Chapter Text
Somewhere between the vows and the fireflies, time softened its grip. It no longer ran ahead of them, nor pulled them back into ache. It simply allowed them to live-breath by breath, day by day, sigh by sigh. And with each moment, they learned the delicate art of loving not just fiercely, but gently.
After the wedding, after the cathedral lights dimmed and the last song faded from the reception, they returned to the home they built in the western Netherlands. A house not grand, but full of wonder. One Jungkook had quietly constructed during the loneliest nights, with blueprints drawn from Taehyung's childhood dreams and corners shaped by memory.
From the back window: an endless view of the western sea, tides sweeping in like lullabies. From the front: a field of tulips, stretching in every shade from blood-orange to midnight violet.
Sometimes, they'd open both windows and let the sea wind dance through the tulips, scattering petals across their floors like blessings from a god who finally approved of their love.
They didn't rush through life anymore.
Mornings began with the scent of coffee and sea salt. Taehyung would hum while slicing strawberries for breakfast, barefoot, sleeves rolled up. Jungkook would wrap his arms around his waist from behind, still sleepy-eyed, pressing his face to the crook of Taehyung's shoulder like he was inhaling the world's safest place. "You're warm," he'd murmur. "You're home."
There were mornings Taehyung overslept and Jungkook burned the toast. Times when Jungkook's sketches piled unfinished and Taehyung felt uninspired. Once, they argued for a whole afternoon about the placement of a new shelf. Taehyung snapped. Jungkook slammed a door. But by dusk, silence turned to apology. Jungkook came with a tulip tucked behind his ear, sheepish. Taehyung brought warm soup and a handwritten note left on the kitchen counter: "Even if you hang the stars upside down, I'd still choose your sky. Het spijt me, ik hou van je."
Because they knew-they always knew-that love was not the absence of storms, but choosing to anchor to each other through every one.
Afternoons meant sunbathing on the sand, warm linen towels, salty skin, and the hush of waves. Taehyung often brought a book-a weathered one he never quite finished, too busy dozing off with it resting on his chest. And Jungkook, ever the artist, would sit with a sketchpad in his lap, his gaze drifting endlessly to his muse. The curve of Taehyung's wrist. The slope of his nose. The small furrow between his brows when he dreamed.
Sometimes, Jungkook painted him. Sometimes, he simply watched-content with the real thing.
They spent rainy days inside, painting ceilings, rearranging furniture, planting lavender by the windowsill. They built a small greenhouse in the back garden, where Taehyung sang to seedlings and Jungkook caught his voice in jars of air and called it music.
Evenings were slower still. They'd cook dinner together-bickering softly over recipes, flicking flour at each other like children, sharing wine, and dancing barefoot in the kitchen to old love songs. Their shadows danced along the walls, echoing laughter into the dark.
Then they'd sit outside on the porch swing, Taehyung's legs draped over Jungkook's lap, watching as the sky turned to honey, then to stars. They made wishes anyway, even when they already had everything.
And when it rained-and it often did-they stayed in. Taehyung would read aloud while Jungkook laid with his head in his lap, the rhythm of his voice like thunder and velvet. They made love slowly on such nights, like the rain was counting each touch.
They lived that way for years. Quietly. Gloriously.
And then one day, they weren't just two.
A pair of small feet began echoing through the tulip fields. Then two more.
Children filled the house with laughter, wild questions, untamed imagination. Their daughter had Taehyung's mouth and Jungkook's fire. Their sons, quieter, had Jungkook's eyes and Taehyung's soul. There were messy mornings, paint on walls, jelly fingerprints on windows, but even exhaustion became a kind of prayer.
The beach became a kingdom. The kitchen, a castle. The fireplace, a galaxy.
They taught their children to draw love notes in the sand and collect fireflies in their palms without hurting them. To say sorry softly. To say I love you often.
