Chapter Text
Pretending to fall for Taehyung in front of the cameras turns out to be shockingly easy – ‘what comes naturally’ for Yoongi is small acts of service and caretaking, and Taehyung seems to enjoy being spoiled immensely. There isn’t much in the way of choice morsels to speak of on the Inferno island, but Yoongi still gets a squared-off, delighted smile whenever he reaches across the table to deposit half of a peeled, steaming sweet potato or an unbruised piece of fruit onto Taehyung’s plate. Just a gesture of kindness toward an adoptive dongsaeng, or something more? That’s for the viewers to decide.
For Taehyung’s part, he sticks to Yoongi like glue, trailing along after him with a constant stream of chatter in that lilting, sonorous voice of his wherever they go. If any of the female contestants had still been interested in getting to know either of them – out of curiosity, or disillusionment from lackluster experiences with their own Paradise dates – they are probably dissuaded by the way that Taehyung and Yoongi now seem to come as a matched, inseparable pair. And as for the other men… well, neither of them spend much time worrying about what they think.
There are only a couple of other guys in the tent when Yoongi is rudely awoken from a mid-afternoon catnap by a loud huff, his mattress shaking from the lanky figure who has flopped down beside him. All tan skin and bare, wiggling feet, he tucks himself against Yoongi’s side in the narrow space left at the edge of the mattress.
“What are you doing,” Yoongi says, flat and sleepy.
“Taking a nap.” Taehyung’s tone is almost hurt, as if this should be obvious. It’s also somewhat muffled from the way that his face is turned to mash into Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Something wrong with your own bed?”
“There’s a bug in it.”
Yoongi snorts. Sparing the barest glance over at the tent’s other occupants, he reaches up to card a hand through Taehyung’s curls a few times until he lets out a hum of satisfaction. There are cameras in here, of course, but that is another thing that Yoongi has stopped worrying about so much after their meeting with Jung Hoseok. Barring something as blatant as the stunt they pulled in the rocks on the beach, he will leave it to the editors to decide what is too questionable to air. History might say that he and Taehyung were very good friends.
“You don’t strike me as the type of guy to get freaked out by a little bug, Taehyung-ah.”
“Don’t want to bother it, hyung. It’s the bug’s bed now.”
“Makes sense.”
Yoongi is half-tempted to let the sweet siren song of drowsiness pull him under again, but he doesn’t entirely trust himself not to reach for Taehyung in his sleep, and god only knows what Taehyung himself might do.
“Here, I’ll help you shoo it back outside. What is it, a spider? A beetle?”
“An ant.”
Taehyung tilts his head up to meet Yoongi’s flat look of amused disbelief.
“A big one. I think it bit me, look.”
Taehyung scrambles to sit up on the bed and rolls up his shirtsleeve – sure enough, there is a raised pink bump on his upper arm, right in the center between a pair of moles.
“Huh. Does it hurt?”
“A little. Blow?”
Taehyung holds his arm out toward Yoongi expectantly.
“No.”
“Hyung. It will help.”
“No…”
Somewhere in the background, Yoongi hears an incredulous scoff. When he looks over, he see the retreating back of the last guy who was still in the tent with them as he exits through its canvas flaps. Yoongi sighs, closing his eyes.
“Stay there,” he says.
Taehyung happily obliges, sitting cross-legged on the mattress with his hands curled over his knees as Yoongi digs through his bags for the insect bite cream he packed, knowing how much that they love to feast on and mark up his delicate skin. From watching previous seasons of this show, Yoongi had also noticed how many red, angry bites the participants sported all over their bodies by the end. The show seems to intentionally de-emphasize how much of an issue this is on the island – maybe they figure that they would get fewer applicants if everyone knew just how much of a feast they were signing up to be.
Taehyung is uncharacteristically quiet as Yoongi uncaps the tube of ointment and squeezes a dollop onto his fingers to cover and gently rub into the bite.
“Ahh,” he says, out of pain and maybe relief.
They make eye contact as Yoongi goes to roll the sleeve back down to cover it, and Taehyung’s puppy-like expression seems to telepathically beam his previous request into Yoongi’s mind.
This kid.
“And make an X,” Taehyung says quickly, as Yoongi leans in to blow with exaggerated reluctance.
“Taehyung, I’m not going to make an… ahhh, you really want me to?”
