Chapter Text
The opening was a resounding success, more than anyone had expected. The studio, filled with the hum of excited chatter and the rustling of art supplies, had become a haven for those seeking to nurture their creativity. Parents eagerly signed their kids up for after-school classes, thrilled by the chance to be part of something so special. But there was more to it than just the name. Nari’s reputation as an artist—already well-known, already respected—had grown with the release of her award-winning album cover for Serene. Over twenty accolades, yet no one knew the real story behind the art. Only Nari and Yoongi knew the secrets etched into that cover, which was now forever immortalized.
The framed cover hung proudly beside the entrance, simple yet striking in its dark wood frame. Behind the glass, the CD case and inserts had been replaced with a soft light, casting a faint glow that illuminated the figures on the cover—her and Yoongi, forever captured in that bittersweet moment, the shadows of the past lingering just behind them. It was an optical illusion of sorts, a subtle homage to everything they’d both gone through to get here.
As the evening wore on, the crowd slowly began to trickle out. Guests, many of them newcomers, exchanged excited goodbyes as they left. BTS stayed behind, their presence as steady and warm as it had been throughout the day. Jungkook, ever the gentle soul, was holding a tearful preschooler who didn’t want to leave. Hobi, who had been his constant companion throughout the day, knelt down beside the child, cooing soft "aigoos" and giving them a gentle pat on the back. Taehyung and Jimin waved goodbye to the kids, their smiles wide and genuine, a beacon of kindness. Meanwhile, Namjoon and Jin ushered the last group of high schoolers out, who were practically swooning with excitement as they clutched their phones, snapping a last few pictures before heading off into the night.
Nari smiled softly as she watched them go, her heart warmed by the affection and support from everyone. She knew her own accomplishments had helped open the doors, but it was the quiet yet unwavering endorsement from the boys that had really pulled the crowd in. And ARMY, as always, had come through, supporting Nari just as fiercely as they did the boys. But the thing was—it was never just about the fandom or the success. It was about something much deeper: a shared journey, a promise to move forward, together.
Yoongi, ever observant, stayed close to Nari the entire time. When he wasn’t helping with the cleanup, he sat beside her in the demo class, acting as though he were just another student, eager to learn. One of the younger kids had fallen, getting paint on his hoodie in the process. The child burst into tears, not because he was hurt, but because he was afraid he’d upset Yoongi. The room went still for a moment. Yoongi, with his characteristic ease, simply gave the child a silly face, making a show of scrunching his nose in a way that made the kid giggle. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice gentle. “No big deal. Let’s get you cleaned up and back to your seat.” The tension melted away, and the room felt a little warmer for it.
As the last guests trickled out, Jin collapsed onto one of the bean bags in the lounge area, his clothes still stained with paint from earlier. “I didn’t know we’d get this many sign-ups,” he muttered, wiping his sleeve across his forehead in an attempt to clear the smudges. His voice was tired but content.
“I told you to wear an apron,” Nari teased, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at the paint marks on his shirt.
The maknaes were sprawled across the couch, their exhaustion evident. Namjoon was at the door, locking it with a quiet finality. Hobi, ever the scavenger, had already started picking through the cupcakes left on the table, humming in delight as he took a bite. It felt like a small family gathering, the kind of warmth that comes from being surrounded by those you love, after everything they’ve been through.
“Thank you so much, everyone,” Nari said, her voice soft but filled with gratitude. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her shy smile reaching her eyes. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
Yoongi, who had been quietly taking it all in, glanced over at her. There was a flicker of something—pride, maybe? A quiet acknowledgment that things were finally starting to feel right again.
She smiled, a little more brightly now, as she pulled out her phone. “You know what? Dinner’s on me,” she said, her fingers already moving to open the delivery app.
The room erupted in cheers. Everyone began shouting out their orders, eager to fill their stomachs after a long, rewarding day. Yoongi, however, remained quiet, content to just watch, to let the noise wash over him. It felt so... normal. Peaceful. It had been a long time since he’d had a moment like this—without the constant pressure, without the dark clouds that had hung over them for so long.
It had been a year and a half since their lives had truly felt like this—quiet, calm, without the looming threat of Minjun or the lingering tension that had once suffocated their every move.
Before the studio had opened, Yoongi and the boys had made sure that every trace of Minjun was erased from Nari’s life. Most of the evidence—photos, CDs, anything tied to the dark past—had been seized by the police. The security system had been completely redone, and cameras were reinstalled only for Nari’s protection. It had been a painstaking process.
During those first weeks, one of the boys always stayed by her side. Most of the time, it was Yoongi. Sometimes, it was Jin or Jimin. When they were busy with schedules, they posted guards to watch over her. It was a gesture born from concern, but also from their own fear. It took time before Nari could convince them to let go.
“I’m okay,” she’d told them, offering a reassuring smile. “The new system works. You can check the cameras anytime. I’ll call if anything goes wrong.”
“You sure?” Jin had asked, as the eldest, his brotherly instincts hit always, his voice laced with worry. “I mean, 100% sure?”
