pairing: min yoongi/park jimin (yoonmin)
genre: angst, romance, religious trauma, coming-of-age, hurt/comfort, psychological, drama, one shot !!!
warnings: religious trauma, internalized homophobia, homophobia, emotional manipulation, guilt, shame, identity struggles, anxiety, crying, emotional distress, spiritual conflict, discussions of sin, church setting, heavy themes
author’s note: this story explores religious trauma and the psychological effects it can have on young people. it is not intended to criticize faith itself, but rather the harm that can result when love and identity are met with shame instead of compassion. and lastly, thank you so, so much to @ninefriedchickens ♡ thank you for inspiring this idea and helping me shape it into what it became. i genuinely couldn’t have written this story without you. ♡
the church was always the quietest before everyone arrived.
before the voices filled the empty halls.
before the sound of prayers and hymns became something everyone shared.
min yoongi liked it that way.
he liked the silence. he liked sitting in front of the old piano while the morning light slipped through the stained-glass windows, painting colors onto the wooden floor.
no one expected anything from him in those moments.
he wasn’t the quiet son. he wasn’t the boy who never smiled. he wasn’t the teenager everyone described as “difficult” just because he preferred silence over unnecessary conversations.
and the piano understood him better than most people did. his fingers moved slowly across the keys, playing a hymn he had heard hundreds of times before. a song about faith. a song about forgiveness. a song about love.
at that age, yoongi still believed those words meant exactly what they were supposed to mean. he believed love was something gentle. something pure. something god would never ask someone to be ashamed of. he didn’t know yet how much those words would hurt him.
park jimin arrived at the church on a rainy sunday morning. he was fourteen years old and already hated being the new kid.
his parents told him it would be good for him.
“the people there are kind.”
“you’ll feel at home soon.”
jimin wanted to believe them.
he really did. but walking into a place where everyone already knew each other made him feel like an outsider. everyone seemed to have a place. everyone seemed to belong.
until he heard the piano. he stopped walking. the sound came from somewhere deeper inside the church.
jimin followed it without thinking. and that’s when he saw him. a boy sitting alone at the piano.dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. a serious expression on his face.
someone who looked like he belonged to the silence. jimin didn’t know his name yet. he didn’t know that years later, this same boy would become the person he loved most.
he didn’t know that loving him would become the reason he questioned everything he had ever believed.
the music sounded beautiful. when the song ended, jimin spoke before he could stop himself.
for a moment, he looked almost surprised that someone had heard him.
a small smile appeared on his face.
yoongi didn’t know why that sentence stayed with him. maybe because nobody usually noticed things about him. maybe because jimin said it like he truly meant it.
or maybe because, without realizing it, that was the first time someone had made the lonely church feel a little less empty. years later, they would both remember that moment.
the first time they felt like they had found somewhere they belonged.
they just never imagined that one day, the place that brought them together would become the place they had to leave behind.
after that sunday, jimin started noticing min yoongi everywhere. not in an obvious way. not like he was searching for him. at least, that’s what jimin told himself.
but somehow, every sunday morning, his eyes always wandered toward the piano first. toward the boy who always arrived early. toward the boy who stayed behind after everyone left. toward the boy who looked like he carried a thousand thoughts but never said any of them out loud.
jimin almost jumped when yoongi spoke.
he hadn’t realized he had been standing there for so long. “what?”
yoongi looked at him from the piano bench.“you keep staring.”
jimin immediately looked away. “i wasn’t.”
yoongi raised an eyebrow. “you were.”jimin felt his cheeks heat up.
“i just think it’s pretty.”
“the piano?” a small pause
jimin looked at him. “the music.”for some reason, that answer made yoongi look away. slowly, without either of them noticing, they became familiar. not close. not yet.
jimin started helping with the choir. yoongi started staying a little longer after practice.
sometimes they walked to the bus stop together. sometimes they sat outside the church steps, watching people pass by.
sometimes they didn’t talk at all. and somehow, the silence never felt uncomfortable. that was what surprised yoongi the most. most people tried to fill every quiet moment.
jimin didn’t. he was happy just being there. “why do you always stay after everyone leaves?” jimin asked one evening.
the church was almost empty.
only a few candles remained lit near the altar. yoongi looked down at his hands. “it’s quiet.”
