Namjoon’s earliest memory is of his mother leaning over him in bed to kiss him goodnight. As she presses her soft lips to his forehead, her dark hair falls across his cheeks and tickles him. He giggles, the happy, high-pitched laugh of a small child. She reaches to the side to flip off the light, and Namjoon lifts his hands to his face to remove his glasses.

“Ah ah ah,” his mother admonishes, “remember you need to leave those on sweetheart.”

“But why?” Namjoon whines. The glasses are uncomfortable. When he rolls on his side they push painfully into the bridge of his nose, and when he sleeps on his stomach he wakes up with smudges all over the lenses where they’ve been pressed against his eyelids. Namjoon’s mother sighs as if this is a conversation they’ve had hundreds of times.

“Because if you wake up and need to potty, you’ll need them to find your way down the hall.” Namjoon is only three. He has to trust his mother’s logic, even if it makes no sense to him. He nods and yawns sleepily and tells his mother goodnight as his eyes slip closed behind heavy black frames and thick lenses.

It becomes habit after a while, sleeping in his glasses. At ten years old, his mother has come up with a new reason why he can’t take them off.

“Joon-ah, what would happen if the house caught fire? How would you see to get out?” After this conversation Namjoon obsesses over fire safety, regularly checking smoke alarms and window locks throughout the house just in case.

Namjoon is 17 when he goes away to college. The night before the whole family is to make the drive to see him off his mother has a very serious chat with him. It’s different from his father’s very serious chat which had consisted of his father warning him of the dangers of drinking, drugs, and .

“Don’t give in to peer pressure, Namjoon. Keep your head down and study hard. I know you’ll make us proud.”

No, Namjoon’s mother’s chat is very different, and it leaves him feeling puzzled.

“You’re a special boy,” she says. “You’re smart and talented and handsome, but you’re so much more than that.” It’s a lovely speech and Namjoon can hear pride in his mother’s voice as she speaks, but her final sentence is what throws him off. “Joon-ah, remember to never take off your glasses. You’ll need them now more than ever.”

Namjoon wants to ask his mother what she means, but she’s raised up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and he thinks maybe now is not the time.

The first weeks of college Namjoon is swamped with unpacking, classes, and homework. He frequently falls asleep in the middle of studying. When he wakes he finds ink on his face and drool on his textbooks. His roommate is rarely there, spending most of his nights at his girlfriend’s off-campus apartment, but he usually shows up in the mornings to change his clothes and grab his books before class.

It’s a morning about three weeks after the start of school when Namjoon wakes to the feeling of something sliding off of his face. In his half-awake panic he slaps his own face to push the glasses back up the bridge of his nose only to find a hand in the way.

Yoongi immediately releases the glasses, sputtering, “Whoa, roomie. Chill out. You fell asleep studying again. I was just trying to help you sleep more comfortably.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine, I’m okay,” Namjoon gasps for breath and tries to calm his racing heart. “I just, it’s fine. I usually don’t take them off anyway.”

His roommate shrugs as he turns away and mutters, “Whatever makes you happy.”

When Namjoon finally rubs the sleep from his eyes and stands up to stretch Yoongi is packing an overnight bag. He doesn’t even bother to fold most of the clothes, balling them up and throwing them in the bag until it’s overflowing and impossible to close. He groans and starts over, stacking shirts and boxers on the bed and folding a pair of lounge pants.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m uh… spending the weekend at Caradwyn’s.” Yoongi looks almost embarrassed, and Namjoon isn’t sure why until he remembers that Yoongi’s girlfriend’s name is… was…

“What happened to Annabelle?”

“She uh,” Yoongi clears his throat and when he speaks again his voice is much softer, “she found out about Caradwyn.”

“You have no shame,” Namjoon chuckles as he shakes his head. Yoongi just shrugs again and begins repacking the bag.

“Anyway, you’ll have the room to yourself for a few days. Try not to spend the whole time with your nose in a book.” Yoongi zips the overnight bag and slings his backpack over his shoulder. “Go out or something. You’re starting to look kinda sickly pale.”

Namjoon snorts. “Pot, kettle, black,” he says.

“Shut up. I’m serious though. Get out of the dorm for a while. And Namjoon,” Yoongi waits for Namjoon to make eye contact, “sleep in the bed, okay?”

Get out of the dorm. Easier said than done, Namjoon thinks. He doesn’t like crowds. It makes him uncomfortable when strangers try to start a conversation with him. Namjoon has no patience for people who meander slowly down the sidewalk or take too long to order their coffee. If actual human interaction weren’t necessary Namjoon would probably spend a lot more time away from his room, but Namjoon isn’t that lucky.

It’s not that Namjoon hates all people. He likes specific people; it’s society as a whole he can’t deal with, and for this reason he questions his own sanity when he finds himself sitting alone at a small table in a tiny cafe, his books and papers spread out in front of him and taking up every inch of space except where a square plate holds his untouched turkey sandwich.

All he is doing is taking Yoongi’s advice, and it’s landed him in an awkward situation with a tall boy with pumpkin colored hair and a blinding smile asking if the seat across from him is taken. He assumes the boy needs the chair to join another table, but when he shakes his head to indicate it’s free, the boy drops into the chair and leans his elbows all over Namjoon’s schoolwork.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“Oh! Sorry.” The boy pulls his arms back immediately, and his smile only wavers for a second before he reaches out a hand for Namjoon to shake with a confident, “Taehyung. Nice to meet you…”

Namjoon stares at the hand like it might bite him. He’s pretty sure he would flinch if Taehyung it any closer, but thankfully he doesn’t. “Namjoon,” he says as he continues to eye the hand like some kind of dangerous wild animal. Taehyung retracts his arm, running his fingers through his hair shyly.

“What are you studying?” Namjoon knows his expression is disinterested at best, but Taehyung is undeterred, still smiling. The longer Namjoon watches the boy smile and wait, the more his resolve crumbles, until finally he breaks down and answers.

“Sociology. I have to write a speech for next week.”

“Cool!” Taehyung exclaims, and his eyes crinkle at the sides when his smile widens.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. He’s a freshman. He’s probably the most freshman of all freshmen, younger than most of his classmates and so devoted to his schoolwork that he has no social life whatsoever. His glasses and fashion sense scream ‘nerd’ to anyone who sees him, so why does this kid seem even less mature than Namjoon?

“Are you still in high school?” Taehyung’s eyes nearly disappear into tiny crescents as he nods furiously.

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Namjoon mutters dryly. “Look man, I’m kinda busy working on this, so if you don’t mind…”

“Oh, yeah! I don’t mind. Go ahead and work.”

Namjoon expects Taehyung to leave, to join his friends, find an empty table (of which there are plenty), or just go order something since he arrived at the table empty-handed, but he doesn’t budge. He sits there across the table, quietly but still far too loud for Namjoon’s concentration. He sits and studies Namjoon. He sits and reads Namjoon’s notes upside down. He sits and breathes and fidgets and makes soft noises as he rearranges his position in his chair and leans forward to see better and just makes himself the biggest distraction Namjoon could ever have imagined.

Thirty minutes and literally only one sentence worth of progress later Namjoon begins to pack his things back into his backpack.

“Hey, you didn’t finish your work,” Taehyung says with a distinctly pouty voice, and Namjoon refuses to look at him because he knows that smile will have been replaced with a slight frown and concerned eyes just based on the way the kid sounds.

“I have to go.” Namjoon shuffles papers into a messy pile and shoves them into a folder.

