Seokjin drums his fingers along the top of the table outside the grocery store. He looks out, his eyes unfocused but fixated on something in the pitch-black sky as his mind quietens into a stupor, a tired and exhausted silence that neither he nor Namjoon bother to break. There's only the faraway sounds of cars driving by every now and then, the sounds of the grocery store's door sliding open every now and then. The wind whips up a little and it nips at the exposed skin just above the collar of Seokjin's t-shirt, so he shivers and brings his focus back to his ramyeon in front of him. He picks up his chopsticks and picks up as much as he can and shovels it into his mouth.

"Seokjin-ssi?" Namjoon mumbles as he watches Seokjin resumes stuffing his face.

He only returns Namjoon's look after he swallows down everything in his mouth. Wipes his lips on the back of his hand. "No one is going to hurt my baby brother," Seokjin tells him flatly, adamantly, before he continues with his ramyeon. Slowly, cautiously, Namjoon does the same.

"You seem rather... calm."

"Yeah," Seokjin replies in between mouthfuls. Jeongguk is his little brother and Seokjin's last surviving family member, and Seokjin loves him more than anything this world can offer, so he knows Jeongguk's lifespan like it's imprinted onto the front surface of his brain. Jeongguk's lifespan was and is always going to be the one ray of light in Seokjin's life; in the midst of everything that is rotten and decaying in Seokjin's world, Jeongguk's lifespan is the one thing that makes him realise that this life of his isn't so bad. That there's something worth living for. That his baby brother would have a long and prosperous life. He knows Jeongguk's lifespan like it's imprinted onto the surface of his brain, and there is absolutely no way he would die in a month.

And even if his lifespan does change, even if the world is cruel enough to do that to Jeongguk the way it had no qualms of doing so to Namjoon, Seokjin would stop it. No matter what. This wasn't up for discussion.

There's a fire lit in Seokjin's heart, and it burns away every shred of sadness in him. He looks up at Namjoon, his lifespan blaring sixty-six days and the fire grows, blazing down every doubt, every concern, every fear that he'd carried around until now.

Seokjin might have once believed that he was powerless against the numbers, to change them or fight against them, but he douses that version of himself in petrol and he ignites it.

"No one," Seokjin begins resolutely after he finishes off his ramyeon, "is dying under my watch. No one."

He remains motionless as he watches that weaker version of himself dying in the midst of the flames that he kindled himself. The blaze grows and grows until there's a storm in Seokjin's chest that burns down everything in its wake, and from the ashes of everything left behind, he rises anew.

He doesn't sleep at all, that night. After he and Namjoon had finished off their ramyeon, Seokjin had driven him back home even though his apartment was just around the corner, and before Namjoon had stepped out of the vehicle, he turned to Seokjin and told him something that, along with the image of Jeongguk's lifespan that's burned into his memory, keeps replaying over and over in his memory, keeping him awake.

"Seokjin-ssi," Namjoon had started, after they'd both finished their ramyeon and started to feel the cold seeping back into their skins, "do you remember, in your final year of university, a mock trial that you participated in?"

Seokjin's drawn expression didn't change as he stared at Namjoon, who, for some reason, had leaned back in the plastic chair and looked somewhat relaxed. Seokjin didn't answer him, and Namjoon didn't seem to mind.

"I watched the trial. That was the first time I saw you. I was working towards international law at the time, but after that trial... I switched to criminal law, like you. I didn't hesitate. I just... was completely entranced by you."

Seokjin turns over in his bed and curls his hands into fists. It's nearing three in the morning and he's still wide awake. There are still thoughts racing through his mind, rushing by so quickly that Seokjin can't quite make out the details of any of them, and it makes his head spin. All he understands from the blur is that Jeongguk is being targeted, Jeongguk is being targeted, Jeongguk is being targeted.

"I know I'm mean to you a lot of the time," Namjoon had said to him, "but I've never once regretted working with you. Tonight, as well, I was reminded of how much I admire you."

Seokjin reaches out and holds onto the words Namjoon had uttered to him, holds onto it like it's an anchor amidst the whirlpool stirring inside his mind. He focuses on those words, he takes deep breaths, and he forces his mind to stop. To ground himself onto those words.

He doesn't sleep at all that night.