“i think i like quiet too.”
jimin gasped. “that’s rude.”
and yoongi hated how much he liked hearing it. they were still young enough to believe everything was simple.
they still believed the church was a place where people were loved.
they still believed prayers were always answered. they still believed that if you tried hard enough, if you were kind enough, if you had enough faith…
nothing could ever truly hurt you. but growing up meant learning that some questions didn’t have easy answers.
and some feelings arrived before you were ready for them. years later, jimin would remember those afternoons.
not the moments everyone else would think mattered. he would remember the small ones. yoongi giving him his umbrella when it started raining. yoongi leaving the last piece of bread from the church gathering for him.
yoongi quietly placing a blanket over him when he fell asleep during choir practice. small acts of kindness. small moments of love. things that never felt wrong. things that only became painful after other people told them they were supposed to be.
yoongi had heard those three words before.
in songs. in prayers. from people who promised forever and never questioned whether they were allowed to love.
they sounded simple when other people said them. but when it was just him and jimin, when the church was empty and the world felt far away… the words felt impossible.
it happened on a night when it rained so heavily that neither of them wanted to leave.
the last person had already turned off the lights near the entrance.
the candles near the altar were slowly burning out. they should have gone home. they knew that. but neither of them moved.
yoongi looked up. jimin was staring at the floor.
a long silence. “do you ever feel scared of something you don’t understand?”
yoongi’s expression changed.
for a while, neither of them said anything. they didn’t need to. they had always been good at understanding each other in silence.
that was the part that scared them the most.
how easy it was. how natural it felt.
how something everyone told them was wrong could feel so much like home.
jimin’s voice was barely a whisper.
and for a second, he hated that jimin looked afraid. not of him. never of him. but of himself.
“what if this isn’t something we’re supposed to feel?” yoongi didn’t answer immediately. because he had asked himself the same question.
hundreds of times. but every time he looked at jimin, he only found kindness. he only found warmth. he only found the person who made him feel less alone.
so quietly, almost like he was admitting something he had been hiding from himself for years, he said:
“i don’t know.” jimin looked at him.
“but i know i love you.” the words were soft. almost fragile. like they could break if they were spoken too loudly.
jimin’s eyes filled with tears. because he had wanted to hear them. because he had been afraid to hear them. because some part of him had been praying for someone to tell him that he wasn’t something that needed to be fixed.
yoongi’s heart hurt. “jimin…”
“i just want to hear it once.”
yoongi reached for his hand. “i love you.”
and for the first time in a long time… jimin didn’t feel afraid. not because the world had changed. not because the questions disappeared. but because, for one moment, he knew he wasn’t alone.
after that night, nothing changed.
and somehow, everything had.
yoongi and jimin kept going to church every sunday, sitting in the same places, helping with the choir, smiling at people who had no idea their world had shifted.
loving someone didn’t suddenly make anything easier. if anything, it made every small thing feel sharper—every glance, every laugh, every second they were allowed to be close. even the quiet between them felt different now, fuller somehow, like the air itself knew and was holding its breath.
it was a cold evening in busan.
the kind of cold that slipped through coats and made people tuck their hands into their sleeves, made them hurry home with their heads down and their shoulders hunched against the wind.
the church was almost empty after youth group ended.
the last few voices had faded down the hall, the front door had shut with a soft final click, and the building had settled into that hollow kind of silence only empty churches seemed to have. their footsteps sounded too loud against the floor, each one echoing faintly up into the high ceiling.
everyone had already left.
yoongi said it quietly, his breath barely visible in the dim light.
jimin smiled, though it was small and tired at the edges.
