Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Jealous is the night when the morning comes.

But it always comes."

Delta Rae - Morning Comes

VII

Jeongguk’s palms are sweating. Which is weird because he doesn’t even have to do anything except sit there and look pretty. At least that’s what Seokjin told him beforehand. Smile and wave, boys, smile and wave.

He’s seated between Hoseok and Taehyung, Jimin and Seokjin at the other end of the long table, Yoongi and Namjoon in the middle. The room is positively crammed with cameras, flashes going off so often it might as well be the natural state of lightness. Jeongguk is beginning to understand why strobe lights can cause seizures.

They haven’t even been gone that long. Though, he can admit, it felt both much too short and eternal at the same time. A vacation. It was meant to let them recuperate from the stress of the past years, but right now Jeongguk feels like his skin has worn thin. Two months and breathing got a little harder the moment he stepped out onto the small stage. 

Maybe it’s just because it’s reporters instead of fans. There is no excited screaming, no exuberant I love you shouted in-between. One of the journalists had blushed and ducked her head when Jeongguk caught her eye, but other than that she remained professional. In a way, he appreciates it, but he thinks it would be much easier if their first public appearance after the break were a concert. He could lose himself in the performance then, let himself be hypnotized by the swaying lights of the ARMY bombs.

Instead, this. BigHit had announced the press conference two weeks ago, nothing unusual as such, apart from the fact that there was no information whatsoever on what it would be about.

Bangtan, obviously, but nothing more than that.

Of course Jeongguk has seen the speculations online. The more sensible assume this is about their new album or something similar. A big collaboration. A BTS theme park. A feature-length film about the HYYH ‘verse. Something that makes sense after the documentaries and the video games and the stuffed animals. Others - fans terribly anxious, haters absolutely gleeful - believe it must be the announcement of their disbandment. Or, at the very least, the start of their military service. 

And that would come, eventually, Jeongguk knows that much. But not today. Today is reserved for something even bigger. Something potentially dangerous.

He glances to his left where Hoseok is nervously toying with the necklace that rests against his collarbone. To the right, where Taehyung is sitting prim like a bird on a branch, looking around with wide eyes.

Inexplicably, Namjoon and Yoongi look rather more relaxed. Yoongi has already downed half of his water and is clicking his fingernails against the tabletop, but then Namjoon sends him a reassuring glance and he seems okay again. Namjoon looks like he always does at these things, debonair and wholly in his element. Kim Namjoon for President, Jeongguk remembers and cannot help but agree.

“Members of the press, thank you for joining us today,” Namjoon begins as though he were opening some sort of cabinet meeting. “We are glad to see so many of you here today and to know that our return has been highly anticipated. We thank you and all our fans for your patience. Our vacation has given the members time to catch our breath and enjoy life in a way that we previously didn’t much get the chance to. So today, we want to talk about some of what has happened while we were out of the public eye.”

They had previously made an agreement to not post anything at all on their shared accounts. To let Twitter be Twitter and just act like normal guys who maybe didn’t need to broadcast their entire lives online.

Jimin had caved within the first week, posting a cute selca of him at the beach in Busan, the sunset at his back, expensive shades perched on his nose. Seokjin had retaliated with a parody of that picture and a pun to go with it. And from then on, it had dissolved into a mess, Taehyung uploading pictures of Yeontan and another dog he met during a walk. Hoseok uploaded a genuine Hope on the Streets clip, and Jeongguk had his mother take a picture of the back of his head, hair tied into a tiny bun. The latter, Jeongguk was proud to see, had gotten the most notifications so far. 

He’s got his fingers in his hair now, twirling a strand around his pinky, gently pulling at his scalp as he waits for Namjoon to get to the heart of the matter. After all, it’s not like they had called in the press to give them minute descriptions of their past seven weeks.

“The truth is that our announcement today does not directly concern all of the members,” Namjoon continues smoothly. Underneath the table, his leg is bouncing. Maybe he is just as nervous at the rest of them. “In fact, what we want to share with you is something very personal."

Immediately, all of the reporters seem to be paying even more attention, if that is even possible. The cameras are desperately angled to catch every single member’s reaction, every tiny twitch on their faces.

They must be tasting blood now, and for good reason. A dating reveal? News of a member leaving? No one has ever managed to get real dirt on any of them, not the kind that some other idols seem to be accumulating. Bangtan are not infallible, but mostly pristine. So for them to come out and make a big deal of whatever news they have means something.

“There’s really no easy way to say this, so I guess we’ll just rip off the bandaid,” Namjoon says. His hand reaches for Yoongi’s, settles on top of it. There is something very casual and yet monumental about the gesture. He and Yoongi exchange a long look, captured by the cameras.

Then Yoongi leans forward, closer to his microphone.

“Namjoon and I have been in love for nine years,” he says.

It’s a bit of an exaggeration, Jeongguk knows. After all, the two had only been living together nine years ago this November. They hadn’t actually been in love right away. At least not quite.

But in retrospect, some things make much more sense than they did back then. Like Jeongguk trying to join them in their tiny studio when they were all trainees and finding it locked, no one responding to his texts and insistent knocking. He wasn’t sure what his hyung were doing inside but now he has some ideas.

And it’s good. It’s fine. He is happy for them. 

Right now, though, Jeongguk kind of feels like he might hurl, like there is something stuck in his throat, trying to get out. But he keeps his features schooled, not wanting to be accused of any sort of misgivings about this. Smile and wave. It’s the least he can do for his hyungs.

The journalists, as one, erupt into chaos, albeit a rather polite one. People are on the edge of their seats, some have jumped up, making the others follow. Questions are being shouted, so many they are barely intelligible.

“Is this true?” someone asks, in adjacence to someone else’s, “Is this a joke?”

The questions blur into a buzz of noise that reminds Jeongguk of an insect.

didthecompanyknowaboutthisdidthemembersknowareyousayingyouarehomosexualwhathasinfluencedthisdecisionwillthisnotthreatenyourcareerdoyouthinkyourfanswillstillsupportyou

Jeongguk is afraid of getting stung.

“Please,” Namjoon says, lifting the hand that is not still intertwined with Yoongi’s. Magically, most of the noise quietens down. “I know you have a lot of questions, but that was actually just the first half of what we meant to say.”

Another look exchanged with Yoongi, one that starts with a muted smile and then turns radiant. From this angle, Jeongguk can see the mismatched rings on their fingers, dully glinting in the lights.

“Yoongi-hyung and I have been dating for a long time,” Namjoon confirms, in case anyone might still doubt it. “And two months ago, we got married.”

