Chapter Text
Yoongi is selectively creative at best, and the idea of choosing what to say to his soulmate is far too much pressure. So at 12:01 am – it takes a minute to calm his traitorous heart – on his eighteenth birthday, Min Yoongi writes a shaky greeting on the inside of his left forearm.
Hello, my name is Min Yoongi.
The strong odour of permanent marker is overpowering, his handwriting is uneven, and his stomach is in his throat.
Shit.
Permanent marker.
He looks down at the regular non-permanent pen he should have grabbed, mocking him from his bedside table. There’s nothing he can do but wait now, though it feels like that’s all he’s ever done.
There’s a lot of pressure on one day when you’re told that your soulmate will receive anything you draw on your skin for the first time. You can meet the love of your life, or a lifelong friend. Not all soulmates are romantic, Yoongi’s uncle is soulmates with his best friend. She’s been married for years and he’s finally settling down himself.
Not everyone is looking for the love of their life, and not everyone loves the same. It only makes sense that there would be variation in the position a soulmate plays.
There was a time when Yoongi thought that it would be Namjoon. When Yoongi had been older and wiser and Namjoon had looked up to him (literally and figuratively) and seemed to believe that Yoongi hung the stars. Yoongi couldn’t help but think that was already Namjoon’s job, but he was pretty sure he hid those thoughts better. They were inseparable, and Yoongi couldn’t imagine being without him. It was then he decided that spending forever with Namjoon wouldn’t be so bad.
Even when they got older, and Namjoon no longer had to look up to Yoongi, when he became lanky and studious and so much more than the boy that hero worshipped Yoongi, that look never quite went away. Yoongi had always done well in school, but few people felt successful when their academics were compared to Namjoon’s. And after a few years of painful denial, Yoongi came to realize that he would never again pat Namjoon on the head affectionately without standing on his tip-toes. But Namjoon still looked at him like he knew all the answers, and even though it sometimes felt like an unwarranted perspective, Yoongi loved him for it.
He didn’t want to tell Namjoon, didn’t want to get his hopes up. There had been so many instances of teenagers believing they were truly in love and that their eighteenth birthday would solidify their current relationships only to deal with the pain and confusion of being mistaken. If that was what happened to high school sweethearts, Yoongi couldn’t imagine how painful it would be for him to let himself fall for Namjoon only to find that it wasn’t meant to be.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, so he asked Namjoon questions.
Simple questions, when they were young and silly.
‘Do you think they’ll be funny?’ ‘Do you think they’ll be funny looking?’ ‘Do you think they’ll think I’m cooler than you?’
And more serious ones as they got older.
‘Do you think they’ll care about you the right away?’ ‘Do you think they’ll understand how you see the world?’ ‘Do you think they’ll communicate in ways you’re used to?’
When Yoongi was sixteen he had asked one of his questions, and Namjoon had answered about a ‘she’.
Maybe it was a slip of the tongue, maybe it was a mistake, maybe it didn’t really mean all that much.
But Yoongi took it hard.
He took it to mean that there was no way Namjoon could ever care about him the way that he cared about Namjoon, and he was fooling himself to think otherwise. It left him cold and sad, and filled with new questions he knew he’d never ask.
‘Do you think they’ll know how to fix all the stuff you break?’ ‘Do you think they’ll understand how uncomfortable you feel when people only see you as your intelligence?’ ‘Do you think they’ll appreciate how terrible you are at masking your feelings?’ ‘Do you think they’ll love you more than I do? Is that even possible?’
It was a pretty dark time. He was young, hormonal, and heartbroken. Namjoon was the only person he would trust with all of his hurt, which only made things worse.
It was obvious that Namjoon could tell something was wrong. Yoongi acted short with him, couldn’t seem to help it. He didn’t want to hurt Namjoon, didn’t want to hurt anyone. But somehow all the hurt in him just wanted to be felt, and he would catch himself trying to drag Namjoon into his despair. Namjoon was patient, though. He didn’t press the issue when it became clear Yoongi didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t let Yoongi treat him like crap, and made it very clear that he wouldn’t put up with it, but he never got angry and he waited it out until he could get his best friend back.
That almost made it worse, how great Namjoon was about everything. Eventually, Yoongi began to heal. He wasn’t over Namjoon, but he wasn’t mourning him either. He was moving on and not letting the sadness keep him from being him.
It was still hard to be around Namjoon, though. And something changed in their dynamic. Where Yoongi had always been open and obviously invested, he began to keep his distance. He couldn’t afford to keep his heart on his sleeve any longer. If Namjoon seemed sad at the shift, he never brought it up.
Yoongi never did come up with who his soulmate could be. It was hard to kick the habit of daydreaming about Namjoon so he stopped thinking about his soulmate at all. People teased him about not caring, but it was more of a defense mechanism than the trendy youthful opinion his friends tended to assume.