“because you never go when i tell you to.”
the overhead lights cast a pale glow across jimin’s face, softening the sharpness of his expression, making him look younger somehow. jimin looked away first, his fingers worrying at the hem of his sleeve.
it was such a small thing.
just fingers reaching for his in the quiet, in the cold, in the half-light of an empty church.
but somehow it felt bigger than anything they had ever done.
his voice was barely there, swallowed by the stillness around them.
jimin’s expression softened.
their fingers fit together with a warmth that seemed almost impossible in the cold room. yoongi could feel the slight tremor in jimin’s hand, the faint pressure of his grip, the way his own pulse seemed to jump at the contact. for a few minutes, the world fell away.
the whispers, the expectations, every rule they had been taught about who they were supposed to be—none of it mattered.
they were just two teenagers sitting in an empty church.
the candles near the altar burned low and steady, their light flickering softly against the polished wood. somewhere in the distance, a pipe in the wall gave a quiet creak as the building settled around them. the silence wasn’t empty anymore. it felt full, almost sacred. they didn’t hear the footsteps at first.
not over the hush of the room, not over the sound of their own breathing.
they didn’t notice the door opening.
just a thin line of colder air slipping in from the hallway.
they didn’t realize someone was still there.
until a voice broke the silence.
“what are you doing?” everything stopped.
jimin immediately pulled his hand away.
and that hurt more than being caught.
because jimin wasn’t looking at him like he was wrong.
he was looking at the floor.
the warmth that had been between their hands vanished all at once, leaving yoongi’s fingers cold and empty in his lap. the silence that followed felt heavier than any sermon.
the church that had always felt warm suddenly felt cold.
the candles still burned.
the cross was still above the altar.
everything looked the same.
but somehow, nothing was the same anymore.
the air seemed thinner now, sharper against the skin. even the light felt different, too bright in some places and too dim in others, as if the room itself had turned away from them.
later, jimin would remember that moment.not the anger. not the words. not the disappointment in people’s faces. he would remember yoongi’s hand.
before the world reminded them to be careful,
the week after they were caught felt longer than any week before.
each morning he woke hoping it had all been a nightmare.
maybe sunday would come and everything would be normal again.
maybe people would smile.
maybe yoongi would sit beside him.
maybe no one would look at them like that.
but even then, jimin knew.
he saw how jimin went quiet.
how his messages grew shorter.
how he would type a reply, stare at it for minutes, then erase it.
because now every word felt dangerous.
felt like confessing something they had been taught to hate.
when sunday finally came, neither of them wanted to go.
because the church was still the place they had known all their lives.
because leaving felt impossible.
because some small, stubborn part of them still hoped someone would tell them they were not broken.
the moment they stepped inside, jimin felt it.
not the silence yoongi loved.
people who had once greeted him warmly now looked away.
some looked at him with pity.
and somehow, that hurt most of all.
not close enough for anyone to question.
but close enough for jimin to know he was there.
until a voice cut through them.
the priest stood near the hallway.
then his gaze shifted to jimin.
the room they entered was the same one where they had once gone for guidance.
the same room where they had been told god listened.
the same room that now felt smaller than ever.
jimin sat with his hands locked in his lap.
the priest was quiet for a moment.
“you know why you’re here.”
neither of them answered.
because saying it aloud would make it real.
“you are young,” the priest said, his voice softening.
and somehow, that made it worse.
because some part of him wanted to believe that.
wanted someone to tell him this wasn’t his fault.
that there was an explanation.
that he could wake up and be normal again.
then the priest’s expression hardened.
“and this,” he said, looking between them, “is a sin.”
yoongi’s shoulders went rigid.
the priest went on, calm in the way that made it hurt more.
the words hit like a blow.
jimin felt them in his chest, his throat, behind his eyes.
as if something inside him had been named dirty.
as if something he had only just begun to understand about himself had been turned into a crime.
“you need distance from each other.”
the priest looked at him.
“because this is not healthy.”
because he knew that tone.
yoongi wasn’t angry because he hated them.
he was angry because he was scared.
