XL

POV YN: 

We landed in London with tired eyes and hearts still echoing from five months across the Americas. A different kind of fatigue — the beautiful kind, the kind that comes from pouring your soul out night after night. But Europe... Europe was breath. I felt it the moment my boots touched the ground — a current rushing back into my bones. This continent had raised me. Held me. Broken and rebuilt me. And now, I was back — not alone, but with them. With Him.

London The two nights at the O2 were a storm. Lights, screams, sobs, and euphoria so loud I could feel it in my teeth. British ARMYs were relentless — gloriously so. For the encore, they performed "Someone Like You." Yoongi on piano, the others crooning, Jimin crying before the second verse even started. I don't think I breathed until the last note. Then — because chaos is in their blood — they threw themselves into a ridiculous "Wannabe" cover. Taehyung knew every move. Namjoon butchered the British accent and nearly broke the mic. The crowd ate it up.

Between rehearsals we had our Run: Our Universe filming, I dragged them through my old streets. My London. I showed them the little Korean place in Soho where I'd cried over Galbi Tang , my old uni campus, the bookstore that once held me together when I was unraveling. In Camden, they gagged over jellied eels (fair), and in Notting Hill, I forced them into a pastel house group photo. The way the fans screamed when they spotted me near the stage — I still blush thinking about it. "Our president and first lady," one sign read. I caught Namjoon smiling so wide, I knew he'd never forget that moment.

Copenhagen Copenhagen was clean air and golden silence. A soft landing between emotional tsunamis. They played Royal Arena, intimate and glowing. During the encore, they attempted "Smukke Mennesker" — the Danish was horrendous and perfect, and the fans roared with love. "Dope" followed, with Hobi going full cop cosplay. I was wheezing.

I brought a printed list. I always do. I took them biking along the canals, made them try Smørrebrød (Jin ascended), dragged them to Nyhavn where a water gun battle turned into full filming chaos. I warned them: "Danish people don't small talk. No flirting." I said that staring right at Joon. He broke the rule two hours later. Of course.

Berlin Berlin was raw. Charged. Loud. Max-Schmeling-Halle shook like it had a pulse. German ARMYs were powerhouses. They covered "99 Luftballons" with neon balloons exploding overhead, then fell into a messy, emotional "Butterfly."

I took them deep into the city's bones — Cold War bunkers, alleys smeared with graffiti, smoky döner joints, dusty cafés where you could still taste 1982 in the coffee. I forced Yoongi to eat currywurst. Made Jungkook order bubble tea in German. We stumbled into a protest — ended up dancing in the streets. The stage that night lit up when they shouted "Ich liebe euch." I watched fans cry.

Budapest Budapest was myth. Gold domes, fire bridges, the Danube shining like spilled wine. The Papp László Arena pulsed under their feet. They sang "Tavaszi Szél" and my throat tightened. Then came "Idol" — in Hungarian vests no less — and the whole place burned with joy.

I booked them a Danube night cruise. We filmed with Parliament behind us like a glowing cathedral of dreams. I told them how this city used to be two — Buda and Pest — and how the river still remembers. We wandered ruin bars. Ate chimney cakes until Tae nearly burst. One fan held up a sign: "Y/N Joon wedding when?" Another: "Your kids will be philosophers." I laughed so hard I nearly dropped my phone.

Athens Athens was sacred. Ancient breath, alive in the marble. The concert at the Lycabettus Theater was more than music — it was invocation. Stars above us. Stone beneath. The energy was electric and reverent. And then they performed "Dionysus" — dressed as Greek gods. Robes, laurels, golden skin and untamed fire. It was art. The kind that makes your pulse stop. The kind that feels like history folding in on itself. I had goosebumps for days.

After that, they sang "To Traino Fevgi Stis Okto." Their Greek was rough, but the crowd understood the heart behind it. Later, "Fire" lit the sky with real flames — and for a moment, it felt like Olympus had opened its gates.

I made them climb the Acropolis. Some barefoot. Some cursing. All silent at the top. I pointed out the ruins I used to cry beside, the one where I once read Sappho aloud to the sunrise. We danced in a taverna. Shouted "OPA!" until our throats hurt with Greek grandmas. I told them Greek has words that don't translate. One of them is kefi. I told them not to ask what it meant — to feel it instead.

After Athens, we disappeared. One week in Milos. No Santorini glam. No Mykonos clubs. Just cliffs and sea and quiet.

I'd run to this island before — when I needed to remember how to breathe. I took them to the caves I once cried inside. The coves where fishermen don't speak, only nod. We filmed underwater, laughed in silence. Jin learned to dive. Yoongi sat with a poetry book and let the sea curl around his ankles. Tae and Jimin wrote a song with nothing but a bouzouki and a bottle of wine. Jungkook tried to catch an octopus. It won.

Namjoon walked with me. Every dawn. Every sunset. No mics. No script. Just the hush of waves and the occasional gull. He kept looking at me — really looking. Like he was memorizing. The salt in my hair. The quiet in my mouth. The way I looked at the sea like it had secrets just for me.

POV Namjoon: 

The sun was starting to climb. Its golden fingers painted long shadows over the sand, turning everything soft and ancient, like this island had been waiting all its life just to cradle this morning.

She was out in the sea — floating, humming, chasing sunlight with her shoulders. I watched her from the rocks, pretending to flip through my book. But the words blurred. I couldn't focus. Not on Greek myths. Not on ancient gods.

Not when I was about to become one.

At least, that's how it felt. Like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, crown in hand, heart in my throat, about to ask someone to choose me — forever.