That doesn’t mean that he isn’t scared as hell now. Putting off thinking about the speech you need to make in front of your class doesn’t make it any less terrifying on the due date, and ignoring thoughts of soulmates doesn’t keep you from feeling a sort of hollow queasiness when the clock strikes twelve.
So as Yoongi stares at the flawed script on his wrist, he takes deep breaths and tries to quell the fear budding under his ribs. This is supposed to be a happy occasion, why can’t he just be excited like everyone else?
After an hour of restless waiting, Yoongi gives up and goes to sleep. He knows his mother will grill him in the morning. It took all of the whining he could muster to keep her from staying up with him to see what happened, and there is no way she’s gonna let him off easy.
×
Surprisingly, his mother does let him off easy the next morning. Maybe the dark rings under his eyes and sour pout plastered on his face tip her off.
His friends pounce on him the moment he gets to school, bursting with questions and excitement. He manages to brush it off with a comment about being the older part of his pair, complete with a halfhearted smile. That seems to shut them up, but he still catches Namjoon staring at him out of the corner of his eye with a hard to read expression.
It’s hard for the first few weeks, when anytime Yoongi feels a tingling on his skin his first instinct is to drop everything and look, to see if it’s his soulmate. Each time he can’t help but hope, and each time there’s nothing there. He becomes far too accustomed to the sad looks his friends give him after staring at a still blank piece of skin.
It really shouldn’t be that big of a deal, literally half of all people are the older soulmate and go through the same thing. It does suck, though, to be the older half. There is no control. You can be waiting days or years to hear from your soulmate, you may never hear from them at all.
But that doesn’t mean Yoongi deserves pity, it’s been a month since he turned eighteen. He’s got time. So why is everyone – himself included – acting like it’s the end of the world?
Maybe he needs this. Maybe he’s been waiting for this, for someone to take his mind off everything that shouldn’t be there at all.
But that’s not really fair, is it?
He shouldn’t wait for someone else to fix his unrequited feelings. He can’t leave those burdens untouched.
As time goes by, his heart stops racing at phantom tingles, and he begins to wait until he’s home to check. Once a night he goes through the motions.
Right arm, left arm, stomach. Right leg, left leg, back in the mirror.
Then it’s every couple of days, and eventually every few weeks. He decides he can’t just put his life on hold for someone. If they're really his soulmate – platonic or otherwise – they won’t want him to waste away doing nothing, waiting to be saved.
It’s not like he doesn’t have things to do, he’s a high school senior. So he invests his time into academics, accepts as much help from Namjoon in his English courses as his pride and heart can handle, and he does well. He does really well and it’s good, it’s fine.
He gets into a school with a pretty good music program and works a shitty construction job holding signs and wearing neon orange all summer. It pays great and he’ll live through sunburns if it means he can have his own equipment someday.
School starts and it’s a pretty big change. There’s a lot more he’s expected to do on his own time and a lot more time for him to manage. But he likes it. The general courses are kind of tedious, but everything concerning his major is so interesting and it reminds him that he is making the right choice.
He gets back in touch with Seokjin, even though they attend different schools. It’s not that they really fell out of touch, it’s more that there was so much going on for him that Yoongi and the others just couldn’t quite relate to yet. But he can now. So they whine about science requirements and those people in lectures that don’t understand when a question is rhetorical. They chug caffeine and have weekend study dates and it’s great. It’s great, but Seokjin isn’t Namjoon.
He thinks about Namjoon a lot more than he thought he would, but finds he isn’t really surprised. Namjoon who is seventeen now and trying to decide what to do with his life when so many doors are open to him. Namjoon who used to do everything with him.
But he’s got things to distract himself. His roommate is super passive aggressive and trying to decipher what he’s pissed about this week takes up a good amount of time.
There’s studying, and he learns he needs to do more of that. His first semester is kind of a learning curve and he isn’t real happy with his marks. He figures out the hard way that all that extra time he isn’t in class isn’t free time.
He starts working on his own compositions. They aren’t great, but they’re getting better. He was so proud and full of himself when he got into university, thinking he knew what he was doing. It’s been a humbling experience but he’s grateful for it. He can look back on the things he made in high school, and though it makes him cringe, it also reminds him of how far he’s come.
He’s halfway through his second semester, his birthday is just around the corner, when namjoon calls. He ignores the flutter of his heart, it’s practically pavlovian at this point.
“I got into Seoul National,” He says.
“I wouldn’t expect any less,” Says Yoongi, trying to cover the pride in his voice with humour.
“I’m not gonna go,” Namjoon tells him, “I want to do music. Like you.”
Yoongi feels his heart do something uncharacteristic and he takes a moment to think over Namjoon’s words. Telling him not to do it because of his potential is stupid. He’ll see right through it because he listened to Yoongi rant when his parents gave him that same spiel last year.
