Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

12/27/16. These are the numbers that will be displayed on his wrist for the rest of his life.

Park Jimin has never been on a date. Nor has he had his first kiss, flirted with anyone, or fallen in love. His classmates would ridicule him and base nicknames over his distaste toward anything romantic. (Look, here comes Saint Jiminie!) Even his younger brother would make fun of him while his parents watched with pitying looks on their faces.

Nobody understood.

The tattoo usually manifests on the sixth birthday. It can, and will, vary depending on the person; some children will get theirs a year or two earlier or later. For Jimin, it was the night of his seventh birthday when the numbers appeared on his wrist--the mark of his future soulmate's date of death.

12/27/16.

Even with the feeble mind of a seven-year-old, he knew his date was different. His classmates all had tattoos that ended in numbers that ranged from sixty to seventy, while he was stuck with a number as low as sixteen.

In the past, people have tried to avoid it. They kept their soulmates on close watch the day they're supposed to die; locked them in the house and rid the area of anything that could be potentially dangerous. On the darker spectrum of things, others have tried to commit suicide to escape the feeling of knowing exactly when their lover's life will end.

Resistance is futile. Fate always comes out on top.

The night he got his tattoo, Jimin woke his parents up with his screams.

He remembers the crestfallen face of his mother as she realized that her son's soulmate would die thirteen years from then.

He doesn't think he'll ever forget it, either.

Chapter Text

August 31, 2016

"I can't believe you're making me do this. Actually, no- I can't believe I'm letting you make me do this."

Parties have never been his thing. Jimin would rather stay home and do something productive than be Taehyung's designated driver. His fall semester classes started tomorrow; he didn't want to be late (or worse, hungover) and get a bad reputation on his 3.9 GPA.

Nevertheless, he parks his car outside the biggest frat house on campus, trying to ignore the shouts of his best friend.

"Let's go, it'll be fun. You've gotta get out of the house more," Taehyung says as he gets out of the car, motioning for the other boy to follow him across the street, "meet some new people. I'm the only friend you have."

Jimin coughs in surprise, his cheeks burning hotly. "No way, what about Yoongi-"

"The guy from the convenience store doesn't count, Jimin," Taehyung cuts him off, reaching backward to grab his arm and drag him along. Jimin's eyes linger on the former's wrist for too long; he knows why his tattoo is crossed out with a thick black line, but it never ceases to surprise him.

Taehyung's soulmate died at a very young age. It's a rare case. Luckily, they never got the chance to meet, so he was never really affected by it. The first words he ever spoke to Jimin, in fact, were "I'm Kim Taehyung, and my soulmate died when I was nine." (Jimin wonders if he should call them soulmate when he was only nine years old, since how would a kid know?)

"He does count. Yoongi's studio is in the same building as my dance classes." Jimin retorts, reluctantly following behind Taehyung.

"Whatever, that still only marks up to a grand total of two friends. Besides, drunk driving is illegal, and you're my designated driver. So don't drink too much." Taehyung walks up the steps with Jimin in tow, knocking on the dark double doors as he makes it to the porch. Even from outside, the music is blaring, and it hurts Jimin's ears.

He already regrets agreeing to this.

A girl with short hair opens the door with a lopsided grin, waving at Taehyung to come in. Jimin notices that the girl is at least two inches taller than him. Goddamn it.

"Why can't I go anywhere without looking short," he mumbles, but it gets lost in the loud music as he's pulled into the party. The sheer amount of people that are packed in the room makes him queasy. He's able to see a clearing of bodies being used as a makeshift dance floor and recognizes Hoseok, a dance major in his class. He's too immersed in the music and the way his body just goes with it to notice Jimin staring, wishing he could move like that.

"You okay?" Taehyung asks, giving him a small shake. Of course he was caught staring, he's got the worst luck out of everyone he knows. (Granted, that's not very many. Still.)

"Just wishing I was at my apartment, doing something that will actually benefit me in life," Jimin says, loud enough to be heard this time.

"Ah, stop being such a sore-ass and have fun, Jimin," Taehyung rockets off, then, probably to locate the alcohol. He's left alone, standing as still as a statue in the middle of the crowd that flows around him like he's a figment of their imaginations.

"Fuck, Tae," he utters, maneuvering his way through the mass of people to find his way into the open kitchen. It's secluded here; there's about ten others, but it's better than out there. He'd rather be in a room by himself, but there's the high chance of walking in on someone, and that is not how he wants to remember tonight.

Instead, he leans against a counter by the fridge, pulling out his phone.

To: TaeTae

im in the kitchen by myself i hate you

He presses send with a frown, wondering if Taehyung has already become the life of the party in the mere five minutes they've been apart.

"Not a big fan of parties, either, huh?" he picks up an unfamiliar voice just as he's planning to send another hate-filled text. Jimin looks up from his phone and finds himself staring up at another boy. On instinct, he covers his wrist with his small hand before really getting the chance to look at this mysterious new character.

