Chapter Text
One Year Later
Jimin
The Neptunian airport was crowded and Jimin walked briskly, brogues making little clicking noises on the glass floor.
He pulled his small carry-on behind him, expertly twisting it so that it swerved around families crowding check-ins to return home after the new year, their trolleys full of luggage and their hands full of bickering children. Business people and backpackers roamed in between them, glued to their ansibles and occasionally raising their head to glare at the noise while filling in the rest of the gaps were endless rows of tourists, from babies to the hunched old, all dressed in that t-shirt brocaded with blue swirls that were available in any gift shop on Neptune.
“Hey, I’m going to grab a coffee.” Daniella, the girl who had just worked the same flight as hm, pointed at a café on the side. “Want anything?”
Jimin shook his head smiling. “No, I’m good. Thanks for asking.”
Daniella shrugged. “Your loss,” she said. “When’s your next shift?”
“I don’t know. I have a few days off, so management said they would call.”
“Shit, I wish I was you.” Daniella sighed. “My next one is later this afternoon. They think I’m their bitch or something.”
Jimin winced in sympathy.
Daniella shrugged in a what-can-I do way, then said, “Well, see you.”
She leaned forwards and kissed the air above each side of Jimin’s cheek. Jimin did the same, holding his breath to avoid the saccharine smell of their airline’s powder foundation, and smiled tightly as the other boy walked away.
Automated announcements for boarding and delays sounded across the space, sounds Jimin were so familiar with they now sounded like home. The crown of Daniella’s hair shone faintly fluorescent, radiating a violet and blue halo from the holographic advertisements projected above them. They had given Namjoon violets at the graduation, Jimin suddenly remembered. It was kind of the same colour. That had been nice.
He looked above Daniella’s figure, towards the pressurised windows framing the airport. They presented a panoramic view of the surrounding darkness: clouds of nebulae, drifting space junk, the distant, luminary glow of several moons and millions and millions of stars, all blinking with indifferent laziness. Jimin sniffed and sighed. He rubbed his nose. Then he turned around and started walking towards the front, trying to ignore the burning in his calves as much as possible.
The side Jimin had chosen was supposed to be quieter as the main highway was located in the opposite direction yet a steady stream area of people still entered, exited and milled about. Jimin lifted his head to scan the crowd. A flash of shiny black hair caught his eye and he jumped.
“Kook!” he shouted.
It jerked and spun around to reveal Jungkook, dressed in a button-down and loose, black trousers. “Hey!” he shouted back. He squeezed around a family and ran towards Jimin. Jimin squealed in delight as Jungkook picked him up, strong arms around his waist, and lifted his body against him. Jimin wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s back and pushed his face into his neck, inhaling his familiar smell of soap and cologne.
When Jungkook put him back down, Jimin didn’t let go and took his face in his hands, angling it down so it faced him. One year into college didn’t make Jungkook look too different but still, he had grown just a little. They were small changes, but they were still there; changes Jimin couldn’t detect whenever they video called. Like how his shoulders had become broader. How he stood slightly straighter. How he had put on a tiny bit of weight and that rounded out his face, helped him grow into the nose that was so big when he was younger.
“You look older,” Jimin said in awe, cupping his face.
“I can’t believe you’re wearing makeup,” Jungkook laughed.
Jimin began to say, “I have to,” but he was cut off by Jungkook leaning down to slot their mouths together. Jimin let out a surprised hum but responded eagerly, tipping his head back to deepen the kiss. Jungkook’s lips were soft and smelled of peppermint, like he had just put on lip balm, and his hands cradled the back of Jimin’s head firmly but gently.
Someone in their vicinity whistled. Jimin broke it off, ducking his head in embarrassment and hitting Jungkook’s arm. “We’re in public,” he hissed. He looked around but nobody was watching anymore and Jungkook just smiled, taking both his hand and luggage.
“Let’s go,” he said.
