loss for words. how did he know about your fear of flying? was it seokjin?

“remember what i said?” namjoon speaks again, and you furrow your brows at the sudden question.

“what exactly?”

“when you told me why you and yoongi got a divorce.” you freeze. that was months ago. why was he bringing it up now?

“oh. that.” he was talking about how he thinks yoongi still loves you.

“i told you it was just intuition because i didn’t have proof.”

you take a sip of your drink and set it down again. “okay… then why are you bringing it up now?”

“because i have one now.” he fishes something from the inside of his jacket and you follow his hands with your eyes.

he hands you a white envelope. you warily accept it and observe it with your keen eyes. “what’s this?” it doesn’t look special but whatever it is, it had a relation to yoongi.

“it’s a letter. i want you to read it when we land home.” namjoon states the obvious.

“i had a really fun time, y/n. thank you.” he gives you his dimpled smile again. this time, there was no denying the hint of sadness in them.

whatever that was, it sounded like a goodbye.

namjoon suddenly changes the topic, whisking you away from the loud thoughts. you quickly hide the envelope in your pocket. you had a feeling that you want to give namjoon all your attention right now.

the flight back consisted of sleeping, talking, eating, and laughing with namjoon.

you both undeniably had a great time and you wouldn’t exchange the experience with anyone.

“so, this is it.” namjoon says as the both of you stand in front of the airport, staring at the streets where it is raining.

“thank you, joon. paris was a dream with you.” you say genuinely.

he gives you a genuine smile this time, nodding once in acknowledgement.

“but it would’ve been perfect if we kissed.” you blurt out.

namjoon grins and shakes his head. he steps closer and places a hand on your face. your lips met and they move softly against each other. his lips were soft, but a little bit on the rough side. the smell of his faint perfume, the cold skin from the airconditioned airport, the curve of his dimple in your hands, and the tingling feeling in your chest, it was all giving a different kind of warmth from the kisses you had in your life time.

he releases you not long after, looking at you longingly.

he steps back again, widening the space between the two of you back to how it was before. “that was perfect.” he says and chuckles. you nod, “yeah. it was.”

“well, i’ll see you around, y/n.”

“you will.”

now that was, for sure, a goodbye.

back home, the paper on your hand suddenly feels heavy and you were anxious to see what’s inside. but curiosity overpowers the anxiety and you open the envelope to see the letter containing it. 

the folded paper you bring out had a ‘for your eyes only, kim’, written on the corner. your eyes widen. the writing was too familiar for you not to know who this letter is from. 

mr. kim namjoon,

before i start with anything, first, i want to say congratulations on the relationship. well, i’m not happy for you but it’d be rude to say that. second, i’m sorry if my writing turns sloppy. i pondered doing this in email but it didn’t felt heartfelt enough. now that i think about it, i think the last letter i’ve written like this was to my parents after being forced in high school in one of those stupid english homeworks. so again, sorry if it’s bad. maybe i should’ve written y/n one of these letters, i guess that’s just another mistake i have to regret. but enough about me, this letter is about her. 

i know that we’re not the best of pals, and i swear that i’m not doing this for you. i’m doing this for her. i may not be in the position to be this demanding but all i want for her now is to be in good and better hands. i need you to be that person now that you have her. 

the first time i saw her wearing our ring, it was the turning point of my life. after that, she was every day of my life. and i took it for granted. i didn’t hold her the way she needed to be held. i didn’t look her like i should. 

so now that you’re about to be her everyday—her person. i only ask you to hear these things that may be helpful. i may not be a good lover but i was an okay husband. i didn’t love her right but i still knew her and took care of her for four years. 

she likes iced coffee in the morning from a very specific shop but if you make one for her, it’ll be her favorite because it’s you. she used to like it with lots of milk but strong caffeine. on nights she stays up for work, she prefers warm tea. lots of it. have it ready in a pot beside her. she loves midnight cookies too. the chewy ones. 

when she has her period, buy her chocolates. not the fruity ones. she prefers the dark chocolates but won’t say no to milky ones. she doesn’t like white chocolates. nuts are okay too. no raisins. she hates raisins whenever and wherever you put it. 

she loves spicy food but it will make her sneeze a lot after. she’s a bit allergic to shellfish, especially shrimps but she will still eat them because she’s stubborn. please always have medicine in stock. 

she likes shopping for new dresses when there’s an occasion but loves it if you come with her and help her choose. you have to react really well. but you don’t really have to try because she’ll look good even with a garbage bag anyway. she’s very meticulous about clothes too. one faulty sewing and she’ll see that.

she doesn’t like people who chew loudly or talk with their mouths full. i don’t think anyone does anyway.

she watches the same movies over and over again but she will cry over it as hard as she did last time. she doesn’t like when people talk too much on movie night but that doesn’t mean you don’t react at the scenes. if it was a horror movie and she seemed a bit freaked out at the end, leave a dim light open when you sleep. let her hung to you when you sleep too. 

when she has to fly out of the country for work, if you can’t go with her, make sure jungkook is there. she won’t admit it but she still gets scared when flying alone even if her secretary’s with her. it has to be someone she trusts.

she loves when you smell good. so choose your perfume well. 

remind her of her keys or wallet because she keeps forgetting them. when you ask her to buy something, you have to tell her at least three times. don’t just say it like “oh hey can you buy me this when you go out?”, she won’t remember it. 

she shits a lot. her metabolism is amazing, really. 

she makes a face when you say she’s beautiful. sometimes, she even glares. but still, tell her she’s beautiful. because she will. she thinks and says you’re more beautiful than anyone else. 

she loves more than anyone and she deserves to be loved more. even if you look through her eyes and see someone else, she will still love you endlessly. she loves so pure like an amateur magician, even if everyone else can see the trap door, she continues her show with a smile. 

when she loves you, her plans don’t matter as much. because when she loves you, you are her plan. so you have to remind her to make plans for herself too. don’t make her drop everything for you.

when she loves you, even if you don’t give her what she gives you, she will still love you. even if she searches all the corners of the earth just so she can find a bench that fits the two of you perfectly, she will. she would make jokes that make you laugh when you’re down. she would stay up all night learning a recipe if you say you want that dish.

these are just some of the things you have to keep in mind. but really, it doesn’t matter. because when she loves, she gives it her all. it’s not hard to fall in love with her. there’s no doubt about it. 

i used to think that loving should be passionate and overflowing. now i realize that love shouldn’t be burning, it should be just warm. the kind of warmth that a thick blanket gives you in winter. the warmth that a newly baked chocolate chip cookie offers you when you get home tired. the kind that gives you comfort, never hurting you. so, i ask you to give her more than what she gives. love her like she’s home. 

it may be too late for me but not for her. she deserves to be loved more than yesterday, but less than tomorrow. please continue to love her. more than i do. more than anyone else. 

min yoongi.

the thing is, the heart doesn’t have a specific size. it isn’t only filled with one person. yoongi has been receiving all your love and he began filling it with you. after yuna’s and his closure at the university, yoongi knew what he had to do. 

the drive back to his house after yuna’s talk in the university was fast. he called up taehyung as soon as he got home.

“i need you to get me kim namjoon’s address.” he orders before taehyung could even greet him. 

“hello to you too, sir. his personal address, sir? that’s kind of unethical.” taehyung teased. he ignores his secretary although he had a point. 

“i don’t give a fuck, tae. get to work.” with that, he ends the call. he admits it was a little bit rude but whatever. he needs his address. 

after preparing everything, yoongi sees taehyung had texted him the address an hour ago. he grabs a coat from his closet and heads off. 

he was greeted by maids when he arrived and ruined the doorbell button with his unending pressing. they allowed him through the gate but didn’t let him through the doors of the house. he was asked to wait by the small garden in front of the house

the exterior of namjoon’s home was very modern and green, trees and plants surrounding it. you probably loved the different kinds of plants here. the flowers too. yoongi never cared about these things. 

yoongi is rarely nervous. 

but here he stands in front of a closed door, palms sweating. he hoped the paper in his right hand isn’t affected by it.

the letter. 

he hears a ding inside and the lock of the door click, indicating that it’s gone unlocked. he braces himself for the person coming out.

it’s now or never. 

yoongi was shaken awake by the sound of his doorbell being rang multiple times and there was unending banging on his door. he realizes that he his friends has a knack of being waking him in the middle of the night when the country is in deep sleep.

god, who and what is it now? he thinks to himself. 

yoongi pushes himself off the bed and heads to his door. barely even having his eyes open, he peeks at who was at the door on his security camera. 

he was pretty sure he was dreaming right now with what he’s seeing.

he was pretty sure because that couldn’t be you, drenched in what seemed to be rain. your hair was sticking to your face and you look you had been somewhere before this. 

he scrambles to open the door, now seeing you in the flesh. your brows were furrowed together and your cheeks were puffed. your face wasn’t just wet from rain, you had been crying. 

before he could even ask what you were doing here or even just speak, you throw something in his direction which he caught and clutched to his chest. he looks down and sees a familiar paper in his hand. 

“w-what–”

“what’s this?” her voice was laced with venom, beautiful but incredibly pissed. 

yoongi sighed. “you weren’t supposed to see this.” 

you shake your head, stepping inside and slamming the door behind you. “no, but i did! so you tell me why!”  

“tell you what?” 

“why namjoon?”  

“what do you mean–”

“you told this to namjoon but not me? you pour your heart out to him but not me?” you were no longer yelling. instead, your voice was at the verge of breaking. 

you push him by his chest repeatedly when he doesn’t answer. “what is it? tell me!”

he stops your hands with his, caging your wrists in his grasp. “stop! i’m not sure what you want me to say.” 

you tug your wrists from him and stare at him with fire in your eyes. “i’m asking you to tell me why you couldn’t tell me you wanted me and why. i’m asking you why you push yourself around.” 

“i’m giving you what you said you want. you like namjoon and he deserved you more than me.” yoongi never raises his voice but you could definitely sense the boiling anger in his words. 

you shook your head as the tears in your eyes were too heavy for you to speak immediately. “but what do you want?” 

