Archive of Our Own ^beta

They say if you look at a person’s pictures, you can learn a lot about them.

Well, by “they” say it, it was Taehee who said it, while sprawled out on Jimin’s lap, in their dorm room, at 2am, when they were taking a study break.

“Is this about you scrolling through Namjoon’s Instagram again?” Jimin murmured, while focusing on her laptop.

“NO,” she said.

Jimin coughed.

“MAYBE,” Tae groaned, shoving her head into Jimin’s stomach. Her best friend calmingly stroked her hair.

“He just posted a picture of a backpack sitting on the ground, but's slouched so it looks like it’s SMILING!,” she moaned into the soft blanket on Jimin’s lap, “How can you expect me to be emotionally OKAY with this.”

Jimin's fingers stroked her hair while she hummed her agreement absently. She giggled at her computer screen, her "I'm texting my boyfriend" laugh.

“JIMIN...why do I feel like my Namjoon-shaped problem is not being given the attention it deserves?”

She looked down, cooing “sorry babe, Hobi asked what was up and I said you were groaning about Namjoon’s Instagram, and he was like ‘omg wait, did he post a shirtless selfie or something??’ and now he’s checking out his window for pigs flying.”

Tae rolled her eyes.

“Some of us look for more...spiritual things, Jiminie.”

The loud snort she got in reply was Jimin’s opinion on THAT.

“How he looks at the world is beautiful!” Tae insisted, scrolling further, “Look! Even his outfit selfie-series come with quotes from his philosophy readings!”

She sighed forlornly.

Jimin raised her eyebrows, and then pointed at a picture, where the tall young man lounged in the doorway of a historic Japanese house, belying his casually fashionable clothing, as the artful shadows in B&W emphasized the smooth planes of his face.

“What do you call THIS then?”

“...okay, and ALSO he looks like if a sequoia came to life and was a lowkey feminist. With great forearms.”

“Thhhheeerrreee it is,” Jimin finished, while nodding decisively.

She looked down at Tae, who’d fallen silent, scrolling the senior’s instagram. Sometimes Tae got like this when it came to matter of the heart. Quiet. Reflective. Too silent, for all the feelings bouncing around in her heart.

“SO," Jimin announced, "we can’t just let some silly NOODLE MAN have the best picture on Instagram tonight, can we??” she said loudly.

A smile broke across Tae’s face.

“Can I wear my new beret?”

----

A young Jimin, squishing Tae’s cheek, while smiling overly wide. Tae is mid-laugh, wearing a hot pink beret with pineapples on it.

Taehee paused on this picture, in her deep-dive scroll through Instagram photos, looking for fodder for Jimin’s wedding shower. Gosh, that was what...4 years ago now?

She remembers college, Jimin before things got serious with Hobi, before they all graduated, before the multiple post-grad crises, sleeping on various couches while looking for opportunities, before figuring out their lives had settled down, and now…

Jimin’s Instagram was solid cute travel pics, the dance competitions she took her students to, posing with the 7 year old and a proud Hoseok with a trophy, and then...the picture of Jimin gasping in delighted shock, as Hobi got down on one knee.

Tae smiled at the memory of the itchy bushes she'd crouched in, to snap that shot, but how the week-long rash was worth it to capture a truly surprised Jimin face.

Now she was maid-of-honor! Even though Kim Seokjin who was living the socialite life now threatened to arm-wrestle her for it. And after looking at Jimin’s family’s list of pre-wedding festivities, Tae threatened to lose on purpose.

“I don’t understand why there’s so MANY,” Tae had whined.

“It's a southern thing,” Jimin had primly shrugged.

Tae shot her a look, but didn’t follow up with any questions, because she knew the Parks were a big deal in their community, and Jimin rocked Vinyard Vines jeans while eating her Mom's kimchi, so heck who was she to judge.

Seokjin did not get the memo.

“But you’re KOREAN?” he squeaked in shock.

Jimin inhaled archly, “Yes I am, though I'm more American than YOU, diplomat boy, and second of all, if you think, being a member of the immigrant community means my Mom doesn’t make the sweetest tea, and throw the FINEST Kentucky Derby watching party…”

Jin held up his hands in surrender, “okay OKAY, I would never dream of impugning Mrs. Park’s ability to be ANYTHING but the finest lady.”

Tae wrapped her arms around Jimin from behind, and smacked kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t worry Jimin, you’re belle-est and South-est person I know.”

Jimin preened a little, though she felt it was necessary to add, “You don’t know ANY southern belles, Tae, you’re from Iowa.”

“Hey now, we have a lot of cow bells,” she said with a wink.

But even as she got a chorus of boos & Jin's squeaky laugh she just brushed it off, determined not to fail her friend while navigating the befuddling formalities of the South.

This is how she ended up scrolling Pinterest, muttering to herself about the appalling bachelorette choices, hours after school let out for the summer, she’d cleaned her classroom up, and was still sporting paint streaks on her face.

She looked at her cactus, given to her specifically for it's long life in spite of spotty watering schedule.

“Any thoughts, Oscar?”

It looked back, serene.

Tae looked back at her laptop screen, a blur of Pinterest tabs.

"You’re right, I should keep it simple," she said to the cactus, while clicking an 87th "100 Bachelorette Party Favors You Can Make With Mason Jars!!" link, adding to the tab army. "That's what I like about you, Oscar, you're level-headed."

Her computer emitted a trilling bouncing tone, as if on time, and the icon of the person who somehow entrusted her with this goose chase popped up on Facebook.

Tae took a deep breath and clicked the phone icon, as Jimin’s face popped open to 3/4ths of the screen, her hair pulled back, kitchen in the background, chopping vegetables.

“Heyyyy! Looks...productive and delicious!” Tae trilled.

Jimin beams at her, “thanks! I’m trying this new recipe! it's supposed to travel well, so I can carry it into work, we'll just have to see.”

Tae tried not to think of the last time she tried to make an online recipe that involved the phrase “meal-prep” which ended up requiring two extra trips to the grocery store and a sob over the zucchinis.

She added a big cheesy wink as she told Jimin, “You're right, I guess the veggies look good too.”

Jimin's smile cracked up like a miniature sunrise, as she stuck her face into the screen, sticking her tongue out.

“You’re terrible Taetae. How’s bachelorette planning going?”

“Good news!” she replied, glancing at her 72 tabs of party ideas, and yet her sparsely pinned board.“there’s lots of ideas!”

“...that means they’re all garbage, doesn’t it.” Jimin casually said.

Sometimes Tae wishes she could hide ANYTHING from her best friend, but mainly it's a relief.

“It's more like I wish anyone on this hell-site had been introduced to the idea of creativity once in their life?”

Tae absently scrolled through the last page she had opened. “There was a place that suggested you not drink wine, but just take pictures of it? What?”

“That’s not a party, that’s a cry for help.”

“Exactly what I said, this is why you’re the best,” she continued down her board of “Jimin’s Possible Bachelorette Bash” reviewing the options, “Ooohh I found a place, The Artistic Bachelorette, that hosts groups of ladies to do...wait for it...LIFE DRAWING!”

“Oh that sounds coo--wait," Jimin paused, as the video quality stuttered, "is this a weird art thing, like...is this the drawing where they’re all--you know...”

“In the NUUUUDDE!” Tae yodels into her speakers.

The tinny scream of Jimin through the laptop brings a smile to her face.

“I wonder if they travel,” Tae muses, “I wonder if I could have them arrive at your house? I wonder if we could get your Mom would answer the door?”

She grins through the increasingly creative threats of death, and reassures Jimin with a “DON’T WORRY don’t worry, I’m just finding 72 uses for mason jars over here and it’ll be FINE. Just...REALLY hope I can whip something together.”

Her voice gets softer as she chews on her lower lip.

“Of course you can!! You’re my best friend, you know me better than anyone on the planet, and I know whatever you do will be unique.”

Tae was glad she couldn’t hear her queasy smile. “yUP!”

“....but like….it’ll also have margaritas, right Tae?” the note of insecurity coming through her voice.

“Um, Of course, duh, who wouldn’t have margaritas,” Tae said, shifting the phone to one ear, so she can scribble down “margaritas?? Mix?? Flavor??” on a ragged post-it note. “Remind me again, which flavor of unmissable margarita would i absolutely never forget to get you because I am your best friend in the world, and maid of honor extraordinaire?”

There’s a laugh, as Jimin replied,

“You remember those passionfruit margaritas we had? You know, at that one place in Florida, on spring break…the first time Hobi and I went on vacation?…”

“You mean the spring break where we got a deal so the whole dance crew could go to Palm Springs, but then it rained, and we sat on the beach under an umbrella anyway, and you told me you liked him so much you felt like you were going to throw up on his shoes, so I had to trip you into him?"

Tae could hear Jimin's flush. "I tripped mySELF thank you," she said, "There was a crack. In the sand. ANYWAY, the next day! at the pool! when the sun came out!"

Tae remembered.

----

Jimin laughing, her head thrown back, the sun hitting her face. Just under the large pool umbrella, Hobi leans against the pole, posture curved inward with interest, smiling.

The sun was shining, but it didn't match the beaming light from her friend's face, barely dimming as she tucked her hair behind her ear, her Big Flirtatious Move ("really? I thought it was the slut drop" said Seokjin, minutes before he was tripped into the pool) and the matching grin on Hobi's face.

"oh Tae, you don't mind, Hobi needed somewhere to drop his stuff," she said, in her bright-totally-nonchalant-except-not-at-all tone.

Tae didn't mind, on purpose, she scooted her stuff to the other chair. Hobi & Jimin kept chatting.

Not just bullshit flirting either, after 10 minutes of lively conversation, Jimin SNORT-laughed (which and they were deep into discussing favorite dance styles.

Tae knew this was different. Watching their facades come down was a form of magic.

She didn’t mind.

Jimin had to fall in love, of course.

So she took her camera out of her bag, and snapped a picture of them.

----

“Yeah! So passionfruit! Got it!” Tae said, brightly. “Anything else?”

“No hon! I trust yooouuu!” Jimin sang into her microphone, blowing a kiss, and Tae rolled her eyes.

After she hung up, Tae continued scrolling Instagram, floating down an endless river of outfits, landscapes, perfect chia bowls, puppies, curated work stations, and the occasional beach.

And then, with a brief pause, Tae typed in “kim_daily” and popped open Namjoon’s profile.

It’d been a long time since college, she reasoned, it’s normal to keep up with people!

She scrolled past his last posting, a B&W set of skyscrapers, mixed with a shot of a few crushed petals on the NYC sidewalk, next to his Vans.

His caption: “spring. the cycle of life keep happening, even when I’m no good at balancing on it.”

She buried her face in a pillow and groaned.

Okay, so maybe it was hard to shake off, and maybe sometimes she checked his page, when she was one glass of Riesling into a Friday night after a hard week, with toddler meltdowns, and tried to imagine what it would be like, if she had pursued a job that had zero crayons in it. If she hadn't picked one close to family so her Mom wouldn't worry, nothing to make her stick out from the family anymore than she already did.

But that’s just photography for you, she reasoned.

Pictures hold memories, feelings, like inexhaustible flowers, releasing their perfume and pollen, when you browse through them.

Ah well. Time to go update her own page.

Leaning over the pile of takeout wrappers, Tae angles the camera to take another shot of Oscar.

“Quiet night at home with my main squeeze!” she subtitles it, then pauses and adds, “literal squeezing not recommended.” and hits “post”.

---

Screenshot of a billion different pinterest party ideas, wish some circled as “yes??” or “maybe??” or “lol this is just for giggles” sent to the extra-super-secret groupchat that excludes Jimin.

Seokjin voted for the nude drawing party, and Yoongi asked why he was being asked about the “eldritch feminine horrors” of bachelorette party, since he wasn’t going anyway.

Tae typed out a frustrated reply, “guys, if you’re not going to help why even go to the trouble of making this chat, when we have to maintain a decoy fake group chat excluding Jimin for this to even WORK! Speaking of which, someone go post some harmless gossip in that one, it's been inactive too long she'll get suspicious.”

An unknown number typed out. Paused, Typed again.

“I think the build-a-bear is actually a cute idea.”

Oh damn, she forgot Namjoon was in this group text.

“Thank you for being the only person to take this seriously” she typed back out. “Also yes. Taste.”

She received a string of smilies back.

The problem was, Jimin was one of those magical people who learned if you liked jelly donuts instead of powdered, memorized your coffee order from thin air, & had the ability to just...keep up with all this information, magically.

Taehee never understood HOW, but she appreciated it.

When she dragged the new luggage her Mom bought her onto the tiny private college campus, and Jimin bounced into her face, shaking her hand, announcing “Yoongi says it’s an impossible expectation to think you’re going to be friends with a roommate when you first meet them, but he just needed to be hugged more as a child. I KNOW we’re going to be besties!” Tae felt a flash of hope, that this friend meant it, that she’d stick with her.

They swapped their personal details while Jimin put her clothes away, favorite books, hobbies, shows, Tae's being The Greatest Love because "Gong Hyo Jin is a triumph of vulnerability," gasping when Jimin hadn't seen it, "I mean, my Grandma watched dramas but it wasn't really my thing?" she said.

"Ooh, what did you watch? Like what was your favorite show?"

"I don't know," said Jimin, folding her leggings, "mostly just like, whatever was on the CW? Gossip Girl?"

Tae tried not to gasp, "wow I was SOOO not allowed to watch that! All the sex and stuff!"

Jimin shrugged, "I was more into dance, really, I didn't watch TV too much."

Tae sat up, "I mean, me either, I'm more into music...movies...photography. Just general artsiness."

Jimin straightened up, and saluted her, "General Artsiness!" as Tae blinked, and then dissolved into laughter.

From that moment on, they were inseparable.

Tae learned Jimin was the kind of person who loved surprises, but hated telling you directly what she wanted.

So, Tae ended up on the phone with Hobi, who sounded unfairly chill, asking if he knew what on earth Jimin expected from a bachelorette party.

"Hm?" he vocalized. The connection sounded a little crackly, Tae wondered if he was staying late in the studio.

"She's GOT to have hinted something!" Tae pleaded.

The noise of shuffling obscured the mic for a minute.

"I don't think so, Tae-ster," Hobi said, in his "I'm definitely occupied, but I'm physically present because I love you" tone of voice. "She just was saying how excited she was that you were her maid of honor & how you guys have dreamed of this moment since you were braiding each other's hair in college and all that?"

Her head head hit the desk in front of her, "ok coolio, great, as long as I don't have expectations to disappoint! wonderful."

More rustling, and now murmuring, but in a gentle, supportive way. It encouraged her.

"I just want it to be memorable, you know?" she said, out loud. "something Jimin will remember, and not in the 'I panicked at the last minute, stuck on some pasties, and hid mySELF in the cake, even though I know the one thing I know she doesn't want is strippers' way, you know?"

There was a signature squawk laugh on the other end, quickly muffled.

"...hey, Hobi what ARE you doing?" she asked, curiously. A windshield squeaky laugh in the distance on other end, made her sit up straight.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm just here with the guys, getting our fittings finalized," he said, airily, "you're on speaker, sorry, haha, got my hands full of pins!"

“All the guys?” she said weakly.

The laughter now multiplied, so she couldn't identify everyone there, but she heard Namjoon’s baritone muffled words to Hobi.

The noise that wrestled it's way up her throat, she'd only heard once on the farm back home, when her grandpa was adjusting a sheep, mid-breech birth.

"oH, COOL. SORRY TO INTERRUPT, YOU'RE SO HANDSOME HOBI, I'M SURE YOU ALL LOOK GREAT! GIVE MY REGARDS TO UHH THE CLOTHING CHEF!" she blurted out, before hitting the "end" button.

Her head sinking to desk met with a thunk. Great. Just great.

----

Picture of a crinkled Doritos bag, crushd artistically amongst school assignments.

"I honestly don't know how someone who corrected Kim Seokjin about tapas, who's father was the cultural attache IN BARCELONA for 5 years, has such a taste for Doritos," Jimin primly told her, as she turned the page of the glossy magazine sandwiched inside her textbook, looking for dress inspiration.

Tae simply stuck her tongue out at her, crinkling the bag loudly.

"I read a bunch about the Catalan ethnostate a while back," she said, waving it away with orange-dusted fingers. "So? I can appreciate life, Jiminie! Better to make something good out of what I have than yearn for what I can't get right now."

Jimin sighed and rolled over, her hair falling into her eyes.

"OR,” she enunciated, “you save up your junk food budget to get that hummus tray, or what was it, those...goat cheese-stuffed figs on crostinis."

Tae held up the bag, crinkling it thoughtfully, posing her eyebrows dramatically.

Jimin's lips quirked traitorously close to a smile.

"To snack....or not to snack” Tae dramatically sighs. “....whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer the preservatives & saltiness of the moment, or by denying oneself....end them...."

She dramatically crunched it to her chest, faux-sobbing loudly. She didn't let up until Jimin had slid off her bed, upside-down, hair bouncing with her laughter.

This is what she lived for, the broad smile on Jimin's face, as she gave in, righted herself, and padded around their dorm room, to magically whip up some taco salad on which to sprinkle the now-pulverized Doritos.

"See?" smacked Tae loudly, digging in with a plastic fork, "we make the best team."