Chapter Text

VI

Seokjin sighs as he closes the door, plastic bag clutched tightly in his hand after an impromptu ice cream run. Technically, they should all start returning to their diets and training regiment, but he figures they all need something sweet right now.

He slips out of his shoes and out of his jacket before making his way out of the small hallway into the living area. Music is spilling out from underneath Jeongguk’s door, interspersed with voices, and Seokjin suspects that the maknae are having a miniature party. In a bit, he would go knock and surprise them with the ice cream, cementing his standing as Best Hyung Ever.

It’s been a long day but it’s good to come home to the dorm when it is fully populated. As the only one whose parents live in Seoul, Seokjin had spent a fair amount of his vacation in their dorm. He hadn’t really traveled outside of Korea, considering how much of his life was already wasted on planes, instead preferring to visit friends and family in other cities. 

And it had been been good. He’d gone fishing and to the movies, he ate a lot and cooked with his brother and went shopping with his mother and spent one hilarious evening getting absolutely trashed with his father. He had slept in every single day and sang loudly and pleasantly off-key in the shower and deliberately forgot every single dance step he ever knew.

And then, when he had done all those things a couple of times, he was bored and lonely and wanted the others to come back.

So it’s nice to walk into the kitchen and find Namjoon sitting at the island, nursing what looks like a cup of tea; a healthy choice, but Seokjin knows their leader.

“Ice cream?” he asks, pulling three tubs of it out of the plastic bag and lining them up on the counter: chocolate, strawberry, green tea.

“God, yes, I need sugar,” Namjoon sighs, sitting up a little straighter and twisting his head from left to right to relax his vertebrae.

“And here I was under the impression you already got some Suga,” Seokjin notes innocently, leaning up to open the cupboard and pull out some bowls. In his head, he counts down the second until Namjoon gets the pun.

“Hyuuung,” Namjoon groans. “Please tell me you are not gonna keep that up.”

“Of course I am, I have years and years to make up for,” Seokjin reminds him. It’s a bit of a barb, but a gentle one. He doesn’t hold it against them that they kept it a secret. But he is still going to milk it for all its worth. Jimin could have the innuendos, but Seokjin wants every other sort of joke. After all, as the oldest, it is his birthright.

“So, where is your lawfully wedded husband?” Seokjin asks, beginning to peel the plastic seal off the ice cream tubs. “He left right after the board meeting.”

“He stayed at the studio,” Namjoon says, staring into the remnants of his tea. “I meant to as well, but I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate. Too much going on.”

The two of them are different in that regard. Yoongi often works to distract himself from other stuff. Namjoon’s way of artistry, however, means he has to sink himself even deeper in his thoughts.

“It went well, though,” Seokjin reminds him, though he knows that ‘well’ mostly means ‘not as poorly as it could have’. There were two worst-case-scenarios they had feared. Either an instant termination of their work contract, though that had been highly unlikely. Or the stipulation to keep it a secret until Bangtan disbanded.

Neither of that had happened. The board members and managers had, of course, been one of the smaller hurdles along the way. They supported the members, for the most part. The press would be a different story. The fans. Seokjin cannot think of anything that would compare to the outcry that is sure to come. 

Today was their unofficial day back at work, no more vacation and schedule-free days. It would be two more weeks until they had any public commitments, photoshoots, interviews and the like but, before that, there are still things to be taken care of behind the scenes. Their comeback was due soon, which meant choreographies and filming and hair dye. 

First, though, the press conference. Namjoon had been so suave when he argued their case, like a lawyer with perfectly structured arguments. Seokjin wonders whether he practiced it in the shower. Whether he was internally freaking out.

Yoongi had been much harder to judge. He tended to go on the defense when cornered, be a little too blunt and prickly, so he had let Namjoon do most of the talking. But when Namjoon talked, Yoongi was listening. When Namjoon talked, Yoongi was nodding and smiling and rubbing the ring on his finger.

In the end, Seokjin thinks, that was was convinced the managers that they would have to go public. There was no way in hell they could keep this on the downlow if Yoongi was like an open book.

Better a planned scandal than an uncontained one. And really, nine years of secrets were more than enough.

“Chocolate and strawberry?” Seokjin asks, grabbing a spoon to shovel ice cream into one of the bowls, Namjoon eagerly nodding.

Sometimes, Seokjin almost forgets how much of a little kid Namjoon still is at heart. He is so measured and considerate as their leader that no one could mistake him as anything but an absolute professional. And then he does impulsive shit like getting spontaneously married in France .

Although, Seokjin reckons, it wasn’t all that impulsive. The decision of when and how it happened, yes, but not the fact that it happened at all. 

He slides the bowl of ice cream over to Namjoon who immediately digs in with his tea spoon, savoring the chocolate on his tongue. Seokjin smiles and goes back to prepare the bowls for the others: lots of strawberry with chocolate for Taehyung, green tea for Jimin, and a little bit of everything for Jeongguk. There would still be enough for Hoseok and Yoongi, if they wanted some once they returned to the dorm.

He picks up the three bowls, makes his way through the living room and toward Jeongguk’s room, knocking against the door with his elbow, and then opening it without waiting for a reply.

The first thing he sees is Jimin’s head hanging off the side of the bed, red in the face.

“Hyung!” Jeongguk protests over the music. He and Taehyung are curled up in each other, leaning against the headboard. “At least wait till I tell you to come in!”

“Why, you guys keeping a relationship secret as well?” Seokjin asks flippantly, causing Jimin to snicker. “And I bought you ice cream, so be a little more thankful.”

“Ice cream!” Taehyung cheers, immediately detaching himself from Jeongguk and throwing himself across the bed.

“Tae!” Jimin yelps when a stray knee hits him in the side and causes him to dramatically roll off the mattress.

These kids are a mess and Seokjin already regrets adding sugar to the mix. Still, he hands out the bowls, staying for a moment to watch the kids descend onto them like starving vultures. Leave them to feed themselves for two months and they act like you have abandoned them on the streets.

But they have earned a reward, in Seokjin’s opinion. Not a single one of them has wavered today, resolutely backing Namjoon and Yoongi’s wish to go public. And good kids deserved ice cream.

Seokjin leaves them be then, gently closes the door behind himself and returns to the kitchen.

Namjoon has already polished off his own bowl and put it into the dishwasher. The tubs of ice cream are gone as well, probably squished into their overflowing freezer. Seokjin had meant to defrost it over the break, but forgotten.

“Is that for me,” Seokjin asks, watching as Namjoon pours a decent amount of fairy sprinkles onto another portion of ice cream.