He's up and out of bed the second the sun breaks above the horizon and the first tendrils of light start to seep into his room through his curtains. He marches over to his bathroom, showers and brushes his teeth, dresses himself, and he's in his car while the sky is still half dark. Seokjin's hands are curled tightly around his steering wheel as he drives, the roads quiet but thrumming slowly with other early risers before the rush hour really sets in. He drives, determinedly, taking a route he could navigate through with his eyes closed.

Jeongguk's hair is sticking up in all different directions when he comes to answer the door, eyes glued shut and a pissed off look squeezing his facial features together. "What the fuck time do you think this is?" he mumbles, voice raspy and tired as he scratches his belly.

Seokjin ignores the question. He flicks his eyes up to Jeongguk's lifespan.

Seventy-three years, one month and eight days. The numbers still tell Seokjin that Jeongguk will live to the age of ninety-five, but seeing those numbers, seeing them unchanged, doesn't release any of the tension from Seokjin's shoulders. His mind is still filled to the brim with dread.

"Hyung," Jeongguk mutters, cracking open his eyelids. "What do you want?"

Instead of answering, Seokjin just lets himself in. Jeongguk takes a few steps back into his apartment to let Seokjin in, and he closes the door shut behind him. He looks around the apartment, takes a step inwards, and then realises it's useless to search the apartment. If there was anything off about this place, Jeongguk would know.

"Do you mind," Jeongguk pauses to yawn, "telling me why you're here so early?"

Seokjin turns to face Jeongguk who looks like he's desperate to crawl back into bed. "Do you have that letter?" Seokjin ignores Jeongguk and asks his own question. "The most recent anonymous letter."

To this, Jeongguk opens his eyes and stops scratching his stomach. "It's at the station. Why?"

Seokjin stuffs his hand quickly into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He navigates quickly to his chat with Jeongguk and finds the photo of the letter Jeongguk had sent to him. Jeongguk arrives by his side and looks down at the screen of Seokjin's phone. "This eye," Seokjin begins sombrely, causing Jeongguk to peer a little closer to the phone as if he doesn't already have the image burned into his memory, "refers to me. A third eye. It sees things normal eyes don't. It sees lifespans."

Jeongguk pulls back and looks at Seokjin. Seokjin doesn't return the look but from the corner of his vision he sees Jeongguk part his lips, to question him, to argue against him, he doesn't know, but he doesn't give Jeongguk the chance to do either.

"And down here," he points to the two symbols at the base of the triangle, "these aren't numbers. It's hangul. ㅍ and ㅣ. Put those together, you get blood."

"Hey, hyung," Jeongguk slowly reaches out to clasp Seokjin's shoulder, firmly. "How much did you sleep, last night?"

"Not even a little bit. These two letters make up the word blood, but they're separated on this diagram. Split in half. ㅍ on one side, ㅣon the other side."

"Okay..." Jeongguk trails off, his voice thick with concern. Seokjin hasn't slept and his mind is running at a mile a minute, too fast to stop and think about anything other than this, but even now he can tell Jeongguk is more concerned about Seokjin than about what Seokjin is trying to tell him. He huffs.

"Half-blood, it's saying. Half-blood of the third eye. Do you know who the half-blood of the third eye is? It's you, Jeongguk."

Jeongguk's tired, half-asleep eyes open slowly, until they're wide open and staring at Seokjin. Seokjin bites down on his lip and suddenly feels his mind screeching to a halt as his tiredness catches up to him, and he feels every single hour he'd spent awake and staring at the ceiling. He cranes his neck back, feeling it creak and ache, and he stares up at the ceiling again. "Is that true?" he hears Jeongguk whisper.

His mind is at a standstill.

"Hyung, is that true? Am I next?"

Seokjin stands at the shore of an island he's stranded on. The water is up to his hips, now, slowing his legs down, anchoring him into the sand. It's difficult to move, now, and it's only a matter of time, Seokjin knows, until a wave knocks him off his feet, and he drowns. Dread rises in him slowly and steadily, much like the water he knows will claim him one day.

He pulls in a deep, sharp breath. "You," he begins, huffing out and expelling all the air in his lungs, "are the next target, yes. But whoever it is... they won't kill you."

Jeongguk presses his lips together, pinches his eyebrows down. "So I'm guessing... my lifespan is long. Well, long enough to make you think I won't be killed by them."

Swallowing harshly, Seokjin nods. He looks at Jeongguk's lifespan like he has to make sure, like he doesn't trust it to change at the drop of a hat, but it's there and in all it's glory. Jeongguk will live to see ninety-five. He was always going to live to see that age, and nothing will change that.