Jimin rolled her eyes, "you're eating on a Frisbee--" but Tae leaned up, making big airplane noises, swooping her next bite into Jimin's mouth. "mmmmmmmmm yes, there's a big bite!"

Their laughter was so loud, there was a thump from next door.

"GO MAKE YOUR OWN TACO SALAD!" Tae hollered, incurring more thumps. Jimin tried to shush her through the giggles.

"hey did your Mom send you any of her amazing kimchi this month? do you have any left?" Tae asked, smacking her lips. Jimin just rolled her eyes and got out the tupperware in her tiny fridge.

"Okay but close the lid quick," she said nervously, "you know Stacy will smell it if you leave it open for too long." she said.

"screw Stacy," Tae said, getting up and walking over to waft the opened container over the bed of their third roommate.

"TAEHEEE" Jimin yelled, a pained face, though she was giggling.

Tae just shrugged, and grabbed a leaf to munch on it, returning to her perch on the floor.

“So.” Jimin said. “Namjoon?”

Tae groaned. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

Jimin somehow managed to coo around a whole mouthful of taco salad.

“But he posted on your Facebook Wall! About that random french rapper!”

Tae shrugged, but Jimin already was scrolling to pull it up.

“He said, ‘excuse me for being weird, but i saw you were listening to Keny Arkana and literally no one else I know has hard of her! Anyway, she sounds like she knows her stuff, even though I don’t speak French.”

Her overly-large “are you KIDDING me” eyes made an appearance at Tae.

“SPotify is a snitch!” Tae yelled, “ also ALL that means he has excellent taste in rap! Which we kNEW. And he literally hasn’t said anything else to me since then!

Even though I skipped all the way to Music App, and vibrated with excitement, when he dragged in barely awake, and I waved at him when he looked over, but it turns out he was just adjusting his position, not even looking at me. Her brain helpfully supplied.

“So! he’s just horribly unaware of personal boundaries when it comes to his favorite things, which...we also knew.”

“But so are YOU, this is perfect.”

Tae buried her face in the beanbag on the floor and mumbled incoherently.

“Can’t hear you babe!”

Tae lifted her head up, and said, “I can’t help that I have good taste in people! It doesn’t mean anything!”

Jimin smiled, while ruffling her hair.

“Yes babe, but so does he.”

---

The problem was, Jimin was right. Taehee had excellent taste. In most things, really. Clothes, books, music. The things she lingered over, the book covers she trailed her fingertips across...they ended up on critic’s lists, or discussed in bookclubs, or featured in exhibits.

“Didn’t Tae just tell me about…” was a common refrain amongst their friends.

It was different than having expensive taste, which was what Jimin had. Hobi once joked you could line up clothed mannequins, with no tags, and the one Jimin walked up to with a sparkle in her eye, would be the luxury designer goods.

Tae on the other hand, would pick the mannequin that inspired her, and then probably cut the sleeves off, burn a design on it, and then discover it was vintage Gucci she destroyed & Seokjin would never forgive her, even AFTER it caused a stir during fashion week.

She figured it had to do with her upbringing. Or, this is what Jimin told her, and she never found a good enough reason to disagree.

When you grew up in the middle of nowhere, you had stretches of time between chores or workbooks, to just wander around in the world, look at the sky, draw designs in the dirt, poke your nose into old trunks in the attic & play dress-up with your grandparent's clothes.

You had to find your own joy, but if you looked long enough...you could make it yourself.

Photography was one of those pieces.

It was like how she liked Namjoon. The way you admire an excellent mural. Beautiful, larger than life, and out of reach. You can admire it, but you can’t take it with you. But that’s okay, it’s a mural, it’s meant to inspire a lot of people, not decorate your living room.

She first noticed him during her part-time library shift.

Namjoon, studiously going through notebooks at a table, the sunlight streaming in the class window, illuminated the small crease between his brows like a golden finger resting on it.

He stayed there for hours, occasionally mouthing words silently, like he was so wrapped up in the words, they had to spill out of him. He caught his unfairly full bottom lip between his teeth, and Tae nearly dropped a stack of returned books.

When he came to the desk, to check out a stack of philosophy books, he nodded to Tae with a smile.

“Hey! You’re in App, right?”

She blinked hard. “Um,” she said, eloquently, “I’m in....Appetizers?”

His grin blossomed into a bark of a laugh.

“No no Music Appreciation, sorry.”

“OH!” she said, tripping to catch up, “um, yes, it’s really cool!”

She swiped his book through the sensors.

“Even if we haven’t gotten very far into the music part yet. I didn’t know there were so many madrigals." she said primly.

He just grinned while gathering up his stuff, “Yup, it’s crazy. Kinda love all the weird instruments, even though my roommate claims if he hears the ‘dingly-ding of death’ one more time he’ll commit homicide.”

Tae nodded, “I’ve been threatened with multiple forms of exclusively medieval death.”

He had two small dimples that popped up when he smiled. wonderful.

“Well,” he said, while waving, “See you lute-r.”

Tae’s laugh exploded out like a mirthful gunshot, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Namjoon’s eyes widened in shock like he was surprised that slipped out, and twisted into an apologetic, “Sorry!! I just…automatic, I have a roommate who makes these puns and...nevermind! See you!”

So what, he was beautiful and had a terrible sense of humor, and a fondness for wide-leg light-wash denim and did she mention, made pUNS and--NEVER MIND!

Tae knew many beautiful people! Sometimes she walked up to them and said things like “sorry if this is weird, but your eyes are luminous, can I grab a photo?” and they laughed, and then pulled faces so ridiculous, she was laughing for hours. (that was how she met Seokjin.)

But watching the dedicated senior, she didn’t want her lack of social skills to be her first contact with him. “You can take pictures of him!!” crowed Jimin, “use your...quirky homeschooler magic and go WOW him!”

Tae just groaned into her chocolate milk. “Jimin you beautiful butterfly, that’s not how any of this works.”

Jimin just bounced her brows.

But not even HER magic could work.

Nothing happened, beyond consistent, cordial contact. She DID keep running into him, though, as he paused on the sidewalk to pick up a little green lizard and put him a bush (with a tiny laugh), or humming an off-key tune in the library. Occasionally he made eye contact with her, and his face stretched out in a smile that looked like a daisy in the sun.

Tae would wave, heart leaping in hope, and then see him smile equally widely at a friend who walked up to chat with him.

See? He’s a nice guy, she told herself. Which was great! You love nice people! she harshly reminded herself, as she methodically turned a flyer in her hands into confetti.

The first evidence that she was falling hard turned up in class. The squirrelly little dance-jock freshman with bright eyes Jimin had adopted was also in Music App. Jungkook-something? Occasionally Jimin asked Tae how he was doing, (“I helicopter because I CARE, Tae-by”)

Tae just shrugged and said, “yeah, I mean he found a way to headbang to gregorian chant while studying, but he got the highest score on the midterm?”

Jungkook was quiet though, hadn’t asked a question all semester. One day, he raised his hand to make a stuttering, but insightful point about Schubert. He made brief eye contact with Tae, and gripped a quick, silent fist of victory at his side.

Then some entitled jerk had gone out of his way to scoff at Jungkook’s point, and something like “maybe it wasn’t obvious to kinesiology majors, but--”

Tae was halfway through her list of creative, yet silent murder methods, when she saw Namjoon’s hand raised.

Namjoon had smoldering fire in his eyes that Tae had never seen in face before, turned to face the kid, instead of the professor and began with “I think Jungkook made an insightful point." Then he destroyed him, implying that this punk had either never read the textbook, done an assignment, or even worse, “but more likely, that you’ve completed all the homework and listening, and missed every single point.”

Jungkook beamed at him admiringly, and Tae nearly clutched her chest in pain.

She could feel her heart oversaturated with admiration, could feel it nurturing a seed she wasn’t trying to plant, knew it was about burst into bloom.

Everything else stayed the same, saw him in the library, heard good things from her friends, but now each mention, each sight, watered the little flowers growing in the cracks in her heart.

A lot of her life had been spent finding the nooks and crannies she wasn’t supposed to find, or love or touch or be close to. When she decided to go to college out of state, when she focused on art, she’d learned how to work around disapproving parents, or the depressingly tiny percentage of success.

She’d learned how to plant her feet in the weeds, clamber over a fence, or get the right angle of the side of a grafittied barn on private property, because it doesn’t matter how far away it is, you CAN take a picture of it.

and dammit, she was a good photographer.

Even if sometimes she only had snapshots in her heart.

----

A short video of rolling green outside the car window, shifting to heavy woods, the camera switching over to Tae’s face, too close, yelling “HOW IS IT ALREADY SO HUMID, GOD!”

Jimin’s video reply, just her laying back on the loungechair with a glass of lemonade, as she lowered her sunglasses, saying “the heat never bothered me anyway.”

The drive to South Carolina had been exhausting, but once she got to the Park’s big estate (that was the only word for it) tucked away in the trees, Taehee sighed in relief.

Once she carefully parked her only slightly dented Subaru, behind back, she rolled her ragtag suitcases up the brick drive to the expansive steps.

Before she could get up them, however, the double doors burst open.

Jimin, hair pulled up, sporting denim cutoffs and an old dance T-shirt, the teensiest bit of a tan starting, came running.

“TAAAAEEEE!”

She fell into Jimin’s excited arms.

“You’re here!!” she yelled, into Tae’s shoulder.

“I am!!” she crowed. Pulling back, she scanned Jimin’s face, the reality hitting her once again. “Oh my gosh, you’re getting MARRIED!!”

Jimin squealed in response, vibrating with excitement.

“Heeyyyy! From the decibel level, I figured it was either an earthquake, the apocalypse, or Tae arrived.”

They looked up, to see Jung Hoseok’s newly black-again mop sticking out of the front door, with a grin breaking his sharp profile.

Taehee flung her bags over her arms and ran up the stairs, wrapping him in a huge hug that he protested, but returned warmly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Awwww Hobihobi!”

She drew back, making a face, “no wait you’re a horrible monster! You’re stealing away my best friend! To live with you forever!”

Hoseok arched an eyebrow, “ahhh, I always knew it would come to a duel, Taetae. I won’t give her up without a fight.”

“YOU GUYS ARE SO SILLY” squealed Jimin, taking the stairs two at a time.

Before she could swat either of them, she checked her phone. “Oh! You guys head in first! I have to pick up Namjoon from the train station.”

“Oh!...." Tae said. “Cool. Right. Namjoon is your best man! Coolcoolcool.”

Hobi and Jimin swiveled to look at her, as one.

"You okay there, champ?" Hoseok said, with a hint of amusement.

“What!," said Tae, "I mean that’s awesome. That Namjoon is coming! On a train! Like…an old-timey author who looks out the window and gets inspiration for his next book serie. ANYWAY WHO’S HUNGRY?”

“Alright," Hoseok drawled, “While you stay the coolest person, I will find some food. Jimin, text me when you’re there, the traffic is bad.” he said, matter-of-factly, pulling her close to kiss her cheek.

She rolled her eyes fondly, pulling away, “it’s just down the road, leave me alone, babe.”

Tae squinted as Hoseok tugged his short athletic fiancee back into the fond wrestling match that all their PDA inevitably turned into. As soon as Jimin had him in a headlock, Tae figured she should interfere.

“If you guys think this kind of grossness will make me lose my appetite,” she announced loudly, “I’m sorry to report that a lifetime of exposure has given me an iron stomach. I’m immune! I'm going to head inside eat you out of house and home as is my right!”

She couldn't tell if they heard initially, but untangled, and kissed like a (gross) normal couple, before Jimin flounced down the steps two at a time, waving.

“Y’all are monsters,” Tae said.

Hoseok grinned. “You’re just jealous.”

“MONSTERS.”

---

If she was wondering if she’d miss Namjoon’s arrival, Jimin texted her a huge meme of Cinderella running down some stairs, with all-caps “GET DOWN TO THE FOYER OR BE A PUMPKIN!”

She calmly speedwalked down the stairs, and ONLY missed the last one. A growth moment!

Namjoon was standing there, taller, talking to Jimin. He seemed different. The gangly college kid he stretched out and thickened into a full-blown young man, standing on the checkered tile, like a whole man who belonged in this fancy house.

His head snapped around, and he saw her on the stairs.

His smile was just as warm as she remembered, & even though rumpled for the trip, his hair was still perfect. This was awful. Horrible. Worst-case scenario.

“Hi, Tae!” he said. Those warm eyes embroidered her name onto that smile.

All her emotions jammed up in her head. Faint warning klaxons sounded deep in her cerebellum.

“HEY Namjoon!” she brightly replied, recovering from the stair stumble. She slung an arm around Jimin, to avoid having to decide whether or not to hug him or shake his hand.

He stuck his hand out. Oh well. She slid hers into his firm grip. Smooth, long fingers. An artist’s hand.

“Long trip?” she asked. Damn her voice, she thought, why did she sound so breathless.

“Not bad actually,” he said, running his other hand through his hair, “the train from NYC was faster than I expected. Stopped in DC to catch up with a few people yesterday, but today it was nice to just look out the window.”

His well-worn flannel tossed over his white shirt and khakis belied his big city job, but as Jimin had sighed once, there was no changing Namjoon.

Hoseok seemed to leap out from behind the fancy clock in the hallway as he ran forward, shrieking “Joonie!” to grab Namjoon in a big hug.

Namjoon leaned into it, wrapping his arm around his waist, sighing.

“Ah Hobi.” then pulling back, gripping his shoulders, he exclaimed. “The man of the hour! Of the week! Our hope!”

“MY hope,” Jimin said, tugging Hobi back, wrapping her arms around his waist, and hooking her chin over his shoulder.

Namjoon placed a hand over his heart, and bowed formally, "Yes. but he was mine first though!”

Hoseok did his bashful braying, while turning slightly pink.

Tae reached in and tickled his chin, while cooing, "aw, Hoseokie can't handle all this praise!"

Impossibly pink, Hoseok batted at them all away, while his fiancee limpet remained attached to his back, and turned her gaze to them.

“So tell me, why does the editor of that poetry journal who is ALSO the hottest, up and coming, young MC, look like he’s helping clean out my garage.” Jimin asked, casting an eye on his clothes.

“This?” Namjoon stepped back, “This is a prominent Japanese designer, thank you very much!”

Jimin’s face was unmoved.

“...and it’s comfy,” he added, with a pout.

“See? Namjoon understands, honey bun.” Hoseok jumps in.

Jimin was opening her mouth to object, but then they all heard a heavy thump coming from down the hall. After she craned her neck down the hallway, her mouth flattened into a line.

“Ok SO as much as I want to just catch up, Mom is already trying to go lift the heavy topiaries to move them to be place-settings for the attendant’s party-”

Namjoon mouthed “attendant’s party?” to Hoseok, who just gave a “not now” headshake.

“SO, I’m going to go fix that, unless any big strong men would like to assist me,” she announced, sailing away.

Hobi bounced his brows at them.

“That’s my CUE!” he says, as he sails away.

Tae just grinned, hollering “save the HEAVIEST THINGS for MEEEE” down the hall, while dawdling in the foyer.

Namjoon cleared his throat, standing awkwardly by his suitcase.

“So--”

“So--”

They both burst out laughing.

“Um, so, long time no see?” he offered.

“I guess it HAS been a while, Joonie,” she said. Her eyebrows flew up at her own use of the endearment. “Sorry, Hobi is always talking about your accomplishments, you know. Congrats on the EP, by the way!”

“Ahhhh!” he said, waving it off, “just glad to get it off my chest. The Pitchfork review was completely unexpected, I guess they had a guy at the release party, but I didn’t know about it.”

He gestured at her, “so! Are you still...doing…”

Tae cleared her throat, “kindergarten teacher? Yeah.”

He nodded, “Neat! Right! Man, so you’re just off for the summer then?”

She smiled and stretched, “yup! I’m a freeeee woman! Well, until I start my part-time librarian position for the summer.”

He smiled, “hey, you should send me some book recommendations. I’m up to my ears with all these and honestly? I could use a kid’s book.”

She stroked her chin, affecting a posture, “Hmmmmm, see, I can’t really recommend a book without you first experiencing it in a storytime. It’s a whole thing.”

There was a brief pause, and Tae’s stomach plunged as she wondered again what tiny demon always grabbed her tongue when she was around him.

But he simply nodded, as if they’d always been on the same page. “Of course, how could I have overlooked this vital piece of information.”

She shrugged expansively, “Common misunderstanding about children’s literature, no worries.”

He let out an "of course" with a perfectly straight face, as if he was considering a new business deal.

“So if I find one,” he began, looking at her with curious eyes, “could you maybe do the honors of breaking the storytime ice for me?”

Suddenly it felt warmer than even the South Carolina late June heat justified. Taehee blinked.

Hobi’s voice echoes down the hallway,

“stOP FLIRTING AND GET DOWN HERE!”

Their eyebrows leap up, as Namjoon clears his throat. “Guess we better get down there!”

She nods, “yeAH, gotta report for duty!” tossing off a salute.

Wincing at herself, she walked down the hallway.

This was going SO great.

--

In the conservatory, everyone was moving plants around.

“Namjoooonn!” Mrs, Park said, extending her silk-clad arms, with a smile that was just close enough to Jimin’s to make you a little dizzy, like reality had shifted just a little to the left.

