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“Are you sure we’re supposed to be out here?”
Namjoon laughs as he stumbles over a stepping stone in the garden. The safe answer is probably no , considering there’s little to no light out here whatsoever; if people were permitted to come out here, there would probably be at least some semblance of light to guide them through it.
Namjoon, surprisingly, doesn’t care.
They’re not drunk. The wedding was well-enjoyed by everyone in attendance, and the most intoxication they received was merely from the energy that they fed off of through one another—the buzz of a strong bond between friends and families and lovers.
Namjoon feels drunk because of that buzz, but he isn’t drunk really. He just feels a little drunk because he’s so happy.
“Come on,” he insists, tugging Hoseok even further into the shadowed shrubbery.
The venue is breathtaking, everything about it: the rustic look of the aged building, whose marble walls gleam wonderfully from underneath the coils of green vines and leaves. The high windows and the fairy lights, the bundles of flowers all strewn about.
The place looks like something straight out of a storybook — Seokjin had made sure of that, had poured over every last detail like it was his own wedding that he was planning, instead of theirs.
Namjoon and Hoseok are beyond grateful for all the work he put into it.
So, Namjoon can’t really complain about the lack of lighting in the garden. Honestly, it’s a little bit perfect in itself, that little imperfection. The garden is dark and yet still so beautiful, and Namjoon thinks he could find at least three things in that detail alone that could symbolize all of the happiness he’s mustered throughout the night.
“Namjoon, be careful!”
Namjoon keeps tripping over the stepping stones, stumbling over roots and rocks and laughing all the while. He’s just so happy. He could faceplant right into the dirt and still keep laughing, because he’s so happy .
Hoseok laughs right along with him, fond as he’s ever been even as he’s scolding his fiance.
No, husband.
That’ll take some getting used to. Namjoon can’t wait to exhaust the newfound title with every opportunity he gets.
My husband, he thinks. Hoseok.
“Okay, okay,” Namjoon waves.
They guide one another to the overgrown courtyard tucked cozily in the center of the garden; it’s nothing more than a circle of stone laid tenderly amidst walls of thick hedges, flowers poking their careful heads out of the bushes every here and there in pops of color, shrouded by night.
The moon shines high up above them, gleaming down in blankets of silvery light. The stars poke holes in the sky, winking down at the two of them.
Inside the venue just beside the garden, the sounds of ambiance from the reception drift up into the air, laughter dancing up into the twinkling night sky. The smell of roses is strong, but not overpowering ━ much like Hoseok’s presence.
He looks downright heart-stopping in his all-white suit, the contrast of his cherry red hair sitting nicely against the starkness.
Namjoon is certain that his own situation ━ plain black suit, with his hair unkempt from the night’s events and his overall state of being nowhere near as radiant as Hoseok’s ━ pales greatly in comparison to his husband’s (husband, husband).
But, Hoseok has never been the type to mind those sorts of things. Namjoon just thinks it’s worth noting, the fact that he managed to marry a man who gives the sun a run for its money.
In the moonlight, Hoseok glows like a star that got lost on its way falling down from the sky ━ and Namjoon still, after all these years, cannot fathom that he had been the one to break Hoseok’s fall.
But, if Hoseok wants to let him cradle that starlight close for the rest of their lives, who is a humble human like Namjoon to complain?
“Now what?”
Hoseok wonders the question aloud, caressing a bushel of leaves as the two of them venture further into the courtyard.
Namjoon watches him move through the garden, his starlight, and smiles to himself.
“Dance with me?”
Hoseok turns, already wearing that hypnotizing smile. It widens when their eyes meet, gazes defying the darkness to seek out one another. Even now, Namjoon’s heart still flutters, his stomach still turning with nerves.
“Didn’t we already have our first dance?” Hoseok titters, though already drifting closer to Namjoon as he says it. “I didn’t know a second dance was customary for weddings.”
“It’s not,” Namjoon takes his hand. “I was thinking we could spice things up a bit, you know, rock the boat.”
“Is that so?” Hoseok drawls.
He crowds into Namjoon’s space, and Namjoon lets him.
“Yeah,” Namjoon murmurs, entranced. “Don’t want our marriage going stale, do we?”
Hoseok laughs, and it becomes a comet inside Namjoon’s chest.
“Ah,” Hoseok breathes through an amused exhalation of air. He slides an arm around Namjoon’s waist as he does so, the two of them already beginning to sway. “Always the precautionary one, weren’t you? Good looking out, love.”
They dance despite the lack of music, chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart, breathing in each other’s air for so long that time slips away from them.
Who knows how many stars have blinked out, since they began?
All Namjoon knows is that his star is shining so brightly that it almost hurts to hold him ━ and yet, even in thinking so, knowing that he’ll never let go regardless.
“I love you,” he doesn’t have to say, because Hoseok already knows it.
He says it anyway, though.
And Hoseok is always right there, ready to say it back.
“I love you, more.”
Later, their friends will come looking for them. They’ll have spent so much time alone in the dark garden, wishing upon fallen stars, that the others will have begun to think they’ve skipped out on their own wedding reception.
They’ll have leaves stuck in their hair from kissing against the hedges, and they’ll smell of roses: strong, but not overpowering.
And they’ll be punch drunk from nothing but love, but they’ll carry on through the night anyway, because it feels like they’ve caught falling stars.
And it’d be a shame to let them go to waste.