[ YOONGI'S P.O.V. ]

"Come down quickly!" I hear my mother's voice in the kitchen of the house.

"Yeah, yeah, they're coming!" My father chuckles. He walks alongside your father, both of them talking and reuniting after years of distance.

I picture their bond, our mother's bond, yet I watch you walk down the stairs in front of me alone with my bitter-self following late. There is no bond between us—none that I try to find at least.

Your hand that has the ring I gave, softly touches the stair's wood as we shift down to the final steps. I can't help but constantly stare at the ring I bought. The idea of how I got it on to your finger bothering me, but I don't say anything about it. I pretend I'm fine. I pretend I'm fine with everything that is falling into chaos around me.

Shuffling towards the kitchen, I don't see much of a surprise at first. But moving to stand at a distance next to you, we both see a crisp book both women hold in their hands.

"What's that?" Your voice is soft and gentle while asking. It confuses me. I remember you always being loud and obnoxious...

"A photo album dedicated to the both of you," your mother chimes out, her smile is what I imagine yours to look like. Yours, individually, I haven't seen yet.

You step forward first.
I follow, slightly curious over how special it could be to have us come downstairs.

"We've got it for after your wedding day so—" you reach to touch it, but your mom slaps your fingers playfully away, "—no touching."

"If we can't even look into it yet, why are we down here?" I say loosely, eyes narrowing.

My father speaks with his awkward jokes again. This time, my eyes don't shut with defeat, but my jaw does retract a little. He says, "Is that hurry to be alone in a room, I hear?"

I can't even look at your reactions to that, at this point. Too embarrassed and uncomfortable, I glare over at my father and look back to the mother's who are trying not to smile. "Was there anything else?" I ask annoyed.

"Yes," my mother is excited. "We had wedding rings for the two of yo—" she stops when she grabs your hand, brings it sweetly up. Her eyes catch a ring on your finger and everyone apart from me, are confused over the diamond.

"I bought her one." My throat clears. I awkwardly cup my hands in front of my jeans, rolling my shoulders back causing the chains at my neck to tangle.

My mother's eyes soften.
Your mother's eyes soften.
Even our father's soften behind us.

"You bought her one?" Your mother looks like she might cry. I don't understand what the big deal is, so I stay quiet and watch them grow happy of my gesture.

"It's a little small dear," my mother finally speaks, examining the way the rings clogs at your finger. "She can't keep this on without having her finger chopped off later." She laughs, my skin crawls.

"It's an average size. How chubby are her fingers, exactly?" I don't mean to come off too harsh, but my anger seeps out.

You stare to my face. I can tell you're getting more and more annoyed over my attitude as time flies sharing the same air as me. Even with your hurt eyes meeting mine, I do nothing but roll my shoulder back again, and focus on the ring being an issue.

"Oh don't be rude," my mother scolds, laughing before shaking the ring off your finger. There is redness there, the woman pouts. "It would've gotten swollen if on for too long. Yoongi-ah! Didn't you notice it could've been hurting her finger?"

You twitch in discomfort.
I realize that I didn't pay much to anything apart from myself ever since I got here—let alone your finger I forcefully suffocated with an engagement ring.

This strange feeling at my gut is back.

"I'm fine, really." Again, your voice is weirdly small. I see you slowly trying to move your palm back to your side, but my mother doesn't allow it. Looks like I know where I got that instinct from...

"Don't be silly, you should've nudged him and put him in his place for doing this." My mother smiles sweetly at you. I can see how fondly she thinks of you, and how excited she is to have a daughter-in-law. Just the expressions shared for a moment between you two, makes me ease-up.

"Good thing we have another set of rings, they're your wedding bands but—"

My jaw clenches, "I thought it was going to be a contract only? You know I can't have word out that I'm getting married, that's the only way I'll be able to confront my members with this news and not have them freak—by promising to keep...keep her on-the-low." Again, my phrases are harsher than intended.

You look to me.
When I snap my head to see you, you look away. You keep doing that and I can't tell if I'm annoyed.

"We aren't going to have a grand wedding son," my father says with a low voice, it is scolding to have me behave and not yell. "Nor are we having a small get-together with any of our family. This is the greatest of secrets that can be, so don't worry about your work, consider bigger things happening for you right now: like this marriage."