“you already know the answer to that.” he spat, raising his brows.

“no! i don’t! because all you gave me are a few words. i need you to tell me you want me, you love me, and why you do. you said all that shit to namjoon but not me! can’t you see? i need you to tell me that. how would i know if you don’t tell me? i need to be sure you love me before i take the risk of loving you again!” 

you were out of breath after you screamed out your agony. yoongi could only stare at you with equally burning eyes.

and he pulled you in.

he pushes his lips to yours and held you close like you’d fade away if he lets go. his hand was at the back of your head, holding it firmly but not enough to hurt you. when you kiss back, it was like he could breathe again. like he was being chased by wolves and finally got away. like his world has finally turned at a normal pace because now you were here. 

when he pulls away, you both stand there still holding each other with your cheeks flushed red. “i love you. it’s always been you.” 

then he takes your mouth again, hands now wondering your body like he was sculpting it. 

he pulls away, catching his breath while speaking. “i’m sorry. for everything.” then he presses his lips on your again. you could only focus on how he was here, kissing you like he never had before, like he was communicating with how he invaded all your senses. 

he pulls away again, now foreheads touching each other. “please…” he says with closed eyes. “please love me again. make me yours. i’m all yours.” he kissed you again, making your heart skip a but as you gasped with a throaty sound against his lips. 

he kisses you like he will never have enough, tongue exploring yours and everywhere. his hand moved around your body like it has a mind of its own. 

before you knew it, he had led you to his bedroom and on his bed. he hovered over you as you both make out passionately. 

then he stopped, pulling away to stare at your face beneath him. he smiled. then his tears started dropping on your face. 

“why?” you mutter, placing a hand on his face, attempting to wipe any tears that fall as he fulls on breaks down above you.

“i love you so much.” he cries then buries his head on your neck. “please don’t leave again.” 

your heart broke at yoongi’s plead. you were about to comfort him but you remembered what just happened. you laugh. you throw your head back and laugh. “stop crying, yoongs.” 

he lifts his head and stares at you in the eyes like he was offended that you took delight in his misery.

“did you realize we just had our first fight?” and you give him a grin.

he looked a bit confused then he gets it, pulling you in a kiss again. 

and the two of you lay there, making love until the morning.

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you.

blipped: before the snap (preview)

title: blipped: before the snap pairing: brother’s best friend!yoongi x female reader genre: major angst !!, fluff, brother’s best friend au, unrequited love, set in the marvel cinematic universe (mcu), slow burn?, implied age gap, heavy themes, the blip is kinda fucked up if u think abt it, brother!namjoon, bestfriend!taehyung warnings: manipulative and abusive mom, family issues, y/n has a careless one night stand, no smut for this part yet, this part is a bit boring i'm really sorry. word count: 19k (bruh,,) teaser word count: 695

At the age of 21, you confessed your feelings to your brother’s best friend, Yoongi, which he rejected. One day later, Thanos snapped, turning fifty percent of the world population to dust, leaving the other half lost, confused, and mourning–including you. Five years later, Bruce Banner snapped everyone back to life, including Yoongi, who doesn’t really know you anymore.

a/n before i wrote it: it’s okay to read this if you aren’t into the marvel movies. i just think that the concept of the blip is a really interesting (very traumatic and sad) topic for civilians. imagine the adjustment of your loved ones disappearing and then they just come back. a/n after i wrote it: holy shit i thought this was a fun idea but this is just pure devastation writing about the blip is no fun at all. so i'm not really happy with this one but it's looooong overdue so fck it i'll just post it and get it over with.

release date: October 30, 2022 playlist: blipped.

𓆩♡𓆪 want to be tagged to all my works or a specific one? 𓆩♡𓆪  : ̗̀➛ fill up this form here: taglist request form.

Silence filled the air for a few minutes. It’s always like this with Yoongi. Silence, comfort, and safety. It was never quiet with you. Not in your life. But whenever Yoongi come into it, it became quiet. He has made you feel at peace. He has made you feel warm.

The warmth he offered sometimes hurt, you admit. But it was not his fault. You are greedy. You want more of the warmth than what he can offer. But you would take this hurt everyday than go back to the chaos and noise that you have known before him. And tonight, you feel you can allow yourself to be more greedy.

“Do I look pretty tonight?” The words come out of your mouth before you even think. The beating heart in your chest seemed to want to run away from your brain with how fast it went.

“What?” Yoongi undoubtedly found the question unusual as you have never asked him questions like this. You weren’t one to worry about your appearance. They know that you’re definitely insecure about a myriad of things but you refrain from letting people know about it. Indulging the people you care about your problems is just not you.

“I’m asking you if you think I’m attractive.” You repeat, cheeks blushing and eyes set in the other direction. Where you’re getting your confidence right now, you’re not sure where.

“Tsk.” He cocks his head and began to remove his jacket. “You are attractive.”

“No.” Your hands are now by your stomach, fiddling and playing together. “I’m asking if you think I’m attractive.”

There was a pause in the air for a few seconds. It seemed like he was thinking. “Come here.”

When your eyes lift up, you find him offering his jacket to you. He was holding it by its shoulder part, the back facing him and ready for you to slide your arms into the empty sleeves. A black long sleeve shirt was left on him, complementing his growing ebony hair that was reaching the back of his neck. He was yet to get a haircut and you’re thankful for that.

“My arms are gonna die, get in.” He pleads and you comply. You’re disappointed he doesn’t answer the question but you decide not to press into it further due to sudden embarrassment.

You step in and turned around, sliding your right arm first and then your left. You fix the jacket on you as you look straight ahead the empty sidewalk. This was his favorite one. The black one adorned with white details of dragons on the chest and the sleeves.

“Put your hand in the right pocket.” He instructs and you did. You feel something box-like and fish it out of the garment.

It was a rectangular black velvet box not bigger than your palm. “Wha–”

“It’s your present.” He interrupts your confused reaction.

Inside the box was a gold necklace with a pendant not bigger than half an inch. It resembled a butterfly. The wings were carved by horizontal lines but was connected to four tiny diamonds on each wing’s inner part.

“Is this real?” You ask, eyes squinting at the necklace now in your hand.

“Are you saying I’m cheap? Of course, it is. I had my friend from work get it. That’s where I stopped by before going in.” He answers and takes the necklace from you from the back.

Before you knew it, his arms were in your peripheral vision, ready to put the necklace on you. He clasps it around your neck and you feel the cold pendant on your hand, admiring it.

Cold hands turn you around by the shoulders, making you face him.

“You look beautiful.”

And he smiles. His hands are still on your shoulders, literally making him an arm length from you. The smile on his face is the cutest you have ever seen. It’s toothless and his cheeks more fluffier than ever. The way his eyes sparkled competed with the street lights and the present stars the night sky above the two of you.

He looked so beautiful.

You’re so fucked.

You’re irrevocably in love with Min Yoongi.

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you.

ೃ⁀➷ levisolace's masterlist ♡

series expendable hearts (levi x f!reader) status: on going house of cards (chishiya shuntarou x f!reader) (aib) status: complete

drabbles it'll pass. (levi x gn!reader)

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only in my ao3 account. thank you.

---

𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽

➺ Character: Levi Ackerman.

➺ Reader: afab!reader

➺ Words: 8 316

➺ Summary: Levi Ackerman. Duke Ackerman. A mysterious, stern man who never strays from the straight and narrow, whether by choice or because of his hectic schedule, no one knows and no one wants to know, because this social season, they say, he's planning to take a wife. To your best parade ladies, the most coveted bachelor is finally available…

➺ Warning: Misogyny. Women are seen as reproducers. It's not a smut, but it's tendentious.

➺ A/n: I've watched so much Queen Charlotte and Bridgertone that I wanted to write something in that kind of historical universe. Haha… that ties in with my love of historical manhwa. English is not my first language. Sorry for the mistakes.

"Are you ready for the new social season, Ackerman?

Slumped against the comfortable back of the imposing office chair, the principal concerned didn't even bother to look up from his documents. Not out of concentration but to avoid being confronted with the irritating sight of that shit-eating, mocking smile on his friend's lips. His hand, holding a quill, continued to scratch the paper, drowning the sheet under the jet-haired man's beautiful cursive handwriting. He was doing all he could to divert his attention from the noisy, annoying ramblings of this over-talkative individual who doesn't know when to stop talking. The social season was far from his first and he hoped it would be his last. To take a respectable wife and finally be rid of the target that all the carnivorous mothers were staring at behind his back.

"Levi Ackerman. The most coveted bachelor since Duke Smith was taken off the marital market. Smith has found himself a charming little wife who fills him with happiness. And who will you find to warm your cold heart and sour mood? Will you have a sweet little loving wife? Maybe you'll have a carbon copy of yourself, which I wouldn't wish on any of the servants in your homes. Putting up with you alone is enough, so a woman like you…" "Hange, if you've got nothing better to do, get the hell out of my house." "Aw Ackerman, you're so rude! I'm sick to my stomach."

Levi looked up briefly from his documents to shoot a bored glance at the person in front of his desk who was feigning a deep wound in his heart. He snorted in disdain before diving back into his urgent business, all the while continuing to ignore Hange's mocking and playful monologue. He didn't need to be reminded of the social seasons. He still remembered perfectly how many people gathered around him at every ball he had the misfortune to attend. At the time, Erwin Smith was also single, which eased some of the pressure from mothers eager to find a good match for their daughters. But now he was married, forcing Levi to face the demons alone in the elegant clothes of a noblewoman called mother. Worst of all, rumour had it that he was planning to take a wife. It wasn't a lie; he intended to declare his intentions and take the hand of a young woman who would meet his standards, which he was forced to lower in the hope of finding someone. However, this rumour would fuel the ambition of these mothers. He could already see himself in a ballroom, unable to take a single step without being interrupted by one of them. Levi could bet his hand that the person behind the rumour was standing right in front of him.