“But you didn’t even eat,” Taehyung whines.

Namjoon eyes the sandwich, debates asking for a box, but ultimately decides it really is time to leave. “You can have it,” he tells Taehyung, and he’s slipping his arms through the straps of his backpack as he begins to walk away.

“Wait!” Taehyung calls, standing from the table and moving to block Namjoon’s escape, but there’s a chair in the way and he trips, stumbling forward and down to the ground at Namjoon’s feet. If Namjoon had been paying more attention, if he hadn’t been trying so hard to just get away from Taehyung, if he had been anyone other than his clumsy self, he might have noticed the boy landing in front of him and stopped, waited, stepped over him, anything besides plowing forward and tumbling to the tile face first.

“Ouch,” Namjoon groans, his nose still pressed into the floor and feet tangled in Taehyung’s ridiculously long arms. He tries to plant his hands under his shoulders to push himself up, but Taehyung is moving too, lifting Namjoon’s feet and shoving them off of his chest, causing Namjoon’s knee to crack against the floor. This is it, the end of his short thread of patience. Namjoon finally loses it.

“Jesus, Taehyung! Would you stop moving and let me get up first!” he yells, and Taehyung winces. He stills completely and Namjoon feels bad, horrible. He feels like a monster. What did the kid do wrong besides try to make friends with the wrong person? “I’m sorry,” he immediately backpedals. “I’m not really a people person, and you’ve been in my space for like the last hour. I shouldn’t have yelled. This wasn’t your fault.”

Taehyung’s giant rectangular grin returns in full force, mouthful of teeth on display, and Namjoon can’t help wishing he could be so positive. He offers Taehyung a hand up, becoming a little flustered when the kid stands so fast he falls into Namjoon’s chest, and even more so when he furrows his brows and tilts his head to the side, studying Namjoon’s face.

“What is it? Did I get something on me?”

“No,” Taehyung chuckles, his voice unreasonably deep for someone so young, and runs his finger down the bridge of Namjoon’s nose, “you just look better without those glasses. Have you ever considered contacts?”

Namjoon has probably never run so hard or so fast in his life. After finally getting a grip on what Taehyung said, he panics, frantically searching the floor for his glasses and trying to shove them back onto his face, only for them to fall apart in his hands. The frames are cracked, one lens busted and the other dropping right out of the frame and into his fingers.

“I have to go,” he breathes, and in the next second he’s turning on his heel, heading toward the door at a jog and breaking into a run once he reaches the sidewalk. He can hear Taehyung calling after him, asking if he’ll see him again and why Namjoon didn’t give him his number, but he doesn’t have time to answer. The dorm isn’t far, and Namjoon wants to be safe at home before he calls his mother.

His backpack is dropped at the door, his shoes kicked off nearby, and by the time he reaches his bed he’s already dialed the phone and has it pressed to his ear, listening to it ring, and ring, and ring… and ring before her voicemail tells him to leave a message and she’ll return his call as soon as she can. He rakes his fingers through his hair. It won’t be long before his panic turns to full-on hysteria.

“Mom? Mom, I need your help. Please call me back soon. I love you, Mom.” When he hangs up, he makes sure to turn the volume all the way up so he won’t miss it when she calls back. Phone tag is one of his least favorite games.

Namjoon thinks he may as well see if he can fix his glasses while he waits. If he can get them back together, at least enough so that he can see to function, then he can wear them while his mother has a new pair made for him. That would be manageable.

He moves to his desk and finds a tube of glue that Yoongi had used to reassemble a picture frame the week before, then he arranges the pieces in front of him like a puzzle. One arm is snapped below the hinge, and he carefully glues it back onto the frame. He places the lost lens back into position and adds some more glue to hold it in, but when he finally takes a good look at the other lens he realises his efforts have been in vain. Even if he manages to make the glasses wearable, he’ll never be able to see with the left lens in pieces inside the frame.

A low growl erupts in his chest, quickly giving way to a sob of frustration. One sob turns into two, turns into a handful, until he’s burying face in his pillow and crying like a baby. He’s turning 18 in a few days. He can’t decide if this is his last opportunity to have a childish breakdown or if he should it up and be the mature adult he almost is.

After several more minutes of tears and thoughts of his parents’ disappointment when they find out that he broke his glasses, that he cried over it, that he can’t seem to stop crying over it, Namjoon forcibly calms his breathing and wipes his tears as his sobs turn to sniffles. He looks back over at the desk and wonders how he ever thought he could fix those glasses. Even blind as a bat he can see that they’re broken beyond repair, but then it hits him: He can see the glasses.

He can see every crack and scratch on the lenses, every drop of misplaced glue on the frames. He looks around the dorm and realises he can see everything. The posters on the wall are clear, each detail standing out. He can even read the spine of Yoongi’s Music Theory textbook all the way over on the other bed.

He can see just fine, and if he can see… why does he need the glasses?

Sudden exhaustion overtakes Namjoon. Maybe it’s from crying or from too much socializing (Taehyung really is a lot to handle, even if he was trying to be quiet). It could be the stress of breaking his precious glasses or finding out he never needed them in the first place. It could be any of those things or any combination of them, but all Namjoon knows is that his eyelids are drooping and his head feels heavy, like his neck can’t hold the weight. He gives in, lies back on the pillow, and falls asleep.

“Chosen One.”

It’s a whisper, barely there, just a breath against his ear, and Namjoon thinks he’s dreaming. He rolls over until he’s face down with his shoulder pressed against the wall, and he hears it again, louder but still a whisper and closer.

“Wake up, Chosen One.”

The words don’t even sound like they’re coming from the room. It’s almost like he’s hearing them inside his head. It must be a dream, has to be. He turns to his back, restlessly flailing his arms and legs until they’re comfortable.

“Chosen One, he is coming for you. You must wake up.”

Something touches Namjoon’s face, glides across it, slides down his neck, and he raises a sleepy hand to swipe it away only to find there’s nothing there. Irritated, he rolls to his side once more, but the voice returns, more insistent, demanding even. It’s raspy in his ear as though it’s coming from lips that haven’t spoken words aloud in far too long.

“It is time. Wake up, Chosen One. Wake up. Now!”

A loud, percussive noise, a snap or clap, finally pulls him to consciousness. Namjoon’s eyes fly open as he sits up and swings his feet to the floor. His pulse is pounding in his ears, his breathing ragged as he stands. Now that Namjoon is awake everything seems much less dream-like, more scary. Didn’t the voice say someone was coming for him? He scans the tiny room, from the door to Yoongi’s bed and finally to the desk, in search of the source of the noise or the voice, but he finds nothing.

His mind races as he sits back on the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Namjoon’s heart slows back to normal, but his brain continues to attempt to work out what the dream means. It had to be a dream, right? There’s no one else in the room so it must’ve been a dream .

Shaking his head, Namjoon chooses to let it go, or at least try to. He feels around the bed behind him in search of his phone and comes in contact with something he’s sure wasn’t there before. Denim and leather, not warm like if a person were wearing them but still solid like a body, and when Namjoon tentatively slides his hand back further he hears a low chuckle.

He springs from the bed before he even knows what he’s doing, diving for the door, but when he tries to open it he finds it locked. No matter how hard he turns the knob or pulls at it the door doesn’t give. Namjoon begins to cry, inhaling rapid, shallow breaths as he slides to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest and tucking his head down, his hands covering his neck protectively.

“Oh, come now. I am not that frightening, am I?”