My eyes narrow at that. I don't turn to look at my father and fight with my words. I know I won't win since this would turn into the same argument a month, when I visited, and they confronted me regarding you.

.

"I'm an idol," I said through my teeth, not understanding where any of this fit in the course of life now. "I've put all my time in trying to make you both proud of me as a son; through music and career. I can't marry someone I barely know just because you two forgot about a promise you made with her parents. I can't. I can't just marry someone like that."

"You've always been the one to not listen, to be selfish," my father spits, not understanding where my rages spew from. "Nothing we say goes for you anymore, especially after you proved us wrong with your career paths!"

"But I was right! I was right to do what I did, I was right to chase after my passions my dreams, because I loved doing so." My voice is pained, finishing, "Don't make me chase after a girl I don't plan on loving. It won't work..."

My chest flared, eyes weak, and jaw angry as it clenched.
At the end of all accomplishments, all I did for myself, in their eyes I'd always be a rebellious child that needed guidance - I'll always be the trouble maker.

.

"Just a contract, we promise." My mother tries to be sweet to me, noticing the anger at my eyes.

"Okay," is all I say through the trapping of my teeth.

"When is it?" You ask. It takes me a while to notice your existence again.

"End of this week," my mother coos, her hand still holding yours, "...we've been talking about this week, and how it would be healthy for you two to see each other more before signing the contract."

It would also be healthy to not get married at all! "What exactly do you advice?" I ask, upper lip starting to twitch from the irritation I can't maintain.

"Well," your mother now speaks for mine, "We were hoping, since you're here visiting, that you'd take your fiancée to a few dates." I'm surprised they don't notice the shaking of my upper lip at this point.

"Sure." My voice is high with frustration.

"Mom, I don't—" You're cut off. I don't notice a pattern regarding how you always are.

"...and the night before the contract, since there is no ceremony, I'd really like for the bride to stay with us here." My mother is back to excitedly saying her mind. "A supervised night spent with the family and each other, would be a great way to have everyone comfortable with such fast changes. I mean, you two will be living with each other in the matters of a week and a half."

I'm tense. I'm barely moving a muscle but I see the panic at your body from this information. It is clear to everyone that you weren't aware of the move.

"I can't just pick up my life from here and move to the city with him, I—"

"You can write your books from anywhere," your father's voice says behind us, "He has to live near his work. He's a hard-working musician, you have to make compromises." My brows furrow at how degrading and unfitting this sounds to your needs, and I see the way you take it as you silently look to your feet.

"We could stay separately, it's fine. I'll come and visit her on my breaks." I jump in to mend the situation and take the hot-light off you who was finally allowed to speak for more like 2 seconds.

"You rarely get vacation." My mother reminds.

Exactly, it'll be perfect not to see her everyday! "I'll make time."

"That's ridiculous, you can't newly be married and stay separate from each other like that," My mother shakes her head, "We can't have that."

"Let's talk about the logistics later. First, we still have to set the time slots for the signing." My father briefly chimes in, lazily wanting such conversations to end.

"Yes yes!" The smile on my mother's face is back. She's happier than ever and I wonder if, from the ways she acts she's the one getting married. "You two stay with one another and have fun today. The rest of us will be going to figure out the cram-times to have this work—no stresses or pressure on you though, alright? Just try getting to know each other better." My mother is rambling out, rushing to grab her coat and bag while your mother follows from her tugs forward.

"Don't touch the photo-collage yet!" My mother is still scolding, half-way out the door. "Or the wedding rings!" Then my father says, "Of course they can touch the wedding rings! Wear them, put them on each other!" The door closes and I'm glad I can't hear more.

I sigh when they leave. I sigh loud, and my hands move in front, my body leans on the kitchen counter before me. I squeeze the marble counter hard, my fingers going whiter than white. "Fuck..."

I hear your heels.
It takes me this long to notice the fact that you're wearing heels. I watch, from the corner of my eyes as you walk away from me and towards the back door which leads to my backyard.

You enter the cold evening outside. I see you hug yourself through the transparent glass, the poking at my cheek by my tongue makes it's resurfacing. I squeeze the counter again, debating on whether I should join you.

