XXIII

POV YN : 

I had no idea that love could feel like this.

Not the kind you daydream about as a girl. Not the kind that plays in dramas and ends with a kiss under fake snow.

This was different.

Real.

It was his heartbeat against my cheek. The way his arms wrapped around me like he had waited his whole life to hold me. The sound of his breath, steadying as mine did.

It was the warmth in his chest that I felt down to my fingertips.

And the way I smiled like an idiot into his shirt, because for once, I didn't have to wonder. He loved me. Namjoon loved me.

The words had been said, but now they were sinking in. Slow. Deep. Permanent.

I felt like a kid. Giddy. Breathless. My stomach was a literal zoo—elephants, tigers, entire parades crashing around inside me every time I felt him shift or squeeze me tighter.

God, I was so in love with him.

And he... he was looking at me like I was the moon.

But love—real love—also brings its shadow. And when the high began to settle, we both felt it.

The world was still there. Waiting. Watching. Demanding.

We spent the next few hours on the balcony, legs tangled beneath the blanket, hearts cracked wide open under the dim city sky. The air between us had shifted — warmer, lighter — and for the first time in what felt like forever, nothing needed to be hidden.

We talked. Really talked. Slowly, carefully, like we were unfolding the truth with both hands. No more pretending. No more restraint. Just everything, laid bare.

It started with him brushing a strand of hair from my cheek, fingers barely grazing my skin.

"When did you know?" I whispered.

He was quiet for a long moment. Then, his thumb paused at my jawline, and he looked away, almost shy.

"The first day I met you," he said softly. "When you sang La Vie en Rose at that audition... and then backstage smiled like you had no idea who I was. You just treated me like Namjoon. Not RM. Just... a potential student. And it undid me."

My heart caught in my throat. He remembered the exact outfit I wore the day we met. I remembered the way he smiled at me like he'd known me forever.

"But the moment it really first hit me was the day we took the scooter ride to the sea." He laughed quietly, eyes on the memory. "Three hours holding you. Your hair kept flying in my face and I didn't care. I prayed the cliché would happen — that the motel would only have one room left. That we'd be forced to share it." He smiled, a little sheepishly. "I was so disappointed when it didn't happen."

I laughed softly, the warmth of it catching in my chest.

"But I didn't let myself feel everything until Donghwan's wedding. When they said their vows..." He trailed off. His gaze met mine again, deeper now, and full of something raw. "All I could see was you. In a white dress. Walking toward me. And the thought that you might walk toward someone else instead—"

He stopped, eyes glistening. "It wrecked me. That's when I knew. I loved you. I love you. With all I have. And I can't... I can't picture a life without you."

Tears slipped down my cheeks before I realized it. My chest burned — with joy, with grief, with so much love it felt impossible to contain.

I let my hand cup his cheek. "Namjoon..."

He leaned into my touch, eyes closing, lips trembling slightly.

"I didn't know right away," I admitted. "You were... unexpected. But I loved discovering you. The real you. How much you insisted on showing me you were Namjoon — not what the world thought of you. I think I fell a little more every time you opened up."

I smiled through the tears. "You remember those slow mornings in the studio? The way you'd already be there before me, even when I came early? Also I noticed that every time I walked into any  room  — without fail — the first thing I did was to look for you."

He chuckled, brushing his thumb across the back of my hand.

"Even Donghwan noticed. He teased me once — said I was already gone for you. I told him he was being ridiculous." I looked down. "But he wasn't."

He waited, gently squeezing my fingers. 

"I realized it was love after the flight to America," I whispered. "You were cold. Distant. I thought I did something wrong. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. It hurt more than anything. And it hit me—" My voice cracked. "I was already too far gone. Because I couldn't imagine a life where you weren't mine."

His arms wrapped around me before I could finish. He took my wrist gently, tugging me closer until I was pressed against his chest, my head resting right over his heart. I could hear it, slamming against his ribs.

"I almost kissed you that day," he murmured, voice low, eyes on the night sky.

My heart thudded against my ribs. "I know. I almost let you."

We both laughed softly, heads tilting toward each other in the dark. There was a strange beauty in revisiting all the near-misses now that the truth was out.

And then came the ache.We talked about the fear. The sleepless nights.

The guilt of feeling something so deep, so good — and not knowing if we had the right to want it. The way I avoided his gaze during press conferences because I was scared one look would give it all away. The way he memorized every expression I wore, wondering if today would be the day I stopped feeling the same.

There were tears at some point. Not loud, not dramatic. Just quiet, shared tears. From the weight of it all. From the sheer relief of not being alone in it anymore.

And under the blanket, our fingers stayed linked the whole time. Anchors in a storm we hadn't even realized we were weathering together.

The more we talked, the more it felt like we were digging our hearts out and placing them in each other's hands. Trusting. Hoping. Finally breathing.

Eventually, the conversation led us to the part we were both dreading.

We had stretched the night as far as we could. Poured every truth onto the table like precious porcelain. But the inevitable loomed — pressing against our joy like a shadow creeping in from the edge of the balcony.

