XXV

POV YN : 

The second the stage lights cut and the last roar of the crowd faded into the floorboards beneath my heels, I felt it — that afterglow.

Not relief. Not exhaustion. Something quieter.

Like being full without eating. Like standing still in the middle of a storm you survived together.

The boys poured off stage, breathless and smiling, their shirts damp, hair clinging to foreheads. Jimin wrapped both arms around Jungkook's neck, grinning like a kid, while Taehyung collapsed onto the nearest crate and groaned like a drama actor.

"Hyung," he said to Jin, "I lost one of my earrings. Tell my story."

"You had an earring?" Jin replied, sipping water. "Didn't notice. I was too busy being perfect."

"Hyung, please—"

Namjoon walked past me, shirt sticking slightly to his chest, still catching his breath, that usual furrow between his brows finally softened.

"You okay?" he asked under his breath, eyes flicking toward me.

I nodded. "Yeah. You guys were..."

Words escaped me.

He smiled. "Yeah."

Behind us, staff buzzed around, organizing gear, clearing the stage. I heard Yoongi muttering something about "too much fog machine next time and I'll disappear."

And then Jimmy Fallon appeared — still full of high energy and good vibes, despite being surrounded by crew and camera chaos. His eyes landed on me with a familiarity that made me straighten instinctively.

"Hey," he said, coming over with a boyish smile.  "You're really good. Like, really good. Do you know how many lose themselves in this business? They change, get lost. But you are so... pure and genuine. That's rare."

"Thanks," I murmured, caught off guard.

He turned to Namjoon, who stood beside me quietly, drinking water.

"You're lucky, man," Jimmy said. "She grounds you. All of you."

Namjoon didn't respond right away. Just kind of looked at me, unreadable, but something shifted in the air. Something quiet. Real.

And then J-Hope broke it.

"Yah! Don't fall in love with her, Jimmy, we already have dibs."

"Hyung!" Jungkook shouted from the hallway, "You're scaring the celebrities again!"

We were all packed into the van, heading back to the hotel, legs sprawled, sweat drying on our skin, the city lights flickering past like we were underwater.

I was wedged between Namjoon and the window. It was instinct by now. There was always this unspoken thing — not intentional,  just... comfortable. Familiar.

Hobi sat up front, reliving the performance with exaggerated sound effects. "Did you see me jump during 'Mic Drop'? I defied physics."

"You defied good taste," Yoongi mumbled.

Jimin snorted so hard he nearly dropped his phone.

Taehyung, for some reason, was trying to balance a cup of iced coffee on his forehead. Jungkook egged him on like it was the Olympics.

"Okay okay okay, three more seconds and you beat your Paris record!"

I laughed without realizing I was doing it.

It was warm. Easy.

I didn't mean to fall asleep. I never do. But the city, the movement, the soft murmur of their voices and Namjoon's arm resting lightly behind my back — it pulled me under.

When I blinked awake, everything was darker. Softer. The van still moving, the world outside a blur. I was leaning fully against Namjoon's shoulder now — his hoodie warm against my cheek, the subtle rise and fall of his breath soothing in a way that felt unfair.

His hand was resting loosely over my wrist, not holding, just there.

Jimin turned around from the front seat, caught my half-open eyes, and grinned like a kid who found a secret.

"She's down," he whispered.

"She always falls asleep on him," Jungkook added, whispering louder than necessary. There was something in Jungkook's voice — not like usual. Quieter. 

Namjoon didn't move, just lifted his other hand and gently brushed a stray hair from my cheek. His fingers were careful. Gentle. Familiar.

Yoongi looked over from the far end of the bench. "She doesn't do that with anyone else though."

There was a beat of silence.

"I mean... I'd let her," Taehyung whispered with mock jealousy.

"She'd suffocate on your jacket's embroidery," Jin said, yawning.

I shifted, barely, and Namjoon leaned down slightly. Close enough that only I could hear.

"Go back to sleep," he murmured. "I'll wake you when we're there."

And I did.

Later, in my hotel room — hair tied up, laptop balanced on my knees, Google Maps open — I finally let my brain spiral the way it wanted to.