With a soft, put-upon sigh, Yoongi scores across the bump with a squared-off thumbnail, making a visible X-mark through the white ointment.
“Shouldn’t it be a V, though?” he mutters, and the corner of his mouth lifts when Taehyung laughs, loud and bright.
He’s so beautiful like this, happy and carefree and comfortable in his own skin, that Yoongi is once again struck by the powerful urge to kiss him. Not even the paired off men and women on this show are bold enough to kiss in full view, though. With vanishingly few opportunities to sneak away from the cameras, he and Taehyung will just have to get creative.
Lips pursed, Yoongi blows a gentle stream of air across Taehyung’s bite, watching goosebumps rise on the skin around it. His eyes flick up to see Taehyung watching him quietly, lower lip trapped between his teeth. They look at each other for what is probably too long, Taehyung’s hands opening and closing restlessly on his knees. That’s when the announcement chime arrives, of course – it’s time to gather for their last opportunity to spend a night in Paradise.
Truthfully, Yoongi only expects to be invited that one time. He would need to win a physical challenge against the other men – which, considering his competition, feels unlikely. He’s stronger and scrappier than he looks, sure, but a humble carpenter who manages to make it to the local gym occasionally is no match for the professional athletes, models and bodybuilders who make up a decent portion of each season’s contestant pool.
At the bonfire, the announcer explains that each person will be writing a note to their favored date, a call-back to the first-impression notes that they wrote for each other at the end of day one. Each person will go up, one by one, to check their mailboxes for any letters that they might have received. If there are any matches, those people will bring their letters back to the bonfire area and immediately embark on their final date in Paradise.
Given the opportunity, Yoongi already knows who he would like to spend more time with – and as nice as a few of the women here are, it definitely isn’t one of them. But even with Hoseok’s behind the scenes machinations, he can’t imagine that they would allow him and Taehyung to match up with each other again. That would be probably be way too blatant for the more conservative portion of the show’s audience. At the same time, Yoongi doesn’t really have any better ideas, and he is kind of curious how far they will let this go. He writes his note to Taehyung and boldly slides it through his mailbox slot.
When it’s time for the tense walk to the mailboxes to see who has matched with suitors and who will spend a lonely final night on the island, Yoongi is unsurprised to find a letter signed only with a fanciful letter V on the outside. What he is surprised by, though, is that it’s not the only letter he receives. He opens the other letter first.
Dear Yoongi, it reads. You fascinate me. Let’s spend more time together while we can, and do whatever we like to make this place heaven on earth. Yeona
Yoongi’s brow wrinkles, staring down at the words on the scrap of paper in his hand. The way that Yeona has phrased this is strange, somehow. There is also no way that she would expect to match with him, so it is extra baffling from a strategy point of view. But maybe there isn’t anyone else left unattached among the contestants that she likes. Could it be a throw-away message of sorts? Yoongi shows the paper to the camera when prompted, then pockets it and opens Taehyung’s note.
Hyung. You know, right? Let’s go. V
Short and sweet; weird and a little cryptic. All in all, it’s very Taehyung. Yoongi smiles while he reads the letter and then laughs a little, louder than he meant to.
“Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
Bringing his bags to the bonfire feels like an exercise in wishful thinking, but Yoongi figures that it’s better to have to drag them back through the sand in defeat than to show up unprepared. One by one, the other men in the tent leave and don’t come back – Taehyung included, which actually gives him some hope. Yoongi can’t imagine him also writing notes to other people he might match with, but maybe that is wishful thinking in itself. (That asshole Hyun-something comes back unmatched, at least. His date in Paradise the previous night must have gone about as well as Yoongi had expected.)
When he approaches the fire, though, Taehyung isn’t sitting on the bench alone. For one, stomach-lurching moment, Yoongi wonders if this is all some kind of sick, reality-show joke – a long con meant to show him that after everything that has happened between them, Taehyung has matched with a woman after all. That is, until his vision focuses and he notices who the woman seated beside him is.
“Good evening, Yoongi-ssi,” says Yeona, standing to bow politely with a sweet smile.
“What–” Yoongi shakes his head, one hand still gripping the roller handle of his bag. He might be confused, but he should still be polite. “Good evening?”
“How funny and delightful, to have matched with both of you. Because neither of you wrote letters to anyone else, we get to go on a double date!”
