Chapter Text
October:
Jungkook awoke on his most important day with a clear head but bleary eyes from the long sleep. Creases from the sheets were dented on his skin, and he knew that he had slept deeply, not moving an inch. He rubbed his eyes as he rolled onto his side to watch the sheath of bright light spilling between the curtains. It made a golden passage form on the cherry wooded floors, as if the window was a gateway to some brighter world. Taehyung’s side of the bed was empty, but when Jungkook reached out a hand he found that the pillow was still warm.
Becoming aware of the sound of the water running, he shuffled over to Taehyung’s side of the bed and wrapped himself up in his half of the comforter just to breathe in that familiar warmth and the scent of his coconut shampoo. On the nightstand sat the hardcover edition of My Time. Jungkook took it into his hands and ran his fingertips over the embossed lettering of the cover again.
Ever since they’d sent the first hardback copies to the house, he hadn’t stopped touching them. He traced the golden letters of the title, then his name printed below the dark reds of the artwork. Even now, he could hardly believe that he was seeing his name in large lettering on the front of a novel. His novel. His little notes scribbled out during lectures at university, and the endless half-written chapters he’d typed out after work at his old job; those fragments of a story had been brought together into one perfect thing that he had created.
This was Taehyung’s copy, so the pages were crinkled, dog-ears thickening the corners. As far as Jungkook knew, since the physical copy had been in his grasp Taehyung had reread it nothing short of five times. He underlined parts and circled passages to discuss with Jungkook in the same way that they discussed the works of the great authors, except he lavished praise upon every sentence too.
It helped Jungkook with the critical side of himself that wanted to second-guess everything while reading back his own work. He was terrified of finding a typo, even though he knew that Taehyung would never have permitted such a thing to make it to print.
‘This is the last day that the book belongs just to us,’ said Taehyung, as soon as he walked back out into the bedroom and saw him awake. A towel was wrapped around his waist, far too low to catch the water that dripped down from his hair to pool at his collarbones. ‘You’re going to release this into the wild tonight and it’ll stand on its own feet for the very first time.’
Jungkook exhaled and nodded. ‘I’m nervous.’
He knew there was no need to be. Almost everyone important to his life had read the book already. Hoseok had finished it in three hours, while Jimin had perused for a week before sending an email as long as Jungkook’s arm with all of his thoughts. Nonetheless, the thought of his book being on the shelves in the shop, waiting there to be bought by total strangers, made his stomach feel dizzy. He knew that a lot of the bookstores in town were going to promote the book in the window.
People from college would recognise him. Maybe even people from school. Jungkook wondered whether his parents would know about it.
Of course they would.
‘Nervous energy is good,’ said Taehyung, balancing on one knee on the bed to kiss his forehead, ‘but don’t let it take over. This is your moment. You’ve worked hard for this moment. I want you to enjoy every second.’
‘Tae, I know this is like a big secret, but the truth is I’m shy,’ groaned Jungkook. He flopped back on the bed again. He was going to be the centre of attention all night, and being the centre of attention was what made him nervous. Jungkook preferred to watch others soar in the limelight.
‘You’ll do beautifully,’ Taehyung kissed his nose and then climbed back off the bed. ‘I’ll make you your coffee.’
Despite having the entire day to prepare, Jungkook had still laid out almost everything yesterday. He’d hung up his outfit, not too casual but not too formal either, a black dress shirt with rolled up sleeves to show off his tattoos and dark jeans, his best pointed boots with a low heel that highlighted his sharp lines. This, for once, was going to be a day that would go to plan.
He got to the bottom of the stairs just as the buzzer rang by the door, but he didn’t have time to turn that way before Taehyung pressed his cup of coffee into his hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll check the door,’ he said, and Jungkook raised his eyebrows in surprise.
‘Sure. Thank you,’ he smiled, ever proud to see Taehyung do something like stroll to the door with ease.
He breathed in his coffee before taking the first sip, and his shoulders relaxed. Taehyung was so good at making his coffee perfect these days. In fact, Jungkook preferred the coffee that Taehyung made to the coffee he prepared for himself. It was like he added a secret ingredient, some drop of magic that made it taste like home.
It took Taehyung a moment to return, so long that Jungkook walked halfway down the hallway to check that he was okay, and to his surprise he saw Taehyung stumbling back over the threshold, his face obscured by a massive bouquet of flowers that could barely be contained by his slender arms. Jungkook dived forwards to take some of the weight before he tripped.
