Chapter Text
“Would you really?” Seokjin’s voice had a suggestive lilt, but still, there was no mistaking the surprise in his tone.
“We’re soulmates,” Namjoon said in return, leaning back onto his headboard. He was eternally thankful that Seokjin couldn’t see the goofy, wide smile stretching across his face, and also that Jimin didn’t wake up from the loud, thundering pulses of his heart.
He heard a soft, breathy laugh. “I guess that’s a given since you literally fell for me,” Seokjin said, clapping his hands together, his (strangely addictive) laugh making a reappearance. “Get it? Because—” He couldn’t finish his sentence because of the high giggles that kept spilling through his lips.
“I take that back,” Namjoon said, still not being able to help the laughter that kept threatening to escape him. “You’re still listening to Les Mis.” The music was at (for once) a pleasant volume, the voices a steady thrum rather than an earsplitting boom. He was actually enjoying it (but he’d never say it out loud because his pride was something he clutched near and dear to his heart and he could already hear Seokjin’s “I told you so” over the phone).
“Yes, I am,” Seokjin said happily. He gasped, the most adorable little sound that Namjoon had ever heard. “You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”
“Can you read my mind too, or am I just that bad at hiding it?”
“Both!” Seokjin sang. “Now go to sleep. It’s late. You have class tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Namjoon groaned, rolling over onto his stomach. It was getting harder and harder for his eyes to stay open, and he was trying to swallow a yawn every other second. “Remind me again why I signed up for a 9 a.m. class at all?”
“Requirements? Masochism?” Seokjin asked. “I don’t know. Now go sleep, child.”
“Child? We’re supposed to fall in love legally,” Namjoon sighed, but there was no denying the smile dancing on his lips. He was gripping his phone quite tightly, his nails digging into the sides of his (practical but boring) case. He didn’t want to hang up. Seokjin’s lame jokes and his endearing laugh made talking to him so easy and he guessed that that was why they were soulmates. Conversation flowed simply and smoothly, and God, Namjoon loved it.
“Not yet,” Seokjin chided. “I still don’t know much about you. We met today.” Namjoon heard a muffled thud as he shifted. “Tell me something about yourself.”
“Not today. It was actually yesterday, hyung.” His eyes flicked towards the clock sitting on his bedside, the angry red numbers reading 1:04.
Seokjin laughed, his breaths causing bursts of static across the line. “I’m trying my best, Namjoon. I’m tired and I have a government paper to write. Ah, the harsh life of a senior!”
“If I’m bothering you—”
“I like talking to you,” Seokjin said softly. “Don’t worry about it.”
And so he didn’t. The world seemed to fall into place, the gaping hole that had been eating away at the pit of Namjoon’s stomach for years seemed to fill. Namjoon laid there, surrounded by blankets and moonlight, talking until his throat was sore, laughing until his stomach hurt.
Before he knew it, he’d wasted half of the night (and half of the morning) away, talking about whatever there was to talk about. He ignored the fact that the clock was ticking away, his precious minutes of sleep disappearing slowly down the drain. Their conversation was gentle waves washing ashore, a soft breeze on a spring day.
“Ah shit, my phone’s dying,” Seokjin said, and he sounded genuinely disappointed, which made Namjoon’s heart swell just slightly. “I’ll see you later, Joonie.”
Namjoon would have hated the nickname if it wasn’t Seokjin who gave him it.
“Actually, wait one second!” There was a noise and then a muted shuffle, which made him nervous and vaguely excited. Seokjin paused. “Okay, now, good night!” Without offering an explanation, he hung up, his tone considerably brighter and more energetic than before.
Namjoon soon found out why.
He hadn’t heard this song before, but he recognized the voices and the names from the countless times they’d played inside his head. The melody was twinkling and almost melancholy, bittersweet, a farewell.
He felt a goofy smile work its way onto his face as he placed his phone onto the small bedside table.
It’s been less than a day and you’re officially whipped for Kim Seokjin.
That’s what soulmates are, right?
--
“Was it necessary to stay up until 3 a.m. talking to Seokjin?” Jimin asked tiredly. His hair was sticking up on one end, and there were shadows beneath his eyes, his oversized t-shirt hanging on his delicate shoulders. “Between you and your endless pining and Yoongi blasting whatever the hell he listens to after midnight, I think I got about 20 minutes of sleep.”