There is a significant edge to Yeona’s tone, a ‘do you know what I mean?’ that Yoongi doesn’t actually need. He is catching on fast. So this is how they will do it.
“Hello, Taehyung.”
“Hello, Yoongi-ssi.”
Yoongi does his best to hide his amusement as they exchange greetings with exaggerated formality. Taehyung, of course, takes to this like a duck to water, immediately dedicated to playacting their roles as rivals for Yeona’s affections.
“I won’t lose,” he says, as she hides a laugh behind her hand.
Taehyung offers Yeona his arm and Yoongi picks up her bag, which is lighter than he had expected. He almost forgets about the helicopter ride until they are back at that familiar clearing, and is struck with a rush of nerves at the idea of a new audience for his panic. It only makes sense for Yeona to be seated in the middle between her two dates, after all.
“Yeona, is this your first trip to Paradise? You need to see the view,” Taehyung insists, squeezing in next to her in the middle as she takes the window seat on the left side. This leaves Yoongi to sit at the opposite window – maybe the production crew can pass off his green face as jealousy, instead of churning nausea.
Yeona is wearing a short sundress, so Taehyung gallantly arranges a blanket over both of their laps, the edge overlapping onto Yoongi’s leg a little. So far Taehyung has definitely been winning the most-attentive date competition, but Yoongi can’t bring himself to care much about that right now. He’ll make sure to play his part later, when they aren’t careening through the sky at breakneck speeds, taking their very lives into their hands.
(Speaking of hands, he can privately admit that he misses Taehyung’s. Yoongi swallows hard and closes his eyes as the helicopter lifts straight into the air and lurches forward, defying all physics and sense.)
The ride is worse than the last two times, some unexpected wind causing enough turbulence that Yoongi really is worried that he might lose his meager lunch this time. Just as he starts to despair, he feels something – warm, lightly calloused skin next to his own hand beneath the blanket. He starts to look over, but those long fingers intertwine with his own and squeeze hard. I’m still here, they say. This is still about us.
It's still not a very fun ride, most of it spent quietly praying to anything or anyone who might listen to keep them aloft, but they do eventually land at the hotel, safe and sound. Taehyung hops down first to offer Yeona his hand – another point to him, if there were actually any points to be given. If anyone is even keeping track. The cameras are kind enough to focus on them instead of Yoongi, stumbling his way back down to land on shaky legs. He shades his eyes, squinting up into the bright sun that bakes the helipad’s pavement.
Around him, Yoongi can hear the low chatter of production staffers, directing people and equipment here and there for their next shoot. By now this has become almost background noise – it’s funny how quickly you can get used to a camera in your face at all times. They are whisked away into the hotel, barely given enough time to goggle at the swanky lobby and its vaulted ceilings before they are diverted into the carnival wing.
Yeona gasps as they step inside, covering her mouth with both hands, and it doesn’t seem like she has to fake her delight. It's truly an impressive set-up, like a full-sized night fair has been brought indoors, with all of the skill games and thrill rides, flashy lights and circus music. The scent of sweet kettle-corn and cotton candy permeates the air. The production team has given them license to more or less do what they like here as long as they hit a few of the classic attractions, but it’s still a little overwhelming having an entire small amusement park like this to themselves.
“What do you want to do first?”
Yoongi directs this question at both of his ‘dates,’ but it is Yeona who is expected to answer. She taps a finger against her lips, head tilted coyly.
“I think… I’d like to see you both try that,” she says, pointing at a game booth just across the way.
BAZOOKA BLAST, it advertises itself – appropriately masculine for the virtual dick-measuring contest it is meant to be. In contrast to this is the stacked mountain of stuffed toys at the back of the booth, in alternating layers of cartoonish Shiba Inus and Doberman Pinschers. It looks like the player is meant to aim the cannon at a small stack of cans and knock them down, and Yoongi imagines that the game must be rigged in some way to prevent too many prize winners. (More so or less than the average carnival, he couldn’t say. As much guests must pay to stay there, one would hope that the hotel’s games of skill are a little more forgiving.)
Yoongi makes a show of rubbing his hands together, pushing up his baggy shirtsleeves to his shoulders as if to give them an extra degree of flexibility. He catches Taehyung doing something similar, short sleeves rolled tight around the circumference of his biceps, and does his best to not allow his gaze to linger there. There are certain things that even creative camera-editing cannot give plausible deniability, and openly thirsting over another contestant’s muscles might be one of them.