The voice is smooth as silk and slithers under Namjoon’s skin and into his ear in the most terrifyingly intoxicating way. Despite his fear he lifts his eyes to see the source, a tall young man with hair darker than the night sky and equally dark eyes, dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket. A dangerous smirk quirks his lips around unfairly cute bunny teeth, and his puffy little cheeks make him look younger than he sounds.

“Do not worry. I am not going to hurt you,” he coos soothingly, but Namjoon notices the evil glint in the man’s eyes and an even more devilish grin than before spreads across his face as he adds, “yet.”

“Wh-who are you?” Namjoon asks, his voice trembling, but before the man can answer a blinding light floods the room. Namjoon covers his eyes and ducks his head back down to his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible.

He wonders how many questions can run through his mind at one time. What is that light? Who is that man? How did he get in the room? What woke him up? Where did that other voice come from? Is he losing his mind? Namjoon wants answers, but more than that he wants to wake up from this nightmare before his heart stops from fear.

Adjusting so he can cover his eyes with just one hand, he pinches at his thigh frantically, mumbling, “Wake up, wake up, wake up !” under his breath. He can hear shuffling and growling, and an inhuman shriek that rattles his bones and makes him clench his jaw, and he raises his shoulders to try to block the sound from reaching his ears. It’s not as good as a mute button, but it’s enough. His heartbeat calms from frantic to excited, and he is no longer lightheaded from hyperventilating. When the rush of blood in his ears dies down Namjoon is startled by the silence in the room.

A soft, cool hand caresses Namjoon’s neck, long, slender fingers threading into the short hair at the back of his head. He sighs as tension drains away, feeling it washing down from his head and leaking out through his fingertips and his toes. Somewhere in the back of his mind Namjoon knows he should be afraid, that this isn’t normal. It’s not just the strangers in his dorm, but also his extreme apathy toward the situation.

“There,” the raspy voice returns to his ears, “that is better, is it not?”

“Mmm,” Namjoon agrees, and then whines when the fingers slip through his hair one more time before disappearing. He isn’t ready for the comforting touch to end.

“Chosen One,” the voice calls him, and finally he lifts his head and opens his eyes. “There you are,” he says when Namjoon finally focuses on him, and he is crouched down in front of Namjoon, balanced on his feet in a way Namjoon could never manage. The man’s face is warm, all gentle curves and a sharp jaw with smooth skin and deep brown eyes that glitter with hope and peace and sincerity. It’s like everything good in the world is held within those orbs, and Namjoon knows instinctively that he can trust this man. “Hoseok.”

Namjoon tilts his head and his mouth falls open in confusion. “I’m sorry?” The man chuckles, and it’s just as raspy but somehow still pleasant.

“I am Hoseok, Chosen One.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? My name is-”

“Namjoon is the name your parents gave you. Namjoon is only a name. Chosen One is a title.”

Hoseok stands and offers Namjoon his hand, pulling him up from the floor and guiding him back to the bed. Namjoon isn’t trembling in fear anymore, but his whole body feels weak. His legs wobble a bit as he walks, and he finds it difficult to grip Hoseok’s hand. He’s struck once again by how soft the hand is, every touch so gentle.

It’s several minutes before Namjoon is truly stable again, several minutes of Hoseok studying Namjoon and Namjoon fidgeting under Hoseok’s gaze. It’s Hoseok who breaks the silence, with a firm, “Yes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, I saved your life.” Namjoon blinks at him. He’s not sure if he’s speaking his thoughts aloud now or if Hoseok is reading his mind. Most of his questions haven’t been answered, but that one had definitely been swirling around with all the others.

“That man was going to hurt me. He said so.” Hoseok nods. “But you stopped him. You saved my life.” Another nod, and it’s clear Hoseok is patiently waiting for Namjoon to work it out on his own. “You tried to warn me in my dream.”

“It was not a dream.”

“You woke me up.” It almost sounds like an accusation the way Namjoon says it, his confidence slowly building as he figures things out.

“You took your glasses off,” Hoseok counters, and Namjoon’s confidence wavers. This piece is from a different puzzle. It doesn’t fit here no matter which direction Namjoon turns it.

“I… had no choice?” It’s true, but it still sounds like a question. “They broke. I can’t wear them broken like that.”

“I am not scolding you, Chosen One. You have been an obedient son. Your mother was right to protect you from the hidden dangers of the world, but you are grown now. It is time to wake up, open your eyes, and see.”

Namjoon’s head is spinning. Hoseok speaks in riddles he can’t decipher. Again, Hoseok is patient, but Namjoon is too confused to know which questions to ask, so instead he asks one that he hopes will cover everything.

“What is going on?”

Hoseok sighs, and for a moment Namjoon thinks he won’t answer because he presses his fingertips to his temples like he’s frustrated and this whole situation is giving him a headache. Namjoon wouldn’t be surprised if that were true. He would probably have a headache as well if Hoseok’s presence alone weren’t so peaceful.

After a deep breath Hoseok lowers himself to sit beside Namjoon on the bed. The bed doesn’t shift or creak under his weight and Namjoon wants to wonder why, but there are so many other, more important things he wants to know that he just buries it and hopes he remembers to ask later.

“For thousands of years darkness and light have been at war. Both sides wish to control Earth. Though the balance occasionally tilts in one direction or the other, the war is never-ending. Light and darkness are equally matched.

The war is not a physical one. There is no bloodshed between light and dark.

Beings of darkness, those like Jeongguk, the man who was here before, wish to corrupt all mortals. They quietly whisper in the ears of mortals day in and day out, words of temptation that will lead them to sin.

It is the duty of beings of light to guide a mortal away from these sinful temptations. As a dark being whispers into one ear, light takes his place at the other, reminding the mortal that his actions have consequences. If the mortal’s resolve wavers and he falls to sin, he is corrupted.

If you think of the war as an infinitely long series of small battles, each and every mortal is a single battle. Once a mortal has been corrupted, darkness has won the battle and light has lost.

Despite being evenly matched, light has a sort of safety net. Each generation a mortal is born, one who is more important than every other mortal on the planet. This mortal is the definition of purity and cannot be corrupted, and even if there is only one mortal left on Earth who has not been corrupted, darkness has not truly won… light always survives.

You may think this mortal is fortunate, that he can live in peace without the whispers others constantly hear tainting their thoughts. You would be wrong. This mortal is in constant danger. The only way for darkness to win the war is to eliminate this mortal, to kill him. Light has assigned a guard to protect this mortal, to defend him from the darkness. For several centuries now I have been a part of this guard, the guard to protect the Chosen One, the guard to protect you.”

Hoseok stops talking and waits for Namjoon’s brain to catch up. The silence stretches for several minutes before Namjoon arranges his thoughts enough to begin questioning Hoseok.

“So, I’m the only thing standing in the way of victory for the… darkness?”

“Yes.”

“And how long have you been protecting me?”

“Since your birth.”

“Then why have I never seen you before? Why have I never seen any of these dark beings?” If the dark beings are such a threat to Namjoon then why has he never noticed them lurking, waiting for the perfect moment of vulnerability to take care of him for good. It wouldn’t take much. Namjoon is clumsy enough as it is. A little push while he’s standing at the top of the stairs would be enough to get rid of him.

“And why do you think you are so clumsy, Namjoon? Do you think you were just born with poor balance and the inability to control your own feet and hands?” Actually, yes. That’s exactly what Namjoon assumed, but…

“You didn’t answer my question.”

With a loud sigh Hoseok points to the desk and Namjoon’s glasses. “Did you not ever wonder why your mother is so insistent that you keep your glasses on day and night?”