Namjoon had never seen anyone eat cup noodles so angrily before. He’d forgotten how fucking scary Jimin could be when he was pissed because it just didn’t happen often. He was so used to the smiley, pink-haired dancer that it was kind of jarring to see anything but a blinding grin on his face. “Were you not sleeping by midnight?” he replied through a yawn, sitting up in his bed.
“I was trying.” Jimin finished this statement by slamming the empty foam cup onto the counter. “Your flirting was s—”
Namjoon grinned. “I’m not the one who gave their soulmate fifty roses on Valentines’ Day,” he sighed, going on his tiptoes to get something to eat off of the top shelf. His hand landed on a bag of chips that could have been one day or one-year old, but he disregarded that and grabbed the brightly-colored packet anyway.
Jimin’s cheeks turned almost as pink as his hair (Namjoon had also forgotten how terrible Jimin was at staying angry). “Just kidding, Namjoon-hyung,” he said sweetly, a syrupy, overly innocent grin on his face. He was fidgeting at even the mention of Yoongi, definitely thinking back to the shocked, almost suspicious look on the florist’s face when he, a broke college student, asked for fifty roses. Still, there was no mistaking the smile that crinkled his eyes up at the corners, the warm auburn haze of pure adoration dancing in his irises. “The roses were so cute, though, weren’t they?”
“Maybe you’re thinking of Yoongi,” Namjoon teased lightly. “Those roses pricked me at least seven times as we walked over to his dorm. Speaking of which, why did I have to carry the roses?”
“I have small hands!” Jimin tossed the foam cup into the trash can that definitely needed to be emptied and held up his palms to demonstrate the (admittedly below average) size of his hands. He reached over the small, fake-granite countertop, taking his phone in his fingers. “Ah, hyung! You want to come to breakfast with me and Yoongi?” A sly grin worked its way onto his face, looking quite out of place among his soft, rounded features. “Seokjin’s coming,” he sang, propping himself up against the counter.
“I would have gone anyway,” Namjoon mumbled under his breath, but there was no denying the fact that he was noticeably more excited at this point. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere off-campus, I think? The food here’s awful, anyway.” Jimin’s eyes flickered to the clock on the microwave. “When’s your next class?”
“Nine,” he replied distractedly, too busy wrestling with the chip packet. He was finally able to crack it open with a satisfying snap, the smell of fake cheese and stale potato flooding the small room. “Why, what time’s it now?”
“Eight-thirty,” Jimin said, cocking a head curiously at him. “You still want to come?”
Namjoon froze, a chip halfway to his mouth. He’d always prioritized his schoolwork above all else, even his own health, whether it was mental or physical. It’d been all that he was good at, hard memorization and logic. But this class was an elective anyway, and also, he was sick of pretending to enjoy the over-salted scrambled eggs and gasoline-tasting coffee that sat in the cafeteria during the day.
“Sure,” he said finally, bringing the potato chip to his lips and ignoring the fact that it tasted at least a month old.
“Hyung! You must really like him,” Jimin exclaimed, a dreamy look in his dark eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you miss class unless you were totally hungover. Not just hungover, but I mean—”
“Yes, I remember,” Namjoon interrupted, doing his best not to recall that one time he’d decided to try one shot (which had turned into two shots, which had turned into ten shots) of extremely questionable tequila, and more importantly, the morning after. “So, breakfast?”
The corners of Jimin’s mouth turned upwards. “Of course!”
--
“Joonie!” The familiar voice called from across the parking lot, a broad-shouldered silhouette waving at them from afar.
“Joonie?” Jimin asked. “Pet names already, I see.” He grinned widely, nudging Yoongi, who was stifling a smile, with his elbow.
Namjoon elected to ignore his infuriating roommate and waved back, squinting into the blinding sunlight. The three of them had taken a nearly empty bus to an extremely stereotypical diner, complete with the faded red awning and the shiny steel exterior. The smell of grease and actually decent coffee lingered in the air, thick and rich, and Namjoon became aware that the single potato chip he’d eaten before had completely dissolved in his stomach, leaving an angry ache in his gut.
The inside of the diner was full of clamor, a few overworked staff members dodging around crowded tables, trays balanced dangerously on their arms. Equally overworked businessmen sat on tall, fake leather barstools, typing furiously on their phones and sipping on black coffee.