“Looking good, hyung,” Taehyung calls, clicking his tongue with a wink as Yeona giggles.
Well, nevermind all that, then. The game is on.
Yoongi grips the bazooka’s bright blue handle with both hands like a steering wheel, tilting it to aim at the cans. Taehyung is unusually quiet as he focuses on his own aiming, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips cutely. As the hotel employee at the booth presses the button, the game starts up with a jangle of vaguely science fiction-sounding carnival music.
The rockets themselves are… underwhelming, to say the least. Similar to foam arrows, they shoot out of the ray gun-like bazooka at a decent velocity only to plink against the pyramid of cans with little fanfare. Yoongi snickers, thinking that this, too, is somehow appropriate for such a faux-macho game – until he notices that Taehyung has somehow managed to knock off the top can of his own stack with a second rocket, pumping his fist silently. Yoongi adjusts his strategy to try and catch up, but by the time he has managed to knock one of his cans down, Taehyung has cleared the rest of his own.
“Best two out of three, hyung?” The staff member has turned to pull one of the Shiba Inu toys down from the wall, but as it is placed in Taehyung’s hands he immediately passes it over to Yoongi. “Cute, right? You can hold on to that. For Yeona-ssi.”
The sly, over-exaggerated wink sent Yoongi’s way is cheesy as hell, but he gets the message. The stuffed toy is pretty cute, but no one will hear him saying so. He tucks it under his arm quietly as Taehyung beams at him.
“I pick the game this time,” says Yoongi.
When no one objects, he leads them to a booth with a set-up that is much more familiar. BASKETBALL, the sign says in a lit-up swoosh of lettering, a cartoon ball on fire. And so it is. This time there is actually a bit of skill involved, the nets set up far enough away that someone who is good at actual free throws will have an advantage. Little plush creatures in a rainbow of colors line the netting of the booth’s sidewalls, and Yoongi catches Taehyung eying them covetously.
With a twitch to his lips, Yoongi palms one of the basketballs placed at the front of the booth – it has been a while, but the way it fits in his hands is familiar, taking him back to his high school days. When the music starts, he lets the ball leave his fingertips in a graceful arc through the air that swishes through the net, near-silent and smooth. He picks up another, and another, to the same effect.
Not to be outdone, Taehyung sets up his own rapid shots that are decent but not quite as precise – a few hasty throws bounce off the backboard, one almost hitting Yoongi as he steps out of the way with a wry eyebrow to Taehyung’s laughing apology. The buzzer goes off as their time runs out, that same hotel staff member swooping in to fetch the winner’s prize.
“Yeah, that little green and yellow guy,” Yoongi drawls.
Privately he thinks the thing is ugly as hell, but Taehyung seems happy when Yoongi also entrusts “Yeona’s” latest prize to him for safekeeping. It will all read as incredibly hetero in post-production, Yoongi is sure: two guys competing for the affections of the same woman, trying to out-do each other to impress her, carrying all of her things so that she doesn’t have to lift a finger.
“One more game, boys,” Yeona reminds them. Yoongi turns in a slow circle, taking in the booths that remain to figure out which game he might have a tactical edge over Taehyung on. He isn’t sure when, exactly, he had started to care so much about winning.
“It’s my turn to choose,” says Taehyung. He nudges Yoongi in the ribs with the elbow of the arm that is holding his hideous creature. “Let’s do that one.”
He points to a game called TOP SPIN and Yoongi swallows the jokes that he could make. The staff member explains how it works, and Yoongi quickly understands why Taehyung chose it – much like the bazooka game, it favors both strength and precision.
“Press the trigger of the water gun and aim here,” the man says, pointing at the sign with the round bullseye that is helpfully labeled SHOOT HERE in capital letters, in case there was any doubt. “A steady stream will make the top spin and go into the hole, until it reaches the bottom.”
Somewhere, Hoseok must be laughing his ass off.
“Uh huh,” Yoongi says.
It’s a cute game, innuendos aside. On top of each round platform is a large stuffed penguin, their tuxedo patterns alternating between pink and blue. As the hotel staffer demonstrates, the water gun hitting the target makes the platform they are on spin around and go down. Yoongi and Taehyung perch on stools next to each other, waiting for the game-start music to play.
