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we'll dream the same dream

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unlike most, min yoongi meets his soulmate when he’s nine years old. it’s nothing but a slight accident on his part and there’s a little voice at the back of his head wondering why didn’t you say anything until now but his heart overrides it.

so it happens like this. during art class yoongi accidentally marks the back of his left hand with a black dot the size of his pinky nail. doesn’t think anything of it until something like ticklish velvet is sighing across his skin. yoongi frowns and rolls down his sleeve (later wonders how his soulmate would feel if they knew that he mistook them for a bug, at first) and there on the side of his left wrist is a wobbly response in purple marker:

do u live in a house

except the word house isn’t written out, since at the time his soulmate is seven. instead there’s a pile of awkward shapes that slightly resemble a house if yoongi squints hard enough. he looks up. nobody’s noticed the words that have just magically written themselves out on his arm and this is how he knows that he’s the first in his class to find his soulmate.

which makes sense in hindsight because he’s nine and the oldest in his class, and people don’t usually care about soulmates before then. one year after this yoongi’s sitting in science and a boy in the front row screams so loud that the teacher yeets a whiteboard marker across the room.

(seokwoo, the second to meet his soulmate. after seokwoo, people start buzzing about soulmates.)

but one year prior, yoongi stares at his arm. the purple message sits there like a good luck charm and he has to physically restrain himself from doing a backflip out of his seat. not just because they’re supposed to be quiet but he just knows he’d fall and his spine would never come back.

so instead he picks up a red marker from its package and writes on the space below:

mines blue

yoongi’s not sure he’s even breathing. his soulmate doesn’t respond immediately and yoongi wonders if they died, if they just forgot he existed, if they lost their arm in a spontaneous fire. if there’s ever been a situation like that, where two soulmates wrote one sentence and then never heard from each other again.

then, he watches purple letters fade into a free space on his forearm:

grey!!!!!!!!

yoongi thinks about how simple it used to be, back when all he cared about was the color purple and checking each house on the bus to see if they were grey. there’s this one time where yoongi convinces the bus driver to let him off at the first grey house he sees but when he runs up the front steps, it’s an elderly woman who greets him.

she’s nice. she has a dog and lets him have a chocolate cookie. and then she helps him find his mother’s number in the phonebook because she has no idea who he is.

“my soulmate lives in a grey house,” he tells her then, after his mom has finished having a mental breakdown over the phone because her only child got off the bus at a complete stranger’s house.

the woman smiles.


 

a brief list of the first things yoongi learns about his soulmate:

  1. he lives in a grey house
  2. he’s a boy
  3. his favorite color is yellow, like buttercups and sunshine and everything warm

this is what he tells yoongi, anyway. and at first yoongi wants to know everything about his soulmate from his favorite type of cereal ( lucky charms ) to how old he is ( im 7!!!! ) to what city he lives in ( busan , which to yoongi actually means the other side of the world ) but then a couple of weeks go by and in all the excitement yoongi forgets to tell his soulmate his name and then something goes very, very wrong.

it goes like this: his soulmate stops talking. but it doesn’t happen all at once, of course. like most heartbreaks this one happens slowly, taking piece after piece and then slowly, there’s nothing left.

every morning his soulmate draws the weather on yoongi’s left arm: a sun, a cloud, a lightning bolt. two weeks after yoongi meets his soulmate, he wakes up with his skin left bare. yoongi thinks he just forgot until he changes into his pajamas and finds a tiny doodle of the sun on his ribs.

and at first it works, hiding the messages. his soulmate never says anything and yoongi never asks. sometimes his soulmate writes things like pizza 4 dinner on the palm of his hand and then sometimes he writes things like im hungry :( under yoongi’s shirt.

until yoongi counts five days with no messages. he writes r u ok? on his wrist and five seconds later watches the font get frantically wiped away.

“maybe his school doesn’t let him write on his arm,” yoongi offers as an explanation to his mother in the car one rainy afternoon. there’s no lightning bolt on his arm - he’s checked seven times now.

“maybe,” his mother responds, sounding very sad and very far away.

that night yoongi waits until after dinner to write ur school is dumb on the skin under his shirt. he’s not expecting a response but when he wakes up the next morning and finds the area scrubbed bare and rosy, it still feels like he’s been punched anyway.


sometimes yoongi gets messages. from what he can remember, they include:

  1. i like iron man
  2. a drawing of a dinosaur
  3. marco (yoongi has to ask his mom what it means before writing back polo, which promptly gets wiped away)
  4. a paint stain on yoongi’s left thumb that neither of them touch and the color lasts for a week and a half

by the time yoongi’s ten, his soulmate no longer leaves him messages. it’s weird and confusing and yoongi constantly thinks he’s done something wrong until he sees something like a pen mark on the back of his wrist and it doesn’t seem like an accident. then there’s weeks without anything else and yoongi feels everything wash him out all over again.

to rephrase, his soulmate tells yoongi a tiny bit about himself. other than that, yoongi learns the most about his soulmate when he’s not saying anything at all. which is inevitable, certainly, seeing how they never speak.

when yoongi’s ten, he meets park jimin. park jimin is a loud eight year old with brown hair who has yet to meet his soulmate but draws all over his arms anyway, so often that the teacher sends him to the nurse’s office so he can wash it all off.

“is that for your soulmate,” yoongi asks him once when they’re both sitting in the principal’s office, jimin covered in squiggly lines and yoongi with a fresh cut on his cheek, “the, um-”

“frogs,” jimin tells him, and how weirdly fitting it is for that to be the first word he ever says to yoongi, “they never write anything back.”

“ah.” then, “they don’t look like frogs. maybe they don’t know they’re frogs.”