Of course Namjoon wondered. The question plagues him, but it’s his mother. He’s supposed to trust her, does trust her, and he tells Hoseok this.

“As I have said, you are an obedient son, but now it is time for you to see the world as it is. Darkness and light surround you. It might feel frightening at first, but you must remember that I am here to protect you. In time you will learn how to avoid some of the dangers around you and how to ignore others. Lean on me and I will guide you.”

Hoseok sits up with Namjoon until the early hours of the morning. He answers Namjoon’s questions and explains things. His presence is welcome and wonderful, and Namjoon doesn’t ever want him to leave.

It’s not until Namjoon lets out a long yawn that he realizes just how tired he is. Hoseok brushes Namjoon’s hair out of his face with those gentle fingers and tells him that today’s lesson is over.

“You need rest, Chosen One. Sleep now.”

“But is it safe?” he questions through another yawn.

“To sleep? Of course. You are always safe as long as I am here.”

“And will you be here when I wake up?”

Hoseok’s smile is warm and radiant like sunshine as he answers, “I will always be here.”

Namjoon’s eyes are already closed, the pillow so soft it feels like his head is resting on a cloud, and Hoseok touches him. It’s nothing less than pure, a firm hand smoothing the wrinkles on the back of Namjoon’s shirt and then resting there between his shoulder blades to remind him that Hoseok isn’t going anywhere.

“Hoseok?” Namjoon can feel his consciousness slipping away, but he has one more question to ask before he falls asleep. He doesn’t want to forget before he wakes up.

“Mmm?”

“The boy I met today, Taehyung, is he corrupted?”

He can hear the smile in Hoseok’s voice even though it’s barely a whisper. “Taehyung is not and will not be.”

“But you said only the Chosen One can’t be corrupted. How can you be sure?”

“Because he is one of us, a being of light. His title is Love. His mission today was to remove the veil so that you could see. I would say the mission was successful, no?”

Namjoon might answer, but he can’t remember. Unable to fight it any longer, he allows himself to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It’s a combination of Hoseok whispering in his ear while brushing his fingers across his cheek and the sound of the door being opened that finally wakes Namjoon.

“No danger, only Yoongi, but do not be alarmed when you see the others.”

Before Namjoon can ask what others, Yoongi is walking across the room to flop down on his bed.

“Ugh, long weekend,” he moans into his pillow. Namjoon would normally ask if he enjoyed himself anyway, but he is currently busy trying to process that two more people entered the room behind Yoongi. He assumes these are the others that Hoseok mentioned.

“Seokjin,” Hoseok greets the taller of the two. He is blonde and absolutely perfect in every way from his pouty lips to his broad shoulders. Seokjin almost sparkles, reflecting every tiny bit of light in the room. He nods his own greeting, and then he notices Namjoon looking at him.

“The mortal can see us?” He seems annoyed, or maybe he’s just startled or confused.

“He can,” is all Hoseok says, all he needs to say for Seokjin to understand, and in the next second Seokjin is bowing deeply in front of Namjoon.

Turning to Hoseok with a frown, Namjoon hopes that he is correct in believing that Hoseok can read his thoughts because he doesn’t want his roommate thinking he’s talking to himself. Hoseok’s lips are curled into an amused grin, and Namjoon is struck by his beauty once again.

“You are the Chosen One.” It’s Seokjin who speaks, his body still bent into a bow.

“You do not need to bow to him, Seokjin. He does not wish to be worshiped.” Seokjin straightens with a flustered expression and his hair a bit ruffled.

“It is an honor,” he says, but he’s distracted by something happening over by the bed. When Namjoon turns back to Yoongi he sees why.

The other stranger has draped himself across Yoongi’s back, his silver hair brushing against Yoongi’s cheek as he leans close to whisper in Yoongi’s ear. Namjoon can’t hear the words, but Hoseok can, and Namjoon recognizes the growl that rumbles in his chest from their encounter with Jeongguk the previous evening. Hoseok, his protector, is on alert.

“Seokjin,” he spits, “get over there and do your job before Jimin succeeds in convincing the Chosen One’s roommate to kill him.”

The other man, Jimin, detaches himself from Yoongi’s back long enough for him to roll over, but then he’s back on him, curling into his side and nosing at his ear as a finger traces his collar bones. Yoongi throws an arm over his face, grumbling something about never drinking Everclear again, and Jimin giggles.

“Yoongi!” Seokjin yells, startling Namjoon and making him flinch. “You have homework. Get up and get to work!”

This isn’t exactly what Namjoon had pictured when Hoseok said dark and light whisper into mortals’ ears. This isn’t whispering. This is screaming, but it seems that this is what it takes to drag Yoongi from Jimin’s hold because he hauls himself off the bed with a groan and begins arranging books on his side of the desk.

Namjoon doesn’t realize he’s staring until Yoongi clears his throat and asks, “Are you gonna sit there and watch me work all day or what?” Truthfully, he isn’t even staring at Yoongi. Jimin is much more interesting with his teasing hands and playful smiles.

Jimin makes a noise near Yoongi’s ear that sounds a lot like purring and trails kisses down his neck until Yoongi stands up and gives Namjoon a disoriented look.

“I’m hungry,” he declares. “Wanna go grab lunch?”

Before Namjoon can even consider the question Seokjin is scolding Yoongi.

“Sit down and do not leave that desk until your music history report is completed.”

“Ah, forget it. I’ll find something to eat when I finish my report. Feel free to go without me though.”

Namjoon blinks as he watches Yoongi sit back down at the desk and turns to Hoseok with a bewildered expression.

“We can go somewhere else to talk if you would like,” Hoseok offers, and laughs at the question on the tip of Namjoon’s tongue. “No, Yoongi cannot see me now, but any mortal can if I choose to make myself visible. We can have a relatively normal conversation in the presence of other people, although if someone were to eavesdrop it might not sound so normal.”

With a nod Namjoon turns back to Yoongi to let him know he’s going out, but Jimin has taken yet another intimate position on Yoongi’s lap with his lips touching nearly every inch of exposed skin between soft murmurs in Yoongi’s ear. The way the dark being curls around Yoongi any time he’s not moving is starting to make Namjoon uncomfortable, and he decides to just leave with a mumbled, “I’ll be back.”

“It is not always like that,” Hoseok assures Namjoon as they leave the room. “Jimin is a bit… eccentric. He is quite persuasive though. Seokjin is one of our best and most experienced, and even he sometimes cannot reverse the damage Jimin causes.”

“But is Yoongi in any danger? Can Jimin hurt him?”

“Did it look like Yoongi was suffering?” Hoseok teases, and now that Namjoon thinks on it, Yoongi did look pretty comfortable. “Do not worry. Seokjin will protect your friend as I protect you.”

“Did you say Jimin was telling him to kill me? What happens if Jimin corrupts him and he actually does try to kill me?”

Hoseok lowers his voice as they enter a burger joint not far from Namjoon’s dorm. “Chosen One, I would never let that happen. My entire existence revolves around defending you.”

“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about Yoongi. He could end up in prison or-”

“How can I help you,” the cashier interrupts Namjoon, and Hoseok waits patiently while Namjoon orders and pays. When they are finally seated in a corner by the window Hoseok responds to Namjoon’s question.

“Put your faith in light, Chosen One. Seokjin will not allow harm to come to Yoongi.”