He delicately leaned in to hug her. She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“How ARE you?”

Everyone else got to work, shifting things around, and Jimin had to go find some silk bunting for the tables, and Hobi took that excuse to disappear with her, while Mrs. Park fluttered and cooed.

“You look thinner! Tell me you're taking care of yourself in New York?" she kept right on going, "So, a nice young man like yourself can’t still be single, right?” she said, jokingly. “you know, there’s a few special girls coming to this party!,” Mrs. Park said.

“Ah!” he laughed, “you know I’ve really been focusing on my career, it’s so...busy!”

She beamed proudly, as if he was asking her to PLEASE give him more phone numbers.

“So wonderful,” she said, patting his shoulder, “so good to stay busy!”

Tae already feels the uncomfortable itch under her skin.

Mrs. Park used to always ask Jimin about Namjoon over the phone, “when was that nice boy coming to dinner again??” after he and Hobi stayed at their house for Thanksgiving break.

It was before Jimin had announced that she and Hoseok were dating, and Tae remembers the anxious pull of her eyebrows, insisting that Joon was just a friend.

She also remember the subtle pushes, the invites, the urging Jimin to “wear a little lipstick, you never know!” as Jimin grumbled that she HAD a boyfriend, thank you very much.

One specifically hard fall break, when, Mrs. Park had asked, in her cultured tone as lovely as her perfectly applied lipstick, “but why a DANCE teacher, Minnie.”

Jimin had yelled, “I LOVE DANCE, I AM A DANCER, MOM! Remember all those recitals you took me to as a child? I don’t know WHY this is SO HARD to UNDERSTAND!”

Mrs. Park had soothingly replied, “but you’re don’t have to support yourself with that, honey.”

Jimin had closed her mouth, when white as a sheet, and hadn’t spoken to her mom for the rest of the trip. That...had been a rough week.

But Tae remembers the moment when Mrs. Park softened on Hoseok.

---

A quick hospital selfie, where Jimin’s smile is hopeful but stretched a little thin, in the fluorescent light.

The one semester was rough. It started out busy but Tae tried to occasionally stick granola bars in her bag, or text her, “hey i’m done with class, wanna grab something together?” but Jimin just got…busy. They both did, they went from their dorm room, to dance, and to work, and back again, but Jimin...shrunk.

It’d been so busy for Tae too, deciding between elementary education or to focus on visual art, she felt guilty with how much hr friend slipped past her notice, how often she just walked into the room, flopped onto her pile of clothes that was her bed, and passed out.

She’d walked out of class, one day, having just turned in an assignment, feeling happy and cheerful. It was a sunny day, and she pulled her phone out, to text Jimin a silly face, but had a txt from Hoseok: “Jimin passed out at practice, don’t worry already on our way to hospital.”

Yoongi had driven her to the hospital, and they sat in the fluorescent waiting room.

“Text Namjoon and let him know everyone’s okay,” he told her, “he was pacing around the room, cursing his “lack of an internal compass, which is why I don’t a driver’s license,” and I told him I’d just TAKE him with me, but he’s somehow got it in his head that if he came along, he’d knock an important monitor over, and ‘what happens if I shut someone’s oxygen off??’”

He rolled his eyes. “I told him, ‘i think they’re all plugged in tight, also Jimin is just getting some FLUIDS, she’s not in a COMA, god Joon,’ but he insisted.”

Tae smiled.

Yoongi huffed, “It’s tough being friends with idiots sometimes, my god.”

Taehee nudged him, “that was your fond sigh though.”

Yoongi snorted. “I don’t understand that comment and I won’t respond to it.”

When they were let in, Hobi was already there, calmly holding Jimin’s hand, who was a little pale but smiling wanly and said, “Taetae! Hey, tell the doctors my blood sugar is wrong, I’m TOTALLY sweet,” and Tae nodded and then promptly burst into tears.

Hobi called Mrs. Park with a steady voice, & then later welcomed the worried Parks into the hospital room, with a brilliant smile, as if it was he were hosting them in his own living room, instead of a crappy shared room with too-thin curtains, and a septugenarian with pnuemonia on the other side.

Mrs. Park walked up to Hobi, her eyes steady, and took his hand. She squeezed it, and for a moment Tae could see the lines around her eyes.

“Thank you, young man,” she’d said, her patrician tones wobbling.

Hobi met her gaze, squeezed her hand, and bowed slightly. “Anything I can do, ma’m.” when he came up from the bow, his eyes shone a bit. “Jimin deserves the world.”

Tae couldn’t have been more proud if he had been an actual soldier, receiving a knighthood. She stuffed her fist against her mouth to keep from whooping out loud.

Ever since then, Mrs. Park asked Hobi how his parents were, if he needed anything, and listened intently to his plans to open a dance studio.

“Finally, she can see how uptight and responsible he is,” a now rosy-cheeked Jimin had said, after a few months of carefully, intentionally shifting things toward hr health.

Relieved, she flopped on Tae’s bed. “It’s like ‘don’t worry Mom, he nags me better than your wildest dreams.’”

Tae waggled her eyebrows, “I think it’s more that the carrot he dangles is so much more appealing…”

Jimin giggled and curled into a little ball, while smacking Tae’s legs. “sTOP IT, you dirty mind.”

Tae just giggled, wrapping her legs around Jimin’s torso.

“As if Hobi could nag you into anything you can’t melt him out of, Jiminnie-moo.”

Jimin sighed, falling limp over Tae’s legs.

Her hair fanned out like an inky flower.

“Ah, Tae!” she said, breathlessly, “I just….ugh, I love him so much!”

She turned and buried her face into the blanket over Tae’s thigh with the force of her squeal.

“It’ssostupid!”

Tae casually scritched her hair, reassuring her, “No Jiminie, loving people is never stupid, just as long as you save some of that love for yourself, okay?”

Sh looked up, her pout and mussed hair, one of the most adorable things Tae had ever seen.

“NO! You have to keep the rest of it!”

Hr scrunched up face filled Tae with more love than she knew what to do with.

“Okay Jimin, if you say so.” she said, leaning in and booping her nose.

---

But Mrs. Park’s glowing smile was still the same, as she looked at Namjoon.

“Oh come now,” she said, “There’s a few girls I know, who I KNOW your mother is interested in you talking to. I called her the other day, I said, ‘I feel terrible my daughter is getting married while your son is still single,’ and of course, you know they would be here except they’re in Florida this weekend, ”

Namjoon laughed, one of those practiced ones, as he said, “Ah, but Mrs. Park, you’re already married, and you know I’ve never gotten over that heartbreak.”

Tae grabbed a topiary, to avoid snorting aloud.

“Oh you," she said, then with a slightly sharper venom, "you know it's not good for a nice boy like you to live alone! You're getting settled in your job, you should make your Mother happy, give her some grandbabies."

Namjoon’s polite smile was swoon-inducing, but Tae had seen it enough times to see the fundamental shakiness in it.

Tae looked over. Namjoon’s eyes flickered over to hers, wide, uncertain.

"My Mom is very glad I'm working right now, and she's busy with her charity work, it's very good," he said, "so where do you want these topiaries?"

Mrs. Park clucked her tongue, "you know mothers just do what they can while they wait for their children to get themselves straightened out."

Namjoon's shoulders set and Tae saw the muscles in his jaw shift.

Something in Tae's stomach burned.

“WE’RE DATING,” she announced, overly loud, holding the topiary for the main table.

Mrs. Park looked up, shocked, as if she’d forgotten someone else was there at all.

Tae moved the topiary to the right, to continue looking at her.

“Us, I mean. Namjoon. And, uh, me.” Tae said, studiously avoiding Namjoon’s face.

Mrs. Park’s long lashes quivered, as she blinked.

Tae held her gaze, the cement planter biting into her palms and feeling heavier by the second.

“oh! “ Mrs. Park said, looking at Namjoon, like she was trying to figure it out.

Tae blinked.

Suddenly, he smiled his big bashful smile.

“Ahhh, you found us out, Mrs Park, it’s….it’s really new, right Taetae?” he says, with a jolt of familiarity that feels like the first time she knocked back a tequila shot.

“r-RIGHT!” she echoes.

But no one is listening to her, Mrs. Park is trilling her faux-congratulations, and Namjoon is bashfully brushing them off, walking over to Tae.

Her brain takes this time to set off every alarm button. Walking TOWARD her!

But he reached out, and took the cement planter from her, with a “here let me help with that, babe.”

Her brain officially turned off.

While he stood there, hands next to hers on the planter, his back to Mrs Park, as Tae’s eyes widened with apology, he winked at her.

A breath-long, blink and you miss it, but very real wink. Then he turned around and asked Mrs. Park how her azaleas were coming in.

Tae took a few breaths. The world seemed to still be moving. Mentally scanning her body, yup she had all her limbs! Wow.

“...sweetheart?” Mrs. Park’s voice drifted through.

“Hmm? Yes?”

“Would you get those folding tables in the garage storage? We need to put them out on the back patio!”

“Yes ma’m!” she said, grateful to escape.

“Oh! I’ll go with you! So you’re not carrying those alone!” Namjoon exclaimed, setting the topiary down, and nodding briefly to Mrs. Park.

“...grEAT! Wonderful!” Tae said weakly. “More hands makes...uh, more hands or whatever!”

---

As soon as the door to the garage closed behind them, Tae scanned him, eyes wide and silent.

Namjoon just walked around, inspecting the edges of the garage, moving wrapped pictures, and old bicycles.

“Hey Tae, do you know where the--” he began, turning to look at her.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out. “Sorry Namjoon! I don’t know if you’re dating someone! Maybe you’re, like, engaged! I’m sorry to your girlfriend! Or boyfriend! I just….sorry.”

His eyes widened during her outburst, and then mellowed out.

He held out an old tricycle for her to hold, while he dug through a pile of junk.

“No worries, Tae. Thanks for saving me back there, I just really don’t know what to say to Mrs. Park, you know? I feel like it’s constantly disappointing her with my ‘nope, still busy with work and being personal disaster to date!’ answer.”

“You’re a disaster?” she repeated, innocently.

He blinked, and dropped a large frame, shooting up a “poof!” of dust.

As they spluttered, Tae coughed out, “sorry, I mean, you really don’t seem like a disaster. You’re always so cool, and interesting and--”

She froze. Why did she always have too many words when she needed none?

Namjoon waved his hands in front of his face, coughing.

“Thanks, that’s...very flattering. But I assure you, the New York literary scene doesn’t think much of goofs who prefer to wander through the woods to schmoozing with novelists at these cocktail parties in crowded bars where you can’t even hear yourself think.”

“Wow. They sound like a bunch of idiots.” she pronounced.

He paused to wipe his eyes, laughing.

“I mean...you’re not wrong? But they’re the idiots who have to publish my work, so.”

He sighed.

“What about you?” he asked, subtly looking over. “You’re not dating anyone?”

He halted, she could have sworn she saw a flush work its way up his neck. “I mean...just a guess! given how you volunteered and all.”

“Nope!” she said, loudly. “I guess I’m just as much of a disaster.”

Setting the frames down, Namjoon turned all the way around, to look at her seriously.

“I don’t think you’re a disaster. But really? No one??”

She curled up, under his gaze.

“No? I mean...I spend all day with kids ages 3 to 5, and then have to lesson plan, which always takes me about twice as long as I think or anyone else, and then when I get home, I have just enough energy to put a piece of ham on some rice and then watch, like….2 episodes of my anime, before passing out.”

She blinked.

“Wow, I guess that DOES sound really sad,” she said.

Namjoon just shook his head like he was defending her honor.

“Nah, I can’t imagine being a teacher. Like...not going crazy seems like the achievement here.”

She smiled, “Oh I don’t know. Watching the light in a kid’s eyes switch on, when they get the phonics, and can sound out a word? It’s pretty much the best thing.”

Realizing he was looking at her, she coughed. “Even if it means that they’re running around yelling “dog! Dog!’ for 2 weeks after.”

He laughed, leaning on a bike. Then his brows crinkled, “But what about your instagram? I still remember that really cool series on...urban landscapes? You did a few months ago? The one with the different barns? How did you even get the exposure on the sky right?”

Sh blinked at him, and he colored slightly.

“Oh! I...didn’t know you paid attention to that! I guess I just go wander around on weekends, you know? It’s not too much. Especially compared to your feed,” she said, digging her foot into the ground

“No, they’re really cool!” he insisted. “Everyone is always taking pictures of New York City, I can’t go a day without seeing shots that people are always taking. It takes real creativity to showcase the best parts of, like, barns in north carolina.”

He paused, and then scratched his head, “sorry, that sounds like I’m belittling it.”

“No!” she said, heady on the knowledge he watched her feed, not that she didn’t pay attention, every free moment, register every single time he liked a photo. “I figure you have your artist friends and stuff to pay attention to? But...you think it’s worth something?”

His eyes widened comically. “Of course! I mean it, Tae. I know you’re really good at being a teacher, but if you ever want to go further in photography, you absolutely have the talent for it.”

Her heart shivered, like a warm breeze blew over it, bringing the scent of faraway Paradise.

“Really? I...don’t know if I’d fit in, in New York though.”

Namjoon snorted, “nah, people are always competing to out-weird each other, but all that happens is everyone looks the same. You’d be a breath of fresh air, Tae.”

She smiled, could feel her heart blossom under his fond gaze.

In the silence, she wondered where her fount of words had disappeared to.

Namjoon cleared his throat.

“I don’t know what we’re going to tell Mrs. Park about these tables.”

“Oh!” said Tae. “I think they’re upstairs in the garage storage.”

Namjoon’s mouth dropped open. “What?? You knew?”

She shrugged “sorry, I was busy! Also you never asked!”

He laughed, “okay but if Hobi asks, you were distracting me, okay?”

“Nooooooo, I can’t deal with Hobi’s disapproval!” she whined.

"They fake-grumbled at each other up the stairs, until they couldn’t hide the smiles.

---

Namjoon insisted they exchange numbers, “because whichever one you have from college is probably wrong, I had to get a new one after dropping mine in a grate literally the first day i moved to New York. yeah, a real Welcome To New York move.”

His eyeroll was the cutest thing she’d seen in a month.

“You should tell people a pigeon stole it,” she said. “Or that you arm-wrestled a Ninja Turtle and lost.”

He looked up, tilting his head amusedly. “You know what? I think I will.”

After dragging the tables to Mrs. Park, they finished getting the patio set up for one of these endless mysterious receptions, they had to go carry dishes from the storage in the attic, and then Tae spent a few hours polishing silver in one of the extra dining rooms, (which only took that long, because she kept making faces into the shiny surfaces.)

She caught a glimpse of Namjoon walking by in the hallway, carrying a box.

“Hey!” she whispered. And then, “Oh. I’m sorry, please don’t die.”

He slowly relaxed, one hand clutched to his heart,

“I gotta get some things in from the car later, key phrase: without Jimin, do you think you could help?”

He blinked. “Sure?”

Tae held up the “ok” sign,

“Ok roger roger, partner. I’ll text you at twenty-four hundred.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows scrunched.

“At….24 o’clock? That’s not a time. You know it just goes back to zero at midnight?”

“Shhhh!!” she gestured at him, “whatever, not all of us remember all the details from Columbo, I’ll just text you!”

He was mouthing, “Columbo?” as she waved him off.

---

That night, she juggled everything around in her arms, to text him, before sneaking out.

“need help with bachelorette moving, meet at my car. SECRET!”

Namjoon showed up, on the grounds, in an old college t-shirt and basketball shorts, with a quizzical look on his face.

“I assume we’re not murdering anyone, but it was unclear.”

Tae gesticulated at him, with her arms full of boxes, which he hurried over to take from her.

“Gotta get supplies up to my guest room while Jimin is asleep! You know she has the circadian cycle of a butterfly.”

Namjoon snorted, then looked curious. “Do butterflies actually sleep lightly?”

Tae looked at him exaspratedly, “I don’t kNOW, Namjoon, but I do know that if we don’t move our butts, the dogs will probably start barking.”

After some deep sneakiness (during which Namjoon tripped into the manicured bushes TWICE) they got through the grounds and back up into the house, and into the guest room.

“So….this is...the bachelorette party?” Namjoon asks, quizzically looking at the box, full of canvases and paint.

“Yup!” Tae answered brightly.

Joon’s face looked carefully blank.

“....is this finger-painting?”

“Oh right,” she rummaged around in the box she had, and produced the wine bottle. “There’s also wine. Because it’s finger-painting for GROWN-UPS.”

The expression flickering across Namjoon’s face is one she recognizes from other people, when one of her ideas is apparently Wrong and she didn’t realize it, and her heart starts to sink a little.

Was it too weird? Oh god, was it not GOOD.

But then he laughed, which her brain filed that away, labeling it “the world’s most adorable seal noise” as a wide smile split across his face.

Namjoon set the box down, and picked up one of the paint tubes.

“This...this is so cool!” he said, turning it over in his hand, “I thought I was going to be carrying in pasties to jump out of cake with.”

His eyes flew open as if he just missed a step on a staircase. “I MEAN. Not that there’s anything wron--”

Tae laughed, “noooo. Waste of a good cake. Paint is a good kind of mess.”

He nodded, and looked at the paint again, “And this way you can create such unique canvases, and personalize them for the bride! Instead of going to one of those godawful paint by numbers places where you have to paint the same painting?”

