Yajnaseni

Everyone who had eyes thought that. You did so, too.

But a wedding reception was neither the time nor place for him to sulk like someone took away his favorite toy or that he couldn’t pass that difficult level in his current game. He was glaring at the joined hands of the bride and groom with such disdain it would have been comical had the groom not been one of his absolute closest friends. The couple was almost halfway to the walkway and yet, your dearest and most idiotic friend, Seokjin, still didn’t announce the couple. 

You leaned forward, making a subtle but frantic gesture—a silent command to announce the couple. This was the eleventh time this year one of his friends had tapped Seokjin to emcee their wedding, and he clearly hadn't learned to leave his personal grudges outside the event’s room. Although at first, he took it like a champ. 

He would show up with a smile on his face, his suit impeccable, his hair neatly brushed up. Truly, he was happy for his friends. He felt nothing but pure, vicarious joy as he watched them find their forever. It was a good thing they were finding love, he thought. For the first seven weddings he hosted, he felt nothing but happiness for his friends. 

Well, until the eighth wedding wherein his friends’ mothers kept on asking when he would be next and when he said he was still single, they looked at him with pity and told him he’d find love soon. They told him to hang in there, that one day he would no longer be alone. 

Seokjin didn’t know what to feel about that and so, he chose to be offended. 

Where was this love and why did it seem so elusive?!

Where was this love and why was it so slow to deliver his person?!

Where was this love and why did it seem to find everyone else but him?!

He wasn’t really conscious before. In fact, he was confident that he would be the first to tie the knot. But somewhere between his busy schedule of running a company, endless board meetings and arriving home late, the certainty had slipped through his fingers without him noticing. 

Maybe love took one look at him and decided that it would rather arrive late. 

The couple was practically in his face and yet, looking earnestly at him, and Seokjin still looked like he was having an existential crisis. The room hummed with expectation. Music waited. Guests shifted. You subtly stood up, and waved at him just to get his attention. 

Finally, finally, he blinked. Suddenly, his eyes turned to you, unfocused at first, as you were mouthing exaggeratedly about announcing the couple. You frowned at the way he looked at you because it was as though he was looking at you for the first time. It was as though he was seeing you fully for the first time since the two of you became friends. The way he looked at you wasn’t absentminded nor was it distracted.

No.

The way he was looking at you was something akin to intent. 

Seokjin finally blinked.

Then he cleared his throat, turned back to the couple, and with a practiced smile announced the happy couple—while somewhere in his chest, something had just begun to arrive.

Seokjin thought that maybe love was not late, maybe he was just not looking when it arrived. 

—

Sometime later, Seokjin announced the commencement of the flower throwing with his usual polished ease, gently inviting anyone who wished to partake to step forward. Laughter rippled through the crowd as the bride moved to her spot, bouquet in hand, her smile bright and mischievous. Meanwhile, as the girls walked in the middle, ready to catch the bouquet, Seokjin calmly stepped down from the podium, his steps unhurried as he walked straight to the center of the group, much to everyone’s surprise. 

He was the tallest and only man there and he looked absolutely ready to do anything just to catch the bouquet. His expression was so serious, so focused, that one would think catching that bouquet was a matter of life and death.

“Your son is a weird one,” you commented to his mother who was sitting beside you, looking at her son who was stretching his legs and doing lunges before sighing. 

“You’ve been friends since you were in middle school and darling, you’re only noticing that now?”

“I know. I should have ended that friendship a long, long time ago,” you replied solemnly as he lunged forward, long arms stretching past a chorus of surprised shrieks—and caught the bouquet with decisive ease.

“I think,” his mother said slowly as she watched her son straighten, flowers in hand, eyes already locked on you across the room, “it’s far too late to end that friendship, dear.”

Your breath hitched.

Seokjin didn’t hesitate. He didn’t smile. He didn’t joke around like he usually did. He simply began walking toward you, purpose in every stride, the bouquet held like a trophy uncaring of the camera pointed at him.

You blinked owlishly when he stopped right in front of you. Without any preamble, he presented the bouquet to you, his face serious. You looked around you and saw people watching. Right then and there, you wanted to smack your friend for acting so weirdly. 