“Yup,” Namjoon agrees, sliding the bowl toward Seokjin with a flourish, like a bartender with a glass of whiskey, and Seokjin catches it before it can fall off the edge.

The ice cream, he notes, is exactly like he likes it.

“You’ll make a good husband,” Seokjin says. It’s a silly thing to say and also one of the biggest compliments he can think of. But, more than that, he knows it to be the truth.

Namjoon chuckles, caught off guard. His gaze rests on the somewhat clunky ring on his finger. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I hope so.”

Chapter Text

V

Jimin’s ears perk up.

“Wait,” he says, lifting a hand to shush the others. “Is that them?”

They all fall silent, huddled up on the couch as they are.

“Oh my God, it is,” Hoseok says, eyes wide, when there is the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

Jimin is up on his feet in a second, but Jeongguk has literally vaulted across the sofa, sprinting toward the door on socked feet and then sliding the last few meters.

“Ggukie,” Namjoon says, sounding wryly amused. “Good to see you.”

“The audacity!” Seokjin yells, somewhere behind Jimin. “How can you be so calm??”

They are all standing at the end of the hallway now, peering into the entrance area where Namjoon and Yoongi have set down their luggage. 

They both look exhausted, but the superficial kind that is to be expected after a red-eye flight over from Europe. Underneath that, though, they look good. Namjoon is darker than Jimin has ever seen him, and even Yoongi has gained some color. Not just a tan, though, but an actual blush in his cheeks that seems to be caused by Namjoon’s hand holding his.

“Hi,” Yoongi says, in a tiny voice. He’s got his mouth mask pulled under his chin and his cheeks look chubby. Jimin wants to go and hug him.

He also wants to whoop his ass after the stunt they just pulled, but he’ll save that for later.

“Get your asses in here,” Hoseok says, a little bit impatiently. He always goes into leader mode when Namjoon is among the troublemakers.

“Is there any chance of us being allowed to take a shower and maybe a nap?” Namjoon asks carefully.

“Nope, absolutely not, you brought this onto yourself,” Hoseok insists, stepping back and waving them into the living room. 

Namjoon blows out a breath but follows, pulling Yoongi along by the hand. Yoongi does not protest.

“Hyung,” Taehyung whines, sidling up with them and then Jeongguk is doing the same, so Jimin squeezes in there as well, and suddenly it’s a group hug. Jimin has been back in Seoul for two days, but now he finally feels at home.

“Okay, enough mollycoddling,” Seokjin says, clapping his hands to move them along. “I’m still not entirely sure this is real, so I need a long detailed explanation of what has been going on to drive it home.”

“Oh, it’s real,” Namjoon says. He and Yoongi are standing at the end of the couch, sinking down on it. Yoongi pulls his knees up to his chest and then lets himself tip into Namjoon’s side. Namjoon apparently tries to suppress a smile but fails.

Oh God, they are cute. Jimin had not been prepared.

“So,” Hoseok says when they are all seated in a somewhat orderly fashion. “First things first: Congratulations. But also, what the fuck, like, what the fuck?!”

Aaand they are back to mayhem. Taehyung’s mouth has been standing open for five minutes straight and Jeongguk looks like he might have a nervous breakdown. Jimin is only doing slightly better.

“Guys,” Namjoon says into the tense silence. “There is really not much to tell beside what you already know. Hyung and I… went to France and got married.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hoseok says with a hard stare. “How about the part where you didn’t tell anyone you were dating at all.”

Yeah, that’s really the thing that Jimin is most peeved about as well. To an extent he understands. But they are family. 

“That was my idea, mostly,” Yoongi speaks up. It’s hard to say whether it’s the truth or whether he is just trying to protect Namjoon from Hoseok’s wrath; Hoseok would never directly scold Yoongi.

“Okay, so cards on the table,” Hoseok says. “How long has this been going on?”

“Pretty much since hyung moved into the dorm,” Namjoon says with a slow nod. “We didn’t actually date right away, but I was pretty much a goner the moment we started working on our first track.”

“But you fought,” Jeongguk remembers because he had been there relatively early on. Jimin hates that he was the last one to join the group because now he is missing all the details. “Like, you fought a lot.”

“Yeah, but those were mostly artistic disputes,” Namjoon says.

“And sexual tension, I bet,” Jimin mutters, just loud enough that only Jeongguk and Taehyung hear and go slightly red.

“There were so many changes in the line-up,” Yoongi explains. “Even when we actually got together, we didn’t know whom we should trust with it in the long run. And then we debuted and there was so much stuff going on. We didn’t want to worry you or risk the company finding out. We thought- we thought if they knew, they’d make us leave.”

That effectively kills some of the excited mood. After all this, they would still have to tell the company and that would not be a pleasant conversation. Namjoon and Yoongi cannot really be blamed for keeping mum for so long.

“Why now, though?” Taehyung wants to know, sounding a little breathless. He probably thinks this a grand fairy tale. In a way, Jimin figures, it is. “What has changed?”

Namjoon lifts his shoulders in a shrug, drops them again.

“It seemed like the best time,” he says, though he probably knows there never is a good time for this. “France has marriage equality, our fame in the West is stable enough to support us in case we lose support at home, we are relatively sure the company won’t drop us. There was nothing else to wait for.”

They should have waited out the military service, at least. Homosexuality might get them rejected and that in itself would reflect badly on them. But even after that, they still had the rest of their contracts.

But fifteen years. They would have been keeping it secret for fifteen years by then. Jimin cannot imagine what kind of burden that must be. It’s a marvel their relationship has made it this far at all. In a way, he is a little bit envious. Life doesn’t often write about true love in such clear letters.

“So what’s the plan then?” Seokjin asks. “Have you just moved on from dating in secret to married in secret, or do you plan to tell anyone apart from us?”

“Um, well, we’ll go see my family tomorrow,” Namjoon says. “And then hyung’s parents. They have no idea yet. I think. My mother always knows more than I tell her…”

“At least we are not the only ones left out of the loop,” Seokjin says, looking a little pinched. Jimin is pretty sure they’d all be holding this over Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s heads for ages. Blackmail them for food. Jimin could just guilt Yoongi into writing him a customized song. God, the possibilities are endless.

“So, you want to tell the company, too,” Hoseok clarifies. “The public?”

“I- yes,” Namjoon says with a curt nod. “We want to be out. We want to- not second-guess every touch and look and sentence.”

Something uncomfortable twists in Jimin’s belly. Maybe he shouldn’t abuse them too harshly for never telling them. Just a little. Just out of principle.

