Kim Taehyung

— Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

Taehyung knew the silence of the church like the back of his hand. He'd grown up in it: here, on this very polished pew, at seven years old, he'd dropped his prayer book with a clatter that made everyone wince, and at fourteen, hiding a smile, he'd pass Jungkook notes disguised as verses from psalms across the aisle.

Now he was twenty-two, and his fingers, beneath the formal sleeve of his cassock, sought Jungkook's again. Not for mischief, but for oxygen. They sat shoulder to shoulder, as they had for the past ten years, listening to a sermon on love, mercy, and purity, understanding that they might not be together for their beloved god, but they would always be together for each other.

The priest spoke about the upcoming Christmas Eve, about family, traditions, and the Father.

And when the lovers sang, offering their prayers to the Creator, Jungkook, as if swearing before the face of the Lord, seemed to take the hand of his beloved imperceptibly.

But love always attracts attention.

Everything that happened next seemed like it was being absorbed by Taehyung. They were led to the bishop's office—a room with dark wood, a portrait of the Pope, and the heavy smell of wax. The voices above him were loud, but the words came in fragments: "...scandal... sin... bad example... family..."

But they were lucky—they weren't banished, allowed to remain in the shadows, under the conditions of strict, almost monastic restraint. The young men stepped out into the frosty air, a deep breath of which burned Taehyung's lungs, forcing him to lean against the frozen brick wall, close his eyes, and simply gasp, feeling the fear of losing his home wash over him only now. But isn't his home deep in Jungkook's black eyes?

"Why must we hide, my love?" he breathed out tremblingly.