[ YOONGI'S P.O.V. ]

There is a troubling feeling at my gut. I've felt this feeling before. I've felt it around the first years of debut, the times where I felt like I didn't make it – that the work I paid for was work watered down; my gut used to scream and clench when Bangtan almost disbanded.

But now, walking out of the same doors I had patiently walked into earlier, I'm back in the hallway I was seated at for waits. I'm waddling, dragging my feet, my head ducked. I can't believe what has happened. I can't believe what I've done. What I used to feel at my gut is 100x worse than what I remembered.

My eyes are stinging, and my heart is numbly sat in my chest cavity. Yet, my face shows no emotion. I don't cry. I understand others would in my shoes, but for reason I can't comprehend yet, I can't cry. I wonder if my tears soak up because you, beside me, you're crying hard for the both of us combined.

Expecting that, expecting your cheeks damp with tears, I glance over and spot nothing. You've run dry. Your head ducked similar mine, feet dragging zombie-like similar to mine, heart probably dead similar to mine, and gut twisted similar to mine. Similar to me.

It's this moment where I see my reflection. I see a little of me in you for the first time, and I almost cry in shakes in reflection of you – returning the same revelation back. But you don't look at me, you don't stare at me the way I do to you, so I stop myself from connecting, understanding. I look back to the ground.

Our parents are thrilled. They don't see the defeat, they don't see our sadness. We smile painfully, lips quivering in attempts to play on a show that shouldn't be. They hug us, we barely hug back. They pat our backs as we walk out, we run from their touches as we get to the stairs. Farther from them, farther from the reality we've made for ourselves now. We didn't say no, we didn't fight hard enough – now we're here: walking towards the cars that wait for our newly-wed-selves.

I'm cold. I'm cold outside without my jacket, but the hoodie I wear gives me warmth. I would want my jacket back, but I see the way you're swallowed in it, so I don't nudge it off your shoulders. I let you have it. I look away a second time, noting how long you've had your head ducked for.

"This is great," your mom says, hugging you to the bottoms of the stoned-stairs, "I can't believe my little girl is married." Your mother cries happy tears.

I blankly look to your father that smiles at me. I see he expects something from me. He expects me to keep your stable, keep you safe and keep you happy. Happy. Happy, I know to let him down in. His expecting eyes I look away from fast, looking towards my father that holds proud eyes. He's proud of me, I can see it. I only see these expressions from my father once or twice in my life. Not knowing whether I'll see it again, I cherish the look he gives; the look that comes from listening to him.

Finally, I look to my mother who cups my cheek. I almost jump, alarmed from the sudden touching. I wonder if she can see how warmly I look at her through my sunglasses I wear.

"I'm proud of you," she says out loud. Unlike my father, she says it out loud and I can see she means it from the way her eyes frame in frowns. She's smiling wildly, heart on the line as she holds back tears. "I'm so proud." She pats my cheek, moving up and kissing my cheekbone.

I close my eyes. My breath hitches when the mask I wear shifts awkward at my chin.

"It wasn't the ceremony we'd all wish for, but if it's settled in the eyes of the law, I approve of this." I can't tell if that's my father or yours. The more they're around each other, the more I hear the same person.

I hug my mother back. Glancing over her shoulder, I see that your cheeks rests on your mother's shoulder the same mine does on my mother. Again, a reflection you are to me, in this moment, in this time. I look away a third time.

"Now you," my mother playfully scolds, smile still present. She rubs my shoulders, fixing my bangs and lovingly soothing me. "I want you to bring her home okay?" My brows furrow. She continues, "As a married couple, I don't want you two separated right after the legal priorities were takin' care of. Help her bring her items home to us, help her vacate, and the surprises we've got waiting for the both of you at home will be ready by the time-"

"Surprises?" I ask, jaw clenching under my mother's fingertips. "I told you how I don't want this to be a big deal, in and out, I can't risk this getting out there." I whisper these words but can feel your awkward gaze meet the side of my face. I don't look at you.