At night, Jungkook would tuck them in and whisper, "You are made of the stars your appa and I once wished upon." And Taehyung, always watching, always nearby, would smile like he was holding the universe in his arms.
One time where the sunset smeared too early, Taehyung woke up from his nap. The afternoon light spilled golden across the wooden floor, dappling like spilled honey through gauzy curtains. Somewhere in the house, a song hummed low-one of those old ones Taehyung used to dance to in his childhood room, when dreams were still too big for his chest. But now, here, the music was gentle and slow, as if the house itself had learned to breathe with them.
Taehyung was cross-legged on the floor of the playroom, shirtless, his skin kissed by sunlight and the chaos of three toddlers. Tiny dresses and plastic teacups were strewn around them, a plush bear slumped sideways in a toy pram, and two half-dressed dolls leaned lazily against a pastel dollhouse.
Opposite him, their daughter Lauren was now deep in concentration. Her chubby fingers sorted through a collection of glittery stickers: hearts, stars, smiley faces, and sparkling rainbows that shimmered when they caught the light. She had just learned what they were for-and more importantly, how permanent they could be.
"Appa, stay still!" she said with a giggle, gently smacking a pink heart sticker onto Taehyung's collarbone.
"Yes, ma'am," Taehyung laughed, amused, his arms obediently raised in surrender. "But may I ask why my entire chest is becoming a sparkly zoo?"
Lauren didn't even look up. She was busy applying a row of glittering stars beneath his ribs, like a crown for his heart.
"Because," she said solemnly, "Papa said stickers make things prettier than they already are."
Taehyung froze-just for a breath, just long enough to feel his chest swell. The moment sunk into him like a wave he didn't expect, slow and tender.
He looked at his daughter, wide-eyed and glowing with innocence. Her tiny face lit up as she placed a smiley face sticker right over his heart, her mouth forming a proud little "ta-da!"
Taehyung blinked, then smiled-smiled like the world had just handed him the moon.
"Oh," he whispered, voice barely catching on the warmth blooming behind his ribs, "Did he say that?"
Lauren nodded enthusiastically, grabbing a rainbow and plopping it onto his shoulder. She clumsily took the camera from the nearby dresser and took a photograph of her appa, now smiling at her. Jungkook swore he saw a goddess in that film.
From the doorway, Jungkook watched the whole scene with the softest curve tugging at his lips. He leaned his frame against the doorframe, his arms full-carrying their twin boys, Junghyung and Taehkoo, one nestled on each side. Both of them were blinking sleepily, cheek to shoulder, thumbs in mouths.
Jungkook chuckled softly, careful not to wake the boys, and said, "Well, I wasn't wrong, was I?"
Taehyung turned, startled at first, then relaxed when he saw his husband's silhouette. The sight of Jungkook-shoulders strong, eyes tender, their sons cradled like sacred things-made Taehyung's smile deepen.
"She took your words a little literally," Taehyung said, gesturing to his sticker-covered chest. "Apparently, I needed some improving."
Jungkook stepped closer, his voice lowered like a kiss. "No one can improve you, love, Lauren meant something lovelier than what that pretty little head of yours thought," he said, leaning down to press a light kiss onto Taehyung's temple. "I know I taught her well."
Lauren was too busy now-convinced that the final sticker, a butterfly, belonged on the tip of her appa's nose.
Taehyung went cross-eyed trying to see it, and they all burst into laughter. Even Junghyung stirred and let out a sleepy coo, and baby Taehkoo kicked his little foot in his papa's arm, not knowing why everyone was laughing but happy to be part of it.
Jungkook gently sat down beside them, careful with the boys in his arms, and watched as Lauren climbed into Taehyung's lap like it was her rightful throne.
And there, surrounded by dolls and sticker sheets, stuffed bears and love unspoken but deeply lived-they sat as a family.
A soft, glitter-stuck, tangled-limbed family made of stars and stubborn hope.
And in that moment, everything was enough.