"Erwin was lucky to find someone who makes his heart beat. If I don't rule out love, it's the last thing that's going to enter into my calculations. I need a duchess. A woman who can host and organise receptions and welcome foreign dignitaries. I need someone who can manage high society and the heritage of our estates while giving birth to my children. She must have the shoulders and spirit to handle the duties of a duchess. She must have the dignity and poise that comes with the title." "You are demanding." Hange sighed, in a melancholy breath. "I have to be. I can't accept just anyone as Duchess and you know that. Erwin was very lucky. One in a million. Who knows if I could be so lucky as to find in the most capable of women the one I would love." "Good. You're so serious about this that I can't not lend you a hand." "Please. I don't need your help which is too often useless and catastrophic. Not to mention shitty." "Trust me! The Queen has already chosen her diamond, the girl who shines above the rest. I happen to know her personally." "Don't say it like it's some revolutionary idea. There was nothing more predictable than being interested in the diamond of the season. A girl who is all too often chosen for her beauty rather than her skills. A factor I have no interest in." "You're depressing Ackerman." Hange complains, her upper body slumped over the paper-free part of the desk.

Levi clicks his tongue against his palate, now having to endure the sighs and complaints of this individual lounging on his wooden desk that is surely worth more than a small estate in the heart of the capital. He makes a mental note to himself to thoroughly clean the wooden surface to remove any germs that Hange might leave on his wonderful desk.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Lady [Name]. Miss [Name]. What a pleasure it is to welcome you to our land. I hope British soil suits your tastes." "It is an honour, Your Majesty. We thank you for your hospitality." "Isn't there someone missing? Don't you have two daughters?" Asks the Queen, one eyebrow arched. "My apologies, Your Majesty, my sister could not bear the journey on the ship. She was forced to stay in bed while her illness subsided." You say.

Along with your mother, you bow to Her Majesty the Queen of England. There is no doubt that this woman is of a completely different class to the ladies of the nobility. The Queen is the most noble. The one to whom all eyes naturally turn. You can't help but let your eyes take in the sumptuous details of the lace covering Her Majesty the Queen's dress. A puffed-up dress that breaks with the current trend for empire dresses. Why didn't she follow the current fashion? Wasn't it a silent obligation of society not to step out of line at the risk of being singled out for criticism and harsh words by other nobles? You have abandoned the clothes of your native country to blend in with current British fashion, but you feel a touch of admiration before Her Majesty the Queen. Perhaps you could persuade your mother to let you proudly wear the dresses of your homeland?

"Come, come, come! We have so much to talk about. We'll soon be one big, beautiful family." "I hope so too, Your Majesty." Your mother affirms, with a discreet, unruffled smile.

With that, you follow in the Queen's rapid and ample footsteps. How can she be so comfortable in clothes that seem so uncomfortable? It's probably a question of habit. A few steps behind her, you try to keep up with the rapid pace through the magnificent corridors decorated with gilding and sculptures that you know are worth more than anything the less fortunate could dream of. On the walls hang paintings depicting the royal couple's life together. When they are young, then soon joined by a multitude of toddlers until these children take on the appearance of young adults. A chronological frieze that tells the story of a hidden family history.

There's nothing like that in your family. There's just a register that takes into account the many members of your clan. Only the hard core share the ancestral domain, while the others are invited every year for a week to maintain a certain union between all the members of your clan. And you… you're the chief's goddaughter. Daughter of the chief's sister. After the chief's daughter, you are the most noble thing in your country. The purest. If your cousin is promised to the prince of your kingdom, you… Are you going to join the jewels of the British Empire? That is a perfectly acceptable future. But are you prepared to give up your family? Your country? The life you've built there? To leave to start a new life with a man whose company you're not sure you'd enjoy?

For a moment, this sumptuous palace looks like a cage. Your future cage.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Miss [Name], what's your country like? I'm genuinely curious about the different regions." The princess's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. "At the risk of committing an act of treason on your soil, I admit that our landscapes have nothing to envy to those of British soil. I would even go so far as to say that they are splendid. I think you'd like it very much."

The princess lets a soft laugh slip from her lips, which she hastens to hide behind her fan. You squint your eyes in delight. The princess doesn't seem to be offended by this little joke; she seems to be enjoying it. You take a sip of the tea you were served a few minutes ago.

Several days have passed since your arrival. You still haven't met the prince who may become your fiancé, but you won't regret not having met him yet. You dread this moment. If you do meet him, it will all become too real for you. These imaginary chains of commitment will be physically represented by a sumptuous ring on your left ring finger. The very thought makes your stomach boil with palpable discomfort. Fortunately, you've been lucky enough to meet a charming princess your own age. Historia Reiss. A soul so sweet and pure that you could swear you'd want to protect her just so she wouldn't encounter any unpleasantness in her life. You could almost find comfort in her presence should you end up marrying one of the princes.

"The first ball of the season will be held at Lord and Lady Yeager's house. Would you be comfortable? I don't know how different the culture of your country is from here." "Don't worry, your highness. I used to attend quite a few balls in my country, along with my cousins. We never missed an opportunity to socialise. We were an inseparable trio…" "You seem very close to your family." "I grew up with them. I can't conceive of a life without them in my life." "With so many brothers and sisters, I can only understand you. Sometimes they're unbearable but in the end, I wouldn't give them up for anything in the world."

The atmosphere becomes heavy with nostalgia. Memories of numerous family events come back to haunt you and add to the weight on your shoulders. The same dilemma seems to be facing the princess, who is also due to marry in the not too distant future. She too will have to leave her family, perhaps even her homeland, to marry a powerful nobleman from another nation in order to forge ties. Because that's what women are for: to produce heirs and to act as bargaining chips in the political game. Knowing and accepting are two different things. You know your destiny, but can you accept it? Are you even being asked to accept it? No. You are asked to suffer and endure.

The princess coughed in a feeble attempt to lighten the almost ceremonial mood.

"If you wish, I can teach you a few things for your first ball here. I don't doubt your social skills, far from it! But the culture here must still be foreign to you…" "Thank you, Your Highness, it is with pleasure that I accept your kind offer."

A smile curves your lips. The afternoon is spent talking about the little subtleties of the English court, which you find so lacking. Little protocols, little messages coded behind the tilt of your fan. The language of the fan is different from that of your country. She also teaches you the latest rumours so that you don't feel too out of place, even if you don't really know the protagonists portrayed in her rumours. It would seem, however, that this kingdom is particularly fond of such gossip. Time passed at an alarming rate and before you knew it it was time to part. The sun was about to set. You both had to get ready for the dinner that was about to begin.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The evening of the first ball of the season has finally arrived. As expected, as soon as Duke Ackerman arrived, all the mothers with ambition presented themselves to him, their daughters in tow. He didn't hear any family names, all he heard was the roar of lionesses hungry for prestige or the pecking of hens. He almost cursed Erwin for abandoning him to indulge in his newlywed life. While he was genuinely happy for his friend, Levi couldn't help but curse him in this situation. A duke still single…a real dawn to behold. He excused himself briefly with a shake of his head, ignoring the sighs of disappointment, and extricated himself from the flock of ladies to join Hange, who was standing in the company of Erwin and his young wife.

He almost regretted having come to keep them company when he was forced to listen to Hange's mocking laughter, which seemed to find the Duke's distress satisfying in every way. If looks could kill, Hange would already be six feet under rotting and being eaten by worms. Too bad that's not possible.

"I can't wait to find someone nice so I can get away from all this excitement for good." Levi grumbled, his lips against the rim of his champagne glass. "You talk more than you act. If you keep running away, you won't know any of these girls and you'll end up another season on your own. A real vicious circle." Hange scoffs. "I'm not running away. I'm running away from this savage horde." Retorts the man concerned. "She's not wrong. You'll never find anyone at this rate." Erwin agrees, shaking his head. "Even Smith says so." Hange boasts. "Oh…I always thought you two would end up married. You're always together…" Lady Smith intervenes in a timid voice, unsure whether to say the words or not.

The other three turned to her. Erwin gently shook his head and calmly explained the situation. Hange couldn't help laughing as if she'd just heard the most hilarious joke, while Levi frowned, not holding back the visible disgust he felt at the very idea of having to share his life more than he already did with this individual. A friendly relationship could be tolerated, but more? Ah, God save him from this dark fate!

"My apologies! I always thought…" "Don't worry, my dear." Erwin said to soothe her. "It's common knowledge in the various circles of high society. Your relationship is a trending topic at every turn." Informs Lady Smith, a nervous smile on her lips. "Please don't say another word about it." Begs Levi, who swears a glass of champagne isn't strong enough to hear that kind of story about him. He needs stronger alcohol.

Fortunately for the Duke, the music ends, replaced immediately by the powerful melody of trumpets, a harbinger of the arrival of the one everyone is waiting for: Her Majesty the Queen of England. The big doors open, revealing the royal figure in her sublime gown of thick ivory with a few touches of blue. The guard at the door announced the Queen's arrival in a firm voice. Then other names were called: that of Princess Historia Reiss. Then the Countess [Name] and her daughter.

All bowed to Her Majesty the Queen, before rising to gaze at the two newcomers to the British court: mother and daughter [Name]. Two foreigners whose features stand out from the rest of the nobility. A refined exoticism that is sure to catch the eye of even the most self-righteous duke. Recognising beauty in the unknown is right up his street. But perhaps his gaze lingered a little too long on the young miss descending the stairs, as Hange tapped him on the side of the elbow. A single glance was enough for him to see the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Don't think about it, four eyes."

Hange shrugged, before pushing him forward, encouraging him to take a step towards the quartet who had finally set foot on the ballroom floor. Levi stumbled on his feet, managing to catch himself in time before hitting the floor. A movement that didn't seem to go unnoticed, on the contrary. He felt the weight of Her Majesty The Queen's gaze, which had just spotted him in the crowd. He refrains from swearing between his teeth, cursing the day Hange was born. With a perfect bow, he presented himself to Her Majesty, without bothering to smile. No one has ever seen him smile, he is thought to be incapable of it.

"Duke Ackerman, what a pleasure it is to honour us with your presence." The Queen begins. "The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty." "Have you already met our guests, Lady [Name] and Miss [Name]?" "I have not had that honour before today."

