Yoongi huffs, glancing over at him. It seems doubtful that his skill with the piano would be enough to persuade anyone that their prejudices are wrong. It's a sweet thing to say, though. "I don't know about the piano," he says wryly, "but we'll see."

Not now and maybe not soon, he thinks. But eventually. When they're ready, when Jungkook feels safe enough. He's not in any hurry. They have a lifetime ahead of them.

He steers them to the right, making his way around other markers, to stop finally in front of his mother's. "Here we are," he says. For a moment, he lingers, arm still in Jungkook's, before he pulls away. Kneeling down, he lays out the rest of the lilies atop the grave. "Hi," he says softly. "Sorry it's been so long, Mom. I'll try to visit more often. But I brought a visitor today. This is Jungkook. My boyfriend." He hesitates, reaching out, fingers tracing over cold stone. "I know that worries you, but we're careful. I promise, we're so careful, and you'll like him. He's so sweet and creative and good, and he loves me so much. He makes me happy. And you know I haven't been very happy in a long time."

Please, please, please understand.