For as long as Jiyong had known her, Yongbae was full of rhythm. 

She was a dancer by nature, her body unable to stop itself from rocking to any tune, any beat worth dancing to. She did it to ones only she could hear, sometimes just stopping whatever she was doing to dance it out.

"I'm no good at sound mixing." She'd explained at one point. "The only way I can express what I hear is to show it. Then it can stop bothering me."

They'd been together a long time, Jiyong and Yongbae. He'd learned to watch her when she danced out her beats. One particularly memorable time, he'd called her in the early hours of the morning, had her come back to the recording studio (despite having only been gone a few hours) because his mix was stuck. He didn't know what was wrong with it, only that it was missing something, something was wrong. She'd been almost slumped on his shoulder, exhaustion tugging her down, as he'd played it for her.

"What do you want me to do about it, Ji?" She had murmured, voice whispy with waning resolve to remain conscious. At the time, he'd been too lost in trying to fix the mix to be remorseful for the state she was in, nor of what he demanded from her next.

"Dance to it."

She cocked her head at him, coming more awake. Her limbs looked like they were weighed down by enough bricks to build a house and he wanted movement from her?

After three minutes of watching her move to the beat, Jiyong turned to the sound board, furiously twisting things and adjusting the tune. She passed out on the couch behind him once she'd deemed herself dismissed. And, as the sun's rays hit the YG building bringing the first of dawn with them, Jiyong kissed the sleeping dancer's forehead, the complete and perfect track for Fantastic Baby playing on loop in the background. 

Yes, Yongbae had taught him a lot about music by what he could see in her body, in the way she moved, and how he could make visible finesse into audible art. But of all of his choices, all of the things he'd done in life, Yongbae was the only thing for which he regretted absolutely nothing. She was his art given motion in their music videos, when they were on stage. Not to mention her voice, how he could harmonize with her, work with her intial training as a rapper to change her singing sound and the subsequent direction of the song.

That wasn't even to mention all the times she'd saved him. Mostly it was small things, things she never acknowledged as anything much but probably kept ten years on Jiyong's lifespan. She would bring him food, water, cleaning supplies, clothes. When she'd get too tired to keep together, she'd make him sleep with her under the pretense of a nap, but they would wake up twelve hours later, tangled together and all too eager to drink some water and go back to sleep. He'd woken up more than once, arms wrapped around her hips, head pillowed on her shoulder or , the soothing, slow beat of her heart more of a comfort than he realized he needed. In many ways, even though she was his dongsaeng, he felt like she was a noona. 

Having been around her so long, he had also become somewhat desensitized to any on her part. Yongbae was a dancer, and she had her own comfort zones. As an artist who was far from normal in his field, Jiyong had never seen the point of trying to keep her 'modest' to any great degree. She liked being shirtless, the fans loved it, and she usually got Daesung shirtless too so she wasn't completely alone. She most definitely had a tendency towards stripping - a lifelong grudge against any form of shirt - and the sight of her that way was something so normal he was startled when people made comment on it, comparing her to other female idols. 

"Wel, she'd not them." He would defend. "She was chosen to be with me in GDYB, and later Bigbang, for a reason. She's unique, like the rest of the members - a better fit for Bigbang than she would be in any other group."

That didn't mean she wasn't feminine - she loved to dance, but dancing in heels . . . The way her eyes would light up made sure that Jiyong slipped that information to Yongbae's stylist noona. Even in heeled boots or high heels, Yongbae danced so easily and fluidly. He swore he could watch her move for hours, loved to dance with her until they collapsed on the studio floor and had to call Daesung to get them home. She also had no problems with letting him dress her up, do her makeup, play with her hair and its colour, sometimes becoming his personal Barbie at her own expense. 

The pipe organ broke him from his retrospection, along with a sharp elbow from Seungri, who'd won the position of 'closest-to-Jiyong' bestman. The women of 2NE1 were on the other side, all in soft pink knee-length dresses, something Jiyong had picked out. In truth, he'd done almost everything for this event in their lifetime, Yongbae's singular request being that she's allowed to choose and conceal her dress from him.