Namjoon trusts Hoseok, believes that if Hoseok tells him that Yoongi will be safe, then Yoongi will be safe, but he’s still curious. What does it feel like when Jimin touches Yoongi? Can he even feel it? Does he hear actual words, like when Hoseok speaks to Namjoon?

Hoseok allows Namjoon to ask whatever he wants. He patiently explains how things work, how Yoongi can sense Jimin’s presence, but his touch feels like cool air caressing his skin and his words manifest as his own thoughts.

“When Seokjin speaks to him it is only to remind him of things he already knows. So when Seokjin tells him that he needs to do his homework what he experiences is his brain remembering that he has homework and that there is a deadline and there are consequences for not meeting that deadline. Each reminder from Seokjin reinforces Yoongi’s morality. He becomes more and more capable of resisting Jimin’s temptations every time Seokjin speaks to him.” Almost as an afterthought Hoseok adds, “Yoongi is strong, Namjoon. Seokjin has done well. It may have appeared that Jimin could easily convince Yoongi to sin, but Jimin was using every trick in his bag and Seokjin barely had to lift a finger to prevent Yoongi from falling to temptation.”

Namjoon is quiet as he eats his food. He tries to absorb all of the information, to commit it to memory, but something keeps spinning in the front of his mind and distracting him.

“You called me Namjoon,” he says. His voice is so low he’s not sure anyone else would have been able to hear it, but Hoseok hears everything. His eyes light up as his lips stretch into a fond smile.

“Would you prefer that I call you Namjoon? Does it make you more comfortable?”

“It sounds pretty when you say it. I never thought my name could sound so nice.” Hoseok’s laugh is pretty too, unbridled and honest.

“Namjoon it is,” Hoseok says when he calms down. “You know, Love prefers Taehyung.”

“Mmm,” Namjoon hums, “but Love suits him so well. Do you think he would mind if I called him Love?”

That same laugh bubbles up from Hoseok’s throat as he shakes his head. “No, he would not mind at all. After your last encounter I think he would be thankful you were speaking to him at all.”

“I don’t handle strangers well,” Namjoon frowns, “and he comes on a little strong. He’s like a hyperactive kid, isn’t he? How old is he anyway?”

Hoseok taps his chin as he calculates in his head. “He has existed for 3,285 years, give or take a century, but Love is full of childish curiosity and excitement. He will always be young.”

“Will I see him again?”

“Yes. Love is quite taken with you. He will seek you out when he has the time.”

Namjoon’s heart swells with affection for Taehyung. He hopes Hoseok is right.

“Will you reveal yourself to Yoongi?” Namjoon asks as they walk back to the dorm. It’s one of the questions that has been weighing heavily on his mind.

“If you wish for me to, yes.”

“I don’t think so,” he admits. Namjoon feels possessive of Hoseok. He wants to keep him to himself, at least for a little while longer. “Can you hear my thoughts?”

Hoseok shoots a grin at Namjoon, and it’s probably the most wicked look Hoseok is capable of giving. “I can hear most of them. Is that how you would like to communicate from now on?”

“No, just in front of Yoongi. I don’t want him thinking I’m going crazy talking to myself.”

“Of course.”

Thank you, Namjoon thinks, just to be sure it works before they walk into the room.

Hoseok turns to him with a proud look on his face as he says, “You are welcome, Namjoon,” and it sounds just as wonderful from Hoseok’s lips as it did the last time, like the sweetest music ever played. It makes Namjoon’s heart race and his head spin, and somehow Namjoon knows he will always feel this way when Hoseok speaks his name.

Weeks pass, and Hoseok never leaves Namjoon’s side. He walks Namjoon to classes, waits patiently in the back of the lecture hall for him, and even keeps him company while he does his homework. Namjoon wonders how he ever lived without Hoseok.

It’s almost a month before Jeongguk shows his face again, and Namjoon discovers exactly how Hoseok protects him. Hoseok explains that only beings of light who are part of the Chosen One’s guard are permitted to use violence against beings of darkness, and then only in defense of the Chosen One. When Jeongguk launches himself at Hoseok, taking the form of a tiger and swiping his claws at Hoseok’s face, Hoseok drops to the floor and becomes a snake, hissing and snapping his venomous fangs at the tiger until he retreats.

“This was only a mild attack, Namjoon,” Hoseok warns. “Jeongguk is ancient and powerful. He will return, and when he does it will be much worse. His only mission for centuries has been to eliminate the Chosen One, and time after time he has failed. He is angry, and he carries a grudge against me.”

“Can he hurt you?”

“He can, but he cannot eliminate me. He only knows that he must go through me to get to you. If he can incapacitate me, you will be vulnerable. He will not hesitate to do as much damage as possible to me to prevent me from protecting you.”

Namjoon sits on the bed with his head down, watching his own fingers twist together in worry. “I’m scared,” he confesses.

“There is no need to fear Jeongguk. I will protect you.”

“I know, that’s what scares me. I don’t want you to get hurt, Hoseok.”

Hoseok gives him a soft, reassuring smile and promises that nothing will happen to him. “I have been doing this for a very long time, Namjoon. You have nothing to worry about. I cannot die and I do not scar.” He lifts his fluffy, green sweater to show a wide expanse of smooth caramel skin on his back. “Three generations ago Jeongguk caught me unaware. His form at the time was that of a bear, and he sliced through my back with his claws. But look for yourself, there is no mark.”

He is looking, but not for a scar. Namjoon is watching Hoseok’s muscles flex as he twists so he can see Namjoon’s face. “How fast do you heal?” he asks to distract himself.

“Not instantly, but much more quickly than you would. I am also able to continue fighting through almost anything. I do not feel pain the same way you do.”

Do you feel other things like I do?

“Namjoon,” Hoseok gives him a look, like it’s the most scandalous thing any mortal has ever said to him, even if it wasn’t voiced aloud, “I think you’ve been spending too much time watching Jimin with Yoongi.”

No, he thinks. If that were the case I would simply touch you.

Hoseok laughs at this and the tension of the moment is broken. Namjoon feels embarrassed, but Hoseok assures him he doesn’t mind.

“It is perfectly normal to have these thoughts about me. I am beautiful, after all,” he brags, and Namjoon tackles him to the bed and falls into a fit of laughter that only dies down when his stomach is sore and he can’t catch his breath.

As Hoseok had predicted, the next time Jeongguk appears is much worse. He creeps into the dorm as a mouse while Namjoon sleeps, and by the time they notice him he has transformed into a large wolf. Hoseok takes several bites to his arms and chest before he manages to change his own form to that of a jaguar. One swing of his massive paw at Jeongguk’s neck has the dark being turning tail, but Hoseok is bleeding and Namjoon doesn’t know what to do.

“Call... for Love,” Hoseok speaks through heaving breaths. “He can… heal me.”

“Love,” Namjoon cries, and Taehyung answers, approaching them from the corner of the room as if he’s been there all along just waiting for the call.

Hoseok gives a weak smile as his greeting, and Taehyung places his hand on Hoseok’s forehead. Within seconds Hoseok’s body goes slack against Namjoon, and he panics until Taehyung touches his hand as well. He feels Hoseok’s energy flow through Taehyung’s body and into his own. Namjoon relaxes immediately, his mind filled with soothing thoughts from both Taehyung and Hoseok, and he allows wave after wave of peace to wash over him as he holds Hoseok while Taehyung does his work.

“I’ve done everything I can,” Taehyung speaks after what Namjoon feels is a lifetime. “The rest is up to Hoseok, but he’s already mostly healed. He should wake up soon.” Namjoon nods and whispers his thanks to Taehyung. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Only if you want to.”

