|HOLD OR LET GO|

The airport lights had been a blur, the customs line an eternal hell, and now Y/n was dragging herself into the hotel lobby like a walking zombie in heels.

Behind her, Yoongi was muttering curses at the wheel of his suitcase.

“Remind me again why I chose this career?” he deadpanned.

“Because you wanted free snacks,” Y/n replied, yawning.

“No, I think it was the uniform. I look great in navy.”

“You sleep in the uniform. You practically lived in the crew bunk for twelve hours.”

“Exactly,” Yoongi said, pressing the elevator button with all the passion of a sloth. “Twelve hours of screaming toddlers, coffee spills, and one guy who sneezed on my tray. On purpose. I deserve snacks. And a therapist.”

They stepped into the elevator, leaning against opposite walls.

“Same floor,” Y/n mumbled, checking her phone.

“Rooms across again?” Yoongi asked.

“Fate,” she replied.

“Or our manager who has zero imagination.”

They reached their floor and split to their doors, waving lazily.

“Don’t die in the shower,” Yoongi called out.

“Don’t die snoring,” Y/n shot back.

...............................................

The hot water worked miracles. Steam curled around her limbs like a hug, washing away the exhaustion of the long haul flight.

Fresh-faced and in a loose shirt and shorts, Y/n padded toward the bed and grabbed her phone.

One look at the time made her pout.

“He should be up by now…”

She tapped on Namjoon’s contact and started a video call.

The screen rang and rang… until it finally connected.

But what greeted her?

Namjoon. Dead asleep. Face half-buried in his pillow. Hair messy. Snoring softly.

Her heart melted.

“Aww, baby…” she whispered.

She stared at him for a while—tired, yes, but missing him in every cell of her being. She sighed and ended the call gently, not wanting to wake him.

“Guess I’ll eat my feelings instead,” she muttered.

Knock Knock

She blinked. Who the hell? Room service?

Opening the door slightly, she peeked—and then blinked again.

Yoongi, in pajamas, holding a bag of food like some kind of anti-social delivery man.

“The king of late-night hunger has arrived.”

Y/n laughed, opening the door wider. “You brought food?”

“Of course. I value my life. Remember what Namjoon said last time?”

He mimicked Namjoon’s deep voice:

“‘If she doesn’t eat, you’re dead. If she faints, you’re double dead. Feed my wife.’”

Y/n nearly choked laughing. “He did not say that.”

“Word for word. He even looked like he might bite me.”

They settled on the small couch, unpacking dumplings, fries, and two sad cans of soda.

“What’s this?” Y/n poked a mystery container.

“Mystery meat. Probably regret.”

......................................................

Y/n and Yoongi sat on the bed, eating dumplings and ramen straight from the boxes.

“Five years married,” Yoongi said, mouth full. “Still no baby?”

Y/n choked on her drink. “What is wrong with you tonight?”

“I’m tired. And curious. I mean… Namjoon’s clearly obsessed with you.”

“We’re not ready yet, okay?”

“Hmm. You two are sickeningly in love. It's like watching a K-drama... but real.”

They laughed together as Yoongi playfully mimicked Namjoon's deep voice and dramatic gestures, making Y/n giggle until her stomach hurt.

Eventually, as the clock ticked past 2 a.m., Yoongi’s head started to tilt sideways.

“Yoongi? Don’t you fall asleep here.”

“Just five minutes.”

Plop.

He collapsed sideways across her bed and began snoring softly.

Y/n groaned. “Seriously?”

She nudged him twice, but he didn’t move.

“Fine. You’re dead weight. But don’t hog the covers.”

She switched off the lights and settled on the opposite side of the bed.

....................................................

Y/n blinked awake slowly, only to feel something heavy and warm wrapped around her waist.

Her entire body stiffened.

Yoongi’s arm.

His face was nestled in her neck, hair brushing her skin.

And her leg was hooked with his.

Panic hit her like a train.

“Yoongi?” she whispered sharply.

He didn’t respond.

“YOONGI.”

He jolted awake, blinking rapidly, his grip still around her waist.

“Wh—what the hell—?”

They both scrambled apart.

Y/n sat up fast, heart pounding.

Yoongi looked equally stunned.

“Did we—did I—?”

“You were using me as a pillow!”

“I thought I was hugging my blanket, Y/n! I swear—!”

The tension snapped taut between them.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, still flushed. “Damn. This… this is bad.”

