Yoongi nods. "They were," he says. He feels so much calmer now than he did when they first arrived — the jitters over meeting Jungkook's father subsided, the pain of facing his mother eased. They must have been here. Maybe they still are. If so, he thinks, the sight of the two of them holding each other must be reassuring to any loving parent. He's not naive; the road ahead of them won't always be easy. They face public censure if they aren't careful and their own crippling demons, but still, so what? They have each other to get through it all. The love they share must be writ across their faces for their parents to see, and to know that, whatever happens, they'll have each other to lean on.

"Maybe it's just wishful thinking," he says, "but I do think she approves. It feels right, doesn't it?" Here, where he's so often felt turmoil and grief, there's a peace settling into him, bone-deep, a quiet feeling that they've done well. Telling their living parents won't be as easy. He still feels like a coward every time he thinks of it, knowing he intends to keep this from his father until he's ready to leave for university, though he also knows it's the smart thing to do. All of that can wait, though. Right now, there's just this, the two of them alone and also not, surrounded by what he feels must be their parents' blessings.