Taehyung clearly works out; Yoongi does Pilates. Taehyung creates abstract landscapes by holding a paintbrush with exacting precision; Yoongi carves away wood into functional works of art. They are close to evenly matched, but only one of them is internet-famous (apparently) for the way that he works with his hands. As it becomes clear that Yoongi’s platform is going down just a little bit faster, Taehyung makes an affronted sound of dismay. He makes a show of stubbornly tightening his grip on the trigger, but it is already too late – the platform of Yoongi’s penguin reaches its destination just a couple of seconds before Taehyung’s does.
With a quick, cheeky grin, Yoongi looks over his shoulder at Yeona, who has been very patient throughout this entire process. Might as well give the show something to work with, that layer of plausible deniability behind his and Taehyung’s friendly little competition.
“Which one would you like?” he asks, sweeping his arm to indicate the selection of Pokémon knock-offs that this game offers as prizes.
Yeona’s lips form a soft ‘oh’ shape like she is surprised to be asked. This morphs into a smile as she points to an Eevee toy hanging from the stall’s ceiling.
“Good choice,” Taehyung says with a nod, as the fennec fox-like stuffed animal is handed over to Yoongi for safekeeping.
As they turn away from the booth, Yeona clutches at Yoongi’s arm and gives it a gentle shake.
“That means you won,” she says. “Two out of three, right?”
Yoongi nods, a lazy, pleased smile tugging at his lips.
“I did,” he agrees. “What prize do I get, though?”
Yeona just giggles behind her hand again.
“I’m not so easily won,” she teases, even though Yoongi didn’t mean to imply that at all. “How about… hmm. You get to pick which ride we go on together!”
Their pickings are slim to begin with, the hotel amusement park’s relatively low ceilings necessitating all of the rides to be constructed almost in miniature when compared to the full-sized versions. Even so, as Yoongi looks around he can only feel preemptive nausea from a ominously tilted circular thrill-ride, how the bumper cars would rattle his teeth and the tea-cup ride would spin him into a dizzy daze, and the way that what looks like the world’s shortest bungee-drop ride would still make his stomach plummet. What is left after eliminating these is fairly uninspiring: mostly rides for children like a colorfully painted carousel illuminated by white lights, some tall metallic slides that wind around gnarled fake trees, and something called a “Happy Swing” that Yoongi privately thinks would make him anything but.
“That one,” he finally says, pointing at the small Ferris wheel that boasts amazing views but is in reality only about three or four times taller than one of the game booths. Well, Yoongi never much cared for heights, anyway.
The production team seems very happy with this choice, and Yoongi understands why: each gently-swaying compartment of the Ferris wheel is an intimate, enclosed space, perfect for one-on-one conversation. For flirtation, and for personal revelations. The narrow, almost delicate-looking metal doors to one of those compartments open as they approach, sliding onto a bench opposite each other. It’s really only designed for two people, but one of the show’s smaller camera operators squeezes in beside Yeona to get some close-up shots. Ah, alone at last.
As the ride jerks into motion, the compartment moving in a backward arc up toward the cavernous ceiling, Yoongi spares a quick glance back down at Taehyung, who was by necessity left behind for this. He seems unbothered at least, chatting with the staff members below, habitual hands in his pockets. He probably knows just as well as Yoongi how much of a farce this ‘date’ is. But they both will do what they must. When Yoongi returns his attention to Yeona, she is smiling at him shyly, hooking strands of her dark hair behind one ear.
“So,” she says. “Do you have any questions for me, Yoongi-ssi?”
Ah, right. The privileges of Paradise.
“Do you want me to ask, or do you want me to guess?”
Yeona taps her lips with a finger as she thinks about this.
“Guessing is more fun, isn’t it?” she finally says, decisive. “I’m curious what I might seem like to you.”
Quite frankly, Yoongi doesn’t have a clue. He feels less inclined to be playful about it, compared to his first night in Paradise with Taehyung. And Yeona seems like the type of woman who likes to dole out the teasing, but not necessarily receive it right back.
“A model,” he ventures, laughing softly as her face lights up.
“Aish, you’re too kind,” she says, bashful now, swatting at the air between them. “No, no. I’m a clothing designer. And a social media influencer, you might say.”