There were harder days, too. Illness came and went. Once, Jungkook fell ill with fever and Taehyung slept by his side for days, hand never leaving his.
Once, Taehyung forgot their anniversary-just once-and Jungkook didn't speak for hours, sulking around the house until Taehyung appeared with a picnic set and a handmade book of their love letters. "I didn't forget," he whispered. "I just wanted you to think I did, so I could watch you miss me a little."
They had their quiet battles-but always, in all ways, chose to return to each other.
"It still baffles me how the universe has made this kind of bewildering fate for us... I mean, if it hadn't been mother-in-law in the picture, we'd just be a speck of probability among the cosmos." Taehyung chuckled, holding his husband's delicate fingers.
Jungkook only hummed and smiled, resting his nose on Taehyung's nape.
"I mean, I knew my mother was not the best in raising children, let alone having a sane family. It just saddens me a little how her life became a wreckage from all her wrongdoings and it hurts me, still, to see her cry back in the hospital..."
"It's all in the past now, my love. I like to think time moves its ways for things to slip past our minds too..."
Taehyung looked up, as if thanking the heavens, the stars now making their footprints on his delicate irises-Jungkook never missed noticing.
And with all the fondness freckling Jungkook's orbs, he just shook his head and kissed his hyungie's cheek. Because after all, the universe gave in to the sparks melding their existences long before they could even fathom.
They returned to the bar that had once held the wreckage of their youth-where heartbreak had once been soaked into the wood grain of the counters and memory clung to the amber light. But this time, it felt different. The weight had lifted.
Lily, now twelve, sat between Vanessa and Jungyoon, giggling with her cheeks full of cake. Her fingers were sticky with frosting, and her hair was tied in loose braids that bounced with every laugh. Jungyoon had his arm wrapped gently around Vanessa's shoulder, their subtle glances soaked with familiarity. Vanessa had already offered her apology to Jungkook years ago. It was quieter than he imagined-no grand speeches, no tears-just a softly spoken, "I understand it would be hard for you to forgive me, but I am trying to make up for my shortcomings. I am sorry Jungkook, I always do," and that was enough. He had smiled and said, "Thank you," because forgiveness, when meant, didn't need to shout.
Lily had hugged him tight that day, breathless and bright-eyed. "Uncle Jungkook," she whispered, "Papa says I look like you too sometimes."
Jungkook had chuckled, tousling her hair. "You've got your dad's smile, but your heart? That's all your own."
Now, as the bar's low music played beneath the hum of old conversations, Lily opened her birthday presents, eyes wide at every ribbon and bow. She looked up at Jungkook once more, holding a handmade card in her hand. "Uncle Jungkook, when I grow up... what should I do when I fall in love? There's this boy in my class..."
The room quieted for a beat, stunned by the sudden question. Vanessa shook her head in disbelief and Jungyoon from caution.
Jungkook knelt beside her, brushing a bit of frosting from her nose and cleared his throat. "When Cupid finds you," he said softly, "love like it's the first and last time. With everything you've got, even the scary parts. Because love... love is always worth it."
From across the table, Jungyoon laughed, shaking his head. "Baby, you're too young for love... how did you even know that word?"
Lily just smiled and shrugged.
Jungyoon peered over Jungkook once more, a rhythm of joy dancing in his throat. "You're going to scare her of love forever with that kind of intensity."
"Let her find out herself," Vanessa teased, resting her chin on her hand.
They stayed longer than they meant to-old friends swapping stories, the past and present blurring gently like watercolors bleeding together.
As dusk gave way to night, the rain began to fall.
They stayed in for a little while in hopes of passing the weight of the clouds. The windows glossed over in silver as the drops trickled in soft rhythms. Jungkook and Taehyung sat together on the couch, legs tangled loosely, fingers intertwined. The glow of the lamps was low, warm. Neither of them spoke at first.
They simply watched the rain.
It reminded them of St. Louise Park. Of the bench. The heartbreak. The fireflies.