"Just a little something, son. No need to worry about any of it."

"I-"

"Now hush," she silences me by kissing my cheek again. Patting my chest, she walks away, "Go on now you two. The sun will be down in a few hours and the last I want is for the both of you travelling back in the dark."

I don't nod, but I don't fight anymore. Finally glancing to your puffy and red eyes, I see the hesitancy you must let your mother go. I'm surprised you aren't crying, but you aren't and that only makes what I do surprisingly easier. I extend you my hand.

You look at my hand, our parents are smiling at my gestures. I can see that you're pressured to take my hand – not for yourself, you do it for them. Taking my hand slowly, both are palms are cold and lack sweat. I can barely feel when your fingers curl with mine, and I'm sure it helps that you can't feel my thumb caress the bottoms of your thumb.

"Be safe," your mother whispers out, pushing her hands into a flying kiss in our direction. She's crying, still happy, and holding onto my mother that starts to have her walk away. I don't question why they're being so overdramatic over a few hours apart. Their children are married now. Of course, they'd be overwhelmed.

When we separate from them, I hold your hand until we circle towards the passenger side. I open the door for you. The first time I've done this, and neither of us say a word. Rather, we're both mirror images: sulking with eyes to the ground.

I watch you sit, your hand leaves mine first. Hands to your lap along with your bouquet.
I stare, blink and finally look to the side of your face again.

Breaking my awing expression, I close the door for you. It's a soft close, not a bang or a dramatic act of anger. I make no noise as I move towards the driver's side. The windows are tinted and I'm glad as I watch our parents still waving, waiting for us to leave first. I wave pathetically, knowing they'll see my shadow.

The car roars,
I back out of the parking space,
I leave.

We don't speak to each other while I drive to your place.

I glance at you a few times, but I don't dare speak.

I notice you do the same. You glance at me a few times, but you don't dare speak.

We're closing in on our destination and the soft humming of music from the radio is all that keeps us both sane. I can tell you're lost in thoughts like the ones I'm coping with. I think about what we are now, what you are to me now...I feel like suffocating.

My trailing of thoughts is bruised when your fingers move with a soft rustle. From the corner of my eyes, I watch your fingers pull the necklace ring from between your breasts; the neckline of your dress allowing me to see it perfectly, while my necklace hides. Your fingers circle the shape of the ring, before both hands move to take the necklace off. I'm no longer staring from the corner of my eyes, my head completely moving to glance over.

"What're you doing?"

You softly look at me as I struggle in looking at the road and you. But then, I hear your soft voice say, "Pull over for a second, will you?" and in curiousity over what you're going to do or say, I listen. I pull over to a curb, passing a public park near your apartment complex.

I turn my head. The gas still running.

Your eyes are gentle and awkward when meeting mine. In the looks of it, you struggle in saying something to me, so I softly go, "What?" as a starter.

"Turn the car off."

My brows furrow. "What's wrong?"

"Just do it."

For the first in a long time, I listen to you and turn the keys – silencing the car.

We stare at each other. I still have my disguises on, making it easier for you to talk to me with soft wavers in your voice.

"Icarus will be at my apartment."

My brows unknit. I'm aware of where this conversation is going, I get uncomfortable. Holding my breath, I shift in my seat and awkwardly glance outside the windshield. You notice my discomfort and whisper, "I invited him over thinking I'd be going home alone tonight."

"For what reasons exactly?" I say lowly. I'm not mad. I'm not mad because I know the answers to all the questions I wish to ask.

"A goodbye."

"Through...?" I lick my lips, nibbling on them behind the mask that hides my expression from you.

You look vulnerable, sad, uncomfortable.

"Today was going to be our final farewell..."

I nod. It's hard for me to do so, but I nod. "I see."

You clear your throat. "I'm not some intimacy-hungry woman, I-I," you stop yourself from saying anything, "I don't know why I can't let him go...I know it's wrong for me to still have him around considering-"

"We're married now." I bluntly say, finishing for you.