The Duke analysed the curve of the Queen's smile, then followed the discreet movement of her eyes towards the young miss in silent command. Levi wrinkled his nose briefly, so as not to break his legendary impassivity and reveal his displeasure at his situation. But perhaps he could have picked a worse partner than a young miss who had just arrived on English soil and who certainly didn't know the latest gossip. He walked around The Queen, his strides guiding him to a respectable distance from the foreign miss, his hand outstretched towards her. His steely eyes gazed into hers, taking in the minute details in her irises. The brilliance of the crystals on the ballroom chandelier was reflected in her eyes, as if a whole galaxy had taken refuge in her.

"Miss [Name], would you do me the honour of a dance?"

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

You smooth down the silk of your dress, which covers your body in a beautifully crafted adornment. You feel uncomfortable in this dress, not so much from the corset as from the layers of this empire dress. You weren't sure whether there was too much fabric or not enough. Your breasts, contoured by the corset, bulge out for all to see. Your eyes can't take your eyes off this display of flesh, which now seemed so unseemly just a few seconds before your entrance. A gentle pressure on your arm rouses you from your obvious discomfort. The princess stands beside you in a pleasant attempt to help you overcome the demons of anxiety. You offer her a gentle smile, thanking her for her kindness.

The double doors open to reveal the bright lights coming from the candles, especially the giant chandelier suspended above the couples of motionless dancers, facing you. All this attention is directed at you. Suddenly, all that nervousness evaporates like snow in the sun. The feeling of being the eye-catching jewel takes you back to the wonderful days when you and your two cousins dominated your country's high society. Your body remembers the small, graceful gestures and discreet, charming smiles of a noble lady. Why were you nervous again? You couldn't remember, but the delight of returning to balls and luxury made you feel like a fish in water.

Behind the Queen, you watch the Duke's silhouette approach you. A very handsome man, the orange glow of the candles emphasising the chiselled, severe features of his face. He doesn't stand out for his height, but the way his expensive suit clings to his muscles, the shadows discreetly emphasise the contours of his sculpted body. You hold your breath as he approaches you. Blimey, you've completely forgotten to follow the discussion that's just taken place. Has he caught you looking at him in the most shameful way possible? To your surprise, he invites you to join him in a dance. You slip your hand into his, a pleasant shiver caressing your spine as he traps your hand between his fingers, drawing you onto the dance floor. You feel his second hand slide down your side to rest on your hip, the perfect place to keep from being indecent. His warmth embraces you with a gentle sensation. It's so different to when you're being held by your cousin for a dance, it's different…because you're in the presence of a man and not a family member you grew up with. A breath slips from your lips as you feel his fingers tighten their grip on your hip. That simple touch electrifies your nerves. Your eyes gaze into his, searching for his soul for a brief moment. Perhaps it's simply because he's a man… the first man to hold you. Maybe it's because you can feel the firmness of his muscles under his suit.

The music begins, echoing throughout the room. You dance together, following the silent instructions of his body against yours. Around you other couples join in, but in all honesty you're not really paying attention.

"So…you're the most coveted bachelor of the season?" You ask to start a conversation with your dance partner. "I see you've been made aware of the latest rumours." The Duke resigns himself, his features hardened by the despair of his situation.

You can't help but let a laugh escape you at your dance partner's visible dissatisfaction. It would seem that this is a subject that puts him in an uncomfortable situation.

"The princess seemed well to inform me of the latest intriguing news at court so that I should not find myself out of place." "Do you intend to stay until the end of the season or will you be staying on British soil?" "It's a huge upheaval to change countries for good. But I'm beginning to discover the attractions of the British Empire." You reply, your gaze firmly anchored in his.

He opens his lips briefly, like a fish out of water. Then he turns in on himself, becoming once again the cold, stern duke, inflexible in his expressions if only for the tiny expressions that make him human and not a marble statue.

"The princess is a charming person who never fails to brighten my days. Her ladies-in-waiting, though I don't really know them, seem to me to be perfectly benevolent ladies."

The drawing music threatened to end the song. Soon you will have to part with this man whose surname and title you know only. A beauty like that won't struggle to find a wife before the season is over.

"I want to know you more, Your Grace."

No sooner do these words leave your lips than the music stops. The surprised expression on your dance partner's face reflects your own surprise. Tact has never been your strong point according to your twin sister, and today you have just confirmed what you have denied all your life. Are you really going to…propose getting to know another man? When you may end up betrothed to a prince if the discussions between your mother and the Queen come to an agreement.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

Levi didn't know what to expect when he asked her to dance, or what the queen might be thinking. This damsel had not crossed oceans to come here with the intention of seeing some scenery. Everyone could sense that a royal wedding was approaching. The union between two great and powerful families that would make every nobleman in their homeland tremble. Yet he had to restrain his hand from slipping lower on her hip to feel the curves under her dress that must remain inaccessible to him forever. It wasn't love at first sight, he didn't believe in it and the very concept seemed delirious and implausible. Nevertheless, he recognised the principle of attraction. And the young woman in front of him was one of the few to arouse in him the first shivers of desire. But she was out of reach. She would soon be joining the crown jewels. He was not going to jeopardise this young woman's fine future plans, just as he was not going to ruin the excellent reputation he had built up by staying away from brothels and opera singers looking for stability and finance in the arms of rich men.

The conversation was very casual, nothing interesting, just banal politeness. Despite the tingling in his fingers when his ears were graced by her laughter. He hated the fact that this stupid rumour, although true, was brought to the attention of his dance partner. But unlike the many other suitors, she had no intention of putting a target on his back, as a better partner was presenting herself. She could be a breath of fresh air, if only for a moment. Was it wrong to enjoy this dance? To enjoy this company even for a few minutes? One dance before returning to their respective worlds. Or so he thought, until the words left her lips.

"I want to know you more, Your Grace."

Like a mirror, their surprise was reflected in each other's faces. Those words shouldn't have been spoken, not to a stranger and not to someone you know. Those words imply a lot of things, especially with a woman who was perhaps going to join the crown. He shouldn't accept, he couldn't accept. Perhaps his answer, his refusal, was visible in his eyes, for he needed no words to make her more embarrassed than she already was. Under his hands, he could feel the heat radiating from this body that wanted to bend over and disappear six feet under to save herself the embarrassment. He could feel the movement of her muscles, he could feel her holding back from rushing away and abandoning him on the dance floor, causing a scandal. She held back to avoid causing trouble for him as much as for herself. In the shame of rejection, she knew how to behave and curb her urges to save face. A quality… if it could be described that way.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I beg you to forget what just happened."

She bowed in a curtsy, signalling the end of their dance. He returned the courtesy. And before he knew it, he was with his friends, a glass in his hand to quench his thirst. His gaze lost in the sparkling bubbles of the alcoholic beverage.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Why did fate seem so set against you? The ball was only a day old and yet you bumped into the man you swore you'd never see again for the sake of your pride. He also seemed taken aback, your eyes unable to tear themselves away from each other. You look away and concentrate on the young woman standing beside Lord Ackerman. She seems to be beaming with delight, ready to pounce on you for questioning or…examination. You feel the need to cover yourself with more than a dress and a thin shawl against the breeze.

"Oh, look at the sun; already so low in the sky. I'll be off, Ackerman! It's every gentleman's duty to keep such a charming damsel as the young miss company!"

Left in utter bewilderment, you bat your eyelashes at the spectacle, unsure of how to deal with the hasty departure of the brown-haired woman already far away from you both. Silently, you arch an eyebrow at Levi, as if to confirm that what has just happened really did happen.

"You…you're in the queen's gardens." "I am." Levi retorts.

Silence.

This is so uncomfortable, even for you. You decide to take your leave. A meticulously and swiftly executed curtsy, then you make your way back to the palace and hide under the covers of your bed to forget this second shame. You need to regain your composure. Shame doesn't kill, you've faced worse than this in your country! A man a little more handsome than the average is not going to make you forget your means. As you try to convince yourself mentally, you are slow to notice the footsteps at your back, until a hand wraps around your wrist. A gasp escapes your lips, and your body quickly turns towards the person who dares to touch you. You come face to face with the Duke. So close. Almost as close as when you were dancing. You blink, fighting against the honour you would lose if you were caught alone this close to a man, or the desire to feel that hand slide up your arm and lodge itself in the hollow of your neck.

"Your Grace…" You whisper. "I beg you to let me go. This is unseemly." You manage to stay firm on your feet, pushing deep into your mind that strange feeling that runs through you every time this man lays a finger on you. "I apologise. No matter how many times I called you, you didn't seem to be able to hear me."

With that, he releases your wrist, taking several steps away from you. A perfectly respectable distance. Your wrist still seemed to be burning from the Duke's touch. An exquisite warmth. Before you can sink any deeper into your thoughts, his voice brings you back to reality.

"I am also on my way to the palace. Allow me to accompany you."

Even now you're wondering what went through your head to accept the proposal of a man you can neither know nor approach for the sake of your mother's discussions. No… It was only a courtesy, there was no implication. It's ridiculous to worry so much about a man you only met a day ago. It's because he's so beautiful that you lose your nerve! It's only attraction, nothing more can come from this beauty. The journey continues in silence. Honestly, you don't know whether you prefer silence or a conversation filled with banality to fill the void. On reflection, however, the Duke seems to revel in the quiet, preferring words when absolutely necessary. In this respect, he reminds you of your twin sister, who thrives on silence and useful conversation. A smile lights up your face, shy and as light as the cherry blossoms that fall from their tree when the season ends.

"Was that Miss Zoe?" You ask, annoyed at more silence. "Your ability to learn all the latest society gossip both fascinates and frightens me. you'll make a fine lady of British society." Levi sighed, admitting defeat at your ability to inform yourself on such matters just days after arriving on the soil of the Kingdom of England. "You flatter me, Your Grace. But I am not. Your person intrigues every person in this company. Almost every rumour revolves around you." "I intrigue you too, it would seem." "Don't give yourself too much credit, Your Grace." You reply with a hint of mischief in your voice. Teasing your interlocutor. "You are the prologue to a great book called High Society in the British Empire." "Oh, but it's when you read the prologue that you decide to continue reading a book. Are you going to continue reading this book, miss?" He snarls, his steely eyes darting into yours in defiance. "I don't know. I haven't read the whole prologue to be able to decide." You reply with a satisfied smile.