“ExACTLY!” Tae said, trying to throw her hands in the air, but hampered by the box of supplies. “You get it! Those places are the WORST.” she tried to modulate her enthusiasm, remembering Yoongi’s motto for avoiding social trouble, “always 3 notches less enthusiastic than you feel,”

“Ahem. I mean. You know. I guess they’re popular or whatever.”

Namjoon waved a hand, “no no, I get it. My sister wanted to do that for her birthday, and I went and painted the most dutiful shrubbery the place had ever seen.”

He rolled his eyes.

Tae kept an impeccable straight face.

“A Dutiful Shrubbery? See I’m partial to a Polite Hedge, or maybe a Put-Upon Moon Over Lake.”

Namjoon clasped a hand over his heart. “Nooooo, imagine how the Random Still-life Teapots feel about that!”

“It’s a hard life, Namjoon. They better get used to it.”

“Justice for teapots!”

“Not at myyyyy party!” she sang, snatching the tub of paint from him to toss it back in the box.

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Poor teapots.” he said, with a deeper voice. “What if they just want to be included?”

He seemed much closer than she remembered.

“Maybe...they should have thought of that earlier,” she said.

He shrugged. “sometimes you don’t always see what’s under your nose until you get a different perspective.”

He looked at her, a world shimmering in his eyes. She felt herself wishing again that she spoke their language.

“Guess that’s why I’m a photographer then,” she said, hoping she sounded steady. “The mechanics are one thing but you have to continually practice seeing clearly.”

The silence hung heavy between them. Her stomach churned.

“That and I never had the patience for real oil painting,” she said, in a rush. “Too much fuss. Guess that’s why I’m a dabbler, and teach 3-5 years old during the day.” she added with a shrug.

“Hey, I can sit and put oils on a canvas all day, but I’m fairly sure the toddlers would eat me alive.” he added with an eyebrow quirk.

She grinned. “Yup! they’re a bunch of little cannibals.”

“Guess that makes you….the cannibal queen?”

She laughed loudly, then slapped a hand over her mouth, as they both froze in the twilight light in the dark bedroom, and listened intently to hear if they woke anyone up.

“Why,” she whispered, jostling his shoulder, “worried that I’ll eat you alive?”

His face sharpened. She felt like a piece of steel, drawn to his flint, felt the shower of sparks around them.

“I think you misunderstand my thoughts about that,” he replied, lowly.

“Yeah?” she murmured. “what are your thoughts about that?”

She stepped closer, an itch, a pull. “Most people don’t like the idea of being torn limb from limb.”

His eyes roved over her, and she felt like her skin was on fire.

“Goes to show that most people have no taste whatsoever,” he said, looking down at her, “Maybe it’s good to feel delicious.”

Tae stopped, right in front of him, looking up. His eyes stayed on hers.

“I’ve read that there’s a theory that, right before you die,” he says, “the brain releases a burst of endorphins, creating a temporary euphoria.”

“Awfully high price for euphoria,” she whispered, “Maybe you should avoid that.”

His eyes held hers, as if wavering on a decision. Then he took a deep breath.

“Want to sneak some sweet tea?” he asked, smiling. “I bet it tastes better at night.”

----

He was right, the moonlight made the tea more refreshing, crisp.

He poured it for her, handing her a big glass. Namjoon drank his like he’d just run a marathon.

It was quiet, the wind rustling the trees outside. Peaceful...if it weren’t for whatever this weird energy was, between them.

But before Tae could say anything, she heard giggly whispers down the hall.

“Tae!!” Jimin’s whisper echoed in the wood hallway. “Tae!”

She leaned over in the fancy tall chair, and tried to shush Jimin. Almost overbalancing, before Namjoon grabbed the back with a hand.

Jimin ran forward, flinging her arms around her neck.

“Hobi brought some wine, Mom & Dad are asleep, FINALLY. we have until they wake up.”

Namjoon's brow crinkled, "I mean, aren't we grown ups?"

Tae and Jimin just shot him a look, before Jimin started quietly getting glasses out of the cabinet.

Pulling her head back, Jimin looked at Namjoon, like he’d just robbed a bank, and was on probation. She pointed with a judgmental wineglass.

“Also maybe THEN y’all can TELL ME why my Mom gave me an earful about why didn’t I tell her that my best friend was dating that nice young man that she’s always tried to find a girl for.”

His eyebrows shot up, and looked at Tae.

“Um.” she contributed eloquently.

Jimin held up a hand, “I literally can’t process until I’m holding some Chardonnay but so HELP ME.”

She held out a tiny hand menacingly.

Not 20 minutes later, everyone had a glass, except for Tae, who opted for more sweet tea, and Hoseok was laughing so hard, he was hanging onto the counter.

“Sorry WHAT?” he wheezed. Jimin’s jaw was nearly on the floor.

“Wait wait wait, so WHO’S idea was this?” she asked, looking between them, like she was scouring for clues.

Tae swallowed hard, and then opened her mouth.

“Me.” said Namjoon.

She whirled to look at him. He seemed calm, like it was matter of fact.

“You??” Jimin and Hoseok exploded, before being shushed again.

He scratched the back of his neck, “ahhhh, yeah I’m sorry. You know I love Mrs. Park, but I just….panicked. Tae was so helpful,” he offered helpfully, making purposeful eye contact with her.

Tae blinked, hoping "optimistic blankness" made any of this make sense.

He leaned in comradely, like she was an old friend doing him a favor. “thanks so much, really. I’ll make it up to you,” he said.

She stammered out a “Oh! Uhhh no problem!”

Jimin still looked skeptical, but Namjoon shrugged, knocking back another sip. “I mean, what, it’s just a weekend, and we’re barely talking to anyone, right? It’s all about you guys and your grand fairytale love, I don’t think it’ll even come up?”

“No!!" Jimin whisper-shrieked, "Tomorrow is the attendant’s party, where we’re all going to be at tables, and we’re doing it musical chairs-style, where you rotate, so you can mingle and get to know everyone!”

She looked at them both. “So. you know. Most everyone from the neighborhood will be there. Lots of old classmates. My old piano teacher. Everyone from Mom’s church.”

Namjoon took a deep breath. “Okayyyyy. So.” He looked over at Tae. “Got any plans, chief?”

She held the line on blankness, beginning to think it wouldn't hold up for her.

Tae looked at the couple, where Hoseok was doing a TERRIBLE job of hiding laughter and Jimin looked substantially less amused.

“Soooooo,” Tae said brightly, “since YOU GUYS have been doing this so long. Um. What’s your advice on, uh, being in love?”

Her face flushed deep red. In her peripherals, she caught Namjoon trying to choke discreetly, after chuckling mid-chardonnay.

Hobi cooed, reaching over to boop her nose, “awwwwww Taetae! you precious bon-bon!”

After watching her with eyes like a hawk, Jimin's watchful expression melted, and she pronounced, “Ok I take it back, this is cute.”

She whipped her head over to Namjoon, pointing directly in his face.

“So help me if you embarrass my best friend at ANY point, you better look head over your DAMN heels, in LOVE, or I will pERSONALLY--”

Hobi leaned over and pressed her arm down. “Okay babe, ok, it’s fine, we got it, they got it.”

She murmured threateningly, as Hobi folded her up in his arms.

The look that Hoseok was Namjoon struck her as odd.

“I think...you guys just be yourselves,” he said, thoughtfully.

They both looked at each other with almost spooky synchronicity. Tae took Hoseok’s hand in a solemn manner,

“Hobi you know I love & appreciate you, but you’re VASTLY over-estimating my ability to look natural in a romantic relationship.”

Hoseok shrugged, cheeks already pink from the rose.

“But that’s precisely it, you know? if you tried to just...i dunno, be all goopy, it’ll be obvious that it’s not you?”

He looked down at his glass, “is this STRONGER than I remember?”

Jimin, in the meantime, had climbed out of his lap, and was squarely rummaging around in the custom-made cabinets.

She came up, triumphant, holding a bottle of whiskey.

“Okay! Tea shots for everyone!”

Namjoon turned a faint shade of green, but allowed himself to be pressured into holding a small shotglass of sweet tea & whiskey.

He held his up, and toasted Taehee.

“To being ourselves!”

Hr tongue ran nervously over her lips.

“Uh, ditto!” she echoed.

----

A snapshot of polaroids featuring Yoongi & Seokjin on their roadtrip down from their shared apartment, picking up Jungkook on his college break, and then posing by each McDonald’s he made them stop at for “nuggz”.

The next day, after a slow morning, filled with coffee, eggs, and a few groaning requests to close the blinds, the house began to fill up.

As the rest of the wedding party united, to throw these parties, it was easier to concentrate on the details, like, making sure Jimin’s dress was altered correctly, how many people were coming to the huge rehearsal dinner on the front lawn, where all the silverware would be, and not on obsessing over how close Namjoon stood close to her, when visitors walked through the door.

At least, theoretically it should have been.

But he slipped his hand into hers, as he nodded politely to the neighbor Mrs. Park introduced them to, as “my son in law’s best friend and his adorable girlfriend!”

Tae ducked in a nod to the lady who’s name she’d already forgotten, and the warmth of his hand nearly made her knock over the tray of napkins she was folding.

Another time, it was as they were sorting chopped veggies into trays, and stifling a yawn, she felt herself naturally lean her head on his shoulder. His T-shirt was soft under her cheek, and she could feel his muscles shift under her head, as he swung an arm around her, to steady her.

“Someone’s tiiiired,” came his warm voice, with this hidden rumble she could feel under her cheek. “Poor baby--”

But before she could betray how every blood vessel lit on FIRE at this announcement, Mrs. Park bustled in, with some more relatives behind her. So it was easy to excuse it as “I heard them coming down the hallway! sorry!” but she could have sworn he slid an arm around her waist before that happened.

Later, as a group of them folded programs, (Tae, Jimin, Yoongi, and Jungkook when he was paying attention) they caught them up to speed.

“Oh, so you’re dating Namjoon? Like, the Namjoon you had a crush on all through college?” Yoongi said, nonchalantly.

There was a minor explosion of shushing, as Tae nearly scattered the papers she was meticulously accordion-folding off the heirloom wooden table.

“How did you kNOW” she hissed, folding with a vicious precision.

Yoongi’s gaze didn’t leave his busywork at first, but he just hummed, as if sliding beads onto programs was the Most Important Thing in the world.

“Oh I don’t know Tae, was it the big puppy dog eyes I had to endure witnessing for the ENTIRE 2 semesters of Music Appreciation class I TA’d for, or maybe it was the sonnet you wrote ‘For A Dimpled Man’ that you asked give you feedback on, ‘not as the best literary genius I know but like, as, maybe a friend? Of…dimpled philosophic people? You probably know what they like.”

“You know plenty of people with dimples!” Tae said loudly, with perhaps too much emotion for the circumstances.

“...did you even NEED to take Music Appreciation, Tae?” Jimin asked, distracted by the work in front of her.

“If I’m going to be harassed like this, I resign. Yoongi will have to be maid of honor,” she said, ignoring the squawk from Yoongi, “but it’s okay the flower wreath will look LOVELY on him.” she finished, sticking her tongue out.

"Or was it that you didn't need to take both semesters, like you did?” Jimin cotinued, still ignoring them while folding programs.

“This was 4 years ago, you’re all ridiculous,” sighed Seokjin, appearing behind Yoongi’s shoulder. He tips back a comically large plastic tumbler that has the gold-sparkly words “Mom Boss!” emblazoned on a background of cartoon petunias.

He smacks his lips with a suspiciously large “AAH!” and looks pensively at the tumblr, saying, “They really DO have the best sweet tea in the South, don’t they, Jimin. Refreshing.”

Jimin frowns.

“Kim Seokjin” she says, “There better be the same amount left in the whiskey bottle hidden under the sink, as there was when I left it last night.”

Jin just waggles his eyebrows, and sails off enigmatically.

“Mrs. PARK, YOUR TEA IS DIVINE!” he hollers to the enclosed garden patio, where she’s gathering MORE flowers together for place-settings.

She smiles warmly and gestures him to come over and give his opinion on the roses, drooping over the arrangement.

“He just gets away with ANYTHING, doesn’t he?” Tae marvels, open-mouthed, as he sees Jin affect his best “thinking really hard about this” posture, which proceeds all of his best BS work.

Jimin’s face crinkles up with laughter, the next thing they hear are squeaky giggles floating over from the patio, where Jin is now bent over, smacking his own thigh at a joke, and Mrs. Park is leaning on his shoulder, a wide smiles on her face.

Tae looked back down at her work, chewing her lip, while she focused on the accordion folds. Her eyes kept darting to the corridors, hoping their loud conversation didn’t echo down the wood-floor hallways.

“So, uh, where’s Namjoon?” she asked, hoping to sound chill.

From the sound of Yoongi’s subtle cough, she failed.

“He’s helping my Dad get the lumber from the hardware store, to fix the gazebo floor?”

Jimin’s lips quirked in response to Tae’s sudden flush. She continued, like the compact, cute demon with a southern lilt that she was.

“He’s apparently he’s really good with wood?” she said, calmly folding. “Hobi tried to tease him about his ‘sexy Jesus side-hustle’, but he just blushed and said all the sanding and careful attention to detail gets his mind in a good place.”

“Then Hobi cooed so hard, he demanded an immediate sample of his work, and after the cyclone I don’t exactly remember what happened, but I’m pretty sure I ordered a custom coaster set,” said Yoongi, amused.

Jimin sighs one of her delicious petit-four sighs. “Just carrying all that lumber...you know I sure hope they don’t get overheated. Namjoon isn’t really the type to take his shirt off, but with the rising humidity, the construction boys around here don’t really find a way around it!”

Her hand slipped. That’s what it was. The table was crooked. Gravity happened to lean on this side of the room.

Tae’s entire accordion fold was ruined.

“Mmm maybe you can get Delicate Hands McGee to fix it.” Yoongi crowed.

“Shut up Yoongi. Folding is tricky. Lots of...thumbs. Whatever.” she said.

His gleeful smile showed zero regret.

“You’re all demons and I cast you OUT” she said, while Jimin squawked. “I’m an ANGEL, TAKE IT BACK!!”

---

Tables arranged on the back patio, the rest of the forest behind them, with decorative numbers in the center, a pile of presents with ribbon, the soft sunset light beginning to illuminate golden hour next to the pool.

Tae surveys the patio all decked out, and adjusted her handmade nametag, with the number of her “group” that would be “rotating” through the tables.

“I’m not a stewardess, and I already know the attendants, so why do we need this?” she mumbled to herself.

“Okay, so,” Namjoon says, suddenly at her shoulder. She would have jumped, but she steadied her breathing so she just wobbled. A bit.

“Do we have a plan?" he asked, crisply, eyes surveying the tables, and glossy pool like a soldier gazing on the battlefield.

She looks over at him, raising her eyebrows, like this is news to her.

“What, is there a rulebook for this kind of thing?” she asked.

He looks slightly panicked at the thought of there being no rulebook.

"c'mon it's going to be fine, you big worrywart," she said, clapping hr hand on his shoulder. "what happened to the 'oh we probably won't even have to mention it' swagger Namjoon who was knocking back tea shots last night?"

He winced, "ugh don't remind me. Also, the imminent reality of having to talk to," he checked over his shoulder, but no one was there, "roughly a whole GARDEN PARTY of well-meaning and nosy ladies my Mom's age is what HAPPENED," he whispered. "you don't walk into that thing unarmed!"

"This is what I appreciate about you, Namjoon, you’re so chill.” she said, sticking her tongue out.

His face flashes through "surprise", "affront", and then settles into a glower.

Smiling, she booped his nose. “See? Gotcha.”

The way his eyes flutter in confusion is so lovely, it gives her heart wings.

“Hey now,” he said, gathering her hands in his, flustered. “So….I was thinking about, like. Basics?

“Basics?” She looked down at their joined hands, and said, “well, we appear to have hand-holding down.”

He blinked again, like she kept stepping on his toes while they danced.

“What am I comfortable with?” she asked, “Is that what you're asking? Hmmmmm, so I think I’m probably more of a touchy person than you are, but as long as we’re not bed-sharing” (Namjoon had a sudden violent cough spasm) “then that should be fine?”

She looked up at him. Something about how flustered he was gave her butterflies. But the good kind, the kind you visit a conservatory to see.

He cleared his throat, and then looked at her. His eyes were dark with challenge.

“You’re a touchy person?” he says, “okay, so this is fine?”

He slid his hand around her back and curled his fingers around her hip, pulling her to him.

Flush with his side, she could feel his belt press into her hip, feel the slight damp of his linen shirt against her sundress, where late summer heat was already affecting him, get a whiff of his cologne, mixed with an earthy tang that made her light-headed.

All the blood in her body had a traffic jam in her face.

She hiccuped. He grinned.

Looking at her face, still holding her, he asked, amusedly,

“So. Can we rehearse our story?”

She looked out at the tables again. The cars were pulling up in front of the house, and Tae saw some well-dressed older people getting out of cars.

“This shindig, it's like musical chairs, right?” Tae asked, eyes flitting over the scene.

He paused, and nodded.

“And it’s mainly older people we don’t know from Jimin’s hometown who we’ll never see again?”