‘Whoa!’
‘A driver just dropped them off at the gates,’ said Taehyung, his voice muffled behind the thick foliage.
The flowers were in a gold vase-like box, wrapped in orange and gold cellophane that matched the fiery array. The collection ranged from dark ochre to bright spring yellow through burnt shades of orange and dark russet, flame red and bold crimson. Jungkook did not know much about flowers, but he knew that an arrangement like this must be very expensive. As he managed to negotiate the bouquet down onto the table he brushed his fingers over the long petals of an orange lily, mottled with inky garnet droplets close to the stigma.
‘These are gorgeous, Tae,’ said Jungkook, still taken aback. ‘But who the hell sent them?’
The only person that he could think of who would send something so ostentatious was Jimin, but his best friend wasn’t made of money. For a split second, he was struck by a fear that the flowers were booby-trapped in some way, but then he rolled his eyes at himself. There was a card wrapped across the box with ribbon, so he pulled it loose.
‘Maybe they’re from the publisher,’ suggested Taehyung, but then he frowned. ‘Though they’ve never sent me flowers!’
Jungkook opened the delicate gold envelope and pulled out the small card enclosed. In a fine almost calligraphic font, he read the dedication:
Congratulations on the publication of your first novel, Jungkook.
Love, Mr and Mrs Kim.
He read the note again. His lips parted in surprise.
‘Who…?’ Taehyung pressed.
‘These are from your parents, Tae,’ he said.
‘My parents sent these?’
‘For me.’ He handed him the card. ‘For the book.’
Genuine surprise illuminated Taehyung’s features too, and he turned the card over in his hand as if he too expected there to be some kind of snide comment on the back. But instead, there was only the logo of the florist. ‘I didn’t think they would do something like this,’ he said honestly. ‘All of these years and somehow they still surprise me.’
Slowly, feeling returned to Jungkook’s body. He looked down, trying to process the fact that Taehyung’s parents – Taehyung’s parents – had arranged something like this. He’d seen them only once since the last visit to the house, and that had been for dinner at their own house in the summer. It had been more peaceful than their last meeting, but in many ways reserved, like everybody was walking on eggshells so as not to risk offending another. ‘They even said love, Tae. They still signed as Mr and Mrs Kim but it’s definitely with love.’
Taehyung’s eyebrows were hidden under his bangs such was his surprise. ‘I mentioned the launch to them, but I didn’t think that they’d paid much attention.’
‘Do you think I should have invited them?’ he asked, suddenly anxious.
‘No, no,’ Taehyung shook his head. ‘They wouldn’t have expected that. This is your day, for you and your friends. I’m very happy that they decided to prepare this for you.’ This was the first time that Jungkook had ever looked in his boyfriend’s eyes and seen pride for the actions of his parents.
‘Perhaps I’ll become the beloved son-in-law yet,’ beamed Jungkook. He felt smug. Very smug.
‘Perhaps you will,’ whispered Taehyung. There was a mixture of happiness and relief in his voice. ‘Where on earth are we going to put them?’
‘Right here,’ shrugged Jungkook, ‘we can look at them all the time when we’re trying to write or watch the television and be reminded that your parents don’t absolutely hate me anymore.’
To Jungkook’s astonishment, Taehyung’s parents were not the only ones who had arranged a gift. Already two days earlier, Hoseok had sent over an extraordinary piece of artwork that he had painted himself, which Jungkook had immediately hung in the living room. Furthermore, though, Jimin dropped by in person just after midday with a magnum bottle of champagne, almost as large as him, making Jungkook swear that he would not drink it all at once (unless Jimin was there to enjoy it too). More flowers arrived in the afternoon, this time from Chaeyoung and all at the agency. Taehyung also handed Jungkook a small parcel that had been given to him for safekeeping by Seokjin, which Jungkook found to contain two rare books that they must have picked up during their trip in the summer.
‘Everyone remembers that it was only my birthday last month, right?’ he said in disbelief as he thumbed over the fragile covers of the books. ‘They really didn’t have to buy me anything.’
‘They love you, my sweetheart,’ said Taehyung. ‘The culmination of your work is a very different event to the chance date of your birth. They want to celebrate by spoiling you with things.’
‘I don’t think I deserve friends like this,’ said Jungkook with a shake of his head. ‘It’s too much.’