She had smiled, the warmth in her gaze calming his nerves. “Oppa, I’m fine. He’s behind bars. He can’t hurt us anymore.”
And slowly, bit by bit, they had allowed themselves to breathe again.
Now, as they all sat in the studio, exhausted from the day’s events, the quiet hum of the room felt like a breath of fresh air. The food delivery was on its way, but for the first time in a long time, there was no rush. No looming threat. Just... peace.
Namjoon’s voice broke the calm, calling everyone to gather. “Oh, almost forgot,” he said, pulling up his calendar on his phone. “Promotions start on Monday. And then... we’ve got the world tour next month.”
“Oh yeah!” Jungkook suddenly straightened from his slouch, eyes widening as if something had just clicked. “Noona, thank you again for designing the cover of our new album.”
His grin was bright, boyish—still carrying the same wide-eyed awe that he had years ago.
“Ya!” Jin cut in dramatically, puffing out his chest. “It cost us a fortune to get the 20 time, award-winning, Kim Na-ri to design our cover. She’s practically a national treasure now.”
Nari snorted into her drink. “Oppa, you didn’t pay a single Won. You just sent me memes at 2 a.m. and promised to feed me kimbap.”
“That was payment,” Jin said, placing a hand over his heart. “My charming personality is very exclusive. Limited edition.”
“Your personality didn’t even cover shipping,” Jimin muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter.
Namjoon chuckled and tapped on his phone screen. “Anyway, tour kicks off with Southeast Asia, then North America, Canada, Europe, back to SEA, and finally home to Seoul.”
The room buzzed with energy, eyes lighting up at the prospect of being back on stage. No matter how seasoned they were, performing never lost its spark.
Nari leaned back on her palms, heart swelling as she watched them. She remembered when they huddled in cramped apartments, heated by shared ambition and cheap ramyeon. Now they were prepping for thirty cities. The dream had stretched into something real—loud, exhausting, wonderful.
She turned to look at Yoongi, who had shuffled a little closer. He didn’t say much—he never did—but the warmth he exuded was steady. Quiet, grounding.
“Six months, huh?” she murmured, almost to herself. She watched their faces light up as they chattered—plans for fan interactions, setlists, inside jokes only they understood.
“I hope you have fun out there, Grandpa,” she teased, gently nudging Yoongi’s leg with hers.
“Yeah,” he said, a soft exhale brushing past his lips. “Another six months…”
His voice trailed off, like there was something else he meant to say—but before he could, Jimin’s voice rang from the front of the studio.
“Noona! Delivery’s here!”
“Coming!” Nari called, pushing herself up with a groan.
She jogged to the door, rummaged through her pockets for her phone, and paid the delivery guy with a grateful smile. The familiar scent of fried chicken, pork cutlets, and tteokbokki filled the entrance.
“Alright, dinner’s here!” she announced, lifting the bags like a champion returning from battle.
The boys descended on the table like a well-trained team—plates out, drinks passed, chopsticks unwrapped in record time.
“You should’ve seen Jungkook earlier,” Jimin said through a mouthful of rice. “He had a whole parade of toddlers following him around like ducklings.”
Jungkook groaned, burying his face in his hands. “They wouldn’t leave me alone! One of them kept calling me ‘appa.’ Another asked if he could move in with me.”
“He cried when you said no,” Taehyung added helpfully. “You panicked and gave him a juice box.”
“I had seven of them in a straight line behind me. One tried to braid my hair,” Jungkook said, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. “When I crouched down, they all crouched down too. I looked like I was leading a baby cult.”
Everyone burst out laughing.
“You two!” Jin pointed an accusatory finger at Jimin and Taehyung. “That drawing contest was a disaster.”
“It was an artistic experience,” Taehyung said proudly. “And the prize was candy.”
“You gave all of them candy,” Jin groaned. “They were bouncing off the walls. One kid tried to draw on Hobi’s back.”
Hoseok raised both hands. “I felt a crayon touch my spine. It was a spiritual experience.”
“Meanwhile,” Namjoon sighed dramatically, “I was wrangling hormonal high schoolers who only signed up to stare at Jin.”
“They had excellent taste,” Jin said with a smug nod. “World wide handsome.”
Nari shook her head, laughing so hard her cheeks ached. “Just wait till you meet the college students next week.”
“College?” Hobi blinked, pausing mid-chew. “You’re opening more classes?”
She nodded, tucking her legs under herself. “Yeah. I already hired two people—one for reception, one to help with the kids. For now, it’s manageable.”
“We’ll drop by when we can,” Namjoon offered.
“No,” she said, gently but firmly. “After the tour, rest. You guys have earned it. I’ll be okay here.”
The food slowly disappeared, and the laughter softened into a hum of contentment. Warm, real, alive.
Eventually, one by one, they stood, hugged her goodbye, and filed out into the cold night, calling over their shoulders. Promises to text, to visit, to eat again together.
Yoongi stayed behind, as he always did.
They sat on the floor, backs resting against the same wall, sharing the quiet.