Taehyung steals Yoongi’s pillow and settles himself beside Namjoon. They sit in silence for several minutes before Taehyung eventually breaks it.

“I can feel it, you know.” Namjoon gives him a blank look. “Don’t play dumb with me, Namjoon. What is my title? Don’t you think Love recognizes love when he sees it?”

Namjoon stays silent as he indulges himself, touching Hoseok as much as possible before he wakes up. He sweeps Hoseok’s soft, brown fringe away from his forehead and lets his fingers trail up and down Hoseok’s neck. Finally, Namjoon rests his hands on Hoseok’s shoulders and releases a tired breath as he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall.

Long fingers intertwine with Namjoon’s. He lifts his eyes to meet Taehyung’s gaze and finds his smile is softer than usual, and when he speaks his voice is hushed.

“Stay still. I want to show you something.” Namjoon feels Taehyung’s hand slide up his arm and across his shoulder, continuing along his neck and jaw and only stopping when he reaches Namjoon’s cheek, curling his fingers to gently cup Namjoon’s face. “Close your eyes.” Namjoon obeys, and his mind is supplied a series of sensations.

He sees himself, his lips, plump and soft and stretched into a smile. He sees his eyes, crinkling at the corners, twinkling in the light. He hears his own voice, deep and rich and smooth, and his carefree laughter, but it’s what he feels that affects him most. Love. Pure, untainted love surges in his heart and pulses through his veins.

Taehyung’s hand leaves Namjoon’s face as he gasps, and even when he opens his eyes Taehyung’s expression is still so serene that it calms the storm of emotions within him.

“You’re worried about him,” Taehyung states rather than asks, “but I know he told you Jeongguk can’t kill him. Do you not believe him?”

“I do. I trust Hoseok. It’s not that I’m worried about losing him.” Namjoon pauses to arrange his thoughts, and Taehyung takes the opportunity to lean against him, resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulder and lacing their fingers together again. “I’m worried because… because my heart, it hurts when he hurts. I mean, it’s scary, yeah. If he were human he’d already be dead by now, right? I know he won’t die, but that doesn’t mean he’s not in pain.”

“There is a way to get rid of Jeongguk. It won’t kill him, but it would be like putting him in prison. He would be banished until the next Chosen One is born. The only problem is, Hoseok may not agree to it.”

“Why? Is it dangerous?”

“No, of course not, though it does take quite a bit of power. He’d need at least two other light beings to do it. It doesn’t guarantee your safety, but Jeongguk is one of the most powerful dark beings in existence, so whoever they choose to replace him is bound to be a lot safer to deal with than Jeongguk.”

“If I’d be safer and it’s not dangerous, then what’s stopping Hoseok from… banishing him or whatever?”

Hoseok shifts at the mention of his name, and Namjoon thinks he’ll probably be fully awake in the next few minutes.

“He’s Hoseok’s brother.” Namjoon gasps quietly but doesn’t interrupt. “You have a sister, Namjoon. If she were a dangerous dark being, would you be able to banish her?”

Namjoon thinks for a moment before shaking his head, “No. She’s my sister and I love her. She would have to do something really horrible for me to be able to do it.”

“Something like threatening the one thing you love more than you love her?” Taehyung asks, reaching down to run soft, cool fingers along Hoseok’s jaw.

“Yeah, that would probably do it.”

“Then we’ll have to make him understand just how much he loves you,” Taehyung reveals with a heavy sigh. If Namjoon hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, felt it in his own heart, he might have argued, but he can’t because he knows it’s true.

It takes three more attacks and another visit from Taehyung to heal Hoseok before Namjoon works up the nerve to talk to him about banishing Jeongguk. It’s another night when Yoongi is staying with his girlfriend, Namjoon doesn’t bother asking which one anymore, and he and Hoseok are curled up together on Namjoon’s bed.

Namjoon tucks his head under Hoseok’s chin and wraps his arm a little tighter around his waist as Hoseok threads his fingers through Namjoons hair.

“Hoseok?”

“Yes, Namjoon?” Namjoon shivers when Hoseok says his name and nuzzles into his chest a bit more.

“I know you can’t die, but what about Jeongguk? Is it possible for you to kill him, or is it all just an endless cycle of Jeongguk attacking and you defending me?”

“For the most part, yes. Jeongguk cannot die, but it is possible to banish him for a generation. There is a sort of limbo between Earth and the other realm, the realm where light and dark beings spend our time when we are not needed on Earth. There is a way to send Jeongguk to this limbo, but I would need help.”

Namjoon isn’t sure why, but he had half expected Hoseok to lie. It’s exactly what a human would do, but then he remembers that Hoseok is not human. Hoseok is honest and sincere; he would never lie to Namjoon.

“Would that make things safer for me, for the Chosen One? Would it make your job easier? Would it ensure that darkness couldn’t win the war, if only for one generation?”

“It would.”

“Have you ever done it before? Have you ever banished Jeongguk?”

“I have not.”

“Why not?”

Namjoon’s head rises and falls along with Hoseok’s chest in a heavy sigh. He feels like a burden, like everything would be easier for Hoseok if he didn’t have to look after Namjoon. Now, not only is Namjoon suggesting that Hoseok might not be doing everything necessary to protect him, but he’s basically asking Hoseok to sacrifice his own brother for him.

“Is that what you think?” Namjoon lifts his head to look at Hoseok. “You think you are a burden to me? Namjoon, I would sacrifice my brother to protect you, but he is still my brother. Sending Jeongguk to limbo is a last resort. I am stronger than you give me credit for. Believe me when I say it is not yet the time to turn to desperate measures.” Hoseok rubs the pad of his thumb along Namjoon’s cheekbone and Namjoon closes his eyes as the coolness of the digit balances the warmth of the blush rising in his cheeks. “You could never be a burden to me. You are the whole purpose of my existence. Namjoon, even if you were not the Chosen One, I would still choose to be by your side.”

Namjoon shifts them so that they are laying on their sides, facing each other, and he leans his forehead against Hoseok’s. “Just tell me what I need to do when it is time for desperate measures.”

“Do the same as you do anytime I need assistance. Call for Love.”

Jeongguk is suspiciously absent over the next few weeks. The more time drags on without an attack, the more paranoid Namjoon becomes. Every noise makes him jump and after the second week he begins sleeping with the lights on and insisting that Hoseok never be more than a couple of feet away from him.

This last rule leads to the two of them sharing his bed more often than not, with Hoseok’s arms wrapped protectively around Namjoon until his fatigue gets the better of him. Namjoon is genuinely surprised each morning when he wakes up to sunshine and birds singing and Hoseok still holding him. Hoseok is patient as ever, allowing Namjoon to cling to him and be as needy as he feels is appropriate.

When they are nearing a month of peace Hoseok brings in Love. It’s a little awkward at first. Taehyung has no concept of personal space and is therefore constantly in Namjoon’s. He crawls into the tiny bed with them at night and shimmies up against Namjoon. He drapes himself over Namjoon’s shoulder while he does his schoolwork, breathing against the back of his neck. Hoseok explains that the closer Taehyung is, the better, but Namjoon isn’t sure this is what he means by close.

“If I know anything about my brother, it is that he would never waste time. He is preparing something significantly more dangerous than before. We need to be prepared as well.”

