It’s hot. Too hot for this time of year. You puff as you shake off your jacket and drape it over the first available chair you see. The room is buzzing with chatter and clattering of glasses and plates, filled with wine and appetizers respectively. A faint aircon breeze touches your cheeks and wraps around your now bare arms, and you crane your neck to scan the crowd for Namjoon.

The youth house you both volunteer at is having its annual Appreciation Party and as much as you love spending time there, you’re in a bit of hurry today. You plan on hanging around Namjoon for a while, who’s your rock when it comes to event planning, and sneak out as soon as the opportunity arises.

He spots you before you can. You hear your name and smile as you watch Namjoon push himself through the crowd. He’s holding a glass of no doubt cheap champagne and he smiles apologetically when he hands it over. “You missed the cake,” he says, brushing his lips to your cheek as a hello.

“Oh shoot, I’m sure it was to die for,” you feign disappointment, eyeing your glass before cautiously taking a sip.

“I saved you a piece,” Namjoon grins, “it’s stashed away in my coat.” You arch an eyebrow. “What? It was the only way to save it from Hungry Henry,” he shrugs, adding a smile.

“Sounds appetizing, you can feed me later.”

Namjoon’s cheeks rise, the dimples in them sinking deeper as he chuckles at your comment. A warmth spreads through your chest and up your neck, and you wonder how the alcohol has affected you this quick.

Time flies too fast, and two hours have passed when the clock catches your eye. You curse, startling Namjoon in the middle of his story about how his uncle once got lost after a family gathering and one too many drinks. “What’s wrong?” he asks, worry colouring his voice.

“Nothing, I just wasn’t planning on staying this late,” you say as you place your glass on the nearest table. “There’s this new regulation at work,” you explain when you see the unspoken question in his eyes. “and it means I have to get an extra, official certificate to be able to do my job. Which also means having to take an exam tomorrow and I was planning on going over my notes one final time before bed.”

“Sounds dreadful,” Namjoon offers, following in your footsteps as you leave to find your coat. “Not as dreadful as spending the rest of the evening here without you, though.”

His words leave you blushing, and again you blame it on the alcohol. You look away as he holds up your coat, trying to hide your flushed cheeks while you push your arms through the sleeves. “Thanks,” you mumble, and he nods.

“Let me walk you home,” he says, and you look up. His tone is casual but his eyes are questioning, gently tracing the boundaries set between the both of you. Playful, as if he’s testing how far he’s allowed to push them. Or maybe you’re just reading into it too much.

“Uh, sure,” you blink, your eyes still locked on his. “If you don’t have other plans.”

The night is still warm, in a sultry way that leaves you breathless as you near your doorstep. Somewhere along the way, silence has fallen, and you find yourself not minding the quiet as Namjoon’s footsteps fall in next to yours. It’s a comfortable silence, a welcome one. You smile at the ground at the realisation, right when one of Namjoon’s fingers brushes yours.

You suck in a breath, eyes growing in size. “I, uh,-” you start, glad to see your house looming in the distance. You were being ridiculous- Namjoon was your closest co-worker, a friend in every sense of the word. You shouldn’t have gotten that third glass of wine, it’s making you see things, feel things. You still, a hand gesturing to your front door. “This is me.”

Namjoon smiles. “I know.”

Of course, he knows. You mentally facepalm yourself remembering all the times he’s been at your house for meetings. He could probably find his way to the bathroom blindfolded by now.

“It’s late,” you add, pushing up the sleeve of your jacket to reveal your watch. There’s a pause. You cough. “Thanks for the company. It was nice.”

“It was.”

You smile and turn to walk to your door, and you swear you can hear Namjoon’s breathing stop for a second.

“W-wait-”

He takes a step forward, big enough for you to nearly bump into his chest when you turn back around. “I-,” but his words disappear into thin air as he realises your hand is now on his chest, bracing yourself and startled by his sudden closeness. Your eyes are wide in surprise and he notices how small you look next to him for the first time. Small, and cute, and so damn beautiful. He inhales deeply.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question hits you like a tidal wave and suddenly you feel dizzy, but you’re nodding, and he’s kissing you, and you’re enjoying it.