“of course they know they’re frogs,” jimin snaps, twisting his arm around so he can examine his own doodle monstrosity, “it’s my soulmate.

that one exchange, yoongi realizes later after seeing the twin of jimin’s grab glass dildo from lost and found written on the wrist of a student as he hands back a stack of syllabuses in his senior year of high school, is probably the only thing that could ever summarize the relationship between park jimin and kim taehyung.


when yoongi turns twenty, he’s sitting in a lecture watching jimin and seokjin give a presentation on the fear of death while sweet dreams are made of this plays solemnly in the background. there’s the ghost of something writing itself out on the back of his right hand.

at first he doesn’t notice. he’s too busy watching his professor, who’s got his face buried in his hands and has completely given up on writing grades. jimin quietly taps the space bar on his macbook and on the projector, there’s a transition between fatal disease percentages in seoul and a video clip of top 10 saddest anime deaths.

“we have included a video to evoke sadness and loss,” seokjin informs the class as jimin hits play.

yoongi glances down at the peer grading sheet and is about to write something along the lines of you guys aren’t borrowing my notes for next week’s exam to save yourselves when he notices the black ink scrawled on his skin.

it says, hey.

yoongi blinks. once, twice. he rotates his hand until the note is out of view and then brings it back, feels something in his chest coil when it’s still there, untouched. he wonders briefly if namjoon wrote something there to fuck with him, if he’s just noticing it now, until another message slowly writes itself out underneath the first:

happy birthday.


“move,” yoongi bellows to another boy in the bathroom as he shoves past, feeling absolutely nothing as he lands into the wall. he slips inside the stall and takes a seat, wrenches his sleeve down and feels the blood drain from his face as the two messages stare back at him:

hey.
happy birthday.

yoongi’s pen feels eerily visceral as he squeezes it between his fingers. a plethora of questions burst at the back of his mind like fireworks and suddenly it’s impossible to breathe. what the fuck is wrong with you, he considers, and that’s quickly followed by it’s been ten years but he knows that’s not the right thing to say either, because there were plenty of nights where yoongi would sit awake and watch yellow bruises fade their way onto his arms, accidental lead stains appearing on the side of his hands, charcoal shadows ghosting to his fingertips.

in the end he settles with how did you know it’s my birthday

his soulmate is eighteen. he knows this because september 1st was the only day that yoongi would find new paint stains underneath his nails and sometimes his soulmate would write the vaguest notes on his arms that looked like grocery lists to anyone else but yoongi: birthday party sep 1 ask for chocolate cake red balloons copic markers???

on midnight of his soulmate’s fifteenth birthday, yoongi just barely has time to read im 15 today before it’s quickly washed away. he doesn’t write anything back.

now, his soulmate writes his response underneath yoongi’s:

u ate a cupcake on ur 11th birthday n the sprinkles accidentally stained my finger rainbow.

yoongi releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

i cant believe youre even alive?

his soulmate feverishly writes i thought u wouldn’t talk 2 me . and then, so quickly that yoongi feels exhausted even watching the letters appear, im so sorry

4 what?

4 never talking back to u

well i figured smth had happened

his soulmate underlines smth with a red pen, like he’s emphasizing. like he’s relieved yoongi had the assumption, like he knows yoongi understands. like he feels guilty for never clarifying what something had ever been until now. my mom didn’t like that my soulmate is a boy, his soulmate writes and yoongi thinks, oh. oh.

was she the one who erased my messages

tht was me
she would get mad if i wrote to u so i stopped.
im sorry

don’t apologize

the messages are crawling their way up yoongi’s left arm now. his soulmate notices, too, because he moves the conversation to the back of his arm instead:

im staying w my aunt rn she lives in seoul r u still in daegu

i cant believe u remember i live in daegu
im going 2 snu right now tho

i rmb everything ab u lol
ur in college... whens the funeral

yoongi stares at the sheer fucking duality of those two notes for almost two full minutes until his soulmate writes hello……… and yoongi has no choice but to scrawl something back, anything to stop the uncomfortable sensation of a pen being jabbed against his arm to form ellipses:

is ur fav color still yellow

yes do u still live in a blue house

i live in an apt w my two best friends but my parents still live in the blue house
u know one time i got off the bus at a random old lady’s house bc her house was grey

thts so cute wtf
my mom n i went on a trip to daegu to see my grandpa n i stared @ every blue house :(

yoongi continues the conversation on his right arm, for the sake of his squinting eyes and wavering sanity: i wish we couldve met

me 2
hey is ur friend the one who drew a butterfly on ur hand like 2 years ago

that was a vagina

oh no


this is how they fall together again. unlike when they drifted out of orbit, yoongi’s soulmate comes crashing back into existence with full force, like a singular burning star. the morning after yoongi’s twentieth birthday he wakes up with a hangover, a birthday-themed penis on his forehead and a hesitant drawing of the sun on the back of his hand.

yoongi wrenches back the curtains that morning, ignores the agonized moans of his two roommates and stares into the sun until jimin screams stop him he’s trying to blind himself and is manhandled to the mattress by a desperate namjoon.

and there’s moments when they’re not talking, of course there are, but this time all yoongi has to do is tap a red sharpie against his knuckles and suddenly there’s a dramatic portrait on his arm of bigfoot and joseph stalin engaging in melee combat.

there’s the small things, too - things that convince yoongi home is a person and not a place. for starters, on nights where his soulmate goes quiet, yoongi watches dusk-colored charcoal stain the tips of his fingers and knows that it’s raining somewhere else. when yoongi locks himself in the studio his soulmate somehow always knows, but why wouldn’t he, and writes out little messages like doodle 4 your thoughts?

and this, yoongi thinks, this is home.


ive been thinking

yoongi looks away from jimin and taehyung’s tense round of mario kart to turn his wrist. he’s grabbing a pen from namjoon’s backpack before he can really register it. it’s not like he notices anyway because it’s exam week and namjoon is currently occupied with burying his face in his textbook - literally burying his face in it, garbled moans barely audible at this point.

about?

we’re soulmates right
do you think fate is going to bring us together eventually

that’s usually how it works i think
although my friends are soulmates and they met because one of them forgot a glass dildo at home depot

what

nothing continue

what if, his soulmate begins, and there’s a pause. what if we didn’t tell each other our names

it makes yoongi feel weird. of course it does. they’re soulmates, after all, and to think that they would attempt to jeopardize ever meeting or finding each other in such a huge world intent on keeping them oceans apart for as long as possible is nothing short of weird.