Jimin's first impression is tall; his forehead lines up with the other boy's lips (really thick lips, if he does say so himself), but everyone is tall to him. This guy is no exception (yes he is). His hair is styled to look as though he spent hours upon hours on it, but it's not the cut that sticks out.

It's the fact that his hair is fucking pink.

"Um... Yeah, I guess," he stutters out, trying to look away. He hasn't interacted with someone this close to his age group other than Taehyung and Yoongi for such a long time, he nearly forgets how to talk. "My friend brought me here. Designated driver, you know the story," Jimin laughs then, hoping it doesn't sound too awkward.

"I know it well," the tall boy responds, "my friend told me I needed to loosen up a little, that I was too stressed. So, here I am, albeit reluctantly." He grins.

Jimin tries not to drop his phone.

He realizes the boy has a set of deep dimples and that he closes his eyes when he smiles. This shouldn't be happening; Jimin has trained himself to reject any feelings like this ever since he was seven years old. It's too dangerous.

"Anyway... It's Kim Namjoon. Nice to meet you, though the circumstances aren't the best." He extends a hand out to Jimin, who blinks twice before reaching out with his own.

"Park Jimin," he says, grabbing Namjoon's hand and shaking it firmly; business-like. He doesn't want the latter to get any...ideas. It takes him a moment, but an irritating itch makes itself known as his hand is still in contact with Namjoon's, and he tries to brush it off before he realizes exactly where the nuisance is coming from.

His wrist.

Immediately, he breaks the handshake and pulls his arm up to look at his wrist, feeling sweat beading on his forehead.

There, directly below the tattoo, is a snaking dotted line. "Oh my god," he gasps in utter disbelief, beginning to shiver. His eyes move from his mark to Namjoon, who is glancing down at his own wrist with a look of realization on his face. Jimin is caught staring again when the taller boy meets his eyes slowly, his eyebrows raised.

"Guess we're soulmates then, huh?" he says, lips twitching into a omniscient smile.

Jimin swallows hard, his head shaking slowly. "No. No, we aren't."

He refuses to look back at Namjoon as he stumbles out of the kitchen, his heart beating a mile a minute.

There's no use in trying to find Taehyung. Instead of looking, Jimin marches straight out of the double doors, his fists clenched so tightly that there are sure to be crescent-shaped marks on his palm soon. He makes a beeline straight for his car parked outside, wrenching the door open and tumbling into the driver's seat.

To: TaeTae

we need to go NOW come out here

When Taehyung doesn't answer in a matter of seconds, Jimin breathes a shaky sigh and calls him instead. It takes three rings before he finally picks up, and Jimin is on the verge of sobbing.

"Tae, we have to go now," he gasps, trying to calm his breathing.

"Fuck, Jiminie, what happened?" the boy on the other side of the line inquires, "give me a sec, okay-"

"Please hurry," he says before ending the call, shoving his phone back into his pocket and leaning his forehead against the steering wheel.

Thirteen years.

Thirteen years he spent subduing the average human instinct to engage in a relationship. Thirteen years of enduring teasing from everyone around him. He was so close, so close to making it to December 27, 2016 without ever meeting his soulmate.

Thirteen years. All for nothing.

In his minds eye, he sees Namjoon, that pink hair of his styled like an accessory. He sees the dimples in his cheeks and the way Jimin's entire hand gets enveloped by the other boy's.

He sees him suffering the worst death possible four months from now.

As soon as the first tears of helplessness glide down Jimin's face, Taehyung opens the door and slams it closed as hard as he can in a hurry. There's immediately an arm around his shoulders; words of concern slipping into his ears. It takes five minutes of back-rubbing and Taehyung asking what happened that Jimin finally removes his hands from his face. He looks up at Taehyung, biting his lip to keep a sob from escaping; lifts up his wrist to show the new line under his tattoo.

"I met him, Tae."

September 14, 2016

It takes two weeks before he can bring himself to even look at Namjoon's texts.

Jimin has yet to figure out how the other boy got his number; suspects it was probably Taehyung. He hasn't saved him as a contact yet, but the only people who ever text him are Taehyung and his own mother. Yoongi, occasionally, if he needs something (those texts usually come around at two in the morning). Jimin stares at his phone for what feels like forever, contemplating whether to use "horrible" or "terrible" to describe this idea.

He feels like it's both combined.

From: Unknown Number
[9/1/16, 8:46 p.m.]

hey jimin this is namjoon from the party remember? i got your number from a friend and i was just wondering what happened last night

Jimin sucks in a breath, scrolling down to read one sent three days later.

From: Unknown Number
[9/4/16, 10:32 p.m.]

i get it if you need space but we can't ignore this forever

"That's exactly what I had planned on doing," Jimin grumbles, reading the last text.

From: Unknown Number
[9/14/16, 11:15 a.m.]

jimin the side effects will start soon

Oh.

He had forgotten about the side effects. While it's not common that soulmates avoid each other after they meet, it happens. Fate, as it would seem, is very strict in its rules, and attacks soulmates that refuse to be together. At first, it's small things; a nosebleed or a headache, but the more time spent away from your "one and only", the conditions get worse. A case or two every couple months involve someone who has died from it.

