***UNEDITED***

You have no fears when you have little to lose. You develop them when you gain more and more. When you begin to have things to care about. When you start to feel accomplished. You start feeling scared of loss when you have things to cherish, loved ones to protect.

And Taehyung figured out how many things he would lose. It wouldn't be a loss of money. He strived as much as he could from his old man. It wouldn't be the name because his name was attached to yours instead of the other way around. Nor would it be the freedom, the power, or any of the other trivialities he had come to cherish. He was about to lose you. You, his wealth and the source of his strength. His reason for forlorn smiles and bashful grins. He was about to lose you, his wife. And it was all on him, the result of a selfless choice and a lack of better options.

It would be hard to wake up in a house so cold, surrounded by professionally trained people with ethical but fake smiles justified by delivering a good employee-to-boss relationship. It would be hard not to see you sitting on the porch with a coffee mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other, gazing at the distant horizon and indulging in thoughts he'd like to be part of. It would be hard not to smell your scent floating in the air particles around a place that would contain no trace of you. He wished you would come to his new house one day. He would offer you a cup of coffee, would offer to light your cigarette for you, using the proximity as an excuse to look in the depth of your eyes and replenish on the scent of jasmine and sweet white musk. He wondered if you would invite him over, too, figured that you would want nothing more to do with him when it was all over. Because why would you? You failed to feel connected to him after everything you've been through. The bad and the good. You didn't even dignify a moment of physical bonding and the exchange of confessions spoken with touches, looks, and heavy breathing.

Yeah, you might say a final goodbye in front of the courthouse and show him your back, he reckoned.

See, it's these types of thoughts that killed him from within. They replaced the taste of victory with sorrow and made him weep over a spoiled recipe. It was salty from the tears, which he suppressed as best he could, but they met his lips nonetheless. It was sour from the overwhelming taste of loss, which he found very ironic. Loss amid fucking victory. What a fucked up life.

But even though Taehyung thought about the possibilities and potential scenarios of a future without you and how bleak it would look, he never thought about a response from you that wasn't a signed document. As a matter of fact, he didn't expect to hear such a firm no, nor did he think that he'd see you opposing the idea of divorce to the extent of standing in front of him, tall and mighty, threatening with a voice you wished would come across as potent, but the muffled agony peaked through it despite your efforts.

"What do you mean, doctor?"

Taehyung got up from the sofa and walked towards you with hesitant steps. It seemed like he was afraid— - afraid of the answer to a question he'd asked, afraid of a person he loved, afraid that his heartbeat might be loud enough for you to hear, afraid that it would confess again and lead him into a loop of rejection and despair. He ran a hand through his hair. Looked at you after the sigh he expelled, which had forced him to close his eyes for a second, with a focused gaze and a frown marring his eyebrows, and you avoided that gaze for a second. Just a second. Because lately, you've realized how much you loved his eyes. How expressive they were. How cold and yet so warm, like a caressing spring breeze. You didn't want to take your eyes off that jaw, which tightened so much that it looked sharper than a blade. You couldn't stop your eyes from disobeying your brain's commands and traveling straight to his lips, which he bit as he waited for an answer that you were still working out with your heart and mind, though the latter couldn't focus.

"It means exactly what I said." But you spoke at the end; you just didn't clarify again. And when he looked even more confused than before, you decided to say more and wait for the courage to help you do more, too. "I don't want us to get divorced, Taehyung. I don't want you to call me doctor, either. I have a name, and I want you to say it. I don't want us to live together like strangers. I don't want us to sleep in different rooms and avoid each other like the plague because we're not strangers, Taehyung. Strangers don't make love to each other. They don't fuck like they mean it. They don't look into each other's eyes like they're promising each other eternity. And no! I haven't forgotten a second. I haven't forgotten a detail, and I don't want to forget. Because it wasn't a fleeting moment with a stranger; it wasn't a drunken decision made in the heat of the moment. It was a confession of love from a woman to her husband."