Your smile widens as you hear the Duke chuckle. If you didn't listen carefully, it would be easy to miss his laughter. A soft warmth spreads through your chest, satisfied that for a moment you have been able to break the cold, unruffled expression. Once outside the glass doors leading to one of the palace's too many halls, your companion stops in his tracks. This is it. The time has come for you to part. There's no need to exchange any more words, just a glance at each other and you already know that you mustn't stay together any longer than that. So you do what your mind tells you rather than the tug of disappointment of interrupting a beautiful discussion. You go your separate ways until fate allows you to see each other again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The weeks went by. Invitations to the ball, invitations to tea, days spent with Princess Historia and sometimes, exceptionally, you have the honour of sharing a conversation with the Queen. You never got even a glimpse of the prince who might become part of your future. Nothing was official yet, but wasn't it the least you could do to come and see one of the women who was going to share his life? The Prince shone through his absence from the palace, but rumours spread quickly, even among a young miss who was still new to British society. You've heard the rumours: the Prince favours an opera singer. He flaunts her publicly with no regard for his honour. Historia was trying to protect you, but at the same time she refused to hide her brother's imperfections from you, especially if you were to marry him. This is how you discovered that he had fathered two little bastards whom he was trying to have recognised by his mother so that they could become princes with a right of succession.

Disgusting.

Was this the future fate that awaited you? Waiting for your twin sister? Sharing a life with a man who shows the world his mistress? Unable to do so discreetly like most other nobles.

That should be your main concern, yet you can't help thinking of the duke who shares a few conversations with you when you find yourselves at the same ball. You always shared a dance under your mother's watchful eye. She said nothing, did nothing to prevent you from getting involved with other men. Perhaps she thought, as you did, that it was just a friendly relationship that was developing? Perhaps you were the only one to convince yourself of this lie when you wanted to feel the Duke's hands on your hips. Were you alone in feeling that desire boiling in your chest? Yet here you were, once again, sharing a fleeting moment of happiness that was to end as soon as the ball was over. On the balcony of the manor house, surrounded by a few souls looking for refreshment, you were chatting with the Duke. Lost in your admiration of the thin smile that lit up the Duke's stern face, at this moment he looked divinely peaceful.

"Come now, Your Grace, these are not noble words to say in public, and not in front of a woman either." You murmur, stifling your mirth behind your fan. "Are you the best person to speak of noble words? I remember the last ball…" He replies, teasing you. "Your Grace, you promised never to speak of that again!" You react immediately, urging him with a wave of your hand to lower the volume of his voice in the hope that no one will hear him. "I didn't…I simply mentioned the last ball. Where have I sinned?" "You are impertinent." "Oh, Miss [Name], impertinence is a sin."

You roll your eyes as your lips make contact with your glass of champagne, taking light sips to avoid repeating the same mistakes you made at the previous ball. Even now you regret drinking a little too quickly with so little food in your stomach, the result wasn't bad enough to damage your reputation in the eyes of society but… The Duke witnessed a lot of…freedom on your part.

"Your Grace." A woman's voice breaks the comfortable silence that has just settled.

You both turn towards the woman who has come forward with three daughters on her arms. Ah… A mother has just spotted him, causing the other mothers to come to him with that simple word. You offer a compassionate smile mixed with a touch of mockery as you leave him in the hungry hands of the mothers and daughters. Swallowing the bitter taste of frustration at the very idea that a woman will have the honour of becoming Lady Ackerman. The wife of such a good and kind man… while you…

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you return to the quarters you have been given for the time of your stay here, your mother is standing on the sofa in the bedroom. She closes the book and puts it down again in a terribly slow gesture. You lick your lips, suddenly nervous about what she might be telling you. There was always that imperturbable smile on your mother's face, but you knew her better than anyone. The slight wrinkle of her nose could only mean one thing: she wasn't satisfied with something. Did the discussions between her and Her Majesty The Queen go badly? You can only imagine the worst.

You take your place at your mother's side, your hands gripping hers in an attempt to comfort her or yourself. You're not sure. The impatience was going to kill you, yet she continued to remain silent. She seemed almost about to give up on telling you.

"Mother, what's the matter?" "[Your name]…I must say I should be pleased, yet I can't seem to rejoice."

You swallow your saliva with difficulty. Your fingers tighten around your mother's hands. Her fingers caress the backs of your hands in a circular motion, a gentle massage to try and soothe your raw nerves. But it brings no comfort.

"They agree to the marriage…" It wasn't a question. You let the phrase leave your lips in a silent breath. "Yes. They accept the union between our two families." "I see…" You fail to express more than those two words. "They did not specify the name. If a man caught your eye…" "No, no one caught my eye, I would marry the prince." "Are you sure, my dear child?" "Quite sure." "You still have a few weeks to think about it."

Your mother places a kiss on your forehead, leaving you alone in your room to consider the implications further. It's no longer just about you and your selfish desires. It's about the future of your family.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Miss [Name], it is an honour to meet you." "The pleasure is mine, your royal highness."

Those words stick in your throat, barely holding back the bitterness of disgust as the prince's lips brush the back of your hand. Lips that have whispered words of love to another. That have kissed the lips of another. And unlike other men, he never hid the fact that he had a mistress. Why do women have to be pure and chaste until they get married, while men do unspeakable things to 'enjoy' their youth before they tie the noose around their own necks? Why does she have to put up with the shame of a future husband who is incapable of controlling himself? Why does she have to put up with the way the prince looks at her?

For the family.

For your family, you will smile politely at the Prince, get to know him and pretend not to be repulsed by his touch. You will turn a blind eye to his actions and accept that he defiles your body with his sinful touch. For the sake of your family. For the sake of your twin sister, you will endure and accept this marriage. You know that your sister is in no state to put up with such a situation for years to come. But are you?

That tea to get to know you was as dull and miserable as the Prince's personality. He didn't want this marriage either, and he showed it shamelessly by hinting at his relationship with this opera singer. You couldn't dislike this woman. She is looking to survive, a prince is an excellent match and a protection against the harshness of everyday life for the less fortunate. You hated the prince. He is the one who initiated this relationship and who brings shame on Her Majesty The Queen and the entire royal family.

But for the sake of your family, you will turn a blind eye to this deplorable moment. You will smile at your mother's questions about your compatibility with the Prince.

"You are as beautiful as they say. Had I known sooner, I want you to know that I would have hastened from my royal duties to come and meet you." "You flatter me your royal highness. But I would be sad if you had to hasten your duties as prince to come and keep me company." You reply in the kindest tone you can muster. "You are right, after all, we could well spend the rest of our lives together."

A shiver of horror runs down your spine. Spend your life with him… for eternity. An infinitely long time. A life away from your land and your family to start one with this individual who is supposed to embody the best that the kingdom of England has to offer. But here again, you force a smile onto your face and offer a shy laugh like a sweet young damsel too modest to imagine making a life with a prince.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

How many days since this woman had approached him? She had expressed a desire to get to know him, she had persisted in talking to him despite her situation, and little by little she had dug into the abrupt façade he had built for himself as duke. And here she was, categorically refusing to stand in front of him or give him the slightest glance as she held her prince's hand and let him slide his hand lower than he should during a dance. He had always known how this story would end: badly. Despite all the warnings and dangers that his conversations with her continued to entail, Levi had found himself enjoying her company. Those moments of laughter when she momentarily forgot all about propriety. Those moments when the stars twinkled in her pupils and always fascinated him. Those moments of peace when even the most unhelpful discussions became distractions for him, even though he hates talking in vain.

This woman had forced her way into his life, only to leave as quickly as she had entered. He was angry with her. He blamed himself for having let her do it when he knew full well that a foreigner would not cross the oceans without the intention of marrying a prince.

Yet the sight of her unhappy eyes, of her thin, peaceful smile that can't deceive him… Levi hates having to be a mere witness to her fatal fate. A splendid woman with a mind and heart of gold married to a pathetic excuse for a prince. He hates how his chest boils with dull anger at the sight of this extraordinary woman trapped in invisible chains pulled by adults to gain power. For the sake of these two great families, she will sacrifice herself and accept a miserable marriage. A condemnation to torture for eternity.

But what business is it of the Duke's? None at all. He shouldn't interfere. He should be content to continue his search for a future duchess. Oh… But had he even begun his search? He didn't have the slightest recollection of having really been looking for anyone during this entire social season. For a moment, the face of that terribly annoying woman appeared in his mind. It was her again. Always her. Always [First name] [Last name].

He needed air. Immediately.

The wind hits his face as he sinks into the depths of his hosts' garden. Luckily for him, he's a man, so he's able to walk freely without his honour being called into question. And even if it wasn't, at the moment, he couldn't give a damn about his honour. His rational mind is fighting with his heart, which has decided to awaken a conscience of its own.

It's always that woman's fault.

If only she hadn't come into his life, everything would have been resolved by now. He'd already have a fiancée. He would have settled into a comfortable life far removed from the problems of being a single duke.

A creak drew him out of his thoughts. Someone was in the garden with him. Who would go this far into the gloom if it wasn't another man who was also trying to get away from greedy mothers? No… It wasn't another man, his breath catching in his throat as he laid eyes on the female figure who was the target of his internal battle.

"Miss [Name], are you unconscious? You mustn't be here alone, you're in big trouble." He tries to whisper despite his desire to scold her for such inconsiderate conduct. She was lucky to run into him and no one else, but no other noble soul should see them at the risk of causing a huge scandal.

Yet the harsh, reproving words he was about to say to her disappeared like snow in the sun. His eyes went wide as he witnessed the wet marks on the reddened cheeks of the young woman, who nevertheless had only a smile on her lips, true or false. She is crying. Alone. In the half-light of a garden. Breathing hieratically as if she has just escaped from something… or someone.