You looked up at him from your seated form. “What?” 

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he nudged the bouquet closer, as though the flowers themselves were meant to explain everything. His face remained impossibly serious, eyes steady on yours as numerous flashes of cameras illuminated your confused expression that you had no choice but to accept the bouquet. 

“We are next to get married.” 

—

He wasn’t Kim Seokjin for nothing.

It was proven once again when you woke up the next day, your phone buzzing with congratulatory messages from people you knew who were sending their best wishes saying they were surprised and that they didn’t know you and him were dating

You groaned and wanted to tell them that you didn’t know you were dating him, too. 

By the time you dragged yourself fully awake, the news was everywhere. Group chats were on fire. Social media posts were tagged. Speculation articles—articles—floated around about your impending nuptials with the most sought-after bachelor in town, complete with grainy photos from the wedding and a suspiciously romantic angle of him holding out that damned bouquet.

You wanted to know how Seokjin was going to explain that he was merely joking. 

By the time you got ready for work, you found the object of your frustration leaning against your car, a coffee in hand, dark shades hiding his eyes from the sun that did absolutely nothing to disguise the infuriating ease in him. 

He looked comfortable like he slept extremely well last night. 

He was smiling at you as though he did nothing short of ruining your life or reputation once the joke was cleared. In fact, he merely raised the coffee slightly in greeting so casually. “Good morn-”

Your greeting, instead, was a sucker punch to his well-defined stomach. “Oof—” Seokjin bent forward on instinct, breath knocked clean out of him. And then, in an unbelievable feat, he laughed. A low, breathless chuckle escaped him as he straightened slowly, taking his sweet time before reaching up to remove his sunglasses.

His eyes met yours, bright, amused, and entirely unapologetic.

“When do you want to get married?”

“Are you insane? Did the lack of sleep finally get to you?!” 

He titled his head to the side as though he was assessing himself. “No, princess. I slept real fine actually.”

“Then you must have hit your head. That is the only plausible explanation left.”

He shook his head slowly, “No.That’s not it.”

“Then why do you suddenly want to get married?!” you demanded. “To me, no less!”

“Because-”

You placed your finger on his pouty lips because you just knew he wasn’t going to say anything good. Clearly, you had to bring your friend to a doctor, preferably a psychologist because it was apparent that he wasn’t okay. Why else would he suddenly want to marry you?! No sane person woke up one day and decided to marry their best friend.

“We’re not even dating!” you blurted out.

He tilted his head as though he saw no problem with that, “Let’s go on a date today.” 

—

“Ma’am, please believe us, your husband is okay-”

“He’s not my husband,” you corrected the doctor with a grimace on your face.

“O-oh, sorry. Your boyfriend, then-”

“Nope. Not even my boyfriend.”

Seokjin was smiling warmly at you. Initially, you thought that he would refuse to get checked by the doctor but then  he just shrugged and drove to the hospital himself. 

Calm. Composed. Infuriatingly responsible.

“She’s my soulmate,” he added casually to the doctor who was looking at you and him with confusion and worry in his eyes. 

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered under your breath before forcing a polite smile at the doctor. “Are you absolutely sure there isn’t a loose screw somewhere in his brain?” you pointed to his head. “He hasn’t been acting well lately. I’m just really worried.”

The doctor shook his head confidently. “He’s really fine. His brain is one of the healthiest I have ever seen.”

Now, that’s just bullshit, you thought. 

Seokjin, meanwhile, leaned back in the hospital chair, still grinning at you like the problem was solved. “See, I am fit to marry you. We can rule out insanity, as well, in the cause of divorce you are already planning in your head.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, glaring at him full on. Then you faced the doctor again, expression deadly serious. “Doc,” you said calmly, “test me. I think I’m unwell.”

—

You thought a one-week overseas conference would calm the situation. Hell, you were even thinking that you would have your best friend back. You know, the one who wasn’t hellbent on marrying you? The one who would pop by your house any day at night to cook you dinner or watch movies with you as the day dwindled down? The one who would invite you to his house on a Friday night to try out the new drink his company made? The one who would listen to your stresses at work and would somehow make your problems disappear?