It’s not much longer after Taehyung joins them that Jeongguk finally finds them as they are walking home from Namjoon’s only evening lecture. The streets are nearly deserted thanks to the late hour and it’s dark out, but Namjoon always feels safe when he’s surrounded by Hoseok and Taehyung. With midterms coming up and his fear at an all time high Namjoon is just barely able to keep his eyes open some nights, leaving Taehyung to basically carry the conversation on his own, but tonight he’s been quiet, listening, observing their surroundings.

The silence is broken by a noise that is somewhere between a giggle and a chuckle and yet not entirely human sounding at all, and when Namjoon raises his gaze from the pavement he sees what looks like a dog or cat, the back legs shorter than the front and with a scruffy looking tail. It stalks toward them, head hunched down and moving slowly. Taehyung and Hoseok have some kind of discussion in their minds and Taehyung immediately moves in front of Namjoon, keeping a hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Is that Jeongguk?” Namjoon asks, and another strange laugh answers him, closer this time as the animal has crossed about half the distance that separated them. He watches as Hoseok transforms, his body shrinking in on itself, hands and feet becoming paws, until finally there’s only a small, fluffy fox in front of them covered in reddish fur.

Namjoon knows that foxes do not say ‘ring ding ding’ or anything like the song says, but he’s not expecting the sound that escapes from Hoseok’s fox form either. It sounds so human, like a scream of pain or terror, and it startles Namjoon, causing him to stumble backwards. Taehyung catches him, pulling on the wrist he was already holding and steadying him again before turning back to Hoseok and Jeongguk.

The other animal has stopped under a streetlight, pacing and glaring at the fox, and now Namjoon can see it has patchy, light brown fur with darker spots.

“He’s a hyena,” Taehyung supplies, and suddenly that strange laughing sound makes so much more sense.

“Is… is he dangerous?”

“He’s always dangerous, but yes. His jaw is incredibly powerful and his teeth are made to crush bone.” Taehyung glances back at Namjoon and finally seems to grasp how terrified he is. “But Hoseok is dangerous too. His jaw isn’t as strong, but his teeth are sharper and he’s fast and agile. Watch. You’ll see how this kind of fight works.”

Hoseok circles Jeongguk, the hyena turning a tight circle in the center of the lighted area, trying to keep his eye on the fox, when suddenly Hoseok darts back the other direction and snaps at Jeongguk’s backside before retreating quickly. The hyena is visibly frustrated at having been tricked by the fox, but he still falls for it again, and again.

As soon as Jeongguk picks up on Hoseok’s pattern Hoseok changes it up, and after nearly half an hour of what basically looks like two puppies playing with each other Jeongguk decides he’s had enough and lunges at Hoseok.

“It’s time. Stay here,” Taehyung says and releases Namjoon’s wrist to take his position. Seokjin appears from somewhere in the darkness and the two take cautious steps toward Jeongguk and Hoseok.

Hoseok does his part to keep Jeongguk distracted as Taehyung and Seokjin slowly close in on him. The fox stays on the far side of Jeongguk as much as possible and avoids any movements that would lure him out of the light.

Without warning, Hoseok shifts back to his human form, and Jeongguk is too startled by the change to take advantage of his vulnerability before the three beings of light join hands in a circle around him and begin chanting words that Namjoon doesn’t understand. The ground beneath Jeongguk begins to shake as he transforms to human form as well, screaming at Hoseok the whole time, yelling about betrayal and retribution as the pavement splits apart and he’s suspended in the light shining from the opening. His final shout of anger is cut off when he abruptly falls through the crack in the concrete. The sidewalk smooths over again and Jeongguk is gone.

Hoseok’s knees buckle as soon as Jeongguk disappears from sight. Taehyung is barely able to catch him before he drops to the ground, and Namjoon’s heart feels like it’s ripping in two when Hoseok cries. He looks so defeated, like it was Jeongguk who had won the battle and not himself.

Taehyung holds Hoseok and motions for Namjoon to join him.  They surround Hoseok, wrapping him up in their love and allowing him to grieve, and Taehyung even grieves with him, shedding a few tears for Jeongguk himself.

Namjoon’s tears fall for an entirely different reason. Since the first night Taehyung had come to heal Hoseok and given Namjoon a peek inside Hoseok’s mind he had felt a deep and powerful connection to the light being. Every time they touch he feels the bond grow and strengthen, their thoughts and feelings weaving together. By now Namjoon isn’t sure he can tell them apart. With every sob of sadness that wrenches itself from Hoseok’s chest, Namjoon releases one as well, and he endures Hoseok’s pain as if it were his own.

It seems like hours before Hoseok is finally able to breathe without weeping. Taehyung takes charge, guiding them back to Namjoon’s dorm and settling them in the bed. He covers them up and sits nearby, surprisingly quietly, while he traces the veins in Namjoon’s wrist and rubs circles in Hoseok’s back.

Namjoon tries to stay awake, to just… be there for Hoseok, but he feels himself drifting off. The last thing he hears before he slips away is Taehyung whispering to Hoseok that he did the right thing, that Namjoon is safe now, and that Jeongguk will return one day, and maybe things will be different when he does.

“He’s suffering,” Namjoon tells Taehyung, “and I don’t know how to help. Please, Love, isn’t there anything you can do?”

“I can only heal the physical vessel, Namjoon. I cannot mend his heart. Only time can do that.”

Hoseok is resting, not asleep, he never really sleeps, but lately he’s been lethargic. He doesn’t talk or joke with Namjoon anymore. He is there, but his mind is not. It’s locked up in his head, and Namjoon knows he has the key somewhere but he can’t seem to find it.

“How much time?” Namjoon asks, wincing as he feels a twinge in his heart. Hoseok is thinking of Jeongguk again. Namjoon is used to the steady ache, but the stabbing pains that come with the thought of Hoseok’s brother take him by surprise every time.

“I can’t answer that, Namjoon. You know that.”

“And I can’t watch him do this to himself. It hurts, so much. Does he know I can feel it?”

“He can read your thoughts. I’m sure he knows, but he doesn’t know how to sever the bond.” 
“What? Why would he sever the bond? I don’t want that. I want him to get better.”

Taehyung bites his lip, and Namjoon knows he has an idea. He also knows he won’t like it.

Namjoon stares at the box, brown cardboard sealed with clear packing tape, just a normal package, but its contents gives him pause.

“I will not be angry,” Hoseok says. His voice is flat, none of the usual vibrant warmth that Namjoon has grown accustomed to. He is sitting on the bed, watching Namjoon struggle to rally the courage to slice through the tape with the box cutter in his hand. It’s been over an hour since the package arrived, and still Namjoon can’t seem to do it. “I do not lie, Chosen One. It is my duty to protect you, and so I will stay. I will never abandon you, and I will not be angry. Just because you cannot see me does not mean I will not be here.”

Namjoon’s mother hadn’t even questioned his request when he called asking for a new pair of glasses. She promised she would have them shipped to him as soon as possible and a week later here he is staring at the box, too afraid to open it.

“Won’t you be lonely?” he asks. Hoseok sighs and approaches Namjoon. His hands brush against Namjoon’s neck before settling on his shoulders, and Namjoon wishes they were in his hair instead, or that Hoseok’s arms were wrapped around his neck. He wishes they could go back to how it was before… before Hoseok became broken and sad.

“I am more concerned that you will be lonely, but with Jeongguk…” he trails off and inhales a shuddering breath. Namjoon knows he won’t complete the sentence.

“Gone,” he finishes it for him.

“Yes, that… The danger is less now. It will not hurt for you to go back to the way things were. You can make friends, mortal friends, and enjoy your life without fear.”