Your mind is racing but blank at the same time, emotions and thoughts tripping over each other in chaos, the noise too loud to pick out just one. You’re kissing Namjoon- or rather, he is kissing you, and his lips are soft and tender and you lose yourself in the intensity of it all.

He pulls away and your mouth follows him, not ready to end this yet. Your eyes flutter open as you lick your lips. There’s another pause and then, “I have to.. go over my notes,” you say, not really sure what just happened. Namjoon nods again, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips.

You melt into his touch, and you’re definitely liking this- until you whimper and break the kiss. “Namjoon-,”

“I know,” he says, running his hand along your arm to stop at your hand. He presses his lips against the back of your hand and intertwines your fingers. Pulling you towards the door gently, he gestures for you to get your keys. “C'mon, I’ll help you study. I have a great reward system.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You can come in,” you say as you regain some of your wits and fumble to turn the lock. “but only because my cake is still in your pocket.”

Namjoon laughs, and it’s like your hearing it for the first time. Really hearing it, and it’s beautiful.

The clock strikes seven, the beeping on his alarm clock growing incessantly louder as Jungkook's fingers blindly brush along its edges to turn it off.

"Shut uuuuup," he murmurs into his pillow, pushing the clock too far, causing it to topple from the nightstand instead. Groaning, he admits defeat as he pulls away the covers. He sits up with his eyes still closed, hair sticking out in all directions and goosebumps appearing where his warm skin touches the cold bedroom air.

He faintly registers your side of the bed as being empty. Not remembering when or why you got up before him, he ruffles his hair and squints to let his eyes adjust to the light.

It's then he hears the soft padding of toddler's feet and a muffled "daddy?" from behind the bedroom door. Jungkook shoots up like an electric current is shot up his spine and finally, the reason for your absence comes back to him. You're at a seminar out of town. "Don't forget to drive Sooyeon and her friend to school. Mrs Lee will pick them up after and drop her off as soon as you're home. Love you," you had said right before kissing Jungkook goodnight and he had nodded, already half asleep.

Leaping to his feet, he curses softly. With three long strides, he's at the door, swinging it open with a smile that only grows fonder when he sees his daughter looking up at him, her shirt on inside-out. It's obvious she attempted to do her hair herself, asymmetrical pigtails sticking out from both sides and some strands she missed covering the back of her neck. Sooyeon's tapping her foot against the floorboards, mimicking her mother whenever she's impatient, complete with two hands placed on her hips.

"Daddy," she says, her speech still a little muddled but stern, "we're going to be late."

Jungkook's eyes grow big, taking a deep breathe to prevent himself from laughing at how cute she is. "Oh dear, you're right!" he replies, feigning panic where his own has subsided the moment he laid eyes on her. When he bends down to pick her up, she giggles- growing louder as he runs down the stairs as cautiously as he can, into the kitchen.

Sooyeon is watching him with smiley eyes as he reheats yesterday's leftovers. Although fairly certain they'll make it on time, he skips cooking a meal from scratch and keeps throwing looks at the clock to confirm his time calculations.

With five minutes to spare, Jungkook calls his daughter over. There's a smile on her face and excitement in her step that nearly makes her knock into him as he steps from behind the counter. "Are we ready?" she asks, her arms stretched upwards for Jungkook to pick her back up.

"Not quite yet, pumpkin," he coos, the sight of his chaotically self-dressed 3-year old daughter making his heart swell, and he crouches to her level. "We just need to quickly change your shirt. Come here, I'll fix it for you."

After redressing her, he puts her on a chair to redo her hair. Having seen you do it a hundred times before, Jungkook parts her hair to his best abilities. Bobby pins held between his lips, he focuses hard to not pull her hair too hard, or tie the hair tie too tight. And then she's off again, grabbing her little backpack and running to the front door with Jungkook trailing behind her.

"Ready to go to Mrs Lee's house?" Jungkook teases before opening the door, Sooyeon zooming into the front yard and to the car.

