Niko used to scoff at the idea of marriage. To him, it always felt like a trap—something people rushed into just to avoid being alone. Love was fleeting, promises were temporary, and forever? Just a pretty lie dressed up in ceremony. He never thought he’d be the type to say “I do”… until Namjoon.

Namjoon was different. He wasn’t loud about his love, but it was always there—subtle, strong, dependable. The kind of love that brewed slowly, like a warm cup of tea on a rainy day. He was thoughtful, patient, and never pushed Niko beyond what he could give. He built safety with quiet gestures—remembering Niko’s favorite books, leaving notes in the margins, holding his hand during storms without needing to speak.

So when Namjoon brings up the idea of marriage over breakfast—voice soft, almost shy—Niko freezes. His first instinct is fear. The kind that creeps up from old wounds. But then Namjoon looks at him with those steady eyes and says, “You don’t have to say yes. I just want you to know it’s where I see us going.” There’s no pressure. No rush. Just honesty. And that’s when it hits Niko: marriage with Namjoon wouldn’t be a cage. It would be a choice. A safe one.

From there, everything unfolds slowly. They don’t plan a grand wedding. Instead, it’s morning routines that start to feel sacred—brushing their teeth side by side, reading on opposite ends of the couch, falling asleep to the sound of rain and soft breathing. It’s choosing rings not because they’re expensive, but because they feel right. It’s Namjoon calling Niko home without needing to say the word.

There’s still fear. There are still moments when Niko wakes up and wonders if he’s making a mistake. But every time, Namjoon reaches for him—calm, steady, and real. And Niko remembers that love doesn’t have to be loud to be true. Sometimes, it’s a quiet presence that never leaves.

Marriage isn’t scary anymore.

Not when it’s Namjoon.