"Your Grace. Le…Levi."

A shiver caressed his body as his first name slipped from the miss’s moist lips. A name barely louder than a whisper, yet he could still hear it echoing in his mind. The sensation far surpassed his wildest thoughts. He didn't react until it was too late, when she let herself run straight into his arms. Buried against the hollow of his collarbone, she sobbed her pain, hoping for comfort. He could only guess. What was he supposed to do? Should he embrace her and risk being seen to sully the impeccable reputation of a future princess? Should he push her away and force her to go discreetly to a safer place where she would no longer fear anything? His hands clenched into a fist, he forced himself to stand still. He chose neither of the two options open to him. He couldn't go any further, just as he didn't have the strength to push her away.

"Miss [Name]. You shouldn't do that. It's dangerous." "I don't care!" "…You will soon be joining the crown jewels. I believe that soon your engagement will be announced. You must not risk ruining your future." "I have no future with such a man! You know that…you must have heard the rumours."

Who hasn't? Everyone had heard them. The prince had done everything he could to make sure the whole kingdom knew about his mistress and the two bastards he had fathered with her. He knew deep down that she would not have a bright future. But he also knew that this current situation, even if it didn't affect her, would inevitably lead her to a much more shameful and painful end than marrying an adulterous prince. At least she would have the luxury and comfort of a peaceful and secure life.

"Stand aside." He orders as firmly as he can. "Then do it." She provokes him. He knows she is trying to make a point. He orders her to step aside to perform a task he cannot. A frown bars the Duke's inexpressive face. "Miss…"

Only a whisper leaves the Duke's lips as he tilts his head to watch the miss against him embrace him as if her life depended on it. He can feel her breasts dancing against his, the layers of clothing separating them doing nothing to soften the sweet sensation of her breasts against his torso. His gaze wanders over the curve of her breasts, bulging from the corset. Enticing. Inviting. Terribly…irresistible.

"I have no future without you, Levi."

His name again. Again her bloody words to seduce him. To make him stray from the straight and narrow path he'd set for himself. He shouldn't destroy his whole life for one woman. He shouldn't…

Yet he surrendered to a kiss. He revels in the surprised moan of the woman who holds his heart in the palm of her hands. He savours with appetite and delight the faint contractions of her muscles against him, an honest and sincere body enjoying the heated kiss. He's going to engulf her. He feels he is capable of ravishing her essence and soul with this kiss, because he wants everything she has to offer. He wants to be able to caress the radiance she embodies with his fingertips.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

His lips glide down your neck, covering every inch of accessible skin with light, velvety kisses. These simple little touches electrify your raw nerves. Your hands grasp his shoulders, in the faint hope of supporting you as your legs buckle under your own weight. You feel his kisses linger on your sweet spot, a moan slips from your lips but you can't hold it in. The petticoats of your dress lift as the Duke's hands roam over your bare thighs to find your crotch clad in fabric so thin he can feel the moisture seeping through. You collapse under the weight of the new sensations of ecstasy. Pleasure seeps into every pore of your body.

"L-Levi."

His name has become an unholy prayer. A sacred mantra that keeps your mind from slipping into the depths of this new ecstasy. His fingers encircle this sensitive little bud, caressing you through the fabric, actively working to introduce you to a new world. His lips cover yours in an instant, silencing your unholy moans from echoing too loudly in the darkness of the garden.

"[First name]…you are the bane of my existence. You are my dearest sin."

Never mind if you get caught…right now, only the two of you matter.

dreaming boy

title: dreaming boy pairing: nonbinary!jimin x nonbinary!reader (afab) ; namjoon x reader genre: fluff, angst others: adapted from a poem from sarah kay entitled "dreaming boy", college au, masc oc and femme jimin, they still use gendered terms and pronouns voluntarily (he for jimin and she for reader), wc: 5.8k warnings: mature themes, gender confusion, awful judgemental people, implied sex (fairly sfw), tackles gender labels, one girl is completely out of it and pushes herself to reader but nothing happens disclaimer: this work is purely fiction. it does not wish to change jimin's real gender identity, whatever it may be. if i ever wrote something in this that may seem offensive or uneducated, please do feel free to tell me about it. i know that gender and sexuality has many grey areas and i do not wish to offend anyone. note: this is an edited and reposted version of a story i wrote from my old blog. you can find the post here. summary: ever since you were old enough to have boobs, all the people around you already caged you in a label you don't feel particularly attached to. with how you talk, walk, and dress, everyone just assumed that you are. so, you try and search a label for yourself but fail miserably. that is, until jimin comes along and shows you labels are just there to cage you.

In most of the dreams you remember from childhood, you were a boy.

Mudded knees and heels, you would raise your fist up high. The maiden in the tower, thankful as you rescued her. She would hug you and you would feel content. But it was not the maiden that made you feel that way. You know this because, in other dreams you had, you were not rescuing someone in particular. You were just a boy. Definitely a boy. No maidens that needed saving but it excited you.

Dreaming seemed to be not enough. You want to live that excitement when the sun rises too. So when you reached middle school, while the other girls wore skirts and pretty tops that some were already starting to fill out with their gorgeous body shapes,  you walked the halls with your oversized shirts and snapbacks, hiding whatever feminine shapes you would grow to have. With the hell that is school and the abundance of unneeded stares and gossip from people you know, the scraps from all the people in that middle school have already labeled you with a word. “Lesbian,” they said. That’s what you are. Though, you never confirmed it to anyone, for it is not a word that you feel connected to at all when you sneaked into the computer room of your middle school to google search what it meant. Girls are pretty, sure. You can see yourself falling in love with them, but really, you don't even know what falling in love really meant. But to be associated with the word just doesn’t seem right.

You wondered if you can dream yourself a gender. One that’s only yours. One that makes sense to you. 

That word hung to you in high school.

While the popular kids’ girls would look at you in disgust and discomfort like you were immediately attracted to them just with one glance, a guy actually tried to kiss you at one party during junior year in high school. Most of you were fairly drunk, being newly introduced to alcohol. It was a classic game of seven in minutes in heaven and the other boys in class rudely commented to “Just compare dicks or something, I guess.” when they locked you in the room.

He was so nice and tall. He asked you if you really liked girls. And you shook your head. “I don’t know,” you said.

His dimples were cute and he was pretty smart too. He was a lowkey kind of dude called Namjoon. He says he actually never had his first kiss and before you stopped your words, they came out of your mouth like a cannonball. 

“Do you want to kiss?”

His eyes widened and asked if you were sure. A part of you liked him and thought he was cute enough to be your first kiss. But also a hidden part of you is doing this to prove that word wrong. He smiled and showed you his dimple cheeks and leaned in. When your lips touch, to your surprise, you actually liked it. Your heart fluttered and butterflies flew in your stomach. So the next day, you still wore your oversized shirt but lost your snapback and let down your beautiful long hair. The next day after that, you walked the halls hand in hand with Namjoon, surprising everyone who starred and gossiped about you.

You dreamt of the ocean for weeks, never in control of your limbs.

He made you feel special. He would write you notes and put them in your locker. In your first month together, he got you a cute charm bracelet. And every month, he added a charm. You liked Namjoon. You really did. Eventually, you stopped hearing the word. And it didn’t bother you anymore. Next to Namjoon, you were a convincing enough girl. You still liked your sneakers and your oversized shirts, but sometimes you would trade your pants for simple jean shorts that would show your pretty, long legs. He said he liked them and you liked that. People seemed to think that you were now a girl and somehow you are convinced too. At least, when you were awake.

At night, you were Batman. At night, a fireman. At night, a boy with muscles in boy places, a firm hand, and a direction to run.

And so, the excitement was gone and once again it felt wrong.

Namjoon felt wrong. And he sensed that too so you cried on his chest that night in his room. You were frustrated with yourself. So was the word that was thrust to you right after all? You thought. Namjoon hugged you that night and you know he was holding back his tears. He wished for you to figure things out soon and promised he will be there for you. Senior year, you were still friends with Namjoon and still hung out with him but people around you quickly picked up that you were no longer in a relationship. Some say you finally realized your true sexuality but more are just convinced you broke up on your own terms. Namjoon didn’t really care about what they were saying about you and him. Maybe that’s why you like him so much. So you stuck by his side until you graduated high school and he let you.

It may not have worked, but at least a friendship was formed. He listens but still... no one really understood you or related to you.

College came by and you were welcomed by different kinds of people.

Suddenly, everyone is no longer just gossiping scraps from the popular kids table. Everyone is discovering themselves in their own kind of way. Well, people still talk, but not really to bully. Talk is all people are really gonna do, you settled with yourself. By that time, it didn’t bother you anymore; even without Namjoon by your side. With his top-notch brain, Namjoon got into a top medical university. You, on the other hand, studied Engineering and ended up in a pretty decent university an hour away. Despite that, you still kept in touch. Still, studies are a mess and the both of you were distracted enough to only text or meet each other a few times a month.

Parties are a mess too, you learned. Frat parties are the worst. Everyone is either making out, grinding with one another, getting drunk, or getting high. Exploring. That’s what everyone said they’re doing. Being newly adults, everyone is eager to try things they haven’t before. And so were you.

That’s where you met Momo. She was a sorority girl who attended the frat party you came to one Friday night. She had this beautiful dark hair and eyes that lured you in. The both of you grinded on the dance floor and felt each other’s bodies.

She was the very first girl you kissed.

It was nice but... you didn’t like it as much as with Namjoon. Maybe it was the way your faces melted into each other. Maybe it was the way your mind searched for stubble or the hard jaw or the cinnamon scent. You couldn’t breathe through all her lilac perfume. And so that ended on the dance floor.

That night, you dreamt of being lost in the forest, of a terrible tidal wave.

If you were not a “lesbian,” what possible explanation do you have? What words could you tie around this treacherous heart, the impossible hunger, your miserable mind?

Three college parties later and you were back again with your friends, a red cup in your hand filled with mixed alcohol that your friend gave you. You have tried to kiss multiple boys and girls after that, desperate to find an answer for yourself. Soon, you just gave up, settling that you were fine with making out and fucking a few guys here and there but never getting into a relationship with them.

