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The apartment smells like garlic, butter, and whatever candle Minho lit an hour ago that claimed to be "fresh linen," but mostly just smelled expensive. Jisung stands in the kitchen doorway, watching his husband move around with practiced ease. The knife moves steadily beneath Minho's hands. Vegetables are piled neatly on the cutting board, a pot simmers quietly on the stove. Somewhere in the apartment, Dori is knocking something over, but Jisung doesn't move to investigate. Because all he can think is: My husband.
The thought still doesn't feel entirely real.
His husband.
Even now, two months later, the thought makes something warm bloom in his chest. The marriage isn't legal; not here anyway. There are no government documents tucked away in a filing cabinet, no certificates hanging on a wall, no legal recognition waiting for them. But there are rings and promises. There are vows exchanged beneath fairy lights and a sky full of stars.
There is a tiny silver band resting on Minho's left pinky and a silver ring with a rose quartz stone sitting snugly on Jisung's. And there is the apartment they've built together over the last four years. Four years of shared mornings and grocery shopping. Four years of laundry and movie nights and accidentally adopting too many pets. Four years of choosing each other. As far as Jisung is concerned, that's more real than any paperwork.
"You've been staring at me for three minutes." Minho doesn't even look up from chopping vegetables. Jisung blinks.
"I have not."
"You absolutely have, you're not very subtle, Jisungie."
"I was simply admiring."
"Same thing."
"It's not."
Minho finally glances over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Jisung immediately feels his entire brain stop functioning. God. How was he supposed to survive being married to Lee Minho? It had only been two months since their symbolic wedding ceremony— a tiny gathering held in a rented garden, with fairy lights and handwritten vows and, honestly, enough tears to embarrass everyone involved (Minho will deny crying until his dying day).
Tonight wasn't exactly another wedding celebration; more like a continuation. A chance to gather everyone together and quietly say: We're still here. We're still choosing each other. Jisung is still not used to the certainty of everything. For most of his life, things felt temporary. He knew everything changed eventually, but Minho had stayed through every single moment, and somehow, even after all this time, Jisung still found himself surprised by that. Not because he doubted Minho, but because he still couldn't quite believe he'd gotten lucky enough to be loved this completely.
The doorbell rings, and before either of them can move, three furry missiles come sprinting through the apartment. Soonie arrives first, followed closely by Doongie and Dori. The trio skids around the corner like a tiny stampede.
"The boys are really excited," Jisung says.
"The boys think everyone is here to worship them."
"Well, I mean, they're not wrong." Minho snorts, and the doorbell rings again. Soonie meows dramatically. "See? Validation." Jisung says.
Minho points the knife at him. "Get the door."
"Yes, husband."
"Stop saying it like that."
Jisung beams. "No."
He practically skips to the entrance, and the second he opens the door, chaos enters. Changbin pushes inside carrying enough food for an army, and Hyunjin follows with flowers. Felix has dessert boxes stacked almost to his chin, while Seungmin appears suspiciously empty-handed. Jeongin is already laughing at something nobody else heard, while Chan is standing behind everyone looking like a tired parent attempting to herd five overexcited children.
"Move inside," Chan says. "You're blocking the hallways."
"We literally just got here," Jeongin protests.
"Exactly."
"Congratulations on your fake marriage," Seungmin says.
"It's not fake!" Jisung pouts.
Seungmin rolls his eyes. "Legally speaking."
"It's real in my heart."
"That's worse."
Jisung gasps, and Changbin immediately hands him a container. "Here, I made side dishes."
"I love you."
"I know."
"Not romantically, though."
"Thank god for that."
Everyone filters inside eventually. Within minutes, the apartment fills with familiar voices and overlapping conversations. The space that usually belongs to just him and Minho suddenly belongs to everyone. It feels exactly how Jisung imagined adulthood was when he was younger, not glamorous, not perfect, just full. The kind of full that settles into the walls and makes a place feel lived in. Home.
Felix is the first one to notice the rings. "Oh." His face immediately softens. "You two are wearing them."
Jisung instinctively looks down, watching as the rose quartz catches the warm kitchen light. Beside him, Minho's silver band glints when he reaches for a serving spoon. Neither one of them had taken them off since the ceremony. Not once. "Of course we are," Jisung says.
Minho shrugs, but his thumb brushes against the ring as a tiny unconscious gesture. One that Jisung notices immediately, because that's what happens after years of loving someone. You start collecting their habits, the little things that nobody else sees.
Across the room, Chan notices too, and for a moment, something soft crosses his face. A look that Jisung can't quite place. Pride maybe.
"You guys are disgustingly cute," Jeongin announces.
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"Again, thank you."