Y/n looked away. “Yeah. It is.”

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

“Sorry,” Yoongi finally mumbled. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine,” she said, though her voice was tight. “Just… don’t let it happen again.”

Yoongi gave her a quick, serious nod.

Then, to break the awkwardness, he flopped back dramatically. “Okay. Wake me up in a decade.”

“Go to your room.”

“No.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And sleepy.”

.........................................................

Her phone rang. Y/n grabbed it quickly, half-hoping it would distract her from the awkwardness still lingering in the room.

Namjoon’s face lit up the screen, bright and gentle.

“There’s my beautiful wife.”

“You finally woke up.”

“You called late. I passed out waiting.”

They both smiled, a calming familiarity settling between them.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I miss you more. I hate being in our bed without you.”

Just then, Namjoon’s eyes shifted—he noticed something behind her.

“Is… someone in your bed?”

Y/n froze. Then slowly turned the phone.

Yoongi was sprawled across her bed, one arm over his eyes.

“Oh. That’s Yoongi,” she said quickly. “He brought food, passed out. I couldn’t wake him.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed slightly but he gave a short nod.

“I see.”

She knew that look. He was trying not to overthink it.

“Hey,” she said softly, “you know I’d never cross the line. It’s Yoongi. You trust him, right?”

“I do,” Namjoon said quietly. “But I trust you more.”

Her heart softened.

“We had a weird morning. But it’s nothing. I promise.”

Namjoon smiled again, still a little strained.

“Okay. Just… make sure he stays on his side next time.”

“Yes, Mr. Kim.”

“I love you.”

“Love you more.”

They ended the call, but Y/n sat there for a moment, staring at the screen. She looked over at Yoongi, who was now dead asleep again.

“You’re lucky Namjoon doesn’t kill people.”

...........................................................

Namjoon sat in the plush leather seat of the private jet, fingers tapping impatiently on his thigh. A tray loaded with pastries—macarons, brownies, cream puffs, and chocolate truffles—rested untouched for a moment… until he suddenly reached for his fifth éclair.

“That éclair didn’t do anything to deserve this,” Hoseok muttered from the opposite seat, arms crossed, one brow lifted.

Namjoon gave him a death stare while chewing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it. But I always know what ‘it’ is.”

Namjoon grabbed a brownie. “Then why are you talking?”

“Because you’re stress-eating like a man who just found out his wife accidentally spooned another man in her sleep.”

Namjoon paused mid-bite.

“Damn it, Hoseok.”

“What? I’m just stating facts. Didn’t Yoongi fall asleep in her room?”

Namjoon groaned, leaning back. “It should’ve been me beside her. I haven’t held her in two days.”

“Two days,” Hoseok mocked. “Poor baby. Do you want a gold star or another éclair?”

Namjoon threw a pillow at him.

...................................................

Just then, a glamorous flight attendant walked over with an exaggerated sway in her hips, offering tea and an unmistakable flirtatious smile.

“Mr. Kim, would you care for anything else? We have a fresh batch of chocolate soufflé…”

Namjoon looked up with a blank expression. Then slowly, he raised his left hand to scratch his head, flashing the wedding ring in all its platinum glory.

“No, thank you. My wife already warned me not to turn into a walking cupcake while she’s away.”

The attendant blinked.

“Oh. Well… she must be lucky.”

Namjoon smiled, voice cool. “I’m the lucky one.”

As soon as she walked off, Hoseok snorted. “Did you just flash your wedding ring like it’s an anti-flirting shield?”

“It is,” Namjoon replied flatly. “Works better than pepper spray.”

..................................................

With turbulence rumbling lightly beneath them, Hoseok smirked and crossed his arms.

“So tell me. When did you start thinking you knew her best?”

Namjoon glanced over warily. “What are you starting now?”

“I mean, I was engaged to her first. I knew she hated horror movies.”

“Please. She loves horror movies. She just pretended to hate them when she was with you because you’d whimper like a scared puppy.”

“She prefers chocolate croissants.”

“Wrong. It’s matcha mochi now. Try updating your facts, Mr. Ex-Fiancé.”

The tension sizzled between them—until they both broke into laughter.

“God, we sound like jealous teenagers arguing over prom queen,” Hoseok laughed, shaking his head.

“She’s worth every argument,” Namjoon murmured, smile fading to something softer. “I hate that I’m flying away when she just landed.”

Hoseok looked at him for a second, eyes gentler now.

