YOONGI
Our house was a crime scene that night.
The police showed up twenty minutes after receiving a distress call about a home intruder, and they questioned both Jimin and I for a few hours before leaving as quickly as they came. They didn't ask if we knew Young-sang, because we didn't tell them anything. We simply told them the events that played out, leaving out some parts for their imaginations.
There isn't much that I regret, but I will spend every second for the rest of my life making up for the trauma Jimin had to go through all on my behalf. It took me watching a gun being pointed at his head to realize my mistakes of trying to kill blindly. That my anger made me incapable of thinking logically, and as a result, almost cost me the everything that mattered.
And while I know I don't deserve it, I thank the stars that my lover was just broken enough from his own issues to forgive me so easily. Maybe that makes me sound like a selfish man, but I am just that: a man. As it is, I like to think I've spent the last year making it up to him for the mistakes I've made, even if they do still haunt my dreams.
After just a year of looking back, I've started to see the world through sharper lens.
He's given me everything. I have his beautiful smile I get to wake up to every morning, and I have the honor of making music that he hums to himself when he's in the library at work. And when I'm with Jimin, I leave everything else behind. He consumes me now just as he did the day he walked into my classroom.
He sighs, the winds lifting up his black hair under his beanie as he snuggles up in the lemon-yellow blanket, his favorite. We sit together on a picnic blanket overlooking the Cliffs of Moher, a road trip idea both of us were desperate for after being cooped up at home. I drove with the windows down, and the smile on his face as he took in the green hills was something worth living for.
My eyes glance down at his fingers twirling over his new necklace: a silver ring with intertwined knots hooked to a chain; symbolizing never-ending love.
"Yoongi, it's so beautiful," he says.
I bury my nose into the crook of his neck, wrapping my arm around his waist and pulling him to me just as I did earlier today, making sure he can feel every inch of me. I want him to know I'm here, always and forever. Only for him.
When I lean in to give a kiss, he looks up at me and smiles, lifting a finger in the air. "Hold on, I have something to show you."
He crawls out of my hold, heading back to the car where he rummages in the backpack he takes everywhere with him. I stay there and watch him, smiling when he comes back with a slightly worn notebook in his hands.
"What's this?" I ask. "Diary entries?"
He giggles and leans into me, flipping through the pages. "It's something I worked on back in Daegu. Here."
Curious, I take the notebook. My stomach flips in response to seeing myself, or rather, a drawing of myself, staring back. The details are nearly perfect, with the pencil outline being smudged from traveling. Reaching to him, I pull him in an embrace. "Did you draw this?"
He meets my gaze and nods, his cheeks flushing, and I forget how much I love the way he still turns so pink for me after all this time.
"There's that, and quotes you said. It was everything I liked about you." He chuckles to himself, a distant memory clouding his eyes. "After I realized how much I liked you, the most common sentences out of me were lies. But I didn't care because I knew this was what I wanted— even if it ran against the entire world."
I sigh, grasping his chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilting his face up to my eyes. "Do you know how much control it took for me to not take you for myself on the first day we met?" I rasp, leaning forward to press kisses to his lips. "It was torturous."
His expression softens and he caresses my cheek so delicately, it feels like I'm being touched by an angel— which would not surprise me if that was actually happening to me.
"I love you," he says.
"Happy anniversary," I say.
JIMIN
I don't regret what I've done. Killing Young-sang, dating my professor, running away to be with said professor. If I had to do it all over, we'd still be where we are today.
I know now that I'm definitely going to Hell, at least that's what I've got the impression of. And I've come to terms with the fact that my soul is now stained in red. A heavy mark, but one that I will wear with pride.
Yoongi comforts me on the nights I wake up screaming, and though it's something I will eventually grow out of, I'd sacrifice my soul a thousand times over in order to stay with him.
After our picnic on the cliffs wraps up, we settle back into the car, Yoongi's arms wrapping around my shoulders and dragging me as close as he can to his side. He tangles his fingers with mine, bringing them up and kissing every knuckle. "Did you have a good time, baby?"
"It was like a dream."
He leans in, pressing his lips to my ear. "We can do anything else you like. Just say the word, and we can go anywhere your heart wants."
"Okay," I grin, turning toward him. "I'm ready to go back home. I have something else to show you in the bedroom when we get back."
He smirks, his fingers trailing down my shirt and dipping in between my thighs. "Sounds enticing. Perhaps I can show you my appreciation first."
"I'd like that very—" My voice cuts off as he leans in, unzipping me and slipping a hand along my already hard length. My fingers reach down, gripping his arm, my hips arching at the sudden cold touch.
My heart rate speeds as I look out the window. There's tourists, but none that are close enough, and the windows are tinted, so I'm sure no one can see. Still, the thought of someone hearing us is enough to make my stomach coil.
Yoongi's hand strokes me from root to tip, my balls tensing as he looks at me like he's desperate to have all of me, drawing a long moan from my mouth.
He sucks in a sharp breath in response, continuing the rhythm of his fingers, my entire body seizing up as precum drips from my cock.
"Yoongi," I mewl, my head tilting up in pleasure.
"That's right, baby," he murmurs in between strokes. "You've been a very good boy today. You know that?"
I inhale to answer, then bite down on my lip to keep from coming. The sound of skin slapping is loud, and the smell of sex permeates the car.
"Such a perfect boy," Yoongi coos. His other hand finds the center of my chest, then with a lazy finger, traces up to my collarbone, long and slow motions.
My head falls to the side, and I open my mouth on a gasp, and then I can't stop. I come hard, my balls spasming as I pump his hand full of me.
My ears ring as I catch my breath, and after a few moments, I roll my neck back to face him. I watch in a daze as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking two fingers before reaching out for my lips. I open my mouth, feeling the taste of both him and myself on my tongue.
"Is that all the appreciation you have for me?" I ask coyly.
He grins, a wicked gleam coasting along his eyes, and I peck his lips. Before I can pull away, his hand is at the nape of my neck, dragging me back in, his tongue slipping between my lips and kissing me until I lose my breath. My cock twitches up, begging for more. I'm always needy with him.
Yoongi's eyes darken as he applies the perfect amount of pleasure against my windpipe. His other hand glides down my body, lighting up my insides with sparks, his touch like gasoline that lights me up from the inside.
His grasp tightens on my neck at the same moment he runs a soft finger along the edge of my bottom lip. "There's so much I need to say," his voice hoarse.
"Then tell me, professor," I rasp.
As soon as the words leave me, his grasp increases. My head grows light as my lungs beg for air, my mind screaming at me to relieve the pressure. My hand flies up, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the veins of his hands tensing under my palm.
When he releases me, he rests his forehead against mine, and he rolls it slowly back and forth. Satisfaction courses through me and burrows deep inside my chest, warm and fluffy and everything good. He moves, interlocking our fingers and using his free hand to start the car and drive off.
"Thank you," I murmur.
"For what?" he replies.
I smirk, warmth expanding in my chest. "For. . . well. . . you know."
He smiles and takes my hand, soft and gentle. "I know."