"Look at him," Taehyung whispered from behind the lamppost like a budget K-drama villain.
Jungkook peeked from the other side, sipping bubble tea. "He's smiling."
"No," Ivory hissed, crouching way too dramatically for someone in heels, "he's glowing. I haven't seen him like this since... well, ever."
"He's walking beside her. That's a second coffee in his hand. You think he offered to pay? You think he used a pick-up line? He looks like he used a pick-up line," Taehyung murmured with fake judgment and real awe.
"I think," Jungkook said slowly, "he's gonna get roasted by us until the end of time for this."
"Think he paid for her coffee?" Taehyung asked.
"Think he nailed the coffee order?" Jungkook added.
"I think," Taehyung said slowly, "he's gonna get roasted for this until 2040. Same as you, Jungkook, for Paris."
Jungkook froze mid-sip.
Ivory turned her head slowly. "Paris?"
Taehyung, sensing the devil stirring, grinned. "Oh yeah. The clubs. The late nights. The two women—"
"Taehyung." Jungkook hissed.
Taehyung kept going. "—he slept with during fashion week because he was 'emotionally unwell.' One blonde with the green eyeliner? And the Parisian model who—"
Ivory stood up so fast her heels clicked like thunder. "You did WHAT?"
"I—Babe—it was before you! And Taehyung doesn't know the timeline right—"
"Oh, I know the timeline," Taehyung chirped smugly. "That's why he kept disappearing at night. Said he was going on 'walks.' Bro was walking into bedposts."
Ivory nearly gagged on her milk tea.
"I can't believe I kissed that mouth. And you were out here emotionally breakdancing on random women?!"
"It was a DARK TIME—" Jungkook stood too, trying to defend himself.
"Don't you DARE trauma card me when you were playing DJ at Club Regret with your pants off! I ought to shove this entire bubble tea up your—"
Jungkook lunged to grab her cup, possibly to protect his last ounce of dignity.
Taehyung held him back with one arm, sipping peacefully. "I told you she'd find out eventually. You can't hide your sins when I'm around."
"You're supposed to be my friend!"
"I am. That's why I let it slip gently. Like a wrecking ball."
Jungkook winced. "Babe—"
"Don't babe me! You and Sayuri had a K-drama worth of toxic drama, and I didn't even get popcorn! And you didn't tell me all the details! Just snippets Jake. Little snippets!"
"I told Yoongi—"
"Of course you told Yoongi! Everyone tells Yoongi! Because he doesn't judge! He just nods and makes weirdly wise comments while his hot DJ girlfriend raises their lovechild like he's not secretly the chillest mafia dad in Korea!"
Everyone looked over.
Yoongi was seated on a couch near the corner of the bubble tea shop, sunglasses on, rocking a two-year-old in one arm while texting with his pinky. His girlfriend leaned against him, laughing softly, music gently playing from her phone.
"See?" Ivory hissed. "What is that? How does he do that? I threw a cucumber at Jake last week and Yoongi just handed me wine and nodded like a monk!"
At that exact moment, Yoongi stood, child in one arm, girlfriend on the other, calm as ever.
"Tell me when you're done embarrassing yourselves. My daughter's throwing yogurt at strangers and I need backup."
Ivory was still ranting. Jungkook looked one breath away from grabbing a mop for self-defense. Taehyung just laughed, pointing at them with his cup. Blabbering their clubbing time in Paris.
Yoongi adjusted his sunglasses. "Ah. Young love."
Just then, Jimin and the psychologist turned a corner, still deep in conversation. Jimin looked down, then up at her, and smiled—not the one he gives the camera. The real one.
Ivory's face softened.
"That's my favorite kind of face that Jimin does, smiling with his eyes disappearing," she said gently.
"Yeah," Jungkook murmured. "And he deserves that."
"Still gonna roast him though," Taehyung added.
"Oh, absolutely," Jungkook grinned.
Yoongi looked over the top of his sunglasses, smirked, and said, "Tell me when you're done spying. We've got dinner plans. And if you're late, my daughter's throwing yogurt at your heads."
They scattered like roaches.
Jimin reached for the café door, hand brushing against the glass, mid-sentence as he laughed softly with the woman beside him when the chaos inside stopped them both.
Ivory was in full rant-mode, arms flailing with a passion that could incinerate empires. Taehyung looked proud. Jungkook looked like he was trying to apparate. Yoongi was sipping something in the corner, still waiting, entirely unbothered, while his toddler threw yogurt at a plant as his girlfriend, tissue on hand, caught the yogurt in lazy swings. Unbothered.
Jimin blinked. Blinked again.
He then turned to the psychologist beside him, nodded once like a war general, and whispered,
"Nope. Not today."
With perfect coordination, they U-turned like spies, walking back down the street in silent agreement.
"Smart choice," she said.
"I like my peace," Jimin replied, slipping his hand into his coat pocket.
She smiled. "And I like men who know when to run."
They walked a little farther down the street. The breeze was calm. The city was alive in that quiet way—gentle footsteps, low laughter, headlights passing like thoughts.
Jimin glanced at her. The woman beside him wasn't some great cosmic sign or romantic finale. She was just...someone real. A moment that felt right.
He smiled to himself.
For the first time in a long time, he wasn't chasing ghosts. Not running from grief. Not numbing or pretending.
He was here.
Alive. Soft-hearted. Still mending.
And maybe, just maybe, walking toward something—
instead of away.
He remembered the night Celine stood under the rain in Paris. No mascara. No defense. Just truth.
"Not all people are meant to stay... but some are meant to leave something behind. A feeling. A lesson. A bruise you grow around."
She had left him all three.
But for once, it didn't feel like a wound.
It felt like closure.
He looked at the woman next to him—present, real, nothing like Celine—and smiled.
And for the first time, he whispered back to the memory:
Thank you.