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When someone in your close friend circle turns thirty, they become the black sheep. Lucky for Park Jimin - one of your oldest friends since college - he was the last of your little group to reach the milestone. The chilly, rainy month of October brought about a birthday party that you had been anticipating, purely because it gave you a break from your grueling, but rewarding, job as a marriage counselor.
“So, let me get this right - “
You were leaning against the kitchen counter in Taehyung’s swanky penthouse apartment, lips wrapped around the rim of a cold, much-needed beer, as he scooped out a few servings of his homemade guac. Taehyung had been dating Jimin for over a year now, and technically, he would be the last of your friends to turn thirty - currently sitting cool at the envious age of twenty-eight. He’d become a good friend of yours in the time he’d been with Jimin, and incidentally, he was now the person you told your secrets to.
“ - you’re...hiding from your boyfriend?”
“I am not hiding,”
“The second he walked through the door you scurried in here like a little mouse,” Taehyung snorted, scraping the sides of the bowl for extra guacamole before popping the spoon into his mouth, “it was like watching Bambi run from the hunter,”
You frowned, tapping the bottle against your bottom lip, “Hey, that’s a sad scene, don’t make jokes,”
“I’m just saying, you’re gonna make things a whole lot more awkward if you don’t talk to him,” Taehyung’s eyes rolled heavenward when he saw the reluctant expression on your face, the guacamole bowl still in his hands as he placed it beside the platter of chips, “It’s not even that bad. It’s a good thing right? Most women want their boyfriend to - “
“Shh!” You waved frantically as the man in question walked through the door, tall and handsome. Clad in a tight t-shirt and camel-coloured coat, you swallowed hard at the overwhelming lust that rushed through your body, followed sharply by utter mortification, “Baby, hey,”
Namjoon walked over, one brow cocked and a hand tucked into the pocket of his jeans. When he made it to you, he dropped a sweet kiss on your forehead, stepping back as a hush fell over the three of you, and sensing the suffocating atmosphere, Taehyung took the opportunity and grasped it with both hands.
“I’ve gotta greet the guests,” He jerked one thumb over his shoulder, raising his brows as you silently pleaded with him not to leave you alone with your boyfriend, “I’ll see you guys later, enjoy the party,” Then, he was gone. And it was just you and Namjoon, alone for the first time since last night.
“So,”
Of course, Namjoon was the first to speak, and being that he towered over your height, he failed to see the wince that leaked into your features.
“I didn’t see you this morning. Haven’t seen you all day, actually,” His voice implored you to look at him, and you stepped away, turning to glance up at him once, cowardice getting the best of you when your eyes fell to the drink in your hand. You should have gotten vodka, “Everything okay?”
“Yup!” Your voice was too high, too squeaky. Way too obvious, and you grimaced, inhaling deeply before you swallowed down another hearty glug of your beer. The cold burned your throat a little, but it was nowhere near as painful as the silence between the two of you, “Um, I’ve been busy today. You know - yoga, lunch with Jimin...uh, shopping…”
It was a lie - Namjoon wasn’t an idiot, and you could tell as much by the ghost of a smile that crossed his beautiful lips. You really wished you could just kiss him and take him to one of Taehyung and Jimin’s bathrooms so he could forget about the conversation you’d ran away from last night.
“I see,” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest, and once again you silently thanked his brother for getting him that session with his personal trainer. Since then, he hasn’t stopped, and it really showed. You almost felt the drool leak down your chin. When Namjoon’s head turned towards you, your eyes flew to his, and he smiled again, one of his dimples winking at you, “Have you thought about what we talked about?”
‘Talked about’ was a stretch. Namjoon did most of the talking, then you blurted out that you needed to shower, took way too long in the bathroom and only returned when you were sure Namjoon was asleep. So, perhaps you were running from him - just a little.
“Uh...wh - well, a little. I still, ah - “
“Y/N! There you are!” Jimin cried from the doorway to the kitchen, and you could swear you could have kissed him then. You threw on your biggest smile, and turned away from your ever persistent boyfriend to allow your slightly inebriated best friend to throw his arms around you, demanding you do shots with him.
With a quick glance at Namjoon, you saw him smile at you, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Before you could wallow in it for too long, Jimin was pouring the tequila, and you were throwing them back.
------
“Okay, here we go…” Namjoon grunted, one arm around your waist, the other battling with the door to your apartment. He’d lived here for almost three years now, and still he had no idea how someone as tiny as you managed to push open that ten-tonne door, “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get you ready for bed,”
“Now your talkin’ - “ You hiccupped, head lolling against Namjoon’s shoulder, and he held his breath against the onslaught of your tequila scented voice, “Clothes off big guy!”
His hands wrapped around your wrists, a laugh sneaking up from his throat as you frowned, battling to undress him with your limp, drunken hands, “I think that can wait till tomorrow. Let’s get you some water, then I can take off your makeup,”
“You know - “ Your voice was loud, slurring almost every word, but you spoke as if you were completed sober. It was funny, and kinda cute. “I’m an ina-inerpentent - “
“Independent,” Namjoon corrected, but you weren’t listening.