Looking away from the grass and road in front of me, I'm back to staring at you. I can see you second-guessing yourself, doubting yourself, framing yourself as a bad guy that doesn't wish to be. I purse my lips. I know you're in turmoil, in hurting turmoil for your selfish needs I've cut off from the last I yelled at you. I don't know what to say about right now, I don't know what to say about right now...

"I can't help but feel the way I do about him...wanting to be around him still."

I nod. It's still hard to, especially now that I look at you as you say these things.

"But I'm married to you now, and-" your voice wavers, your eyes cloud. Fuck, she's going to cry again. We were at such a changing start, oh come on!

"Talk to me slowly, don't worry," I say with as much gentleness I can, "...just don't cry."

You purse your lips, nod like a child, and finger the bottom of your eyes. You stop yourself from successfully crying, and in the moments of watching you, I wonder why I stop you. I wonder why I'm stopping you from crying.

With a pained sigh, I mumble, "But if you feel like it, then let it out." I smile a little reassuringly, but you don't see it because of my mask.

With that, you're a shaking and whimpering mess. I want to roll my eyes internally, I want to call you 'sensitive', I want to make remarks on your 'weakness', but something within me stops me. I'm soft for your tears, your sniffles, and I simply watch without any turning back. I don't say or do anything to hurt you any further. I let you cry.

"I can't live like this, I can't live with you."

I don't take offense to that.
I listen.

"Icarus, I-I love him, I love him so much and I can't just leave all that I've built with him – everything I've built for myself with him – I can't just leave all that behind, I can't." You're shaking still.

"I understand that..."

"But it's too late now. I can't fight it now, I can't fight for him...I can't fight for us."

I purse my lips, nodding and staring over at the necklace ring you hold in your palms.

"I'm married to you, a man I'll never love," you sniffle, watery eyes jumping to mine, you then cutely mumble, "no offense."

"None taken."

"Okay." You sniffle again, sulking and playing with the ring that dangles between your thighs. "I'm sorry, there's just a lot going on in my head right now and...I needed to stop moving. I needed us to stop before I went to go see him again."

I watch you cry in silence. I watch your fingers move to cup your own cheeks as you wipe away the water. I watch. I'm always just watching.

"Do you feel guilty for wanting to see him?" I ask this with difficulty. No longer just listening, or just watching. I talk to you.

You nod.
I nod.

"Was it..." I clear my throat, "Were you planning on sleeping with him tonight?"

You don't say anything, shyly moving your gaze down from mine. I get my answer.

"Look, I don't want to tell you what to do but-"

"Then don't," you say gently, cutting me off. "I know what you're going to say."

"What was I going to say?" I challenge, forehead in a crinkle.

"The same you've already told me, but in nicer terms – as nice a man like you can get," you say lowly, moving the necklace ring into the cup holder of my car. It's as if you save yourself from offending me further as you claim, "You would've told me not to sleep with him...telling me how this would only hurt the both of us in return...that it's selfish...it's selfish for us to do."

"Ye." I swallow hard. I'm trying to keep my cool exterior, but I'm slowly starting to collapse and fail.

"But by saying those things Min Yoongi," you say my full name, considering my eyes, "By calling me selfish, stupid, and possibly highlighting the wrongs I'm doing, you control and constrict me from making my mistakes. I feel dirty for even thinking about being with someone I love. The more I talk to you, the more you yell at me...you become less of a man I married, and more of an image of my parents."

I don't say anything to that; shocked.

"Do you see your parents when you look at me?" you ask this softly. You ask, wanting to know me. You yearn to know more about me, but I shield up and barely allow you in.

I glance to my past.
I glance to my view of my parents.
I glance to meeting you again.
I glance to this day, this signing,
and the minutes after we walked out together.
No, I want to say, No, I don't see my parents.
When I look at you, I see myself.

"Yeah," I chuckle lightly, hiding behind walls I create, "I see my parents."

"Which is why you're always so angry around me?" You smile lightly, as if you've gotten an answer you understand from me. It's clear you feel like you've gotten closer to me in these moments, but I've lied straight to your face and wedged a distance further.