He realises comically late, as he pulls the soft and sleepy Jeongguk into his arms and hugs him tightly, that the one who will die will most likely be himself.

Because if the killer is going to target Jeongguk, then Seokjin will stop it. There's no question about that. Seokjin will do whatever it takes to keep his brother alive.

You feel different, his mother had said to him.

You feel like death, she said. He didn't know what that meant, back then. Had a couple of ideas in his mind that feel like acid to think about, thoughts that orbit his title, the Grim Reaper, but that wasn't it. That wasn't it, at all. He felt like death because his lifespan had changed. She couldn't see it, but she sensed it.

Seokjin smooths his hand over Jeongguk's soft hair. "Don't worry," he tells him, his voice steady and calm. "I won't let anything happen to you."

There's a storm brewing, far out in the horizon. The skies are turning dark and clouds begin to gather and coalesce. The water is up to Seokjin's hips, but he stares into the eye of the storm and he vows to stay stalwart until he's protected the ones he loves. He will not be swept away in the waves until then.

By the time Seokjin arrives to work, Namjoon is already there, already working. There are more files on his desk than before, and he has a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose. When Seokjin walks in Namjoon looks up and pushes the glasses back up. "Oh, you're here early."

Seokjin looks up at the clock on the wall behind his own desk. It's nine AM, and Seokjin supposes that Namjoon is right. Seokjin never arrives to work this early. He looks back at Namjoon, at his sixty-five remaining days, and then back at his face, the thick-rimmed glasses he's wearing. "I guess I am. Do you always wear glasses?"

A sheepish laugh from Namjoon surprises Seokjin just before he takes the glasses off and sets them down on his desk. "No. These are just for concentration. My eyesight is good."

"Keep them on," Seokjin replies as he walks into the office, dumps his coat onto a hanger and plops down in his chair. "They look good on you."

Namjoon doesn't reply, but he wordlessly slips his glasses back on and tries to re-immerse himself in his work. But he doesn't get very far with trying, Seokjin realises, as he straightens back up again and looks over at Seokjin who hasn't yet begun to prepare himself for working. "Hey. Seokjin-ssi, what are you going to do?"

"About?"

"Your little brother."

Seokjin licks his lips and presses them together. He looks away from Namjoon and down at his desk and he takes a deep breath before he looks back up at Namjoon. "I've already told him. He's going to be heavily guarded on the sixteenth if we don't catch the guy before then. I'll be with him on that day as well. Just in case."

Namjoon nods slowly. "Do you want me there, too?"

Blinking, Seokjin looks up at Namjoon from across the office. "Why would you want to? It's going to be dangerous," he warns Namjoon.

But Namjoon doesn't seem to be fazed, at all. He shrugs like it's no big deal. "Yeah, well," he mutters vaguely, and he looks up at Seokjin. Their eyes meet, suddenly, and it almost catches Seokjin off-guard. He freezes, a little, and stares back like he can't do anything else. He doesn't know what to say, if there's anything to say at all, until Namjoon looks away, first. Seokjin lets his shoulders sag.

He presses his lips together and holds back his tongue like there's a million things he wants to say, a million different things on his mind that he can't verbalise even if he wanted to. He just looks at his screen, and he tries to push back all the dark clouds in his mind so that he can focus on work.

"Hey, Seokjin-ssi," Namjoon calls out to him, snatching his attention away from the file he was looking at. Namjoon is looking at him from across the office, a sheaf of paper in his hand and a wrought look on his lips. Seokjin only raises his brows as an invitation to speak, and Namjoon understands straight away. He shows the paper to Seokjin, but from across the office Seokjin can't make out what's printed on it.

"What's that?" Seokjin asks, leaning forward on his chair, squinting.

"I don't know, you tell me," Namjoon begins. "I found it in one of my drawers. It's a marriage document."

Seokjin stares at him, confused.

"It has both our names written on it, in your handwriting. You signed your part."

"Oh," Seokjin sounds as he remembers what Namjoon is talking about. A marriage document he'd printed out a while ago and filled out with the intentions of annoying Namjoon. He'd hidden it in one of the drawers of Namjoon's desk one day and left it there. He'd hoped that Namjoon would find it, and he'd hoped to see him get annoyed and flustered, but it was left unnoticed, Seokjin guesses, until now. "Sorry," he tells Namjoon, "you can throw that away."