We still had three sold-out nights in New York. But tomorrow was just content filming. No stage, no script.

Which meant time.

Time to do what I loved most — show them my world.

I was their guide. Their ARMY ambassador. I took it seriously — maybe too seriously. But it mattered.

I pulled out my notebook, like I had in every city so far, and started scribbling:

"NYC for the Seven"

Bagels. Real ones. No toasters. No compromises.

Walk the Brooklyn Bridge (Yoongi will protest the stairs — ignore him).

Rowboats in Central Park. Disaster potential = high. Must do.

Katz's Deli — prepare tissues for Jin's emotional breakdown over pastrami.

Washington Square Park — prevent Jungkook from challenging strangers to chess.

Top of the Rock at sunset. Avoid tourists.

Pizza at 2 a.m. Must be messy. Must burn tongue.

Somewhere between "DO NOT let Jimin buy another pigeon scarf" and checking when Magnolia Bakery opens, I smiled.

I wasn't just showing them a city.

I was giving them a memory.

Here's what I learned while planning and filming BTS Run: Our Universe:

You can plan the perfect New York day — color-coded maps, timed stops, breathing room for Jungkook's coffee quests and Jimin's pigeon flirting — but nothing prepares you for what actually happens when you unleash seven global superstars on Manhattan.

We started with bagels. A classic.

I led them to one of the best delis in Midtown, already thick with pre-work energy. "Rule one," I announced, holding up a finger, "no complaining until you've tasted it."

"Complaining?" Yoongi said, eyebrow arched. "I'm not complaining. I'm evaluating."

"You've been awake for seventeen minutes."

"I'm very efficient."

Jin stood in line like he was preparing for a duel. "Why are there fifty kinds of cream cheese? What happened to just... cheese?"

Taehyung leaned over. "I think they milked too many emotions into them."

"You're lucky you're beautiful," I muttered.

Jungkook was already beaming. "I want the salmon one. No — wait. The rainbow one. No, BOTH."

Namjoon was reading a plaque on the wall like it was scripture. "Did you know bagels were originally boiled before—"

"He's activated!" Jimin cried. "The Wikipedia has awakened!"

When we finally sat at a tiny table outside, silence fell like a blanket. Just chewing. Reverence.

Yoongi nodded. "Okay. Worth it."

Jin exhaled after his first bite like it was sacred. "I would marry this. I would leave all of you for this."

"Same," said Jungkook.

"I'd officiate the wedding," Jimin added, licking cream cheese off his thumb.

We walked the Brooklyn Bridge next. Or tried to.

Taehyung declared the lighting "cinematically urgent" and began slow-mo posing mid-bridge. Jungkook fake-filmed him, yelling "VOGUE!" with a New York accent.

"Is he pretending we're in a fashion shoot?" Namjoon asked, alarmed.

"Oh, 100%," I said. "You're already in frame."

"God help me."

Jimin and Hobi began interviewing tourists for a fake "Run BTS News" segment. Yoongi tried to blend in with a lamppost. Jin argued with a vendor about bridge-themed snow globes.

We filmed, we joked, we inhaled pretzels. I dropped historical facts between chaos bursts — like how Emily Roebling basically built the bridge when her husband got injured.

"Wait," said Taehyung. "A queen built this bridge?"

"Not officially. But basically."

"Say less. I'm naming my next dog after her."

By the time we hit Katz's Deli, the chaos was peaking.

"This place is 130 years old," I said as we filed in. "It's famous for pastrami and for When Harry Met Sally—"

"I'll have what she's having!" Jimin shouted, flinging himself onto a bench.

Even Yoongi cracked up — really laughed. Head back. Shoulders shaking.

My face warmed. Not from embarrassment — from how, somehow, this mess had turned to magic.

They were a hurricane of joy and noise and ridiculousness — and I was lucky enough to be the one holding the umbrella.

Later in Washington Square Park, I pointed out the arch and rattled off history. Namjoon listened like it was poetry.

"I love how public spaces carry history like residue," he murmured.

"Whoa," Jungkook whispered. "That was poetic."