I don't nod.
But you do. You nod.

"Don't act like you know everything about me now, it doesn't work like that." I irritably mutter, and you narrow your eyes at me.

"I'm just trying to talk and build a mutual understanding. I want you to know how you effect me, how you hurt me."

"Why not figure out how you're hurting yourself instead?" I ask, brows knitting as I look over towards your form that hunches over in shock over my change in attitude. "You know how upset you'll be when and if you see him. Why put yourself through that?"

"I love him."

I snort. "If you loved him, he'd be far away from you by now."

You're blinking back fresh new tears now. "You see! This is what I meant!"

"I'm just trying to be the smart one here!" I holler, defended. I'm louder than necessary, and you jolt, shaking. "You'll sleep with him, it'll hurt leaving him again, and then you're back to square one. We both know this is a bad idea, so don't try to defend your actions by saying I'm being controlling."

"I'm having my time with Icarus today," you say through your teeth, getting angered with me now. "...and it's not to make a point. I miss him, I love him, and I need him in my life."

"If you truly loved him you'd-"

"Leave him alone?" you ask, finishing what you thought I'd say.

I shake my head.

Your eyes soften just a little, but your voice is still angry and desperate as you whine, "Then what?"

"If you truly loved him you wouldn't have married me." I say this, plain and simple. I feel like I've been saying this since I met you again.

I know I'm wrong in some contexts. I know you had no choice, even though in ways you did. We're the same, we're on the same page. You're my reflection and yet I treat you as if you're the reason this has happened...as if you're the reason my life is now ruined.

You cry.
You cry hard.
But I expect it and don't seem to care.

Your hands fish for the necklace ring in the cup holder, you dangle it fast and swing it to hit my chest. I catch the jewelry before it falls too far on my form, staring at you leaving the car.

"Take this too," you whine, stripping out of my jacket.

You struggle with the sleeves, the fabric gluing to you.

I watch, expression bored, "Just keep it on, it's cold."

"Take this. I don't fucking want it!" You're still struggling in getting it off.

"Still waiting."

You whine at my half-ass attempts of being gentle-men like. Managing to get out, you throw the jacket towards me. I catch it, hands holding both the jacket and your necklace.

"Where do you want me to wait for you?" I ask, starting up the car again. My voice and body language give less-than-two-shits.

"Just wait in the parking lot," you grumble.

You slam the door shut behind you.
In the processes that you do, my smart-ass remarks make their calling while I shout.

"How long is your mistake going to take today?"

-

2 hours.

I wait in the parking lot for two hours.

The stages of anger I went through now dimmed to nothing but tiredness, with a pinch of laziness for this dreadful situation. From twiddling my thumbs, to shoving the steering wheel, to getting hungry and going for a food run...the two hours spent alone in my car was enough for me to find some sort of relaxation. Through chaos, I still managed to find cooling relaxation.

Now, 2 hours later, I still wait for you.
I wait, expecting to see Icarus walk out first. With his perfect body and smile, I wait to think he'll come to leave with messy hair. Then, I expect to see you numbly walk out, blinking back tears, and saying, "You were right," as you get into my car again.
Now, 2 hours later, I still wait for you.

The only difference now, is that I wait with an expectation over what's to come. In my mind, my points win. I'm stubborn even with the development of my expectations.

Lazily taking a nap for a moment, in and out I am. The tiredness I feel leaves immediately when I spot Icarus first. Smiling to myself, I can tell I'm right, and my predictions come true as the man steps out. His shirt is barely buttoned, his hair is messy, and there are love bites around his collar. But then, my smile falls, my predictions go out the window, and I watch as you're with the man. Hand-in-hand, the both of you smile lovingly at each other by the apartment's exit.

I sink in my seat. My eyes are wide. I'm cursing to myself. But no matter what happens, I can't help but stare as the man holds you in his arms and kisses you deeply. With a soft tug, you move away from him, wave, and watch as he leaves. Neither of you are crying, neither of you are sad. What the fuck?