Similar to that one night in college when you were harassed by a senior and somehow the next day, he was robbed and beaten to an inch of his life…

“So instead of facing your problems, you ran?”

You nodded at Hoseok, one of your associates and Jin’s friend. “Yup. But seriously, who catches a bridal bouquet and gives it to their best friend whom they weren’t even dating?”

Hoseok tilted his head with a confused smile. You were on your way out of the airport with Hoseok, fully expecting your ride to be there. “Actually, that’s the part that surprised me the most. I thought you and hyung were in this lowkey longterm relationship?” 

“Huh?” you turned to him with a frown on your face. 

“You honestly didn’t know? We all thought you guys were dating…”

You halted in your tracks and faced him in realization, “God, is that why I am still single?! I mean- I know I am so beautiful. Like, I am the complete package, Hoseok. I am smart. I am beautiful. I can be kind. Mothers love me. Anyone would-”

“It’s like I’m looking at the girl version of hyung,” Hoseok commented quietly, looking at you with fond amusement in his face. 

“-be so lucky to have me! And yet, no one was having me. Was that because of that?!”

Hoseok blinked and remembered all the time guys found you endearing and would ask Seokjin if you were single. His answer, now that Hoseok was remembering, was so ambiguous. He would either:

Scoff at them;

Glare at them;

Flat out answer them no; or worse

Sabotage their entire career.

“I mean, to be fair, he usually said it with such authority that no one questioned him. And he said it in a way that was so terrifying when we all know how jolly he is as a person. Besides! You can’t blame them. You guys share groceries, you have keys to each other’s places, and you literally fell asleep on his shoulder at the company gala last year. You are his profile picture! Most of us just assumed the ‘best friend’ label was a cover for some high-level corporate scandal or something.

Remember that project lead from the marketing department who tried to ask you out at the Christmas party? The one who was suddenly transferred to the Jeju branch the very next morning?”

Your jaw dropped. “I thought he just… really liked citrus farming?”

“He’s allergic to oranges,” Hoseok deadpanned. “And then there was that lawyer who kept sending flowers to your desk. Jin-hyung didn’t just throw the flowers away; he audited the guy’s firm. Personally. And then he set the flowers on fire.”

“W-what? I think those are just his strategic ways of keeping his company afloat.” You glared at him. “All I’m hearing is he’s been sabotaging my dating life!” 

He raised his hands in surrender, “Don’t kill the messenger? Hehe? Anyway…if the two of you weren’t playing this elaborate long game, then why is the final boss here?”

“What?”

Hoseok nodded to your right where the object of your headache, Kim Seokjin, was standing ten feet away, leaning against the hood of his car. He looked devastatingly good. The wind ruffled his dark hair, and his eyes—cold and sharp just a second ago while looking at his phone—softened into something dangerously dark and hungry the moment they landed on you.

He didn't wait for you to walk to him. He moved first, his stride long and elegant, cutting through the airport crowd like he owned the pavement. 

Hoseok shook his head, grinning knowingly. “Good luck with that, princess. Looks like he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Hi, hyung, you’re so handsome hyung!”

Seokjin glanced at Hoseok and offered him a polite nod, “Hoseok.” 

He turned to you and quietly took your suitcase as he always did for you. “And the runaway. You’re late. Your plane landed thirty minutes ago,” Jin said, his voice a low, smooth vibration. “And you didn't text me when you landed.”

You tried to grab your suitcase from him, to which he merely raised his brow at you. “I told you I’d take a taxi home,” you grumbled at the tall man in front of you. “And hey! I didn’t run away! I went to a very important conference!”

Hoseok murmured his quick goodbye upon sensing something he didn’t want to be part of. He didn’t just leave; he practically vanished, his footsteps retreating toward the taxi stand with the speed of a man who had seen the "Final Boss" enter the arena and knew when to fold his hand.

“And did your conference prevent you from replying to my messages or answering my calls?”

You raised your head and looked at him head on. You knew he was handsome. Hell, perhaps even the whole world knew how perfectly crafted his face was. You knew it. Deep inside your heart, you knew. You knew it deep down, but it was the kind of knowledge you had tucked away in a dusty corner of your mind—because he was your friend. For years, he had been the safe harbor, the constant one. For years, he had only ever been your friend. And now, he wanted you to look at him in a different light like the way he was looking at you right now. 