but on the other hand, his soulmate is. well. his soulmate. yoongi has this innate impulse to trust him and it’s probably due to the fact that they share the same body, in some sense. yoongi cracks his fingers and writes, why?

oh god i thought u were mad

just confused

um the way i see it-

did u just write out “um”

stop interrupting me u fucking bitch i was about to give a speech

srry go on

i just think it would b cool 2 find each other by accident
like 2 let fate guide us 2 each other instead of forcing it

yoongi thinks about it. how bad could it be, he wonders, to continue like they are without learning each other’s names? it’s not like they’d fall apart. no matter what, fate is going to bring them together eventually. it’s how it always happens with soulmates. they’ll still share the same bruises. his soulmate will still draw suns on the backs of his hands. yoongi will still write marco and get polo in magic marker.

i understand
like thts how its meant 2 be(?)

yoongi watches a tiny red heart emerge beside his note.

yea!!!!!
im scared if we force it like
idk whatll happen

n wht if we wnna date some1
but we hav 2 fight thru the relationship knowing its not our soulmate
like whts the point

ugh i love u

yoongi:

  1. chokes on his own spit
  2. pretends he doesn’t choke on his own spit
  3. tells jimin that he didn’t just choke on his own spit when he asks

“my soulmate just told me that he loves me,” yoongi announces to the room. he gets a variation of mildly disinterested sounds in response. “wow. thanks, guys. really felt that.”

“are you gonna say it back?” taehyung asks, eyes glued to the screen. jimin’s still in first but he’s steadily catching up. “tell me you’re going to say it back.”

“should i,” yoongi begins with the gentlest wince he can possibly manage, “you don’t think it’s too…”

“if you’re about to say early, ” namjoon warns from the depths of his statistics textbook, “i’m going to stab you with a mechanical pencil.”

“but isn’t it?”

“he’s your fucking soulmate, yoongi.”

“that doesn’t matter,” jimin cuts in then, and from his tone yoongi can just tell that he’s rolling his eyes, “yoongi’s, like, emotionally constipated.”

“thanks,” yoongi deadpans.

love u too, he quickly scribbles, in the tiniest font he can. yoongi knows that his soulmate is going to have to squint in order to read it. but that means the majority of yoongi’s friends will have to do the same, which means they won’t be able to read it in time. which means-

“he said it back,” namjoon yells. to yoongi’s annoyance, namjoon gets a handful of enthusiastic gasps in return. yoongi turns his entire body away from namjoon, who’s craning his neck to read. “whts the point,” he reads. “whts-”

“stop fucking reading my conversation-”

“what’s the point,” jimin corrects him, somewhat fondly yet also somewhat wanting to throw their nintendo switch at the back of his head. “it’s lingo. you’re telling me that you don’t write in lingo when you’re talking to your soulmate? how the fuck do you fit it all on your arm?”

“we don’t just write on our arms,” namjoon answers, like this is obvious.

“well. where else.”

silence.

“oh,” jimin gasps, and then once more, in vile disgust, “ oh-


three years later, yoongi meets jeon jungkook.

to give you a better picture: yoongi meets jungkook when the leaves are turning golden. it’s mid-september and everything is sunshine and scarlet. it’s not freezing yet but yoongi’s still wearing a hoodie anyway, crouched in the middle of the sidewalk to read a bulletin.

in comes jungkook, twenty-one, dark shredded jeans and a loose black t-shirt. he’s got the hem tucked in but it’s still pouring out the sides, tiny waist evident through the fabric. head down, white airpods tucked into either ear. zooming right for yoongi (mildly caffeinated, gay) in a pair of white heelys, humming a bit under his breath as he stretches his arms out for balance.

of course neither of them spot the other until it’s too late. by the time jungkook looks up, they’ve already closed the distance. jungkook forgets how to brake and yoongi’s too stunned to move out of the way. to jungkook’s credit, he does reach up to protect his own face.

yoongi’s first thought is oh he’s kinda hot which is the weirdest thing to be thinking as you’re hurtling towards the ground, he thinks, and it only makes the entire situation a thousand times worse when there’s nothing but immediate guilt to follow. his second thought is oh god remember to protect your knees w hich doesn’t exactly happen because he’s still stuck on the first thing.

so he comes down hard. it pulls a heavy oof from somewhere in his chest and suddenly the sky is swimming upwards, clouds gentle and angelic and vividly upside-down as he lies there on his back. somewhere along the way he tries to figure out why he went airborne when he’d been crouching to begin with. must’ve been god, he thinks dazedly. then, w ait. i don’t believe in god. i’ve literally never believed in god.

“oh my fucking god,” comes a voice then, all soft and hilted like melted honey, “are you okay? i didn’t even see you, i’m so sorry-”

yoongi blinks. there’s the silhouette of a boy in his vision, curly brown hair and long lashes. his features are sharp but they hold a ghost of softness all the same, cupid’s bow dipping low and deep. he’s not that cute, yoongi tells himself while thinking, evidently, that he’s very cute.

“i’m okay,” he says awkwardly, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks as the boy frantically helps him sit back up. “really. really, i’m fine.” if he focuses hard enough, he can make out the muffled yet upbeat tune of the super mario bros theme. his eyes flicker to the airpods.

“are you sure?” the boy tilts his head and yoongi wishes he wouldn’t because it’s probably one of the most endearing things he’s ever seen and it’s giving him a horrible mixture of admiration and suppressed guilt. “you look kind of lost.”