“you need to understand what you have done.”
those words stayed with jimin.
as if love were something to be punished.
as if holding yoongi’s hand had erased every good thing about him.
as if being gay itself were shameful enough to deserve punishment.
the punishment was simple.
but it felt like losing everything.
they were removed from the choir.
they were not allowed to spend time together after church.
they were told to attend separate meetings.
their parents were informed.
their friendship was questioned.
their intentions were questioned.
their hearts were questioned.
their very identities were treated like proof of sin.
that night, jimin sat on the floor beside his bed.
the same hands yoongi had held.
the same hands that suddenly felt like they belonged to someone he didn’t know.
because the worst part was not that people were angry.
the worst part was that a small part of him believed them.
across the city, yoongi stayed awake too.
he wanted to tell him everything would be okay.
but for the first time since they met…
yoongi was afraid that even his love could hurt him.
and that was the cruelest thing the church ever took from them.
not even their reputation.
it taught them to fear the love that had once made them feel safe.
after that sunday, jimin started arriving earlier. much earlier. before the choir members. before the families filling the pews.
before anyone could look at him and remember what happened. he liked the church when it was empty. because empty meant nobody was watching. empty meant he could pretend it was still the same place.
the same place where he had first heard yoongi play piano. the same place where he had laughed until his stomach hurt. the same place where he had once believed he was loved.
jimin started volunteering more.
he cleaned the classrooms after youth meetings. he stayed after mass to organize books. he memorized prayers he already knew by heart. he read scripture until his eyes hurt. because if everyone was telling him that he was lost… then maybe the only way back was to try harder.
maybe if he prayed enough.
maybe if he became kinder.
maybe if he stopped thinking about yoongi.
maybe if he stopped missing him.
then everything would go back to normal.
but the hardest thing was that jimin didn’t actually want to stop loving him.
that was the part he couldn’t understand.
he wanted to be good. he wanted to be forgiven.
but when he closed his eyes during prayer, the person he thought about was always yoongi. not because he wanted to disobey. not because he wanted to hurt anyone. because yoongi was the person who had been there when he felt alone.
the person who made him feel like he wasn’t too much. one evening, jimin stayed behind after everyone left.
the church was quiet again.
but it wasn’t the same quiet anymore.
he knelt in front of the altar, hands clasped tightly together.
the words came out as a whisper.
he wasn’t even sure who he was apologizing to anymore.
“please let me stop feeling this way.”
tears slipped down his face.
“i don’t want to disappoint you.”he expected relief.
he expected the feelings to disappear.
the next day, he still looked toward the piano when he entered the church.
he still noticed when yoongi wasn’t there.
he still remembered exactly how his hand felt holding his.
and that scared him more than anything. yoongi noticed the change.
he had always noticed jimin.
even before he understood why.
he noticed the tiredness under his eyes.
the way he avoided looking at him for too long.
the way he apologized for things that weren’t his fault.
it was the first time yoongi had said his name in days.
a question that almost broke him.
because nobody had asked him that.
a small, practiced smile.
“you don’t have to do this.”
jimin’s expression changed.
for a moment, neither of them spoke.
the same hallway where they used to walk together without fear.
yoongi’s chest tightened.
“trying to be better.” those words hurt yoongi more than anything else.
because he understood what jimin meant.
he understood that somewhere along the way, jimin had started believing that he was the thing that needed fixing.
“you were never something that needed fixing.”
jimin’s eyes filled with tears.
“then why does everyone keep telling me i am?” yoongi had no answer.
and that was the part that haunted him.
because he could fight people.
but he couldn’t erase the fear that had already been placed inside jimin’s heart. that night, jimin prayed again.
but this time, he didn’t ask to stop loving yoongi.