They walked to the parking lot where Jungkook had parked the hired spaceship. Jimin climbed in, buckled his seat belt and tried not to swoon as he watched Jungkook reverse out of the lot, brows furrowed in concentration and sleeves rolled out to display veiny forearms.
“What?” he said, when he noticed Jimin looking.
“Nothing,” Jimin sang.
Still, he looked a little smug as he navigated onto the highway. Among the humming of the ion thrusters as they set out on their path, they talked a little, Jimin complaining about a crying kid on his flight, Jungkook about his latest art assignment, but all of it was old news as they already talked regularly. Jimin turned his head and didn’t hide, this time, the long, sweeping look he took of Jungkook, of all of him. Jungkook’s eyes flickered from the road to him.
“Nothing,” Jimin said to his questioning gaze. He reached out and touched his face again, fingers sweeping the soft bit of skin between his eye and hairline, the small scar below his lower lashes he gained during a game of hide-and-seek when they were young. Jungkook tilted his head so his cheek rested in Jimin’s palm. “Just nice to have you here,” Jimin said. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Jungkook replied. It might’ve sounded a little monotone to somebody who didn’t know him, but Jimin understood the genuineness behind it. He smiled, patting Jungkook’s cheek then reclining to rest against his seat, gazing back out at the multitude of lights that dotted the neon highway as they sped across space.
Jungkook dropped him off at the hotel’s drive-in but didn’t come in. “I need to go pick up their parents,” he explained, leaning out of the open window.
Jimin cooed. “You’re such a gentleman.”
He shrugged, acting all cocky, then the look melted away to one of concern. “Are you sure you’re not too tired for this? I told you to come a day early.”
“They wouldn’t let me off any earlier,” Jimin shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“Big day today."
“It is. I’ll see you later?”
Jungkook reached out with his hand and Jimin stood on his tiptoes so he could reach it, squeezing his fingers before letting go. “Don’t go, bunny boy,” he said. He didn’t mean it to be serious but it kind of was. “I only just saw you again.”
“I’ll be back,” Jungkook promised. “An hour, tops.”
“I love you.”
If it was possible, Jungkook’s doe eyes seemed to blush. His whole face smiled slightly. “I love you too.”
He rolled up his window and drove out, back onto the main highway. Jimin watched his small spaceship disappear until it become a glistening dot amongst all the other lights, then sighed. Patting his hair down, he turned around and located the hotel’s revolving doors, pushing through to enter a marble lobby. He headed straight for the front desk.
“Hi?” he said, as the receptionist looked up. The girl, looking around his age, was wearing two mini hair clasps on each side of her head; they were cute. Jimin rummaged around in his slacks and pulled out a card. “I’m here for a wedding?”
The receptionist took a look at it and let out an, “Ah.” She checked something on her screen. “Yes, the ceremony’s starting in a couple of hours.”
“Oh no,” Jimin said. “I’m actually one of the bridegrooms. I was told I had to go to a certain floor to get ready.”
“Oh, sure,” the receptionist said, surprised. She leaned over to the side and Jimin took the chance to squint at her nametag on her shirt as she pulled out a clipboard. Elaine. “What’s your name?”
“Park Jimin.”
Elaine scanned the list. “Yep, you’re here. Okay, you’re supposed to go to the sixty-second floor.”
“Oh great,” Jimin replied. “Thank you. Do I need a room card or something to go up?”
“Nah,” Elaine said. “That’s a special events level. You should be able to use the lift without any trouble.”
“Okay, thank you so much,” Jimin said again. “Elaine,” he added.
“No problem,” Elaine said.
“Also, um, where’s the lift?”
“Just around the corner, behind the fountain.”
“Oh, alright. Thanks again.”
“No worries.”