“that’s just my constant emotion,” yoongi tells him and isn’t sure if he’s joking or not.

it must be the right thing to say because it makes the boy smile. and what a lovely smile it is, all teeth that peek from behind rosy lips, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. kind of like the sun, yoongi thinks distractedly. he blames it on the autumn air.


booty thrashers gc [11:32 am]

yoongi [11:32 am]
hello i need assistance

jimin [11:32 am]
booty thrashers assemble

yoongi [11:33 am]
why did you respond to that so fast

jimin [11:33 am]
i’m in a history lecture
my prof is busy showing us a powerpoint of the presidents as minions

namjoon [11:34 am]
you know add/drop period ends in like two days
you only have two days to drop that fucking course

jimin [11:34 am]
it’s ok

yoongi [11:34 am]
so anyway there’s this guy and i want to know if any of you know him.

seokjin sent an image.

seokjin [11:34 am]
is this your guy

yoongi [11:34 am]
that is remy from ratatouille

seokjin [11:35 am]
and the whole world knows him baby

yoongi [11:35 am]
ok so he has brown hair and airpods
really tiny waist
almost killed me in heelys

jimin [11:36 am]
who the fuck still wears heelys

namjoon [11:37 am]
fr was he twelve

yoongi [11:38 am]
no…… im pretty sure he was another student i didn’t get a very good look at him

seokjin [11:39 am]
you just described his waist

yoongi [11:39 am]
and?

seokjin [11:39 am]
just sounds like you took notice
thats what it sounds like to me anyway

yoongi [11:40 am]
OK so maybe he was cute or whatever i just want to know who he is
ive never seen him before so i want to say he’s a freshman but

jimin [11:41 am]
i will keep my eyes peeled
he cant be hard to miss
ill be sure to look up TWELVE YEAR OLD RUNS OVER TINY ANGRY HOMOSEXUAL AND ENDS HIM on our campus site im sure someone got it on camera

yoongi [11:42 am]
ha fucking ha

taehyung [11:42 am]
jimin im so sick and fucking tired of you hanging the lizard dildo from my ceiling. it was so funny the first time but this has been the fifth morning where ive been trying to eat cereal and its fallen from the sky and landed in my bowl soaking me instantly
oh my god this is the gc

namjoon [11:42 am]
hi taehyung

seokjin [11:43 am]
see yoongi just do that. just track down heely boy and hang a lizard dildo from his dorm ceiling

yoongi [11:45 am]
i fucking hate all of you


as it turns out, yoongi doesn’t have to look very far. a few days later jimin sends him on a run to the campus coffee cart - with nothing but a crumpled yellow post-it note saying caramel lots of sugar and no money whatsoever - and on his way back, that’s when he hears it.

synthetics. a dreamy voice that holds some vague note of nostalgia. it’s familiar. yoongi has to navigate past the art room in order to make it back to his class and he notices that the door is cracked open just slightly, dust particles fluttering in the space.

to this day, he thinks about why he decided to push the door open. fate, the world always whispers back. he glances down at his arm: slightly numb, smudged sun doodles trapped underneath a head of dark hair, and thinks you were right all along.

it’s heely boy. this time he’s wearing timberlands, though, and an old black hoodie that swallows him whole. yoongi looks at the easel and sees a terrifying painted portrait of… he squints. he’s not sure, to be completely honest. there’s a lot of green. on the old crackly stereo in the back, fireflies by owl city plays quietly.

without hesitating, he takes his phone from his back pocket and captures a short video. it’s fine. heely boy has his back to yoongi, anyway. he’ll never know. but at least now yoongi has proof he fucking exists.

on the sleeve of his left arm, faded suns and stars and a ghost scrape sit there like haunted, guilty messages from the universe. yoongi retreats as quietly as possible, making sure not to bump the door as he walks briskly down the hall.


booty thrashers gc [3:45 pm]

yoongi sent a video.

taehyung [3:46 pm]
so what youre saying is heely boy was painting shrek on an easel with fireflies by owl city in the bg

yoongi [3:46 pm]
that is not shrek

seokjin [3:47 pm]
yoongi that is shrek

yoongi [3:47 pm]
trust me it’s not
but thats him does anyone know him

jimin [3:48 pm]
isn’t that jeon jungkook? he’s an art major
omg this explains everything jungkook would definitely wear heelys

yoongi [3:49 pm]
how do u know him

jimin [3:52 pm]
hes on the dance team. u were right he is a freshman
a little weird. paints anything u want for $2 a piece. had to paint sonic n mario hentai so he bumped the price to $6. really hot
does ur soulmate know about him

yoongi glances away from his phone to look at his hand, where his soulmate is busy writing ACORN on the backs of his knuckles. the guilt trickles its way back to yoongi’s gut almost automatically.

yoongi [3:55 pm]
no

namjoon [3:56 pm]
well that’s not all bad is it? he did suggest tht u don’t share names so u can comfortably date other ppl

yoongi [3:56 pm]
smth like that yeah

ur turn :D, his soulmate scribbles out on the side of yoongi’s index finger. with a faint smirk, yoongi grabs his pen and starts writing MORON on his other set of knuckles.

u fucking DICKHOLE

u said it was my turn

yea but u werent supposed 2 be a dickhole.

his soulmate makes x’s through each letter in moron, quickly writing bagel underneath.

yoongi [4:02 pm]
i just feel bad

jimin [4:03 pm]
well don’t
ur soulmate was the one who didn’t want to share his name 2 begin with

yoongi takes another look at his arms, where his soulmate has gotten bored of the letter game and has now taken to drawing the night sky on yoongi’s forearm. for u, he writes after doodling a crescent moon.

he can do nothing but hope, with every fiber of his guilty fleeting being, that jimin’s right.


yoongi feels himself falling for jeon jungkook on a tuesday.

it’s a late morning. he’s in a really bad mood. he has an exam next period. there are no bagels left by the time he gets to the cafeteria to grab breakfast and he ends up buying two iced coffees because in his rage, he drinks the first one long before he even makes it to the register.

the entire morning is just shitty. must be the same for his soulmate, too, because he draws a storm cloud despite the fact that it’s one of the warmest days of september. my mom called last night is what he writes next, has yet to respond to yoongi’s bad?

when yoongi finally reaches the register, there’s a short line. he’s about to pull out his phone and send a quick text to jimin, don’t wait up for me i got breakfast lingering in the imessage box when suddenly there’s a shrill gasp, the sound of coins exploding everywhere.

it’s a horrible sound. shakes yoongi’s core. he cranes his neck to see jeon jungkook standing in front of the cashier, a naruto wallet pulled open and evidently now empty. he’s not sure if he’ll ever forget the look on his face. like his world has just come apart. there’s coins twirling at his feet.