Until he came along.

You were dancing with your intoxicated friends on the dance floor when you laid your eyes on him. He strutted into that party with his pink hair and striped purple sweater like he owned the place. From a group of people behind you, you heard someone say, “Oh, he’s definitely gay.”

That was a confusion you recognize.

You found out that he was good at dancing, great, even. He wowed everyone on the dance floor and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You then began to stare at him the whole night. Like an eagle eyeing its prey. He was so sure of himself, so forgiving, so gentle but at the same time so confident. You were intrigued.

And so since college is all about exploring, you wanted him to explore you too.

At the next party, you made it a mission to be close to him. You made your way beside him when he was getting himself a drink before maybe heading to the dance floor to show everyone how it should be once again. You got a clean cup while he was pouring in his and you began to talk.

“You here to grace us with your dancing again?” You smirk and stretch your right hand to get the bottle of vodka a bit far from his left. Your chest bumped with the right side of his upper body and your face was mere inches away from each other. Your eyes stared at his and you can clearly see the way his cheeks tinted pink because of the interaction. It was cute how he found your subtle but obvious flirting gesture enough to be flustered. When your hands clasped the bottle, you stared for a few more seconds and then moved away.

It was when you pour the drink into your cup that he snaps back to reality.

“Well?” you ask.

“U-uhh. Yeah. I guess.”

You nod. “I’ll go and watch when you do, pinky," you nicknamed him, referring to his prettily dyed hair.

And just a few minutes after, you see him already making his way to where everyone was dancing. His body moved gracefully as he danced to that one famous girl group song. It felt like the walls were leaning close to him when he danced, everyone watched in awe and cheered. When he was done, everyone applauded him and his friends fist bumped, hugged, and pushed him in excitement. Then he stayed on the dance floor and danced with everybody else.

You learned from your friends that he was a dancing major. They never really heard of him dating so they weren’t sure where you would lie with him. But he looked pretty interested earlier. And now, as he stared you down while he was swaying to the beat of the DJ.

You walked over to him through the bodies that were grinding against you. When you reached him, he smirked. “Did that live up to your expectations?” You grinned and brought your face closer to his. “That was even better, baby boy.” And you danced with each other the whole night.

When you wasted the night away and the party was about to go down, you asked him if he wanted to go home with you, clearly making hints of sex.

He gave you a cute smile and nodded. “Sure,” he said. You weren't expecting him to agree.

When you reached your place, you made him sit on your bed and he looked at all your posters of rock bands, anime, and Marvel superheroes in the room. You also had a few of your Funko Pop collections displayed on the shelf, the rest were safe at home.

“Do you like Marvel movies?” You asked. He nodded. “I do. My favorite is Captain America.” You nod and pull up your downloaded Captain America: The Winter Soldier from your hard drive of illegally downloaded movies. You set down your laptop in the middle and watched side by side on the bed.

15 minutes into the movie later, you placed your hand on top of his and caressed it. He made the next move to hold it and you continued to caress it with your thumb. If you two started the movie with space in between, there was none of it now but the warmth of your body heat next to each other.

You look away from the laptop screen and look at him, your faces merely inches away from each other.

He looked at you with expecting eyes, pretty and glistening. He was so pretty that you decided to make the first move and kissed him.

The kiss was soft. It was nice. Better than Namjoon’s. He had the missing piece you were always looking for but you could never point out what it is out. When you pushed the kiss deeper and placed your hand against his ribcage to push him down. He pulled away and removed your hand from his. He looked at you with lust but sincerity in his eyes.

“Can we take it slow?” He asked.

You nodded and went back to sitting down. Suddenly, you felt like a fourteen-year-old trying to get a bra strap off. You watched the movie in silence but still held hands. He didn’t find it awkward like you kind of did since you still feel a tiny pang of embarrassment when you tried to deepen the kiss, wondering if you miscalculated things.

Maybe he wasn’t interested in you that way. Maybe he just wanted to be friends.

He spent the night anyway and you lay next to each other breathing, the tiny bed leaving your hand inches away from his boxer shorts twitching under the covers. You do your best not to touch him in any way.

The morning light has slipped into your room when you wake up. He was still sound asleep beside you, curled up against you while you hugged him from behind. You remember the events from last night and can’t help but cringe a little. Unfortunately, you had a makeup Saturday class in less than an hour because your professor had a conflict with his schedule during the weekday and you hoped he would wake up before you leave. He didn’t though. So you left him a note, a glass of water, and medicine for a hangover if ever he had one.

When you got back in the afternoon, you found that your bed was made. The clothes on the floor were cleaned up and tossed into the used bin. You were always kind of messy and you weren’t proud of that. You found that a few of your clean clothes were folded as well. You felt a tug in your heart at the small gesture.

Hours later, he texted you. You gave him your number on the note and told him to save it and you were so glad he did.

Thank you for last night xx — This is Chim! 💜

You giggled at the little nickname he got for himself and the purple heart emoji he put right beside it.

You’re welcome, Jimin. Thank you for kinda fixing up my room. Sorry I’m such a mess. You didn’t have to do that.

Nonsense. It was the least I can do when you let me stay the night babe.

You blushed at the nickname. You then realized that you have it bad and hoped that your tiny crush would go away and not develop into something more.

It didn’t go away.

Jimin and you became two peas in a pod, doing everything together. Sometimes, he would go to your department just so he could eat lunch with you at the university. During parties, you would not leave each other’s side even when some guys (and girls) would try and hook up with you. When you talk to others with the intent of going somewhere that leads to going to a secluded place, you would always find him sulking in the corner somewhere and staring at you. You found it cute and that would lead you back to him.

He does the most random things, you learned.

Out of nowhere, he learned the flute and knocked on your door at 12 in the morning to play it for you. He sang your songs while he played. At that moment, you really wondered if this man fell from heaven.

“Are you a secret angel? Confess now.” You asked him. His voice was so soothing and angelic like his whole personality and face is not enough to convince you that. He chuckled and winked. “Will never tell my secret.”

He also liked picking flowers from where he wasn’t supposed to. Once in a while, he would give you those flowers. Not only you though. He’ll leave a piece outside the door of every room on your floor. He says that everyone deserves a little flower sometimes. And he says it with a piece of flower stuck in his ear.

On your birthday, he surprised you with a triple-layer cake that he baked overnight in your place while you slept. You walked into him in your kitchen trying to ice it. You watched him, with his shirtless torso on display, put the icing into a tube and you thought you have never loved a body the way you loved his at that moment.

“Oh, you’re awake. Happy birthday, darling.” He greets you when he sees you in your oversized shirt and nested hair. You didn’t have pants on but you were comfortable enough to look like that around him. You snapped out of your thoughts on his body when you heard him speak and he gave you one of the best birthdays in your life.

It was another lazy day and you were on the couch with Jimin. He was making you watch a romcom that was his favorite when the doorbell rang. You asked him if he ordered anything because you didn’t and he shook his head. You stood up to answer the door. When you opened the door, a tall, dimpled guy came into view.

“Joonie!” You screamed and jumped at him. He laughed and picked you up from where you jumped and wrapped your legs around him.

“There’s my favorite girl,” Namjoon said and hugged you tight.

When he let you back down, you express your glee. “What the fuck brought you here, man? I fucking missed you.”

You punched his chest lightly. He gasps dramatically and rubs his chest. “Med school is stressing me out lately and my friends told me I should let out some steam so I decided to visit my favorite person that’s only an hour away.” He says.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh. Okay? I’m the only option because you can’t drive?” You tease him.

Namjoon still didn’t have a license so he takes the bus when it is time to go home. He prefers riding his bike and decided that driving cars just wasn’t for him. Besides, he has you to drive him home during the holidays anyway.

“Y/N?” Jimin called from the couch. You noticed he has paused the movie and was now looking at you two, waiting for himself to be acknowledged.

“Oh. I didn’t know you had someone over. I should’ve called but I wanted it to be a surprise.” Namjoon said.

“Hi. I’m Namjoon. I’m Y/N’s best friend-slash-ex-boyfriend.” He introduced himself with what our high school classmates used to call us.

You sighed. “Shut up, Joon. Jimin, this is Joon. Joon, this is Jimin, my friend here in college.” You wondered if a friend is the right term at the moment. It was true though. You didn’t have any labels. Even if you have kissed once or thrice and cuddled more than friends should have.

“Yes, I’m Y/N’s friend.” Jimin says. Namjoon nodded. “Nice to meet you.” Jimin didn’t smile back which was unusual for him. “Nice to meet you too.” 

“You can go and sit down. We’re watching a movie.” You said to Namjoon who handed you something in a paper bag.

“I got you your favorite chocolate croissant and a bottle of cheap wine we could drink.” You accepted it and scoffed.

“Woah, Joon. You’re getting fancy. Are the rich kids in that med school making you like this?” You said and kept the food in the kitchen to eat later.

“Do you guys want some food? We could order out.” You asked the guys sitting on your couch.

“Pizza?” Joon asked and you nodded.

You sat in between them and brought out your phone. You went to the delivery app and picked out the pizza flavor.

“Hawaiian?” Joon asked as he saw you pick out the flavor he knows you don’t like. Jimin loves it though and you just got used to ordering it.

“Yeah.” You say nothing more, afraid that he’ll expose you and that you hate the pineapple on top of it. It’s a good thing he didn’t say more.

“What are we watching, by the way?” Namjoon asks while Jimin still sits there quietly. You look over to Jimin for help. You forgot the title of the film.

“Oh. Uhm. Legally Blonde.” Jimin answered.

Namjoon nodded. “Oh. Nice. Y/N doesn’t really watch romcoms so I got confused for a bit. I guess our little Y/N is kinda changing, huh.” You roll your eyes. “Shut up, Joon.”

The moment the movie ended and your food was finished, Jimin began to gather his things. “I think I need to go. Got things to do.” He says, not looking at you in the eyes. He didn't bother waiting for your response and headed out the door.

