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Out of Time

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If there was one thing Yoongi wanted to avoid, it was love. It wasn’t really love itself that he found nauseating, though the prospect of it did linger inside him. In many ways, Yoongi feared that love was setting yourself up for failure. There was never a guarantee that love lasts.


Yoongi liked consistency.


He liked something permanent, something real and reliable. He liked stability. He liked knowing when something or someone was right for him and his life. So he didn’t like love. And what else did this idea of love bring to the world Yoongi lived in? What else proved to him that love was only a scam and further burrowed away his desires to search for his ”one?”


It was how society treated the prospect of love, and the act of finding your soulmate, that propelled him away from it. Nearly his whole life, he fought it off. Rolled his eyes whenever he heard the familiar ceremonial ring go off nearby, scoffed as he watched the green glow alight and the colorful sparks emit, snorted when he heard the cliche “It’s you?”


Finding your soulmate was an act of capitalism.


Yoongi didn’t like capitalism.


So, it was quite the shock the day he found himself planted in a bright red faux leather chair, his arm strapped to the armrest, and his best friend gripping his hand anxiously.


“Remind me why I’m here?” Yoongi groaned sourly, his nose scrunched in distaste as he squinted his eyes at the sight before him. His catlike eyes seemed only more feline-esque as he observed how medical this all was. From the way his arm was held down by leather straps, one on his bicep, the other just below the crook of his elbow, it seemed like something bigger was going to happen. It was uncomfortable and constraining, making him feel hot coals of anxiety sitting in the pit of his stomach.


“Because you need to.” Namjoon sighed, letting his slim fingers slip between Yoongi’s clammy ones as a sign of support. “You’re twenty four and still grumbling over this.”


“Just because you found your soulmate doesn’t mean I need to find mine.” Yoongi spat back, already regretting his decision to do this, as he only really did it to appease his nagging best friend. Definitely not because he was aware that he was about to hit his mid twenties, alone, while all of his friends began to pair off. “I don’t need to do anything. I’m content with the life I live. No one needs a soul mate.”


“You need to find yours. I know you want to find them, hyung. I know you want to fall in love and settle down and-”


“That’s what you want, Joon. And you have it now, with Ggukie. I want to keep making music and live my life peacefully. And I have peace when I am alone.”


“No you don’t. You’re only being so difficult because you want to stick to your image, but I know you want to find love. Why else would you have agreed to finally come?”


“Which is the exact reason you are here!” A voice suddenly chirped, a spritely looking woman in a white medical coat entering the room. “Getting this implant is the exact step you need to find your soulmate.”


“Hello, Doctor.” Namjoon smiled brightly at the approaching physician, the way he clenched his hand around Yoongi’s a silent warning to be polite. Yoongi finally teared his drudging gaze away from his restrained arm up to the expectant looking doctor who had a smile so rigid it made him a million times more anxious.


“I take it the handsome fellow in the chair is Yoongi, correct? You’re a bit grown to be in my office.” The doctor observed as she approached the steel basin sink in the corner of the room, ducking her hands under a faucet where she washed them vigorously. Yoongi’s hesitant eyes followed her petite hands, from the lathering process all the way up to when she slid on blue rubber gloves. The slight snap of the rubber against her wrist made him flinch in the slightest. Namjoon caught onto Yoongi’s new rush of discomfort, for the excited male squeezed his hand yet again, this time more reassuringly. “I normally get parents bringing in their children at age sixteen, but I get adults often too. Don’t feel discouraged.”


“Can we just get this over with?” Yoongi mumbled, his chest beginning to heave a bit as he watched her pull open a drawer beside the sink. She retracted what seemed like a tweezer-like instrument, a scalpel, and finally a sterilized package about the size of a pink school eraser. She placed them on a standing tray lined with medical grade sterile paper, arranging them carefully before rolling the tray towards Yoongi. The doctor simply chuckled, her laugh tingling like bells as she then sat in a rolling chair, swiftly appearing in front of Yoongi’s trapped arm.


“Of course. It’s a quick procedure, so I’m sure you must want to hurry on out. You are a grown man with a life to attend to!” She giggled yet again, the sound not as sweet as Yoongi originally thought. It was much more robotic. Instantly, he began to tremble in his seat, fingers aching between Namjoon’s steady own. The doctor realized her dry humor received no positive reaction, his brows raising in disdain before looking between Yoongi and Namjoon with a forced smile. “Right. Okay, well this will sting a little. I often start a conversation with the client to help ease their mind. Is that okay? We can chat to keep you relaxed.”