“sorry, i got it,” jungkook’s apologizing profusely, squatting to pick everything up. it’s a mess. they litter the floor. he’s never going to get them all. before he knows what he’s doing, yoongi’s squeezing his way through the line to get to him.

“i really have enough,” he’s promising, completely oblivious to yoongi pulling out his credit card and shoving it in the chip reader. the cashier looks at him with something like relief and pity. yoongi completes the transaction, shakes his head when he’s offered the receipt, and grabs jungkook’s breakfast from the counter - a bagel (go fucking figure) and an unopened bottle of orange juice - squats down to hand it over.

“sorry guys i don’t know what happened but i swear i have enough i-” jungkook stops talking altogether when he sees yoongi across from him. they lock eyes and it’s not only the best moment in yoongi’s life but also the most painful. “i… um-”

“don’t worry about it,” yoongi tells him, pushing the bagel into his hands. “you’re all good.”

“but i haven’t-”

“i put my card in,” yoongi says and pretends that jungkook’s peach-tinted cheeks don’t bother him in the slightest, “it was only like, 3000 won. here. take your shit.”

so he does, reaching out slowly with his right hand (yoongi doesn’t think to look at his left, why would he) and mumbling something like a confused thank you. then as if yoongi’s not suffering enough, he flashes him a smile that embodies all of the light in the world. yoongi swiftly looks down and starts gathering up coins.

“aren’t you the guy i ran over the other day?”

“yeah, don’t talk about it.”

it takes all of five minutes. jungkook is about to bust into melee combat with a pomeranian over a singular won coin and yoongi has to gently pull him away. other students lean down to hand coins jungkook’s way and he smiles at them each and every time, something like an angel emerging from the bluest parts of the sunlit sky. yoongi almost always has to look away.

“wait,” jungkook calls after yoongi after he’s walked through the door. yoongi turns to look over his shoulder and sees the freshman struggling to catch up despite wearing heelys, failing miserably at building up enough momentum.

he wonders briefly how jungkook manages to make it up flights of stairs or live life in general. then he’s zooming his way over, tongue stuck out in concentration. he's gripping his bagel so tightly that it turns his knuckles white.

“i’m jungkook,” he says when he’s close enough, almost loses control and cracks his head open on a metal pole. yoongi has to grab his arm to keep him steady. jungkook's skin is soft but yoongi’s fingers barely sink in, bicep solid under his touch.

when yoongi resurfaces back into reality, jungkook’s watching him curiously, wide eyes trained on yoongi’s lips.

“yoongi,” he returns breathlessly.


maybe: jungkook [12:02 pm]
hey ^___^ it’s jungkook

yoongi [12:07 pm]
omg hi how did u get my number

jungkook [12:08 pm]
u gave it to me when i accidentally pushed u down the hill remember

yoongi [12:09 pm]
oh yeah
you can’t say anything you tried to come down after me in heelys

jungkook [12:09 pm]
um i still succeeded?

yoongi [12:10 pm]
you fell too

jungkook [12:10 pm]
thats what im saying

anyway do you want to get a coffee with me tomorrow

“fuck,” yoongi croaks out loud, before promptly forgetting how to use all of his limbs and somehow managing to crunch his toe into a chair leg.

yoongi [12:17 pm]
hey sorry im bleeding
reading*
hyeah sure id love to get a coffee with you tomorrow.

jungkook [12:18 pm]
you’re fine :D
im free now btw

yoongi [12:19 pm]
me too i am free as well let’s get coffee right now


i met this guy

yoongi tears his eyes away from namjoon and seokjin attempting to throw two eggs and a washcloth into their ikea blender. when he sees the message on his wrist, he’s not sure if he’s feeling relief or disappointment. it’s maybe both. which isn’t exactly fair on his part but that’s just emotion, he figures, unfair and messy and impossible to deal with.

whats he like

short

Ok but short ppl hav personalities too.

omg i 4got u told me ur short

it is indeed a difficult life 2 live but i manage.

yoongi watches the first half of their conversation get smudged out from the top of his arm. he has a vivid image in his head of his soulmate dabbing at the writing with a baby wipe in order to free space.

being short is a choice, he replies, a little bigger than necessary.

yoongi looks back at seokjin. he’s currently wrapping duct tape around namjoon’s bleeding hand. has no idea what happened. there is only one egg left in the blender.

hello, his soulmate writes after five minutes of silence. listen im sorry pls dont leave me on read


later, after it’s three in the morning and yoongi’s had a little too much to drink, he lets his soulmate know that it’s okay to tell him everything. writes, with only the faintest feeling he’s trying too hard, that he wants to know everything. that he’s excited for him.

okay :), his soulmate answers almost immediately and yoongi hates that he’s still awake, that he knew he would be. i just wanted u to know

i appreciate it, yoongi says after two more shots. ill tell u if i meet anyone

yet he doesn’t mention jungkook in the hours before they both fall asleep. (he knows his soulmate falls asleep at around the same time he does, because yoongi wakes up to an unfinished game of tic-tac-toe. his soulmate has left a half-drawn X in the left bottom box.)

he doesn’t mention jungkook the next day, either. jimin asks and yoongi’s response is a constant oh i forgot i’ll tell him later until it stops being asked altogether.


we got coffee today, his soulmate writes a week later.

yoongi stares at jungkook’s iced coffee, sitting guilty on the table in front of him. the straw is faintly chewed. jungkook’s gone to the bathroom and yoongi doesn’t know when he’s going to come back. he pulls down his sleeve.

you guys should get married soon

im saving that for you!!!!!!!!!!


