XLV

POV: Namjoon

It felt different tonight.

The air — heavier. Louder. Tender, in a way only the last of something can be.

The final night of the tour.

Our final bow.At least for a while.

And the fans — ARMY — they knew it too. You could feel it. In the way they screamed with their whole chests. In the way the chants sounded more like prayers. In the tears, in the laughter, in the way every ocean-lightstick felt like it was reaching toward us, like hands saying don't go.

It wasn't just a concert anymore.

It was a moment in history.

And I was about to change it forever.

I tried to breathe. I'd practiced that too.

Just breathe, Joon. You've got this.

Yoongi nudged my arm lightly before heading back on stage after the final ment.

"You're shaking," he said, smirking like the devil but with eyes too soft to match. "Wanna back out now?"

I tried to grin. "Wouldn't be me if I wasn't."

He chuckled and gave my shoulder a pat. "You're a poet, not an actor."

And he was right.I'd never been good at pretending. Not with words. Not with her.

The backstage lights dimmed a little, the crew moving in a practiced flow around us. There was sweat in the air, the electric kind that builds after two hours of dancing, singing, and holding the hearts of seventy thousand people in your hands.

I could hear their roar even from back here. "Encore! Encore!"

And for a second — a small, ridiculous second — I thought, Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I should keep our world private. Maybe this love is too precious to hand over to the wild.

Then Seokjin came up beside me. Slung an arm around my neck like a big brother does when he knows you're losing courage.

"You sure you're not going to pass out up there?"

"I'm... not sure of anything," I admitted, half-laughing, half-dying inside.

He leaned closer. "It's brave, what you're doing." Then he looked me in the eye. "But you've never been just an idol, Joon. You've always been human first. That's why they love you. And that's why they'll love her, too."

He meant it.

He always meant it.

Across the green room, Jungkook was hopping slightly in place, punching the air, muttering, "Let's goooo" like it was a sports match and not my heart about to be laid bare.

Jimin stood beside him, fixing his in-ear, eyes glued to me. He didn't speak at first — just stared in that way only Jimin could. The kind of stare that strips the lies off your face.

"You're not scared of their reaction," he finally said, voice low. "You're scared of your own."

I blinked. "What?"

"You're scared this makes it real. That it's not just your love anymore. It's the world's now. Once you say it, you can't take it back."

I swallowed hard.

"Yeah," I admitted.

He smiled gently, the way only Jimin smiles when he knows you're hurting and wants to help carry it. "You've always been brave with your lyrics, hyung. Now just speak like you would in a verse."

Tae walked past humming the new melody like he'd memorized it in his bones. "Do you want me to cry on cue or should I wait for the proposal part?" he asked dramatically.

I laughed, grateful. "Wait. Please. I can only handle one breakdown at a time."

Then he grew serious, turned around, and came up to me — closer this time.

"I've seen the way you look at her," he said quietly. "I've seen it from day one. And I've never seen you more yourself than when you're with her."

He held up a finger. "If anyone tries to make this less than beautiful... I'll unleash ARMY on them personally."

"Like a Gucci-wearing attack dog?"

"Exactly," he grinned. "With perfect cheekbones."

Hobi was the last.

He was quieter than usual. Bouncing less. Eyes darting between me and the stage like he was absorbing every energy shift in the room.

He pulled me into a hug.

Not one of those casual ones — but one of his hugs. The kind that makes you feel like you're being held by someone who's known your soul longer than you have.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered against my shoulder. "You didn't have to share this with us. Or them. But you did. Because you want her to be part of everything. That's love, Jonnie."

I pressed my forehead to his.

"Thank you, hyung" I said.

We stepped back. He squeezed my hand.

"Let's go make history."

As the last chorus of "Mikrokosmos" faded into the roar of the crowd, she walked out.

Y/N.

God.

She was calm like always. Graceful. Glowing. That same serenity that made people feel safe just by standing near her.

She held the mic in one hand, the other brushing her dress down as if trying to remember she had legs. I knew she was nervous — but she hid it well.

Her voice rang across the stadium: "ARMY, this has been a magical night. Thank you for all the love, for all the years, and for standing by BTS with your whole hearts."

The crowd roared. A wave of light and sound.

She glanced over her shoulder at us, smiled, and added, "But... for the last night of the tour, someone else wanted to plan the encore. So I'm gonna pass the mic... to Namjoon."

The boys hollered and clapped dramatically behind me. Tae threw fake confetti from his pocket. I laughed and took the mic, but before she could turn to leave, I caught her wrist.

Softly. Gently. Like I always touched her — like she was something sacred.

"You'll want to stay for this one," I said in the mic. "With us. Here."

Her eyes searched mine.

I watched the realization hit — and her breath caught just slightly.

She didn't speak. Just nodded once.

And stayed.

We turned around as the stage lights dimmed.

The world hushed.

And the screens lit up.

Then... there I was — alone in my studio, bathed in warm light, framed by shelves filled with books, records, fragments of a life I'd been building piece by piece. The camera caught me blinking, pausing, fingers laced together like I was steadying myself.

I spoke.

"ARMY,"my voice echoed across the stadium, low and steady,"I love you so much. You've given me more than music, more than fame, more than dreams.

You've given me a place to grow. To breathe.

And most importantly...to love."

It felt like the entire stadium inhaled at once. And held it.

I kept going.

"Because of you... I've learned to love myself. Not just in theory. But really. Deeply.

So much so... that I had room to love someone else too."

A melody began to play.

Unreleased. Unnamed. Mine.