“We still wanted to ask for your permission,” Namjoon adds. “The- the wedding was our thing but. We know this puts you at risk as well. So we won’t do this unless all of you agree.”

“We won’t hold it against you if you don’t,” Yoongi says. It sounds earnest but his gaze is lowered to his knees. Next to Namjoon, he looks very small but comfy. As though he would like to stay there for a while.

“Should we, like, vote?” Jeongguk asks anxiously. He’s playing with his hair again. It’s gotten so long, the fans will freak out once they see. Not as much as they will when they find out that two of the members got married. Crazy to think what kind of shit can go down in less than two months.

“Um, should hyung and I withhold?” Namjoon says. “For, you know, obvious reasons.”

“Okay,” Hoseok says in exasperation. “Who thinks we should tell the company?”

Five hands go up. Namjoon and Yoongi look incredibly relieved.

“Who thinks we should go public?” 

Five hands stay up.

“Who thinks,” Hoseok tags on, “That, even if the company might be against it, we should still do what is right?”

“Guys,” Namjoon says, sounding choked up now, five hands stubbornly caught in the air.

“There, it’s decided,” Hoseok says. “I say we wait until the vacation is actually over and then we tell the board, see how they react. After that, we can still think of a Plan B.”

That would buy them a couple more weeks. It’s a good thing, too. Jimin thinks he will need a little more time to grow used to seeing Yoongi and Namjoon orbiting each other like that with the knowledge that they are in love and married.

Speaking of. There’s is another thing Jimin has been wondering about.

“I have one more question,” he says, and everyone turns to look at him, the newlyweds looking pleasantly guileless.

“Did you guys ever have sex in one of our shared rooms?” Jimin asks plainly, and the chaos returns.

Chapter Text

IV

Hoseok sighs when his phone pings with yet another incoming message. He knows what it will be, knows that he could just mute the chat for the time being, but he cannot quite bring himself to do it.

So he rolls over in bed, plucking up his phone from where he left it lying face-down on the mattress. The small light in the corner is blinking insistently, reminding him that he should really be a good friend and check kakaotalk. So he does.

It’s a photo that Namjoon has posted to the group chat, one in a long series of pictures taken in Normandy. Honeymoon memories. 

If this weren’t the third night in a row of this, Hoseok might still think he ought to be waking up from some dream.

He taps on the photo, turns the screen to better look at it.

There’s a seven hour time difference between France and Korea. One in the morning for Hoseok means six in the evening for Yoongi and Namjoon. In the photo, they are sitting on a small hill by the beach, apparently having a picnic. It looks pretty windy and their noses are red, despite being huddled up in sweaters. Namjoon is kissing Yoongi’s cheek. 

Cute!!! Jimin writes, followed by a series of hearts and other emoticons.

Is that where D-Day happened?? Taehyung asks.

You better bring me some of that cheese, Seokjin demands.

@Taehyung, Namjoon replies. No, it’s quite a bit farther down. We went there, though, read some of the signs. Pretty scary stuff. @Seokjin I’ll see what I can do.

Weird choice for a honeymoon date, Hoseok types, re-considers, backspaces everything.

When are you coming back? he writes instead. He shouldn’t be so calculating, but he wants all of the members to be in one spot for the big conversation. He’s already a bit pissed that, so far, all of it had happened over the phone. He gets why it happened like this, God, he does, but that doesn’t mean he is happy with it.

In a better world, this would all have happened differently. Years ago already, maybe. But definitely with all the members present. With their other friends and their families and all their staff. It would have happened at home, instead of like some crazy stunt out of movie.

It’s easy to call a wedding in France romantic, before you remember that the marriage would not be recognized in South Korea.

Three more days here, Namjoon replies. We’ll land at Incheon and probably spend the night in Seoul. Either go to Ilsan or Daegu after.

Hoseok purses his lips, then gives a thumbs-up emoji in lieu of a proper answer. Then he faceplants back on his pillow, phone still in hand. 

Sleep has not been coming easy for him these past few days. And he loves his friends, but he kind of wants to strangle them. He has been wondering whether any of the other members seemed more likely to throw them such a curveball, Taehyung maybe or Jimin, but nope. It had to be Namjoon and Yoongi.

In a way, Hoseok should have seen it coming. Namjoon is petty as fuck sometimes, and Yoongi can be a downright menace. Their pointed answers to certain recurring questions during interviews should have clued him in.

In fact, a lot of stuff should have clued him in.

Hoseok had been there not quite from the very start, but pretty damn close to it. Though maybe that’s what blinded him to it. All he ever knew was Yoongi and Namjoon, Namjoon and Yoongi. Their nuances seamlessly blended into each other, as though there had never been two different colors to begin with.

Turns out the color was rainbow all along.

Hoseok groans, frustrated. In the morning, he’d call Seokjin again, talk to someone a little more sensible. Out of all the members, the two had always been the ones who were the most cautious regarding their private lives. Of course now Namjoon and Yoongi were strong contenders for that title. In any case, though, Hoseok and Seokjin will help to weather the storm. He doesn’t necessarily think that Namjoon and Yoongi are incapable of doing it on their own, but they shouldn’t have to shoulder that burden by themselves. It’s been long enough after all.

For now, though, Hoseok sits up, leans against the headrest of his bed in his old room. He’s been in Gwangju for two weeks now, catching up with his family and whatever old friends still live in the area. He’s got a trip planned for later, ten days in Japan with his sister. Hopefully, he’d manage to see the others before that. If he was tense during their vacation, Dawon would wriggle the secret out of him in five minutes flat. Hoseok has always been a dreadful liar and Dawon is devious.

Now, though, he just flicks on the reading lamp on the bedside table and props his phone up against his knees, opening up KakaoTalk once more.

No one has written anything new but that’s okay. Hoseok just wants to flip back through the photos from the last couple of days.

All the members have sent some since their break began, except for Yoongi, but that isn’t too surprising. Yoongi takes selcas exactly never, unless it is for ARMY. 

So it’s Namjoon who takes the photos instead, which makes sense, considering they are on vacation together. The joint vacation should have thrown Hoseok for a bit of a loop. That Namjoon would want to go hiking in Normandy made sense, but not that Yoongi willingly went with him.

But France it was and, in the beginning, the pictures had looked pretty normal: wide rolling hills and endless fields of lavender. Yoongi petting a shaggy pony behind a fence. Namjoon standing in front of an old tiny house whose doorway barely clears his shoulder. A comparative picture of Yoongi with a dour expression, the door looking pretty normal-sized.