Jimin found it and pressed the button for floor number sixty-two. The inside of the lift was a gilded black, with golden lines crisscrossing with apparent parallel and perpendicular randomness. It gave off a rather art deco effect and Jimin was reminded, suddenly, of the wallpaper in Stardust. Oh, Stardust. He hadn’t had pancakes in so long. The thought of the long-gone diner made his heart ache a little. The memories, so many of them today, enveloped him in nostalgia the entire ride up that was both warm and a little distorting, especially when combined with the rushing motion of the lift.
And so, it was with the peculiar feeling of having returned to the past when Jimin finally reached his level. The doors opened and he glimpsed only a long hallway and some paintings on the walls before somebody threw themselves on him with a scream.
Started, Jimin raised his arms to feel some kind of smooth, silky material.
“Tae?” he said quietly.
He was only hugged more tightly and Jimin returned the embrace in silence, simply resting his chin on the other boy’s shoulder. When they finally parted, Jimin seemed to recognise, yet not recognise simultaneously, the person in front of him.
“Jupiters above,” Jimin said. “You look so good, Tae.”
Plans for ansibles were extremely expensive for travellers so the two had usually stuck to audio calls rather than video, and Jimin was shocked to see Tae had changed so much. He had lost his bangs, for instance. His hair was now much shorter, and what used to be his bangs was styled to the side, revealing the forehead that he used to be embarrassed of because he thought it was too big. But Jimi thought it made him look so good; it turned his face sharper and leaner. He had also gained a faint dusting of freckles on the top of his cheeks and several new piercings too, a couple through his helix, and a second set at his lobe. Dressed in a slim suit, with a bowtie and carnation threaded through the button of his jacket lapel, his eyes were bright, his eyelashes finer, and when he smiled, his cheeks seemed to climb higher up on his face.
“Thanks,” he said. “The haircut wasn’t intentional. I got lice on Earth and they just shaved it off.”
“Oh yeah, you mentioned that.”
“Yeah, funny place. They’re pretty primitive there.”
“Well, it looks good.”
“You look good too,” Taehyung offered.
Jimin scoffed. “Don’t try to flatter me,” he said. “I look boring.”
“No, you do,” Taehyung insisted. “You look sharp.” He touched Jimin’s slicked back hair and cheek. “Older. Are you wearing makeup?”
Jimin nodded. “Yeah. It’s part of uniform.”
“It looks good.”
“I hate it.”
Taehyung shrugged. “We all have stuff we hate.”
“That’s true.”
“Just you wait until you see the stuff the makeup artist has laid out,” Taehyung said, starting to pull Jimin along the hallway. “You might go into cardiac arrest.”
“Where’s Jin?” Jimin asked, looking at the closed doors they were passing.
“In his own room. You know how he is. Won’t let anyone see him except his dresser until the actual thing starts.”
Taehyung took Jimin to a smaller room where a slender girl was lounging around on her ansible. She stood up as Jimin and Taehyung entered, hands smoothing down her lilac dress with an empire waist. Jimin saw a suit laid out on the hotel bed, presumably for himself.
“Jimin, Tasha,” Taehyung said, gesturing between the two. “Tasha, Jimin. She’s Namjoon’s younger sister,” he explained just to Jimin. “The maid of honour.”
“Oh, nice to meet you,” Jimin said warmly. He reached out his hand and Tasha shook it, fingers soft and grip loose.
“Nice to meet you too,” she replied with a shy smile.
“Don’t mind us,” Taehyung said to him. “I’m going to help Jimin get changed. Do you want to check if the makeup artist is ready?”
Tasha nodded, looking grateful for an opportunity to leave, and hurried out the door. Jimin kicked his brogues off and stripped his shirt and slacks to change into the suit. Taehyung helped him tug at it in places to get it to sit right and slip the carnation in.
“Not bad,” Taehyung mused, looking Jimin up and down, “considering that we never had fittings.”