‘It’s exactly what you deserve. I made you a little gift too.’
‘You shouldn’t have, Tae,’ he groaned. The previous month, Taehyung had given him a book of poetry for his birthday, a handwritten book of poetry that he had worked on for several months only for his eyes. Such extravagance that did not come from money was a reserve unique to Taehyung, and Jungkook could only imagine what he would have wrapped up for him today.
As if he could read his mind – which Jungkook still suspected he could – Taehyung shot him a smile and said, ‘don’t worry, it is not such a noble gift as last time.’
‘Okay,’ grinned Jungkook, ‘because I don’t want to cry and have puffy eyes for my own party tonight.’
When Jungkook examined the small, square parcel, he at first thought it was a book. As soon as he tore away the simple brown paper, he was struck by the realisation that Taehyung had lied, because he thought this was every bit as noble as a book of his poetry. He flipped open the cover of the album and shook his head to himself as he paced the bedroom. ‘Tae…’
‘It’s only a little thing.’
‘It’s not a little thing!’ he breathed. Each double spread of the small album contained Taehyung’s photographs tacked to the thick, inky black paper. There were photographs of Jungkook in bed, Jungkook in the garden, the two of them together in the farm fields, photographs of Taehyung that Jungkook had taken when he’d borrowed his camera, and endless pictures of the world around them. Trees, animals, cityscapes, night skies and bright sun that glared off the lens.
‘They’re only photographs,’ said Taehyung.
Jungkook ignored that and turned to pull him close into a hug. He kissed his cheek, then his neck, then his lips in a long embrace that he hoped told Taehyung that they were not only photographs. They were a life, printed for him to look back on. Their first months of genuine happiness together, chronicled. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.
‘You have earned today,’ said Taehyung. He caught Jungkook’s face in his warm palms and held him still to keep his gaze. ‘All of your work, not just on this novel but all of the stories that you wrote when you were a child and an adolescent, they too have added to this moment. You are a fine and inspiring artist, with a beautiful voice that the world will be privileged to hear.’
‘Thank you,’ he said again softly.
Taehyung’s dark eyes held his even longer. ‘This book will sell out its first print run so fast that they won’t be able to keep up with demand.’
‘Maybe. I mean Jimin and Hoseok might form a syndicate to buy all of the copies.’
Taehyung chuckled and Jungkook leant in to the feeling of his breath on his face. ‘I would join their syndicate myself, but I’d rather more people were able to hear your story.’
‘I’ve been wondering, Tae, do you think my parents will read it?’
It was a moment of hesitation before Taehyung dropped his hands. ‘You have been thinking about that?’
Jungkook shrugged, more than a little embarrassed. ‘I don’t know. The thought drifts to me sometimes. It’s not like they won’t have heard about it. Everyone in the country knows me as something between Jeon Byungho’s son and Kim Taehyung’s boyfriend. They’re going to know. It just makes me wonder if their curiosity will make them pick it up.’
It was clear that Taehyung was contemplating his response with care, because it took a moment for him to reply. ‘I don’t know, JK, but I hope that they do read it. I hope that they read every word of that brilliance and consider the son that they let go. All that insight and that beauty that they could have been witness to if it weren’t for their selfishness and their cruelty.’
‘You know what, I hope so too,’ said Jungkook, but then he gave him a sly smile, ‘but mainly because I hope it gets under their skin. There’s a bit of satisfaction in knowing that they’ll have to hear about me being a success.’ Especially since my father failed, he added in his mind, but he didn’t voice that particular morsel of retribution aloud.
‘What you said, that people see you as Jeon Byungho’s son or Kim Taehyung’s boyfriend,’ started Taehyung, ‘I want you to know that ends today. After tonight, no one will be thinking of you that way ever again. You will be Jeon Jungkook, author. Jeon Jungkook, writer of the debut novel of the year. They won’t treat you by your associations ever again.’
‘Hey,’ Jungkook grinned, ‘I don’t mind being known as Kim Taehyung’s boyfriend. People can think of me that way forever and I’ll be honoured.’
‘Soon, they will be describing me as Jeon Jungkook’s boyfriend,’ said Taehyung, and the delicate smile on his face suggested that nothing would make him prouder.