All perfectly normal.

Then, of course, the video followed by a vague yet distinct change in the photos after.

For all his camera-shyness, Yoongi looks pretty dang photogenic in their selcas. And it’s not about the light or the backdrops or anything like that, because even with Namjoon’s long noodle arms, some of the angles are pretty awkward. But damn if Yoongi isn’t glowing.

It’s not a subtle thing. It’s a radiance that ignores the sunburn across his nose and how messy his hair is. It’s a grin that tries to stay contained but takes up his entire face. It’s his eyes straying away from the camera and finding Namjoon by his side.

Namjoon, of course, isn’t doing much better, peppering Yoongi with kisses, holding his hands, engulfing him in hugs. He does look at the camera, for the most part, like a silent dare to be seen. 

They look so happy and so in love and like they have been sharing these kinds of moments with the members all along. Hoseok feels like an asshole for having any misgivings at all.

He remembers the darker times. The times when Yoongi had been a small white flame, barely kept alive by a shielding palm cupped around it. 

In retrospect it sounds dramatic to call it that but Hoseok had been there and he had seen how little pieces were being chipped away from Yoongi with each strenuous day.

But he remembers, too, the time he had walked past Seokjin’s and Yoongi’s shared room, the door just slightly ajar, a quiet voice coming from within. That had been Namjoon and, when Hoseok had peered through the gap in the door, he had seen Namjoon on Yoongi’s bed, Yoongi curled up in his arms, like a puppet with its strings cut.

The thought had scared Hoseok and, in that very moment, he believed that it would only be a matter of time before Yoongi called it quits. He had stayed rooted to the spot, unable to make himself move away, even though he knew it was a private moment.

He stayed until the exhaustion grew overwhelming and Yoongi finally fell asleep, his muscles going limp in a different way. His head was nestled against Namjoon’s shoulder and his breath was even, and something in Hoseok’s chest unclenched right along with it.

Namjoon had brushed a strand of hair out of Yoongi’s face, terribly gentle, and then he had looked up and caught Hoseok’s eye. He had seemed so exhausted then, so worried, but Hoseok had never dared to ask him about it.

Now, he thinks maybe that look in Namjoon’s eyes is distantly related to the one he now has in the selcas: naked, direct, tired of putting up a front.

Hoseok knows their relationship must have suffered under all the stress. Maybe they had been close to breaking up. Maybe they had considered it the best option, the safest one. Maybe they thought they’d never get some sort of happy ending. Maybe they still wouldn’t.

And yet, there they are. On a honeymoon in France. Namjoon really was one to shape the world in his own image. Or at least after his own imagination.

Hoseok blows out a breath, sets down his phone, slides down the mattress and reaches over to turn off the light again.

Without Namjoon and Yoongi, there wouldn’t be Bangtan. They never even would have debuted. Hoseok had been so close to walking out in the beginning, but Namjoon and Yoongi had persisted throughout it all. Was that because or in spite of their relationship?

He will ask them, once they are back. Once the immediate panic subsides and life feels a little more real again. 

They’ll survive this, too.

Chapter Text

III

Taehyung licks the spoon clean with loud smacking noises, well aware that his mother is sending him a fondly exasperated look from the side.

He had been in Seoul, spending his time with assorted friends, but then decided to go see his family in Daegu. Two weeks into their break and he has been doing a pretty good job of keeping a low profile. That probably makes him sound like some sort of criminal, but whatever.

He’s had great plans for his downtime: practicing his English and his saxophone skills but, so far, he has only been to the Woosung Art Gallery and taken Yeontan on more walks that his little legs seemed to really enjoy.

Right now, he is baking a cake with his mother and that is frankly good enough for him.

“How long does it need to go in the oven?” his mother asks and Taehyung pulls the spoon from his mouth with a final pop.

“I’ll check,” he says, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone and read through the recipe again. When he unlocks the screen, however, he is surprised by the onslaught of messages he has been getting. He had muted his phone so it wouldn’t distract him from his quality time with his mom, but now he is surprised to see their Bangtan group chat on Kakao positively blowing up.

“Woah,” he mutters because either Seokjin took some really questionable selcas again or something big has happened.

Most of what he sees at first glance seem to be key smashes, random emojis and long lines of question marks. As such, not too usual. When he scrolls back, however, he sees that the cause of the uproar seems to be a video that was sent by Namjoon.

That is, admittedly, quite odd. For the most part, Namjoon isn’t the type to post weird memes or anything like that. He ignores it for now, opens his browser where he left the recipe open.

“Forty-five minutes at 180 degrees,” he tells his mother and she hums, turning the oven on to preheat it.

Taehyung idly leans against the kitchen counter, opening Kakao once more. There are even more messages than before but he doesn’t read those, just taps onto Namjoon’s video with mild curiosity.

At first, he isn’t quite sure what he is watching.

There are Namjoon and Yoongi in rather ill-fitting suits, which is strange considering they went to France to go hiking. They definitely aren’t hiking here, though, just standing in some room.

Taehyung sees wood-panelled walls and high windows, dust dancing in the morning sun. The angle is bad, static, the camera probably mounted on a tripod, but there is an old white man, wearing a suit as well, Namjoon and Yoongi standing in front of him, holding hands.

The man begins to speak, something in French that Taehyung has no hope of understanding, so he watches his friends’ faces instead. They look excited, giddy even, Namjoon just a tad bit calmer, proud, tightly holding onto Yoongi who seems to be thrumming, biting his lower lip as he listens to the man speak.

Neither of them speak French either, unless they managed to learn all of it in the past week, so Taehyung doesn’t understand why they look so enraptured.

Taehyung tilts his head to the side. It almost looks like some sort of ceremony. He wonders whether someone recognized the two for who they are and decided to give them the key to the city or something. That would be weird, but not the weirdest thing that has ever happened.

After some more pleasant-sounding rambling, there is a beat and the man motions for Namjoon, as if giving him some sort of cue.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon says in Korean, his smile so wide it splits his face in half and then he doubles over a little, as though caught off guard by himself. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. This will be the best day, the craziest day of my life. I love you- so much and I’ve told you in all the ways I know how. And I know you understand them all. Thank you for being with me and never once doubting me. You have helped me become who I am today. And I am so glad to know you will be there to see who I might grow into tomorrow.”

“What,” Taehyung says to himself, blinking, because that sounds an awful lot like-

“Joon,” Yoongi returns. He is clutching Namjoon’s hands so hard his knuckles are all white. His voice is quivering, too, but not in fear. “I didn’t ever see this in my future. I didn’t even dream it. You… made me dream again when I didn’t always dare to. And you never gave up on me, even when I was close to giving on myself. And… I love you more than I logically should, considering you had a perm when we first met.”