He paused, and nodded again. Tae caught a glimpse of people starting to filter through the house.

She pushed back from his grasp (her body feeling instantly colder) and turned to straighten out Namjoon’s nametag, and smooth his collar out. His chest was warm under her hands. Tugging on his collar, she tilted his face to hers, and affected her best doe-eyed face.

“So…who says we need a consistent story?”

Namjoon got two blinks in, before Mrs. Park opened the patio door behind him, and announced “Everyone! Head to the table with the number on your nametag!”

Tae winked, before leaning up on his tiptoes, and brushing her face next to his cheek, as if kissing him a sweet farewell, “Follow my lead,” she whispered.

Grasping his hand, she tugged his bewildered self forward, laughing.

---

The first table had a smattering of old neighbors, a Sunday school teacher, and then Seokjin.

“So, how did you meet?” Mrs. Petersen, a kindly woman in a butter-yellow cardigan asked.

“College,” Namjoon began politely.

He shot a look to Tae, like he was daring her to alter it.

Alright big boy, two can play at this game.

“Ah yes,” Tae sighed, dramatically. “It was a library crime that brought us together!”

Th expression on his face was priceless.

“Remember, Joonie-poo?” she said. “I was holding the book he needed for a project hostage, because it was overdue. But I was finishing my paper!”

“I don’t remember it being THAT dramatic,” Namjoon said, a forced laugh.

“He had to track me down! He showed up at the doorstep of my dorm, all cute and rumpled and overtired. I felt bad. But as I told him then,” she says, reaching over to grasp his hand, “he makes such a cute literary policeman, right baby?”

She squeezed his hand, batting her eyes at him. He smiled so hard, his eyes disappeared.

“Mmmmmm!” he hummed with a forced tone, before he cut his food, and shoved a large piece in his mouth. “Isn’t the salmon amazing??” he asked.

Seokjin looks confused, his eyes ping-ponging back and forth between them, before realization slowly dawned.

“And you know the bEST part,” Jin says, leaning forward, inserting himself, “Tae was an elementary education major, and Namjoon studied, what was it, literature? Philosophy?”

Namjoon looked affronted, “actually a double-major in English & Metaphysics with a minor--”

“Boring dead people stuff, yes,” he said, with a wave of his hand, “so you and Tae didn’t even have any overlapping classes.”

With a smirk, he took another sip of wine. “We all said it was miraculous. A fairytale! In that it seemed so…fictional.”

Namjoon’s eyes had begun to narrow in Jin’s direction.

“Ahhh, but we had Music Appreciation together,” Tae said smoothly. “He even once started a study group, just because I mentioned I needed one!”

This was absolutely true. Well, in reverse. Taehee had never admitted that she’d loudly scheduled a study group with the whole class, just so she could hopefully get some time with the quiet senior, because she didn’t share any classes with him. But after weeks of no conversation after their library encounter, they'd friended each other in Instagram, and she was sick of waiting.

But then she’d turned up at the coffeeshop, and no one came. Except a bashful Namjoon, who turned up 5 minutes late, bags askew, apologizing for student government running late.

She was impressed that he came at all. Maybe he wasn’t doing as well as she thought?

Pulling out her notes, she read through them, and he quizzed her on definitions (during which she was so excited to prove that she was smart that she forgot to falter in them, so….they were done awfully fast.)

“So what can I help you with?” she asked, pencil out, ready to quiz him.

He’d just flushed slightly.

“I...ah...actually I study better alone, sorry. I just heard you say that you studied best with someone else, and needed a study group.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Wait so you don’t need this at all?”

He looked apologetic. “I usually go over my notes in my room, so I can focus. Visual learner.”

He pointed at his notes, all highlighted, and marked up.

“Those look really great!” she said, and then stopped, seeing her own messy scattered pages next to them.

Her stomach sank like a brick. Oh. This had been a terrible idea. Of course he was helping her, he was a wonderful guy, known for helping students who weren’t as cool or put together as others.

God, Tae, she thought in a hot flash of realization, why not just come up with a powerpoint called, “Taehee Is A Mess & A Great Example Of What You Don’t Want In A Partner” to save everyone some time?

“Sorry!” she blurted out, “I...thanks! Um. Your explanation was really helpful!” she thought if she looked at him, her eyes might start watering and then she’d really have to change her name and move to Iceland, “But I really don’t want to waste your time, I’ll be fine if I go over these, um, notes myself then!”

She tried to gather her notes up, cringing as they slid everywhere on the table.

He colored pink, like he wanted to say something, but just started forward, to help her gather them, and then he awkwardly gathered up his things and they left separately.

Tae had been so embarrassed to make him come out to fix her sloppy studying, that she could barely talk to him for a week.

Not even when she walked by him in the art building, sitting against the wall, as he let their music professor’s toddler doodle on his Philosophy notes, while their professor ran to the restroom. He waved at Tae. Th toddler smushed a stuffed giraffe firmly into his midsection. Tae got a smile back in.

When Tae finished telling the story, (saying that he'd initiated the study group, and they'd stayed there all night) the Petersens sat back in their chairs.

“And they STILL didn’t go out,” Jin leapt in.

Tae glowered in his direction. It was hard to spin a tale when he kept leaping in and telling the truth.

Jin just sighed into his wine, “I swear, you two were like two awkward kids trying to high-five and missing each other.”

“But, you volunteered because you liked her, right?” asked Mrs. Petersen anxiously

Namjoon took a drink. He looked over at Tae, curiously intense.

“I mean, when the cutest person in class, who you’ve been trying to think of a way to talk to for months, asks you for help...what do you do?”

Tae blinked. The cutest? Months? Wait WHAT.

Namjoon continued, angling slightly toward Petersens, but with

“She always asked the most interesting questions, like ‘do you think Beethoven’s Ninth has anything to do with his father issues,’ or “Why is it called Rhapsody in Blue, when it’s obviously pink?’ I mean...I didn’t really have a CHOICE, I had to spend time with her!”

Mrs. Petersen looked so happy, as if it was her own grandchildren.

“Wait a minute,” said Mr. Petersen, leaning forward in his chair, “so...when did you actually ask her out then?”

Everyone at the table looked at them. The tinkling from the eating of the hors d’ouerves stopped.

They looked at each other.

“It was an accident!” crowed Jin. Several heads swerved to look at him.

“A bunch of us set up a time for Taehee to meet Jimin, and then I set up a time for Namjoon to meet up with me, and then when they both showed up at the restaurant, we texted them that we weren’t letting them out until they told each other about the crushes they had on each other.

Tae detected the faint crease of disbelief in Mrs. Petersen’s face.

“It was VERY dramatic,” said Tae, butting in authoritatively. “We spent the whole evening talking about how crazy our friends were so…” she glanced over at Namjoon.

With only a hairsbreadth of hesitation, she reached over and took his hand. His upward palm grasped hers naturally. He even slotted his fingers inbetween hers.

Natural.

“We realized we had more fun talking about how they were crazy and that it was ridiculous, than either of us had going on an actual date, in a long time.” he finished.

Tae smiled.

“Well! What a thrilling story!” Mrs. Petersen said, actually clapping. “I’m amazed Jimin and that nice Hoseok--Hoh suk, right? Am I getting it right? Anyway, I’m amazed they beat you to the altar!”

Seokjin swallowed his chardonnay wrong, and about sprayed it across the table, while laughing, which provided the needed distraction, before the bell rang, to switch tables.

Taehee checked her card, “Okaaayy, turns I’m--” she looks up, “going to a different table than you!”

As she waved a friendly salute though, Namjoon took her hand, rested his other hand lightly on her waist, and pressed his lips to her cheek.

She froze, her entire body flushing like someone kickstarted the hot water pipes in the middle of winter.

Like a smooth boyfriend, like the kind of thing that happens and all the other girls scream about it, because he’s so cool and this is happening to YOU! hOLY CATS! screamed her brain.

“See you, baby,” he said, quietly. Almost…too quietly for anyone to hear.

Time dilated, her feet stuck to the ground, by the time she registered another breath, she saw his satisfied smirk in the distance.

“Uhhh, bye, honey bunches of oats!!” she called out to him, loudly. He just waved.

“Oh how SWEET!” cooed Seokjin, sticking his tongue out. “It’s ALMOST like no one is a filthy liar!”

--

The ensuing round of tables was more entertaining than any round of charades Taehee had played in a long time.

“It was a thrift store bazaar,” Taehee said, clutching her chest, “you know he has the most excellent taste. He thrifts ALL our clothes, can’t bear it if it’s not recycled.”

“Huh,” said Mr. Han, “Namjoon said you fell in love with his...what was it honey? Custom wooden wastepaper baskets?”

“Ah, yes,” she said, “he was selling them there, at his booth. His one weakness. He collects them you know!”

As people shuffled to their next destination, Yoongi was glowering at her. He moved to sit next to her.

“This is like one of those awful games where someone starts a story, and then you can only see the last sentence” muttered Yoongi in her ear.

“I know, isn’t it great?” she whispered back. “I’m pretty sure I convinced her entire go-stop club that I’m half-Icelandic!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “you’re hopeless.”

“Takes one to knoooowww oonnnee,” she crooned.

At the fifth table, Tae got emotional talking about the long journey she made toward crafting the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and how Namjoon was the campus food critic who was her nemesis-turned-love.

She was pretty sure Mrs. Martinez got teary-eyed.

Seokjin passed her on the way to table 6, and whispered with glee, “Namjoon said you fell in love when he re-set the broken bone in OSCAR!”

“My cactus!?” Tae whispered.

Namjoon walked up behind him, and leaned in, whispering “you said you love animals!”

She tried to hold back a hysterical giggle, “I also love Gucci, that doesn’t mean I have a closet full! I don’t have money for a pet allowance in an apartment!”

The set to Namjoon’s mouth and eyebrows should have told her to lay off but it encouraged her more?

Jin stage-whispered: “I THINK I MUST EXEUNT STAGE LEFT.” and swept away.

She reached up and poked Namjoon’s dimple.

He just stood there, hands at his side, blinking, as she giggled. Looking down at his hand, he intoned, “So. my precious flower. I believe we’re at the same table again.”

Tae cleared her throat, took her finger out of his (adorable) face valley, and bit down on her smile, “ahhhh. thank you, Peaches.”

The look Hobi was already giving them, while sitting next to Jimin’s old piano teacher, was priceless.

“Ms. Lincoln! I’ve heard so much about you!” Namjoon said, with perfect manners.

She had kind eyes, Tae noted, smiling and nodding and murmuring pleasantries about Jimin’s piano playing, as they dug into the tiny lava cakes for dessert.

But Namjoon held up a hand, “Let me just pre-mpt your question,” he said, nodding to her and gesticulating at Tae, who froze with a huge mouthful of cake.

“How I met and fell in love this delicate creature? I assume you are dying to know. It was nightime. A local Trader’s Joes. We both went for the salami at the deli at the same time,” he said.

Emitting a noise truly only made by dying animals, Tae grabbed her napkin desperately, barely covering her mouth before she exploded.

Concerned parties next to her patted her back, offering water as she waved them off, halting, snorting, coughing bits of lava cake back out of nasal passages.

“I always said,” she wheezed, after taking a substantial drink, eyes streaming, “since I was little, I dreamed of a man who has firm opinions about his cold cuts!”

Her voice slide up an octave by the end of that sentence, and she pressed her napkin to her mouth again.

Namjoon, face perfectly straight, just nodded serenely. “Sandwich Night in our house is sacred,” he emphasized.

Hobi’s eyes darted back and forth between them, as Tae nodded through another coughing fit, looking like he was was either going to fall over from shock, or crack in half from galactic laugh he was holding in.

He opted for a slightly insane look at Tae, and then beamed his smile at Mrs. Lincoln,

“They’re our...special friends,” he says. “Honestly,” he shoots Namjoon a look, “if you couldn’t tell, they’re made for each other.”

But the heavyset older woman’s shoulders were shaking with mirth, and she waved Hobi off,

“Oh bless you child, I haven’t laughed this hard in a day.”

Her mahogany curled hair shook, as she cleared her throat, grabbing Namjoon’s hand and squeezing it intently.

“You both remind me of my husband and I,” she said, warmly, looking between them both, “We were both a little out of the ordinary, and it by no means a smooth ride. Lord, sometimes he was, pardon me, a stubborn ass, but…” she sighed, “he was one of a kind.”

Namjoon looked slightly stunned.

“And he made ME feel like like I wasn’t ordinary either. Or,” she mused aloud, looking a Tae, “maybe it was just the sense that we could be extraordinary together.”

She squezd their hands too firmly, again, eyes shiny. “Don’t let go of that, kids!”

She settled for another firm shake of Namjoon’s hand, nodding.

“We won’t,” he says, oddly firm, “I won’t.”

Tae just nodded like a puppet caught in a breeze. Hoseok’s eyes had gotten more back and forth play than if he’d been watching Wimbledon.

“So!...Pianos!” he chirped. He saved the day by turning the conversation to more ordinary things, and they got through the rest of the evening.

It wasn’t until after the guests had been thanked and sent away, that Tae had the first inkling things might not be hunky-dory, as she she saw Jimin walking over, crisply, sundress swishing in the wind, with a face full of MURDER.

She’d snagged Namjoon, by the arm, who’s face looked like a dog being disciplined, and was hauling him over.

Tae piled a bunch of silverware in her arms, trying to look busy, as Jimin leaned over the table with a poison-tipped smile.

“Taaaeee, can I ask you a question?”

“Oh gosh I would love to, Minnie, but I’ve just got so many….plates and..forks??” Tae said, gesturing her arms like she was cradling a baby.

Jimin leaned in, her whisper exploding,

“Guys, I love you but what the FLIP is going on?”

They blinked, made eye contact, blinked again.

“Whatever do you mean?” Namjoon asked, flatly.

“Why Mrs. Petersen asked WHERE I found my EXOTIC friends, and all this stuff about...peanut butter and salami and then your fated love and--”

“Sounds memorable!” Tae blurted out, at exactly the same time as Namjoon said, “I’m sorry.”

Their heads swiveled to her, in a duo expressions of slight shock.

“Just,” she said carefully, “if I heard your description right, it sounds like you threw a party that everyone will be talking about for a while!”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, but paused. She looked between them in a measuring way, as if she was a detective.

“okay very smooth but, If you guys aren’t taking this seriously, and if this gets in the way of anything…” she says, pointing, looking like an especially menacing kitten.

They both nod, solemnly, and Namjoon even takes her hand and bows, dramatically.

“Your wish is our command, fair lady,” he intones, with the perfect amount of cheese.

Jimin accepts the fawning, with a slightly regal look, fighting the smile on her face.

“You’re a shameful flatterer, Kim Namjoon, but I’ll allow it, if you help us gather up the rest of these plates.”

He straightens up, and nods every bit a gentlemen. A fork falls out of Tae’s arms.

“Go on! Get on with it!” she says, waving them back to it.

Her eyes pause on Tae’s, and she spots the secret shimmer they always had when Jimin is getting away with something MASSIVE that she’s excited about. It makes her stomach drop.

Please don’t root for us to fall in love, she whispers mentally (despite her and Jimin testing out telepathy and teleknesis as roomies in college and reluctantly deciding it did not work for them.)

“See you!” she trills, before swanning off.

Namjoon blew out a breath.

“So. The finger-painting party better be EPIC,” he says.

Tae’s mouth curls into the “welp” line, as she blows a breath out and nods. “...yup.” she agrees.

They work to gather plates quietly, he hands them over into her stack that she holds precariously. Tae deposits them on a cart and returns.

It's good teamwork.

As if reading her mind, Namjoon huffs a laugh. "It's too bad we only have perjury to do together," he says.

Tae just laughs and cocks her head, "I dunno, what's your schedule like? I could fit some petty larceny in before noon tomorrow?"

But as the silence falls, she can't let go of the question nagging in her mind.

“So...” she said, lingering over the plates, “was that true? When you said you didn’t even need the class?”

He nodded, calmly stacking, in his frustratingly competent way.

“I...thought it was required?” she asked, suddenly feeling a strange wave of shame for bringing it up.

Why would you do *two semesters* when you were always carrying max credits, and in student government, if you didn’t even need the class?” she feels vibrating between them.

He paused. The setting sun draped over his face, making his cheeks glow. Sometimes his beauty shocked her, made it hard to look at him, hard to breathe.

He swallows, the slightest hint of strain obvious.

“Sometimes there is more to life than just what is required, you know?” he says with the tiniest creak.

Did you do it for me? Did you do it for ME?? her brain repeats in a shrill voice. Her eyes search out his posture, for clues, but he just keeps clearing tables, avoiding her eyes.

Once they’ve gathered everything, though he pauses, at the foot of the steps to the house.

He turns to look back over his shoulder. His eyes settle on her, and Tae is suddenly aware of how the ends of her hair brush her shoulders, aware of her thrift store sundress, how the skirt swishes around her calves, slightly longer than what is stylish.

“Besides,” he says, nonchalantly, “You didn’t need the class either.”

The door creaked shut behind him.

In the silence, as Tae stood, armful of folded tablecloths, in the growing twilight, groaning loudly, and asked what she got herself into.

---

A snapshot of everyone standing in formation, wearing mismatched clothes, but standing where the bridesmaids & groomsmen would be. Hobi wearing bright orange slacks.