I tucked my knees under my chin, our fingers still intertwined, and asked the question that hovered like a ghost between us.

"What do we do now?"

Namjoon didn't answer right away. He stared at our hands, his thumb slowly brushing over mine in circles. The warmth of his skin anchored me, but it couldn't shield me from the ache spreading through my chest.

"I want to be with you," he said, voice low, careful. "More than anything."

My heart fluttered—then sank.

"But if we dated now," he continued, "we'd lose everything."

His voice didn't tremble, but I could hear the pain laced between each word. Not regret. Not hesitation. Just brutal, honest awareness. The truth was written in the silence between us: the world wasn't kind to stories like ours.

His fame. The scrutiny. The headlines. The betrayal of trust our circles would accuse us of. The fans, the media, the label. most importantly, the boys . It would unravel like a fragile thread pulled too tight.

It would take something beautiful and crush it into scandal.

A secret turned into ammunition.

I looked at him — really looked — and saw the weight he carried behind those eyes. The dreams he had fought to protect. The responsibility. The legacy. And I loved him even more for it.

I nodded. Just once.

"So we wait?" I asked.

Namjoon finally looked up, his eyes glassy in the city light.

"We wait," he whispered.

Neither of us said how long. Neither of us dared ask.

A year? Two? Would the right moment ever come?

We didn't know. But we had this — us. And for now, that was enough.

We sat back against the railing, arms brushing, breaths mingling.

"So... rules?" I asked with a soft smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Namjoon gave a weak laugh, nodding.

"No dating," he said, tilting his head toward me.

"No kissing," I added, cheeks already warm.

"No jealousy," he sighed. "Even if it kills me when someone looks at you too long."

"There's no one else," I said instantly. "I don't even see other men anymore. They're just... background noise."

His mouth curled into a half-smile. "And you're it for me. You always have been."

That made my heart thud so hard I could feel it in my ears.

We both went quiet for a moment, the weight of those words still settling between us like falling stars.

"And if it gets hard?" I murmured. "If we're in a room full of people and I just... need to feel close to you?"

"We make a code," he said. "Something only we know."

My eyes lit up. "A secret signal."

Namjoon grinned softly. "Okay. Something discreet."

Tree taps on the rose necklace he gave me, for me.Three quick, light taps on the back of the hand, for him.

I love you. I need a hug.It looked natural. Inconspicuous.

"If one of us does that," I said, "it means we need a hug. Just one moment. Somewhere quiet."

"And if we can't sneak away?"

"Then the other just... looks at us. Really looks. Like we're saying it out loud."

Namjoon leaned in, touching his forehead to mine.

"I'll always come to you," he whispered.

Tears burned behind my eyes again.

Somehow, that promise—that small signal—made everything feel a little more possible.

The timing was wrong.But the love? The love was the truest thing either of us had ever known.

Because even if the world wasn't ready for us... we were real. And we had each other.

We kept talking. Wrapped in a blanket. Heads resting on shoulders. Every once in a while, one of us would smile for no reason.

Eventually, the silence took us.

And in that silence...

We fell asleep.

 POV Namjoon : 

It was sometime past 4 a.m. when I woke up.

The wind had chilled, brushing over the balcony like a soft warning. I blinked, disoriented at first—until I felt her.

Her body curled into mine. Our legs tangled under the blanket. Her hand still resting on my chest.

She was asleep. Deeply, peacefully asleep.

And when I moved, just slightly, she shifted like it was instinct. Nestled deeper into my chest, her cheek finding the same spot over my heart like she belonged there.

Because she did.

I held her tighter, careful not to wake her. Then, slowly, quietly, I stood—with her in my arms—and carried her to my bed.

She didn't even stir.

She simply curled into me again. Her body knew the shape of mine. As if it had always known.

I laid there—awake—watching her. One arm under her, one over her waist, her breath soft against my skin.

And I couldn't stop smiling.

She loved me.

I had imagined it. Dreamed of it. Tormented myself with what-ifs for months. But nothing came close to the reality of it. Her voice saying those words. Her eyes looking into mine without fear. Her soul reaching out to mine like it had been waiting, aching, for this moment.

She was mine.

And yet... she wasn't. Not completely. Not publicly. Not yet.

That part scared me.

We had something beautiful. Something that felt ancient and inevitable. But the world didn't care. It would twist it, expose it, try to ruin it.

Could we really protect it?

Could we live in the in-between? Not together, not apart?

I didn't know.

But I did know this:

If I had to wait a year, five years, a lifetime—I would.

Because she wasn't just someone I loved.

She was it.

The only one.

And for tonight... this was enough.

The quiet hum of her breath. Her body in my arms. The echo of her words in my mind.

I love you, Namjoon.

My chest rose with hers.I wanted to wake her. Just to hear her say it again. But I couldn't steal peace from someone who gave me mine.

I love you too, I whispered.

She didn't stir.

But I swear— She smiled in her sleep.