Even when Yoongi remembers his mother's warnings when he was little, all he can remember now is how much softer her voice was than his father's, the love behind the caution. Maybe it was because he was so young. She never liked to be harsh with him, but that must have been all the more true when he was just a little kid. He hardly remembers the words themselves, just the meaning and the feeling behind them. She wanted his happiness, which, at least to her, meant his safety.

If she could see him now, though, he knows she'd feel differently. The way Jungkook holds him, it's like he's found shelter in the eye of the storm. If she's watching, then he knows she must already approve.

"She would," he says, nodding. "I think she'd like knowing someone else is trying." He draws back just enough that he can lean in and kiss Jungkook, brief and chaste though it is. "And succeeding. I love you so much." Maybe he won't ever fulfill his mother's dream for him; being a musician is a tenuous life to choose, and he wants to build a solid, steady one for the two of them, filled with music but not reliant on it. But he'd like to think she'd want that for him, too, a life without having to scramble to stay afloat. A life full of love. She would want that for him, as much as anything else, for him to be loved.