Though the suggestion was as unlikely as anything Jungkook had ever heard, he did not laugh or roll his eyes because he could tell that Taehyung was being entirely sincere. That was the thing with Taehyung. His love and respect for others was like nothing that Jungkook had ever seen. He’d always been that way, quiet in his expression of it but flush inside with admiration for other writers and for his loved ones. The only thing that had changed was that these days, Taehyung had that same degree of love and respect for himself.
☾
The bookshop that Jungkook and Taehyung frequented regularly was nestled between flashy clothing stores, but it was the only storefront on the street that caught the attention of people like them. Jungkook recalled the first time that they’d come here so long ago, when getting Taehyung out of the house had been his biggest mission. He’d coaxed him into the outside with the promise of books, the smell of books, the feel of the pages, the thrill of grazing one’s fingers along the spines and discovering a thousand new stories.
Since then, the bookstore had received a new lick of paint and had upgraded its hanging sign. The money had come from two charitable book signings that Taehyung had held on the upper floor during the summer. Though the numbers had been limited to a small and strict amount of ardent fans, and photography had been sharply prohibited, Jungkook thought that this was one of the greatest achievements of Taehyung’s rapid progress.
A year ago in this store, he’d told Jungkook that he dreaded people associating him with his work, in case he disappointed them.
To sit behind a table and write his name on those title pages in his own hand, quiet but smiling as he received praise, was beyond anything that Jungkook had imagined for him.
Tonight, there was a chalkboard out on the street inviting people in to pick up the debut novel of the day. My Time was propped in the front windows along with a swirling piece of artwork painted by Hoseok. There were still some patrons browsing the collections on the ground floor when Jungkook and Taehyung arrived.
They waited outside for some time, enjoying the last of the early autumn sun for the day before it set over to the west. Taehyung looked particularly beautiful, Jungkook thought, with the light breeze lifting his wavy hair. He was dressed in new clothes, a smart pale pink blazer over a plain white tee with grey check slacks rolled up at the ankle. They were confident clothes, the clothes of a man who had discovered his style. There was a book, a battered paperback, tucked up under his arm, because he still never left the house without something to read.
‘Evening, boys!’ said Chaeyoung as she crossed the street, and they both looked up from their whispered conversation about poetic metre. She was dressed for business in a sharp black pant suit, frosty pink hair tied back. ‘You both look lovely.’
‘Hey, Chae,’ Jungkook hugged her.
‘Don’t you think the display looks fantastic?’ she asked immediately, nodding to the window. She was very involved with every detail of Jungkook’s promotion, attending even if uninvited to supervise work from the publisher or from the bookstore. ‘Hoseok’s art looks divine.’
‘He’s painting as much as he’s dancing these days,’ said Jungkook.
‘His abstract mind suits your abstract style,’ mused Taehyung. ‘Shall we go inside?’
It was Chaeyoung who led the way. She’d spent some time organising the quiet event after all. The launch party was taking place on the second floor of the bookstore at Jungkook’s request, because the shelf dedicate to Taehyung’s books was there and he wanted them there for this moment. Understated and calm, there was nothing overt to suggest an event except for wine bottles and glasses, and the piles of Jungkook’s book. Some, he noticed, had already been picked up from the pile.
‘Am I going to have to give some kind of speech?’ Jungkook asked, embarrassed.
‘Not officially, but I’m sure your friends will want to hear one,’ winked Chaeyoung. ‘Tonight is for you, Jungkook, make sure you relax and enjoy it.’
This was not the first time that he’d been reminded of this today.
Seokjin and Namjoon joined them before long, followed by Hoseok and Duri who (with permission) brought with them two very fashionable friends that Hoseok wanted to introduce to him. Taehyung’s friends arrived in support too, Woo-shik and Seo-joon along with his new friends from photography class, Hyung-sik and Sung-hwan. Jungkook was pleased that several of his university friends were able to make it too, including one of his creative writing classmates who had been working on short stories in the States for two years, Jin-goo.
The couple of critics that Chaeyoung had deemed worthy of invitation spoke to Jungkook for quite some time before he was able to politely take his leave to talk to his friends. One of the reviewers, after all, had given an extremely favourable account of the novel in the country’s biggest newspaper. Jungkook felt he owed them his professional attention.
‘Right, I’ve reserved fifteen copies,’ announced a familiar voice.
Jungkook whipped around, relieved to see Jimin bounding over with Yoongi in tow. Since swinging by the house earlier, he’d re-dyed his hair for the occasion in bright orange. He was drawing almost as much attention as Hoseok’s red-feathered coat. ‘Fifteen copies?’ Jungkook laughed, accepting the crushing hug of his best friend.
