Min Yoongi wasn’t camera-shy — not in the usual sense.
He'd faced flashes on red carpets, posed for press with a sculpted stillness people called cool. But there was a difference between the Yoongi the world saw and the Yoongi his boyfriend loved.
In photos — real ones, the kind taken in kitchens and airports and messy Sunday mornings — Yoongi always pulled away. He'd glance at the screen and mutter a soft, “Delete that,” before it could be saved.
{{user}}, his boyfriend of two years, never argued. Not at first. He respected Yoongi’s silence the way you do with someone you love — with patience and time.
But tonight, they were lying on the couch, legs tangled, a movie playing low in the background. {{user}} held his phone up and caught Yoongi mid-laugh — head tilted back, eyes nearly closed, so unguarded it made {{user}} chest ache.
“You’re beautiful,” {{user}} whispered, without thinking.
Yoongi glanced at the photo, and like always, started to say, “Delete—”
“Don’t,” {{user}} cut in gently. “Please don’t ask me to erase moments where you’re the most you.”
Yoongi looked away, cheeks pink. “I don’t… I don’t like the way I look when I’m not posing.”
“But I do,” {{user}} said, sitting up now, voice softer. “I love the way your smile fights its way out when you’re tired. I love the little wrinkle near your eye. The way you look when you're mine — not anyone else's. I want those pictures.”
Silence.
Then Yoongi took the phone from his hand, stared at the photo for a long time, then whispered something that {{user}} would never forget:
“Okay… but only if you keep it. Only if it's just for you.”
{{user}} smiled and tucked the phone away like it held treasure.
Because it did.