"I'm infected," Namjoon said. "I've been around her too long."

I bumped his shoulder. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Yoongi photographed squirrels. Jin tried beatboxing with a musician. Taehyung did an interpretive dance. Jimin clapped like a proud parent.

When the sun dipped low, we stood at the Top of the Rock. Manhattan glittered below — golden, alive.

Even Taehyung was still.

"You know," Jungkook said softly, "we've been here a lot. But this feels different."

"It's because she made it a story," Yoongi said. Quiet. Almost to himself.

I blinked.

"She made the city a story," he repeated.

Not just a place.

I didn't know what to say.

Luckily, Jin tripped on his own shoelace and yelled, "YOU GUYS! I ALMOST DIED!"

We ended the day with greasy dollar pizza and mozzarella burns.

I had planned the perfect New York day.

But what we ended up with?

Was something even better.

POV Jungkook : 

New York always hits different.

We'd been here a hundred times — but that day? It felt like film grain and jazz and static under my skin. Maybe it was the sky. Maybe it was her.

I don't even know when it started. This... habit.

Looking for her.

Like how birds know where north is. I didn't think about it, didn't mean to. I just kept checking. Where she was. If she laughed. If Namjoon made her laugh. And he did. A lot.

That irritated me.

And not in a logical way. Not like I had any right to care.

They'd always been close. Natural. That was fine. That was normal. But lately? It was different. A little too easy. Like something had shifted and nobody told me.

I think we all noticed. Jimin definitely did — his eyebrows kept raising at me like they were sending telegrams.

But whatever. I wasn't thinking about it.

(Except I was.)

---

That whole New York day felt like a fever dream. In the best way.

I lost count of how many bagels I ate. Salmon, rainbow, cinnamon raisin — I became a one-man variety pack. YN kept teasing me, but I saw her smile every time I ordered another.

Taehyung tried to model on the Brooklyn Bridge like it was Paris Fashion Week. I filmed him yelling "VOGUE!" in my worst New Yorker accent, and Hobi nearly fell over laughing.

The deli pastrami made Jin emotional. Like actually emotional. He got misty-eyed and whispered, "It's better than my first love."

Washington Square Park was chaos. Jimin flirted with a magician. Taehyung pretended to be a statue for a full five minutes before a tourist tipped him.

But the moment that stuck with me? The Top of the Rock. Golden skyline. Her hair catching the wind. Namjoon beside her again, always.

And me behind them. Watching.

---

The concert nights in New York were wild. Madison Square Garden sold out three times. Streets packed. Phones flashing before we even stepped out the door.

Backstage before the last show, everyone was in their own headspace. Hobi bouncing. Yoongi pacing. Taehyung adjusting rings like they were armor.

I sat on a flight case, sipping water, feeling... wired. Off.

I kept glancing at her. She had that same focus in her eyes — the one she always got when it mattered. Calm, grounded. Made you feel like nothing could go wrong.

Namjoon walked past and bumped her shoulder. They shared a look. It said everything and nothing.

And that was the moment I realized the weird heaviness in my chest?

Was jealousy.

I didn't want to admit that. Still don't. Not now. Not yet.

---

Then came the Met Gala fittings.

I don't care much about fashion, but even I knew this was next-level.

Namjoon in Bottega — all brainy and beautiful. Jimin in Dior, floating like a prince from another realm. Jin, devastating in Tom Ford. Yoongi, dark and minimal in Saint Laurent. ThenTae, floating like a prince from another realm in Gucci. Hobi? That Louis Vuitton suit looked like it came with its own spotlight.

Me? Alexander McQueen. Black. Structured. They styled around my tattoos like they were telling a story in ink.

And YN? She picked Armani Privé.

Said none of us could see it before the big night. "I want it to be a surprise," she said with that little smile.

I already knew it would be breathtaking.

Even just thinking about it made something flutter in my chest — something annoying. Because it meant waiting. A whole damn month.

---

Then we flew north.

Canada.

First stop: Toronto.

Hotel was the Ritz. Fancy. Views like paintings.First night, we tried poutine. Jimin loved it, obviously. Jin said it tasted like "French fries that got emotionally complicated."I choked on my drink and nearly snorted a cheese curd.