 

like most things, yoongi chooses to deal with this particular problem by writing out two lists. he writes soulmate in one column, jungkook in the next. starts having a mental breakdown upon seeing the two side by side until he calls jimin - who answers the phone sounding like he’s been running a marathon, sick fuck - and after twenty stressful minutes, both jimin and taehyung arrive at his front door.

“i asked for jimin,” yoongi deadpans as taehyung invites himself in.

“we’re a package deal,” taehyung tells him. he’s got his arm slung around jimin’s shoulders and bizzare happy new year 2012 sunglasses on. another detail, and yoongi prays that they’re not somehow related, are the faint bruises all over his collarbone.

“this is your list?” jimin asks incredulously as he enters the kitchen, staring down at the notebook. “yoongi, this isn’t even color coded. the text is slanted all over the page. holy fuck, i’m starting over for you.”

after half an hour, the list is as follows:

soulmate
painter
my best friend
knows everything about me
favorite color is yellow
draws suns on my hands
adorable personality
my fucking literal assigned soulmate
we do not know how big his dick is

yoongi looks up from the paper to narrow his eyes.

“what?” jimin asks with a mouth stuffed full of pizza rolls.

without wasting a beat, yoongi crosses out that last one. writes very understanding and kind in the tight space beside it.

jungkook
art student
ditzy and cute
tall
heelys
listens to songs like bohemian rhapsody and take on me while drawing madagascar porn??
likes bagels

hot

“why is there a space?” yoongi lifts the paper up to the ceiling, depending on the light to help him see it better. slowly, the ghost of an erased bullet point come into focus. “you erased something. there’s a space.”

jimin, nervously: “there’s no space.”

“there is. i’m looking right at it.”

“yoongi, i’m telling you there’s no space.”

“jimin- wait… oh my god,” yoongi groans as he drops the list back to the counter. his eyes properly read ?????? dick size, now. “why is that all you care about?”

“it’s a very important point!” jimin complains, quite nearly spitting up pizza roll all over yoongi’s lap as he leans over. yoongi grimaces. “don’t you want to know?”

“i don’t. no. i don’t want to know.”

“you’re blushing as you say that.”

“i’m not blushing.” yoongi does his best to hide his face in his left palm. it makes an imprint of black ink on his left cheek. “stop- stop staring at me. i’m not, really.”

“give me a pen,” taehyung bellows then, suddenly scouring the kitchen counter for anything to write with, “you’re shy and that’s okay. i’ll find out. i’ll find out how big your soulmate’s dick is, hyung.”

“oh my god.”


it’s not only that. there’s small things, too.

on yoongi’s twenty-first birthday, they end up going to a bar to celebrate. jimin and taehyung end up doing some weird smutty interpretation of wonderwall (they requested the song, of course) and yoongi accidentally overhears some middle-aged man say something faintly quietly but largely homophobic.

to make a long story short, they get thrown out. but yoongi gets a few good punches in beforehand. everything feels fine as he’s riding the high of adrenaline, shaking seokjin away as he frets over yoongi’s black eye, the dark cuts and bruises staining his knuckles.

at that moment, yoongi’s only regret is that his first bar fight was with fucking wonderwall playing in the background.

and then as soon as he’s sitting in the back of taehyung’s car, all of them frantically trying to find a cvs because not only is yoongi bleeding all over the seats, he’s also half-crying for ibuprofen, he realizes.

“oh fuck,” he croaks, and then louder, “fuck. i need a pen. does anybody have a pen?”

his soulmate won’t feel the pain, of course: luckily for everyone, the universe spared that from the entire skin-sharing situation. but he’ll see the bruises. he’ll still have to deal with the ugly purple bullshit around his eye and yoongi’s not sure if it’ll be swollen like his is, but-

when he rips up his sleeve after throwing up in the cvs parking lot, his arm is already littered with frantic, imperceptibly legible messages. wht happened r u ok my eye is purple hello wht happened?????? R U OK y r u not replying r u ok r u ok r u ok hello hello r u dead somewhere i cant tell if u r idk if thts smth i should b feeling pls say smth hello????

imsosorry is what yoongi manages to write after finding a blank spot on his index finger. fight

wht happened??? ah hold on

his soulmate rinses his arm underneath warm water. yoongi watches the ink bleed itself out until the skin is bare.

i got in2 a fight
i wasnt thinking
i just im sorry

r u hurt

im ok now got painkillers
just threw up in cvs parking lot

did u win

“did i win?” he asks jimin, who does nothing but smile and squeeze his shoulder. he takes that as a confirmation because what else would it be.

yes.
ur not hurt r u

good they deserved it
no just bruised
but its ok i look cool

yoongi’s soulmate, on very rare occasions, can bring him to tears. and this, standing in the middle of a drugstore parking lot at four in the morning with jimin holding a bag of ice to his head and trying to see if he needs stitches, is one of those times.

we look like violets, his soulmate writes softly.

yoongi cries again two hours later when he gets home. he turns on the bathroom light and, upon looking in the mirror, sees a split lip, yellow bruises, and his black eye. but his soulmate has painted it over with shades of lavender and gold and white until it resembles a garden of violets, blooming across yoongi’s skin and curving around the hilt of his cheekbone. they stretch down the length of his jaw.

and beneath all that, etched into yoongi’s collarbone, his soulmate has written:

you’re my violet


“i really don’t fucking understand why you keep doing this to yourself,” yoongi says, maybe a little awestruck. at the front of the room, jungkook is perched on a stool, yellow-stained paintbrush in hand. the color makes yoongi’s head spin and he tries his best to ignore it.

“what?”

jungkook pulls away from his painting to look yoongi in the eye. the art room is empty of anyone else but them and yoongi takes a moment to admire him like that, his eyes still transfixed on color and purpose even though he’s not looking at the easel anymore.

the front of his white shirt is flecked with shades of blue. his lips are parted faintly. his hair is pushed off of his forehead. yoongi is in love and he hates it.

and then he looks back at the painting, this green and pink-oriented thing. come with me now by the congos is bumping solidly through the old stereo. if anyone’s curious, jungkook makes these playlists himself. he’s completely aware of what he’s doing. “this. what the fuck is this again?”

jungkook stares at yoongi for a couple of beats after that, like the words take a while to hit him. then he glances towards the paint. “cosmo and wanda defeating thanos.”