“why did loving him make me feel like i was finally understood?”
and for the first time in weeks…
he didn’t know if he was praying for forgiveness.
or for someone to finally tell him he wasn’t broken.
the hardest part was not being told they couldn’t be together.
the hardest part was pretending they weren’t already a part of each other.
and everyone seemed to believe time was fixing them.
they thought distance would make the feelings disappear.
they thought silence would make the memories fade.
they thought if yoongi and jimin stopped standing beside each other, stopped walking home together, stopped talking after church…
eventually, they would become strangers again.
because you couldn’t become strangers with someone who had already seen every hidden part of you.
yoongi started noticing things.
jimin stopped laughing as much.
he stopped arguing when people teased him.
he stopped humming during choir practice.
he stopped being the boy who used to run up to him after church with a smile, telling him about every small thing that happened during the week.
the boy who once filled every quiet room with warmth had become almost silent.
not because he missed the attention.
one sunday afternoon, yoongi saw him again.
jimin was sitting alone in the back of the church.
a prayer book rested in his hands.
he looked so focused that, for a moment, yoongi almost left him alone.
but then he noticed something.
like he was waiting for the words to change.
his head lifted immediately.
for a second, his expression softened.
like he had forgotten they weren’t supposed to be close anymore.
even hearing his voice say that hurt.
because it sounded like there was a wall between them now.
a small, sad smile appeared on jimin’s face.
but they stayed between them.
because that was the problem.
the confession slipped out before yoongi could stop it.
his fingers tightened around the prayer book.
for a moment, he looked like the old jimin again.
the one who would have smiled.
the one who would have reached for his hand.
and the smile disappeared.
“you shouldn’t say things like that.”
yoongi felt something in his chest break.
“because it makes it harder.”
that one word hurt more than anger ever could.
because yoongi understood.
jimin wasn’t saying he didn’t love him.
he was saying he loved him too much.
yoongi lowered his voice.
his eyes were already filled with tears.
“i’m trying so hard, yoongi hyung.”
and suddenly, all the pain he had been holding came out.
“i’m trying to be better.”
“but why isn’t it working?”
yoongi didn’t know what to say.
because there was nothing he could say that would erase the months of fear someone else had placed inside him.
so instead, he said the only thing he knew was true.
“because there is nothing wrong with you.”
and yoongi hated that he still looked surprised to hear those words.
as if kindness had become something he no longer expected.
for a moment, they were just two teenagers again.
two boys sitting in the back of a church.
two people who loved each other.
two people who were tired of being afraid.
yoongi knew what he meant.
he thought about making it easier.
and that was the most terrifying thing.
because jimin felt the same.
he had begged himself to change.
but if someone asked him whether he regretted loving yoongi…
they didn’t hold hands this time.
because both of them already knew.
some things could be taken away.
but not the fact that, for a moment in their lives, they had loved someone who made them feel completely seen.
after that day, yoongi and jimin knew they had to be more careful.
but being careful was exhausting.
because how were they supposed to hide something that had become such a big part of them?
they weren’t trying to rebel.
they weren’t trying to prove anyone wrong.
they just wanted to exist.
just wanted to sit beside each other without feeling like even the space between their shoulders was something to be ashamed of.
they noticed the way yoongi’s eyes kept drifting to the church doors every sunday morning, fingers tightening around the hem of his sleeve whenever footsteps echoed behind him.
they noticed the way jimin’s shoulders would finally drop the moment yoongi sat nearby, like his body had been holding its breath all week.
they noticed that even when they weren’t speaking…
there was something in the way they still angled toward each other, quiet and instinctive, like gravity they couldn’t explain away.
one evening after youth group, yoongi was asked to stay behind.
the moment his name was called, something in his stomach sank so sharply it felt physical, like missing a step on stairs you thought you knew by heart.
the hallway outside the room smelled faintly of old wood and cleaning spray, too clean in a way that never felt comforting.
the door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded louder than it should have.
the same chair he had once sat in while trying to explain things he didn’t have words for.
the same table where he had been told that confusion was normal, that he just needed guidance.
but now the air felt heavier here, like it had absorbed every conversation he never wanted to remember.
even the light felt different—too bright, too still—like it was watching him instead of illuminating him.
and somehow, that made everything harder.
because gentleness didn’t feel like safety anymore.
it felt like being carefully cornered.