Tasha stuck her head in with the news that the artist was ready. Taehyung told her to go first while he did Jimin’s hair and the younger girl nodded, disappearing down to another room where the woman had supposedly set up. Jimin sat in one of the hotel’s upholstered chairs in front of the mirror while Taehyung plugged the hair straightener in and turned it on. Talking idly and feeling Taehyung’s fingers running through his hair was so soothing that Jimin started to feel drowsy.
“Where did you learn to style hair this good?” he asked through half-open eyes.
Taehyung’s reply sounded distant, like he was from a dream. “Remember that hairdressing stint I had on Venus? They let me do styling sometimes.”
“You never mentioned that,” Jimin murmured.
“I forgot,” Taehyung replied. “Hey. Wake up.”
He snapped his fingers in front of Jimin’s face and Jimin jerked back.
“Time for makeup, sleeping beauty.”
Taehyung let him admire his bangs for a moment, all fluffy and peeled, before dragging him bare-foot off to a room further down the hallway where Jimin sat, actually falling asleep for a few minutes in front of a great display of palettes and brushes, as Lydia, the blonde makeup artist, puttered around him and dabbed more stuff onto his face. Taehyung went next as Jimin continued power-napping on another chair in the room. Lydia was nearly finished with him when Tasha came back.
“Jin wants to see you guys,” she chirped from the doorway.
Jimin looked up, opening his eyes, as Taehyung said, “I thought he didn’t want to see anyone?”
“That’s what I thought but he said you guys are different.”
Jimin met Taehyung’s eyes and the other boy shrugged. “Okay,” Taehyung said. “Tell him we’ll be there in five.”
Tasha nodded and trotted off. Jimin waited a few more minutes as Taehyung’s make-up was finished. He didn’t look too different like Jimin, but just stronger. Himself but better. Jin did a good job in hiring the right makeup artist. They both thanked Lydia as they left, who just waved them out with a, “Have fun!”
The room Jin was in the suite of the floor and it was in the massive bathroom they found him, analysing his flawless face under the lights. He spotted them through the mirror, then turned around with a gasp.
“Jin!” Jimin shouted and launched himself at the older boy. Jin wrapped his arms around Jimin and pulled him close, hugging him as hard as Jimin was hugging him. He smelled flowery, probably from some kind of perfume, but his touch was the same.
“Hey, be careful,” Taehyung said, pulling Jimin back. “Don’t mess up his hair and makeup.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” Jin said. He flung open his arms. “Come here, you brat.”
Taehyung grinned, abandoning the mature pretence, and jumped into the group hug.
“Thanks for coming, both of you,” Jin said when they separated.
“Of course,” Jimin said. “You look beautiful.”
Jin was wearing Jimin’s dream wedding suit: black, sharp and satin-y, with a thin tie. His hair was swept up and he looked more perfect than he usually did.
“No, you guys do,” Jin said, looking over them both. “You seem to have grown up so much in just a year. Both of you.”
“Aw, and you look even younger,” Jimin said. “I’m jealous.”
Jin waved a hand. “It’s the makeup.” He pressed his face close to Jimin’s. “Tell me the truth: can you see a pore?”
Jimin laughed and pushed the older boy anyway, before relenting and examining his face. They hung around for a little, just catching up. Jin talked about the new place he had with Namjoon on Neptune. Jimin knew they had moved from Proteus last year, leaving behind their beloved little moon with all its blue dunes for the big city, after Namjoon got a job at an aircraft manufacturing company and Jin had managed to transfer hospitals to stay with him.
“We still have a balcony,” he said. “I’ve been trying to grow chives but Francis keeps on eating them.”
“Well, that’s good,” Taehyung said, trying to sound encouraging. “That’s nutrition.”
“I wish he wouldn’t. It gives him indigestion and his farts stink to Jupiter and back.”