They were eventually able to find their way to a small booth, him and Seokjin sitting shoulder to shoulder. It was cramped enough to be intimate, for Namjoon to feel the gentle heat of Seokjin’s skin against his, but not enough to be uncomfortable. The two of them shared a menu, eyes scanning over the stained, laminated sheet.
Namjoon decided to take this opportunity to observe everything he could about his soulmate, his warm brown eyes, the way his fingers thrummed impatiently on the tabletop, the fact that he blinked his left eye (just his left) at some times, how he preferred tea over coffee (which caused Namjoon to hesitate about the whole soulmate thing, seeing as he was literally powered by java).
Eventually, they were presented with plates heaped high with pancakes and syrup, bacon and sausages shining brightly with grease. The conversation that had danced happily in the air seconds before came to a halt as the four of them started to shovel their food into their mouths. Namjoon knew that this would come back to bite him in the ass, making him feel heavy and sluggish. Still, it’d been so long since he’d had food outside of the college cafeteria and the stockpile of ramen and peanut butter in their dorm, so he only hesitated slightly as he chewed the pancake.
They paid the tab in whatever they could scavenge from their pockets (except for Seokjin, who had a debit card).
He’s so responsible, Namjoon thought to himself as he dug through his worn wallet for the last won he needed. How fitting. Finally, they’d come up with enough to pay the waitress, who was looking at them with a mixture of exasperation and annoyance.
“If we’re gonna catch the bus back to campus, we have to leave in five minutes,” Namjoon said, watching as the waitress took away what was the last of his cash and deposit it into the clunky cash register. He breathed in sharply, drinking what was the last of his stevia-laden coffee. “I don’t have any more money for a ticket though.”
Seokjin looked at him.
He has such nice lips.
This was true. They were a deep reddish-pink, full and rounded and decidedly very kissable, though he wasn’t ready to admit that to Seokjin yet.
“I’ll give you a ride back, if you’d like,” he offered kindly. “It’s no big deal. I have class in a bit anyway.”
Namjoon opened his mouth to speak, but his first word was cut off by Jimin, who enthusiastically jumped into the conversation. “Of course! That’s a great arrangement. Now, Yoongi, let’s get to the bus station before we miss it.” He smiled, grabbing his boyfriend by the elbow and ushering the both of them out the door, leaving Namjoon, mouth still hanging open, hand hovering uselessly in the air.
Seokjin’s eyes flickered to him, almost reluctantly, his lips pursed into a small pout. “You… I can just lend you the money for the bus ticket if you—”
Namjoon looked at him confusedly, and realization hit him as he saw the small quiver of hurt fluttering behind his gaze. “No,” he exclaimed, getting up from the booth. “That’s… not what I meant. I just didn’t want to… bother you. Anymore. Since you already paid for my drink yesterday.” The words spilled erratically out of his mouth, awkward pauses between syllables that made him and his self-confidence shrink and shrink.
“Don’t worry about it,” Seokjin said, his eyes wide as the two of them walked out of the diner, raising their arms to shield their eyes from the painfully bright sunlight that splashed across the pavement of the parking lot. “Honestly! Your company’s enough repayment, if debt is a huge thing for you.”
“Really?” Namjoon laughed uneasily. Seeing a sad, unconfident look on Seokjin’s face just felt off, especially knowing that he was the one that made him like that. “I’m really sorry. About that, I mean, because I really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I was going to say yes anyway, because we’re soulmates and everything, so it’s not a big deal. I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to deal with the whole soulmate thing and I’m rambling, aren’t I?”
Seokjin smiled warmly at him, shoulders shaking with gentle laughter. “I promise, you’re doing fine,” he said. “Better than I am, probably. Don’t apologize. The rambling was cute.” Namjoon froze in his place, feeling his eyebrows rocket upwards.
Seokjin paused. “Why do you do that?” he asked, opening the door of his car with a loud clack. Namjoon noticed that his keyring had colorful figures hanging off of it, cute Nintendo characters that swung freely with Seokjin’s movements.
“Do what?” Namjoon replied distractedly, his head still throbbing with the realization that Seokjin had called him cute. Twice! He climbed into the passenger seat, doing his best to adjust the seat to accommodate his lanky frame.
Seokjin’s car was an old but well-maintained machine, its outside tarnished from general use but its interior polished and clean. It even had one of those little air fresheners hanging from the rearview mirror, a cheery pink thing that smelled of lavender.
“You always get really surprised whenever anyone compliments you,” Seokjin said, brows knit in confusion. “It’s happened a lot since we met, and I never understand why.”
This caught Namjoon off-guard a bit. He’d only ever encountered this kind of bluntness from Yoongi, usually followed by repeated apologies on his behalf from Jimin. But this was not Yoongi, and Jimin was on the bus back to campus, and Namjoon was forced to ask himself the same thing.
“I’ve never really been… conventionally attractive, I guess?” Namjoon’s voice was wavering. These words were something that were new to him as well, uncomfortable and unfamiliar, but not as much as they could have been because Seokjin was there, taking his hands and guiding him gently along the path. “I’m not too sure. But I never really got those kinds of compliments as a kid. It was mostly just, you know, ‘you’re so smart!’ and ‘I wish I was as tall as you’, stuff that I knew I was. But… I’m just unsure of myself.” This too was true, especially because it had taken him so long to find his soulmate, long enough that he’d begun to doubt if his soulmate even wanted to meet him.
Now that he thought back to it, it was stupid and irrational, but the fear still plagued him, even when he was literally just two feet away from the person he was meant to be with.
“Why would you ever be unsure of yourself?” Seokjin asked. “You’re- sorry if this sounds creepy, but you’re really attractive, not to mention you’re super great to talk to and everything, and I consider myself lucky to be your soulmate.” He laughed. “That’s so cheesy, I know, but I’m being serious.”
The two of them sat in comfortable silence as Seokjin put the keys into the ignition, backing carefully out of the parking lot and onto the road. With one hand on the gray pleather wheel, he turned on the radio, the loud, irregular screeches of the cellos in “At the End of the Day” punctuating the quiet.
It was a short drive back to campus, and Namjoon decided to enjoy the nice day. A few wispy white clouds had drifted in front of the sun, muting its harsh light, and a gentle breeze swept freely across the parking lot. “Thanks for the ride,” Namjoon said, smiling as he got out of the car.
“You should smile more often, Joonie,” Seokjin said. “You wear it well.”
“Do I?”
Seokjin nodded encouragingly, the two of them meeting at the end of the car. “You do! You have dimples and really nice cheekbones.” He sighed when Namjoon looked at him quizzically. “I’m your soulmate! Let me compliment you!”
“Compliment me on my GPA,” Namjoon mumbled, the burning in his ears starting once more.
“If I want to date someone, it wouldn’t be because of their GPA,” Seokjin groaned, placing a hand on his chin.
“Are you sure?” Namjoon grinned. “I would date me for my GPA, actually.”
“Jesus,” Seokjin said. “I wouldn’t. Well, I mean, I would date you, but not because of the GPA thing. This soulmate system is so ambiguous.” He let out a deep breath. “Let me start over.”
“Go for it,” Namjoon said lightly. His heart felt like it was soaring, and he couldn’t hide the trembling of his hands if he tried.
“I want to be with you, not your report card—”
“Hyung, it was a joke!”
“Was it?” Seokjin asked. “Oh, good! I can do this then?”
He planted a quick kiss on the corner of Namjoon’s mouth, chaste and tasting of tea and stevia.
“If you could do more,” Namjoon stammered weakly, having to place a hand on the surface of the car to steady himself. “It would be great.”
“You have class!” Seokjin sang, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Maybe later.” He shot an overdramatic, sultry wink at Namjoon, who snorted and waved, making his way to the lecture hall.
--
Namjoon had never liked history courses. The one he was sitting in at the moment was boring and slow moving, a disinterested professor reading from a generic PowerPoint to a lethargic class. He was typing out notes on his laptop, trying to gather any information he could from the sluggish voice of the teacher.
He started to grin when he heard familiar, melancholy violins playing at a pleasant volume in his head.
How strange, this feeling that my life's begun at last / This change, can people really fall in love so fast?
Biting down a smile, Namjoon continued to take notes on whatever the hell the professor was droning on about, but the lyrics brought back the thought of biting autumn air, overpriced hot chocolate, stiflingly warm cafés. By the end of the song, the goofy grin on his face brought out the dimples that Seokjin had so graciously complimented before. Everything about this was so cliché yet so perfect, and he felt himself stop, waiting in anticipation for the last line, even humming along with it.
You can find me here.