“And when did friends ever start sabotaging each other’s love lives?” you challenged, your voice laced with newfound realization.

Jin’s hand stilled on the luggage. He didn't look surprised. He didn't even look guilty. He just tilted his head, a slow, devastatingly confident smirk spreading across his lips.

“Oh,” he murmured, leaning down so his breath hitched against your ear. “So Hoseok has a big mouth. Good. It saves me the trouble of explaining why I’m not letting you go back to your apartment tonight.”

“Excuse me-” 

“You’ve had a week to run,” he interrupted, his voice a low, vibrating hum that felt far too intimate for a public sidewalk. “But you’re back now. And I’ve decided I’m done sharing your time with ‘potential’ mistakes.”

He straightened up, his eyes dark and burning with an intensity that made the "best friend" label feel like a distant, faded memory. He opened the passenger door, not as an invitation, but as a conclusion. “Get in the car.”

—

The reason why Kim Seokjin was so successful at such a young age was due to his tenaciousness and single-mindedness. 

When he set his mind on something, it was almost always certain that he would get it. There was no hindrance big enough that would prevent him from getting what he wanted. It was why he was able to reach his first million two years out of college and subsequently, his first billion five years after graduate school. 

He was a vicious businessman, but that persona was never directed at you. He was always kind, giving, and someone who loved to crack dad jokes at the most inappropriate time. Perhaps, this was why you didn’t know how to act around this Jin.

“I must say, about time that you two tie the knot,” your mother gushed at Seokjin who was politely pouring her a glass of drink. 

When Seokjin picked you up from the airport, the last place you thought he’d bring you was in your parents’ home that was three hours away from Seoul. Yet, here you were, sitting beside him at your childhood dining table all while your parents gushed over how handsome you ‘husband-to-be’ was.

“He has always been a steady fixture in your life, dear,” your father commented with a pleased smile on his face. “I thought our Jin here was waiting for a Government letter just to make this official! I am glad he’s being true to his promise to me.”

“What promise?” you asked, turning to your father with curiosity in your eyes. 

Seokjin set the bottle down with a soft clink. He didn’t look flustered. He didn’t even look like he was joking. He turned his head slightly toward you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of his body felt like a brand.

“I believe in doing things properly, sir,” Jin said, his voice smooth and respectful, yet carrying that underlying note of iron you’d heard at the airport. “I wanted to make sure she had her fun, traveled, and saw the world. But a week without her was a very long time. I realized I don’t particularly like it when she’s out of my sight.”

You blinked at the sincerity in his voice. The way he delivered them was laced with dark promise, something you never heard of him. You were in denial, you would admit. You thought that if you ignored this enough that he would return to how he was before. You could see now that he would see this through, regardless of how you reacted. 

“He promised when you were younger that he would always take care of you, dear. I mean, look at the two of you so many years later, still around each other.” 

He was always around your orbit.

Your friendship wasn’t weak, by any chance, no. But still, life would happen and people drifted apart - but never you and him.

He was always there.

He was there when you were drunk after failing an exam back in college, a watchful eye on you all the time as you wallowed in self-pity. He drove you home that night and in the morning, he gave you all the notes he took in that class. 

He was there when you landed your first ever job, celebrating with you and even buying you a new purse for your work. 

He was there when you had to move apartment because of a small fire in the building. You didn’t even have to call him. He was there as soon as he heard, already helping you move your things to a truck he drove himself. 

He was there to fix doors or change bulbs for you.

He was there when you were hospitalized due to overfatigue, taking care of you when you were discharged for the whole month until you kicked him out of your apartment for being overbearing. 

It was like a Pandora box opening, something you weren’t quite sure if you wanted to see or if you wanted to return them inside the box, never to be seen nor known again. 

“So of course, we give you our blessings,” your mother said, warm happiness in her eyes. 

To that, Seokjin smiled.

—

Kim Seokjin was someone who certainly moved fast. The transition from "best friend" to "fiancé" hadn't been a transition at all—it was a coup.