“No, it’s okay.” Yoongi tried with a forced smile of his own. Despite his discomfort and slight annoyance, he did want to be polite to the woman who would be cutting into his skin at any moment now. “I just want it done, and fast.”


“That’s fine, then. So, the way this works, is that if your soulmate also has their implant, then it will instantly begin to count down. Upon meeting them, you will know who it is for this-” She picked up the eraser sized package and tore open the plastic on one end, removing a small white and silver bar with what seemed like a small screen across the top. “Will flash green and begin to ring. I’m sure you’ve seen it, so you will know what to look out for.”


Yoongi knew she was doing this to distract him, and sure he was listening to the information intently, but his eyes were trained on how she set aside the item and sterilized his wrist with a sort of brown fluid that came from a small vial. He watched as she touched his skin gingerly yet firm, as if expecting him to writhe in his seat. Her grip made him wonder just how much this would truly sting, a lump forming in his throat as the doctor picking up the scalpel. Stuff like this normally didn't bother him too much, having had actual surgeries in his life before, but this time… This time, the purpose of the procedure had him almost nauseous. The doctor cleared her throat, catching his attention once again so he would look up at her questioningly.


“I hope you aware that soulmates are not always in your preference. Gender isn’t a construct in soulmates, and oftentimes we get people who become angry with us when they meet their soulmate whose gender is not that of which they normally prefer. It’s not our fault. Soulmates are bound by soul for a reason.”


“I know about that. My best friend, Namjoon’s-” Yoongi peered over at this best friend who watched with curious eyes, lips curled up in an excited grin despite how silent he had been. “soulmate is a guy. A really great one at that.”


“Awe thanks, hyung. I’m glad you like him.” Joon’s eyes softened, making Yoongi’s heart clench in the slightest. Seeing how content Namjoon appeared at the mention of Jeongguk made the elder feel a little less worried about the ordeal. Sometimes, loves does workout. Only sometimes.


“Well as long as my best friend is hap- Ow!” Yoongi gasped out as he suddenly felt the small blade pierce his skin. The doctor cut two diagonal slits across his skin, facing from his palm to the forearm. The slits felt thin yet incredibly deep compared to how gentle of pressure was applied by the woman bearing the now slightly stained blade.


“Keep talking.” The doctor instructed casually, causing Namjoon to try and snatch Yoongi’s attention again so he wouldn’t look down at the “operation” occuring.


“Gguk likes you too, hyung. He thinks you’re a really good influence in my life, always supporting and helping me with my music. He supports my music, too. Oh! And he has the voice of an angel, hyung. I swear I’m gonna get him on a track someday.” Namjoon rushed out, tugging in Yoongi’s free hand. He sounded excited yet dazed, always loving the opportunity to talk about his boyfriend. Yoongi took slow deliberate breaths, ignoring the way his eyes watered from the stinging in his wrist as he processed each word he was being told.

Yoongi did not know Jeongguk too well, but they did get along easily. He remembered the day it happened, too. The day Namjoon found Jeongguk. Namjoon had been fussing over his Timer, a true believer of love like his parents did. He had gotten the implant at sixteen, like most people did. It wasn’t all Namjoon talked about, growing up with Yoongi, but he did mention it often. The younger dreamed of finding someone to make beautiful music with and love till the end of time. Yoongi knew Namjoon wasn’t disappointed the day the Timer went off, a week after Namjoon had just turned twenty two.


Namjoon was anxious that day, glancing around wildly with each passing minute. Yoongi had to convince Namjoon to stop searching, claiming that if it was indeed fate then rushing it wouldn’t help. Of course, Yoongi followed it up with how fate is a social construct built to feed capitalism, but Namjoon ignored that part. He agreed to ease up on the search, letting Yoongi convince him to go out and scope out the local record store near their studio.


In their search for their friend Jimin’s latest album, the pair had actually forgotten about the Timer. That is, until Namjoon brushed hands with a younger male as the two reached for the same CD. When their eyes met, small sparks began to rain around them, a small triumphant tune ringing about as they stood there, wide eyed and in awe. Yoongi couldn’t help but groan, stepping away to let the two have their moment, a feeling he couldn’t quite place sitting heavy in his heart as he heard the often claimed, “It’s you.”