But he really does have potential, and as much as the idea of having influenced Namjoon makes him swell with pride, the thought of pushing him towards an uncertain future pulls him back down to earth.
“I know you can do it, but is it really worth it?” He settles on.
“Was it worth it for you?” Namjoon counters.
“I didn’t get accepted into Seoul National.”
“Well, that just proves how serious I am about this. Can you room with a freshman next year, or is that not allowed?”
Yoongi doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he tells Namjoon he’ll look into it and hangs up before he can do either.
Don’t think this is your fault. Namjoon messages later, it’s no one’s fault and it’s not a problem. I know you like to take responsibility for all the bad, but I think I’ve finally found something good. You’d better dote on me like the favourite dongsaeng I know I am.
Yoongi decides not to wallow in self-pity. Namjoon is capable of making his own decisions. Besides, he now has to worry about being around him full time. Shit.
It turns out that Namjoon can’t live with Yoongi, at least not until his second year. Yoongi is both thankful and sad. He still dotes on him, though. Hoseok complains that he plays favourites, but when Yoongi shrugs and tells him they’ve known each other longer it seems to be enough.
He shows Namjoon which lab has the best equipment and which computer chair is the least dangerous.
He talks him through what not to do with his free time between classes.
They grumble about how much harder it is to make music for a course than to write something for themselves.
They ease into the semester and it’s comfortable and easy and feels right.
The week leading up to Namjoon’s birthday, Yoongi finds excuses to be away from him. He’s sure his avoidance is transparent, but it’s better to hide from Namjoon than to let him see just how messed up he is.
Sometime during the few weeks since school started he forgot that they can’t work. It’s fine, it’s nothing new. But Yoongi still hasn’t heard from his soulmate and Namjoon is going to talk to his in a few days. He had hoped to have someone to dull the pain by this point, or to at least be in a position where his heart didn’t hurt looking at Namjoon.
But he’s not, and it does.
So the night before Namjoon turns eighteen Yoongi goes to bed early and tries not to cry over all the daydreams he’s had about spending a domestic forever with Namjoon since he was ten years old.
He does cry.
It’s cathartic, and gifts him with puffy eyes, a runny nose, and an awful headache. He falls asleep still hiccupping at around 9:00pm, and hopes he can be happy for his best friend.
Just after midnight he wakes up. He thinks life is cruel, and that the one night he attempts to get enough sleep his body has other plans. But then he feels the tingling on his wrist. At first he wants to ignore it, he’s so done with false hope. But the feeling remains, and it is moving in steady lines up his forearm. Before he can think too hard about things, he is switching on his bedside lamp and blinking hard to adjust to the influx of light.
On his left arm there are black lines stretching from the start of his wrist to nearly his elbow, none of the lines are straight and after a moment Yoongi deciphers them to be water. Slowly, a small rudimentary boat takes shape on top of the waves, completely with a tiny sail. Yoongi can't help but smile at the completed picture. Then he notices a strange multi-limbed blob taking shape underneath the boat. He's got no clue what it is supposed to be, and looking at it from different angles doesn't help at all. Suddenly, the mystery blob is scratched out and words start to form on his palm.
Sorry, I wanted to do something creative but I can't draw for shit. That was supposed to be an octopus...
No. Yoongi knows that writing. No. No. No.
I guess I should introduce myself,
There is no more room on Yoongi’s palm, but he can feel the writing carry over onto the back of his hand. He doesn't want to look. He knows what he’ll see. He holds out until he’s counted to 60 in his head. He knows he can't ignore it forever, even if he wants to so, so bad.
My name is Kim Namjoon. It's nice to finally meet you!
This can't be happening. Fate can't be this cruel, can it?
Yoongi knows that Namjoon will never love him back in the same way, has spent years reminding himself. To have Namjoon as a platonic soulmate is more than he can take.
Distance and the knowledge that there is someone else for them both is the only thing that keeps Yoongi going. Knowing that he's the perfect one for Namjoon, in a way that kills him to maintain is torture.
All of the years closing himself off from Namjoon are for nothing. He's not a fool, he knows he can't just be there for Namjoon platonically. Not that close. So what can he do?
Hey, are you sleeping?
Yoongi reads the words over a few times, remembering the nervous feeling in his gut on his own eighteenth birthday. And he hadn't even put himself out there with a strange sea creature drawing. He should answer Namjoon. He probably wouldn't even have to tell him his name.
But Yoongi is done suffering.
He can't do this, he can't be that person for Namjoon and it kills him. So he turns off his lamp and tries his best to go back to sleep.
He never does get there, and as the sun slowly rises and sheds light on his bedroom he eyes the writing on his arm. Namjoon has an early class this morning. Yoongi had warned him against taking anything before 9am but Namjoon assured him he could handle it. Yoongi had still gotten up to walk him to the first class so he knew where it was, even though he didn't have class himself until 10:30.