‘It’s not enough, is it?’ sighed Jimin. ‘I might put myself down for five more.’
‘Hyung, you don’t have to buy my book,’ he groaned, ‘I can give you all the copies you want for free.’
‘For free? Jungkook, this is your job. Don’t be daft. I’m your friend, I’m supporting you. I want plenty of copies so that I can give them to everyone I know. Yoongi, go back to the clerk and ask if he can send us another five copies. We need to send a copy to your parents, and my mum will want one.’
Yoongi made a mock salute before turning on his heel with the grimace of a long-suffering boyfriend. Jungkook found himself smiling. Before he’d met Taehyung, he’d spent a long time observing Jimin and Yoongi, imagining how it would feel to meet his soulmate like that. To be exasperated with love and have inside jokes that nobody else would understand. To have someone to kiss away his tears and hold his hand when he was afraid.
He looked over at Taehyung, who was showing Woo-shik a passage in the book, and exhaled a slow breath.
Yes.
He’d certainly found his person.
Though he’d been nervous about the launch, he realised throughout the evening that he need not have worried. He was surrounded by all of his friends, and they did not place him on a pedestal at the centre of attention. Everyone was relaxed. No demands were placed upon him to host. After the first hour, he went to fetch himself a glass of champagne and felt a smile creep onto his face as an arm wrapped gently around his waist.
‘Pour me a glass,’ said Taehyung. He was permitting himself one drink to celebrate the very special occasion.
Jungkook settled back against his chest as he poured out a very large glass for himself and a more reasonable one for his boyfriend. ‘Tell me how it tastes when it’s been six months since your last one.’
Taehyung took a sip, keeping his right arm around Jungkook’s waist, and sighed a contented sigh. ‘Almost as sweet as you.’
‘Almost as sweet as me?’ Jungkook turned in his embrace. ‘Are you sure?’
He pressed his lips to Taehyung’s and touched his tongue over the droplet of champagne left on his lower lip. The world around them faded away, and Jungkook could not help but cup his hand at Taehyung’s jaw to tilt his face for a better angle. They never usually kissed like this in front of other people. Taehyung did not hesitate, sliding his hand down to the small of Jungkook’s back to hold him against his body. Only for a small degree of propriety did they break apart.
‘I’d like to amend my answer,’ breathed Taehyung. ‘It’s not even close to you. It does not begin to compare.’
‘I like this answer,’ Jungkook grinned, with another peck to Taehyung’s lips.
‘Speech!’
It was Jimin’s voice – of course Jimin’s voice – that interrupted the moment. Jungkook turned to see that almost everyone was looking at him, and felt his cheeks turn scarlet. ‘Speech?’ he said with a groan.
‘You are the man of the hour,’ shrugged Hoseok when Jungkook looked to him for support.
‘Get the man a microphone!’ called Jimin.
Chaeyoung sidled up beside him. ‘Actually, we don’t have a microphone Jimin.’
Clearing his throat, Jimin said louder: ‘Then get the man a podium!’
It was with much laughter rippling around the room that Jungkook dragged his feet to the central table covered in his books. Taehyung did not let go of his hand until Jungkook turned to face them all, and then he took a step back into the crowd, as if for a minute he was not Jungkook’s life partner but merely another spectator to his biggest moment of success.
Jungkook swallowed. In order to occupy his hands, he picked up one of his books and flicked it open. The familiar words that he’d agonised over a thousand times looked back at him. Everyone in the room, surrounded by their swathes of bookshelves, fell into a hush at last befitting of a library. ‘Wow…’ Jungkook started, because he couldn’t think of other words. ‘I can’t believe how many of you showed up tonight. It’s sure gonna boost my ego, realising that I have this many friends.’
He heard Jimin snicker.
‘I’m not good at speeches. Not good at speeches at all. In January I attended the Yeh Prize award ceremony. Not for myself of course, but for my boyfriend.’ He nodded to Taehyung, who inclined his head when people turned his way. ‘And I watched him give the most beautiful and compelling speech that I’ve ever heard in my life. Tae, I hope you don’t mind if I use something you said, but you told the world then that writers are the lungs of literature.’
‘I did,’ Taehyung said quietly, looking back up with a reassuring smile.