“You’re really in deep, huh?”

Namjoon stared out the window, the clouds looking too far from the ground—and too far from Y/n.

“It’s not just deep,” he whispered. “She’s home. Wherever she is… that’s where I want to be.”

.......................................................

Namjoon entered the sleek glass-paneled penthouse, the soft hum of the city below barely touching the silence inside. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the weight of the day—and the distance from her—settled over him like a storm cloud.

He dropped his blazer onto the back of the couch and walked straight to the massive window that framed the glittering skyline. City of dreams? Not tonight. Not without her.

He loosened his tie, pulled out his phone, and tapped her name.

"Come on, pick up," he murmured, almost to himself.

When her face appeared, sleep-tousled hair framing her glowing smile, Namjoon's heart clenched painfully.

"Missed me already, Mr. CEO?" Y/n teased, resting her chin on her hand.

Namjoon exhaled, sinking into the couch with a lazy smile. “I missed you before you even left.”

“Smooth. But I’m not forgiving you for dodging my last video call.”

“I fell asleep waiting for you.” His voice dropped. “Don’t punish me, baby. I'm already suffering enough without you here.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging her lips. “So dramatic.”

“Only for you.” His tone turned cheeky. “Though I may have a small problem... I’ve been invited to a party in Manhattan.”

The smile vanished from Y/n’s face. “What kind of party?”

“Business. Investors. Champagne. Boring people.”

“And models?” she added, eyes narrowing.

Namjoon raised his hands. “I’m married, remember? Very obviously married.”

He flashed his ring to the camera dramatically. “Look. Blinding commitment.”

“Good,” Y/n said coolly. “Because if someone dares flirt with you, I’ll take the next flight and drag her across Manhattan in heels.”

Namjoon laughed so hard he dropped the phone for a second. “God, I love you.”

Y/n’s pout remained. “Don’t test me, Joon.”

“You know I wouldn’t let anyone come close. The only woman I let ruin my peace is you.”

She gasped in mock offense. “Ruin your peace? Then what about your sugar obsession?”

Namjoon stiffened. “What obsession?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Did you eat sweets today?”

“...Define ‘sweets’.”

“Namjoon.”

He tried to look innocent but failed miserably.

“…Okay. A few macarons. Maybe some tiramisu. And a slice of that caramel cheesecake from the place you hate.”

Y/n sighed, dramatic and motherly. “You know your stomach is sensitive.”

“But they were looking at me with those sweet, sugary eyes—how could I say no?”

“You have no self-control.”

Namjoon grinned. “Sweet was my first love, you’re my second.”

“Oh? Then your second love is officially sleeping on the couch when you return.”

“Wait! Baby—!”

She narrowed her eyes. “You want me to believe you love me more than cake?”

Namjoon dramatically pressed a hand to his heart. “Fine! I swear on every last éclair, no more sweets until you're back.”

“Good.” Y/n smirked, then leaned in slightly. “Because I plan to feed you myself.”

That shift in tone made Namjoon sit straighter, heat rising in his chest.

“…Feed me how exactly?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His jaw clenched, voice dropping. “Don’t test me when I’m an ocean away.”

“Distance makes the heart grow hungrier.”

“Stop—” He groaned. “Now I’m craving two things and none of them are edible.”

Y/n laughed but her smile softened. “Five years of marriage and you're still this obsessed with me?”

Namjoon nodded, his voice quiet now. “Every year, I fall harder. From the bakery in Paris… to the hospital… to the night we got lost in Kyoto. I don’t think I ever stopped falling.”

“You were a mess when we met,” she whispered.

“And you loved me anyway.”

They held each other’s gaze, even through the screen. So many years. So many miles tonight. And still, it felt like they were only a breath apart.

“I love you, Joon.”

Namjoon leaned toward the camera. “I love you more. Now go to sleep, baby. And tell Yoongi to stay far, far away from your room.”

Y/n laughed, waving him off. “Goodnight, Mr. Jealous.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Kim.”

As the screen dimmed, Namjoon leaned back on the couch and whispered to the empty room:

“Come back to me soon. I’m not me without you.”

..................................................

Y/n stepped into the mansion, her heels clicking against the pristine marble, echoing louder than usual.

It felt cold.

No scattered books on the coffee table. No jackets slung over the couch. No Namjoon humming from the kitchen while making late-night tea.

The air was still, heavy with absence.