Namjoon folds the paper up until it's too small to fold up anymore. "That reminds me," he starts, his voice mild and airy like Seokjin's previous wishes to annoy him had completely and utterly failed, "Jugyeong and her boyfriend are getting married this weekend."

"Huh?" Seokjin mutters, perking up slightly and facing Namjoon. "Is the wedding that soon?"

Namjoon nods. "Did you forget?"

Seokjin presses his lips together and doesn't confirm nor deny, but the tiny smile that appears on Namjoon's lips tells Seokjin that Namjoon realises that he did, in fact, completely forget. He doesn't, however, say anything about it. He doesn't try to tease Seokjin about it or tell him off for forgetting the wedding of one of their colleagues. Instead, he asks, "are you going?"

"Don't think so," Seokjin replies, licking his lips.

"Why not?"

"I don't really feel like it."

"I think you should," Namjoon begins, thumbing edges of the papers in the file on his desk. "There's a lot going on, I know. But it might be nice to go. Take your mind off it all. Besides, I'm going, and I don't want to go alone."

"You have friends, here," Seokjin reminds him. "You won't be going alone."

"Still," Namjoon presses, his voice deepening with a hint of urgency, "I want you to come with me. Now, can you say something inappropriate because I'm getting anxious."

"W-what?" Seokjin stutters. "You want me to say something inappropriate?"

He nods. "It doesn't feel right when you don't."

Seokjin bites on his lip. "S-sorry. I... I'm not really in the mood. I'll... I'll be back to normal soon. I promise."

"Okay. Don't apologise. Just... come to the wedding this weekend."

"I..." Seokjin trails off momentarily, and swallows, hard. He looks over at Namjoon who's staring at him, intently, but with a hopeful look in his eyes under his furrowed brows. Seokjin licks his lips again for what feels like the hundredth time. They feel dry again. "Okay. I'll go."

Namjoon smiles mildly and returns his attention to his work. "Good," he replies lightly.

Seokjin turns his head down and stares at his hands atop his desk. The storms raging on in the distance feels like it's pelting Seokjin with harsh rains and he wonders if he's already beginning to crumble. If the rain is weathering him down already. He clenches his hands and he tries to stand back up, tries to stand proud and tall. This isn't who he is; he isn't weak and he isn't easily beat down.

But the storm in the distance is slowly creeping closer to his island and it's only a matter of time that it swallows him up. His fires are burning, still, but this never-ending battering of rain threatens to put his flames out.

He needs to keep them burning until he's sure that Jeongguk and Namjoon are safe. He'll put aside all of his worries and his aches until then.

"By the way," Namjoon edges his voice back in, "you have your follow up at the hospital next week, right?"

Seokjin nods mildly.

"I'll come with you."

"You don't have to-"

"Monday at eleven, right? Try not to be late."

Seokjin waits a total of a minute and a half in his car with the engine on just so that he could keep the heating on before he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his dress pants while he taps his foot incessantly by the pedals.

To: cute assistant
how long u gonna make me wait

To: cute assistant
its been, like, 20 mins

He freely chucks his phone onto the passenger seat and sinks back into his own, knowing that it's only been, like, two minutes since he'd arrived at the street Namjoon lives on. He turns the heating off in his car when he starts to feel stuffy. His phone buzzes.

From: cute assistant
come up pls

Seokjin stares at the message that has come through, and he stares at the name he'd saved for Namjoon on his phone. It's remained unchanged since Namjoon first joined the lawfirm, and Seokjin knows exactly how much Namjoon hates being called his assistant. He licks his lips and he changes it.

To: Joon
okay

He pockets his phone, turns off the engine, and exits his car. He hears the little beep that tells him the car is locked, and once he's satisfied he starts to make his way into Namjoon's apartment. Fixes his cuffs in the elevator going up, and steps out into the hallway. He already knows which door belongs to Namjoon, so he makes his way to it, knocks twice, and waits.

A thin black tie hangs limply around Namjoon's neck, the collars of his dress shirt popped up. "I need help with the cufflinks," he huffs in defeat.

Seokjin takes a few steps into the apartment when Namjoon takes a few steps back to let him in. With one hand he pushes the door shut behind him. And he looks up at Namjoon.

His hair, which he usually styles for work so that it's out of his face but just barely so; like he'd brushed some of it out of his forehead in the morning and pushed it to the side before coming in to work, and he usually looks effortlessly cool and handsome (but then again, when does he not look handsome?) but today, Namjoon has slicked his hair all back.