“Aish, I’m so full I can’t breathe,” Nari murmured, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. The scent of fresh paint lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the smell of fried food and something gentler—comfort.
Yoongi didn’t respond right away. His gaze lingered on the wall across the room, now filled with drawings from the day—tiny fingerprints of joy, hope, silliness. A living mural of first beginnings.
“You pulled it off,” he said finally, voice low but firm. “I told you you would.”
She smiled softly, her shoulder brushing his. “Couldn’t have done it without all of you.”
Yoongi didn’t move, but she felt the shift in him. The quiet pride. The peace.
“About the tour…” he began, more tentative this time.
“Hm?” she hummed, arms around her knees, heart still full from the day.
“It’s gonna be another six months…” Yoongi murmured, his gaze fixed on his open palm as he fidgeted with his fingers—restless, unsure.
His hands had always been a tell. When his thoughts were loud, they’d move before his words ever did.
“I’m not sure why but…” His voice faded, lost to the silence between them.
“But?” Nari whispered, her voice muffled as she buried her face between her knees.
There was a pause, heavy and thick, like something fragile about to be named.
“But life seems to always pull us apart,” he said at last.
Nari slowly lifted her head, her breath catching. She turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking back. He just stared down at his hands—calloused, stained with faint streaks of blue paint, skin dry at the knuckles. Tired hands. Honest hands.
“Don’t say that,” she said quietly.
She wasn’t even sure what she was responding to—the words themselves or the weight they carried. They didn’t talk about them. They never really had. There was always something unsaid, carefully tiptoed around, tucked behind responsibilities, fear, timing. It was easier to leave it undefined. Safer and it was always like that.
But now, there was something different. Not urgent. Not heavy. Just… real.
“Six months isn’t that long,” she added, reaching out and placing her hand on his open palm. Somehow touching him made felt new but felt old at the same time. Her fingers fit there like they’d always belonged—like she was just coming back to a place she had once left.
Yoongi looked down as her hand settled over his. He curled his fingers around hers gently, weaving them together. A single squeeze.
A silent thank you. A silent don’t go.
“So now what?” he asked finally.
His eyes met hers, and in them was the same question he’d asked once before—the night before her wedding. That night, his voice had been strained, brittle from holding back. Back then, it had been desperation, longing and begging.
But tonight was different.
There was no edge in his voice. Just quiet wonder. Like he was finally ready to ask without demanding an answer. Like maybe he could trust what the answer might be.
The look in his eyes was soft. Open. No urgency. No regret. Just a love that had waited, not because it was weak, but because it was patient.
The kind that survived.
“Well… maybe now…. us?” Nari said softly, her voice barely louder than the sound of her own breathing. She kept her knees pulled close to her chest, chin resting atop them.
Yoongi didn’t say anything—just waited.
“But… are we rushing?” she murmured. “I just got out of that hellhole of a relationship.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end, and she closed her eyes, as if trying to block out the flashbacks already creeping in.
Minjun’s voice. His promises. His perfect smiles. The way he made her doubt her own instincts. The coldness hidden beneath the warmth he wore in front of others. All the gaslighting, the cracks in the mask, the slow erosion of herself.
“I don’t know,” she sighed, voice brittle now. “Sometimes it still feels like he’s in the room.”
Yoongi’s brows furrowed. Not in frustration, but in that deeply protective way he had when she was hurting and didn’t want to admit it.
“I’m not him,” he said. His voice was low, firm, quiet—but carried weight.
She looked up slowly.
“God, no,” he added, eyes locking with hers. “I’m not him, Nari. And I don’t need you to rush. I don’t need anything from you except what you’re ready to give.”
Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t cry. Not yet.
“Then why now?” she asked, almost in a whisper. “Why bring this up if we’re only going to be apart again?”
Yoongi gave her a small, tired smile.
“Because I want you to know I’m not walking away anymore. Even when I leave for tour. Even when I’m in another time zone. Even when things get hard again.” His fingers brushed against hers, the touch so careful, like he was afraid to ask for too much. “I just want you to know there’s still an us, Nari. If you want there to be.”
And just like that, something settled in the air between them. Not a decision. Not a promise. But a quiet beginning.
“I’d like that,” Nari whispered, her voice trembling with something softer than fear—hope. “I like the thought of us finally being… us.”
She met his eyes, and for once, neither of them looked away. “Maybe it’s time we give this a real chance. We spent so long running from it, hiding behind timing and circumstance… but I don’t want to run anymore.”
Yoongi didn’t respond right away. He just looked at her—really looked—like he was memorizing the moment. Then, slowly, he leaned in and kissed her.
It was gentle at first, almost unsure. But the moment their mouths met, something shifted. Years of restraint melted into hunger. His hand cupped her cheek, then slid back to tangle in her hair as she kissed him back, just as desperate. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him on the floor, her hands pressed against his chest as his arms circled her waist, pulling her impossibly close.
Their lips parted only to breathe, to catch gasps between kisses that grew deeper, messier. His tongue found hers, and she moaned into his mouth, her fingers gripping the collar of his hoodie. He stood, lifting her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her into her small, dim office.