She exhaled, slowly removing her coat. Her eyes wandered to the grand staircase, the space where Namjoon usually waited for her with that gentle smile, hands in his pockets like he couldn’t wait to pull her in.

But he wasn’t here.

A knock at her door pulled her from her haze. It was Namjoon’s grandfather.

“I’ll be heading to Japan for a few weeks,” he said. “There’s a seminar, and your presence would be warmly welcomed. You shouldn’t be alone in this big house.”

Y/n offered a soft smile. “Thank you, harabeoji... but I’ll stay. There’s something I want to prepare for Joon.”

He nodded slowly. “He’s lucky, that grandson of mine.”

But as he left and the door shut behind him, silence fell again.

Even Woomin was too busy to visit her these days. And Namjoon wouldn’t be back for another five days.

She stared at the calendar. Too long.

[At Yoongi’s Apartment]

Y/n: “I have a plan, and I need your help.”

Yoongi groaned through the phone, sounding half-asleep. “Unless the plan is to build a pillow fort in my living room and sleep for twelve hours, I’m out.”

“Yoongi,” she said, threateningly sweet. “Don’t make me come over.”

“…you wouldn’t dare.”

Cut to: Y/n knocking on his apartment door, holding bags of groceries and a smug grin.

Yoongi opened the door in sweats, hair sticking in all directions. “You really are the most annoying person I know.”

“And you’re secretly soft, so let’s get cooking.”

The Day Unfolds

The day was surprisingly light-hearted. Yoongi complained, but still helped her brainstorm surprise ideas for Namjoon. Y/n cooked, Yoongi taste-tested like a snobby food critic. He ended up washing dishes after she pouted and threatened to post an old embarrassing photo of him.

While Yoongi grumbled at the sink, her phone rang — Namjoon.

She answered immediately, her face lighting up.

“Missed me already?” she teased.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at the screen. “You’re at Yoongi’s?”

“He’s helping me plan something. Be nice.”

Namjoon scoffed, mock-jealous. “Right. You never made me kimchi pancakes that crispy.”

Yoongi shouted from the kitchen, “That’s because you can’t handle spice, weakling!”

Y/n giggled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make them again. Just for you. When you’re back.”

They talked for a few more minutes — sweet words, soft laughter, secret smiles — while Yoongi dried the last plate behind them, quietly eyeing the connection they still shared.

[ Later That Night ]

“You know,” Yoongi said, cracking open a bottle of soju, “It’s been ages since we drank together.”

Y/n raised a brow. “We both swore off wine after The Cactus Incident.”

“I have better wine now,” he smirked, waving a bottle. “But considering your weak liver, maybe we stick to this.”

“One bottle,” she warned.

It turned into two. Then three. Laughter poured easily between them as old memories surfaced. Stories from college. From her pre-Namjoon life. From before everything got complicated.

Then came the silence.

A soft, lingering one.

Her eyes fluttered to him. His gaze held hers a second too long.

She leaned closer.

“Namjoon…” she whispered, drunk eyes glossed with emotion.

Yoongi blinked slowly, confused. “Y/n...?”

And then it happened — a kiss.

Slow. Sloppy. Not out of passion, but out of pain and intoxication.

They both froze.

Then pulled apart.

“No…” Y/n whispered, pressing a trembling hand to her lips.

Yoongi swallowed hard, finally alert. “That... shouldn’t have happened.”

The room went heavy. The alcohol haze twisted with guilt.

She stood up abruptly, nearly tripping. “I… I need to lie down.”

Yoongi helped her, silent as he guided her to the guest room, not his bedroom. He draped a blanket over her.

He sat outside her door for a long while, rubbing his hands over his face.

...................................................

Y/n jolted awake.

Her head pounded.

She looked around, piecing together memories. The cooking. The laughter. The soju. The kiss.

“No...” she whispered to herself, sitting up.

Yoongi knocked gently before poking his head in. “You're awake.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I kissed you. I thought you were—”

“Namjoon. I know,” he said quietly.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was a mistake. We were drunk. And we didn’t go further,” he added. “I wouldn’t let us.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “Yoongi…”

“I’ll talk to him,” Yoongi said. “You don’t need to carry this alone.”

“But I started it.”

“And I didn’t stop it. So it’s on both of us.”

They sat in silence, the weight of their choices heavy between them.

☆TO BE CONTINUED☆°•○●○•°•○●○•°☆°•○●○•°•○●○•°