“You-” Namjoon says in a slightly exasperated tone, but then cuts himself off with a shake of his head. He looks toward the old man who nods and then says something more in French.

Namjoon reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, small enough to be hidden in the hollow of his hand.

“No,” Taehyung whispers in awe because this cannot possibly be real.

But Namjoon says something in French, stilted and obviously memorized, and then slips a ring onto Yoongi’s fourth finger.

The man or- or priest or officiant or whatever they have in France asks Yoongi a question as well, the same question, the do you take this man-

And Yoongi repeats the answer, repeats the gesture, takes a golden ring and puts it onto Namjoon’s finger like a promise of eternity.

“Oh my God,” Taehyung says. He is not sure he has really breathed in the past two minutes.

Some more French, the end of the ceremony, and then Namjoon and Yoongi lean in and kiss, kiss and kiss, right on the mouth, like they have practiced this, like they know nothing else, and holy shit, Taehyung just watched them get married.

That certainly explained the influx of speechless emojis in the group chat.

“Are you going to help me clean up?” his mother suddenly asks, standing right in front of him, and Taehyung jerks, almost hits her in the face with his phone. She stares at him and he stares right back.

“I need to poop,” he yells because he can’t think of another explanation and promptly runs out of the kitchen. Usually, he is a better liar but he definitely cannot put on a poker face right now. His entire world just got turned upside down.

He makes it to the bathroom, slams the door shut, leans against it. Then he fumbles with his phone, clicks on the chat box.

???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????, he types out because there is nothing else that can express his state of mind.

He scrolls back, relieved to see that the others’ reactions are really not much different from his own. A lot of disbelief, a lot of yelling. Jimin is cautiously asking whether anyone took drugs. 

But then, in between, Namjoon’s answer. 

Not a prank, not on drugs, he has written. Hyung and I got married, semi-legally (we didn’t have all the documents at hand). It’s real enough to us, for now. I know you have a lot of questions and that this is unexpected. You are the first to know. We would have loved for you to be here, but this is how it happened. Hyung and I will go have a wedding brunch with the sheep now.

Followed by that is a photograph, a picture of some sheet of paper. Taehyung taps on it to enlarge it. It’s all in French but the heading it close enough to English that he understands: Acte de Mariage.

Taehyung swallows, zooms in even more. There are Namjoon and Yoongi’s names in Roman letters, their birthdates, their signatures. The document is all very official looking, but it’s missing some sort of seal or stamp to finalize it.

They didn’t have all the paperwork they needed, Namjoon had said and Namjoon would have definitely researched that before they went to get married in France. So that meant it was a spontaneous thing. They went hiking in the countryside and ended up in holy matrimony. How does that even happen??

Taehyung needs to sit down. He stumbles over to the toilet, flips down the lid, sits on top. Then he speed-dials Jimin. 

He doesn’t have to wait long. Two beeps and then Jimin is screeching into his ear. That’s okay, though; Taehyung is screeching right back.

“Okay, what the fuck, what the fuck,” Jimin is saying over and over again.

“Oh my God, I was making a cake with my mother, I literally just saw, I am still in shock,” Taehyung returns. “What- when??”

“Apparently, just now?” Jimin asks helplessly. “It's morning there. They- I don’t think they had this planned for long.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees. “But. Did you know the rest?”

“What rest?”

“That they were a couple??” Taehyung clarifies, fighting to keep his voice down. He doesn’t want his mother asking questions. Especially not before he really knows what’s going on. 

“Don’t ask me, they didn’t tell me, I don’t think they told anyone.” Jimin seems just as hysterical as Teahyung is feeling, which is kind of reassuring.

“Didn’t- didn’t they ever slip?” Taehyung asks more just to get the question off his chest than really expecting a real answer. “How long has this been going on? How did no one know??”

“I should be disappointed. Logically, I think I should be disappointed,” Jimin insists. “Do you even know how often Yoongi-hyung got drunk with me? And never once has he told me anything about it. Not even a hint.”

“I can’t believe they didn’t tell us,” Taehyung breathes. He really can’t. For years he was under the impression that they shared everything. He doesn’t feel betrayed exactly, but it still stings somewhere in his chest.

“Taetae,” Jimin sighs. “This isn’t about us. None of it is. If anything, I think they didn’t tell us to protect us.”

“I knooow,” Taehyung whines because he does know. He doesn’t get all of what has happened but he understands that much on a molecular level. Their hyungs would never deliberately hurt them.

For a long moment, they sit in silence. Taehyung knows that it will take him at least some more hours to digest the news. Tonight maybe, once the shock has worn off a little, he and Jimin can talk again. Right now, though, his heart is a jumbled mess.

“You know what this means, though, right?” Jimin asks idly, as though it had just occurred to him.

“What?” Taehyung asks.

“We can date whoever we want now because, after this? Nothing else will even get close to being a scandal.”

“Huh,” Taehyung says, contemplatively. That is probably true enough. “But do you think they are gonna tell the public about it?”

“Tae,” Jimin says and it is one of those special moments when he sounds really wise. “I don’t think they got married like that just to stay hidden for even one more day.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees. “I’m still pissed they didn’t invite us.”

Chapter Text

II

Yoongi cannot wait any longer.

“What did he say?” he demands, plucking at Namjoon’s sleeve. He thinks he got most of the conversation, but the man’s English had been broken and heavily accented, so he wants to make sure.

“We are missing a whole lot of documents,” Namjoon says, looking a little chagrined. They both had expected as much but it is still disappointing. “A translation of our birth certificates. Various papers from the embassy. Proof of residence within the country. And that is before we can even apply for the marriage license.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says, shoulders drooping. He knows he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, but the idea was so crazy it felt like that alone should have made it work.

“It’s okay,” Namjoon says, kissing Yoongi’s forehead. “We can do it somewhere else. We could book flights to Vegas right now and be married tomorrow.”

That’s true. It would definitely be easier in a lot of ways. A little less magical maybe. A little more likely for them to get recognized in Las Vegas than in this tiny village in Normandy, population 214 and falling.

The old man taps Namjoon on the shoulder. His face is kind and he must be kind, considering that he came to see them personally. He is the mayor of the village and, unlike his secretary, he had a somewhat firmer grasp of English.

In the war, he had said. He had picked up enough to get by as a boy in the war.