“ - I can take good care of myself, I get waxes, I can do anythinghf - “ You made it to the sofa, your face instantly smashing into the pillow, and Namjoon tried to help you up but you waved him away, still talking, “And I don’t mean the eassy ones - the big girl wax,”
Namjoon made sure you were sitting upright, your voice still going on even as he asked you gently to swallow a few sips of water. By the time the glass was empty, your eyes were drooping, and your words growing quieter in the darkness of your apartment.
“Baysickly - “ You pointed at Namjoon once he plopped your down at your vanity, his hands working nimbly as possible to pluck off your fake eyelashes before he dampened a cotton pad with cleanser and swiped it across your cheeks, “I mean...I’m fine - I don’t need any men to look after me. Do you see?”
Namjoon paused, taking a moment to look into your glassy, unfocussed eyes, and once more he was reminded of how much he loved you. He was so in love with you, he knew he’d never recover, which is why he’d made what was evidently a huge mistake last night.
Continuing with the meticulous work of removing your makeup, Namjoon dampened a washcloth in the en suite, coming back to wipe the remainder of it from your face. Once it was bare, he grinned, so used to seeing you with nothing on your face - he loved every inch. “There she is,”
You tilted your head to the side, your face unreadable for a moment before you glanced down, hands reaching out and -
You squeezed Namjoon’s chest, brows drawn together in concentration as if you were doing some important work down there. Namjoon frowned, eyes darting to where your palms met the front of his shirt, and then back at your face. You hiccuped out a laugh, a dazed look on your face before you spoke, “Huh, boobies,”
Sighing softly, Namjoon brushed a hand through his hair and fought back a smile, “Right, come on, perv. Time for bed,”
------
The morning sliced through your oblivious slumber like a knife, the headache coming soon after, making you feel as if said knife had pierced your skull. As you lay in your empty bed, you landed back down on earth with a thud, a crash. Hands pressed to your eyes, you groaned aloud once you realised how drunk you had been last night, and the dumbass things you had said to your boyfriend. You rolled over and pushed your face into your pillow, wishing and praying that you would be suffocated and could forget this whole thing.
“Good morning, pretty girl,” Namjoon’s voice interrupted your plans, and you gingerly turned your face to the side so you were looking at the man standing by your bed. He was dressed in his favourite pyjamas, an amused look on his face, and you instantly wanted to die all over again, “Feeling tender, are we?”
You groaned again, and the bed sank a little when Namjoon sat beside you, brushing the hairs from your face. You pouted and glanced up at him, “I’m sorry,”
“Don’t apologise for getting drunk, Y/N. I’m glad you had fun - “
“No, not that,” You sighed, pushing yourself up and fighting to ignore the throbbing going on in your skull, “I mean...before that. I was,” You sighed again, but this one went through your whole body. You were afraid, but you needed to speak about it, “I was avoiding you yesterday. It was childish, I’m sorry,”
Namjoon’s lips curled into one of those sad smiles again, and you reached for his hand, terrified you were about to throw away almost a decade-long relationship.
“I see,” He replied, and moved to lay against the headboard, “I had a feeling. I guess...I just thought we were there,”
Swallowing down your fear and pride, you squeezed his hand, “I mean, proposing to someone after eight years together isn’t exactly rushing things,”
“I did though,” He said, “I rushed you. You’re not ready,”
He looked heartbroken, and you wanted so bad to fix this, but you didn’t know how. Even at work, you only dealt with couples that had already decided to get married - what did you say to the ones who hadn’t even made it there yet?
“You want me to be honest?”
Namjoon nodded, his eyes imploring you to tell him what had been going on inside your head over the past forty-eight hours.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” You said, nodding to yourself more than anything, “I work all day with couples whose marriages are...bad. And the ones that work out? Most of them have already been married like...forty years,”
Your boyfriend watched you closely, listening to your every word, and so you soldered on. You needed to talk about this before you inadvertently broke his heart, “I don’t want to wait forty years for us to get to the good part,”
“We’re already at the good part, Y/N,” Namjoon said, his eyes expressive and round, “We’re already there. I love you, and I want to be your husband. I want to do all the dumb stuff - I want to get up in front of our friends and say cheesy vows to you, and I want us to wear the matching rings. And then, I want us to make lots of babies and pick out wall colours for our suburban house outside the city. I want all that. The only difference it will make, is we’ll call each other husband and wife. Nothing’s gonna change,”
You were feeling unexpectedly emotional - the little picture Namjoon had painted for you. You’d never expected to be won over by the prospect of white picket fences, but when it was with Namjoon, you were beginning to wonder if you could get used to it.
“Okay,” You whispered, nodding slightly, “Okay then, we can do all that,”
“Oh, that wasn’t a proposal,” Namjoon smirked, though you could tell by the glow in his eyes that he was thrilled, “When I ask you again - and I will ask you again - it’s gonna be done right. With a ring, and me getting down on one knee, the whole nine yards,” He exhaled gently, and you smiled, “Think you can get used to that?”
Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his ever so gently, pulling back as you were rewarded by a blinding smile, “I think I can,”