The rehearsal went well. Even though Jimin had altered Hobi’s vows to include “I promise to let you get rid of any one of my wardrobe items on our anniversary from now until forever” on the SPOT, and Jungkook got so nervous that he power-walked bridesmaid Stacy too fast to the narthex, and had to circle back around and try again while Yoongi nearly fell out of the organ loft, where he was playing the piano.

But it was the rehearsal dinner was amazing.

The Parks had the big tent set up on their front lawn, fairy lights strung up in the trees lining the drive. It was magical.

Tae and Namjoon were next to each other, but the lead table was family only this time (thank God) so they sat in relative obscurity. She doesn’t know how the hand-holding happened then, if someone walked by and waved, so she grasped his while making a point, or if he opened his hand and wiggled his fingers, but by the time the mic was brought out for family speeches, her hand was entwined in his, on the table between them.

They dug into the ridiculously tender leg of lamb, while listening to the Mr. Jung’s beautiful speech, saying how proud he was of Hoseok, while Hobi beamed wetly and discreetly coughed a few times to get through it. He said how much they loved Jimin, and how Dawon was already thrilled to assert her older sister privileges. Between everyone, Tae wasn’t sure how many more Feelings she could handle.

Namjoon laughed loudly at each Hoseok anecdote, sniffed suspiciously loudly at a few, but kept a firm grasp of her hand.

His fingers threaded through hers, his thumb absently tracing shapes on the side of her palm. It was terrible, how well his hand knew hers already. How her body followed his touch around, with a little spotlight of awareness, as if eager for a conductor who could play this symphony in his sleep was worse.

She made faces at Jungkook through the rest of the speeches, just to stay present.

He scrunched his face up dramatically while sticking his tongue out, earning a swat from Seokjin, which was also a wonderful bonus.

Jimin and Hobi were the clear stars as it should be, though. They created a softly glowing bubble of love, with their entwined hands, how Jimin subtly lounged against Hoseok, how he laughed and nudged Jimin, pointing, how she nodded, while smiling at him, instead of whatever he was pointing at.

“God, they’re so perfect for each other,” Tae breathed aloud.

“Hm?” Namjoon intoned, looking over from his food.

“Didn’t mean to say it out loud, just have you noticed how our friends are the world’s perfect couple and ruining the idea of Love for any and all future generations?”

She paused, slightly ashamed of how frank those words were.

But instead of pulling back in horror, or saying, “oh NO” or “nahhh, you’re overreacting,” or “be a better friend!” Namjoon just let out a chuckle, and said,

“I know, it’s awful. With this example, can you imagine how it’ll be for their kids to date?”

Tae felt a forbidden giggle bubble up.

“Like, ‘hey Dad! I’d like you meet Eugene, he’s perfectly Adequate, which are the expectations I have left after watching yours and Dad’s love story unfold.”

She snorted and lowered her voice to pitch in,

“‘Hey Mom, you blasted all expectations for physical skill level AND interpersonal support out of the war, so this is Ji-eun, an accountant. It’s the only profession LEFT that you guys haven’t mastered!”

Namjoon snorted, equally ungainly.

Maybe this was actually a great idea to have a partner-in-crime for this, Tae thought, this would all work out fine.

And then Jungkook wiped his palms on his khakis and got up for his attempt at a speech, which involved taking the microphone, saying, “Hobi, PLEASE take my big sister away,” to much laughter. But it ended with him telling an anecdote of how he’d whined his way into getting a telescope for a long-ago Christmas, even though he didn’t know how it worked. So Jimin sat up at nights in the backyard with him, helping him focus it, and teaching him the names of the constellations.

“So...now, I can’t imagine navigating in a world that wasn’t framed by her.”

He paused to clear his throat, and Tae’s eyeballs suddenly feel very hot.

“The best thing I can wish for you,” he began, voice audibly trembling, “is that you would be those guiding lights for each other…and when you falter, that you teach each other the names of the constellations, so you always have a way to point each other up.”

Jungkook’s tears were visible as well as audible by the end, but so were everyone else’s. Jimin got out of her seat and choked out a “you big dUMMY” before hug-tackling him. Hobi got up and enfolded them both in a serene group hug, leaning over to press a kiss to Kook’s head.

Tae felt a squeeze of her hand, which brought her back to reality.

Namjoon was shaking a napkin to her, without looking over, his own eyes red-rimmed and glistening.

She grabbed it and blew her nose, nudging him with her elbow.

“Ya big softie” she whispered wetly. “Nerd.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have terrible allergies,” Namjoon tried to whisper back, but it came out more like a sad honk.

“Allergic to truuueee looooovvveeee,” Tae shot back, her own view of the festivities swimming.

He coughs, mockingly, like a plague victim, “oh no, you’re right. Which, after this weekend, I’m not long for this world.”

She just makes a solemn face. “I’ll weep buckets at your funeral,” she promises.

Yoongi leans over and stage-whispers, “we can hear all this gross flirting from across the table and some of us are trying to keep our food DOWN.”

Tae just sticks her tongue out.

The rest of the time was dancing, i.e.: Jungkook putting on his “Heavy Jamz” playlist and claiming the dance floor, which had already been put down in preparation for tomorrow’s reception.

While the “younger generation” as Seokjin imperiously termed them, crowded onto the floor, doing some kind of Fortnite monstrosities Tae ferried things to and from Jimin, fixed tablecloths, smilingly answered questions from her family, and produced about a bucketload of tissue for Hobi.

She hovered by Jimin, who kept being pulled one way and the other, trying to get her attention.

“So! Jimin!” she said, grasping her hands and tugging her back, “it’s time for your pre-wedding party!! Bachelorette finger-painting! And wine!”

When Jimin turned to face her, Ta could already see the way her face fell some.

“Oh Tae! That sounds...lovely, honest. You’re the best. But,” she turns to look at her mother, standing by the entrance of her tent, in her finery, waving Jimin over.

“Augh, do you think….we could do that in a minute? Mom just…there’s apparently this trunk of wedding stuff from Grandma she needs to go through with me, like which pendants am I wearing tomorrow, and I don’t know why she brought this up NOW but--”

Tae’s face falls a little, but she remembers how important this his, how Jimin’s family was not the greatest at respecting her boundaries, but...how they meant everything to her.

“Hey! Hey look at me,” Tae said, tugging her hand, as the rest of the guests swirled around.

Jimin blinked, her breath still coming a little faster.

Taehee cupped her cheeks, and held eye contact until Jimin’s large eyes met hers and stilled.

“It’s not big deal, it’s just a little thing I had planned, with all of us from school. You go do however much of this you need to but...make sure it’s what YOU want, okay?”

She can feel Jimin nod, between her palms.

“Text me if you need me,” Tae repeats. Another nod.

She dropped her hands, but before Jimin could flit off, she grabbed her wrist.

“Oh, do you mind if Jungkook comes? He texted me. With several begging emojis.”

Jimin tilted her head.

“Is there going to be any….” she leaned, “...any dick stuff?” she whispered.

Tae shook her head, “God no. No. I mean. Seokjin WILL be there but--”

Jimin just laughed and smiled, “okay phew, okay sure! that’s great, babe!” Th lights illuminated her smile, “I’m so happy to hang out with everyone!! See you in….some hours? I guess? Idk I’ll text you.”

After blowing an air kiss, she’d floated off.

Tae blew out a big breath, surveying the somewhat deflated circus tent-like surroundings.

Not that she felt bereft, but…it was okay. She was getting married. Oh boy.

Before she could formulate her regret at not drinking the champagne at dinner, she spotted Namjoon, standing slightly in the shadows at the tent entrance, holding a bottle at his side.

His jacket was gone, sleeves rolled up, khakis cuffed, and he was barefoot. The light made his skin look even more golden than usual.

Holding up 2 empty glasses, he toasted her,

“Wanna hang out in my special Not-Getting-Married-Tomorrow Club?”

Tae grinned.

“‘Fraid I don’t qualify,” she said, walking over, pausing to tug her heels off, “I’m eloping to Mexico straight after the ceremony.”

His eyebrow raised politely, as he handed her a flute, “ah! How exciting. May I ask who the lucky person is?”

Tae sighed imperiously “Oscar wants to make it official. Tired of being a house-cactus without the perks.”

Namjoon just nodded sagely, while unfolding his crazy long body to sit on the sloping grass hill.

“Lucky cactaceae,” he said.

After an awkward fumble with the champagne, and an explosion that brought a yelp out of him that sent Tae into conniption giggles, he brushed off his pants, with a “good thing these are done!” and then held it out, to fill her glass.

“So...you sure...you aren’t supposed to be marrying her tomorrow?” Namjoon asked, in his nonchalant tone of voice that Tae knew was anything but.

Finding a patch of cool, dark patch of grass, Tae spread out, letting her laughter weigh her back into the ground,

“Jimin?? And me?”

She caught a glimpse of his face, quiet, without judgment, out of the corner of her eye, as she looked at the stars above. How could he know?

The silence stretched between them as Tae inhaled, letting the cool breeze fill up her lungs and brush down her body.

“Jimin WAS the first person I told," she said, slowly. Namjoon just stayed quiet. Something in her gut trusted him.

"When I realized I…probably was not straight. What did I say? Gosh, something effective like “I know we both love Easy A, but I think I like Emma Stone a LOT, like a LOT. Like an amount my Mom would find distressing?’’ while sobbing.”

Despite how deadly serious it felt at the time, Tae can’t hold the giggle back. Namjoon just folds his lips in, and quirked an eyebrow, like he was desperately trying to stay respectful.

“Who among us could resist her rendition of Pocketful Of Sunshine?” he intoned gravely.

“I KNOW, RIGHT?: she said, sitting straight up again. Setting the glass down, she gestured with her hands, “SO, so I tell Jimin this, and like, I love her but I’m so worried this will ruin our friendship?" she inclines hr head to Namjoon, expecting him to understand,

Namjoon nods, remembering their tiny conservative school, remembering the layers of identity and ice and shifting and melting, and how it's hard to find yourself while maintaining an image. But how everyone found pockets, safe people, just to even discuss the idea of the possibility of it with.

“But then Jimin just comes over and,” Tae clambers over, in front of him. The grass scratches her knees, but she doesn’t care. Namjoon lifts a hand to keep her from overbalancing into his lap.

Affecting her best wide-eyed genuine Jimin face, Tae cups Namjoon’s face, and intones,

“Taetae, I love you no matter what, and if I loved Emma Stone the same amount as you, I would marry you yesterday, but ask me again when my lovely Hobi dies of stress one day, so together we can be lesbian widows.”

Namjoon’s eyes get progressively wider throughout this, until it culminated in a shocked laugh.

The laughter flows from him and bubbles up in her, easy mirth flowing through them, as Tae rolls back off, to splay on the ground.

“So! Naturally I just kissed her nose, and said ‘Jimin, my precious butterfly fairy angel, that’s not how ANY orientation works, not even the school kind in an assembly room,’ and then we got CLICHE white wine wasted, and she found my refusal to marry her SO upsetting that I had to call Hobi, and he patiently gave her water, and nodded sagely as she firmly described to him his eventual death and how ‘Taetae needs to get married so whenever THEY die, we can be lesbian widows TOGETHER.”

Tae can hear him wheezing.

“Please tell me this is going in to your speech tomorrow,” Namjoon asks, wiping an eye.

“Oh no,” she says, “you’re getting the Patreon version. Subscriber’s-only. Actually, I mant to say, like...don’t tell anyone?”

He turns to her, and nods, solemnly.

“If it’s the Patreon version,” he says, “then I need to pay you! Or give you something you want.”

The champagne and sudden honesty have made her loose-limbed and warm. His eyes slip over her face, and she hopes she’s not misreading this.

Everything in her wants to reach out, grasp his shirt, and pull him over on top of her, just to discover what it would be like to DO the music video in her head.

“A story,” she whispers, “tell me why you and Hobi are best friends.”

Can she sense a hint of disappointment in his face?

“Fair trade!” she sing-songs, kicking her legs back and forth.

Namjoon looks at a spot farway and is quiet for a bit, before a smile tugged at his lips.

“Well...he really helped me out, in a time when….I was basically a failure-shaped pile on the floor. Excuse me, I wasn’t finding the best way to process my goals, as my therapist would say.”

She couldn’t help the snort.

“He wouldn’t take any of my bullshit.” he sighs. “whenever we’d be out on a weekend, because he dragged me out of my human laundry basket, I’d stare at the sidewalk, and say something like, ‘Hobi, isn’t it wild that in the perspective of history, our lives are as significant as that lonely oak leaf?’ and he’d give me that look like I spat in his Existential MIlkshake, and say, “Joon-ah, your avocado eggs benedict are getting cold. Do you want history to reflect that you wasted $13 on the brunch special that you didn’t EAT?”

A giggle bubbled up from in her stomach. Their laughter echoed slightly. SHe knew exactly how Hobi’s face got, when he had no patience.

“He walked the beginner’s circuit around the park with me to make sure I got into the sunshine, did my laundry when my therapist was tweaking the right meds for me….yeah, he pulled MORE than his share of weight, but...he never made me feel like a burden.”

Tae knew that silence.

“He’s a pain in the butt, but in all the right ways, you know?” Namjoon said, with a faraway look, “He’s professional. He loves people well. He gave me the confidence to follow my dreams.”

He paused, “and by that I mean, he firmly shoved me out of the nest, by getting me the contacts of a few journals, and told me to get a place in NYC, when all this wedding business was becoming official.”

Tae sloshed the dregs of champagne on her face, while giggling.

Namjoon leaned back on his arms, and stared at the stars. “He’s the best person I know, and...getting to….see someone like Jimin, who brings light to everyone, bring that kind of light into hIS life?” he sighed and shook his head.

The way Namjoon hung his head, Tae recognized knew that angle.

She knew the slump in those shoulders. That’s the “why am I such a burden on my beautiful, functional friend’s life??” shoulders. Screw that.

“I don’t think it’s bullshit.” she said, her voice somehow too loud in the night meadow.

Namjoon looked over, had inclined in curiosity. Her stomach clenches.

“The existential stuff? Your observations. Your poems. They’re really good, Namjoon,” she can feel words weighing heavily with sincerity, making them less cool.

You’re the neatest! she can hear herself say, running to the little kid in her homeschool o-op, then freezing when the kid pulled away, looking at her as if she slapped him. Mommy, why don’t people want to hear nice things? she’d cried.

She curses it. “Ah, dammit, if I was you I’d have some poetic way to say it but....I read all your columns in the school papers, and even your poetry tumblr with the shitty typewriter graphics, but it didn’t matter, your stuff was the BEST version of that? like…I still call nocturnal animals ‘moonbabies’!”

She tries not to blush, and judging from the heat in her cheeks, she should stick to her dayjob.

The light from the tent behind them falls across the side of his face, making his skin glow, the soft shadow obscuring the other side, but both of them were focused on her, and she had to admit that it felt like a pleasant flame starting up somewhere in her chest…

“You read my stuff?” he said, quietly.

“Yeah!” she said, defiantly. “I loved it! Why….why do you think I was always. Like. creepily hanging out on the edge of your friendgroup?”

He blinked. “Because you were friends with Jimin? Who is basically the only reason Hobi, Yoongi, and I made it through the first year after graduation? Because she basically minored in Mothering?”

She felt a huff of frustration escape her.

“I was trying to talk to you for so long! But then, like, Jimin started dating Hobi and it felt like...you know...you had your friendgroup and it doesn’t mattr how much you like someone, you can’t force a friendship!”

She clamped her mouth down, trying to bite off her words.

He laughed “You thought that? I was like ‘wow, I better not screw this up, or this cute girl will stop coming around with Jimin,’ so….” he sighed. “yeah, so I guess I was the Statuesque Asshole.”

“The WHAT?” she burst out with, snorting into her bubbly.

He groaned, putting his head in his hands.

“So...it’s this thing Jin said I do, when I get nervous, and compensate to look good, like,” he looked up, affecting his severe face that just makes him look like a model who smelled something bad.

“Oooohh! I know that face!” Tae crowed.

His expression melted back into an apologetic one.

“Yeah. I think I’m going for professional but,” he paused, wincing, “as Yoongi says, I end up at Constipated.”

“I mean, maybe constipated in the bathroom of a Yves-Saint-Laurent show,” she mumbles into her glass.

His ears are pink and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen in her life.

“Yah!!! No making out in the bushes!!” Jungkook’s voice faintly drifts over from the top of the grassy hill.

His flush grows, and he lets out embarrassed balloon squeak laughs, while bringing his hands up to his face.

She was appalled to discover this made the warm longing to put her lips on his face WORSE.

Taking a deep breath, he casually leaned back on his arm, and yelled, “the only making out the bushes are getting, is when they...make out the shape of...you, when I...throw you in them!”

He shot an apologetic glance to Tae.

She fell forward, laughing. He leaned into this, pulling an even more dramatic face.

“Sorry” he stage-whispered. “Sounded better in my head.”

The wine, the dancing, the cold grass under her, seemed to all flicker upwards, twining gently around this new light, warming the bottom of her stomach.

“Let’s throw him in the bushes and prove it,” she whispered.

He crumpled forward, giggling. “That IS the only solution, isn’t it”

“Badly” she hears Jimin say in her head, “when dates are going well, you behave badly.”