“Well, whoever my mate is better support my music too. I may not care about gender, but I put my career above everything else.” Yoongi’s voice was strained, coming back from the year old memory, as he felt cold metal suddenly touch his pained wrist. He groaned at the intrusion of the pegs of the device sliding into the created slots in his skin. The moment the gadget was in place, Yoongi could feel what seemed like shocks of electricity thrumming through his veins, coursing through his body at high speed, up until he heard a small beep.


“There. It’s in place and turning o- woah.” The doctor gasped incredulously, bringing her hands back in surprise as she looked up at Yoongi in utter disbelief.


“What? What’s wrong?” Yoongi looked at her shocked expression with one of his own in bewilderment, trying to read her expression. He quickly gave up though, tearing his gaze down to his wrist.


“Holy shit.” Namjoon mumbled beside him, peering over Yoongi’s now trembling shoulders. Yoongi’s eyes were wide, his chest heaving wildly as he began to hyperventilate, the anxious coils returning in his stomach as he watched the way the Timer on his wrist quickly ticked down the time.




“What? How is this possible?” Yoongi mumbled, his words coming in slurs from his shock. He didn’t think something like this could happen. “I’m here. How am I supposedly meeting my soulmate in just over an hour? This is too soon!”


“I’ve never seen a Timer start so quickly.” The doctor confessed as she began to frantically clean up, putting away the scalpel and vials in their respectful bins. She snapped her gloves off and tossed them into the waste bin before coming over to release Yoongi’s arm from their confines.


“I can’t.” Yoongi mumbled suddenly. “I can’t.” This time louder. “No, I can’t!”


“It’s okay, sir. At least you know there’s no long wai- Yoongi?” The doctor jumped back as Yoongi suddenly burst from his seat. He snatched his hand away from Namjoon’s as he made for the door, the urge to run as far as possible aching him. This was too much, too soon, for him. He shouldn’t have let Namjoon convince him to do this.


“You can’t avoid fate.” The doctor tried to reason as she hurriedly followed after him, Namjoon close behind.


“Take it back out then. I don’t want to know anymore!”


“It’s too soon. Their Timer has started as well. You can’t take that away from them.” The doctor explained as they reached the front desk, where Yoongi demanded to sign his discharge papers as quickly as possible. He was frantic, eyes wide in horror as he shook off Namjoon, whose hands were trying to grip at his shoulders reassuringly. The doctor urged the receptionist to hand over the necessary paperwork, clearly flustered by Yoongi’s outlash.


“I’m going to go lock myself in my studio then. Avoid everyone for the rest of the day.” It sounded like he was telling himself more than anyone else.


“Yoongi, that won’t work.” Namjoon groaned, knowing there was no point in arguing with his elder, finally giving up on trying to ground the man. Yoongi was going to do whatever he wanted to.


“This was a mistake. I don’t need a soulmate. I need my music.”


If there was one thing Yoongi wanted to avoid, it was love. The truth was, it was more than just about capitalism or his image. Now it was about the fear of possibly loving someone who may not support his livelihood. He didn’t expect to be as lucky as Namjoon. Not everyone is that lucky, and they all knew it.


He feared so much, knowing he could potentially disappoint them or lose them. He only relied on so much. He wasn’t ready to rely on someone else now.


Once the papers were signed, Yoongi ushered Namjoon to the car, ignoring the soreness of his wrist, which suddenly began to feel weighted with every passing moment he thought about what it meant. He climbed into the driver’s seat, hands trembling as he struggled to stick the key in the ignition.


A comforting hand rested on his own.


“It’s going to be okay, Yoongi. Whoever they are, they’re meant for you. Stop worrying, and don’t try to avoid it.” Namjoon tried in a gentle tone, his eyes ploring for Yoongi to actually listen for once. Instead, Yoongi took a deep breath, finally shoving the key into the ignition and starting the car.


“Not everyone is as lucky as you, Namjoon.”


The drive felt much too long to Yoongi, constantly peeking down at the Timer on his wrist and how it ticked away menacingly. He could sense Namjoon’s unease, constantly warding off the younger every time he tried to speak up. He didn’t need comfort or persuasion. He needed his studio. By the time they entered the parking lot of BigHit, Yoongi was completely trembling now. His anxiety roared inside him, pulsing in his ears as he almost haphazardly parked. He didn’t even get to turn off the car when he made the mistake to check his wrist yet again.