The door shut behind them with a soft click.
Yoongi set her down gently, but the moment her feet touched the floor, he was kissing her again, backing her against the desk. His hands slid beneath her shirt, calloused fingers skating over her warm skin. Her breath caught as he tugged the fabric over her head, his mouth moving to the base of her neck, kissing, biting softly as she arched into him hands exploring every inch of her.
“Tell me you want this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse against her skin.
“I do,” she breathed, already fumbling with the hem of his hoodie, dragging it off him. “I always have.”
His lips met hers again, rougher now, his hands roaming—exploring like he was learning her all over again. She let him. Wanted him to. Her skirt hiked up, her thighs tightening around his hips as she pulled him closer, his fingers slipping beneath the edge of her underwear.
She gasped when he touched her, when she felt his fingers slip in her, moving inside, one at first, then two, her head falling back as he whispered her name like a prayer. She spread herself wide, unashamed, letting him kiss her in her bare chest, letting him touch her like that.
His hands moving like haste in her, slipping effortlessly as her body responded, she let out breathless moans, and gasps. Then he finally stopped, a bit frustrated as she was already close, she met his gaze to ask for more but he stared her in her eyes and licked his fingers dry and knelt down, pushing her legs up, tracing hungry kisses in her thighs, until his lips met her. His tongue worked his magic. She hummed his name and let her body collapse on the table, shaking as she shattered in his mouth, and he accepted it, took all of it, every single drip.
Everything between them was heat and tension, but also trust—centuries of it packed into seconds. They were clumsy in their urgency, papers falling on the floor, the pencil holder rolling over, but there was reverence in every touch, every pull and sigh. Hastily Yoongi unbuckled his belt, pulling her to one of the chairs in the office, he sat down, and positioned her on top of him. When he finally guided her down onto him, their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them.
A promise.
She moved with him, slowly at first, pulling all the way before pushing deeper again. Then faster and faster as the tension grew. The room filled with soft, stifled sounds—her moans against his shoulder, his groans in her ear, the quiet thump of their bodies moving in sync. Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling gently as he held her tighter, deeper, the chair squeaked below them, quietly complaining of the harshness their body was portraying.
They lost time in that office. Lost themselves in each other. When one round turned into another and another and another til their legs gave out, til every part of them was aching and dry and red. Their stamina betrayed them, the marks on their backs as proof of what happened. Their hunger for each other was evident in the way they were now out of breath, sticky and shaking.
When it was over, they stayed like that—wrapped in each other, hearts thudding in tandem, foreheads pressed together as the silence returned. But it wasn’t empty. It was warm. Safe.
“I’m not going anywhere anymore,” he whispered.
And this time, she believed him.
*****
The days leading up to the tour blurred into a kind of aching routine—equal parts breathless and tender. As the sun dipped lower each evening, Yoongi would slip out of meetings with a quick bow, barely pausing long enough to acknowledge his team’s teasing smiles. His steps were always hurried, purposeful—like something magnetic was tugging him forward.
Nari was usually doing the same—handing over the last checklist to her assistant, locking the studio doors behind her as the last traces of paint and laughter faded into the night. Her eyes always flicked to her phone, waiting for his message.
Here. Outside. Come up.
They met wherever they could. Most nights, it was her house—closer to the studio, quiet and still carrying the scent of dried oil paint and fresh coffee. Some nights, it was his apartment, where the only light came from the soft glow of the kitchen under-cabinet bulbs, and his cat barely stirred at the sound of keys turning. On the busiest nights, they didn’t even make it that far—just met halfway, two parked cars under dim streetlamps, windows fogged, breaths shallow.
And every time, it was the same.
No small talk. No hesitation. Just the press of mouths and the drag of hands, like they were relearning the shape of each other from scratch. Like the silence between their bodies had waited too long to be broken. It wasn’t gentle—it couldn’t be. It was messy, frantic, like they were pouring everything unsaid into the curve of a hip, the back of a neck, the shudder of breath against skin.
Sometimes he would bury his face into her shoulder afterward, his breath still uneven, her fingers sliding into his hair, quiet but steady. Other times, she’d hold his wrist a little longer than necessary, not saying a word, just pressing her thumb into the space where his pulse beat strongest.
They didn’t talk about what it meant. They didn’t have to.
Each time was a promise—silent and sacred. A grounding before the distance. A reassurance that no matter how far Yoongi would go, no matter how loud the stages or how bright the lights, some part of him would always come back to her.
“You’re heading out again?” Jin asked without looking up, legs crossed and photobook open on his lap, one hand flipping a page while the other toyed with a pen.
Yoongi was already halfway to the door, phone in hand, hoodie half-zipped like he hadn’t even planned to stay in the first place.
“Hyuuuuung ~ We’re literally about to eat,” Jimin said, stretching out on the couch dramatically like he was heartbroken. “You ghost us the second the meeting ends, hyung. What gives?”
Yoongi didn’t answer right away, just pulled his cap lower and pushed the door a little.
“Let me guess,” Namjoon spoke up from where he sat scrolling through emails, tone deadpan. “You’re going to Nari’s again.”
Taehyung made a sound that was half gasp, half cackle. “Oh my god, are you two even sleeping these days? Or is it just—” He made an aggressive hand gesture and then smirked.
“Gross,” Jungkook said from the far corner, not looking up from his bag of chips. “But accurate.”
“Can I please leave without getting interrogated?” Yoongi said, voice low and mildly exasperated, but with the kind of weariness that meant this wasn’t the first time they’d clowned him today.
“Depends,” Hobi piped up cheerily from beside the snack table. “On whether or not you explain why your legs buckled during choreo earlier.”
Yoongi shot him a look. “They did not.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook chimed in, voice muffled with chips, “you literally almost collapsed during ‘Ugh!’ I thought you were having a medical emergency.”
“Ya!,” Yoongi snapped. “Why are you talking!”
“I’m helping,” Jungkook said, grinning.
“Seriously, you’ve been running off so fast lately I’m starting to think you’re in a drama,” Taehyung said. “All that’s missing is a romantic OST playing while you sprint down a hallway.”
“Hyung used to nap between sets,” Jimin added. “Now he’s full of energy and mystery. Suspicious.”
“I bet they don’t even make it inside the house,” Taehyung mused. “Just straight to—” he made another aggressive hand motion and then mimed collapsing in a heap.
“I’m ignoring all of you,” Yoongi muttered, turning the doorknob again.
“Wait wait wait,” Jin said suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Do they even talk? Or is it just vibes and violence?”
“Oh definitely violence,” Namjoon deadpanned.
“With occasional music,” Hobi said. “I’m imagining like— percussion-heavy moments.”
“Stop,” Yoongi snapped, but his ears were already tinged red.
“I’m just saying,” Jimin said, holding his palms up in mock surrender. “You don’t even say goodbye properly anymore. Just disappear. Poof! Like Batman. If Batman was in love and constantly horny.”
“HYUNG’S STAMINA GOT BUFFED,” Hobi shouted like a sports announcer, earning another round of laughter.
“That’s what I said!” Taehyung yelled. “He’s enhanced now.”
Jungkook coughed. “He’s in his final form.”
“Shut the hell up,” Yoongi growled, already halfway out the door. “I hate you. All of you. I’m leaving”
“Tell her we said hi!” Jimin called, grinning.
“Use your knees, not your back!” Hobi added with a wink.
“Don’t let your legs give out again!” Jungkook wheezed, clutching his stomach from laughing.
The door slammed shut behind Yoongi, his annoyed footsteps echoing down the hall.
There was a beat of silence.
“He didn’t deny a single thing, ” Jin noted.
“Not a word,” Namjoon echoed, raising an eyebrow.
They all burst into laughter again, loud and chaotic.
In the hallway, Yoongi stared at his phone, thumbs flying across the screen.
yoongi:
your fault
yoongi:
they’re
insufferable
nari:
😇😂😂😂
yoongi:
you’re
paying
for this later
nari:
please. like you’re not sprinting over right now 🧍♀️
He pocketed the phone, tried not to smile, and picked up the pace.
****
Yoongi collapsed on top of her, his skin slick with sweat, chest rising and falling in rapid bursts as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. A long, muffled groan escaped him like his soul had just been sucked out.
“I think I’m gonna die,” he breathed, voice hoarse, still panting.
Nari laughed breathlessly beneath him, her arm flopped over her forehead as she stared up at the ceiling like it might start spinning. “That was… intense,” she managed between gulps of air.
“You think?” he muttered, voice thick with disbelief as he slowly rolled off her and onto his back. After a beat, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat there, hunched over like he’d just finished a marathon. “It’s because you were teasing me before I could even get here.”
Nari grinned, still catching her breath. “I just sent a few texts.”
“You sent threats ,” Yoongi countered, glancing at her over his shoulder. “You practically scheduled the attack.”
“You liked it.”
He didn’t argue.
Instead, he reached for the water bottle on the nightstand and took a long sip, then offered it to her without looking. She took it with a lazy thank you, their fingers brushing briefly.
A comfortable silence settled between them. Just the sound of their breaths slowly syncing again, the sheets rustling as Nari turned onto her side to face him.
“I think we broke the bedframe,” she said eventually.
Yoongi glanced back, eyes narrowing at the slightly crooked headboard. “We’re not telling anyone.”
“I’m telling Jimin.”
“Absolutely not. ”
She laughed again, softer this time—warm and sleepy. “You always get so grumpy after.”
Yoongi didn’t deny it, just scrubbed a hand through his hair and let out another sigh, this time quieter. Like the weight of everything was starting to settle again. The tour. The distance. The way these fleeting nights with her were never enough.
“So… one more week,” Nari murmured, her voice soft against the quiet of the room.
Her fingers moved gently along Yoongi’s back, tracing slow, absentminded circles into his skin. His warmth lingered beneath her touch—familiar, grounding. She didn’t even realize she was doing it at first. It was just instinct now. Like memorizing him before she had to let go again.