Dinner eventually spreads across every available surface: the dining room table, the counter, a nearby shelf. One chair somehow becomes a designated plate storage station. Everyone squeezes together anyway, voices taking up all the silence that was in the apartment before. Outside, evening starts to settle over the city. Inside, golden light spills from the kitchen. Minho sits beside Jisung, and their shoulders touch. Neither of them moves away. At some point, Jisung glances across the table and realizes everyone is smiling. Changbin is arguing with Seungmin, Felix is laughing so hard at something Chan is telling him that his eyes disappear. Jeongin's stealing food from multiple plates, and the cats are weaving between chair legs.
For a moment, everything feels suspended. Like one of those snow globes that people keep on shelves. Tiny and fragile, but perfect. Jisung reaches beneath the table and finds Minho's hand. Their fingers intertwine instantly. Minho doesn't look at him just squeezes once. A question asking Jisung if he's ok. Jisung squeezes back letting him know he's more than ok. Jisung doesn't even realize he's smiling until Chan catches him.
"What?" Jisung asks.
Chan blinks. "What?"
"Why are you looking at us like that?"
"I'm not?"
"You are."
"I'm literally just eating."
"No."
Felix immediately starts laughing. "He's right."
Chan groans. "I hate all of you."
"You look emotional."
"I'm not emotional."
"You're being weirdly dad-shaped right now." The entire table erupts, and Chan drops his head into his hands.
"Oh my god." But when he looks back up, he's still smiling. Because the truth is, he remembers. He remembers Jisung pacing around his apartment years ago, trying to convince everyone he definitely didn't have feelings for Minho. He remembers Minho asking suspiciously specific questions about Jisung while pretending not to care. Now he reaches for Jisung's glass before Jisung even realizes it's empty. He remembers when Jisung used to panic about saying the wrong thing; now, he fits into Minho's life so naturally it looks effortless. Every uncertainty, every moment they almost missed each other. And now they're here, wearing rings and sharing an apartment. Building a life together.
"You know," Chan says quietly. "I think this is the happiest I've ever seen you two."
Silence falls, but it's not an awkward silence; just enough for the words to land. Jisung feels something tighten painfully in his chest. Because Chan isn't joking; he's saying it like someone who knows exactly how hard they fought to get here. Minho looks down at his plate, the tips of his ears turning pink. "That's embarrassing."
"It's true." For a second, nobody speaks. Then Felix reaches over and squeezes Chan's shoulder. Hyunjin smiles. Changbin looks suspiciously emotional, and suddenly, Jisung feels tears threatening to escape. Not because he's sad, because he's happy. So overwhelmingly happy it almost hurts.
Across the room, a small terrarium sits near the window. Richard, Jisung's newest baby, clings to a branch with all the enthusiasm of someone avoiding social interaction. Her tiny eyes blink slowly. Felix notices first.
"How is Richard?"
"She's always judging us."
Minho nods. "Especially you."
"I give her bugs, though! I was so brave and gave her bugs!"
"She's still judging you, jagi."
Laughter fills the room again. The moment passes, but the feeling remains.
Jisung looks over at the terrarium, then back at the room. At all of their friends. At the cats that are sprawled across the floor, and at the husband sitting beside him. The word still makes his heart flutter. Husband. The person he wakes up beside. The person who remembers how he takes his coffee. The person who leaves sticky notes in lunch boxes and makes sure Jisung remembers them. The person who knows every single version of him.
The loud version when he's overexcited about something. The anxious version when Jisung just can't get out of his head. The messy version when he's leaving his stuff all over the apartment. And yet, Minho chooses him anyway, every single day.
This truly is the life he'd always wanted. Not perfection or grand gestures. This. The crowded apartment with a table full of the people they love. Three spoiled cats and one judgemental gecko. A husband sitting beside him and friends who became family. A future that doesn't feel frightening anymore.
The noise around them continues on. Plates are being set on the counter, someone's laughing. Dori steals a piece of fallen chicken and runs out of the room while Changbin yells about it. The world just keeps turning. But for a second, Jisung exists entirely in this moment. In this apartment. In this life surrounded by all this love. Minho finally notices him staring again.
"There you go again."
"What?"
"The staring."
"I'm admiring."
"Still the same thing."
Jisung smiles, because maybe it is. Maybe he'll spend the rest of his life looking at Minho like this. Like every ordinary day is something worth celebrating. The way home isn't really a place anymore; it's a person. Minho rolls his eyes when Jisung kisses his cheek, but his ears turn pink. And when Jisung leans closer, he catches the smallest smile. The private one that Minho saves just for him.
Jisung thinks that if he could keep any moment forever, it might be this one. Not the ceremony, not the vows, not even the rings. Just this. The quiet certainty beneath all the noise, the feeling of belonging. The feeling of being loved and looking across a crowded room and knowing exactly where home is. And when Minho's hand finds his again under the table, Jisung squeezes back as if to say: I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover today, tomorrow, and for every ordinary evening after that.