Things transpired too quickly that you weren’t even granted a reprieve, sometime to process your thoughts, to assess why your heart was beating fast. 

You watched as he meticulously taste tested the food to be served at your wedding, a wedding you had yet to agree on. He would give comments every now and then to the chefs. The two of you were in a private room at one of the most exclusive hotels in Seoul. He said there would be an important meeting here, he didn’t clarify yet again that it was something to do with your so-called wedding.  The space was airy, filled with the scent of truffle and expensive wine, but it felt like a gilded cage.

“Princess, taste this! I had them prepare your favorite meal,” Seojkin said, cutting a small portion with his fork before turning to you with a smile on his face.

You stare at him as he held the fork out, his expression bright and expectant—the same Jin who used to bring me takeout when you were too depressed to cook.

But when you looked into his eyes, that "dad joke" warmth was underscored by a frighteningly sharp focus.

"Jin," you said, voice sounding small even to your own ears. "We haven't even picked a date. I haven't even said yes."

He didn’t even flinch at you calling him out. “I picked out a date, princess. We are getting married on the 27th. Invitations are being sent out as we speak-”

“The 27th of what?! Next year?”

“No, silly,” he chuckled. “Next month.”

You blinked at his answer. “How are we even going to plan it? The dress? The place? The food-”

“So you do want to get married to me,” he teased with a pleased look on his face, his eyebrows wiggling.

“No- that’s not what I-”

“You said 'no' to the timing, but you didn't say 'no' to me,” he pointed out, his voice dropping into that low, vibrating hum. He took a single step closer, invading my space with the practiced ease of someone who had spent a decade learning exactly where my boundaries were—and how to cross them. “And as for the 'how'...”

He gestured vaguely to the room around us, where three assistants were silently charting notes on tablets.

“I’m Kim Seokjin,” he said, and for the first time, he wasn't saying it as the friend who’d helped me move apartments. He was saying it as the man who had bent the market to his will. “I don’t wait for things to happen. I make them happen. The cathedral is booked. The invitations are being printed as we speak. The only thing left is your dress-”

“Do you love me?” 

You had to ask.

Seokjin blinked at the suddenness of your questions before he pointedly looked at the three assistants. They bowed before leaving the room. The heavy double doors clicked shut, leaving the expansive room in a sudden, ringing silence. The clinking of silverware and the hushed scratching of digital pens vanished, leaving only the sound of your own shallow breathing and the distant hum of the hotel’s ventilation.

Seokjin didn't move. He stood so close that you could smell the crisp, expensive scent of his cologne—something woody and sharp, like a forest in winter. The "business mogul" mask didn't slip, but his eyes changed. The calculated coldness softened into something much older, much deeper, and infinitely more unsettling.

“Do I love you?” he repeated.

He didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. Instead, he reached out, his hand moving with agonizing slowness until his thumb traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face upward so you had no choice but to drown in his gaze.

“I have spent the last 15 years being the man you needed me to be,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough, intimate whisper. “When you needed a tutor, I was the smartest man in the room. When you needed a driver, I was at your curb. When you were broken, I was your floor. When you were sick, I was your shadow.”

His hand slid back, his fingers tangling firmly into the hair at the base of your neck. It was a possessive gesture, one that anchored you to the spot.

“You think I do this for everyone?” he asked, a ghost of a bitter smile touching his lips. “You think I spent my first million buying a purse for a ‘friend’? You think I drove a moving truck across the city in the middle of a workday because I enjoy manual labor?”

He leaned in, his chest brushing against mine, his heartbeat steady and powerful against your own frantic pulse.

“I don’t just love you. I have unknowingly curated my entire life to be the only thing you ever need. Every success, every billion, every connection I’ve made was so that one day, when I finally decided to stop playing the 'best friend,' I could give you a world that no one else could touch.”

He leaned down further, his lips ghosting against my ear, sending a violent shiver down my spine.

“I’ve been patient for so long. But seeing you walk toward that gate at the airport last week... seeing you try to leave the orbit I built for you?” His grip on your neck tightened just a fraction—not enough to hurt, but enough to serve as a reminder that he wasn't letting go. “It made me realize that patience is a waste of time. I don’t want your 'yes' anymore. I want your presence. I want your name next to mine. And I want you to realize that we have always belonged to each other. We were just too naive to see that.”