They were kicked out by Lydia who had come in to do a final check on Jin’s makeup. Taehung tugged Jimin on the elbow, telling him it was time to go downstairs, and Jimin squeezed in a last wave before Lydia shut the door. It was a brief chat but Jimin was so glad for that private moment with Jin. It wasn’t like he was anxious before but he did feel better now, knowing that Jin still thought they were close enough to be special, that they hadn’t just become another little brother amongst the many the oldest boy had in his foster home. Maybe it was selfish of him but Jimin liked it.
He and Taehyung took a lift down to the function room where the wedding was to occur. Jimin’s eyes took in everything slowly, like the way somebody let a piece of chocolate melt on their tongue. The layout was pretty simple, with a white carpet rolled onto the aisle where Jin would walk down towards a white chiffon arch, and several rows of Victorian style chairs were arranged on either side of it. A separate room contained circular tables decorated with a vases of forsythia branches, heavy with golden blossoms, while hanging everywhere was a heavy, fragrant canopy of lavender and violet wisteria blossoms.
“Wow,” Jimin breathed, reaching his arm up and stretching his fingers against the flowers as if he was going to touch it. “This is beautiful. I always thought they would go for something much simpler.”
Taehyung shrugged, looking indifferent to the ornamentation. “Apparently Yale works in the wedding décor industry now. He gives them huge discounts and shit.” He checked the clock on the wall. “Where are the others? They’re meant to be here by now.”
“The guests?” Jimin asked. There wasn’t a lot of people here yet, except for some catering staff hurrying between the rooms. Taehyung had told him to come early in case they needed longer to get ready.
“No, dummy,” Taehyung replied. “The rest of the guys.”
“Oh,” Jimin said. His heart felt fizzy, like a soft drink. This was actually happening. They were actually going to get together again. He hadn’t seen them all together in so long. He felt excited, but also strangely nervous.
He and Taehyung wandered around a bit, occasionally stopping to adjust a slanted fork or protruding flower, when suddenly there was a shout from the door. Taehyung spun around.
“Hobi!” he screamed.
He ran forwards and jumped into his arms. The red-haired boy hugged Taehyung back, looking exactly the same with his toothy grin and bouncy hair. Yoongi strolled in after him, back straight and dark eyes alert, whilst Jungkook brought up the rear, looking relaxed with his hands in his trouser pockets. All three were wearing slim, black suits with bowties and lilac carnations identical to the ones Jimin and Taehyung were.
“It’s so good to see you guys,” Jimin gushed as he reached forwards to give Yoongi and Hoseok both a hug. “I haven’t seen you guys in forever!”
Jungkook held his arms out and Jimin, rolling his eyes, gave him a punch on the arm instead. Jungkook pouted, rubbing the spot.
“I still can’t believe you two are together,” Hoseok said, shaking his head. He turned to Taehyung. “That just leaves you, then.”
Jimin gasped and hit him too. “That’s so mean!”
But Taehyung was grinning. “Fuck you,” he said. “I brought someone hot.”
Jimin turned to gape at his best friend. “What? Who? Is it Olivia?”
“She’s coming later,” Taehyung said.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Yoongi asked curiously.
“Not yet,” Taehyung said with certain relish.
“Wow,” Jungkook said, looking at him with something like reverence. “Good for you.”
“Yeah, it is,” Taehyung agreed.
Jimin hadn’t been so good at keeping in touch with Hoseok and Yoongi like he had been with Taehyung and Jungkook but he wasn’t surprised to learn that the two were still on Triton. Yoongi was starting his second year in his diatetics degree and Hoseok was working as an intergalactic Uber driver using his spaceship.
“I’m trying to save up,” he explained. “Lately, I’ve been thinking of creating a business. I want to build an arcade.”
“Wow,” Jimin said. “Like for kids?”
“Uh-huh. I was thinking I could set it up and maintain all the machines myself.”
The image of Hoseok grinning and giving high-fives to little kids in a crazy, neon-coloured room, with old hits pumping from background speakers came easily to Jimin’s mind. Hoseok had always had that kind of crazy energy and the idea of him running an arcade suited him.