That whisper wreaths around her brain, as she leans conspiratorially toward Namjoon, and the way he leans his body toward her, the little smile flickering in his eyes, like he’s all in, he’s ready to rob a casino if she suggests it, stokes the little fire crackling up inside her.

She’d really never had a chance, had she.

---

A blurry shot of the whole group holding up a single canvas with a finger-painted heart in the center, as Jimin poses with it, hands under her own chin, like she’s waiting for praise. Seokjin is toasting in the background, Jungkook is lying under the coffeetable.

A quick video clip of Jimin’s nose, too-bright, too-close, as she yells, “BEST NIGHT EVER, TAETAE, DON’T FORGET WE’RE LESB--” before the phone cuts away, and Tae’s face appears, “sober Jimin, i but you off and I want all the brownie points tomorroooowww!” she giggles into the receiver.

Even after the paint gets put away, and Tae spends 15 minutes to scrub her hands, the intimate “send-off” goes well. Jimin ends up curled up in Hobi’s arms on the couch, asleep.

Jungkook is inexplicably still laid out under the coffeetable, peaceful and lightly snoring. Empty, pink-stained margarita glasses appear to hover above him, on the glass surface.

“I thought the bride and groom weren’t supposed to see each other by now, or certainly not CANOODLE,” Seokjin intones.

Yoongi looks up from the beanbag he’s mournfully wrapped around. “Clearly your definition of canoodle needs work.”

Tae walked in, triumphantly wet from scrubbing all the paint off. “I will canoodle all y’alls HEADS IN if you don’t get upstairs to sleep.”

Namjoon’s arm shot up, “hear hear!” as he gathers Hobi with another one.

The slurry of tipsy giggling comes from Yoongi and Seokjin, “yeeeaaahh I BET that’s how you feel about canoodling!”

“I have a secret,” says Jin stage-whispers to Yoongi, “you didn’t hear it from me, but Taehee wants to kiss her boyfriend.”

Yoongi’s grin, an impossibly lizard-like thing appears, “well, I can’t even say what HE wan--”

“HEY!” Tae says, bright pink. “Come on, GET, you big dorks!” when Yoongi shoots a look in her direction, she half bows and adds, “whom I love and respect so much, wow.”

She and Jimin bundle everyone to the door. As Namjoon passes her, out the door, to push Yoongi into the Uber, pink-cheeked himself, he smiles.

“Have a good night, Tae” he says, “remember, no canoodling without me,”

Her heart stutters a bit as he winks.

---

The quiet breath of the morning hush in the woods. The coffee cups as everyone is slowly getting ready.

A blurry phone photo of several smiling bridesmaids, amidst piles of makeup, also Jimin making a face, while the makeup lady tugged her hair back.

Tae has already spent 3 hours running around, fetching bobby pins, and helping hold bags of makeup brushes, and promptly while girls chattered.

The text came through, from Yoongi:

“Yr bf needs help.”

“what?? I’m about to put my dress on”

“wow keep it pg, but srsly, code blue”

“...heart attack?”

“hobi jst MIGHT if u don’t help Joon’s hair.”

She opened her mouth to yell to Jimin that she had to go run over to the guy’s side for something real quick.

Pinned down by the hairstylist and makeup artists, Jimin still leaned over to yell, “If it’s my brother being a turd, tell him to come here and I’ll show him what for!”

Tae smiled at her phone, where Kookie replied to the “getting ready” photo with several laughing emojis and a few inexplicable rockets, bombs, and a single gecko.

“No, Kook is fine actually!”

There was a moment of silence before Jimin called out, “You sent him that photo of my hair yanked back all funny!! Didn’t you!”

“Byyyyeeeeeloveyouseeyounabit!” Tae called out, already running through the house, and down the stairs.

So this is how she ended up hers, balancing her butt on the end of the bathroom vanity counter, hands were sticky with product, telling Namjoon to sit still.

“Couldn’t Seokjin do this??” she mumbled, around the comb in her teeth, as she plunged her hands into the soft bush of his hair.

He yelped, a scrawny, throaty yelp, as he jerked slightly.

“No, he shrugged, and came at me with SCISSORS and the scream Hoseok let out, and---I don’t, ack, think my hair GOES in that DIRECTION--”

“Hush!” she kneed him in the side, her feet plant on the chair on either side of his hips.

He let out some whines, dodging her head, trying to see his reflection in the mirror behind her.

“Just...sit STILL, namJOON!” she yodels.

“Ughhh it doesn’t feel right!!” he whined.

She held a comb in her teeth as she shaped his hair, and then pulled it out, to finish it.

She hated that her mind was cataloguing the texture of his hair in your hands, the protesting hums as she tugged it into place, and the wince he shot in her direction.

“Ooooohhh c’mon baby, hang on,” she said, automatically making baby faces at him.

She flushes immediately, as it catches in her throat, but he flushes too.

“Um, you’re just behaving like my 4 year olds, c’mon,” she said, clearing her throat.

He arches an eyebrow at her in challenge.

“Awwww honey, be gentle,” he says, voice an unfair purr.

Cheeks pink, she wipes her hands on his head, and cups his whole face, dragging it up until his surprised eyes meet hers.

“Listen. You are blessed with as ton of hair, wild hair, and if you want to be the hottest man at this party, with the exception of Hobi, because outshining him would be rude, but lord love him, have you SEEN the man’s bone structure it’d crisp a pizza at 100 yards-- ANYWAY! If you want this, you will let me put enough gel in your hair that Clark Gable will come back from the dead, to compliment your handsomeness and personally shake your hand.”

His eyes blinked once, widened during the onslaught.

She dropped his face, leaning back. His eyes roam over her.

She felt a heavy, familiar blush creep over her limbs.

“What,” she mulishly intoned. “You have objections?”

His grin widens.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’m” he says, with a tiny bit of wiggle that drives her insane.

He sits forward, and leans up, getting in her counter-sitting space, placing hands on either side of her, caging her in on the counter.

She stays placidly still, knowing if she betrays how fast her heart is beating, it’ll be too much.

to see himself in the mirror over her shoulder.

She hopes her tiny inhale wasn’t audible, though if she turned her head, her nose would brush his cheek.

He cranes his head a few different ways, strikes a pose with his chin, jiggles his eyebrow. She presses her lips together to prevent from bursting out laughing.

“Hey,” he says, holding the ridiculous pose, “thanks for making me 100% sexier now.”

She can see the moles on his neck, how his tendon roll around under his skin, how the light falls across the smooth planes of his face...

“Wait!” she yelps.

Gently pushing him back by the shoulders, she hops off the counter, wrestling her phone out of her back pocket

Guiding his shoulder back, she turns him, so the light fall across him.

“Hang on, the light…you just look like these old fashion plates, Leydendecker? Anyway, men’s fashion, from the 20’s.” she murmurs.

He simply nods like he understands everything she’s saying, and interrupts himself to self-consciously still again.

“You have really nice lines,” she says, flipping through the previews, before holding up her phone again.

“Thanks but ah, I’m pretty sure you’ll find you’ve accidentally taken pictures of a talking noodle ,” he says, scrubbing the back of his neck.

“Hush,” she says, bringing his hand back down to his side. “I’m just making a memory.”

His eyes light up at the mention. “Hm?”

“Well, more like saving a memory,” she says. He looks curious. “I like to save inspiration,” she states. “Even if it’s not something I use….it records how I felt in the moment?”

She is taken with a fit of embarrassment at the idea of explaining her idea of memory, “Now! Turn again!!”

He obliges.

---

A collage of shots.

Hobi with tears in his eyes, looking down the aisle, Jimin, a vision in white, looking every bit the angel she’s always said she was.

Tae’s whole face is wet, as she holds Jimin’s bouquet. Namjoon looks stoic, but you can almost see the tremble in his lip.

The couple bursting out of the church doors, holding hands, smiles on their faces, big enough to swallow the whole world.

Namjoon standing with a mic, looking every bit the dapper poet.

Taehee with the mic, looking like she was teetering between tears and blurting out something inappropriate. Jimin hugging her, both of them wiping their eyes.

The music was wonderful. The jazz quintet was an excellent decision, and Tae remembered the hOURS of agonizing on the phone with Jimin, stressed about costing her parents any more money.

Jimin and Hobi dance slowly to them covering a lovely, slow R&B song, something about eternal love. It’s very them.

Namjoon offers her his hand, and sweeps her onto the dancefloor. He’s not a freestyler, but his waltz frame is very strong, and she wishes she didn’t know that information.

The reception swirls by in a blur. She is embarrassed but also giddy.

She keeps hand-feeding Namjoon bits of stylish Korean fusion food, the bite-sized cups of shrimp with gochujang grits, her fingers touching his soft lips, memorizing the placidly confused look on his face, how trusting he is even when she put the parsley garnish in his mouth once.

The crinkly disgusted face he makes, she wants to paper it over all the wallpaper in her heart.

Jimin throws the bouquet, and her aim is vicious. Tae ducks, but it bounces off Yoongi who is standing on the sidelines, and lands in Tae’s hair.

She sighs, but Jimin is so excited, that she poses for the wedding photographer with Jimin.

“Now one with your boyfriend?” she says, behind the shutter.

Her eyes immediately snap to Namjoon, about to wave him off.

He’s laughing off about 4 different pairs of elbows nudging him, but when his eyes meet hers, he says, “sure,”

He stands next to her, arm around her waist, steady and perfect, and Tae is sure the capillaries in her cheeks won’t survive the exercise they’ve been getting.

As they are released, she semi-drags him back to their table, sighing in relief.

A lady next to their table, reaches a hand out to congratulate Tae, which she takes politely.

“Now I must just be an old lady,” she says, with a smile, “but you two don’t need a bouquet, with how you two look at each other.”

Tae was ready to demur, and wave hr off, but she felt Namjoon grip her hand tighter.

“I’m very lucky,” he says, quietly.

Well, at least her perma-blush fits in this scenario, she thinks.

As the dancing swirls on, the macarena, and then the long Conga line, Tae finds she and Namjoon prefer to chill out and eat. The cake is SO good.

He laughs at her when she makes a face at the pistachio filling in the yellow cake, and gives her a bite of his chocolate. She groans at his better taste.

Later, she catches him looking at the lovely older couple, dancing slow and stately, to At Last, as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

He smiled, “ah, it’s lame, I….was just thinking about my parents. My Mom.”

She tilted her head.

“She loves this song, and my parents always dance to it, when it plays. Only time my Dad will actually dance.”

He stayed there silently, and then looked back at her. “I guess...I always want what they have, you know?”

“That’s sweet,” she said, words insufficient to portray the warm fullness of her heart.

He glanced down at his phone, and she saw the smile play on his lips, it seemed melancholy.

“So, you don’t think I’m a mama’s boy? Or, what was it, that I'm hampering future connections because I’m tied to apron strings?” he asks.

The way he turns to look at the dancing is nonchalant, but his voice has a tinge of bitterness, like the sour part of a mixed drink.

Tae doesn’t like those drinks.

“No! I think you love your mother,” she says.

He looked up, surprised, like she’d halted a live orchestra.

The stiff hair was starting to curl down, into his face. He was starting to look lived-in.

Her brain provided flashes of knowing how soft and rumpled it would look later tonight, tossing his coat onto a chair, how easy and wide his relieved smile is, the way he’d flinch when cold fingers met his skin, helping him tug his undershirt off.

It squeezed her heart.

“I think how you think of your family, your Mom, is a wonderful thing,” she continues. “I know families are tough and not perfect but if you’re lucky enough to have one that’s not enTIRELY broken...you only get one, you know?”

His eyes are on her, dark, magnetic, and it’s like she remembers everything she ever liked about him.

“My grandma died, a few years ago,” she says, surprising herself.

The reception continues to swirl around them.

But instead of leaning back, or freaking out, or perfunctorily choking out a sorry, he leans forward, and his eyebrows knit sympathetically, as he says, “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Tae blinks a few times. “Yeah. We were really close.”

He’s silent, but tilts his head slightly. She can feel her thoughts unfurl from her heart, almost effortlessly, like ribbons in a box you keep tucked away on a shelf.

“I know a bunch of people think it’s weird to be close to your grandparents, but….I used to spend every summer at the old farm they bought in the middle of nowhere, just running around. She actually gave me my first camera? It was her old film camera so ‘you have something to do that won’t be a nuisance!’

She laughs.

“She was a big influence and...it sounds weird but...I really miss her?”

She blinked back the sudden wetness in her eyes. Wow, she chided herself, way to complete the messy tableau, at least you’ll get closure from your college crush by thoroughly stomping it out.

“I just…” she says, her insides feeling a rolling ball down a hill, “sometimes I think, that it sucks that any success I have will be after she could see it, you know?”

As she stared at her empty plate, a drop of wetness hit her napkin. She sniffs in really big, trying to mask it.

“Sorry! I promise I’m fin--”

A sudden warmth enclosed her hand, on the table, as he took her hand in his.

Looking up, she sees sincere eyes looking back at her.

“Hey.” Namjoon says, as if each word was vitally important. “She knew you, right? And any success you have is a result of who that great person is, who she helped shape in some way.”

She feels something relax inside her heart, and well up at the same time.

Suddenly she’s aware of everyone around them, as wetness streams down her cheeks, even though no one is paying attention.

He looks slightly alarmed, scooting closer, offering her a napkin, and putting his arm around the back of her chair to shield her.

“Sorry, “ he murmurs, as she turns into his shoulder, to hide her face. “I’m kinda awful about that, I promise I don’t just make my friends cry.” She tried to shake her head no, that it was fine, but she didn’t want to get any MORE snot on his tux.

Surrounded by his warmth, the world narrowed down to the stiff fabric of his suit under her face. As she sniffed, she felt fingers gently stroking her hair.

“Tae,” came the measured voice above her, “I know this has been such a weird weekend, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to say this earlier or…in a more eloquent way, but ha!” he laughed ruefully. “You’re a great person. Jimin and Hobi are really lucky to have you.”

She paused, lifting her face up slightly. From this angle, his face looked off-kilter, sideways, just warm eyes, the swoop of the tent curtains behind him.

“...a great person who looks like a raccoon?” she attempted.

He smiled.

“Nah, I think whatever makeup Jimin used might be tinted superglue….you might need to worry about that, actually.”

“Hush, you can finish saying nice things about me,” she said, clutching his lapel.

Someone drifted by to congratulate Namjoon on his speech, but he just looked up, nodded, shook their hand with his free one, and they moved on.

“I guess we look like a real couple,” she said, a giggle bubbling up, because the way he was looking at her was jangling her nervous system.

His smile was slow and sweet.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” he said. Tilting his head, he reached out, to thumb off the wetness of one cheek.

“...you’re lovely, Tae,” he said quietly.

She blinked. He looked away, clearing his throat.

Her world feel like like it was wobbling, so she sat back up, and did the first thing that popped into her head, and smacked his chest.

“You’re just trying to get me to blubber on you again, in public.”

A smile spread across his face. “Ah,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically, “how do you see through me so easily, Taetae. How ever will I leave you?”

Then don’t. The words nagged at her throat. Stay with me.

Instead she stuck her tongue out at him, and poked him in the side,

“Guess I’ll have to be a better job of being a nasty gremlin then!”

He wiggled his eyebrows, and cocked his head to listen to the music. It had kicked up into a peppy swing, and she could see Jungkook grasping a whining, complaining Yoongi to him, in some kind of comedy tango.

Jin was laughing on the sidelines, with the happy couple, and Jimin was only upright, because she was hanging onto Hobi’s shoulder.

Namjoon stood up, and shook his arms out, before proffering them to Tae, dramatically.

“...May I have this dance then, Miss Gremlin?” he asked.

“Why thank you ever so much, sir, thank you muchly” she responded, dipping in a deep curtsy.

His hand was warm.

But traitorously, the music changed as soon as they got out there, a jazzy slow dance. The comedy group was staggering off to eat cake, but they were now in the middle of the floor. Couples were already glueing themselves to each other.

She hesitated, not wanting to throw him into another intimate situation.

Namjoon merely quirked an eyebrow, and when she paused, he tugged her to him smoothly.

She fit precisely in his arms, could feel a steady confidence in his hold, as if he slow-danced every week.

“You feel like you must do this every week,” she said, from her nest position, in his arms.

He chuckled, she could feel it as a pleasant rumble.

“Nah, too many people.” he says. "Maybe I only work best when inspired."

The jazz music wraps around them like a blanket.

“You SHOULD do it every week,” she says, feeling herself unspool in his arms, “maybe the nice people in New York all meet up for slow-dance get-togethers.”

“Mmmm, so they can only open up emotionally while doing the foxtrot?”

She hums in assent, “it only makes sense.”

The music swirls as they sway together until the she can hear the clarinets begin the coda. His shoulders shift, as he gently maneuvers her to an elegant dip.

It was just like a fairytale picture.

And the worst part was…..it was just as nice as she’d imagined.

---

Blurry phone shots of Jungkook drawing hearts in the darkness, with a sparkler, of Yoongi dipping Seokjin nearly to the floor, as Jin holds a rose between his teeth, Tae giggling while running away from the getaway car with a can of silly string.

The night brings a chill breeze and Tae barely manages to get the sparkler-exit corralled, thankfully Seokjin swoops in and starts loudly informing everyone what they should be doing, plucking the bundle of overly-large sparklers from Tae's hands.