“you know we care about you.”
yoongi’s gaze dropped to his hands.
his fingers were cold, pressed together too tightly, knuckles pale.
he noticed, distantly, how loud the clock on the wall suddenly sounded.
like it was counting something down.
he wanted to believe them.
but belief didn’t stop the tightness in his chest.
“then why does caring about me feel like this?”
his voice came out quieter than he expected.
full of things unsaid, of careful breathing, of someone choosing their next words like they might break something fragile.
yoongi stared at the edge of the table instead of their faces.
he just felt… far away from himself, like he was watching someone else sit in his place.
“these feelings can pass.”
each sentence landed softly, but they didn’t stay soft.
like a door slowly closing without a sound.
yoongi’s jaw tightened once, barely noticeable.
his thumb pressed into the side of his finger until it hurt, just enough to keep him anchored.
because if he didn’t focus on something physical, he felt like he might disappear into the quiet.
they weren’t looking at him.
they were looking at an idea of him they were trying to fix.
when yoongi left the room, the hallway felt colder than before.
his steps were slower than usual, like his body hadn’t fully caught up to the fact that he was allowed to move again.
he blinked once, twice, adjusting to the light outside.
waiting near the corner, half-hidden by the wall like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be there.
jimin’s voice cracked slightly on the word.
and something in his chest loosened and broke at the same time.
because jimin wasn’t smiling.
he wasn’t trying to be brave.
his hands were clenched at his sides, nails pressing into his palms, like he was holding himself together by force.
his eyes looked like he had already been told something he didn’t want to hear.
“they’re going to separate us again.”
jimin whispered it like a fact he couldn’t change.
yoongi didn’t answer right away.
he just stood there, noticing the way the fluorescent light above them flickered faintly, buzzing like it was tired too.
it didn’t happen dramatically.
just quiet decisions made without them in the room.
jimin was moved to a different choir group.
yoongi was told his help with music was no longer needed.
but they still landed like something being taken away.
the piano room felt different when he went back.
not because it had changed—
the keys were still there, slightly worn in places where fingers had pressed too many times.
he stood in front of it for a long moment without sitting down.
his hand hovered above the keys.
slowly, he lowered it back to his side.
like touching it now would make the loss real in a way he wasn’t ready for.
that hurt more than he expected.
because music had never asked him to explain himself.
it had never corrected him.
never told him he was too much or not enough.
and now even that felt out of reach.
that night, yoongi sat outside the church.
the stone steps were cold beneath him, seeping through his clothes.
the air smelled faintly of grass and distant incense, carried out from inside whenever the door opened.
he could hear faint laughter from somewhere far off, but it didn’t reach him properly.
it felt like it belonged to another version of his life.
this was the same place where he and jimin had once sat too long after practice, talking about nothing important just to avoid going home.
the same place where jimin had once leaned his head back and said, “you sound like you’re not even trying, hyung,” with a smile that made yoongi laugh without thinking.
now the space between those memories and this moment felt unreal, like they didn’t belong to the same world.
yoongi stared at his hands.
then at the darkening sky.
and for the first time, the thought came without panic.
maybe leaving wasn’t giving up.
maybe staying like this was.
jimin reached that thought differently.
in sleepless nights where his prayers stopped feeling like words and started feeling like repetition.
in mornings where he stood too long in front of the mirror, not recognizing the tiredness in his own eyes.
in the way his chest hurt whenever he tried to force himself to feel something he no longer believed.
a few days later, they met near the ocean.
not planned through anyone else.
just a place far enough away that no one from the church would think to look for them there.
the wind was stronger here.
it pulled at their clothes, tugged at their hair, constant and unapologetic.
the waves crashed in uneven rhythm, loud enough that their silence didn’t feel exposed.
jimin stood slightly ahead of yoongi, toes near the edge of damp sand, as if he wasn’t sure whether to step forward or back.