“I think you can do it,” Jimin said. “You’re so good with people.”
“Thanks,” Hoseok said. “Yoongi thinks so too. I just need to see how big of a loan I’m comfortable taking out, though.”
“That’s true,” Jimin agreed.
They met Jin and Namjoon’s families, Namjoon’s parents both quiet and content, Jin’s large and noisy, young children chasing each other between the tables and awkward teenagers haunting the corners. Jin’s two, jovial parents, along with Namjoon’s, greeted everyone, then started talking loudly about the kinds of grandchildren they wanted while Jimin and the rest of the group smiled uncomfortably, aware that it would be a long time before Jin wanted kids.
All the other guests started to arrive soon after. Sage and Yale came together, whilst Cheryl, dressed in a pretty red dress shaped like a bauble, arrived with her tall boyfriend. Jin and Namjoon also invited a few other people from their respective workplaces, as well as some old friends from university. Jimin met Taehyung’s date Olivia in person, a soft-looking girl wearing large, clear glasses who seemed so serious until Taehyung pinched her and she delivered a swift smack of retaliation to his butt. They giggled, looking at each other and Jimin felt this pang in his chest. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Maybe it was after meeting all of these new people and realising, truly, that everybody had moved on. It was a lost feeling, a melancholy yearning for a time in the past that would never return, a time when he was the closest to Taehyung, when all they had were each other, when their group was their group and nobody else’s. But that was such a selfish feeling so Jimin tried to ignore it. He focused on the brighter side instead, the gratitude and relief that his friends were doing okay without him and that they seemed happy. That was going to have to be enough. They might not be together forever but Jimin was so grateful for what he had now that he wasn’t scared of the future anymore.
Soon, after everybody was told to take a seat, it was time for the procession. Namjoon came out, face a little shiny and stood at the altar. Jimin lined up with Taehyung and Tasha on his left, with Hoseok, Yoongi and Jungkook on the other side. Namjoon was followed by a man with grey eyes who seemed to be officiating the wedding. Next to him, Jimin felt Taehyung stiffen and across him, saw Hoseok do the same.
“Who’s that?” Taehyung whispered to Jimin. The taller boy shuffled back so he was hidden from the man’s view. Jimin shrugged, perplexed by his alarm.
Tasha piped up from his right. “He’s Carl. Apparently, Dr Pilgrim, this professor at Namjoon’s old university recommended him since he got ordained recently.”
“Oh, is that so?” Jimin glanced at the man and, except for his blank face, saw nothing really out of the ordinary. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Taehyung muttered. “Please stop talking to me.”
“Jeez, fine,” Jimin said, rolling his eyes. “Stop being such a Jumpy Jenny then.”
Namjoon had his hands clasped and was rolling back and forth on his feet.
“Quit it,” Hoseok hissed at him and Namjoon froze.
“Sorry,” he muttered. Jimin was kind of worried about him; he looked like he was going to throw up.
The string quartet in the corner started playing and everybody in their seats stood up to stare as Jin entered with his mother. A collective hush fell down he made his way down, clutching a bouquet of violets. He didn’t float. He wasn’t something unearthly or divine. But he was beautiful and, as Jimin watched his radiant figure approach, he felt something settle in his heart, something pure and simple. Jin was biting his lip like he was trying not to burst into laughter. He was looking at Namjoon like they were in on the same joke. Namjoon, on the other hand, was just staring wide-eyed at Jin but Jimin wasn’t sure if he was entranced or still trying not to throw up.
Jin reached the altar and Namjoon reached out. Jimin could see that his hand was shaking a little but stopped when Jin, after kissing his mother on the cheek, laced his fingers through his. Jin steadied him, he always had. Namjoon smiled at him and Jimin thought he looked less queasy. Calmer. They turned and faced Carl.
