Axiom

      France. Four a.m. The balcony of an old yet beautiful building is decorated with black wrought iron bars. The gaze trails along the curved street, leading to a narrow alley. The walls of the houses are covered with flowers and vines.       Everything looks so light and weightless that you want to fly between the houses of Provence, touching the flowers on the window sills, walls, and roofs with your fingertips. It makes you think of climbing one of the roofs and flying up, rising above the city to take in all the narrow streets neatly laid out with bricks.       France has its own vibe. Standing at the window, watching cars occasionally passing by and random strangers: girls in red berets, scarves or just with a hairpin, men in warm coats or in black tuxedos with a red handkerchief looking out of their pockets, Taehyung has no regrets about bringing his love here.        This night is the beginning of their honeymoon. They are finally alone, together, and the only witness is the wind of Provence that sneaks into the room through the old window that used to be all white, but now the paint is covered with the net of crackles. Only the wind watches them, every warm embrace they share, every word they quietly utter. The air is filled with confessions of love.       Yes, that is the kind of air here, saturated with intimacy, eternity and pollen.       "Taehyung-a," a quiet voice calls upon the motionless dark figure at the window. "Come, lie with me."       It took Tae a couple of seconds to take his brooding eyes silently away from the window he had just covered with curtains. His gaze touched the bed, hoarse after the long night voice had come from.       He licked his dry lips, still silent and not looking at his now husband.       There came a heavy sigh, then a couple of quiet steps on the terry carpet, and he was finally standing on the threshold of the balcony of their small apartment.       "Taehyung-a, " the quiet voice calls once again.       But Taehyung is not in the mood to talk right now. He wants his quiet, preferably alone. Maybe with a cigarette in his teeth, and he automatically checks for a lighter in his pocket. The barely audible "Sorry, not now", uttered almost indifferently, reaches Jungkook covered with only a thin sheet. His empty gaze follows his beloved to the balcony only to see the old glazed door close tightly.       The cold air immediately burns Taehyung’s lungs, so the cigarette quickly finds its place in the mouth. Graceful hands slowly take the flicker to the end of the stick, making the edge turn black in a glimpse.       The tart taste of familiar Korean cigarettes falls on the tongue. From the first breath, it takes over the lungs. It warms him from the inside. But the goosebumps still run under a white shirt thrown over the naked body. No wonder all passers-by wear coats. But for now... Taehyung just wants to freeze.       He wants to freeze only to return to the warm embrace of his love, who, after a whole night of heavy touches and sharp pushes, after a whole night of soft lips on sweaty skin, after a whole night of words about eternity and feelings, still starves for his touch.        They still have it all ahead of them. Their time has just begun. They have eternity together. They have a lifetime of ups and downs, all kinds of disagreements and compromises. They will have time to experience the sweetness and bitterness of married life. Just as Taehyung feels the cold wind enveloping his body now. Just as he feels the wrought iron bars of the balcony.       Even these heart-shaped bars remind him of what he lives for on this planet. Each heart forged by the skilful hands of a master reminds Taehyung that he has found his meaning in the beating heart of a man. In the very heart whose owner is now opening with an effort the old balcony door that creaks and protests this intrusion, and then approaches his beloved one barefoot.       Love is a pleasant feeling, you say. Euphoria and all that.       Jungkook would argue.       Yeah, it's euphoria, but the price you have to pay for these moments!       Jungkook would argue because he seems to suffer from its power more than enjoy it.       He suffers when he can't hug Tae's body, and when he is not hugged back. He suffers when Tae leaves him in an empty, cold bed. He suffers when he is kissed... so tender... so hot... so beautiful. But he wants more. He wants it to last longer. He wants it to last forever.       He can't stop on his own, Taehyung has to stop him. Otherwise, Jungkook will go on kissing until he loses consciousness. He will breathe only his beloved one, he will feed on his sharp breaths and bottomless eyes. He will catch his glances and moans, trying to give him even more pleasure. He is ready to become ink just to get under the skin like an enormous tattoo. He is ready to become this cigarette, which is now touching the lips only he should touch... He is ready to become this cold black crossbar Taehyung's hands are resting upon instead of Jungkook's waist. He is ready to become anything, as long as Tae doesn't leave him, as long as he is around all the time. To leave his mark, to leave the traces on his skin. Even this crossbar has left its mark on Taehyung's elbows. While he is not allowed to.       He is only allowed to touch, enjoy touching, enjoy wet lips, but he can't leave any marks. Taehyung doesn't allow it. Why? Jungkook doesn't know. Tae doesn't explain it to him, just eases him away and looks into his clouded eyes. Then he punishes.       It's not that Jungkook doesn't like it. Even this punishment doesn't seem to be a punishment. But he wants to leave at least one mark. At least one maroon mark on this perfect body.       Warm hands gently wrap around Taehyung's waist, and he gets goosebumps again from the contrast of temperatures. The contrast between loneliness and a loving embrace. It's the excitement of finally realizing what he had achieved, that he managed to get what he desired. To get the one he has been thinking about for so long.       How many years have they lost? How many years could they have already belonged to each other? Two years? Three? Five years. If at least one of them had had the courage and voiced his feelings instead of the usual "Good evening, Mr Kim. I finished the last report". And the same, nauseatingly familiar "Good, leave it on my desk."       But maybe it's for the best.       They both have grown as people, they have become more reserved. They have learned to find compromises and cherish every minute together. Every second. They have learned to think about what will happen, and not just about what is now. And yet... How wonderful it would have been if instead of a polite bow and "I've finished the report" there had been a hot breath and a promising "The door is locked".       Daydreaming. Taehyung was definitely daydreaming.       The rest of the cigarette slowly sinks below the railing. The head leans forward as a short kiss falls between the shoulder blades, a short but not a light one.       Taehyung can't explain it, but every touch of Jungkook leaves a mental mark on him. He feels it. Every touch of these soft lips becomes a mark. It belongs only to Jungkook. And now the marriage certificate says the same thing. Finally, their paired rings with initials, between which the infinity sign flaunts, prove the same.       They are definitely made for each other. Taehyung knew that from their first meeting. And he will always be sure of it. They are made for each other, that is an axiom.       "Taehyung-a," Jungkook leans forward with his whole body, gently pressing his head between Tae's shoulder blades, rubbing it a little, finding the most comfortable position. "When will you quit smoking?”       "I'm in the process," the answer sounds dry.       "And how long will this process take?"       Silence hangs between them for a moment. This is a moment of motionless silence, and then the whisper becomes louder than all the words spoken in their lives.       "As long as fate has given to our love, which is my whole life."       There comes a noisy exhalation. Taehyung slowly raises the head, bringing the cigarette to his lips again.       "You're unamendable."       "Just like my feelings," comes a muffled answer, and then the lungs burn again, leaving the same familiar astringency of Korean cigarettes on the tongue.       Taehyung knows he has found his happiness, destined for him by fate. Shown by stars. He will live his whole life in the arms of this man with a cigarette on his lips.       And even if both lose their memory, they will fall in love again. If they die, they will find each other in the next life. Some will say these are nothing but big words. Taehyung will say it's an axiom. And axioms, as we all know, are not in question.