You ran out of breath. You ran out of courage too, but that's a story for another time. For later. Eyes were watery, but the pride of a woman who wasn't sure if her feelings would be reciprocated didn't let them shine through. Stature remained erect. Eye contact was maintained. The silence was brutal. Abrasive. It was long and cold, like winter. You didn't like winter. You preferred summer and the warm breeze. You loved how serene people looked in that period of the year. In winter, they looked depressed. Taehyung stayed still, just like the air, which you found motionless. It was torture. You wished he would say something, anything, even if it was just a stupid "I'm sorry, I don't feel the same way" You would deal with rejection if it were voiced. It would give you closure. You reckoned it would be better than uncertainty and hopeless reverie.

But if you dared to speak, Taehyung didn't. He had forgotten the vocabulary and every synonym. His voice betrayed him and became mute. But he had the courage to do what you couldn't but wished you were brave enough to do. It's a completion of one other if you look at it in the right light. He was a doer but less of an expressive type, and you were confident with words but hesitant with actions. So when you had done your part, he decided it was time to do his.

The steps he took towards you weren't as hesitant as the ones he'd taken before. They were calculated. Determined. Unambiguous. And he didn't stop until your space was fully conquered by his cologne, his breath, and the warmth of his body. It was dangerous. It made your heart skip a beat when he looked into your eyes for less than a second, pulled your body against him, let his hands spread tales of vicinity on your waist, and captured your lips to claim them for his own.

That was not enough. No, it wasn't. He wanted more, so he deepened the kiss. He had a lot to say, so he used his tongue. Reckoned that the taste of your mouth would ground him, would pull him back to earth as he hovered in space. His hand caressed your jaw, and his fingers settled three on your cheek and two behind your ear at the same time your hand rested on the back of his neck, and fingers down the length of the midnight curls.

It was consuming — beautiful, passionate, a reconciliation, a reunion of two hearts and two souls. There was beauty in the speed with which your lips moved against each other. There was hunger. There was a need to express words that failed to come out. It was as if each of you had something to say but couldn't wait for the other to finish. Taehyung kissed you differently tonight. He kissed you with relief instead of intent. He kissed you with the taste of belonging on the tip of his tongue, and you raved about that taste. You realized that was your favorite flavor, so you kissed him with the taste of "I love you" on the tip of your tongue, and he realized nothing tasted better than that.

He loved the taste so much that he decided it shouldn't just stay in your mouth. It should be spoken. Out loud. "I love you, Yunjae. Don't ask me when it started or how, because I really don't know. All I know is that I love you and I can't imagine my life without you. I don't want a life if it's without you, Yunjae."

And you let the tears flow from your eyes as you rested your forehead against his. You laughed too. Giggled for the sake of accuracy of description. You let out a sigh and so did he when you made your voice audible.

"I love you too, Taehyung."

And the loss became void. Uniexisting. Life, on the other hand, became complete. Fulfilled. The chessboard had been put back in order after a game had moved the black and white pieces all over the place and taken many of them out until it was empty. Now, the queen and king found their rightful place next to each other. They formed a fortress bound to be protected. They sat there beautifully, and Taehyung promised not to move any more pieces because he liked how each piece was rearranged.

The embrace he wrapped you in was tender yet strong enough to perceive protection. It was a welcoming gesture - a subtle way to announce you his with your accord and not by the coercion of an unyielding society. You adored it. It made you set a date and time for the moment you fell in love. You didn't know when your heart had started beating for him either, but you liked the idea of getting a second chance to commemorate the moment. "It was so hectic that we didn't even realize how our feelings for each other had grown, but if this could make up for it, let's consider this moment, this time, this date as the day I fell in love with you, husband."

Taehyung broke the embrace, looked you in the eyes with a glazed look, and sighed again because it seemed to be the only thing he could do: "Fate is sealed the moment we are born. It doesn't set times when it's folded. Considering how we met and all we've been through and how our hearts chose each other against all odds, I think our story began long before we met. It started when we were born when we didn't know each other yet. It began when you, out of all the doctors in this country, came to the cabin; it began when you, out of all the women in this world, were chosen to be my wife. And believe me, I have never loved my fate more than I do now."