Seokjin's throat goes a little dry and he quickly looks back down, to Namjoon's cuffs that have yet to be fastened together. He holds his wrists out to Seokjin, and Seokjin swallows like he's trying to deny how nervous he is before he reaches up and takes one of Namjoon's wrists. With overly conscious fingers, he fiddles with Namjoon's cufflinks until they're clasped shut. He moves onto the other wrist. And when he's done, he brings his hands back to himself.

"Thanks," Namjoon says mildly as he inspects his wrists for a brief second before he walks away, heading further into his apartment. Seokjin wanders in after him, following him into Namjoon's bedroom where he stands in front of the mirror attached onto the door of his wardrobe. Seokjin remains at the doorframe, leaning against it.

He watches Namjoon's side profile as he gets to work on his tie. Namjoon angles his chin upwards to get a better view of his neck and décolletage, his eyelids low as he concentrates. Seokjin watches the taut expression in his face; the way his jaw in clenched, lightly. Shadows form behind his dimples. Seokjin curls his fists, tightly.

"Is that okay?" Namjoon mutters lowly as he angles his body towards Seokjin, chin still tipped upwards, trying to draw Seokjin's attention to his tie. Seokjin, however, is finding it difficult not to stare at Namjoon's face.

"Mhm," Seokjin sounds an affirmative even though he hasn't looked at the tie at all. It's probably fine. Whatever. Who's going to care about Namjoon's shitty tie when he looks like that? Not Seokjin, that's for sure.

"Do I look okay?" Namjoon asks, plucking up his suit jacket from the end of his bed after he's smoothed down his collars.

"Yeah," Seokjin mumbles in response as he watches the buttons of Namjoon's dress shirt strain and hold on for dear life in front of his chest when he stretches to shrug his suit jacket on.

"My eyes are up here," Namjoon says flatly, and Seokjin draws in a sharp breath, flicks his eyes up to meet Namjoon's low-lidded and amused eyes. Namjoon laughs at Seokjin.

He walks out of his bedroom, walking past Seokjin who takes a moment to snap himself out of his bewilderment. He makes his way to the front door after collecting his phone, keys and wallet.

"Let's go," he tells Seokjin. Seokjin stutters into gear.

Seokjin feels like he needs a crash course in Driving 101: How to Drive When There's a Hot Guy in the Passenger Seat.

Especially when said Hot Guy glances over at him every time he glances over at him. It makes him a little nervous, and he isn't entirely sure why. He's had Namjoon in his car before, and he sees Namjoon almost every day. And Namjoon is always hot. Even in his company ID card where he was just about to sneeze before the photo was taken and Seokjin didn't let him retake it. Seokjin's pretty sure Namjoon is incapable of looking bad. He should be used to that.

I guess not, he thinks to himself.

The hall where the wedding is taking place is almost full of guests when Seokjin parks his car and enters with Namjoon. There are people standing around, talking, laughing, and Namjoon starts to make his way through the friends and families of the bride and groom, and he quickly locates their colleagues. They greet each other, Seokjin hugs a few of them, and then he leaves Namjoon with them as he makes his way over to one of the waiters that he sees is carrying a serving plate with dainty flutes of champagne balancing atop it. He plucks two of the glasses and smiles at the waitstaff.

He guzzles down the contents of both, dabs at his lips with a napkin, and finds Hanyu. She's chatting with another woman from the lawfirm, but when she sees Seokjin approaching her she excuses herself.

"Hey, Seokjin, you look sharp!"

"I always look sharp," he replies.

"True. You know, I didn't think you were going to come. You said you weren't."

Seokjin sighs. "Namjoon convinced me."

Hanyu laughs, her lips stretching wide as she does, and Seokjin pouts a little. "You'll do anything that Namjoon asks you to do, right?"

"Hey, not tru-"

Hanyu laughs again, and her eyes twinkle as she does. "You've only got eyes for him. Don't deny it."

"I mean. I have eyes for you too. Prettiest girl I've ever seen," Seokjin winks at her in an attempt at being good-natured. Hanyu just laughs and shakes her head.

"You're flirting with the wrong person. Look, Namjoon is looking at you."

She tips her chin towards something behind Seokjin, and he looks over his shoulder to find Namjoon, still with a few of their colleagues, but just as Hanyu had said, he's looking straight at Seokjin.