“i hate you.”

jungkook smiles a little, although he does his best to hide it. “you don’t.”

he’s right. yoongi doesn’t.

then jungkook’s leaning over to dip his brush in lavender and his heelys kick into action. yoongi isn’t really surprised to watch it all unfold but he pushes out of his chair and darts over to help him anyway, grabbing jungkook’s arm and holding him steady.

“you do this a lot,” jungkook squeaks out, both of his hands outstretched to grip yoongi’s forearm. his fingertips are a carbon copy of yoongi’s, yellow and blue and pink color chrome. neither of them think anything of it.

“you’re so stupid,” yoongi mutters fondly, guiding him over to a chair. “how many times do i have to tell you? take off your shoes while you’re painting.”

“that’s a weird thing to say,” jungkook whispers back, head dipped to his chest. when he looks back up, his cheeks are peach hued.

yoongi’s not sure who leans forward first. when he thinks back on it he imagines that it was both of them, flushed and flickering like two flames begging the other to burn them out. jungkook licks over yoongi’s bottom lip and he feels it throughout his entire being, like jungkook’s dusted his veins over with dark cherry.

then he reaches down and jungkook makes a noise that cancels everything else out.

they never do get the fucking heelys off. and yoongi forgets to lock the door on their way to the wall, but he quickly forgets as jungkook slams him up against it, papers and paint spilling out onto the floor.

“we’re gonna have to pick that up,” yoongi gasps breathlessly while jungkook bites at his jaw.

“shut up, hyung.”

something about the way he says it makes yoongi’s head spin. be it the honorific in the center of an intense power move or the way jungkook’s suddenly looking at him like he wants to swallow him whole, yoongi doesn’t know. he’ll probably never know.

“we can’t just-”

hyung.


yoongi does his best to try and tiptoe past namjoon and jimin, sitting together on the couch watching reruns of some cooking show (the episode where one of them eats seven raw eggs at once) but jimin senses him immediately. without turning around, he declares, “stop.”

yoongi freezes. he feels his entire body burning where he stands as they both turn around. jimin silently looks him over and nods. yoongi immediately starts to panic. but it’s like a feral fear from the inside, all pins and needles and vague uncertainty.

“and where have you been for the past two hours?” jimin asks.

he knows the tactic. jimin has used it only a few times before, to manipulate taehyung into admitting that he ate all of the ravioli from the cabinet. but it will not work this time. not on yoongi.

without thinking, he blurts, “jungkook fucked me on a painting of cosmo and wanda and thanos.”

“i see,” jimin murmurs, staring for a while in particular at the paint stain on yoongi’s lips. “and how did this experience make you feel?”

“fucking horrible,” yoongi whispers, running a hand through his dried-paint soaked hair. “jimin, i feel like shit. my soulmate is covered in paint and hickeys and bitemarks and i can barely fucking walk-”

“okay,” namjoon says sternly from his place on the couch, pointing a finger. “first of all, you will not freak out. repeat after me. i will not freak out.”

“i will not freak out,” yoongi and jimin both say automatically.

namjoon frowns. he looks at jimin. “why… why did you say it, too?”

“oh,” jimin blinks, “was i not supposed to… oh. sorry. you just have a very- a very authoritative sounding voice when you get like this. it’s kind of sexy. i have an inbred desire to obey.”

“i’m taking a shower,” yoongi despairs.


he waits about four hours before saying anything.

hello
hello oh my god please say something

im sorry

wait what the fuck y r u sorry

i lost itim sorry i had sex dont u see these hickeys im a whore

yoongi frowns. he double checks himself in the mirror to make sure he’s not losing his mind and okay, those are d efinitely jungkook’s bruiseprints on his shoulders. these r my hickeys he writes out with mild confusion. wht r u talking about

what

the hickeys. theyre mine

no theyre my hickeys

no theyre- wait

wait

he’s trying not to feel like the spiderman meme, but frustratingly that’s the only thing coming to mind. come to think of it, there are a few more hickeys than he remembers receiving. yoongi figured it was just because he’d been distracted, but maybe-

omg we both had sex

on the same day though? at the exact same time?

we both embraced our inner whore at the EXACT SAME TIME


yoongi [3:22 pm]
jimin

there’s no response. yoongi takes a deep breath and frantically opens the group chat.

booty thrashers [3:23 pm]

seokjin [3:23 pm]
and thats when i took the last piece of pizza and lost my pinky toe in the process

yoongi [3:24 pm]
hello guys i need help right now

seokjin [3:24 pm]
i was telling a story

yoongi [3:24 pm]
jin we’ve heard the pizza toe story so many times it’s a legendary classic ok have any of u seen jimin

taehyung [3:25 pm]
he’s at my place w namjoon
btw when r u going to let him move in with me

yoongi [3:25 pm]
never he was my friend first i need him

taehyung [3:26 pm]
u only say tht bc hes the only one who knows how to fix ur dishwasher when it breaks and ur too lazy to wash them by hand
DO NOT GO TO MY HOUSE
hello?
god damn it


when yoongi kicks the front door down, he immediately inhales a lungful of smoke. he rears back, coughing, while jimin pokes his head out of the kitchen. he looks mildly disinterested. holding a spatula. it’s impossible to see. namjoon is sitting on the couch with a handsome dark-haired man. they’re playing uno. the man is wearing a drug rug. there is an alligator on a leash at their feet.

“this is my soulmate,” namjoon informs yoongi, who’s currently waving smoke away from his face and trying to find a window. “his name is hoseok.”

“okay,” yoongi manages, shoving a window open and sticking his head out to breathe. “what the fuck happened?”

“i was cooking a meal,” jimin shouts from the kitchen, “and as it turns out, you’re not supposed to add gasoline to boiling water in order to create heat.”