“i don’t want to hate myself anymore.”
his voice was almost lost in the wind.
but yoongi heard it anyway.
like it had been spoken directly into him.
he didn’t move right away.
just stared at jimin’s back for a second longer than he meant to.
and something in his chest tightened painfully, not sharp—just deep.
like pressure building under water.
because jimin was already shaking his head slightly, like he was trying to stop himself from falling apart in real time.
jimin’s hands lifted briefly, then dropped again, unsure where to go.
“i really tried to become what everyone wanted.”
yoongi took a small step closer without thinking.
jimin said it like it was the most exhausting truth in the world.
and then he finally turned his head slightly, just enough for yoongi to see his face.
the kind of expression that looked like holding on and letting go at the same time.
the wind moved between them again.
this time, neither of them tried to step away from it.
it hit their faces, cold and real, grounding them in a way words couldn’t.
yoongi looked at the ocean.
the water stretched endlessly, dark and moving, never stopping long enough to feel safe.
then he looked back at jimin.
at the way he was standing there like he was waiting for permission to exist.
“but i know we can’t keep disappearing.”
his voice was steadier than he felt.
and maybe that was the first step.
just standing there long enough to stop pretending they weren’t real.
but in the space between the waves and the wind…
for the first time, leaving the church didn’t feel like losing everything.
it felt like standing at the edge of something unknown—
and finally, finally not looking away.
just like it had been on the day they met.
sunlight slipped through the stained-glass windows, scattering color across the wooden floor.
for a moment, everything felt unchanged.
the old piano in the corner.
but nothing was the same.
yoongi walked slowly toward the piano.
his fingers brushed the worn wood.
he remembered being fifteen.
playing hymns before sunday mass.
believing this place would always be home.
believing love and faith could never stand on opposite sides.
he sat down one last time.
not a hymn, but something he had written himself.
something between grief and hope.
jimin stood near the last pew.
the place where he had first heard yoongi play.
yoongi let out a soft laugh.
“you’ve been saying that for years.”
“because it’s still true.”
when the song ended, silence returned.
neither of them moved to leave.
they both knew this was the last time.
the last time this place would hold their memories.
their first conversation.
their first “i love you.”
jimin looked toward the altar.
for years, he had stood there believing something inside him needed to be erased.
he remembered every prayer.
every night he had begged to wake up different.
not to ask for forgiveness.
“i don’t think i know how to do this.”
yoongi came closer, slow and careful.
jimin gave a small, broken laugh.
two boys who had spent years believing they had to earn the right to exist.
who had mistaken shame for faith because it was all they had been taught.
finally, jimin whispered,
“do you think god is angry with us?”
yoongi looked around the church one last time.
“but if loving you is the kindest thing i’ve ever done…”
“…then i can’t believe love is what separates us from god.”
just releasing what he could no longer hold.
yoongi stepped closer and took his hand.
no one was left to watch.
no fear left to follow them.
they walked toward the doors together.
each step heavier than the last.
behind them was everything they had ever known.
the place that taught them to sing.
yoongi pushed the doors open.
the sea breeze reached them first.
like something beginning.
the bells rang behind them.
yoongi squeezed his hand.
years later, it still hurt sometimes.
certain hymns tightened jimin’s chest.
certain prayers left yoongi silent too long.
healing didn’t arrive cleanly.
there were still questions.
still days when guilt returned without warning.
what they had lived didn’t disappear.
like a scar that no longer bled.
in coffee made just right.
in blankets pulled over sleeping shoulders.
in grocery lists and quiet mornings.
in small apartments filled with music instead of fear.
in ordinary days they were once told they would never have.
sometimes they passed churches.
the bells no longer warned them.
something once part of them.
something they could remember without being trapped by.
“if you could go back… would you choose differently?”
“even knowing everything?”
he laced their fingers together.
the same way he always had.
“i would still choose you.”
for years they were told leaving the church meant leaving love behind.
but they learned love had never stayed inside those walls.
it had been with them all along.
they had just been taught to call it by the wrong name.
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stormborns
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2087