“I don’t want mortal friends, Hoseok. I want you, but it breaks my heart to see you like this. I can’t bear to watch you suffer.” Namjoon’s voice cracks on the last word, and tears spill over his eyelashes and down his cheeks.

“Come, Namjoon,” Hoseok insists, pulling him up from the chair and into his arms, and Namjoon is broken all the more by the fact that Hoseok uses his name instead of his title. He cries into Hoseok’s shoulder until his head aches and his throat is raw from sobbing, and when his breathing returns to normal Hoseok dries his tears and takes him to the bed to hold him some more.

“Hoseok, what happens if you need me to take them off again?”

“Then I will send Love. Surely you will not forget Taehyung.” Namjoon laughs, because no, he will never forget Taehyung.

“Hoseok, I…” Namjoon begins, but Hoseok distracts him by pressing his cool lips to Namjoon’s forehead. They linger there and Namjoon closes his eyes, absorbing every detail of the moment to preserve the memory forever. He can hear the whirring of the air conditioner and his heart pounding like a jackhammer, can smell Hoseok’s earthy scent and the fabric softener from the comforter beneath them. Hoseok’s lips are soft against his skin and too cold to pass for human, but it’s a pleasant contrast to Namjoon’s warmth.

“I know,” Hoseok says when he finally pulls back, and Namjoon buries his face in Hoseok’s neck. “I love you too, Namjoon.” He uses both hands to lift Namjoon’s head again. When Namjoon meets Hoseok’s eyes he sees the pain, the sadness, the agony, but also strength, and just like the first time they met those eyes are still full of love and hope and sincerity. Even the peace is still there, if slightly obscured. “My pain will heal. I will recover, do not worry. Now, open your package, Chosen One.”

Namjoon takes a shaky breath as he makes his way back to the desk and lifts the box cutter. Once Namjoon gets them out of the package they look just like normal glasses, with thick, rectangular frames and clear lenses, and Hoseok gives him a tiny smile when he holds them up.

“They will suit you. Go ahead, put them on.” One last time, Namjoon wraps his arms around Hoseok and listens to his comforting words in his ear. “I will always be here, always. If you ever doubt you need only remove them.”

When he is ready he releases Hoseok and takes a step back. “Promise me one more thing?”

“Anything.”

“When you recover, send Love, even if there’s no danger.”

Hoseok smiles. “Of course,” he agrees, and Namjoon lifts the glasses to his face before the smile can fade from Hoseok’s lips.

Immediately Hoseok’s form disappears from view. Namjoon knows that he can no longer hear him either, but when he takes a few steps toward the bed he smells grass and lilies and freshly turned earth and he knows. He knows Hoseok is still there and always will be.

“Hey,” Namjoon looks up from his salad when Yoongi reaches across the table to touch his hand, “you seem distracted. Is everything okay?” Namjoon gives him a tired smile and turns his hand over to hold Yoongi’s for just a moment, squeezing just before he lets go to communicate that he appreciates the concern.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

The past five years have been hard. Every day Namjoon has had to fight the urge to see Hoseok again. He knows he could, at any time, but he doesn’t think he would have the willpower to go back to living without him. He wants Hoseok to be ready before he takes his glasses off.

Yoongi is talking again, not to Namjoon, but he still feels like a bad friend for not paying attention. He also feels like a third wheel. Yoongi and his wife always insist that he’s not, that they enjoy his company, but his mind is rarely present when they’re together.

“What do you think, Namjoon?” Laurel asks, and this is just proof that all of his previous thoughts were correct because he has no idea what he’s being asked.

“Pardon?” She smiles, and damn if Yoongi didn’t pick one of the prettiest young ladies on the planet to marry. Her smile lights up her eyes and reminds Namjoon so much of Hoseok that for a moment Namjoon isn’t sure if he can handle this today.

“We were talking about planting some flowers in our window box,” she reminds him. “What do you think, tulips or daffodils?”

“I’m rather partial to lilies,” he answers, and Laurel immediately starts spouting information about different kinds of lilies and how pretty they are.

“Stargazers are my favorite, of course, and calla lilies, although they’re not really lilies at all.”

“They smell funny,” Yoongi complains, wrinkling his nose. Namjoon almost feels offended even though he knows he shouldn’t. There’s no way Yoongi could know that lilies are one of his favorite flowers because the scent reminds him of Hoseok. He sometimes thinks it’s almost a little cruel that the smell of lilies and grass and earth follows him everywhere he goes as a constant reminder that the one thing he loves most in the world is right there beside him but just out of reach.

Namjoon is actually paying attention to the conversation at the table now, and is so involved for once that he doesn’t notice the flash of pumpkin orange in the corner of his eye.

“Is this seat taken?” an impossibly low voice asks, and Namjoon jerks his head in the direction of the sound, looking up at a tall boy with tan skin and orange hair and the most beautiful rectangular grin Namjoon has ever had the pleasure to witness.

“Love,” he breathes, and tears well in his eyes as he realizes what Taehyung’s presence means. Either he’s in danger or, “Is it time?” Taehyung’s eyes disappear as his smile widens and he nods slowly. “I’m sorry, Yoongi, Laurel. I forgot I made plans with my friend today. You don’t mind if I leave early, do you?”

He’s already standing from his seat, placing his napkin on the table beside his uneaten salad, pulling a few bills out of his wallet to pay for his meal, when Yoongi says, “Uhhhh… what friend? We’re your only friends, man. I don’t mean to be rude but… yeah.” Yoongi looks from Namjoon to Taehyung in confusion, but of course Taehyung just holds out his hand to Yoongi the same way he had to Namjoon years ago.

“Taehyung, nice to meet you…” If Namjoon weren’t in such a hurry to leave he would find the situation amusing, the way Yoongi just stares at Taehyung’s outstretched hand with his jaw hanging open.

Impatience gets the better of Namjoon, and he gestures toward his friends with a hasty, “Yoongi, Laurel, let’s go,” before grabbing Taehyung’s hand himself and dragging him out of the restaurant.

As soon as his shoes hit the sidewalk Namjoon starts grilling Taehyung.

“He’s ready?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s… normal? He’s healed?”

“He is himself again, yes. I think the proper question might be, are you ready?”

Namjoon thinks he might fall over from excitement as his head bobs in a vigorous nod. “Yes, yes of course I’m ready.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Taehyung asks, and Namjoon would like to roll his eyes at him, but he’s too happy to even worry about Taehyung’s sass.

“I want to be home first.” Taehyung nods, but Namjoon is pretty sure he already knew the answer before he asked. When they arrive at Namjoon’s apartment, Taehyung hugs him tight and wishes him luck before telling him he’ll see him around, and Namjoon knows it’s the truth; Love couldn’t stay away from Namjoon if he tried.

He closes the door behind him and turns to face the room. His hands are shaking as he raises them to his face, and he takes a deep breath before sliding the glasses away from his eyes. The light is so much brighter without them, shining into every corner of the room, but Namjoon only sees the man standing directly in front of him.

“Welcome home,” Hoseok greets him with a smile, and Namjoon immediately notices how much he’s changed since he saw him last. Hoseok hasn’t grown any older, but his eyes sparkle more, his smile is wider, and Taehyung was right when he said Hoseok is himself again.

Namjoon shakes his head as tears flow down his cheeks. “No,” he chokes out, stepping forward to envelop Hoseok in his arms. Hoseok returns the hug with equal enthusiasm. “No, Hoseok,” he speaks into the cool skin of Hoseok’s neck, “now, I’m home.”