Tears. They were your sole rejoin. Your silent words.

He clasped your hand, gave you a smile that you decided was the most beautiful you'd ever seen, and led you up the stairs. You followed him, no questions asked, until he stopped in front of a room that was neither yours nor his. His hand turned the doorknob, and you looked at him curiously. He smiled, all so genuine and warm that you wished you could experience every second of your life. You wished your lifespan was long enough to store this sight in your heart every time it appears. You thought it would be a balm to the deceptions of the people you were connected to by blood and name.

When the door opened, a bedroom came into view. It was plain; pastel colors and white made it seem inviting. Soothing. You stepped inside, taking in every detail and touching each object with a feather-light caress. But when you reached the vanity, you paused. On the surface were brands of skincare and perfume that you used, but they weren't yours because yours were in your room, which was down the hall. You looked at him and saw a hint of a smile on his features, emanating from his eyes before it could reach his lips. You didn't ask any questions, though you were curious enough to start an inquiry. You directed your gaze to the bookshelves on the far right of the room. Slowly, you walked there and when you saw how carefully he sorted the shelves, using the top shelves for your medical books and the bottom shelves for your beloved novels, your questions were no longer out of curiosity. They were out of fascination. "What is all this, Taehyung? What is this room for?"

You were still looking at the library with your back to him, so he made use of this position to give you a back hug he always dreamed of experiencing with you. His chin was above your head, and he was glad this position allowed him to breathe in the scent of your hair. He reveled in it. Figured this position, this innocent embrace, was something he could fight for anything in the world never to lose. "Our bedroom. A place free of tarnished memories. You said you wanted us to share the same room. I want that, too. I've always dreamed of it, to be honest. I've never forgiven myself for defiling our marital room out of petty revenge. So I made this room and wished that one day you would let me in. I wished that one day, we would create memories in this room that weren't stained with hatred, infidelity, and all that toxicity. No matter how much I apologize, it won't be enough. I shouldn't have brought another woman to your bed. I shouldn't have made you live that kind of situation."

You turned to him, your eyes glistening and your breathing heavy. You didn't know why you felt a tinge of sadness that was out of place. Maybe it was the time you needed to figure out your feelings. Maybe it was the selfishness you drowned him with to get back at life and the cards it had dealt you. Maybe it was the darkness that coated your eyes in black and blinded you to all he had done for you while you outstretched yourself to destroy him. Maybe it was a combination of all of the above. Not sure. "But I had a feeling we'd never share it, so as I added one piece every night during your absence, I figured it might be a farewell gift to congratulate you on your freedom."

And the tears that had once dried up fell. They flowed in torrents. He wiped them away with his lips. He kissed away the pain. He erased the guilt with a hug that felt warm enough to melt the ice of a past full of complications and bad intentions. Taehyung was no saint. He had his share of sins that he promised to make up for with every breath until the last one escaped his lungs. He did not utter this promise. He thought of it as a wish he made before he blew out the candle on the cake. Wishes come true when they are kept secret between the wisher and the universe. His mother's words on every birthday she celebrated with him before the same universe took her away from him.

You stroked his cheeks, tiptoed to kiss the tip of his nose, and looked into his eyes to show the sincerity of your words: "But there would be no farewell. Not now. Not ever." And you sealed the promise with a stamp on his lips. It was pure. Innocent. Amorous.

"Not now," he repeated your words with the same sentiment. His thumb caressed your lips as his hand rested on the back of your neck. His eyes conveyed his feelings, which he was finally able to put into words. They were sincere. They held a joy you never saw in them, and you liked that and made a secret wish of your own as you basked in them: You would protect that happiness even if your lifespan came to an end. You would become his guardian star. You would watch over him from above. "Not ever, Yunjae."