âReally? I didnât even do anything... this time.â He turns and looks to the now muted TV and back at the girl, âwhat are you watching?â He questions curiously. âThis is me being civil, if you hadnât noticed by now.âÂ
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 Taehyung was standing next to the younger when they were both enjoying the scenery of the sunset at the park, the yellow-orange colored the sky awing the humans at the moment. After a while the boy looked over to her with a small smirk, deciding to interrupt her with a playful question but was taken aback at her remark, nodding his head. âYeah, youâre right.. But donât you think.. you know at least take a picture of it as a memory.â He moved his gaze back to the scenery with a content smile plastered on his face. â Yeah, it is..âÂ
He spend half of the day sitting in front of the PC, playing the game after he invited her to come over as they were both given some time off from their schedules. He planned just to play the game for a few hours but obviously got lost in time, hands still holding onto the controller while his eyes focusing on the game, biting the corner of his lip. His appearance was straight up a mess as he went straight to the computer as soon as he woke up in the morning, not caring about having the female idol in the same room.Â
Taehyung takes a few seconds glance up at the younger when she threatened him to switch off the machine, moving his gaze back on the screen as he continues to play the game before muttering out. â Do it, Iâll kick your butt. Iâm serious.â He playfully glares up at her after pausing the game, reaching out to poke her cheek lightly. â My stomach is empty, cook for me, pleassee? pretty pleassee?â he grins, hoping she would cook for him as he tries to get her far away from his computer, not wanting her to turn it off as he is finishing up a mission, making a heart shape using his limbs over his head. â love you.â
Taehyung squeezed his ways between the large number of people on the corridor, trying to make his way back to where his member are, apart of him cursing at himself as he knows damn too well on how the broadcast would ask most of the idols to wait at the backstage for their turn to perform for the live show causing the area to be flooded with people yet he still went to the gents. Muttering excuses to the people he squeezed himself between but stopped once he saw the glare she shot at him, making him to feel guilty; bowing his head down slightly but still trying to make his way to his members.Â
He caught his attention when she pinches the corner of his shirt and tugged him to moves near her space, sighed deeply as he nodded his head after considering on her suggestion. âYeah, Iâll just wait here, I guess..â He stood next to her when she complimented on his groupâs performance, giving her a boxy smile with a small bow. âthanks! I saw yours too! You guys did a good job, I must say.âÂ
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      Joonmyeon was used to being insulted. It was common, for some reason, among most of the humans he interacted with lately; nearly all of whom were considerably younger than him. But he was tired of playing the Dad. Most of her argument wove through one ear and out the other, his lips pushing into an improvised smile, mostly directed toward the other people who stared at him as if heâd struck her. When he realized she wasnât going to stop, he grabbed her wrist - softly enough, and tugged until they stood in the emptiness of the hallway. Joonmyeon had to sigh in relief. Then he tried to calm her again.
      His expression went rigid at her accusation. It shouldnât have bothered him; she had a very good reason for tossing those words. Yet he felt as though the flowers in his hands werenât even worth the time heâd spent arranging them. He filtered his breath in silence, glancing down at the assorted bunch, then back up to her with a small smile, pressing the plastic wrapped stems against her chest and closing her arms around them.
      âThese arenât a bribe. Jasmine is supposed to bring grace and eloquence to artists-- and seeing how you act outside of work, youâll need it.â He sighed and brought a hand up to ruffle her hair.
   âIâm serious, just stick your hand in this.â Krystalâs unamused expression had Joonmyeon prying with enough patience to label him a saint. She wasnât budging. He frowned and looked her over, tucking the ancient, iron box under his arm for a moment to bring her chin close with his free hand. She almost pushed at his wrist, but gave up with a huff instead, the cold air biting her thin cheeks and chilling the long strands of hair draped over her coat.
   He couldnât have counted the amount of dates theyâd been on before today, but despite their endless banter, he knew he loved her. Often he told her, but rarely did she voice the returned feelings; she was always embarrassed, claiming that he was too sappy for his own good. It was true.