“Everybody, please be seated,” he said. “We’re all here today to celebrate the relationship of Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon and to be witnesses to the union of their love.”
Jimin hated it but he really was tired and couldn’t help zoning out a little as Carl went on with the usual, traditional script. It was only near the end when something he said caught Jimin’s attention.
“I believe,” the man said, “That love isn’t enough to keep a relationship together.”
Jimin’s head perked up a little. It must’ve been Jin or Namjoon, or both, who asked him to put it in. It was the kind of thing they liked, they believed in, and Jimin found himself listening closely as Carl continued, even nodding slightly.
“In order to live a fulfilled life in this world, you have to be two things. Firstly, you have to be your own person. Secondly, you have to be your loved one’s person. You cannot take care of one if you don’t take care of the other. You need to learn how to be both. And that’s what I believe marriage is.”
He turned to Jin.
“Do you take Kim Namjoon to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forwards, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, do death do you part?”
“I do,” Jin said.
Carl repeated the same words to Namjoon, who answered similarly, “I do.”
“Any last words you wish to say to each other?”
Jin and Namjoon looked at each other. Namjoon gave a comic, little shrug, mouthing What do I do?
To everybody’s shock, Jin reached forwards and grabbed his tie. “You stupid oaf,” he said. “I love you so much.” He turned to Carl. “Can we get married now or what?”
Carl nodded. “I now pronounce you husbands.”
Jin pulled Namjoon towards him and kissed him, looping his arms behind his neck. Namjoon responded whole-heartedly, lifting Jin off his toes. Everybody clapped, Hoseok using a hand to whistle and Taehyung hooting loudly. They took some photos, firstly with each of Jin and Namjoon’s respective families, then a huge one with every invited guest, then finally, one that was just them.
Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, Hoseok and Yoongi crowded around Jin and Namjoon. Jimin stared straight into the camera, trying to convey the happiness he couldn’t even begin to describe. It felt like, for a brief moment, they were all together again. Jimin wasn’t going to cry, though, but Jin looked like he was about to when they were done.
“Thank you for coming, guys,” he kept on saying. “Thank you for coming.”
“No worries,” Jimin said. “We’re so happy for you.”
The recession was brief, ending with Jin and Namjoon heading out to sign their papers at the small table set up specifically for registration. All the other guests got up, stretched and headed slowly to the banquet room for the celebratory dinner whilst chatting amongst themselves. Jimin was in the middle of telling Yoongi how his mother had just finished her last round of chemo and they were cautiously optimistic when Jin and Namjoon re-entered, to the cheers of everybody.
Namjoon tried to open the first bottle of champagne but ended up slipping and falling to the floor on his butt. Jin had to take the bottle from him, rolling his eyes while Taehyung almost pissed himself laughing. Finally, the cork popped and the first glasses were filled. After the waiters quickly took care of the rest, the couple continued standing at the front as Tasha did a quiet, yet heart-felt toast. Hoseok went next. His speech was simple yet Jimin could tell he meant every word and had put a lot of effort into it.
“I’ve known these two people forever,” he said. “We were, we are, part of a very special group of friends.” Here, he stopped to smile down at Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook, all sitting at the same table. “I will never forget these friends. They helped me work out who I am. I am so happy to know that two of them have agreed to stay together even if the rest of us might drift apart. Jin and Namjon have been like a second home to me and I am sure everyone else in our group feels the same.” He raised his glass and Jimin did the same, feeling his eyes grow wet despite himself, all this emotion high up in his throat. “And no matter what happens in the future,” Hoseok said, “I hope you remember how happy you are and how much you loved each other in this moment. Cheers!”
Jimin wiped his eyes and drank. Opposite him, Yoongi caught his eye.
“You good?” he mouthed.
Jimin had a flashback to a beach, to crystal waves, to uncertainty and fear. Under the table, he felt Jungkook clasp one of his hands and Taehyung looking at him from the corner of his eye.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. This time, he meant it.