—

Your eyes kept glancing at the calendar on your desk as Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung kept on droning about business and capital expenditures and even inventory ratio. You knew you should be paying attention to what they were saying, more so when they were planning on opening yet another branch but your eyes kept on drifting back to the encircled 27th of the calendar. 

It was next week. 

“And the cows can actually, in fact, fly,” Jimin shared with a nod. 

You blinked, brain stuttering as it caught up. “That’s biologically—” you started, already gearing up to argue, when you realized both men were staring at you far too calmly.

Taehyung tilted his head, lips curling. “So noona actually listens.”

“I am listening!” 

“Right…” Jimin drawled, unconvinced of your lie. He turned to Taehyung. “Noona must be so distracted, I would too, if I was marrying the Kim Seokjin.

Congratulations, by the way,” Jimin greeted with a smile so genuine that you almost said thank you. Everyone was telling you how lucky you were to marry such a man. But really, were you going to? Was this just one elaborate cruel prank? What if…what if he woke up one day and realized that you were a mistake? 

You couldn’t lose him like that.

You frowned before shaking your head. “Don’t believe him, Jimin. We’re not getting married. He’s going to get tired of this farce soon-”

“Noona!” Jimin yelped, slamming his palms onto the mahogany desk. “I already bought a wedding gift! It is non-refundable!”

Taehyung blinked owlishly, shifting his gaze from you to Jimin. “Oh, was that the Italy trip? The one with the private villa?”

“Yes!”

Taehyung didn't miss a beat, turning back to Jimin with a shrug of his shoulders. “Well, look at the bright side. If they end up not getting married, I’ll come with you. We can drink wine and mourn the loss of her sanity in Tuscany.”

You cleared your throat loudly. Neither of them looked at you.

“Look,” you said, exasperation creeping in, “just because he’s planning a wedding doesn’t mean we’re actually getting married—”

“That’s literally what that means,” Taehyung cut in dryly, finally turning his attention back to you.

You lifted your bare left hand. “Then where’s my ring?”

The room went still.

Jimin’s grin froze mid-smug. Taehyung blinked once. Twice.

“…Oh,” Taehyung said slowly.

Jimin leaned forward, eyes wide. “Oh no.”

“Our hyung is an idiot.”

—

Of course, he was here. 

You and him…you were never really able to stay away from each other. 

You always believed Seokjin to be your person, someone that was constant, someone you never had to worry about losing. 

It was why you turned down that job opportunity in Australia. 

It was why you chose to move near his apartment. 

It was why you never considered a life that didn’t have him in it. 

And somehow, you thought he felt that way, too. 

Maybe, it was why you found him sitting on your sofa outside your office at 9 in the evening, a cup of coffee in front of him as his focus was on his laptop that was balanced on his knee. You could hear your secretary quietly telling you that he didn’t want to disturb you and that he was content with working outside your office. 

You exhaled slowly and stepped closer, heels soft against the carpet. “You should have called.”

He looked up at you then, the familiar warmth in his eyes dimmed by something heavier. He closed the laptop with a quiet click before setting it aside.

“You wouldn’t have answered, darling.” he smiled at you as though daring you to refute his statement. “Anyway, dinner?”

You looked at the man in front of you, at the way his warm brown eyes held yours like they always had. Familiar. Safe. Dangerous in its own quiet way. This was the face you’d learned to read in a thousand small moments—the slight lift of his brows when he was worried, the softness in his smile when he was pretending not to be.

“Fine - but you’re paying.”

—

“I miss this,” you finally let out, the dishes spread across the table were all your favorites—things you never explicitly asked for, things he simply just knew. Kim Seokjin had always known how to cook, and judging by the way he sat back in his chair, arms loosely folded, he knew exactly what he’d done.

This was what you were used to. After work dinner at his place, talking about everything and being content with silence as well. With him, you never had to explain yourself. Somehow…he just knew. 

No one knew you the way that he did. 

“Then you probably should stop avoiding me.”

Your hand froze around your chopstick. You almost forgot how direct he could be when he wanted to. He was calmly sipping his beer as he watched you, the bottle hiding the smile on his face.