My fingers slipped into the linen pocket of my shorts, brushing the velvet outline of the small box. It had belonged to my grandma. My parents had shipped it to me all the way from Korea, and I had just received it in Athens. No ring yet. Just the box. Just the intention. I hadn't picked the diamond — hadn't seen it. I wanted to choose it with thought, with reverence. With the help of the people who knew me best. Who knew her.

I looked around the beach. Jin was setting up the last of the fruit platters under the shade. Jungkook and Taehyung were skipping stones — arguing about who was cheating. Yoongi had his earbuds in, scribbling something into his worn notebook. Jimin was lying half-asleep on a towel, hair tied, lashes resting against his cheeks. Hobi was filming everything on his phone, capturing the chaos, the beauty — all of us in these moments we'll never get back.

And I realized: they were all here. My family. My fire. My witnesses.

I stood up, exhaled, and walked toward them. My heart was pounding like it wanted to break the news before I did.

"Hyungs ," I called. Then louder, "Everyone. Come here for a second."

They gathered slowly, curious, a little wary.

"What's up?" Hobi asked, lowering his phone. "You okay?" "You sound serious," Jungkook blinked. "I am serious," I muttered, suddenly aware of how dry my throat felt. "Can we just... sit for a minute?"

They settled into the sand in a loose circle. A little sunburned, a little confused, still laughing between themselves — until they saw my face.

Yoongi was the first to speak. "What's going on, Joon?"

I looked past them, just once, toward the water. She was still there, a silhouette in the shallows. Still mine. Still unaware.

Then I turned back to the six people who knew me better than I knew myself.

"I'm going to propose."

Silence.

A beat. Two. Then—

"BRO—" Jungkook screeched and tackled me backward into the sand.

"YA!" Jin yelled so loud a couple of birds exploded into the sky.

"NO WAY—" Jimin clutched his chest like someone had stabbed him with a romantic knife. Taehyung let out a dramatic gasp and immediately started crying. Like, full-on misty-eyed 'the world is beautiful' tears.

"Wait, wait, wait—really?" Hobi beamed. "You're doing it?"

"You're actually gonna ask her?" Jimin gasped.

Yoongi didn't move. He just stared at me with that unreadable face — then broke into a slow, proud smile. "It's about time."

Taehyung grabbed my arm. "Hyung. This is better than any K-drama I've ever watched. You're gonna marry your best friend. This is like... peak cinema.""Don't cry, Tae," I chuckled."I can't help it!" he wailed, wiping his face with his shirt. "I've been SHIPPING YOU TWO FOR EVER!"

I was laughing now, breathless from Jungkook's grip, from Jin yelling, from Tae wailing something about true love.

"I haven't done it yet," I grinned, brushing sand off my back. "That's why I need you all."

They blinked.

"There's no ring," I admitted. "Not yet. I've been waiting for the right moment... and I want to choose it right. I have an appointment in Milan — a private jeweler. Quiet. Classic. Someone who'll help me build something timeless."

"And you want us to come," Jin said, already nodding.

"Exactly," I said. "I need eyes. Taste. People who won't let me mess it up."

"Say no more," Hobi clapped his hands. "I am so in."

"Me too," said Jimin, eyes already sparkling. "We'll make it unforgettable."

"I'm coming," Jungkook added, "but only if I get to veto anything too basic."

"Alright, Vogue squad," I laughed. "That's four of you. The rest—"

"We distract her," Yoongi shrugged. "Easy. I'll pretend I'm writing a sad song and need her help translating Homer." "I'll do something fun!" Taehyung chimed in. "Art museum? Horseback riding? OOH, wine-tasting—""No," I interrupted, "No alcohol. You'll get too talkative and she'll guess everything."

"Fine," he pouted. "I'll take her to that thermal spa thing. She's been wanting to go anyway." "Perfect," I said. "Spa day with Taehyung and a poetry crisis with Yoongi. She won't suspect a thing."

We all leaned back then, letting the sea breeze fold around us, hearts still racing from what was to come.

"I'm proud of you, Joon-ah," Yoongi said quietly behind me. That one landed like a stone in my chest — heavy and grounding. "You found your peace. You built it."

"I'm not crying," Jungkook said, voice cracking. "I'm just... sweating from my eyes."

"Okay, okay," I held up both hands. "Before we all start bawling and give it away—this stays secret. No one tells her. Swear it. Especially you, Kim Taehyung."

"YA!" he shrieked. "You don't trust me?" "I trust you with my life," I deadpanned. "Not with a surprise."

"I swear!" Jungkook said, raising his right hand like a solemn knight. "Me too," Jimin nodded, squeezing my hand. Yoongi just grunted and gave a thumbs-up. "I swear on my future Michelin stars," Jin added dramatically. "I will die before I tell her," Tae whispered, clutching his chest. "I will perish with the secret on my tongue."

"Okay, Romeo," I said, laughing. 

We all laughed. The sound echoed off the cliffs and faded into the sky.

"Can I ask one thing?" Jimin said softly. "Do you know what you're gonna say? When you propose?"

I looked up. The sea glittered behind them. She was walking back now — glowing, towel draped around her, smiling like the sun was inside her.

"I think I'll tell her," I whispered, "that loving her has been the most certain thing in my life. That even when the world moved too fast, she was the one thing that felt still — like home. Like something I didn't need to understand to believe in."

They didn't speak. They didn't need to.

Taehyung wiped his eyes with his sleeve again. Jungkook hugged me one more time. Yoongi's eyes stayed on me a little longer than usual.

And in that moment, I knew — whatever came next, I wasn't walking toward it alone.