The doors opened and Jiyong's breath was stolen.

Yongbae always kept the sides of her head shaven, much to the dismay of whomever must have worked on her. Her hair had been bleached white-blonde, event he stubble on the side of her head, the thick stripe of hair down the centre of her head parted down the middle, thousands of thin ringlets raining around her head. Atop her head, there lay a golden laurel, cushioned by her curls, which held up her veil, a small thing that didn't brush her collarbone. And her dress . . . She had kept to the Grecian theme, a gold band shaped like her laurel starting under her right armpit and wrapping across her chest to meet once more over her left shoulder. A solid laurel wreath was was around her waist, the simply patterned and sheer fabric falling loose and airy around her hips, a smooth, caramel leg appearing through a mid-thigh-high slit. Her heels were laced golden, the sole and heel white with small silver accents to give them some sparkle. 

He was almost dumbstruck when her father passed him her hand, almost fell trying to drink her in when he should have been leading her up the small staircase to the altar. The pastor only gave him a knowing smile, Seungri making a quip about how he should have gotten to Yongbae first. Jiyong didn't catch it all, didn't even pay attention to the pastor. When he lifted her veil at the preacher's prompt, he was struck dumb again. 

The veil had a sheen on it, distorting her face, so he hadn't been able to see the baby pink eyeshadow she had across her lids, didn't notice how the black liner around her eyes would make them pop that much more, how her lips - a washed out pink - looked downright delicious. He couldn't stop staring, especially when she smiled at him so blissfully her eyes retreated to those wonderful cresents. 

"Do you have vows you would like to say?" The pastor questioned just low enough that only the couple could hear him clearly. 

Yongbae nodded, her hand finally reaching out to clasp his. She met his eyes with a small, sweet smile. "We've been together a long time. We began the walk to greatness together, lonely children huddled together with only a dream to our names. Trainees so often share struggles and become friends through them, but perhaps fate was guiding us even then. I've shared a long part of my childhood with you, only you, and built up a bond that only we share. Talent made us a companions, hardship made us friends, Bigbang made us thankful and years made us lovers. We've fought our way uphill for a long time side by side. This is by no means an end, only a precious moment, but I look forward to the challenge once more, this time hand in hand. A handsome man, a wonderful soul, a generous lover and my best friend. I loved you then, I love you now and I will love you forever, Jiyong. My lovely G-Dragon."

A lump formed in Jiyong's throat, tears in his eyes, his hands squeezing hers tightly. She squeezed back gently. "Any man who hears an angel profess her love for him as you've done for me is a blessed man. I am not worthy of your love because I'm so far from the perfection you deserve. You make my heart sing in my chest, the constant rattle of beat and lyric within my mind go silent, my whole world come to a halt when I'm lucky enough to be your audience. You've made all of my success possible - without you, I would have no grounding, no direction, no muse. I'm not the best man in this world, certainly not one who has a right to be here, but there is nothing I will not do to earn this." She looked almost ready to object, but he smiled brightly and squeezed her hands again. "You've given me all of your love so freely. I get to bask in not only your kindness and friendship, but get sole access to you as a lover. You've given me all that you are, entrusted your heart to me, so easily and it is only right that I give you just as much. You're my best friend, my confidant, my . . . my wife. I love you more than I can ever write down, with more passion than I've ever thrown into my work. You're my soulmate, Yongbae. My shining Taeyang."

As if unwillng to break the awed silence from the audience, the pastor's voice was very soft when he spoke again. "With those vows between you and the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Jiyong's hand was shaking as he lifted his hand up to cup her cheek, bringing her face forwards without his own consent. Their lips touched in perhaps the most gentle kiss they'd ever shared. They held it there for a long moment, the action all the more intense for its chaste nature.

"I can't believe you're finally mine." He whispered, heedless of the erupting cheers around them. She lit up, grinning brightly at him.

"I've always been yours."

He didn't know if he would ever be able to let her know how much she meant to him, to finally tell her how much he loved her, but he hoped this was a decent starting place.