From across the wedding hall, Namjoon is looking straight at Seokjin. His hair is slicked back and his suit is crisp and he looks absolutely stunning. And for a moment, he doesn't register Namjoon's lifespan. It's like it doesn't exist. All he registers is that they're looking at each other like no one else exists in the hall, like they're the ones who are going to get married. Like they've already told each other the feelings they have for each other, and they've already agreed to spend the rest of their lives together. Seokjin's mouth goes dry and Namjoon begins to smile, the corners of his thick lips curling upwards, slowly, minutely, until someone says something to him and they snatch his attention away. Seokjin swallows and returns his focus to Hanyu.

"I hate weddings," Seokjin huffs.

Hanyu takes a sip from her champagne at that.

Seokjin hangs back a little, almost like he's loitering by the wall. He watches the wedding guests talking and laughing with each other. He watches the bride and the groom. They've just finished their first dance together and are now laughing and chatting with their friends and family. Jugyeong's boyfriend, no– her husband, has a hand at her back as he stays by her side throughout it all. They both look beautiful and happy. And Seokjin feels miserable.

He yawns and decides to just grab a seat at one of the desolate tables at the back that no one else is near, planning to just scroll aimlessly through memes on his phone until the food gets served and he has to reconvene with his colleagues. Until then, however, he'll just continue to be grumpy.

"Hey."

He turns his head towards the voice directed at him, and his lips part in a small dose of surprise when he sees Namjoon walking towards him, two flutes of champagne in his hands and a soft smile on his thick lips. He hands one dainty glass to Seokjin and then shoves that hand into the pocket of his dress pants. He takes a tentative sip and then turns to lean his back against the wall besides Seokjin as they both look on, distally, at the joy and celebration. Seokjin keeps his eyes ahead, as Namjoon does, but he's focusing on anything but. He's hyperaware, now, of Namjoon besides him. Namjoon might still be feeling the joy and celebration of the wedding, but Seokjin feels none of that shit. The beautiful couple laughing and dancing with each other? Seokjin can't imagine ever being in their position. The guests who are happy for them? To hell with it. Seokjin guzzles his champagne down in one go.

"You don't look like you're having fun," Namjoon muses after a moment, his glass of champagne still half full. Seokjin angles his head a little towards Namjoon, only enough to stare at his shoes, but no further than that. "Sorry. I thought maybe this might take your mind off things, but..."

A little sound of indignation leaves Seokjin. "You should go back to mingle with the others, otherwise you won't have any fun either."

Namjoon shuffles a little against the wall but he doesn't show any hints of taking flight. He stays rooted to the spot. "Nah. I'd rather stay here."

"With your batshit-insane superior who hates weddings?"

Seokjin doesn't know what he expected from Namjoon after that left his tongue, but a laugh is far from it. He turns his head to look up at Namjoon and suddenly he's overwhelmed with images and ideas of marrying Namjoon, of standing side by side with him dressed in tuxedos as they are now, with him looking as beautiful, as handsome and as happy as he is now. Seokjin has to tear his gaze away from Namjoon because it's a little bit too much to think of that, to hope for it, when he knows it'll never happen. "Why do you hate weddings so much?" Namjoon asks lightly, taking another nonchalant sip.

He shrugs one shoulder. "It's bullshit. It's a huge celebration you throw all this money towards, just because you decided to spend the rest of your life with someone. So you think you found The One, who gives a shit? Marriages can end. People can cheat. I think all of this is bullshit."

A slight shift in the air between himself and Namjoon tells Seokjin that the taller male is looking down at him, ever so slightly. But Seokjin doesn't return the look. He keeps his eyes on his empty flute of champagne still in his hand. "I guess I'm a romantic, then," Namjoon pipes up airily. "I like the idea of it. The big, grand gesture to the one you love, the declaration to the world. That I'll spend the rest of my life with this person, and we're going to be happy."

Seokjin shakes his head and can't suppress the ugly, cynical laugh that bubbles up his chest, fizzling through his throat, and then onto his lips.

"What, do you not like the idea of committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life?" Namjoon asks curiously.

"If it were possible," Seokjin begins, "then yes. But this country will not accept or celebrate my love, and I will never be married. I will never get to have a wedding. So what's the point? If the man I love wants to commit himself to me, then I will commit myself to him. But no one will give a shit about us, so why should I give a shit about them? Weddings are meaningless. Marriages are useless."