My expectations are gone.

The tanned man comes down to the parking lot from the stairs before me. I sink so far down in my seat, it's almost embarrassing that I don't want to be seen from the man. Seeing as he doesn't care to look for me, the man disappears into his car, starts the engine, and pulls away. You wave, watching him go.

The smile that was on your face leaves you as you glance around the parking lot before your eyes find me. Even with my sinking, you've spotted me, and I clear my throat, act cool, and stand tall in my seat. Exiting the car, I've been living in for the past few hours, I slam the door behind me, watch as you snicker in my direction and walk inside.

"Don't walk away from me," I call out. But you do, you walk away.

I'm struggling in running up the stairs, but I do. And as you get to the elevator, I'm by your side. Breathless, I notice the marks by your neck and have my upper-lip twitch. This I expected, the obvious of you sleeping with Icarus I expected, but that good-bye in the end, I didn't expect. I have questions.

"Explain now."

"Explain what?" you mumble, walking into the elevator.

I follow you in before you can close the doors on me.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. If this was a final farewell, he wouldn't be so chirpy, and nor would you."

You wave your hair away, snapping your head cockily in my direction. It angers me.

"That's because we didn't have our final farewell."

My brows furrow. "What're you going on about?"

"This won't be the last I see of him."

My lips part. "Excuse me?"

You smile at me, fake and uninterested. The elevator doors open and I'm following you out like a lost puppy – still looking for answers to many more questions that now have evolved.

"You said it yourself, no? You'll be divorcing me soon enough," you shrug, smiling further as you bend over to pick up your keys. In front of your apartment door, I feel myself sweating as you go on, "I realized with that information, I have my way out...I have my escape."

"On what terms?"

"Why let Icarus leave my life when we can stay together? I told him about you, and your plans on divorce. He made it clear to me that if that was the case, and you weren't interested in me as a wife...there is no reason for him to be out of the picture."

"Huh?" My mouth ran dry, my eyes wide.

You opened your apartment door, ready for the big move. I stopped you, holding your arm and arching you backwards to face me fast. You did, flinching softly from my grip as you did however. "What?" you asked, confused as you stared at my bewildered state.

"He can't just be around, we..."

Your brows furrow at me trailing off. "We?"

"We're married now." I say this softly, staring down at your beautiful face I'll never explicitly compliment about.

"And?"

"What do you mean, 'and'? If our parents find out he's still around you, he's still-"

"Then good. They'll know my answers towards this whole arrangement."

"Wow," I scoff, anger resurfacing, "Once again with the passive-aggressiveness instead of being upfront, I see I see." It annoys me further when instead of being hurt or defensive by that, you grin.

"If they question me about it in the future, that'll be a problem for that time. All I see right now is the perfect opportunity to still love a man I want in my life...I see nothing wrong with it."

"But-"

"Answer me this," you say softly, cutting me off and stepping towards me.

I shut up fast. You're a little too close for me to handle.

"What?" I ask lightly, trying not to stare at your lips another man has already tainted with his taste.

"You're divorcing me, right?"

I nod. No hesitation.

You nod, smiling a little as you seal your lips – the same things I stare so hard at.

"...do you want me as a wife? A partner?" You ask this softly, freeing your lips into a pucker again.

I swallow hard.

"Answer," you urge, staring at my eyes.

You want honesty.

I swallow hard again.

"Do you want me?" This question hits me in an uncomfortable way.

I shake my head. I shake my head with slight hesitation.

"No contract, no rings...n-nothing," I lick my lips, not knowing just how heavy what I say next is, "nothing can make you my partner. You'll never be my wife."

You stare at my lips I licked earlier. Then you stare to my eyes. You smile.

"Then I see no problem with Icarus still being in my life." The grin you hold becomes adorable. "If it doesn't bother you, and our parents are in the dark, what's the issue?"

I step away from you with a nervous smile on my face.

[ YOONGI'S P.O.V. END ]