A loud groan comes from his office. There’s a faint typing sound carrying into the hallway, slipping through the slightly cracked door as you walk past. Gently, you push it open. “I brought you tea,” you offer, placing it on his desk, trying to get a glimpse of what he’s writing.

Hoseok mumbles a thank you and subtly slides his laptop to the left, just out of your field of vision. He looks up, squinting. “Not yet,” he says and cracks a tired smile. You know, because he hasn’t slept well in over a month and the joy doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I know, baby,” you coo, sliding your palm over his shoulder to touch his neck. Pressing a kiss to his hair, you knead at the tight muscle. “Why don’t you come to bed early tonight? Maybe after a good night’s sleep and with a clear mind, you’ll find whatever’s bothering you. You’ve been rereading and editing the same part for four days now and I swear you’ve started reciting entire paragraphs in your sleep.”

Hoseok chuckles and reaches for his tea. He ticks the porcelain with his fingers and brings the cup to his lips, slipping back into his thoughts before he can offer you a reply or apology. Not that he needs to, you know how hard and demanding the writing process can be. How disappointing and ungrateful putting colourful and vivid images in your head to paper and doing them justice can be. Or at least, you’d like to think you understand. Understand the pressure your husband is under right now.

It’s not like Hoseok’s agent has been pressing him for the next chapter. In fact, she’s been nothing but supportive of him and his creative process but, Hoseok’s a perfectionist and doesn’t like to settle for anything but excellence.

Which is why you don’t complain when he hides away in his office all hours of the day. You miss him though, and sometimes after a long day of hiding, he slips under the covers before you’ve fallen asleep and shows you just how much he misses you too.

To your surprise, Hoseok walks in all dressed for bed as you’re brushing your teeth. You raise your eyebrows as he grabs his toothbrush, squeezing toothpaste onto the bristles. “You'w fwinished?” you ask, unable to hide your surprise. This time his eyes smile in response as you try not to dribble all over your shirt. Sliding his arm around your waist and putting the brush to his mouth, he winks. “I decided to take your advice.”

You brush in silence, stealing glances in the mirror and sharing gentle touches out of sight. With a nudge of your elbow, you draw his gaze to yours. “What?” he laughs, nudging you back.

You spit the remaining toothpaste into the sink and flush it down. “Remember the Kendrick concert you were raving about a few months ago?” Hoseok’s face falls a little, his mouth morphing into a slight pout.

“I’d completely forgotten about that.”

Beaming at him, you fail to hide a smile. “I haven’t.”

Hoseok watches you in confusion as you walk into the bedroom, opening your bedside drawer to pull out a big envelope. “I would’ve told you sooner,” you say, handing it to him as he plops onto the bed next to you, “it was awful to see you so disappointed when you missed out but I wanted it to be a surprise and you’ve been so busy with your script I didn’t want to mess up your vibes.” You stress the last word with a mocking tone but Hoseok doesn’t notice. He’s eyeing the envelope with curiosity, his fingers curving along the top deliberately— tortuously calm. Inhaling slowly, you try to resist the urge to open it for him. But you’re not the patient type.

“I bought you a ticket,” you blurt before he can take out the two pieces of paper within. Hoseok audibly stops breathing for a second, before his eyes go wide and he breaks into a grin covering the entire width of his face, his dimples deepening with every millisecond.

“I hope you can make time tomorrow,” you start but you get cut off by Hoseok smothering you in kisses. A faint squeal escapes you as he pulls you down onto the mattress with him, pinning you there with his entire body. His lips are everywhere— your nose, your temples, your ears, your forehead, your jaw, every piece of you within his reach is getting kissed.

The thing about being loved by Hoseok is that it’s addicting. It radiates off his being straight into your soul like he’s trying to make sure you always carry some of his warmth with you for cold and lonely days. Being loved by Hoseok is a privilege, his heart big and aching for more of you, his essence the metaphorical cuddle after a long day. And as you’re being held by Hoseok, peppering you with kisses until you’re out of breath and cry laughing, his (and your) love has never felt so pure.