“you have to stop watching those cooking shows,” yoongi tells him, stepping fearfully over the alligator.

“he won’t bite unless i ask,” hoseok assures.

“okay. it’s nice to meet you,” yoongi replies. he looks at namjoon. namjoon’s currently staring at hoseok like someone shoved a lightbulb inside of his ass and plugged him into the wall. “jimin, i need to talk to you.”


“at the same time?”

yoongi nods frantically. “we both had matching hickeys.”

“that’s very strange,” jimin whispers bemusedly, now sitting at the kitchen table and otherwise banned to touch anything in the kitchen. yoongi has long since ordered a pizza. “i’m seeing a pattern here. you don’t think that you both could be…”

yoongi stares wildly, waiting for him to finish.

“well? what were you about to say?”

jimin frowns. “soulmates, yoongi. i was going to suggest that jungkook might be your soulmate.”

“no, no, that’s impossible,” yoongi panics, and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t blinked in the past forty-five seconds. “i was expecting you to say something like we’re both cockthirsty whores or something. i just wanted to freak out with you, you know… because my soulmate managed to find someone at the same time i did, so we’re like, perfect for each other or something but i’m over here fucking some other guy and-”

“you can’t tell me you honestly think,” jimin begins, and it’s obvious that yoongi honestly thinks because suddenly he’s burying his face in his hands and groaning. “oh, yoongi. what did your soulmate say?”

“the same thing i did,” yoongi tells him, appalled. “we both think the exact same thing.”

jimin stares at him for a very long time, until yoongi thinks he died. and then he gets up and leaves the room.


Hey r u awake

yes

look @ the stars w me? (bring a pen)

yoongi rolls out of bed then, gripping his blue pen between his fingers. he’s not sure where he got it. jimin stole it from a bank, he’s pretty sure. im walking outside now

me 2. do u see the moon

yeah

did u kno that the moon is always the size of ur thumb

isnt that a quote from dear john.

yoongi lifts his thumb to the sky anyway, watches it cover the full moon like a shadow. knows that his soulmate, wherever he is, is doing the same. hates himself for wondering if the moon would fit underneath jungkook’s thumb, hates himself for being too scared to ask.

things that yoongi is afraid of:

  1. asking his soulmate if his name is jungkook and getting a message like no? why, do you wish he was your soulmate instead? or, worst case scenario, never getting a response
  2. falling in love with jeon jungkook
  3. the moon

as it turns out, his soulmate wonders, too.

where does the light go when the sun goes down

what do u think happens if soulmates fall in love with diff people

where do memories go when u cant remember them anymore

it’s another list, yoongi notices, just spaced in different places on his body and only intended for his eyes to see. i think i want to meet you just to be sure of something but i don’t know what it is because i know i’m in love with you but i want to know if i’m really really in love with you or if i have the wrong idea is a bit lengthy to write out on his arm, yoongi thinks, so he just keeps it to himself.

i love you, he writes instead, tucks it in the space between his ribs.


one month later, yoongi wakes up with a very small sentence scrawled out on his collarbone, almost in the exact same place that his soulmate had called him his violet years before. i want to meet you, it says, and if yoongi hadn’t glanced at his reflection before getting into the shower he never would’ve seen it.

and it’s a very terrifying thing, yoongi figures out, meeting your soulmate. he has jimin help him pick out an outfit but nothing feels like it’s enough, ignores the way jimin shakes his head and smiles.

“you’re going to be fine,” he says before yoongi can back out. he’s checked his hair in the mirror twenty-seven times now. “this is what you want, isn’t it?”

“what if it’s not-” he doesn’t know how to finish. there’s two possible endings to a story like this and both chill yoongi to the bone.

  1. the soulmate i’m looking for
  2. jungkook

valuto do u know valuto

u want to meet at valuto?

yes thats why i said valuto

thats close to snu you know

i know

why wouldn’t he say anything, yoongi wonders. is there any possible way that his soulmate got into seoul national university earlier this year and failed to tell yoongi because he wanted them to be guided together by fate? or because he didn’t want yoongi to know?

he has to take the subway to get to the cafe. and if the entire time yoongi’s glancing at every face to see if he recognizes the features, to see if any of them bring him back home, then that’s nobody’s problem but his own.

jimin [11:49 am]
he wants it to be you

yoongi glances up from his phone and feels like the world has drawn in a little tighter than before.


 

one hour later, yoongi meets his soulmate.

to give you a better picture: yoongi meets his soulmate when the snow is fluttering to the ground. it’s mid-november and everything is cold and magic. you know the rest.

yoongi has been sitting at the table for twenty minutes now and there’s nobody around him that looks familiar. he’s more than a little disappointed but won’t allow himself to figure out why. at first he thinks he’s been stood up and then the waitress comes over, asks him if he wants a fresh coffee, and the anxiety dissipates only slightly.

six minutes after that, the front door jingles rather loudly. it’s different from the last and yoongi can just feel the air shift, knows by the way that his heart rate automatically quickens. he looks up from the table, his arm: where r u

in comes jungkook, twenty-one, light washed denim jeans and a marigold colored t-shirt. he’s forgotten to tuck it in. his eyes are wide, scanning the room anxiously, and then they land on yoongi.

everything stops. jungkook lowers his gaze from yoongi’s face to his arm, still frozen on the table. he sees his own handwriting and sun patterns. he’s still panting, having run from the subway.

yoongi can do nothing but stare. he thinks back to when the first sentence appeared on his arm when he was nine years old and tries to remember the excitement that he felt upon reading it, realizes that it doesn’t even slightly compare to realizing that jeon jungkook is your soulmate.

they meet in the middle. like the first time they ever spoke, jungkook is the first to try to speak. he stares up at yoongi openly and it feels like coming home. “i-”

he doesn’t have to finish. rather, he doesn’t get to finish: yoongi is faster, grabbing his shoulders and pulling them together until their lips meet.

it feels like saying, i wanted it to be you, too.