The piano was soft, pulsing. My voice joined it in the background, low and intimate.

"You saw me when I was only shadows,traced the cracks I tried to hide.Called me home without a map,and I came running every time."

Whispers ran through the crowd. Someone screamed. Another clutched their heart. Phones went up. Eyes blurred.

And then...

The video began.

〝Our Story〞(Namjoon's new Song)

It started quiet — a handheld camera, a grainy video.

She was laughing. Barefaced, hoodie on, sitting cross-legged on the studio couch, teasing me for losing a game of chess.

Then came the early days:Me nervously offering her coffee at a photoshoot.Her walking past my desk, me stealing a glance I thought the camera wouldn't catch.That first dinner with all the members, where I sat across from her, and Yoongi kept kicking me under the table to stop me from staring.

Cut to:Studio moments. Her in oversized headphones, eyes closed, nodding to one of my unfinished demos.Her fingers tapping out a beat.Me watching her, jaw soft, undone.

The song rose again —

"You made the silence feel like safety,made my chaos sound like peace.In a world that moves too fast,you're the moment I can keep."

The next scene was stupid. Hilarious.She was in my hoodie, spinning in my kitchen to lo-fi beats, holding a spatula like a mic.I was off-camera laughing — the kind of laugh you don't fake. The kind that scrapes the fear out of your chest.

Then:Her head on my shoulder on tour.My hand finding hers during a storm.Me catching her tear at a concert and kissing it off her cheek behind the curtain.

One by one, the members appeared.

Taehyung, in a beanie, grinning:

"I knew before he did. The way he looked at her... man, that was it."

Jungkook in the dance studio:

"She fits in. Like she was always meant to be part of us. Like... our puzzle was missing a piece and we didn't know."

Yoongi, dry and warm:

"He's lighter now. Happier. That says enough."

Jimin, teary-eyed, cuddling their dog:

"They make me believe that love doesn't have to be loud to be powerful. It's just there. Like air."

Hobi, eyes shining:

"She doesn't just love Joon. She sees him. The whole of him. And he lets her. That's rare."

Jin, in his classic drama voice:

"I told him: if you don't marry her, I will. I'm only half-joking."

The crowd screamed.

ARMYs were sobbing, shouting, chanting. Some were frozen. Others collapsed into each other. Phones shook in trembling hands.

And then: Cabo da Roca.

Golden hour kissed the screen. The wind was soft. The waves hit the rocks like a drumbeat.

There I was.

Down on one knee.

Her eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth. My voice cracked.

"Will you marry me?"

She was crying, laughing, falling forward into my arms saying,

"Yes. Yes. Of course, yes."

The scene cut to all the members charging in — Jin running like a drama actor, Tae yelling, Hobi spinning her, Jungkook jumping, Yoongi smiling that quiet smile, Jimin just sobbing again into her shoulder.

The screen faded. The lights rose. And I turned to her — no longer a memory, but here. Now.

I reached into my pocket.

This time — no hiding.

I dropped to one knee again. Right there in front of the whole world.

And slid the ring on her finger where it belonged.

"You've always had my heart.Now you can wear it, too."

The stadium detonated.

A scream — not of shock, not of betrayal — but of wild, unfiltered joy. The kind that lifts the roof off reality and sends it soaring to the stars.

People shouted, cheered, cried. Fans clutched their chests. Some jumped. Some fell to their knees. Some kissed the stranger next to them.

"YES JOON!""WE LOVE HER!""PROTECT THEM AT ALL COSTS.""MRS KIM ""REAL LOVE EXISTS""YOU DESERVE THIS"

I heard it all.

And then I spoke.

"ARMY," I said, still holding her hand,"Do we have your blessing?"

The screams became one voice. One word.

YEEEEESSS.

I turned to the boys.They were crying. Laughing. Shaking their heads.Our family, whole.

She looked at me like I was the beginning and end of every song.

And I said it, finally:

"Thank you... for giving me the courage to love this freely.

I love you, ARMY.

And I love her.

More than words.

More than life."

The music swelled.

The lights rose.

The world exploded into joy.

And I...I had never felt so alive.

So free.

So home.

I pulled Y/N into my arms.

Held her close.

Whispered into her hair, We did it.

Then I turned to the crowd and Yn raised the mic one last time, voice trembling slightly but steady with sincerity.

"ARMY... I don't even know how to begin. I... I thought I understood how much love existed here. But tonight—this moment—you've shown me a kind of love I didn't know hearts could hold."

She glances at me, then back at the crowd, eyes glassy but glowing.

"I know what he means to you. And I know that love didn't happen overnight. You grew with him, believed in him, protected him. You were his safe place, even when the world wasn't kind.So from the deepest part of my heart... thank you. For trusting me with someone you love so fiercely. For accepting me, even when you didn't have to. For making this feel not like a risk... but a homecoming."

She reaches for my hand again, holding it tight.

"I promise to love him with everything I am. To protect the light in him. To make him laugh on the hard days, and believe in himself on the harder ones. To give him peace when the world is loud. And to always, always fight for his joy.You gave him the courage to love out loud. And I promise — I will spend my life making sure that love was never misplaced."

She smiles, through her tears, overwhelmed by the crowd's energy.

"Thank you for this blessing. For this welcome. For this miracle of a night."

She pressed her forehead to mine, and we both just breathed.Still shaking. Still trembling.But real.And together.

We bowed.All of us.

Hand in hand.

As one.

And as the confetti rained down, I knew:

This wasn't just the end of the tour.

It was the beginning of everything else.