But now the ache had gentled, no longer a wound-just a quiet part of the story.
"I used to think we'd never make it here," Jungkook said finally, his voice a hush.
Taehyung turned to him, eyes half-lit by the window's dim reflection. "But we did."
Jungkook smiled, pressing his forehead lightly to Taehyung's. "And I'd do it all again."
There were no grand declarations, no dramatic metaphors-just the quiet knowing that love, when true, didn't need to perform. It simply stayed.
And in the hush of the rain that night, they leaned into one another again-not to fix anything, not to escape-but to just be.
Together.
One evening, long after the children had gone to sleep, they returned to the circle of stone-older now, but no less in love.
They sat just like before-Jungkook behind Taehyung, arms around him, faces upturned toward the stars.
"You remember this place?" Taehyung whispered.
Jungkook kissed his temple. "Every night I remember our wedding, I come here."
The fireflies returned that evening, as if they too remembered.
And as the moon hovered above, silver and knowing, the two men leaned into one another like prayers returned to heaven.
In another world, they had lost each other. But in this one, they found forever.
And as long as the sea sang, and the tulips bloomed, and fireflies still glowed-they would love.
Even when they forgot birthdays, left socks on the floor, or burned dinner. Even when they couldn't agree on curtain colors or movie endings. They would laugh, and forgive, and mend each moment with soft hands and softer hearts.
They grew older. Their hair had grayed. Their bones ached. But their love only deepened, like wine aging in some quiet cellar of the world.
Their anniversaries were spent beneath the stars, sometimes with the children, sometimes just the two of them. They wrote each other letters every year and kept them in a wooden box under their bed, promising to read them again when they were too old to remember why they first fell in love.
Because theirs was not a perfect love. It was real. It was lived. And it would last-for a thousand more.
The rain used to feel like a reckoning to Jungkook-a reminder of everything that had slipped through his fingers. It came down heavy in his chest, echoing the weight he carried in silence. Each drop had once sounded like goodbye, like all the love he couldn't hold onto had turned to water and fallen back to Earth in mourning.
But now, after everything, after the ache and the returning, after Taehyung found his way back to him like a forgotten prayer-Jungkook began to see the rain differently.
It no longer felt like a loss. It felt like a return.
Each drop was no longer a wound, but a whisper. A soft knock on the windowpane of his heart reminded him: Love returns in different forms. Sometimes through arms that never let go. Sometimes through eyes that never stopped looking for you.
Taehyung had changed the way he saw the world. Made him gentler. Softer. Slower. Like the way dusk spills over the ocean when no one is looking-quiet but impossibly beautiful. He taught Jungkook that grief didn't have to stay sharp forever, that pain could make room for warmth if you let it breathe. That rain didn't have to mean goodbye. Sometimes, it meant beginning again.
Now, when the sky opened, Jungkook stood by the Bermuda without flinching.
The rain became a lullaby. A balm. A reminder that even the coldest clouds still knew how to let go.
He no longer associated it with the day Taehyung left-but with the night Taehyung came back.
And so, when it rained now, Jungkook closed his eyes. His hair now ridiculed by color, like the clouds that pour and his face freckled by creases, he looked back at the tomb where Taehyung had laid and traced its rough edges.
1949 - 2024
He smiled as he looked up with the rain caressing his face, as if Taehyung in heaven had linked his fingertips on every drop.
He imagined the droplets as tiny hands pressing tulips into the soil of his chest, reminding him that even sorrow can bloom into something beautiful. That forgiveness can fall gently. That love-real love-does not vanish; it finds its way through storms and across years, and returns with open arms.
Where once he had felt the rain like grief, now he felt it like grace.
Because Taehyung had taught him this:
That love thaws. That hearts mend. That yesterday's rain would come back when you just believe. And even the rain-especially the rain-can be more than just its resemblance to sadness but to love he came to know.
Het Einde.
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