After a tense few minutes (where JK keeps leaning in, pretending like he’s going to set her hair on fire, and Tae keeps sticking her tongue out at him) finally Jimin and Hobi duck back out of the big house, where they got into their “going-away” outfits.

In the shower of sparks, Jimin’s smile looks extra-bright. Hobi pauses, halfway through, and sweeps her into a big ol’ Hollywood kiss. The photographer doesn’t even have to direct them, because they’re continually just the perfect couple.

Her heart squeezes, while she whoops along with everyone else. because she’s so happy, really. Just so happy.

They climb into the decorated car (unusually subtle, some tasteful window paint, nothing pornographic, given the crowd….it WAS Jimin’s car, and she knew where everyone slept.)

Giving everyone a big wave, they smile through the hoots and somewhat inappropriate hollers.

The darkness deepens, as their car lights fade down the driveway, and the cheers and whoops and hollering escalate around them.

Tae shivers.

Is this what it feels like, to see part of your heart drive away? she wonders.

Suddenly a coat, warm with body heat, flumps on her shoulders.

Turning her head, she sees Joon standing next to her. She tilts her head up, to see him looking at the car, jangling away, a distant smile on his face, and melancholic eyes.

He looks down at her, almost surprised she's looking up at him.

"Did you get to see them off?..." his eyes flick to the coat and colors, "oh! Yeah, ha, ah you know. It's really cold out and. Manners. Can't let my girl freeze! Lawl." (He pronounced lol out loud, like a Dad. she felt herself tip fully into love.)

His eyes search hers, warm, concerned.

"...I hope you don't mind? I just though--"

She doesn't even remember grabbing his lapels and pulling down. All she knows is, the next second, her lips are pressed against his.

"Wow how are they softer than they were against my fingers" her brain sounds, as her whole body sways closer.

His warm, tentative fingers steady themselves on her waist. When they grip down firmly, her brain explodes in a puff, like a dandelion.

He kisses back, a slow, smooth thing. When he pulls back, softly, she's embarrassed at how shallow her breath is.

"You...you don't have to--" his low voice sounds between them, shaky. Tae presses up on her toes and shuts him up.

Damn him. Damn how hot he was. Damn his kindness and little gestures. Damn how she was never going to see him again. At least he’ll have this to remember.

"get a rOOOM!" hollers a voice, with a squeegee laugh, nearby, and she pulls back, her whole entire blush slamming down over her face.

“Sorry,” she breathes to Namjoon, as she pulls away.

Namjoon’s face is pink, a little splotchy, confused. “No, don’t-” he begins, but she’s already turned, yelling “haHA Jin! So funny! Go jump in the pool!” as she runs back up the stairs.

It’s not until she’s flung herself onto her bed in the guest room, face-first, and feels the crunch of a boutonniere, that she remembers she’s wearing his jacket.

---

It would have been more dramatic if she could have stayed there, marinating in her shame, but Seokjin was banging on her door, in the next five minutes, reminding her that “clean-up duty is part of your JOB, Cinderella! Can’t turn into a pumpkin yet!”

So she dragged herself back downstairs, Namjoon’s jacket over her arm, and had pitch in, ferrying things back to the storage closet, picking her way through the yard, filled with tiny cups and confetti.

“Why couldn’t Jimin’s parents be the kinda rich people who pay for cleanup TOO” she groans.

“Unethical laaabooorrrr,” hollers Yoongi, hyped from one too many mimosas, and trying to start a conga line to bring the chairs back.

However, Jin smacks him whispering harshly “what if Mrs. Park HEARS YOU, you unwashed marxist.”

Yoongi snorts in affront, “you just wish you had something on my skincare routine but NOPE I’m clean as a whistle.”

Ignoring them, Tae hopes. Maybe he went to bed. maybe she was that lucky? Finally?

But as she rounds the corner to the kitchen, she runs smack into Namjoon, walking back out, head turned to hear someone, so she basically accidentally walks into a full-on hug.

In yelling and trying to leap apart they only get more entangled, confusing everyone.

“Taehee,” he says, as stands perfectly still, while she is trying to unhook her hair from one of his buttons. “We should talk.”

Okay” she says, wincing. “Like. right now?”

"no, obviously, here, let me," He fidgets nervously, looking over at their friends in the foyer. He frees her from his jacket smoothly.

Seokjin whispers something in Yoongi’s ear, who just rolls his eyes and announces that “Jin has a sudden passion for astronomy, please excuse us,”

But before they could leave, Mrs. Park floated into the large foyer.

“Thank you all so much again for your help!” she said, beatifically, “I know Mr. Park and I appreciate it greatly. Jimin and Hoseok are blessed to have you all in their lives.”

Everyone nodded while murmuring that it was nothing.

"I hope you all have a good night, get some rest,” turning to Tae, she leaned in, “Taehee, I made up that spare bed for you next to Jimin’s room,” she smiled at Namjoon, “sorry to steal her away, so nice to see how solicitous you are of her, you lovebirds.”

They both turned bright red, and Seokjin is the one who laughed loudly, Yoongi nudged him, and nodded their goodnight, dragging him out the side entrance.

“Of course, Mrs. Park,” Namjoon said, clearing his throat and stepping forward, gallantly, “but you won’t mind if I say goodnight, first?”

Hr face re-arranged itself into polite hysterics, “oh! of course, you both are grown, you two go right ahead, just letting you know where the arrangements are, dear,” she told Tae with a smile she knew well that also said, “you are not sleeping with your boyfriend in this house.”

Tae felt mild hilarity creeping up her ribs at the thought. How much fun would it be to just drop a giant "HaHA Mrs Park, don't worry I can't be having wild sex in your guest bedroom with my fake boyfriend, because contrary to everyone's expectations since I am a wild artsy child who moved away from home, I'm about as chaste as a churchmouse!"

But all she could do was just mutely nod like a tomato, unused to someone else taking the lead, but leaning into Namjoon’s light grasp around her wrist as he tugged her out toward the patio,

“G-goodnight Mrs Park, thank you for everything I’ll be up in a minute!” she stuttered out,

—

Once the door shut behind them, Namjoon stepped away from her, rolling his eyes, and a snort escaping him,

“My god, I’m so glad we did this, if just to stick it to those controlling, antiquated views.”

H stopped, self-conscious.

“I-I mean, not that this whole thing was just...you know.”

The crickets in the woods chirped, and the soft light from the windows illuminated the brick of the patio in front of them, in a pool.

"No, I know," she said, quietly.

All she could see were his shoulders, as he took a deep breath. Now was the time to prepare herself. Brac yourself, the dream ends now.

But when he looked over, his eyes were unutterably soft. This was worst. Kind eyes broke her heart, looking like a thousand different scenarios where she’d imagined this, how he’d let her down, gently, sadly, supportively. Probably offering her undying friendship or something heartbreaking.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out, “I…I know the agreement was technically over because they were driving away but it just…” she gesticulated at her mouth, "It’s not your fault, you were SO nice, actually so nice it’ll probably ruin most of my real dates to be honest, but I just…got caught up in it, because I’m ridiculous, but you don’t have to worry about m—“

Namjoon, blinking through this, held up hand, “wait wait what?”

She paused.

“The thing? You know, where I…” her face flushed more, “you..and I kissed you?”

His eyebrows knit together, “I was just about to apologize for coming onto you so strong, like, I feel terrible about taking advant—wait whAT?"

The world-slipping-around-under-her-feet sensation was back, but bigger, bubbling up, boiling inside her.

Hope restricted her throat.

“No,” she said, taking time to enunciate, “I was talking about the part where I kissed you, because you were being so kind and considerate, and it was horrible because I’ve been trying not to be wildly infatuated with you for the better part of 5 years?” she said, ending quietly.

When she could look up, she saw the way his eyes widened, and his smile spread, like someone had tossed a cup of Joy onto a tile floor, in a big splash.

“....that looks like a good face?” she says quietly.

He was already moving toward her.

“Wait!" she blurted out, suddenly urgent to be rid of everything in her arms. "This is yours." she held up her arm with his coat folded over on it.

He grinned, took it, tossed it on some deckchair, and then reached down, to grasp her hands.

She looked down at their joined hands. Everything feels slightly hysterical.

He kept smiling a small smile, as if he was finally on a road he recognized, which was hilARIOUS to Tae because she felt like she was off-roading for the first time.

“Soooo,” he says, slowly, while rubbing distracting circles with his thumb on her hand, “Just to make this clear, before I make myself more of an idiot, it’s safe for me to assume nothing I’ve said this week about memories, studying with you, holding your hand, talking about what an ass I made of myself trying to get your attention in college, made my feelings, like, embarrassingly clear like I thought?”

It’s her turn to blink. The moon lit up half his face, showcasing the glow in his eyes. It was very distracting.

“Like...the acting? That you did?” she whispered.

“Yeah, about that,” he says, with a chuckle, “I’m a terrible actor. Jin won’t even let me play charades.”

He looks at her like he’s a cloud full of electrical charge, and she’s a lightning rod.

“Interesting.” she whispers.

“Mmmm,” he hums, taking another step closer, “funny how easy it is to pretend to like someone when they’re a gorgeous, funny, person you’ve always been attracted to.”

Breathing was more difficult now.

"so...it was real?" she squeaked out.

He nodded.

His certainty was an almost crushing weight, an inevitability coming closer to her.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Before? In school?” she whispered, blinking back the wetness in her eyes.

He took a deep breath, looking down for the first time. “because, as we established, I’m an idiot. I didn’t have my shit together at ALL,” his head cocks to the side, “...actually jury is still out on that, but…god, Tae you’re so unique and honest and beautiful. You know I think I thought, ‘you’re such a normal, boring moron, Joon, you’ll screw it up.’”

“You’re not normal!” she says, passionately, before coloring, “I mean--”

He laughs gleefully, “no that’s it! Like, I’m NOT!” he laughs wildly, “You know that! You remind me how...I'm not, and that it's better to spend time on being you than waste time hiding, you know? You make everyone love you just by being yourself."

His eyes are liquid fondness, and her stomach drops.

"And a while ago?" his gaze turned intense, "...I don’t think I liked myself that much.”

She can feel his hand gripping hers, warmly, “But that was my failure. I’ve been working on loving myself for a while now, and that’s not your responsibility, Tae. You’re just...beautiful. Thank you. For this whole time.”

She took a breath, and nodded. Her next words escaped her in a rush.

“Is this where I can say I was following your Instagram to see if you’re dating anyone for several months?”

His bark laugh is gorgeous.

"I'm serious!" she says, voice edging to hysterics, "It's so ARTSY, you can't tell if you're with someone, or just, like, taking a picture with a friend, or if the poems you're quoting are about YOU or someone ELSE or the IDEA of being in love, and to be honest, Jimin and I had even odds on you bing in a coupl-"

He grasps her face, between his hands. His eyes look like twin moons, staring into hers, silencing her.

“What are you doing,” she whispers.

“Stealing your idea. Taking a picture with my mind, so I can keep it with me,” he says.

A hot, trembling emotion swirls around her heart.

“You big silly man,” she says, with a wet chuckle. “Just date me, it’ll last longer.”

He blinks rapidly.

“...could I?” he whispers.

She pushes herself up on her tiptoes, grasping his shoulders. Hovering just above his lips, she whispers, “At this point, if you don’t, you’ll have to explain yourself to Mrs. Park, who’s been looking out the window at us this whole time.”

She sees his side profile as he turns to to look, and then his eyes widening, as he sees the tiny lamp upstairs.

“Oh wow, you’re right,” he whispers. He looks back at her as if genuinely awed.

“Maybe I’m psychic,” she intones, wiggling her eyebrows.

HIs eyes soften.

“That’s not fair,” he says, lowering his face to hers, “because that means you already know what I’m going to do next.”

I don’t mind spoilers she wants to whisper , but then his lips are on hers.

As she wraps her arms around his neck, she feels herself sinking into the kiss, her whole body tingling.

“To be fair,” she gasps, when he pulls back for breath, face prettily pink, and eyes wide. “I’d take this over a vision, any day.”

He grins, and pulls her in again.

-----

Pictures of a boarding pass to NYC, gorgeous views of the sun in the clouds, from the plane. Tae making a peace sign, in a selfie with the first thing she found that said JFK on it, a garbage truck.

A tasteful couple selfie, at the ramen place, for instagram. Tae making the most inappropriate face of pleasure as she tries Good Ramen for the first time in months. A video-clip of her laughing as she cues Namjoon to test his best NYC accent, repeating “I’m WAKING HEYEAAHH” in various places from the library, to the Central Park geese.

They find a way to make it work.

It starts tentatively, but naturally.

Their text chains are an endless string of pictures, cute smilies, and LINE stickers. She sends him pictures of all the food she sees in the grocery store “which seems like Not Actually Food At All?”

“I started this as a joke, but I’m by now I am 3/4ths convinced we DO live in a simulator and these are the edges where the developers got lazy.”, sh typed.

“Wow. what even is “Slawsa,” he replies.

“I don’t know but if I ever have a worst enemy, it’s what I’m feeding them,” she replies.

He wanted to fly to visit her, but she’d rather go to New York.

“How could you deny my Big Moment in the Big City!”

“Ah yes, the streets are too not-full-of-trash where you are,” he’d replied. "The air is too fresh. The people too earnest and un-jaded."

“I absolutely demand to see the artisanal garbage, you ridiculous art hoe.”

"Takes one to know one," he sent back with a winky face.

So that’s how she ended up in his tiny apartment. It was weird at first, he'd greeted her with a hug, so, maybe all this had been a weird dream and they were just good friends, she thought. Good friends who sent each other scandalous emojis. Who knows, maybe that's what normal people do?

But she'd joked about the integrity of his futon-couch, disbelieving that anyone could sit on it without it folding up like a venus flytrap. And He'd protested that it actually held 6 friends at once, during a random party they'd had. She did not believe him.

He'd bounced on it, sitting down, to prove it. She expressed her doubts that it could support real weight, besides one noodle man. He'd arched an eyebrows and tugged her down, into his lap, shrieking. Looking up at his smug expression, she did the one thing that came to her, to shut him up.

So this is how she ended up, in her boyfriend's lap, kissing him, as his hands gripped her waist.

“You know, I haven't found out yet, but I bet your taste in makeout playlists is disgustingly pretentious” she whispers, into his mouth.

The sticky, throaty chuckle he emits should be illegal in several states, she thinks.

His (adorable) nose nuzzles her jaw, before his lips, unutterably soft, close on it. There’s a tiny hint of teeth.

As her insides go up in flame, she re-adjusts her calculations. Illegal in all of them. All the states.

Namjoon sucks gently on her neck. His hands slide up under her shirt, caging her ribcage. His thumbs slide under the thick swath of her bra, with slow purpose. Can a human catch on fire spontaneously, she wonders.

Nope. Not enough sovereign borders in the world for Kim Namjoon to be illegal in.

“Why,” he rumbles, “is this an academic question, baby, or do you have a vested interest?”

Tae leans back, putting her hands on his forearms. She pauses to squeeze them a bit.

His face is expansive, warm, with a satisfied smile, but as she looks at him, a pause creeps into it. There’s a lift in his eyebrows, the unspoken question, is this too far, is there something really wrong?

Fondness unfolds in her stomach, and flutters up to make her face warm with it.

“You’re so considerate,” she hums. His smile slots back, as borderline insufferable as before. She determines to kiss it off his face.

“Also, it depends on the contents of the playlist,” she says, cocking her face to the side.

His eyebrows imperceptibly crease.

“What?” he say, voice losing a tiny fraction of the sexy rumble.

She shrugs, taking the moment, “I just have standards. Didn’t spend all this time being repressed to be kissed to, I dunno, an indie band or...yikes, Drake or something.”

“wait, what’s WRONG with Drake?” he semi-squawks.

Suddenly instead of a sex-panther, he looks more like a disgruntled duckling.

“Is that a problem?” she says, leaning in, to smack a kiss on his nose, trying to hide her laughter.

He seems not appeased. Tae takes her time to kiss down his jaw, relishing each soft noise he makes.

“You don’t wanna be kissed to my “Sexy Jamz” playlist?” she whispers dramatically, “I have some remixes of Clair De Lune, which, reveal Debussy’s inner horndog to,” she nips his jaw, to hear the soft groan, “a frankly SCANDALOUS extent.”

His arms grasp her, and roll over her, pinning her against the tiny couch, th cramped space pressing themselves closer.

“This is ridiculous,” he says, eyes wide, “you’re so hot. you’re LUDICROUSLY hot, how are you real. I’m willingly kissing someone who just insulted Drake to my face!” he squawked, as she poked him. “When is Yoongi going to wake me up, and you are going to disappear because you’re a sexy figment of my imagination."

She pulls an ugly face, sticking her tongue & then another one, making her eyes wide and and then pokes him again in the side.

“Is this ruining it for you yet?” she giggles. “I can keep going.”

He just lets out a growl, and presses more kisses to her mouth, to quiet her laughs about his noises, “did you just GROWL?”

She forgets to take her camera out for 2 whole days.

Sure, you can tell a lot about a person from their pictures, but after mentally cataloguing their soft touches, smiles, and shared laughter, she’s beginning to think you can tell more from their heart.