Yoongi imagines the montage video that will play over this portion of the show for her first time in Paradise, a dramatic reenactment of Yeona hard at work with her business. Everyone is an influencer these days, it seems. Marketing yourself and your skills seems to necessitate this, when you are a participant in the relentless march of capitalism.
Yoongi says none of this, though. He asks some softball questions about Yeona’s clothing line and also finds out that she is twenty-six years old. Only a little younger than Taehyung, then. (Yoongi isn’t quite sure when he started using the other man’s age as a point of reference.) He shares his own age and occupation, and Yeona makes all the appropriate sounds of surprise and delight.
“Can I call you oppa, then?” she asks, small teeth indenting shyly into her lower lip.
It occurs to Yoongi that either Yeona must actually be interested in him after all, or she is a very good actress. He should let this play out for the production, he thinks, but not give her false hope either. She seems like a nice enough person.
“Sure,” he says, tone carefully neutral. “I don’t mind.”
By now their compartment has settled at the Ferris wheel’s crest, where it is stopped for much longer than a normal ride would be. From this vantage point, they can see all of the carnival’s stalls and attractions, all of the sparkling lights and colorful signage. At this modest height it’s not exactly a breathtaking vista, but it’s something pleasant to look at. With the right person, it could even be a little romantic.
“Are you having a good time?” Yoongi asks. “This double-date set-up is pretty unusual, I guess.”
Yeona nods, her eyes reflecting the sparkles of light.
“You’ve both been perfect gentlemen. It has already been… quite revealing, one might say.”
And honestly, Yoongi is a little afraid to ask her what she means by that. He tilts his head, humming with gentle encouragement.
“I’ve learned that we don’t always get what we want, Yoongi-oppa,” Yeona continues, her smile somehow a little sad. “But I hope that you do. Both of you.”
Yoongi blinks several times, a rapid flutter. Is she implying that she knows that he and Taehyung…?
“Thanks,” he finally says. “Uh, you too.”
“Mmhm. You remind me a lot of my brother, you know? I wish that kind of happiness for him, as well.”
Her brother, who is like him. Yoongi reads the unspoken message in her words and holds his hand out on impulse for Yeona to grasp with soft fingers, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Those calluses,” she says, laughing. “You really are a carpenter.”
The cameras can spin this moment however they like, but Yoongi thinks that somewhere, Hoseok must be cheering.
The ride finally lurches back into motion again as Yoongi and Yeona enjoy a comfortable shared silence on their way back down. At the bottom, Yoongi is about to scoot out and join the others when he is stopped by a familiar hand on his shoulder, Taehyung ducking into the compartment with a grin to join Yoongi on his side of the bench seats. It’s a tight fit for two men, squeezed in hip to hip.
“One more time, hyung? I convinced them to let me ride, too.”
Of course he did – Yoongi is convinced that Taehyung could charm his worst enemy. And while Yoongi doesn’t particularly want to go around again, he knows he has already caved even before those softly eager brown eyes are turned on him. He is mostly just surprised that they didn’t force another camera in with them, but that might just be Hoseok pulling some strings.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung says, once the ride is back in motion. “You got my letter?”
The one that said ‘you know, right?’ Yeah, Yoongi got it. He nods, their faces close.
“Your answer,” Taehyung presses, one hand dropped to curl around Yoongi’s kneecap. And Yoongi can’t help but wonder if there was a clearer question that he missed, based on the way that Taehyung looks so serious and earnest about it.
“I’m sorry, Taehyung – I don’t–”
“If you don’t like me like that too, it’s okay. I just wanted to make sure that you knew.”
Oh.
“That you… like me?”
Taehyung nods, his curls bouncing.
“So much.”
And okay, Yoongi had some idea of this already from the flirting and the kissing and the… well. This feels like Taehyung is talking about more than that, though. Like something real. Something to hold on to, beyond the shiny, temporary artifice of this place.
“You know,” Yoongi says carefully, still with one foot on solid ground, “they aren’t going to let us leave the island together, hand in hand.”
Taehyung shrugs a shoulder, his thumb rubbing ticklish circles into the side of Yoongi’s knee.
“Is that important to you? Because it’s not important to me. We would know, hyung. Just us.”
The ride has shuddered to a stop at its peak again, the carnival lights shining below them. And Yoongi was right – it is very romantic. He isn’t sure how visible they are up here from below, but he is long past caring as he reaches for Taehyung to give him his answer.