The next day we hit St. Lawrence Market. Yoongi discovered the mustard section and acted like he found buried treasure. He bought six jars. Six.I got video proof. Planning to leak it if he ever tries to boss me around again.

At rehearsal, we were all kind of beat. Jetlag and nerves, maybe. But then YN came out, hoodie too big, clipboard in hand, that focused squint she gets when she's trying to pretend she's not just watching me.

She grinned when she handed me the mic."Think you're ready for Celine, golden boy?""No," I said. "But I'll make her proud anyway."

That night, just before the encore, YN walked out under the lights. Army screamed like she was one of us. I guess... she was now.

She raised the mic."This one's for Canada," she said. "From our hearts to yours."

Then came "My Heart Will Go On."Jin started it. Soft and steady. Jimin took the high parts like they were made for him. I came in halfway.The place melted.Phones lit up like fireflies. Some fans sobbed. Not dramatic sobs—real ones. Nostalgia kind of cries. It hit me while I was singing. This wasn't just a song. This was home for a lot of them. This was their childhood, their heartbreak, their mom singing while cleaning the kitchen. We were guests in their memories.

After that...Total gear switch.

"Call Me Maybe."

I don't know who suggested it. Maybe Taehyung. Maybe caffeine and poor judgment.Either way, it was pure chaos.

Tae and Hobi WENT OFF. Sunglasses. Hip thrusts. Fake flirting with each other and with Jimin, who dramatically stormed offstage only to pop back in with a hair flip.

Yoongi stood in the back just shaking his head. RM joined in halfway through and forgot the lyrics—but made up new ones and somehow made it work.

Army?LOST. THEIR. MINDS.

Second stop: Vancouver.

BC Place was massive. You feel it in your chest before you even step in.Hotel was the Fairmont Pacific Rim. Balcony views like dreams.

I filmed a reel from my room — skyline, harbor, mountain haze. Didn't even need editing. It just was.

Taehyung stared at a squirrel for ten minutes and whispered, "Why are Canadian squirrels so polite?"No one answered.No one needed to.

During soundcheck, I caught her in the wings again. YN.Sitting cross-legged on a flight case, hoodie pulled over her head, mouthing lyrics as we rehearsed Summer of '69.She smiled when we got them right. Bit her lip when we didn't.She was our unofficial seventh member now. The only one who could stare Yoongi down when he tried to skip rehearsal. The only one who could tease Jin and not get roasted back.

The concert?Wild.

We hit Call Me Maybe again because... how could we not?Tae had a Canadian flag cape.Hobi tossed plush moose into the crowd.I caught one, kissed it, and handed it to a girl in the front row. She fainted. Not even joking. Namjoon panicked. Jin fanned her with a setlist.

Then came Summer of '69.Hyung line line KILLED it. RM nailed the rock-star stance. Yoongi played air guitar.We all lost it when Hobi did a mic drop and it actually hit his foot.

Fans were WILD.Like waves crashing.Our energy matched theirs.Every note, every shout, every laugh was real.

Backstage, we collapsed in a pile. Sweat-drenched, glowing. Laughing like idiots.

I looked up—and there she was.YN.Still in that hoodie. Still watching.

She smiled like it was just us in the room.Just me.

And I thought—Damn.I'd tour Canada again in a heartbeat.

Just to see that smile.

The city blinked beneath us like it couldn't sleep either.

We were spread out on the rooftop, still dressed from the afterparty of our last concert in North America — too wired to call it a night, too worn to keep the high going. Champagne half-finished. Jackets thrown over chairs. Laughter lingering, but softer now.

It was the kind of quiet that only comes after something big ends — the stage lights gone, the adrenaline tapering off, and suddenly you're left with your own thoughts echoing louder than the cheers ever did.

I leaned back against the railing, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey. Someone had queued up an old playlist — lo-fi mixed with Sinatra, one of Tae's weird combos — and it just... played. We weren't really talking. Just existing. The kind of silence where everything felt too close and too far all at once.

