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"Dinner is ready." Mrs. Kim tells you, and you nod at the unspoken request.
You place the half read magazine down and slip away, towards the hallway, hop into worn out boots and then the front door swings back behind you and the cool of the house is left behind.
It's still warm.
The wind is whispering in the rose bushes that line the little garden, but beyond that the rolling hills yellow with grain shine.
Small, half up the hill, you can make out a figure.
The summer sun has graced his skin with colour that is highlighted against the faded white shirt he wears rolled up to his elbows.
It's lose, lose enough to not allow sweat to collect at this hour, though you find the ground between the densely growing stalks quite cool as opposed to the sun setting behind you and warming your back.
"Seokjin!" You call out, and at your voice his head perks up and he turns and the sight warms your heart.
He smiles, even before he turns, it seems; and opens his arms.
You speed up, despite the incline the hill takes, and run the last bit.
He catches you and lifts you up, spins around once. Only lets you down afterwards.
"Hello." He says, and his face is so alight with his smile that it has your heart threatening to flow over.
"Dinner is ready." You say, instead of the million other things that are on the tip of your tongue, and he leans his forehead against yours.
"I'm happy to see you, too."
He slips his hands around your back to tug you into his body, share the last minutes of golden hour safely wrapped around each other.
"We saw each other at lunch. And before that at breakfast. And before that, you were the first thing I saw after waking up today." Your own palm comes up to cover his cheek, and you feel him lean into the touch.
The wind comes rustling up the hill, brushing the grain, and you impossibly step closer; your legs cool and covered in goosebumps while your top half is comfortably warmed.
"I love you." Seokjin whispers into the hair by your temple, and then he pushes a kiss there.
The setting sun is blinding, glowing in her reflection in Seokjin's eyes and burning in the tips of his hair, softly painting him in shades of yellow, orange and red.
The sky on one side is aflame, on the other, up the hill, white clouds drift over the deepening blue.
You breathe in.
And suddenly the sun is gone, and Seokjin's hand in yours tightens, and you walk side by side through the field, each of you in their own path the wheels of the tractor left behind and your arms held out over the space seperating you.
The haze of the hot day gradually lifts the lower the sun sinks behind the horizon. Already you can taste the moisture coming back, finally winning against the unrelenting heat that lingered after midday.
It's almost cold in your thin cotton clothes, but then you arrive back at the farmhouse, and the door is still ajar, and inside is dry and warm against the chill of outside, an early sign that autumn is approaching.
Before you can slip into kitchen after stepping out of your shoes, Seokjin tugs on your shirt and wraps his arms around you in a back hug.
His chin settles over your shoulder and you can feel his cheek against your ear.
"I love you." He repeats, leaning into you.
"And I love you." You whisper, hands running over his bare forearms, down to the hands that have gotten rough from the work on the fields.
"I. Love you." He sighs, holding you closer.
You turn in his grasp until you can kiss his jaw by his chin, and then press another smooch to the soft part of his cheek.
"Let's go eat. Before it gets cold."
But he refuses to let go of your hand until everyone is seated and the worst of the dust is washed away and the steaming food is put on the plates.
The inside of the house stays cool during the heat of summer and warms only after the sun sets and the hearth is lit. Seokjin's room is on the east side, not getting any light apart from morning and too far from the kitchen to have warm air drifting in and you shiver under the light covers until he slips in with you and wraps himself around you, laces his fingers between yours and nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck and you feel safe again despite whatever might lurk in the depth of night.
It doesn't matter.
And if you wake when it is darkest, and see the stars through the window, you know you'll only have to reach out and find his warm body next to you on the bed, and the night loses a bit of its menace.
Seokjin looks beautiful, no matter what light touches him, but maybe he is prettiest in the moonlight.
The sunset paints his skin rich and lush, dawn softly outlines him in pastel, but moonlight leaves silver traces along his brow and nose, leaves shadows under his jaw and in his hair, and despite how regal and cold he appears in those half-awake, fleeting moments; you only need to touch him to know he is still full of warmth, soft all over and pliant to hold your hand or press a kiss to your palm, arm, neck; wherever is closest right then.
And you tell it to the shadows, whisper it to the moon and the stars; you love him.
You love him so much.