So unless he was skipping, Namjoon would be leaving soon. He wondered if Namjoon had made the same mistake as him, or if he’d wash the writing off before class.
At 7:55 the octopus blur and ocean began to disappear. The sailboat was next, followed by the writing until the only evidence of last nights discovery was the sinking feeling in the pit of Yoongi’s stomach.
He sent Namjoon a message at around 10:00 wishing him a happy birthday and asking if he'd found his soulmate.
Namjoon thanked him and informed him that he hadn’t heard anything yet, but maybe they were from a different timezone, somewhere exotic. It was good thing he was so good at languages, hey?
Yoongi feels tingling on his wrist again and makes sure to put on a hoodie and grab a pair of gloves before leaving for class, working on a plan for what to do next.
He stops in the bathroom between classes and hides away in a stall to check the writing on his wrist. Namjoon has written what Yoongi assumes is the equivalent of Hello, my name is Namjoon in five different languages. Yoongi smiles despite himself as he pulls his sleeve back in place and leaves for class.
The lady at the makeup store is nice, if not a little peppy. Yoongi planned his words all morning and he almost believes them when he speaks.
“Yeah, my soulmate has a really bad habit of writing things on himself. I wouldn’t mind, but I kind of need to stay professional for my work. I know he doesn’t mean to so I figured it’s probably for the best if I have something to cover up the marks just in case.” Yoongi roles up his sleeve to prove his point, “See? He was working on languages this morning.”
The lady coos at his situation and tries out some products on his arm, explaining how they work together and finding the right shade.
When he’s walking home Yoongi freaks out a little bit. Is he really going to do this? He’s made a lot of progress over the last few years, but he’s been miserable for a good portion of it. Does he really want to do this for the rest of his life? What if Namjoon tries to write on himself in front of Yoongi? What if Yoongi forgets and writes on himself? Won’t Namjoon eventually get suspicious if both of them don’t have anyone? There’s no way they can be roommates now.
But then Yoongi thinks of telling Namjoon. Of writing something back, calling Namjoon pretentious for writing in all those languages. He thinks of the moment Namjoon realizes what Yoongi is, and telling him that he always knew they would be best friends forever.
He’ll take concealer for his skin and feelings over that any day.
×
Namjoon takes a lot longer than Yoongi to give up on getting a response. For the first few months, he just leaves the same translations in the same spot. Then he comes to the conclusion that his soulmate might not have that limb, and he begins writing the message on his stomach. Yoongi doesn’t really mind, it’s a lot easier to cover up.
It’s about six months before Namjoon stops writing at all, and Yoongi feels a little guilty about crushing his hopes. Sometimes he talks about the sort of things he wants to do with his soulmate, and those conversations always leave him feeling hollow. Would Namjoon still want to plan picnics and write songs if he knew Yoongi was his? It makes Yoongi hold onto his plan a little tighter, really. It would hurt too much to see Namjoon go back on all his romantic plans. If Yoongi was stronger, he’d encourage Namjoon to find someone. Remind him that his soulmate might be platonic and either way they wouldn’t want him to put his entire life on hold. But he isn’t that strong, so he hopes Namjoon figures it out on his own.
He struggles with himself and his decision a lot over the next few years, thinks about how much easier it would be if Namjoon was just happy with someone else. With every passing day it becomes harder to come clean.
Yoongi graduates and gets a job at a music label. They don’t trust him with much yet, and most of the time he feels like a glorified intern. But he’s moving forward. He tries going on a few dates, but he always ends up comparing them to Namjoon or being overwhelmed with guilt that he’s trying to be happy when Namjoon isn’t.
×
It’s past midnight when Yoongi wakes up to an intense tingling on his lower back. He checks the time on his phone and groans in frustration. He tries to go back to sleep but the tingling only gets more intense. There’s no way he’s getting out of bed. So instead, Yoongi thinks about everything he’s done in the last few days, tries to come up with anything out of the ordinary that might have caused him back pain. Eventually he grows numb to the feeling and drifts off to sleep.
Yoongi doesn’t notice until he is getting into the shower the next morning. He’s meeting Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin for brunch or something equally as pretentious and wants to be at least semi presentable. His shower is directly opposite the mirror in his bathroom, which is convenient, because it enables him to get a peak of black on his back as he’s about to get in. He maneuvers himself to get a better look at what the hell is written near the base of his spine.
There is a grotesquely detailed fish that spans the width of his back, and it’s creepy as hell to look at. Even from his strained over the shoulder angle the fish seems to be looking right at him. Underneath his new fish friend are the words Nice Bass written in an awful font that looks better suited to a bumper sticker on a jacked-up truck.
Kim fucking Namjoon.