‘I was able to breathe life into this story, My Time, but only after all of you guys breathed so much life back into me,’ said Jungkook. His voice was a little shaky. ‘All of my closest friends are here. You’re the people who picked me up when I needed support and made me feel like I was strong enough to write a book like this. I want to thank you all for that.’
Jimin waved away the comment when Jungkook looked to him in particular.
‘The character in my story has a chance to look at his life, frozen in time, and I think that’s something that we could all benefit from, even just once in our lives. That moment to stand back and examine the choices we’ve made, the reality we’re in, and the possibilities for where we want to be. I think that if I took a snapshot of this moment and looked at it like that, I’d know that I’m exactly where I need to be right now. Exactly where I want to be.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Hoseok, and a few people clinked their glasses.
‘Please read the book. But more importantly, please read other books. Read every book in this store. From books we learn the deepest truths about ourselves and once we come to terms with those, the road ahead becomes clear and serene,’ said Jungkook, and he meant it. ‘Thanks.’
He felt that he couldn’t get away from that momentary focus on him quick enough, embarrassed by his improvised speech. Taehyung put a strong arm around his shoulders and spilled words of praise close to his ear.
‘Did I sound okay?’
‘As wonderful as I expected,’ murmured Taehyung. ‘I was proud.’
‘Can we get some fresh air?’
Taehyung did not even need to answer, scooping him by the waist through the small party to the stairs so that they could get to the exit. Everyone, at least, was distracted by the next wave of wine-pouring. Someone had turned up the low music. All the way down the stairs, Taehyung held Jungkook’s hips. They moved as one unit, just as they did through every day of life.
Outside, Jungkook inhaled a lungful of air. The onset of autumn brought a change in the night-time air, a crispness that tasted fresh. He unlooped the tie around his long hair and let it fall down his back, before undoing the top button on his shirt too. A few droplets of seasonal rain fell on his hair, and he brushed them away with a delicate smile. He reached out to brush away the raindrops that settled on Taehyung’s hair too.
‘I can’t believe we made it here,’ he said.
‘You made it here,’ corrected Taehyung. ‘This is all you.’
‘No. We made it. There was a time when you never could have come to an event like this. Now we don’t even hesitate. Tonight is a reflection of what we’ve both done. And I want to share it with you, so you don’t need to tell me it’s all mine,’ he added with a whisper, knowing full well that Taehyung would argue.
Taehyung glanced up at the misty moon behind the silver rainclouds. ‘The sky is opening up for this special night.’
Jungkook watched the sky too and imagined it in Taehyung’s vision. He’d been learning over the last few months to shift his mind into Taehyung’s manner of viewing things, that unique lens that could not be traded out for any other. He understood it now. He watched the sky unfurl like a flower and the clouds became stars spilled across a sparkling galaxy and a ceaseless universe, glittering just for them. Then he blinked, and when he opened his eyes the sky was flat and dark again. The image faded away.
‘Do you see it?’ asked Taehyung.
‘I saw it,’ murmured Jungkook. In that moment, he shared for a second a singular piece of Taehyung’s extraordinary vision. He hoped that over the next months and years he’d train his eyes to see without seeing, because he knew that was where the miracle of Taehyung’s stories rested. He’d master this art with his lover, his partner, his teacher of wisdom by his side. Raindrops fell to his eyes and he blinked them away. ‘You promised you’d kiss me in the rain.’
‘I did promise,’ Taehyung smiled. ‘I promised I’d lift you, too.’
‘Be careful, my love.’
‘Just a tiny bit,’ whispered Taehyung. He planted his hands on Jungkook’s hips, and Jungkook obliged by standing tall. ‘Give me a little help.’
With a sharp breath, Jungkook jumped, just enough to leave the ground by a few inches, his arms over Taehyung’s shoulders. Slowly, he slid back down. Their bodies pressed flush together. For a second Taehyung’s arms strained, and then he allowed him to touch back down to the ground. The kiss that followed was not one of passion and desire but a soft, quick kiss that promised a lifetime of warm embraces and gentle love vows.
‘Does that count?’ said Taehyung. Even though the kiss had lasted seconds, he sounded breathless.
Jungkook rested his forehead against Taehyung’s and took both of his hands to hold between their chests. ‘That counts.’
‘Remind me you’re with me, my writer and my muse. Say those words aloud into our night.’
With a kiss to his knuckles, Jungkook closed his eyes. ‘I’m with you, Taehyung. I will always, always be with you.’