“Chim?” You caught his wrist when you followed him just outside your door. He looked back at you and smiled, except, you noticed it was not the same smile he gives you. There was something else underneath it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him. “You told me you were free today. Come and hang out with me and Joon tonight.” You pleaded.

He shook his head and tilted his head up. He pressed his lips together. “Something came up. Besides, I should let you catch up with your best friend, Y/N.” He says and wiggles his wrist out of your hand.

“Woah, woah, man. We’re okay, right? What did I do?” You press him again.

“Don’t worry about it.” He turns around and walks off.

You tilted your head in confusion and felt as if your heart dropped. You didn’t like this feeling. You didn’t like him walking away from you like that. Your brain was telling you to reach out once again, run after him and hug him from behind but your feet stood planted on the ground like a fool not able to follow orders from its master. You couldn’t move as you wondered what was wrong with the special someone you can only call a friend.

The moment you stepped back in your place, you found Namjoon already waiting for you on the couch with his elbow propped up on the backrest of the sofa and his cheek leaning to his palm.

“So when were you gonna tell me about this Jimin that you’re in love with?” He teased.

“Shut up, Joon. I’m not fucking in love with him.” You say as you plopped down on the couch next to him.

“Please, Y/N. You’re so fucking whipped for that dude. You never even considered eating Hawaiian when we hang out even though it’s my favorite and you always get to choose the movie during our marathons.” He pointed it out and you realized he was right but you brushed it off like it was nothing.

“Whatever Joon, people’s tastes can change. Also, you have the worst choices in movies that’s why. Your boring ass would choose a fishing documentary over fucking Kingsman.”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you looked at him. It’s something else.” He pushes once again.

Hours later, the dark filled in the day and the two of you were drinking the wine Joon brought.

And like he predicted, you caved.

“It’s just! How the fuck am I supposed to do this, Joon?! He’s so confusing! One minute, I think he does like me the way I like him, and the next, I feel like he’s gonna push me away in disgust bc I have a fucking coochie! I don’t know anymore, Joon.” You screamed and hit Joon’s lap with your hand repeatedly.

“God, can you not hit me for one second?” He says as he pushes your hand away. You pout and sulked alone on your part of the couch.

“Sorry.” You took a gulp of the cheap wine in your mug. A reminder to yourself that you should get some cheap wine glasses to go along with it next time.

“I’m a mess. Always have been.” You mumble the last part to yourself, but knowing the small apartment and the quiet atmosphere, you were sure Namjoon heard it.

“Hey,” Namjoon scooted closer to you. “You remember that time when we got into 7 minutes in heaven?” He asks you and puts an arm around your shoulder.

You groan. “Not the time to talk about our origin story, Joon.” He tch-ed.

“No, you don’t understand. That’s exactly what you need. A fucking talk. When we were in that silly party game, what did I ask you?” You pause to think.

“You asked me if I really liked girls?” You were unsure of your own words, but not because you don’t remember. It was because you were unsure where the conversation was going. He nods.

“So? Go fucking ask him.”

“You want me to ask him if he likes men?” You repeat him, asking if he's serious.

He nods again and pats your back. You laugh in disbelief. “No fucking way, dude. We’re in too fucking deep to talk about it, I think.”

Namjoon took a sip of his wine. “Are you sure? Or are you just scared of his answer?”

You pause your drinking midway. Obviously, Namjoon got to you.

You understood, though. This man beside you has known your secrets, your thoughts, just with the two years you spent with him. When you were at your peak confusion, he was there to be poured your feelings. He really is your best friend and you loved him because he was so kind and so understanding like this.

“Communication is always difficult, Y/N. We know that. That’s what happened to us, right? We talked things out well and we fixed things. Look at us now, we’re like freaking Batman and Robin.”

And you can’t help to think that he was right. Maybe it was time to talk things down.

“Obviously, I’m Batman.” You say and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

"That you are."

You texted Jimin to meet you at one party in a club next Friday. When you got there, the pink-haired boy was nowhere to be found. You spot one of your mutual friends and you walk over to her.

“Y/N! You fucking hot bitch. Look at you!” She screams as she takes in your look. You wore black cargo pants and a black bralette with a fishnet top over it. From her look, she looks absolutely wrecked already.

“Fuck, Jen. What did you take?” You ask her and she giggled.

“A magician…” She tumbles to your chest and you hold her up “…never tells her secret.”

Her head tilts back and you groan. “Have you seen Jimin?” You ask her.

She giggles again and brings her hands up to her hair and plays with it, tossing it. “Y/N. Fucking kiss me, please. I’m so horny right now. And you’re so hot. You go both ways right?” She brings her body closer to yours and grinds on it.

You sighed and ignored her pleas. “Jen, please. Have you seen Jimin?” You ask once again as you try to keep her feet planted on the ground.

She smiled. “Oh! Chimchim! That little gay man! He’s there with Kookie. I think they were like fucking each other on the dance floor earlier or something.” She points to the dance floor where you do spot the pink-haired boy dancing with an ebony-haired man. You try and ignore the names he called your friend.

Jungkook was a hot photography major. He had long permed hair that fit him well. His right arm had a sleeve tattoo, complimenting his lean but thick muscular body.

And just like that, your heart sunk again.

Jen continued to try and dance her hips to you while you stared at the boy just a few meters away. You looked at him with pain in your eyes. And like he sensed the pair of eyes watching him, his eyes met yours. It widens when he sees your face. So you looked away and brought your attention back to the wasted girl in front of you.

You brought out your phone and booked an Uber to bring the girl home. She was not safe in this atmosphere at all. Jen began to plant kisses on your cheek, which you really didn’t mind. She was usually a clingy girl. You worried that someone else might take it the wrong way.

As soon as you brought back Jen to her place, she slept like a log on her bed. The club was only 15 minutes away and you still wanted to go back to talk to Jimin. You hoped he was still there.

And he wasn’t.

Your heart sunk. Did he go home with Jungkook? Did he lay the boy you love on his bed? Did he kiss him and did he place his hands on that beautiful body of his? Did Jimin accept him? Did he not push his hand away and tell him to take it slow? Will he let himself be the small spoon in his arms tonight?

You drank yourself to waste in that club. Hiding in a corner with one of your friends who tried to talk to you but you shrugged them off and they let you drink by yourself and only watched you. When you felt like you had enough before you cannot physically go home, you bid them goodbye.

Before completely going home, you let yourself sober up alone. You sat on one of the swings in a park and let your thoughts consume you. It wasn’t until someone was nudging you awake that you realized that you dozed off. A man who looked to be in a security guard uniform told you you should go home because it’s late at night. You quickly said your sorry and stood up.'

You dreadily walked back to your apartment. It felt like when you get home, all you can think about is how he smelt on your bed. How he smiled against your hold under the sheets. How sometimes, he would face you and slip his head to your neck and you could feel how he breathes in sync with yours.

But what you find against your locked door isn’t something you expect to see.

There was the pink haired boy you love so much. Sitting on the ground and his face is buried on his knees.

“J-jimin?” You stuttered, not believing your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” He lifts his head and reveals his red and swollen eyes. Tears fell from his face. You fell to your knees in front of him at the sight of him crying. You hugged him tight.

“What the fuck happened? Did Jungkook do this to you?” You asked, anger seeping through you. How dare anyone make your angel cry?

He didn’t answer and it didn’t look like he would answer. So your next move was not to press further and make him rest. You guided him to your bed and lay him there. He stopped crying but never stopped staring at you as you readied yourself to bed. While you removed your make-up and changed your clothes to an oversized shirt and panties, he only stared at you.

“Y/N?”

He stared at you with glossy and tired eyes. His face was all fluffy and swollen from crying.

“Can you please hold me to sleep?”

And so you did.

When you wake up, Jimin is sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing you. You sat up and he sensed your movement, turning back around. “Good morning.” You say and he gave you a smile so little you almost felt like you hallucinated it.

“Can you tell me what happened now?” You ask him. He shook his head. “It’s not Jungkook. Nothing happened.” He assures you and you furrow your brows together. “Then why?”

He didn’t answer. The silence weighed down on you. It felt like now or never.

You placed a hand on top of his that laid flat on the bed.

“Jimin.” He stared at the hand on top of his then back at your eyes.

“Do you want to date boys?”

You held your breath for a long, quiet moment while he thought of an answer. And when he finally opened his mouth, your heart was ready to fall to the ground.

“I haven’t met one that I’d like to date yet.” He answers you.

So he did like boys. You thought to yourself as you feel your hand unconsciously slip away on top of his.

But he caught it just before it made its way back to your side.

His eyes teared up again.

“And right now, I’m pretty in love with you, if that’s okay.”

He said and held your hand and kissed it.

You teared up as well at the confession. You smiled so wide and let the tears pour out like a waterfall.

Jimin buried his face in your hand that he was holding. “Please.”

He begs. “Please tell me you didn’t go home with Jen that night. Please don’t tell me the reason you came home so late was because you held her in your arms.”

And suddenly everything made sense.

He was crying at your door because of you. You cried for him for the same reason he cried for you. And you thought, How dumb we are, Jimin? What useless lovesick fools are you we?

You shake your head. “I am only ever in love with you, Jimin. You’re my angel.” And you brought his face up to yours and kissed him like the gift he is from heaven.

With Jimin, you did not crave the language you always thought you needed. With Jimin, just loving is okay. And it didn’t have to matter what anyone would say. Love is in its purest form when it’s with Jimin. He didn’t feel like the last puzzle piece that would complete you, the one you’ve been looking for your whole life to give you the answer. With Jimin, you didn’t feel like a big question mark. It felt like you’ve always been whole. And you are. Always have been.

And just like that, a hand reached backwards into a faraway dream and said, “come on then, we’ve got a maiden to save.”

You guess what you’re saying is that Jimin makes you feel like a boy, like the boy you’ve always been. At night, you climb trees and wear cargo shorts. You steal buildings and build fires. When you are awake, you are curled around his back, the happiest big spoon in the drawer. He is naked and heavy-breathing, the man you love.

You hold his body like the gift it is, and safely sink back into dreams.

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