What were they?
He still didn't actually know.
Sure, he knew what he hoped for. What his heart wanted. But his mind was a little bit more complicated. A little bit harder to convince. And it was going to take more than just some pretty reassurance for it to hold that knowledge as truth instead of wishful thinking.
What were they?
Did he even truly want to know? Did he really want to bridge that final gap and get the answer he had been seeking from the very beginning? What if all it did was kill the last little spark of hope that he held onto so tightly? The first ember that could create a fire if only it was paid the proper attention.
But he had to know. Because it felt that question, the uncertainty of it, slowly driving him insane. Had to know because to be able to call himself Jungkook's. Wanted to proudly announce that yes, that was in fact his boyfriend. His fiance.
His husband.
God, he wanted it so badly. Wanted to marry Jungkook under the fall of blooming cherry blossoms. Wanted to make whispered promises to one another that were only ever meant for them. Realized that he was getting carried away and that wasn't them. No, that wasn't them and that wasn't their love but that was fine. He was alright with that. All that mattered was that they loved. They loved with a passion that burned so incredibly brightly he was certain the gods themselves could see it.
So he would ask. Would cross that invisible line that still somehow remained between them one final time. And would pray that it would disappear entirely instead of becoming a brick wall that would separate them forever.
...
There were no longer holes in his dry wall.
It was a realization that was so delayed it was almost a wonder he had noticed at all. But it was growing late and the sun was starting to set and he was aware of the schedule Jungkook kept now. Knew that the floral shop closed at six each and every week day, and that things worked like actual clock work. That they had the closing routine down so well he was almost envious. Normally he and Hoseok operated with a certain level of chaos, one of them reacting like a volcano and the other as a tornado and while they got things done, it wasn't always pretty.
But there were no longer holes in his dry wall. And he only noticed because his hands were so dry after doing the dishes he had created while making them a meal, and the lotion he used for that particular ailment was on top of his dresser. Directly next to where the first had always been.
But the glaring reminder of their almost failure was no longer there. And as his eyes sought out the larger, fresher one, he realized that it too was missing.
For a moment he wondered if he was actually going insane. If he had finally lost what little sanity had always remained. That maybe this whole entire thing had been nothing more than a fever dream and he was going to wake up any moment and realize that none of it was real.
Even as he leaned in, he almost expecting his eyes to open and for him to sit up gasping in the room he had always called his in that old apartment. That Taehyung was going to come barging in, asking what was wrong. And there would be tears, so many that he wouldn't even be able to explain them all.
Maybe that would have been for the best. A chance to restart. To fix this entire mess that had been created. To do it all over again and make better choices. Smarter ones. But he was already aware that he do the same things over again. So long as they led him to Jungkook, he would always make the same ones.
But there were tiny ridges that hadn't been there before, and as he lifted his hand and traced his fingers along them, he felt the edges of where the fresh spackle had been laid. Came away with little flecks of still drying paint attached to his skin. Laughed at the sight and his own foolishness.
Of course this wasn't a dream. None of them, as intricate and realistic and haunting as they may have been had ever gone on for this long. Had ever covered this much ground. No, he couldn't have been that lucky.
Or maybe that was his own stroke of luck. That this wasn't a dream. That this was finally real. He honestly didn't know anymore.
The door made a distinctive sound when it was opened, the alarm giving off a soft beep before the handle squeaked, two short little noises that he had memorized perfectly. And as his eyes lifted and the sight of his real life dream come true came into view, he couldn't help but think that this was it. This was his one piece of luck. That it had been entirely used up on this one thing. That the reserve had run dry and he would never have another run of it.
And that was okay.