Yoongi groaned, his cheek smushed into the pillow as he let his muscles relax even further. “Stop that,” he muttered, voice muffled. “I haven’t even recovered.”
“I’m not initiating anything,” she giggled, her nails lightly skimming his spine. “I just… like doing this.”
He cracked one eye open at her, still not lifting his head. “What—teasing me?”
She grinned. “No. I mean… maybe a little. But mostly just this.” Her tone turned softer, her fingertips slowing. “Touching you like this. Like you’re here. Like you’re staying.”
Yoongi was quiet for a moment. His eyes closed again, his body still except for the rise and fall of his breathing. Then he reached back blindly, his hand finding her thigh and resting there.
“I wish I could,” Yoongi said softly. “Stay.”
The smile faded from Nari’s lips, replaced by something quieter—tender, but tinged with sorrow. She didn’t answer right away. Her fingers just kept moving, drawing lazy circles along the lines of his back, as if maybe—just maybe—it could slow time down for them.
“It’s just six months,” she murmured finally, the words more hopeful than certain. “We’ll call every day, right?”
She inched closer, tucking herself into the curve of his arm, fitting there like a missing piece. Her hand rested lightly on his chest, as if anchoring herself to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Of course we will,” Yoongi said, without hesitation. “We’ll make time. I promise.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then pulled her in tighter, tucking his face into her hair like he wanted to memorize the scent of her shampoo, the shape of her against him, everything.
And just like that, Nari drifted into sleep—her breathing slow and steady, her expression finally at peace.
Yoongi, though, stayed awake.
That calm on her face made his chest ache. It made him wonder—worry—if distance would change something between them. He knew what was coming: the chaos of touring, the brutal schedule, the endless cycle of soundchecks, rehearsals, meet-and-greets, post-show dinners, lives, flights, hotels… and barely any sleep in between.
He’d done it a hundred times before. But this time, it felt different.
This time, there was something—someone—he was scared of losing.
Of course he knew—Nari would understand. She always did.
It wasn’t like this was their first time navigating a tour while she stayed behind. She’d been around for most of them. The first time, she was simply happy for them, eyes bright with pride, cheering them on from afar. They were younger then—still chasing dreams they hadn’t quite caught yet. The second tour felt similar, but by then, things had started to shift. The feelings were there, lingering between them, but unspoken, no confessions, nothing.
Back then, their texts were rare—hesitant check-ins spaced days apart. Nari would send a message and wait three days for a reply, sometimes longer. When Yoongi did answer, it was brief. Just a “yeah,” or “I’m good.” Maybe a short “miss you,” if he was feeling bold. But there were no expectations between them then. No labels. No promises.
And even with that kind of distance, even when nothing was defined, Yoongi had barely managed it.
So now, with everything out in the open—with hearts fully laid bare and someone actually waiting on the other end—he didn’t know how he’d manage.
Because now there were expectations.
Now, there was her.
And the thought of disappointing Nari—of making her feel like she wasn’t a priority—terrified him more than the stage ever could.
****
The cold sunday morning air stirred Nari awake, a quiet shiver crawling across her skin. The window had been left slightly open, letting in the early dawn breeze. Still groggy, she reached for the nearest thing—Yoongi’s shirt from the floor—and pulled it over her head, the soft fabric brushing against her bare skin. She padded quietly across the room, toes curling against the wood floor, and closed the window with a soft click.
Outside, the world was just beginning to wake. The sky wore a deep shade of blue, slowly fading into a gentle gold along the horizon. Everything was still. Silent. Like the whole world had paused.
She turned back to the bed, her eyes falling on the man still tangled in the sheets.
Yoongi was asleep, his features completely relaxed. His mouth was parted slightly, breaths coming slow and even. The blanket had made its way up to his chin, and the mess of his long hair spilled over the pillow and across his cheek. The faint light of the rising sun bathed his skin in a soft, almost ethereal glow.
Nari smiled—something small, quiet, full of warmth—and walked toward him. The bed let out a familiar creak as she sat by his side, right where the frame had cracked last night beneath them. She reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face, fingertips barely grazing his cheek.
This was it.
The man she had always loved.
And the one who had always loved her—quietly, steadily, even when life got in the way.
She slid slowly beside him again, closing her eyes to the soft hum of his breaths, and morphed away into slumber.
****
Nari stretched awake, her body ached from the night before but it had been aching everyday since, so she got used to it.
Her hands reached the far side of the bed, here she expected warmth, but none.
She jolted upright, her breath catching in her throat as her hand reached instinctively for the empty space beside her. Cold sheets. Her chest tightened. He hadn’t said goodbye? He always say goodbye.
For a split second, she was back in that onsen—back to that hollow morning when she’d woken up alone, when Yoongi had slipped away without a word and shut her out completely afterward. The beginning of everything falling apart.
Heart racing, Nari scrambled for her phone on the nightstand, fingers fumbling across the screen. A new notification blinked at her.
Yoongi 🐱♥️
“
Need to head out early. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, and I didn’t wake you up cause you looked tired…
😉
”
“
Dinner’s on me? See you later
😚
”
A breathless laugh escaped her lips. Relief washed over her, light and fizzy, like champagne bubbles in her veins. She grinned—really grinned—like a giddy high schooler with a crush.
Still smiling, she swiped to unlock her phone, ready to reply, when something caught her eye. Her wallpaper was different. She blinked. It was dark, grainy almost, like it had been taken at night. She squinted.
Her heart did a full 360.
It was a photo. Their photo. She was asleep, nestled in Yoongi’s arms—peaceful, unaware. He had taken the picture himself, kissing her forehead as she dozed. His eyes were barely in frame, just the soft curl of his lashes, the tip of his nose. It was… intimate. Ridiculously cheesy. This is so not him , but also, it was him, in the quietest, most unexpected ways.
She fell back onto the pillows with a little squeal, laughter bubbling out as she kicked her feet under the blankets like a teenager in love. Which, technically, she wasn’t. She was a grown woman, the same age as Yoongi. But somehow, with him… it still felt brand new..
The clock read 10:07 AM. Studio was closed today. No classes, no meetings.
Maybe I should cook them lunch, she thought, stretching like a cat in the sunlight. The boys were probably knee-deep in rehearsals. A warm meal might be just the thing they needed.
Nari rolled out of bed, hopped in the shower with a spring in her step, and soon, the apartment was filled with the scent of simmering broth, sizzling oil, and marinated bulgogi. She packed everything up with practiced hands, her phone buzzing softly every now and then with silly updates from the group chat—mostly Jungkook complaining about Namjoon stealing his banana milk again. She hadn’t told the boys she'd be dropping by, she wanted it to be a surprise.
Within the hour, her car was loaded, keys in hand, and her heart full.
She sped off toward rehearsal, humming along to the song on the radio, cheeks still warm from that damn photo.
***
“Thank you,” Nari said with a smile, handing her ID to the familiar receptionist in exchange for a keycard. It felt like muscle memory—walking into this building, greeting people she used to see every single day.
“How’ve you been?” someone asked as she passed by.
“Still glowing, Nari-ssi!” another teased.
She returned their greetings with warm smiles and soft chuckles. It had been years, but everything still felt like home. She missed this sometimes—the rhythm of it all, the purpose of a full calendar. Still, she liked her slower days now. No alarms. No panic calls. Just time.
The elevator ride up was quiet, save for the hum of her heartbeat and the soft clinking of containers in her tote. When she finally stepped out and reached the door to the practice room, her arms were trembling slightly under the weight of all the food. Just as she adjusted her grip to free a hand, a passing staffer noticed and held the door open for her.
Inside was a familiar kind of chaos:
Jungkook and Jimin were collapsed on the floor, completely star-fished, while Hobi sat upright against the mirror, scrubbing at his damp neck and watching practice footage like a coach mid-game.
On the other side, the “Kim line”—Namjoon, Jin, and Taehyung—were being attended to by staff, getting patted down and rehydrated like tired warriors fresh from battle.
And Yoongi, of course, was stretched across the sofa like a cat in the sun, eyes closed, letting staff fan him and wipe his forehead while he didn’t move an inch.
The moment Nari stepped in, the door clicking shut behind her, Jin’s head snapped toward the sound. His eyes squinted like he was trying to confirm a ghost.
“Nari?!” he called, voice pitched with disbelief.
Jungkook shot up like he’d been electrocuted, “Noona?!”
Jimin rolled onto his side, blinking like he wasn’t sure if it was real or a dream.
“What—what are you doing here?” Jungkook was already halfway across the room, bounding toward her like an excited puppy.
Yoongi’s eyes flew open at the sudden commotion, and in his rush to sit up, he almost rolled off the sofa. A staff member quickly caught the fan before it hit the floor.
Nari felt the heat rise to her cheeks as every pair of eyes landed on her. She held up the bags sheepishly. “I… brought some lunch.”
Cheers erupted like she’d just announced a winning lottery ticket. Jimin practically danced toward her, while Taehyung jogged over with wide eyes and a dramatic gasp. Jin clutched his chest like he was about to cry.
“Ya! You’re feeding us? Did I die? Is this heaven?”
“I knew it—Yoongi-hyung summoned her with sheer will,” Hobi said, getting to his feet.
Yoongi was suddenly beside her, hand reaching for one of the bags to lighten her load. He didn’t say much, just gave her that small look—the one only she got to see.
As the boys helped carry the food to the long practice table, staff began filtering out one by one, some smiling knowingly, others simply grateful for the break. The room shifted, a little more relaxed, a little warmer now. Like she’d brought more than just food with her.
She’d brought a little piece of home.
Everyone was full and happy, the kind of happiness that only came from good food and better company. The takeout containers were half-stacked, half-scattered across the folding tables in the corner of the studio, empty drink bottles clinked occasionally as someone shifted in their chair. Nari had snagged the edge of the couch, and Yoongi sat next to her—close, not touching, but close enough that his presence brushed against her skin with every breath.
