HIS AUNT 1

CHARACTERS:-

Min yoongi

Age:- 19yrs old

College student

Choi Yn

Age:- 32 yrs old

College professor

AUTHOR'S POV

Rain tapped gently against the windowpane of the Min household as soft lo-fi music played in the background. Min Yoongi sat cross-legged on his bed, textbook open but completely ignored. His eyes kept drifting toward the hallway where faint footsteps echoed — she was home.

Choi Y/N, 32, his aunt — technically his mom’s younger sister — but she didn’t feel like an aunt to him. Not anymore. Not since she moved in last winter.

She was... everything. Gentle. Beautiful. Smart. And so heartbreakingly sad sometimes.

Yoongi’s heart had quietly but surely betrayed him the moment he saw her sitting at their dinner table with that soft, tired smile after her divorce. She didn’t cry. She didn’t complain. She simply helped his mom cook, folded his laundry, and even reminded him to drink warm water when his throat hurt.

And that was it. He was ruined.

Now he spent his nights listening to music she liked. Reading books she had read. Offering to walk the dog with her. Making excuses to sit near her on the couch — all just to watch her smile.

---

It was a Saturday morning when she walked into the kitchen wearing his oversized hoodie. His hoodie. The black one with the small paw print on the sleeve.

Yoongi nearly choked on his cereal.

"You okay, Yoongi?" she asked, frowning slightly. "You look red."

"Me? Red? No—uh, just hot!" He grabbed his glass and drank water like it would save his life. "You look cute—"

He froze.

"...in that hoodie. I mean— it’s old! You should keep it!"

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s your hoodie, isn’t it?”

“…I like when you wear my things,” he mumbled, eyes now fixed on his bowl.

She chuckled, ruffling his hair. “You’re such a baby sometimes.”

Baby.

Ouch.

Yoongi pouted, cheeks puffed slightly as he muttered under his breath, “I’m not a baby. I’m nineteen.”

---

That night, she sat on the porch sipping tea. Yoongi tiptoed out with a second cup for her, careful not to wake his parents.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, taking the cup.

He shook his head. “You looked lonely.”

She smiled softly but didn’t deny it. “Sometimes I miss my old home... but being here with family helps. Your mom’s been my biggest support.”

Yoongi hesitated before asking, “What about me? Don’t I help?”

She turned to him, surprised. “You? You’ve been my sunshine, Yoongi-ah. You don’t even realize how much.”

His ears turned red. He looked away quickly, pretending to admire the moon.

After a long pause, he whispered, “I don’t want to be your sunshine…”

“Hm?”

“I want to be your person.”

The words were out before he could stop them. She blinked, stunned, but Yoongi kept staring ahead, heart hammering.

“I know I’m young, and I know I’m your nephew by relation. But I’m not a kid anymore. I like you… aunt. I think I always have.”

She stared at him, tea forgotten.

“You’re special to me,” he continued, voice shaking slightly. “Even if you can’t see me that way. I just wanted you to know.”

She didn’t speak for a long time. Then, gently, she placed her hand on his.

“I think… that’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”

Yoongi looked at her with hope, eyes soft and sparkly.

“But you’re still my cute little Yoongi,” she said, teasing gently. “At least for now.”

He groaned and leaned back dramatically. “You’re going to make me suffer, aren’t you?”

She laughed, that real laugh he loved so much. “Maybe just a little. But if you keep being this sweet, who knows?”

Yoongi grinned.

Challenge accepted.

---

“Yoongi! YN! Come here for a second!”

Eunji’s voice echoed through the house, loud and enthusiastic. Yoongi groaned, tugging his headphones down.

“What now, eomma?”

YN stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Unnie, what is it?”

Eunji beamed as she waved her phone. “I found this couple dance challenge on Instagram! It’s trending! I thought we could try it for fun.”

“Couple dance?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Yes! And I want you two to do it together. You’re home, you have great chemistry, and it’ll be super cute!”

YN’s eyes widened. “Unnie, I don’t know… That might look a little strange…”

“It’s just one short video,” Eunji insisted. “Please? Just for laughs.”

YN glanced at Yoongi, uncertain. “Are you okay with it?”

Yoongi grinned and stood up, brushing invisible lint off his shirt. “I get to hold your hand, right, Aunt YN? I’m totally okay with it.”

YN rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Just don’t step on my feet.”

Yoongi gave a dramatic bow, holding out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

After a tiny pause, she placed her hand in his. “Don’t mess this up, Min Yoongi.”

---

Eunji set up the camera while the opening notes of a sweet romantic tune began to play.

YN stepped closer, placing one hand lightly on Yoongi’s shoulder. He gently wrapped one arm around her waist and took her hand with the other.

“Ready, Aunt YN?” he whispered.

She nodded. “Ready.”

They moved in rhythm, slightly awkward at first, but soon they found their groove. Yoongi kept glancing up at her and quickly looking away every time their eyes met, only to sneak another peek seconds later.