   âKrystal, please stick your hand in this.â Her eyes were still stubborn. He leaned forward to kiss her, but she rolled her lips together. He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose instead, presenting the box once more. After much deliberation, her sour expression faded, one hand reaching in and face turning away - as if too afraid to see what was in the horribly old-looking box.
   âWhat is this?â She muttered, finally offering her attention and looking at the little round piece.
   âThat ring is older than the Renaissance. I never had the chance to use it.â
   That childish look of confusion and surprise turned to Joonmyeon for help. He had already dropped the iron shell and taken the ring from her, sliding it onto the second-tallest bony digit of her hand. Before she could blink heâd lowered to one knee.
The Wedding.
   âDarling, you look-â A dainty hand had moved to cover his mouth with an audible clap. His round eyes blinked, then wrinkled with an obvious smile, though his bride-to-be was fuming with anxiety and everything dislocated from a playful attitude.
   âI canât walk out there, I canât, itâs weird. So many people! Your son, my parents- they still think your son is your brother.â She was fluttering with doubt and pacing in small circles, confined by a long, beaded white dress. Joonmyeon was still smiling when his hands moved to gently tuck a lost thread of hair back into place, fingertips tracing the rounded shape of her cheeks and landing at her jaw, bringing her forehead to rest against his. She tensed at first, then lightened, her mouth buzzing with a faded whimper as she moved both hands to curl at his wrists, her long eyelashes lowering to meet her cheeks.
   âDarling, youâre marrying a demon and yet youâre afraid of tripping down the aisle.â That brought a pent up laugh from her chest, glassy eyes flickering open and lips finally pulled into that beautiful smile.
   âThatâs my girl.â He murmured, pressing his thumbs gently into the groove of her cheeks.
   âNow, ahâŠwhere is the bathroom-?â Something hard hit his chest.
The Second.
   Joonmyeonâs palm was sealed over his lips. The wooden spoon in his opposite hand still dripped with tiny beads of broth from where heâd stirred the soup, only pausing by a timid tug to his sleeve and a very doe-eyed looking wife. He was ready to comfort her when sheâd pulled out a white stick with a positive plus. His body went numb, still attempting to process the fact that heâd done it - again. His silence made her flare.
   âWell?â She demanded, slapping his arm with the stick before crossing her own, that prominent pout spoiling her sweet lips. Joonmyeon jumped and caved back to reality, taking in a big breath and brushing it out with a small laugh - followed by a louder one, until he was gushing with airy laughter that only came from unfathomable excitement and terror in perfect harmony. He tossed the spoon onto the counter and pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face against the top of her hair and squeezing his eyes shut.
   He had to tell his son; he knew that would be a rocky bridge, but at the moment, he indulged himself in the thought of another child. When he finally calmed enough to look at her, his tone became nervous.
   âYou should knowâŠermâŠThat child might come out with horns. Or a tail.â
The Road.
   âI miss you, you know.â He murmured, sitting atop the patch of loose soil with a bunch of wildflowers resting in his lap. The air was too chilly. The trees were dark and the sky was gray. He insisted that he bury her himself, in a place neither biased toward heaven nor hell. It was all irrelevant. She had gone; she had returned to her place of creation. Joonmyeon could never meet her there.
   âEven when you were seventy, you were just as beautiful as you were in your twenties. You didnât much like it when I tried to feed you, did you? Then again, you never didâŠâ He was greeted with the rustle of leaves and a cold stare from the beautifully engraved headstone.
   Joonmyeon suddenly felt the toxic tears pooling at his eyes again. The process was too familiar. But he had to keep them in; the last time he cried in such a way, it nearly wiped out humanity. It didnât hurt any less.
   He found himself drawing markings in the dirt with the stems of her flowers, until the moon had made its rounds and the sun was slowly breaking. His heart was lumped in his chest. He only loved twice like this throughout his existence, but now he remembered why, finally raising from her plot of land and brushing himself off.
   âI love you. Even at our first meeting, I never intended to take your soul.â