He seems sympathetic to their cause, has no idea who they are, two Asian tourists looking to get married in the middle of nowhere. He takes it as a compliment, that they must love his village, and they do, but other places could give them marriage licenses, too. Not all places, though. Not their home country.

He exchanges some more words with Namjoon now, Namjoon obviously straining to understand what is being said. Namjoon asks some questions, making sure, audibly excited. Yoongi’s fingers curl into the hem of Namjoon’s shirt sleeve.

When Namjoon next turns to Yoongi, his eyes are sparkling.

“Okay,” he says. “So this is kinda not how I imagined it, but this is what he offered: he can do the whole thing for us, preliminary license, ceremony, even the certificate. But he won’t legally sign it and make it official before we really get all our documents ready for him. So he said, we can do it now and then come back next year or so to finalize it.”

Yoongi’s mouth falls open.

“We can do it?” he asks. He is still waiting for the words to truly sink in.

“When?” Namjoon asks the mayor and then hastily tags on a s’il vous plait.

“Demain,” the man says. “Tomorrow. In the morning.”

“Oui,” Yoongi says because that’s pretty much all the French he knows. He can’t quite stop himself from excitedly hopping on the spot. “Oui oui oui.”

The man smiles, all his wrinkles curving upwards, and then he and Namjoon talk some more. They leave five minutes later, with a promise to be back at town hall by half past nine tomorrow morning.

“What did he say, what did he say?” Yoongi begs once they are outside again. He caught bits and pieces of it but not enough to finish the puzzle.

“His secretary is going to take care of all the paperwork that needs to be prepared,” Namjoon replies patiently. “We’ll need at least one witness, but he said he’s going to bring his wife for that. And he is going to ask someone to find us some suits. There are no shops around here, but we can probably borrow some.”

“Isn’t that an English saying?” Yoongi asks. “Something old, something new?”

“Something borrowed, something blue.” Namjoon nods. “I saw an antiques store down the street. Wanna go look for something old?”

“Yes,” Yoongi says and then he is putting his hands on Namjoon’s cheeks and pulling him down into a kiss.

They have never kissed in public before, and now they are doing it in the middle of a main street. Admittedly, there is literally no one else outside right now and the villagers are so old that at least half of them are either blind or deaf, but still. Namjoon’s lips have never tasted sweeter.

“You are my fiancé now,” Yoongi singsongs in a teasing tone, as though Namjoon hadn’t totally brought that upon himself.

“Technically, I have been your fiancé for-” Namjoon checks his watch, the skin underneath the wristband much paler than the rest of his arm, even after just a couple of days of hiking in the countryside. “- four hours now.”

“Tomorrow by this time, you will already be my husband,” Yoongi says and then cannot help the giggle that spills out of him. Oh God, he feels high. He’s never been high but he is pretty sure this is what it feels like. It’s like every Daesang rolled into one. It’s Grammy’s and BBMA’s and every single blowjob Namjoon has ever given him.  

Namjoon smiles, all dimples and smooth lips. 

“I like the sound of that,” he says. “Husband.”

If Yoongi’s heart gets any fuller, it will burst.

Hand in hand, they amble down the street together. There is not a single car on the road, and the ones parked at the sides seem to be relatively old models. The young people are fleeing to the cities and the old ones stay behind. In another decade or so, no one might even live here anymore. For now, though, it’s the most beautiful place Yoongi has ever been to.

They find the antiques shop between the bakery and a shoemaker and all of them are such a far cry from Seoul that it almost feels like they have been transported to another century altogether. Though, he reckons, France hasn’t even had marriage equality for a full decade yet, so maybe he is happy they are here now instead.

There is no one manning the store when they enter, which means they could probably steal stuff, but they kind of want to stay on the good side of the villagers for obvious reasons. So they just walk around inside a little, inspecting stuff here and there. By unspoken agreement, they both know what they are looking for and quickly find it in a glass display next to the counter.

“These are all pretty ugly and none of them match,” Yoongi points out, peering down at the assortment of rings. He’s worn some garish stuff for work, but some of these really take the cake. “I bet most of them were sold when some old lady died and her family didn’t know what to do with her stuff.”

“I know they are ugly,” Namjoon laughs. “But I don’t think we are gonna find anything else around here, unless you wanna hike over to the next town. And… I kinda like that they look like that. This attention-grabbing.”

For nine years, they had never worn any true sign of commitment to each other. The others bought couple bracelets and matching outfits out of friendship, but Yoongi only occasionally got to wear Namjoon’s old shirts. Now, he smiles.

“Let’s get the ugliest ones they have,” he says and turns back to the display.

The display isn’t even locked, so they open it, try on the rings. The most opulent ones are too small, made for women’s hands, and Namjoon panics when he gets one stuck on his first knuckle.

Their laughter eventually draws an old woman from the backroom, who doesn’t much seem to mind that two foreigners are playing with her wares, just lights a cigarette and watches them with droopy eyes.

Finally, they have made their decision. Yoongi gets a ring that seems so old it looks more brass than gold, outfitted with an oval-cut gemstone which the woman repeatedly assures them is genuine rubis. Namjoon’s doesn’t have a stone, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less showy. It’s a signet ring, some sort of flowers and a cross on its surface. They have no idea what it means and the old woman’s explanation would probably be convoluted enough even if they did speak the same language.

In the end, they buy both rings for less than 200 euros. It is, by far, the cheapest jewelry Yoongi has owned in years. It’s the most meaningful.

“Maybe we can have them engraved once we are back home,” Namjoon says when they have wandered outside again. “Or even restored. They could certainly do with a polish.”

“I wanna put them on now,” Yoongi pouts. He’s got Namjoon’s safely tucked away in the inside pocket of his jacket and it seems to be burning a hole through the fabric. 

Namjoon lets out a laugh, tossing back his head. 

“I should have gotten you an engagement ring,” he says. “Wedding rings are for the wedding.”

“I know,” Yoongi whines. “And I want to be married now.”

“We can do fun stuff to pass the time,” Namjoon offers, swinging their entwined hands back and forth between them.

“Is it sex? Are you going to distract me with sex?”

“Maybe tonight,” Namjoon says, skipping ahead but pulling him along. “Right now I wanna go say hi to the donkey.”

“You already said hi to the donkey yesterday,” Yoongi protests. The donkey had been cute, sure, but not that exciting.

“Yeah, so?” Namjoon says. “I’m just being polite.”

Yoongi blows up his cheeks. “Is this how the rest of our wedded life is going to be like?”

“Hmm, not really. I mean, how many donkeys do you usually see in Seoul?”