I can hear you trying not to cry, and failing from here. You keep crying but I don't blame you for doing so. I feel the sadness and overwhelming nature of the situation too.

Licking over my chapped lips, I maneuver my pathway to the bag left by the black photo book on the table. Wanting to open the book, I don't. I simply rummage through the bag and hold the two rings in my hand; the red silk that they're wrapped in, I move from reach.

Turning my head so I can see you outside again, I stare at your back for a long while, look at your dress, your legs, then I come back to the rings that clank at my palm.

Closing my fist,
I swallow hard,
then I move slow but steady.
I finally find the courage to follow you outside.

Closing the door behind me, I don't notice you instantly move to give me space. Your bare shoulders tense. Your mouth leaves cold air that fogs, and I'm warm in my jacket that hugs well. "It's freezing out here, why are you out?"

"Careful," you speak, cheeks damp and clear for me to see. No matter how hard you try to hide it, I see it. "We aren't even married yet and you're already trying to control my movements." Your voice is bitter.

I expect this reaction.

"Here," I whisper, moving to open my palm in front of you. "Wear one." They're gold solid rings. Nothing fancy, no diamonds. Just plain and simple: gold.

I take one from my palm for myself.
I wait for you to take the other.

You don't take it.
My lips purse as you stare at the darkening sky, the uncut grass in the backyard, and the beaten down and rusted fence the back is surrounded by.

It's surprising what I say next. I can tell it surprises you as well, since your watery eyes look over to me slowly. "Please?" I ask, shaking my hand lightly and less aggressively when compared to previous attempts.

You take the ring.

I pay attention to mine as I start to hesitate with my gold chains. Moving to take one off, I don't catch you staring at my every move until one is officially in my hands.

I put the ring through the hole and dangle it in the air on the chain, before putting it back to my necklace and tightening at the back.

As I let it fall back in place, but with the gold ring now as a new attachment, I finally catch your watch on me. My eyes perform a double-take, my words soft as I say, "What?"

"Why not your finger?" You're hesitant to probe a question, I can tell you are. "You didn't even check whether it's big or small on you..."

"I'm an idol. Everyone would notice." You don't nod or understand my explanation. I don't try explaining further. I pick a thinner chain of mine up and go, "You want a necklace? I'm not forcing you to wear it on your finger."

"You did force me...upstairs."

Eyes are no longer looking to me anymore. Back to the sky, back to the grass, none to me.

'I didn't mean to come out so harsh' I want to say, but instead, I say, "Right." Not even a simple apology leaves me.

You don't look to me again.

I start to take another chain of mine off. In my hands and laying it out, I steal the ring away from your fingers causing your breath to jump in surprise. You stare at my fingers work, putting the ring through the hole and making it fall to the Center as I hold the ends up. "Here," I walk behind you to help put it on.

Awkward at the sudden closeness we both are, I try not to get flustered over how there's no longer fighting. You move your hair aside and allow me to tighten the jewelry at the back of your neck. I stare at you for a long while on accident, hearing you snap me out and have me panic in a hurry as I finish.

"Is it not closing?" You had ask.

The chain falls to your neck, I trip backwards. But both are played off cool as I stare into the sky and lean in ways with my walk—making it known that I don't care of the world.

"Thanks," You awkwardly whisper after a while of me trying to handle my embarrassment alone.

"Y-Yeah." I don't say much of anything after that. All I do is watch you from the corner of my eye.

Your fingers are around the ring, playing with it and the chain that dangles between the fabrics of your dress, between your breasts. There is a longing in your eyes as you stare forward, you're no longer crying and I wish to talk, to hear what your mind is thinking, but I don't say anything.

I just follow your gaze and stare at whatever you're looking at.

We stand in silence.
We stand in weird peace.
Peace of our situations,
Silence of both our mouthes, minds, and problems which are shunned.

Then you bluntly say something.
You say something while still twirling the ring playfully with your fingers.

I stare away from the ring, your chest, and then the side of your face as I hear what you say.

"I had to leave my boyfriend for this...for you."

I choke on air.
All cool lost,
I'm alarmed.

"Boyfriend?" I ask pained.