“I refuse.” He suddenly blurted almost angrily, bolting from the driver’s seat and towards the nearest entrance to the building.He was aware he left Namjoon baffled and alone in the still idling vehicle, but he didn’t care. He knew his best friend would lock up for him. He just needed to go.


Everything felt like it was taking too long, from scanning his ID card to get inside the building, to waiting for the elevator. The need to hide in his studio amplified as every passing minute ticked away, each moment feeling like hours. It made him feel sick, and all he wanted to do was avoid every single human being on this planet. The heavy steel door of the elevator finally opened to expose the floor in which his studio was on. His studio was on the other end of the floor, but it was only a quick walk, taking seconds if he simply ran. He just didn’t need anyone in his way.




Of course, luck was not on his side. It seemed everyone else had to be there that day too. Jimin and Taehyung were being what Yoongi defined as obnoxious, the two riding in the halls with a bicycle. It was reckless, the two weaving in and out of the various employees who were milling around, filling the air with boisterous laughter and chastising. Yoongi cursed under his breath as he tried to dodge around the disarray of the halls, trying to avoid contact with neither Jimin nor Taehyung in fear they would slow him down. As he maneuvered around the chaos before him, he dared to glance just one more time.




“MOVE IT!” Yoongi practically roared when he looked up to see the bicycle heading right for him. He shoved past the two boys, jumping over Jimin who had accidentally knocked into the wall as an effect of the near collison. He then knocked into Seokjin who was turning the corner and into the mess created there in the hall. He pushed his hyung aside, Seokjin colliding into the wall where he glared at Yoongi in dismay.


“What’s your problem!” Seokjin called back as they all watched Yoongi’s retreating back take the corner, his studio just at the end of the hall. He just needed to pass the dance practice room and Namjoon’s studio itself before he got to his own. Yoongi almost sighed in relief, that is, until he saw a stranger standing in front of his studio door, ringing the buzzer impatiently.


“Fuck.” He whispered, whipping his head around to find an escape.




He opted to throw himself into the only available door.




He threw open the frosted glass door of the dance practice room.




He nearly slammed the door shut, tossing his back against the door where he sagged against it in relief.




He put his shaking hands on his knees, doing his best to catch his breath, glad he escaped the possible meeting with whoever stood outside.




Stuck in his reverie, Yoongi didn’t notice the music pumping from speakers inside the very room he stood in.




Or the fact the music abruptly stopped.




Or the footsteps that crossed to him apprehensively.




Or the fact that his own labored breaths were not the only ones in the room.




“Hey, are you okay?”




Yoongi looked up in terror, completely caught off guard at the fact someone was there in the studio. He didn’t consider the fact that, yes, someone could be practicing at this time. His eyes grew wide, locking onto the concerned ones as a sudden ceremonial chirping rang out from his wrist, the tune echoed from the person right in front of him. Suddenly, green flashes of color rained over them, a shock of electricity tingling up form the soles of Yoongi’s feet all the way up to his fingertips and even to his ears.


“Oh my god.” The dark haired male muttered, the only voice breaking over the finals ringing that emanated around them.


“Fuck.” Yoongi gasped, straightening up so he pressed his sweat dampened back flush against the door. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”


“You’re my soulmate.” The other exclaimed in disbelief, his voice more of a hushed whisper than anything.


“Fuck, this can’t be.” Yoongi cried out in disbelief, whipping his head back and forth as he shrunk against the door even closer.


“What? I- ? Is it cause I’m a guy?” The man questioned, his expression instantly turned from surprise to hurt as he took a small step back, and away from Yoongi.


“No, it’s - Fuck.” Yoongi sputtered, feeling his heart ramming against his ribcage so hard he thought he could pass out. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was a guy.


He was just rendered speechless by how stunning this specific guy was.


Despite the light film of sweat that covered his honey toned skin, the male wore a comfortable button up shirt, the top buttons undone casually. Paired with shorts and sneakers that complimented the outfit well, and - “Is that a pouch?” Yoongi questioned aloud at the fuzzy colorful pouch that hung from the man’s waist.