“I’ve been…busy.”

He laughed at your answer as though he was already expecting it. “We are never not busy, darling. We just always make time for each other. You know that.”

“Fine,” you said before putting the chopstick down with decisiveness that stemmed from exhaustion of pretending this was not something. You were too tired to pretend that this wasn’t something that could break your friendship, that this was something that would go away in time.

“Fine?”

“I…I have been avoiding you.”

“Because?” his brows lifted, urging you to continue. 

“Because…because I don’t know how far you are going to take this “wedding” thing. Honestly, Seokjin, what’s happening? You and I, we’re friends. We’ve been friends for so long. Friends don’t do this to each other.”

Seokjin regarded you for a moment, his brown eyes filled with sincerity before he calmly stood up. He rounded the table and stopped in front of you. To your surprise, Kim Seokjin knelt down in front of you before gently taking your hand. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, familiar in a way that made your chest ache. He looked at you like you were everything he ever needed and more. He looked at you so softly that you were sure he had never ever looked at anyone that way before.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “Friends don’t do this to each other.”

His gaze dropped. He inhaled deeply, as if steadying himself, before lifting the back of your hand to his cheek. 

“But I am so tired of pretending I don’t feel anything for you. I tried. God knows how much I tried to stop…to stop feeling like my heart beating dangerously fast when you enter the fucking room does not mean anything. That watching you with another man didn’t feel like a knife to my throat, that it was just me being overprotective when it was anything but that. I stopped pretending that obsessively craving for your presence was just friendship.”

He looked up at you then, eyes fierce, vulnerable, unguarded. “No. You’re not just my best friend. You own my fucking heart, every twisted edges of it. You own me. Completely.” His voice softened on the last words. “So tell me… why won’t you accept it?” he asked when what he really wanted to know was why you couldn’t accept him when he would simply perish without you. 

Your lips trembled, the surge of emotion heavy as you wondered how it turned out this way. Your best friend, the only constant thing in your life, the one who could have anything and anyone was looking at you as though he was begging for you to love him. 

And so, you did something you thought of every once in a while. You bent down and closed the distance between you and him. You reached down, cupping his face with trembling hands, your thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw.

For a heartbeat, he froze, his breath hitching in his throat. Then, you pulled him up.

The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't a cinematic slow-burn. It was desperate and messy—a collision of years of suppressed longing and unspoken truths. It tasted like salt and relief. His hands found your waist instantly, gripping you with a strength that spoke of a man finally finding solid ground after a lifetime at sea.

He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closed tight as he exhaled a shuddering breath against your lips.

"Finally," he whispered, the word a jagged prayer. "Finally."

Seokjin groaned, his fingers slipping through your hair. His kiss chartered into something short of claiming. He paused, your breaths were the only thing that could be heard in his apartment. “Please tell me you want this.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering against the sensitive skin of your throat where his thumb now rested. The vulnerability in his expression—the Great Kim Seokjin reduced to a man begging for a single sentence—was what finally broke the last of your defenses.

“I want this,” you whispered, your voice gaining strength as the truth took hold. “I want all of you, Jin. And I don’t want to lose you. Ever. I just can’t lose you.”

His breath left him in a rush, almost a laugh, almost a prayer. “You won’t,” he promised softly. “You won’t lose me. I’ll be yours just as much as you’ll be mine.”

He said your name like it was sacred, like it belonged to him in the quietest, most reverent way. He didn't go back to the desperate, bruising kisses of moments ago. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, then each of your eyelids, and finally the tip of your nose. It was a silent vow, a promise that now that he had you, he would spend every day proving he was worthy of the trust you’d just placed in his hands.

When you woke the next morning, your eyes squinted against the sunlight filtering through his curtains. It took a second for your vision to adjust long enough for the real shock to hit.

The diamond on your left hand caught the light and scattered it everywhere.

For a heartbeat, you simply stared.

“Will you marry me?” Seokjin murmured sleepily from behind you, his arm still snug around your waist, his voice warm and unguarded, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

You turned slightly, breath catching, heart already knowing the answer.

“I will,” you whispered, smiling into the morning.