“Namjoon, you say hi to butterflies.”

“Most of them only have a short life expectancy,” Namjoon reminds him. “We have to be nice to them.”

Yoongi will marry a lovely idiot.

Chapter Text

I

Namjoon buries his face in the pillow, trying to escape the late morning sunlight creeping in through the window. They had forgotten to pull the curtains closed last night and this is what they got in return. A lazy morning interrupted by the sun.

Strictly speaking, they have been awake for a couple of hours now. They had gotten up and peed and brushed their teeth and washed up without hurry. And then they had crawled back into bed and had breakfast there, croissants with butter and cranberry jam, strong coffee, freshly brewed. But the damn curtains they had forgotten. Or at least the fact that the Earth was orbiting the sun and thus the sunlight moved through the room, just enough to hit Namjoon’s eyes at roughly 10 am.

This was only their second night in this village but Namjoon already kind of wants to stay forever. The inn they are staying at is a picturesque little thing, a thatch-roofed house, roses twining around the fence up front. It’s run by an elderly couple looking to make some money on the side, only really having three rooms to rent out anyway, but the other two are empty and so Namjoon and Yoongi have the shared bathroom for themselves.
They’ve been planning this vacation since forever, since they knew they would be getting a longer break. Fuck, since way before that. 

“Someday,” Namjoon had told Yoongi, as though he had a flying carpet or a magic steed. “I’ll take you somewhere where no one knows us and we can do what we want.”

It had been a promise a long time in the making. But late is better than never.

No one even knows exactly where they are, something that had disconcerted their managers, worried about their general safety.

“At least make sure you two stay together,” Sejin had reminded them sternly and, well, that’s what the plan had been anyway.

They had gotten a room with two beds, for propriety reasons. Just in case someone who knew them found out after all. But the room under the roof is small, the beds narrow and easily pushed together. He and Yoongi slept close together so neither had to lay in the gap between the mattresses and, so far, Namjoon has banged his head on the slanted ceiling a grand number of four times.

The first time Yoongi had kissed it better, the second time he had cracked up laughing, the third time he had offered to go buy Namjoon a helmet, and the fourth he just pulled Namjoon back into bed with him because being horizontal was obviously less hazardous.

That had been half an hour ago and now Yoongi is straining into Namjoon’s loose fist. The bedding is made of real downs, so they have pushed the blanket to the foot of the bed for fear of ruining it. Yoongi’s breath is hitched, his mouth slightly open but his eyes closed. Namjoon lies curled around his side, working Yoongi’s cock in a rhythm he has perfected over the years, and he can see the muscles in Yoongi’s thighs and belly jump in rising tension.

There is so little urgency here, like time has come to a stop. Usually, they have to hurry with everything; sex, kisses, even loving words. They are so busy and so watched, and maintaining a secret gay relationship like that is seriously challenging. 

But here. Now. Yoongi comes with a little moan, his hips bucking off the bed. He spills all over himself, but Namjoon is already reaching for the tissues on the bedside table.

“Great job,” Yoongi groans when he is wiped clean and has rolled over to lie in Namjoon’s arms. “Now I definitely don’t wanna get up for at least another hour.”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon says, kissing the top of his head. “We got nowhere to be.”

“I love that combination of words,” Yoongi grumbles. “I wanna hear it more often.” He smooshes his nose against Namjoon’s sternum, rubs it back and forth a little. “And you,” he adds, sleepily presses a little kiss onto the warm skin. “I love you, too.”

It’s somewhat rare to see Yoongi so at ease. Sometimes he is verbally affectionate, sometimes physically, but not often both at the same time. It’s not that Namjoon has never seen it happen, but he still treasures every single memory of it. On instinct, he tightens his hold a little, draws Yoongi farther against him.

Yoongi is so pliant that he just lets it happen, cuddling even closer by throwing a leg over Namjoon’s hips, bringing their groins and bellies flush together. They need a few more minutes before they can go again, but Namjoon can already feel some anticipation stirring in his guts.

He thinks Yoongi falls asleep again, his breath evening out, his head falling back against the pillow. They both dyed their hair back to black to look more inconspicuous, more plainly Asian, and Yoongi’s is a beautiful contrast against the white linen. 

Namjoon can count on two hands the days they had when they could relax like this, naked in bed together, with no fear of anyone walking in, anyone calling, anyone asking where they are, what they are doing and with whom.

It’s a pity to think that, by so thoroughly winning in their professional lives, they have cheated themselves out of all these tiny luxuries. A handful of days spent lazing around. Sweat building between their bare skin with no need to wash it off. A trip abroad without any cameras following their every move.

After almost a decade, Namjoon and Yoongi don’t need much time on a daily basis to keep their relationship alive and healthy. On the days they don’t see each other, they don’t constantly text. They don’t randomly visit each other at the studio when only one of them is working. It’s even okay to sleep in different beds, different rooms, a sturdy wall separating them at night.

But Namjoon thinks it might get more difficult after this, now they have had a taste of what they could have.

Relaxed as he is, Yoongi’s cheeks look especially full, like a plush little dumpling. Namjoon wants to pinch him and kiss him and never let him leave this room.

He draws his hand up along Yoongi’s side instead, fingertips meandering across the ribs, and Yoongi stirs, nose crinkling.

“Namjoon,” he complains with a little whine, clearly not fully awake yet, and Namjoon grins.

“Are you ticklish?” he asks and Yoongi tries to wriggle away from his fingers.

“You know I am.” Yoongi manages to catch his hand, drags it between them and up to his face, before kissing Namjoon’s fingers.

“Stop bullying me,” he says between kisses. “Be nice.”

So Namjoon thinks of the nicest thing he could possibly do.

“Marry me,” he says, fingers closing around Yoongi’s hand. “Marry me before we have to go back.”  

And Yoongi could protest how that is silly or insane or impossible. He could point to all the reasons why that would be a very bad idea, for example because not even their closest friends know that they are even together.

But Yoongi doesn’t do that. He just pushes himself up so that he is on eye level with Namjoon and then he presses a kiss to his mouth, blunt and no-nonsense as Namjoon has always known him to be.

“Okay,” Yoongi says, sinking his hand into Namjoon’s hair, casually as though the moment might be surprising but not the thing itself. And maybe it isn’t. Namjoon has been in love for a long time.

There is a lot they need to talk about still. Whether it is even possible to do it here at all, whether they should tell their friends before or after, whether they should tell the world.

Yet the world is small out here, smaller still in this attic and in this bed and, with Yoongi right in front of Namjoon, the world doesn’t seem very important at all.