Back home, Yoongi's hands trembled as he unclasped Tae's necklace—the one he'd given her on their first anniversary of their relationship—letting it pool on the dresser like liquid silver between their shaky breaths. "Last time," he murmured against her lips, the words tasting of salt and tequila. 

His kiss was softer than usual, almost reverent, fingertips tracing the curve of her jaw where Jungkook's stubble had left marks. Tae's tears smeared against his cheeks as he peeled her dress down her shoulders, his palms skating over the honey-bruises blooming across her collarbone—his bruises, his last claims.