“You’re not so bad at this,” YN teased softly as they swayed.

Yoongi smirked. “I’m focused. Aunt YN is in my arms—how could I mess this up?”

She let out a small laugh. “You’re shameless.”

“Confident,” he corrected.

Eunji giggled behind the camera. “You two look like a real couple! This is perfect!”

Yoongi leaned in a little. “Should I twirl you?”

“Just don’t drop me—” YN yelped as he gently spun her. She lost her balance for a second, but Yoongi caught her and pulled her right back into his arms.

“Got you,” he whispered close to her ear.

She blinked up at him, stunned for a second. His grip was steady. His eyes were soft.

The music stopped.

Eunji clapped. “That was adorable! I’m posting this!”

YN quickly pulled away, flustered. “Unnie, don’t you dare post that—”

“Why not?

“Eomma!” Yoongi gasped, turning completely red.

YN looked at him with wide eyes. “You weren’t really going to, right?”

Yoongi scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the floor. “I mean… if the song had gone on just a little longer…”

She picked up a cushion and smacked him lightly. “Yah! Don’t say nonsense like that!”

But she was smiling. And her cheeks were warm.

Yoongi noticed that. He held the cushion close and mumbled, “You didn’t pull away, Aunt YN.”

Her smile faded into something softer. She looked at him quietly before replying in a whisper.

“No. I didn’t.”

---

TIME SKIPS

The school bell rang, echoing through the halls of Daegu High. Students shuffled into their classrooms lazily, carrying half-slept eyes and heavy bags — except Min Yoongi.

Yoongi was wide awake. Alert. Straight-backed and too ready for 8 a.m.

Why?

Because it was English Literature, and Aunt YN was his teacher.

The moment she walked in, dressed in a crisp cream blouse and navy trousers, the class suddenly looked less sleepy — including the boys in the back row who never paid attention.

But Yoongi saw her differently.

She wasn’t the soft, pajama-wearing YN who made him tea at home. Right now, she was Miss Choi — serious, distant, and completely unreadable.

“Open your textbooks to page 78,” she said, eyes sweeping over the room with her usual calm authority. “Today we’ll cover poetic devices in romantic poetry. If I see a single phone, it’s going in my drawer.”

Yoongi smirked. So strict, Aunt YN. You’re so dramatic when you teach.

He raised his hand without even waiting for her to ask questions.

“Yes, Min Yoongi?” she said without an ounce of affection. Not even a smirk. As if he were just another student.

He tilted his head. “Do we need to write an essay or just make notes?”

“Notes,” she said shortly, not even blinking. “And don’t waste time trying to impress me with your handwriting again. It doesn’t affect your grades.”

Some students laughed.

Yoongi hid his grin behind his book. She really pretends I don’t exist here, huh?

But he didn’t mind. It was their little secret.

---

Halfway through the class, two boys from Yoongi’s row leaned over to whisper.

“She’s so hot when she’s angry,” one of them muttered, eyes locked on YN as she scribbled something on the board.

Yoongi’s pen stopped mid-sentence.

“Bet she has a boyfriend though,” the other said. “I’d still risk it for her. I mean… Miss Choi’s legs—bro.”

Yoongi slowly turned his head and glared.

Not just a glare. A cold, sharp, silent warning that screamed don’t even breathe in her direction again.

The boys caught it and chuckled awkwardly. “What’s your problem, man?”

Yoongi didn’t respond. He just stared until they turned away.

His hand tightened around his pen. His leg bounced under the desk. His heart was thudding—not because of the poetry. Because someone dared to talk about his Aunt YN like that.

Even if no one knew the way he saw her… she wasn’t just anyone.

---

After class, students began filing out, chattering and stretching.

YN remained by the desk, checking papers, completely in teacher-mode.

Yoongi lingered by the door until the classroom emptied. Then he walked back in, shutting the door behind him.

YN glanced up. “What is it, Yoongi? Did you forget something?”

He leaned against her desk, face playful but eyes a little annoyed. “You heard them, didn’t you?”

“Heard who?” YN asked, still flipping pages.

“Those two idiots talking about your legs.”

She paused.

Then looked up slowly. “You’re my student, Yoongi. This is school.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel protective, Aunt YN.”

YN narrowed her eyes. “You were glaring at them.”

“They deserved it.”

YN crossed her arms. “If you keep reacting like that, someone’s going to notice. And then what?”

He stepped closer, voice lower. “Let them notice.”

YN blinked.

“I hate when they talk about you like that,” he muttered. “Like you’re just some pretty face… when they don’t even know you. They don’t know how you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous, or how you hum to yourself when you cook, or how you cry watching animal rescue videos—”

“Yoongi,” YN whispered, her voice gentler now.

“This whole cold-teacher act,” he said softly, “I know why you do it. But even when you’re strict… you’re still beautiful. Still mine.”

YN’s breath caught.

He took a step back. “Anyway. See you at home, Aunt YN.”

And just like that, he turned and walked out, leaving her frozen behind the desk — cheeks warm, fingers still holding a red pen that now trembled slightly.

---

Sunday mornings in the Min household were slow and sleepy. Birds chirped outside the window, the curtains swayed gently with the breeze, and the kitchen usually stayed quiet until noon.

But not today.

Yoongi tiptoed across the kitchen tiles at 7:30 a.m., hoodie sleeves rolled up, hair messy from sleep, determined.

Today, he was going to cook.

For Aunt YN.

It was the least he could do after watching her take care of everyone every single day — cooking, cleaning, tutoring, smiling even when she was exhausted.

And after what happened at school… something in Yoongi had shifted. A stronger need to show her she mattered — to him. Only him.

---

The stove clicked to life.

Yoongi pulled out eggs, rice, veggies, and some chicken broth from the fridge. He had watched YN cook fried rice a hundred times, and today, he planned to replicate it with extra love. While the rice steamed, he began working on two separate sets of plates:

One for his mom and dad — with spicy seasoning, extra kimchi, and fried tofu (his dad's favorite).

One for YN — lighter spice, soft scrambled eggs on top, and a heart-shaped drizzle of soy glaze.

He even chopped strawberries and peeled apples for her — something she always did for him.

Yoongi glanced at the clock: 8:12 a.m. His parents usually woke up at 8:30. Perfect.

---

Just as he was plating the last dish, the soft shuffle of slippers entered the kitchen.

YN.

Her eyes were still sleepy, her hair loosely tied up. She wore a soft pastel cardigan over her pajama tee. The moment she saw the kitchen lights on and the food spread out neatly, she froze.

“Yoongi…?”

Yoongi smiled, a bit shy. “Good morning, Aunt YN.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you cook… all this?”

He nodded. “Yeah. First time. Don’t expect it every day though,” he added, trying to sound cool — but his ears were red.

YN stepped closer, looking down at the plates. She noticed the two different sets — and hers… had scrambled eggs shaped like a heart.

Her chest tightened.

“You made this… just for me?”

Yoongi looked away, rubbing his neck. “Well… yeah. You always cook. I thought… maybe I could do something for you today.”

YN slowly sat down, still stunned. “What about your parents?”

“Done,” he said proudly, nodding toward their tray covered neatly with lids. “I’ll warm theirs when they wake up. They won’t notice a thing.”

He placed her plate gently in front of her, then poured warm ginger tea into her favorite mug.

YN stared at the meal. It wasn’t perfect — the rice was a little uneven, the eggs slightly too runny — but it was made with so much care, she could feel it.

She looked up. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

Yoongi sat beside her, closer than usual. “I wanted to. You do everything for us… for me.”

There was a silence. Warm. Soft. Familiar.

YN took her first bite — and immediately smiled.

“It’s… actually good.”

Yoongi grinned. “Told you I pay attention when you cook.”

She laughed gently, sipping the tea. “This is the best breakfast I’ve had in a long time.”

Yoongi looked at her, the sunlight catching her face. “You deserve it. Every day.”

Her smile faded a little, replaced by something tender. Deep. Emotional.

“Yoongi…”

He leaned forward just a bit. “Yes, Aunt YN?”

She looked away, suddenly flustered. “Nothing. Just… thank you.”

Yoongi wanted to say more. I’d cook for you every day if you’d let me. I’d do anything to see you smile like this.

But instead, he simply watched her eat, feeling something warm swell in his chest.

She wasn’t just his aunt anymore.

She was his whole morning.

His peace.

His person.

Even if the world couldn’t know it yet.

---

The living room was filled with the gentle hum of a K-drama playing on TV — a weekend ritual for Eunji and YN.

The scene was intense — the male lead running through the rain, tears in his eyes, screaming for the woman he loved.

Eunji sniffled, clutching a tissue. “Why are these male leads always so dramatic? But still so perfect.”

YN chuckled softly, curled up on one side of the couch. “Because women like me fall for them too easily.”

Eunji grinned. “You used to be the biggest K-drama lover, remember? You’d cry like the world ended.”

“I still do sometimes,” YN admitted with a faint smile.

The next line on the drama made them both pause. The male lead whispered, "I’ll never let you go — not even if the world turns against us."

YN stared at the screen quietly.

Eunji glanced at her sister. “Still waiting for a man like that?”

YN didn’t answer immediately.

Then, softly, “I used to. I used to dream of someone who could love me like that… endlessly, completely. The way I loved.”

Eunji’s smile faded.

YN's voice trembled just a little. “But dreams break when reality gets too cruel. My husband didn’t just stop loving me… he made me feel like I was hard to love.”

Eunji reached over and held her hand. “You never told mom everything, but I knew. I saw the bruises once, and the way you’d go quiet when he called.”

YN looked down at her fingers. “He used to say I was dramatic, that I expected too much. But all I ever wanted… was peace. Someone to come home to without being afraid.”

Eunji’s eyes filled with tears. “You deserved better. You still do.”

---

In the hallway, just around the corner, Yoongi stood frozen.

He had come looking for a snack, but the moment he heard his mom and Aunt YN talking, he stopped.

Now he couldn’t move.

Every word pierced something in his chest.

His ex husband hurted her.

The man who married her — the one who was supposed to protect her — hurt her.

That’s why she looked sad when she thought no one was watching.

That’s why she kept a certain distance — from others, and especially… from him.

Back in the living room, Eunji smiled through tears, trying to lighten the mood. “Do you know who did love you endlessly from the start though?”

YN sniffed. “Who?”

“You’re gonna laugh,” Eunji chuckled. “Yoongi.”

YN blinked. “Huh?”

“When you held him after I gave birth — do you remember? You were the first one to touch him. You wouldn’t give him to anyone for hours.”

YN laughed softly. “He was so small. And so… warm. I remember thinking, ‘He’s too precious for this world.’”

“He was. Still is,” Eunji said proudly. “He was such a bubbly little thing. Always smiling, always clinging to you. You were his favorite person.”

YN smiled, eyes softening. “He still is that way sometimes.”

Eunji raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think he’s been extra clingy lately?”

YN’s smile faltered. “He’s… sweet. That’s all.”

Eunji leaned back. “Sometimes I wonder. If he weren’t my son, and you weren’t his aunt… he’d probably love you like those drama leads do.”

YN didn’t answer.

She looked down at her lap instead — eyes suddenly too full.

---

Yoongi stepped back into his room, heart pounding.

That’s why.

That’s why she kept a wall up. That’s why she acted like his words didn’t mean anything. That’s why, no matter how many soft glances he stole, she never allowed herself to look back for too long.

It wasn’t that she didn’t feel anything.

She was protecting herself.

Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair.

“She doesn’t know it yet,” he whispered to himself, “but I’m not going anywhere.”

He hadn’t confessed. Not with words.

But everything he did — every plate he served, every glare he shot at those boys in school, every time he made her smile — it was all a confession in itself.

He just hoped… one day, she’d be ready to hear it out loud.

---

TIME SKIPS

The call came in the late evening.

Eunji was in the kitchen preparing dinner, and Yoongi was in his room, headphones on, scribbling lyrics in his notebook.

When his mom suddenly screamed his name, his heart dropped before he even knew why.

“Yoongi! It’s YN! She’s been in an accident!”

---

Everything after that felt like a blur.

The rush to the hospital.

The rain.

The red emergency sign blinking above.

The sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Yoongi didn’t speak the entire ride. He just sat in the backseat, fists clenched, staring out the window like if he blinked, the world would collapse.

His mom cried beside him, muttering prayers under her breath.

When they finally reached the hospital, Yoongi’s feet hit the ground before the car even stopped completely.

He ran.

Past nurses, past waiting chairs, until he saw the sign — “Emergency Room: Choi YN”

His mother caught up behind him, breathless and shaking.

“She’s inside. They’re stitching her up—head trauma. They said she was unconscious when they found her—Yoongi, she was bleeding so much—”

Yoongi’s eyes filled with tears he didn’t realize were there.

Then the doctor stepped out.

“She’s stable now,” he said gently. “She regained consciousness a few minutes ago. But she’s very weak. One visitor at a time.”

Eunji stepped forward, but Yoongi’s hand reached out, grabbing her wrist.

“Please, eomma… let me go first.”

She blinked at her son, surprised — his voice was trembling.

And for once, Eunji saw something in his face she couldn’t understand.

“…Okay,” she whispered. “Go.”

---

Inside the room, YN lay pale against the white sheets. Her head was wrapped in bandages, IVs running down her hand. Her eyes were closed.

Yoongi froze in the doorway.

He had never seen her like this. So quiet. So fragile. The one person who always held herself together — now looking like she might break.

He stepped forward slowly.

“...Aunt YN?” his voice cracked.

Her eyes fluttered open weakly.

She turned her head just slightly — and the moment she saw him, a faint smile curved her lips. “Yoongi…”

He couldn’t hold it anymore.

The tears spilled down his cheeks as he rushed to her side.

“Why… why didn’t you call me?” he whispered, grabbing her hand gently. “Why didn’t you let me come with you? What if— what if something worse happened?”

YN tried to speak, but her throat was dry.

Yoongi didn’t wait.

He leaned in and pressed a soft, trembling kiss to her cheek.

“I can’t lose you…” he whispered against her skin, voice completely broken now. “I didn’t care who was watching. I didn’t care if anyone understood. I just wanted you. I still do.”

Then he leaned into her, his forehead pressed to her shoulder, and he cried — quietly, painfully, like a child who had just found his home shattered.

Outside the room, Eunji watched through the small glass window, hand covering her mouth.

She wiped her tears, seeing her son hunched over his aunt, clinging to her like she was the only thing holding him together.

And she thought to herself:

“Yoongi’s always been close to her. She’s been like a second mother to him. Of course he’s emotional. He’s just… crying for his aunt.”

She had no idea.

That in Yoongi’s heart…

He wasn’t just crying for his aunt.

He was crying for the woman he loved.

The one who hadn’t yet realized she was everything to him.

---

It had been three days since YN came home from the hospital.

She still walked slowly. Her head throbbed sometimes. She wasn’t allowed to climb stairs without support.

And Yoongi?

He became her personal shadow.

---

“No, Aunt YN. Sit down.”

YN raised an eyebrow from where she stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

“I was just going to pour some water—”

Yoongi gently took the glass from her hand. “And I said sit.”

YN sighed but turned, walking slowly back to the couch. “You’re bossier than your mom, you know that?”

Yoongi smirked. “That’s because unlike her, I don’t get distracted by K-dramas in the middle of caregiving.”

---

Later that afternoon, Eunji watched Yoongi carefully wrap a scarf around YN’s neck before she stepped outside for five minutes of sunlight.

“Yoongi...”

He looked up.

“You really want to take care of her for the rest of the week?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I don’t want her to be alone. She needs someone.”

Eunji smiled softly. “You’ve grown up so much.”

Yoongi stayed quiet, adjusting YN’s slippers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Eunji handed him a small form. “Here. Fill out your leave application for school. I’ll submit it tomorrow.”

---

The next morning, the phone rang.

Eunji picked up and immediately recognized the voice on the other end. Their mother.

“Eomma? Are you okay?”

There was a pause.

“Just a little unwell,” her mother said gently. “Your appa’s a bit worse though. He’s barely eating. I… I need help, Eunji-ya.”

Eunji’s face fell. “I’ll come right away.”

She glanced toward the living room where YN was half-asleep on the couch, and Yoongi was tucking a blanket over her feet.

A part of her hesitated.

But then she saw how softly her son looked at YN — with a mix of protectiveness, care, and something deeper that she couldn’t quite name.

---

That evening, Eunji finished packing a small suitcase.

“I’m going to eomma’s house,” she told Yoongi in the hallway. “Appa isn’t doing well.”

Yoongi nodded. “How long will you be gone?”

“A week, maybe more. Depends on how things go. You’ll be okay, right?”

He nodded again, a bit more firmly. “Don’t worry about us. I’ll take care of Aunt YN.”

Eunji smiled and ruffled his hair. “I know you will.”

---

That night, the house felt different.

Quiet. Still.

No K-drama volume echoing from the living room. No Eunji shouting “Yoongi, refill the water jug!” from the kitchen. No footsteps from the master bedroom.

Just two cups of tea sitting untouched on the coffee table.

And the low buzz of rain outside the window.

YN sat curled up in a blanket on the couch, flipping through channels. Yoongi walked in and gently placed her medicine on the table.

“You need to take this before bed,” he said.

YN looked up. “You don’t have to do everything, Yoongi. I’m feeling better.”

Yoongi crouched down in front of her, brows drawn together. “Then don’t lie about the headache you were hiding all day.”

YN stared at him. “How did you—?”

“You kept blinking your right eye more often,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. “You do that when you’re in pain.”

YN blinked — once, slowly — heart doing something weird in her chest.

Yoongi sighed and sat beside her. “You’re not alone this time. You don’t have to be strong in front of me.”

A silence fell.

The sound of rain filled the space between them.

“You’re so different now,” YN said softly.

“I’ve always been like this,” Yoongi whispered. “You just never saw it.”

YN turned to look at him, really look at him — the curve of his jaw, the concern in his eyes, the way he held back so much behind that quiet face.

She was scared of what she might see if she looked too long.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, standing carefully.

Yoongi stood too. “Wait— let me help—”

But she gently stopped him. “Thank you, Yoongi. For everything.”

He watched her walk toward her room, each step slow, careful.

And the ache in his chest returned.

Because now… it was just them.

And though the silence between them was gentle — filled with warm tea, and shared memories, and soft concern — it was also heavy with the one thing neither of them dared say out loud.

Yet.

---

The rain hadn’t stopped all evening.

The gentle patter against the windows made the entire house feel quieter, softer — like the walls were holding their breath.

YN had just finished brushing her hair and walked into her dimly lit room when she paused at the sight in front of her.

Yoongi was there. Already inside. Laying a spare pillow on the other side of her bed.

“What,” YN said slowly, crossing her arms, “are you doing?”

Yoongi looked up innocently. “Getting ready to sleep.”

“In my room?”

“Yep.”

“On my bed?”

“On the side that’s closest to the wall,” he added sweetly. “Very humble of me, right?”

YN blinked. “Yoongi. You have your own room. And your own bed.”

“But what if you need something in the middle of the night?” he asked, tilting his head like a kicked puppy. “Like water? Or your medicine? Or help walking to the bathroom?”

YN narrowed her eyes. “I’ll call you.”

“But what if you faint and can’t call me?” he gasped, putting a hand over his chest dramatically.

“Yoongi—”

“I’d never forgive myself,” he said, flopping back dramatically onto the mattress. “Imagine me waking up in the morning and finding out you passed out while I was snoring comfortably in another room.”

YN stared.

Yoongi peeked at her with one eye open.

“Still gonna kick me out, Aunt YN?”

YN sighed loudly, rubbing her temples. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“But you’re letting me stay, right?” he asked, already pulling the blanket up like he lived there.

“I’m not agreeing—”

“Thanks, Aunt YN,” he said quickly, snuggling into his pillow. “You’re the best.”

YN looked at him for a second. His face was mostly hidden under the blanket, but his eyes peeked out — content, boyish, and full of mischief.

She turned away before her heart could do anything stupid.

“You’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t cross to my side.”

“Crossing your side is illegal. Got it.”

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“…Goodnight, Aunt YN.”

---

Midnight.

The storm outside grew louder. Lightning flashed once, briefly lighting up the room.

YN stirred, turning her head slightly.

Yoongi was still on his side of the bed — back facing her, hair messy on the pillow. His breathing was slow and steady.

For a moment, she just… watched him.

He had grown up so much.

But tonight, he looked like the same boy she held in her arms after Eunji’s delivery — the same boy who’d follow her around, cling to her legs, sneak into her blanket fort just to nap near her.

Except now… he wasn’t a boy anymore.

And she wasn’t sure when her heart had started to notice.

YN closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath.

She didn’t know what was happening between them.

But tonight… she was glad he stayed.

---

The storm had softened into a drizzle outside, the kind that tapped gently on the windows like a lullaby.

Inside the room, the air was still. Warm. Intimate.

YN lay awake on her side, the blanket pulled up to her chest. Her head rested on the pillow, turned toward the sleeping boy next to her.

Except he wasn’t a boy anymore.

Yoongi had fallen asleep facing her — soft breaths escaping through parted lips, one arm curled beneath the pillow, the other resting inches from her hand.

And even in sleep… his presence wrapped around her like a comfort she didn’t know she needed.

YN’s throat tightened.

She reached out hesitantly, fingers hovering over his cheek — afraid to touch, afraid not to.

Then, gently… she placed her palm on his face.

His skin was warm. Soft. Safe.

And that was when the tears came.

Quiet. Slow. One by one.

“Yoongia…” she whispered brokenly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Why are you making this so hard for me?”

He stirred slightly, but didn’t wake.

YN smiled through the tears. “You sleep like you don’t carry the weight of my entire heart.”

Her fingers moved across his face — his lashes, his nose, his jaw that had grown sharper in the past year.

Then, slowly… carefully… she leaned in.

And pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

A tear slipped from her eye and landed on his skin where her lips had just been.

“You have everything I ever dreamed of in a man…” she whispered shakily. “You’re kind… gentle… protective. You listen. You see me. All of me.”

Her voice broke.

“But you’re my nephew … Yoongia, I watched you grow up. I was the first to hold you. I cheered when you took your first step. I helped you learn to write your name.”

She clenched the blanket in her fists.

“You’re so young. You have your whole life ahead. And your mother…” her voice faltered, “your mother is my sister. If she ever knew what’s growing between us…”

Her shoulders shook silently.

“I can’t hurt her. I can’t ruin your peace. I can’t destroy what little family we have left.”

She leaned closer, her forehead barely touching his.

“I want to run, Yoongia. I want to run away from this feeling. But every time you look at me like I’m the only person in your world, I lose a piece of my resolve.”

Another tear rolled down.

“You are everything I need in a man… but you hope to be my nephew.”

Her lips trembled as she whispered the last words.

“I love you too much… to ruin you.”

She pulled back slowly, wiping her cheeks.

And as she turned away to face the wall, curling into herself, her body shook with the cries she wouldn’t let herself make aloud.

Beside her, Yoongi slept on — unaware of the storm that had passed silently between their hearts.

But maybe... just maybe...

his heart had already heard it all.

---

The next morning, the rain had stopped, but the sky remained grey — like the world was holding its breath.

YN hadn’t slept much. Her eyes were slightly swollen, and her body felt heavy from emotions she had buried all night under her pillow.

She had kissed him.

Softly. Secretly. While he slept.

And now… she didn’t know how to exist near him.

But fate had other plans.

---

Yoongi woke up slowly, blinking against the soft morning light spilling through the curtains. He rolled to his side, expecting the usual space between them.

But instead… she was already awake. Sitting up, hugging her knees, head resting on the bedframe as if lost in thought.

“Aunt YN…?”

She flinched slightly at his voice.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered, still not looking at him.

But Yoongi didn’t answer right away.

He sat up — still half-asleep, hair messy, face soft — and stared at her in silence for a long moment.

Then, without a word… he reached forward and pulled her into his arms.

YN froze.

“Yoongi—”

But he didn’t let go. His arms tightened around her waist as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in like he needed it to survive.

“I don’t know what you’re running from,” he murmured against her skin, “but I just want to stay like this for a little while.”

YN’s hands trembled. Slowly, helplessly… she wrapped her arms around him too.

Her chin rested on his shoulder. Her fingers clutched the back of his shirt. Her chest pressed against his in a rhythm too matched to be innocent.

She could feel everything — his heartbeat, his breath, the warmth of his skin — and it made her ache in places words couldn’t reach.

“Yoongi…” she whispered.

He didn’t lift his head.

And she didn’t move.

She only leaned back just enough… to look at him.

His eyes were closed, lashes resting gently, lips parted slightly. Trusting. So soft. So close.

Something inside her cracked.

And without thinking — without asking for permission from her logic or her fear — she leaned in…

…and placed a gentle, barely-there kiss to his lips.

His breath caught.

Her eyes opened in shock at what she’d just done.

She pulled back instantly, trembling. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t supposed to—”

But Yoongi finally opened his eyes.

And he looked at her like the whole universe had just tilted into place.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you felt it too.”

YN’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I don’t know what to do, Yoongia… You’re—”

“Mine,” he finished quietly, forehead pressing against hers. “I don’t care what the world says. You’ve always been mine.”

And YN?

She didn’t deny it this time.

Because for once… she let her heart answer louder than her fear.

---

The rain had stopped.

The clouds were clearing outside, the sky tinted with soft peach and silver as evening approached.

Inside the house, time seemed to still.

YN sat quietly at the edge of her bed, her fingertips brushing over her lips where she had kissed him earlier — a kiss too brief, too sudden, but unforgettable.

And now, Yoongi stood in front of her.

Not saying anything.

Just… looking at her.

His eyes weren’t wide with shock or full of confusion.

They were calm.

Certain.

He stepped forward slowly, as if giving her time to run — but she didn’t move. Not this time.

“You kissed me,” he whispered.

YN closed her eyes for a second. “I know…”

He knelt in front of her, gently taking her hands in his. “Was it a mistake?”

Her breath caught.

“Or… was it finally the truth?”

YN couldn’t look away. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “I don’t know how to love you out loud, Yoongia. The world won’t understand.”

“Then don’t say it out loud,” he murmured, eyes searching hers. “Just… let your heart speak.”

He stood slowly, guiding her up with him.

They stood close — too close.

The air between them was fragile, soft, humming with things they’d both held back for too long.

YN lifted her hand and gently cupped his cheek.

“Yoongia…”

That was all she managed.

Because in the next breath — he leaned in.

And this time, she didn’t stop him.

Their lips met slowly.

No rush. No hunger. Just warmth.

A soft, lingering kiss that felt like rain after a long drought.

His hands rested carefully on her waist, her fingers tangled gently in his hair. Their noses brushed. Their hearts synced. And for a long moment… nothing else mattered.

It was quiet.

Safe.

The kind of kiss you give when your soul finally recognizes its home.

When they pulled apart — just barely — Yoongi whispered against her lips:

“I don’t care if it’s wrong. I just know it’s real.”

YN rested her forehead against his.

Tears threatened her again — but this time, they weren’t from fear.

They were from something terrifying and beautiful all at once.

Hope.

---

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, warm and golden. A quiet breeze played with the corners of the bedsheet as YN stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying her damp hair.

Today was a small local temple visit — a tradition she and Eunji followed every month. Even though Eunji wasn’t home, YN thought maybe she should still go. Maybe pray for peace… or maybe just for courage.

She opened her cupboard and pulled out a soft lavender saree — delicate, simple, yet beautiful.

But her hands trembled slightly.

She hadn’t worn one in a while, and her head still ached lightly from time to time. The thought of struggling with pins and pleats made her sigh.

Just then, a soft knock.

“Aunt YN… can I come in?”

She turned toward the door. “Yes, come.”

Yoongi peeked inside. His messy hair, oversized shirt, and that sleepy softness on his face made her heart flutter for no reason at all.

“You okay?” he asked, noticing the saree in her hands.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just… I haven’t worn this in a while. I think I’ll need some help.”

Yoongi walked in slowly. “Help with what?”

YN hesitated.

Then softly, eyes avoiding his, she mumbled, “The pleats. And the pallu…”

Yoongi blinked. “You… want me to help you wear your saree?”

“You can say no,” she said quickly, embarrassed.

But Yoongi stepped closer. “Turn around.”

---

Her breath caught.

She turned, holding the pleats in front of her chest, the back of the fabric hanging loosely down her waist.

Yoongi came to stand behind her — close, but not touching.

His hands reached slowly, fingers trembling just slightly as he gently took the end of the saree.

He folded the pleats carefully, one after another, pressing them together with the kind of focus he usually gave only to music.

Then, softly, he tucked them into the waistband of her petticoat.

YN’s breath hitched.

His fingertips barely brushed her skin, but every touch felt like fire. Her chest rose and fell quickly, heartbeat echoing in her ears.

“Too tight?” he asked gently.

“No,” she whispered. “It’s… perfect.”

He moved to the pallu next, carefully placing it over her shoulder. It slipped.

“Sorry,” he said, voice soft, catching it again. “Hold still.”

YN bit her lip, cheeks warm, as his fingers grazed her collarbone to pin the fabric in place.

She turned slightly, her eyes meeting his just inches away.

“Thank you,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Yoongi didn’t look away. “You look beautiful.”

Her lips parted to say something — maybe to stop him, maybe to let him keep going — but the words never came.

Because in that moment…

He stepped forward, slowly, and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder — just above where the pallu rested.

YN closed her eyes.

Not because she was afraid.

But because for the first time… she didn’t want to hide the way it made her feel.

---

The house was quiet again.

After the saree was finally draped and pinned, YN sat by the window, combing her now-dry hair while the soft light made her lavender saree glow. There was something different in the air — a stillness that didn’t feel empty.

Yoongi stood near the door, watching her.

Noticing every small thing — the way her fingers trembled slightly when she touched her necklace, the curve of her back, the little sigh she let out when she thought no one was listening.

He walked closer.

She noticed.

But didn’t turn.

“YN.”

The name came out soft. Just her name.

No “aunt.”

Just... YN.

She froze — hand mid-air, breath catching like her soul had skipped.

Her heart thudded hard in her chest.

Slowly, she turned her head toward him. “What… did you just call me?”

Yoongi took another step forward. “YN.”

There it was again. No hesitation. No shame.

Just the name of the woman he loved — the woman who had been more than just an “aunt” to him for a long time now.

Her eyes searched his, mouth parted, but no words came out.

Yoongi leaned in gently, pausing right in front of her.

“I’ve said it a hundred times in my heart,” he whispered, “but this is the first time I’m saying it to you.”

YN’s lashes fluttered.

“Say something,” he murmured.

But YN couldn’t.

Her breath trembled as her hand slowly reached for his shirt, clinging softly to the fabric near his chest — not pulling him closer, but not pushing him away either.

Yoongi’s hand gently lifted to touch her face, thumb brushing the corner of her lip.

“YN…” he breathed again, reverent this time. Like it was the most sacred word in his vocabulary.

And then…

he kissed her.

Softly.

Warmly.

No rush. No force.

Just a quiet, soul-deep connection that said everything their mouths couldn’t.

YN’s eyes closed, her hand resting on his chest as she leaned into it, letting the kiss wrap around her like a sigh.

And for the first time…

She kissed him back.

---

The kitchen was quiet, except for the low bubbling sound of water boiling in the kettle. The warm smell of ginger and cardamom filled the air as YN stood by the stove, carefully adding tea leaves to the simmering water.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, humming softly — just like she used to when Yoongi was younger and sick, and she’d make him warm honey tea.

But now… everything felt different.

Especially when she felt arms suddenly wrap around her from behind.

“Yoongi…” she whispered in surprise.

He didn’t let go.

He rested his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes like her warmth was his home.

“Aren’t you too old for back hugs?” she said softly, trying to hide the way her heart skipped.

“I’m nineteen,” he mumbled into her neck. “I’m exactly the right age to hug the woman I love while she’s making tea.”

YN’s breath hitched.

His words weren’t playful.

They were soft… sincere… real.

She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t, really. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the sugar jar.

Yoongi noticed.

He smiled, tightening his arms around her waist like a kid clinging to something precious.

“You know this is my first time?” he whispered.

“What is?” she asked, barely holding her voice steady.

“This,” he said. “Waking up next to someone I love. Stealing kisses. Hugging her while she makes tea. Worrying about how she’s feeling before I even open my eyes.”

YN turned slightly, just enough to see his face from the corner of her eye.

Yoongi’s cheeks were pink, eyes shy, lips curled in a tiny smile.

“You’re my first love, YN.”

There it was again.

YN. No aunt. No labels.

Just her. As a woman. As his woman.

“And I think…” he added with a tiny grin, “I might also want you to be my last.”

YN’s hand stilled over the spoon.

The tea bubbled behind them.

“Yoongia…” she breathed.

He leaned in and placed a soft kiss behind her ear.

“I know it’s complicated. I know we can’t say anything. But here, in this kitchen, right now… I just want to be the boy who loves you.”

YN finally turned in his arms — slowly, carefully — and looked up at him.

His gaze held no mischief this time.

Just a soft, honest glow that made her eyes sting.

She cupped his cheek gently.

And for a moment, they didn’t say anything.

Because love was already spilling…

Quietly. Gently.

Like warm tea in porcelain cups.

---

STAY TUNE FOR PART 2 OF THIS.....

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