A few moments pass by that Seokjin slowly becomes more and more aware of how Namjoon's staring at him, pointedly and unabashed. He doesn't look back. He knows how he sounds and he knows what's on Namjoon's mind. There's a piece of paper, most likely already shredded and discarded of, in the office where Seokjin had written both his and Namjoon's names down on a marriage contract he'd found on the internet and printed out. He knows. The things he says and does are shit, and there's a lot of it. Seokjin knows how he sounds, now, to Namjoon. Unreliable and full of shit, but what's new? He grows more and more aware of how Namjoon's staring at him, thinking everything Seokjin knows he's thinking, until it starts to tickle his neck and he parts his lips to say something else when Namjoon finally decides to break the silence. "There's someone that you love?"

"Is that your question?" Seokjin asks incredulously, looking up at Namjoon with a questioning cock of his brow.

Namjoon just nods.

Seokjin pulls his gaze away to give himself some time to think up an answer, but Namjoon apparently doesn't have time.

"You do have someone," he deduces flatly. "I didn't know you were in a relationship."

"I'm not," Seokjin coughs, covering his mouth his fist as he tries to angle his body away from Namjoon.

"Then what? You like someone?"

Seokjin presses his lips together like he's trying to show Namjoon that he absolutely will not answer. But that little show of defiance doesn't deter Namjoon at all; no, it spurs him on even more, he pinches Seokjin's side and makes him yelp out in surprise.

"Tell me who it is," Namjoon beseeches before he places his flute of champagne down on the nearest table to pinch Seokjin again and again, his hands moving to tickle while also evading Seokjin's hands that are trying to keep him at bay. Seokjin starts laughing against his will, loudly and ungracefully, at the tingling at his sides from Namjoon's hands. He tries to back away from Namjoon but there's a wall behind him and he has nowhere to go. The tickling slowly ceases when Seokjin gives up trying to fight Namjoon away.

"It's you," Seokjin breathes out when all the laughter and the giddiness drains out of him. Namjoon's hands are still on his sides, skirting lightly over his waist, and the dress shirt and suit jacket do nothing to stifle the way Seokjin feels his hands on his skin. He feels it all. He meets Namjoon's gaze and finds whatever giddiness that was in Namjoon's expression has also fizzled out.

"Me?" he asks in disbelief.

"I don't know why you're surprised," Seokjin starts offhandedly. "I've flirted with you and harassed you for as long as you've worked with me."

"Yeah, but this is different," Namjoon counters, and very slowly, very subtly, he pushes his lower lip out. He lets go of Seokjin's sides and returns to where he was, standing by Seokjin's side with his back to the wall.

"Yeah, I guess this is," Seokjin concedes. "But you better not act weird with me now, because I've said way worse things to you than declaring my love, you bastard. Just pretend this never happened, like you always do."

Namjoon pouts even harder. Seokjin isn't sure if Namjoon knows he's pouting. "I don't want to pretend it didn't happen."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a romantic," Namjoon reasons simply and curtly, and he looks down at Seokjin again. Seokjin swallows down a whole load of nerves and bad feelings and shit to look up and return Namjoon's stare, and he fucking wishes he didn't, because the smile on Namjoon's thick lips and the soft look in his pretty eyes are dangerous, and there's no way Seokjin can let this continue. He has to nip this in the bud before it blooms into what he thinks it'll become. So when Namjoon parts his lips to utter those dangerous words, Seokjin strikes his hand up and clasps Namjoon's mouth. His words are reduced to a confused muffle.

"Don't say a word," Seokjin orders, forcing his voice to come out as level as he can make it. "I know what you're going to say. Don't say it."

His eyes are wide but he presses his lips together under Seokjin's palm, but Seokjin doesn't pull his hand back until he's sure Namjoon isn't going to speak, isn't going to try. He quickly drops his gaze down to Namjoon's shoes before he detaches his hand from Namjoon's mouth. His hand returns, limply, to his side.

Namjoon clears his throat and wordlessly reaches for his flute of champagne and takes a seemingly absent-minded sip. With his other hand he straightens up the lapels of his suit jacket.

"It doesn't matter if people don't give a shit about us or not," Namjoon pipes up after a sore, throbbing moment. His voice is low-pitched once again. "Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"Then what are you so afraid of?"

Seokjin keeps quiet. He's good at that.