You Infire Me

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Boys Come to Visit

"The key to companionship is trust. We wouldn't have come this far if we didn't trust each other."
— J-Hope

To say that you're anxious to meet Yoongi's six hyungs would be a gross understatement. Part of you is thrilled, and the other, much larger part is terrified. And now, you won't be meeting them as his girlfriend.

You'll be meeting them as his fiancée.

You didn't sleep well for a week. (And no, not for those kinds of reasons. Get your mind out of the gutter.) You didn't sleep well because you couldn't believe it. You spent all of your nights thrashing about, your mind active and relentless, trying to convince yourself that he'd proposed. So unexpectedly, so out of the blue. The ring I wear around my neck is Yoongi's. Yoongi's! I'm engaged to Min Yoongi! I am going to marry Min Yoongi!

Nope. It never worked. You woke up every morning in a quandary. Baffled, discomposed. Then perplexed, flustered. Then giddy, gasping, giggling. And, finally, grateful. Grateful to be Min Yoongi's future wife.

It's a rollercoaster of emotions, a cycle of thoughts and feelings. You run through it again, in all its whiplashing glory, as you sweep Yoongi's apartment on a Saturday morning.

"Hey, Y/N-ah, you know what I just realized?" You hear your now-fiancée's voice from the other room. "It's our one-week anniversary of being engaged! Whoa, wait," you hear his footfalls stop, and turn to see him behind you. "What are you doing?"

"Your hyungs are coming tomorrow," you explain, "so I'm cleaning up."

"You don't have to do that," he crosses the room and wraps his arms around you from behind, settling his hands on your hips. "I'm a very clean person. It looks fine in here."

"I know it does," you giggle a bit, "but I want to impress them."

"With your cleaning skills?"

You nod. "I am your future wife, after all."

"Yes you are," he agrees. "But this is not the 1950s. I'm not marrying you so that you'll be here to clean up after me and cook my meals. I'm marrying you so that I can spend forever with the world's smartest, sweetest, prettiest girl."

You hold back a sigh of contentment, but the feeling probably shows on your face. "Say that again."

"The world's smartest–"

"No, before that."

"Spend forever–"

"Before that too."

"I'm marrying you? Is that the one?"

"Mm-hmm," you nod, settling into his embrace a little more, enjoying the feeling of his strong arms guarding you from the world. "Say it over and over again."

"I'm marrying you. I'm marrying you. I'm marrying you. I'm marrying you."

You laugh. "Nice use of marked emphasis to alter semantic meaning, Yoongs."

"You taught me well."

You turn to face him, to place a kiss on his lips, and you get close . . .

But then, someone knocks at the door.

Yoongi groans, tears himself from your side, and runs to open it. From where you're standing, you can't see who lies behind it, but you formulate a pretty good guess at Yoongi's pleasantly surprised expression and the voice that shouts: