Chapter Text
you don't get it, yoongi signs, hands trembling with anger. he's standing in their living room, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table so fast jimin almost can't read what he's saying. the latter is slouched over on the couch, on the verge of confused, almost desperate tears.
yeah, you're right, i don't get it. enlighten me, yoongi, on exactly what i'm missing here, jimin signs back, and him signing yoongi's name makes him sick to his stomach. it's 'music' with a y, a name he was given since he was always seen doodling scores in his notebooks. when he'd first told jimin about it, his boyfriend had laughed and kissed him on the nose, saying that it suited him, and he's come to associate his name with the sight of jimin throwing back his head in laughter. before that, though, he'd always winced when he saw his sign name, thinking back to the drive back from a music festival when he was ten. and now, he can taste the same sour tang of loss, curling around his tongue.
there are a million things milling around in his brain, fumbling to be heard, and there are a few on the tips of his fingers just waiting to spill out, stones disguised as words disguised as anger. but he can almost picture the way jimin would look, eyes heavy and jaw slack with regret, a mirage of sadness and pity blinking in his periphery, so he quells the urge and chooses something easy to spell out instead. you were so touchy around him.
this is about jungkook? are you serious? jimin signs furiously, brow furrowed in bewilderment. i've known him since he was in diapers, he's like my baby brother. of course i'm comfortable around him.
yoongi tenses when jimin spells out his name letter by letter, j-u-n-g-k-o-o-k with familiar hands. he had done the same earlier that night, when jungkook had shaken his hand with a good-natured grin and clumsily signed a greeting (that jimin had forced him to learn, no doubt).
when jimin had first proposed the idea of yoongi meeting his childhood friend, who would be flying into seoul the following week to move into his university dorm, he had been wary, but not against the idea, either. sure, he doesn't particularly like meeting new people, detests the wide-eyed looks of pity he receives once they find out about his disabilities, but jimin assured him that jungkook had been the one who suggested he learn sign language, and even showed him a few of his dongsaeng's baby pictures (unnecessary, but yoongi can't deny that they were funny). and so, under a barrage of reassuring and pestering, he had consented to the three of them having dinner together.
of course, jimin had neglected to mention that the chubby-cheeked toddler in the pictures had grown into a handsome freshman with scarily big biceps and a face like a model's. he was also taller than yoongi, a fact that bothered the latter more than socially acceptable. just standing next to the guy made him feel inferior.
jimin had also neglected to mention that he adored jungkook.
the beginning hadn't been so bad. as they waited to be seated, he and jungkook had exchanged pleasantries, jimin translating between jungkook's spoken word and yoongi's signing. after they were showed to a four-person table, though, yoongi had ended up sitting opposite jimin, alone while jungkook had sat next to his boyfriend.
god, yoongi didn't want to be that territorial boyfriend, but when jungkook told a joke jimin would giggle, pink flushing high on his cheekbones, and clutch at jungkook's arm while the younger flashed him that unbelievably attractive sideways grin. and jimin would sometimes forget to translate whatever jungkook just said, too caught up in conversation, and since yoongi still couldn't really read lips twisted with a busan accent he'd just sit there, lost in the absence of their voices. and, even worse, sometimes jimin would glance over at jungkook under his floppy red fringe, with that one look yoongi had only seen directed at baby animals and himself, on occasions when jimin thought he couldn't see, that one look where his eyes were soft and his mouth was curved sweetly in a half-smile; that one undeniably fond look.
and yoongi really didn't want to be that territorial boyfriend, but all of that was too much, made something flare up in his solar plexus and spread through his entire body, red-hot clawing at the underside of his skin. it was all too much, and try as he might he couldn't keep his bad mood from seeping into the air on the car ride back to their apartment (yoongi's apartment. when had it become their apartment, plural? would it even stay that way?), and when jimin had asked him what was wrong as they toed their shoes off by the door he'd snapped, and here they are.
here they are, yoongi glaring furiously from his place behind the coffee table, jimin hunched over on the couch, his back increasingly straightening as he got angrier, fighting over something so incredibly stupid yoongi wanted to shoot himself in the foot for bringing it up. it isn't even about jungkook, for fuck's sake, the kid had been nothing but polite throughout the entire dinner, if a little quiet. but.
but there had been that look, and in all terrible, selfish honesty, yoongi isn't sure he can handle that heartbreakingly fond look aimed at anyone besides him.
and so here they are, yoongi insisting that jimin had been overly affectionate with another guy throughout the night and aren't i allowed to be a little pissed? your hands were all over him, and jimin fighting back, red-faced and insulted, jungkook is my friend, oh my god, am i not permitted to have friends anymore?
what the fuck is your problem? jimin signs at rapid-fire speed. why are you so hung up over this? how many times am i going to have to repeat my point that he's just a friend before it gets into your thick skull?
don't lie to me, yoongi signs, not processing his thoughts before his fingers move and shape the worst insults he can possibly say. seeing the way you flirt with him makes me sick. what am i, just a toy for your entertainment?
he knows, instantly, as soon as he finishes signing the words, that it's the wrong thing to say.
jimin flinches, a flash of hurt coiling in his usually-warm eyes, before his expression steels, lips set in a hard line. oh, shit. yoongi really shouldn't have said that. if there's something jimin hates, it's the thought of someone using others for their own romantic pleasure without any commitment. considering the amount of effort jimin took just so he could accomodate his soulmate, learning sign language and taking note of yoongi's prescription, basically accusing him of cheating is the biggest fuck you yoongi could throw at him.
shit, i'm sorry, i didn't mean it, yoongi lurches towards the couch, hands frantic. jimin refuses to look at him, eyes downcast towards his lap, and yoongi wants to scream. i'm sorry, i'm so stupid, can we just forget this whole thing happened-
jimin finally looks up, eyes cold and distant. he gets like this, when he's utterly and truly pissed out of his mind, his words carefully picked to hit where it hurts. i don't know why you thought that was okay, but that's so juvenile of you. i'm disappointed in you.
yoongi physically recoils, retracting his hands from where they were reaching out to comfort jimin. his words are a slap in the face, a reminder of the times he struggled because of his disabilities, and there would be this awful, crumpled look painted over his mother's face. he's a disappointment to his family, and here is his boyfriend, his soulmate, saying that's all he is, too.
if you've got some kind of miracle excuse that'll save you from tonight's behaviour i'll be glad to hear it, jimin continues, eyebrow cocked in an expression of sarcasm.
it's not an excuse. it's not anything, really. but when jimin had told him to enlighten him about exactly what he was missing it was the issue pressing at the forefront of his brain like a neon sign screaming for his attention; if he's being completely honest it's something he's suppressed for so fucking long he's learnt how to breathe with this weight on his chest. he would rather suppress it for longer, rather swallow it down and bear it than dump this shitty excuse on jimin like a bucket of cold water, but god.
god, he's so tired. watching jungkook and jimin exchange twin smiles during dinner and trying to fight the jealousy clawing at his stomach had taken up a sizeable chunk of his energy, and then fighting with jimin had sapped the rest of it. jimin's words - i'm disappointed in you - had knocked all the fight out of him, and left him emotionally exhausted, and selfish, and tired. he just wants to breathe again.
and so it's with a certain, odd sense of detachment that he signs to his soulmate, his eyebrow still cocked in that stupid, sarcastic face, i don't want you to leave me.
the thing about being deaf, you see, is that everything sounds the goddamn same. whether he's taking a shower or eating dinner or dropping some big, emotional bomb, the only thing he ever hears is staticky silence. he's long since forgotten the drumming of water droplets against tile or the hum of the refrigerator or the ragged evenness of someone breathing beside him, little things nobody ever takes note of but misses when they're gone. the thing about being deaf, you see, is that whether you're fighting or saying 'i love you', the world is still shrouded in a heavy blanket of soundlessness. and yoongi fucking hates that.
he hates that he doesn't know what his best friend's laugh sounds like anymore. he hates that he can press the piano keys all day yet he can only feel the reverberations under his fingertips. he hates that he can't hold a proper conversation with new people and has to rely on his boyfriend to translate. he hates that he's memorised every freckle and smile and hidden corner of jimin, but he will never know his voice.
he hates, most of all, knowing that there are people out there who can make jimin happier.
yoongu thought he could accept it, being a choice jimin made because the universe told him he had to. he had spent so long bearing a grudge against the world for taking his soulmate away from him, that when he found jimin he pushed away his doubts to soak in the happiness, at least for a while.
but old insecurities are hard to forget and harder to overcome, especially when he's reminded of them every morning he wakes up to silence. meeting jungkook was a huge slap in the face, a wake-up call, reminding yoongi that there are seven billion people in this world, seven billion others who would be lucky to have jimin light up their lives like he does to yoongi, and he is only half the man he could have been.
the look in jimin's eyes shutter, like broken christmas lights, and suddenly yoongi wants to take his words back. he would never want jimin to look this shocked and pained.
yoongi, he signs, and though yoongi flinches the firm set of jimin's jaw forces him to keep looking. i'm never going to leave you, okay? we stick together, no matter what. soulmates, remember?
yoongi sits down heavily, his legs giving out along with his will, tilts his head back to meet the glass of the coffee table. soulmates leave, sometimes. it happens.
and it's true. in some unexplained universal lottery you get one shot at finding the person you'd be most likely to spend the rest of your life with, and way more often than not, the universe is right. but sometimes feelings wear thin together with patience, and words on a wrist no longer mean anything but love found and love lost. the world can try as hard as it can to produce zero anomalies, but there will always be exceptions.
it can happen, jimin concedes. but not to us, if we keep trying. have you already given up on us?
why haven't you? yoongi signs back, and jimin's chest rises as he inhales sharply. you could have the world in your hands, jimin, why should you be here putting all this effort into me?
don't you dare say that, jimin clambers down from his spot on the couch, joining yoongi on the floor. jimin's side is warm against his, and he tries not to think about waking up in the mornings tangled in jimin's warmth. you give as much to me as you think i give to you.
someone else can make you happier, yoongi signs, closing his eyes. he doesn't want to see this conversation play out, whatever direction it's heading in.
the calluses on jimin's fingers, worn in by years of dancing floorwork, are rough against yoongi's chin, but the touch is gentle. jimin tilts his chin towards him and taps it lightly. he doesn't sign anything, but yoongi gets it. he's done it before, on yoongi's bad days, when he does nothing but curl up in bed and replay the accident over and over in his head, refusing to look at anyone until jimin taps his chin and kisses him on the forehead. it means, look at me, but it also means, i'm here. with you.
so he looks.
jimin is looking at him, his eyes crafted with puzzle pieces of love and concern and hurt and sadness, strung together with an undercurrent of fiery determination, and yoongi's chest feels six times too small for his ribcage.
how can i be happier with someone else, jimin signs, slowly, like he wants yoongi to get the message, if i'm only happy when i have you?
jimin tilts his head, gauging yoongi's reaction as he drops his hands onto his boyfriend's knees, and he must see how everything simultaneously goes still and roar up in a tidal wave in yoongi's mind, because he leans forward and presses his lips against his. the kiss tastes like salt, and yoongi belatedly realises he's crying.
why are you pushing me away? jimin asks. why are you telling me to go when you want me to stay?
yoongi blinks away the teardrops still clinging on to his eyelashes. because i want you to be happy, is what he ultimately decides on.
jimin exhales, his breath fanning across yoongi's cheekbones. you can make me happy, if you can promise that you'll believe in us. that you'll always hold on and believe that we'll be together in the end.
yoongi wants to promise him this, wants it so badly his chest aches. but he cannot make empty vows, not when there are still decade-old demons swimming around in the corners of his mind.
i don't know if i can, not yet, he says. jimin deserves the truth.
it's okay. i can believe hard enough for the both of us, jimin signs. for now, i'll be happy if we can go to bed.
yoongi nods, and jimin pulls him to their bedroom by the hand, cutting off their conversation. it's okay. yoongi has a lot on his mind, and he's tired, and all he wants to do is sleep until noon and then make his boyfriend a stack of blueberry pancakes.
it's only when they're already under the covers that yoongi turns to jimin, his head on the pillow and legs tangled up together. i'm so lucky to have you.
jimin smiles and kisses yoongi's nose, gently correcting him. we are lucky to have found each other.
and that, yoongi thinks, is something he can believe in. just for now.