Then Hobi scrolled through his phone and muttered, "Oh no," in that way that meant he wanted attention but also didn't.

"What?" Jimin leaned in over his shoulder, nosy as ever.

Hobi turned his screen around with a deadpan expression.

**A PEOPLE MAGAZINE VOTE: "Which BTS Couple Would Reign Supreme?  YN and ..."**

Complete with flashy banners and checkboxes.

We groaned — but it was the kind of groan that meant we were already reading it.

* 🟩 **Namjoon**: *The Alpha Couple*

* 🟩 **Jin**: *World Wide Handsome & Beauty*

* 🟩 **Hobi**: *J-Hope & His Joy*

* 🟩 **Yoongi**: *The Felines*

* 🟩 **Jungkook**: *The Hottest Couple*

* 🟩 **Jimin**: *Cuteness Overdose*

* 🟩 **Taehyung**: *Perfection Couple*

"It's like we're Barbie dolls," Yoongi muttered, sipping slowly. "With shipping labels."

"They didn't even try with yours, hyung," Jimin giggled. "The Felines?"

"Don't test me."

Everyone chuckled. I laughed too — but mine faded faster.

My eyes drifted sideways, landing on her.

She was sitting cross-legged beside Namjoon, nursing her drink, face lit by the soft glow of the city, the headline reflecting in her eyes for half a second. Her smile was polite. Controlled. Beautiful.

My tongue was heavy. But the whiskey burned warmer than my hesitation.

So I said it. Loud enough to cut the silence.

"So... who would you vote for, YN?"

She blinked. Caught off guard.

"What?" she asked, trying to play light.

I smiled, teeth showing. "You heard me. Who would you choose? Come on."

She laughed. Too hard, too quickly. "Jungkook, you're drunk."

I was. But not that drunk.

"Still wanna know," I shrugged, sipping again. "Just curious."

The air shifted. Just a little.

From across the circle, Hobi looked up — the kind of glance that wasn't casual. It was searching. Quiet panic buried under practiced ease. He set his glass down too softly. His voice was soft, but not light.

 "Guys... let's stop it. It's enough."

But I didn't back down. I couldn't.

Not with the way she hesitated. Not with the way her fingers tightened around her glass.

I met her eyes again and said, "Seriously. Pick one."

She opened her mouth — but it wasn't her voice that came next.

Namjoon.

 "Why, Jungkook?"

His tone was still calm. Measured. But there was something under it. Something careful. Something waiting.

 "Why do you want to know so badly? Who would you choose?"

The silence was deafening. Even the music felt like it dimmed.

My chest tightened — but I didn't answer.

I just looked back at her.

She was frozen for a beat too long. Then — that signature smile.

Fake. Charming. Terrifying.

 "I'd pick Jin," she said, laughing. "I mean... to stand next to World Wide Handsome and be called World Wide Beauty? That'd be the biggest achievement of my life."

The group erupted. Loud, overcompensated laughter.

Hobi clapped his hands too fast. Jimin fell back into Yoongi's shoulder. Even Namjoon smiled.

But not everyone was laughing for the same reason.

Because I knew what I'd done.

And so did they.

I'd exposed it.

I'd laid it bare in front of them — and maybe I hadn't said the words, but they hung between us now. Suspended. Sharp.

That I wanted to be chosen by her. I liked her. Wanted her. Thought about her more than I should. 

And she'd just chosen Jin.

Not because it was true, but because it was safe.

Because saying any other name would've meant pulling a pin from a grenade.

Especially Namjoon's.

We all knew it. Everyone did. That he'd loved her first. That from the beginning, his gaze followed her like gravity. He was the leader, the thinker, the one who always waited. But even patience has weight.

No one knew what had happened between them. Not officially. No one had seen anything. But now? Now they were wondering.

I watched Namjoon's knuckles tighten just slightly around his glass.

Watched Hobi cast him a glance like a warning.

And I saw Jimin, eyes bouncing between us, lips parting like he was about to say something — but didn't.

It didn't matter that they laughed.

They weren't dumb.

Everyone knew something had changed.

And suddenly, the rooftop didn't feel so warm anymore.