They didn’t say much, didn’t have to. Yoongi would look over now and then, eyes soft, like he was still surprised she was here. And every once in a while, their hands would meet beneath the table, fingertips brushing, palms pressing. She would squeeze once; he would squeeze back. It felt like a secret language they were relearning.
“Can you two knock it off?” Jin groaned dramatically, pointing a chopstick at them. “Some of us are trying to digest without drowning in secondhand heart eyes.”
The room burst into laughter. Even Yoongi cracked a rare, crooked smile. Nari ducked her head with a laugh of her own, cheeks warming.
“How’s the studio going?” Namjoon asked, ever the anchor. He’d propped one leg over the other and was munching on a piece of sweet potato.
Nari straightened a bit. “It’s good, actually. We’ve got four classes now—preschool, elementary, high school, and college.”
“That’s a whole department,” Jimin said, eyes wide. “You’re a professor now, huh?”
“Hardly,” she chuckled. “More like… overworked and running on caffeine.”
Yoongi leaned closer, just enough that their shoulders touched. “Sounds familiar,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Before Nari could respond, Taehyung chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. “So… do you guys still sleep?”
Jungkook choked on his water, coughing into his elbow. “Hyung!”
Taehyung wiggled his eyebrows. “I mean with work , obviously.”
“Sure, that’s what you meant,” Jin said, tossing a balled-up napkin at him.
Yoongi, for his part, just rolled his eyes and chucked a tissue directly at Taehyung’s forehead. “You’re the worst.”
“ I’m the fun one, ” Taehyung corrected proudly, arms spread wide.
It was warm. Easy. The kind of laughter that didn’t need effort. For a moment, Nari forgot everything else—the headlines, the rumors, the past. She was just here. With him. With them. It was nice.
“Knock knock!” a new voice rang from the studio doors, sharp and bright like a bell. Light, lilting. Practiced.
The room paused.
Like a record needle scratching for half a second before the music found its groove again.
Nari turned toward the door.
A woman stood there, tall and confident. She had long black hair swept into a sleek ponytail, the kind that didn’t move even when she did. She was holding a clipboard, dressed in smart, tailored slacks and a tucked-in blouse that was a little too chic for studio work. There was a playfulness in her smile, but it felt like it had been rehearsed in the mirror first.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, stepping in with a smile that somehow managed to take up all the space in the room. “But rehearsal calls. You boys ready to sweat off that feast?”
Yoongi’s hand slipped away from Nari’s the moment she stepped in, so quickly it startled her. She blinked down at her lap, her fingers still half-curled where his had been.
“Oh! Hye-jin,” Namjoon said, already rising to his feet. “Come meet Nari.”
He gestured toward her with a warm smile. “This is Hye-jin, our new manager. She joined a few weeks ago.”
Hye-jin’s gaze slid to Nari like a well-oiled machine, eyes sharp behind her polished smile. “Ah. Nari. I’ve been hearing so much about you.”
Her voice was sweet, friendly even—but Nari couldn't quite read the tone underneath.
Nari stood up politely and bowed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Hye-jin stepped forward with a playful click of her heels. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about the food,” she said, scanning the table. “I think I walked into a five-star buffet. You did all this?”
Nari nodded. “Just thought I’d bring lunch.”
“Lunch?” Hye-jin chuckled, flipping a page on her clipboard like she wasn’t really looking at it. “This is a whole catering service. You’ve officially raised the bar for all future meals. Thanks a lot.”
The boys laughed politely. Nari smiled back, even if it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Hye-jin turned to Yoongi then, eyes twinkling. “You didn’t tell me your.... girlfriend... was so domestic. What else are you hiding?”
Yoongi didn’t respond right away. His face was unreadable, somewhere between tired and thoughtful. “I didn’t think I needed to,” he said simply.
Hye-jin grinned. “Touché.”
Then she clapped her hands once. “Alright, break’s over, Romeo and friends. Let’s get you guys moving before you all fall asleep.”
The shift was so casual, so gentle, and yet the spell of lunch was broken. Chairs scraped, wrappers crinkled. Staff began clearing out. The boys moved sluggishly, but they moved.
Nari picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “I should probably go.”
Yoongi glanced at her, hesitating.
“I’ll… see you later?” she added softly.
He nodded once, and for a second, it looked like he might reach for her again.
But Hye-jin was already sweeping through the room like a breeze. “C’mon, Yoongi—we need you on the floor. No more romantic goodbyes, we’ve got a show to prep.”
She didn’t say it unkindly. In fact, she was laughing as she said it. But it clipped the moment short all the same.
Nari managed a wave to the rest of the boys. “Thanks for eating everything.”
“Thanks for bringing it!” Jimin beamed.
“Come back soon!” Taehyung added.
Jungkook raised his water bottle in a toast. “Best lunch of the year, no joke.”
Yoongi turned to look at her one more time, his face softer now. He mouthed I’ll call you over his shoulder before turning back toward the center of the room.
Nari gave a small nod and stepped out into the hallway.
The door closed behind her, muffling the voices and the laughter inside. The fluorescent lights buzzed above. She exhaled slowly and tucked her hands into her coat pockets.