“What? You meet your soulmate and you ask me about my pouch? I-”




Yoongi looked up at the male’s bewildered expression, floored by his statue-esque bone structure, his warm inviting eyes and -


He chuckled. The man chuckled, slowly turning into a full blown round of breathless laughter that illuminated his face, causing the most breathtaking smile Yoongi had ever seen to show.


“You said that already. In fact, you said ‘fuck’ about a thousand times. Look, can we properly meet? My soulmate?” The man asked, stepping forward a bit. “I know I’m a mess, I had dance practice.” He held his hand out apprehensively, which Yoongi stared at in shock.


Dance practice.


He was here at the studio.




“Fuck.” Yoongi mumbled again at the realization that most of his fears for this moment were disproven. That whoever this person was, indeed loved music too. Probably as much as Yoongi did if he was practicing away on a warm Saturday afternoon instead of enjoying the common day off.


“Okay, 'fuck.' I’m Jung Hoseok.” Hoseok wiggled his fingers at Yoongi, as if reminding him that his hand remained hovering in the air, waiting to be grasped.


“Yoongi. Min Yoongi.” He finally sputtered out, still not taking Hoseok’s hand. The sweaty male rolled his eyes slightly, a smile so warm forming that it was like sunshine. Yoongi suddenly had the urge to just bask in Hoseok and his smile, chest swelling as he observed the other.


“I don’t bite, Yoongi. Come here.” Hoseok, with his hand still outreached, grasped Yoongi’s sore wrist and tugged him close, suddenly enveloping the still befuddled Yoongi around the waist.


“You might as well get used to me, Yoongi. We’re destined to be together.”


“I- fuck.” Yoongi breathed out, slowly letting his arms slither around Hoseok’s shoulders, thoughts racing through his head a million miles per hour.




“So you really went through all of that to avoid him?” Jeongguk mused with a cup of berry tea clasped in his hands, his laugh broad and baby-like. “Didn’t they tell you you can’t run from fate?”


“We tried, babe.” Namjoon chirped in, bringing his arm around his mate’s shoulders. “I just let him do his thing for a reason.”


“Oh shut up.” Yoongi snapped, rolling his eyes with a grumble of irritance as he brought his arms over his chest. He couldn’t help the slight pout forming on his lips. When did he become such a soft person?


“It was kinda cute, actually. He just stood there saying ‘fuck' a million times while checking me out.”


“I said shut up!” Yoongi exclaimed yet again, shooting Hoseok a glare, in which he was faced with a teasing smile that caused his tension to ease. He could never be mad when Hoseok smiled at him like that.


“You were the cutest, babe. You still are.” Hoseok curled his arms around his mate’s waist, pulling Yoongi even closer to his chest, as if possible. One would think Yoongi sitting on Hoseok’s lap at this moment was close enough for them, but the taller male was a sucker for affection - something he warmed Yoongi up to. 


“I hate you.” Yoongi grumbled, his cheeks tinting a slight pink in embarrassment.


“No you love me. You fell for me before I did you. It took you about a month after meeting till you said th-”


“Hobi, stop!” Yoongi dropped his face into Hoseok’s shoulder, not being able to endure anymore humiliation.


“Wow.” Jeongguk sighed suddenly, dropping his head onto Namjoon’s shoulder. “This is the happiest I've ever seen Yoongi.”


“Wait till you hear Hobi’s and Yoon’s track together. It’s gonna drop on Hobi’s mixtape.” Namjoon claimed proudly, knowing it made Yoongi only melt further into his boyfriend’s hold as if trying to disappear. “We might do a track together too. All three of us.”


Yoongi felt a press of warm lips to the top of his head, making him turn into near putty as he listened to the way the conversation carried on. A few months ago, he would be so embarrassed to be seen so vulnerable and soft with his soulmate like this. But at this point, Yoongi was happier and more in love than he could have ever imagined. Everything about his blossoming relationship with Hoseok disbanded all his fears. The man at his side supported his music day in and day out, spent late nights with him in the studio, fed him when he was too exhausted to feed himself. Hoseok was always there to give constructive criticism and praise, being Yoongi’s support when he needed it most. Yoongi did the same for Hoseok, finding himself sitting in at his mate’s dance practices and cheering him on. Whatever work Yoongi put into the relationship, Hoseok met in equal turn.


Yoongi used to avoid love.


Now he just embraces it, thankful that the now quiet Timer on his wrist had ever existed.