Fate ruins everything.

Instead of texting Namjoon back, he brings up Taehyung's contact and calls him.

"It's too early for you to be calling me," he groans from the other side of the phone.

"Shut up and listen. Do you know where Namjoon lives?" he asks nervously, "I... I never got his address. Or, anything really."

"Finally going to face your problems like a big boy instead of hiding from them, Jiminie?" Taehyung jokes, laughing heartily at his cleverness.

"Don't be a smart-ass. Just tell me where he lives, Taehyung," he attempts to growl, but it comes out sounding like a high-pitched whine that sends the other boy into another fit of laughs.

"He's in dorm 2-B, same as the guy from your dance class. Hoseok, wasn't it? Who even lives in dorms anymore?" Taehyung continues to ramble on, but Jimin's already stuffing his feet into his shoes, running a hand through his orange hair in a half-assed attempt to make it look like he's been getting more than two hours of sleep a night. "By the way," Jimin catches Taehyung say through his prattling, "you've gotta hook me up with that Hoseok guy. Talk about a killer body," the both of them end up laughing.

"Well, dancing requires a lot of work, Tae. I've got a 'killer body' too, y'know," now Taehyung is the only one laughing, "I've just been... Laying off on the exercise in favor of studying." Jimin proceeds to open the door to his apartment, shoving his keys into the back pocket of his sweatpants. "Listen, I gotta go. 2-B, right? What's his room number?"

"Thirty-four. Hell, Jimin, you'd think he's my soulmate, not yours. You have to get to know this guy. There's not-" Taehyung cuts off abruptly, but Jimin knows exactly what he was going to say.

There's not much time.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that. Just... Go see him, okay? From what I've heard, Namjoon-hyung is fifty-percent brains and fifty-percent legs. I bet you two will get along great." Taehyung covers his mistake quickly, Jimin gives him that.

"I'm scared," he whispers, realizing he's said it aloud. "Thanks for the help, TaeTae. See you later," before the other boy gets the chance to say goodbye, Jimin hangs up and puts his phone into his pocket, right next to the apartment keys.

2-B isn't much of a walk from his street. About five minutes, if he has to guess. He sees only a couple of students out and about, some walking in groups. Others walk all by themselves, like him. Jimin has to force himself not to stare at the ones who walk in pairs, hands clasped tight against each other. There's a couple that walks right past him; Jimin stares down at the ground as the girl stretches her neck to kiss her soulmate on the cheek. They break into laughs as he distances from them, shaking his head slowly.

Somehow, he's jealous.

He's jealous because that won't ever be him. There's no doubt in his mind that, even with the three months he has left, he and Namjoon will never get to the point of having a romantic relationship. Jimin can't let himself dig his own grave like that, can't let himself enjoy the feeling of being around Namjoon. If I'm so dead-set on not getting attached, why am I walking to his dorm? he thinks, looking up from the sidewalk to spot the dormitory only a block ahead. If Jimin's going to be honest, he thinks about turning around and never coming back. So what if the side effects came after him? Only three months of it before he's free, a thick line crossing out his tattoo and letting him breathe for the first time in his twenty years of living.

Instead, he opens one of the main doors to Namjoon's dorm and lets himself inside, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly before making his way to the hallway on the left. Every room number is driving a stake deeper into his heart (twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three), forcing him to question his motives for coming here.

He doesn't come up with a reason.

The door of room thirty-four is made of dark wood. Jimin breathes hard, in and out, once more. His pudgy fist makes one, two, three knocks on the door.

Please don't be home, Jimin's head screams over and over. I didn't even tell him I was coming.

Aforementioned, he has the absolute worst luck.

Namjoon stands in the doorway, rubbing his eyes as if he just woke up. "Listen, Jackson, my classes don't start until tomorrow, let me-" as he finally removes his hands from his face, he realizes who is standing in front of him at the same time Jimin sees that Namjoon isn't wearing a shirt.

"N-Namjoon, it's Park Jimin. I," he shields his eyes as Namjoon hurriedly covers himself, his eyes blown wide and his cheeks turning an unnaturally deep scarlet, "I was w-wondering if I could come in?"

Namjoon has settled a bit, his blush-tinted face cooling as he makes the opening of his door into a sliver that he can peek his face through (his cheeks and eyes look puffy from sleep, Jimin thinks "cute" before he can stop himself). "So you avoid me for two weeks and decide showing up without warning is the best thing to do?" there's not a sign of hostility in Namjoon's voice, though his words could be taken that way. "That's not really how it works, Park Jimin." He chuckles then (it sounds forced) and Jimin feels as though he's taking a step off a cliff when he hears it. "I guess you can come in, but I should... I should probably get a shirt on first," his laughter changes from fake to awkward while Jimin shifts his feet and clasps his sweaty hands together.

"Okay," he answers, flitting his eyes to the floor, taking away the temptation to watch Namjoon's bare back as he disappears into the room to get a shirt. When he reappears, Jimin takes note of how tired he looks.

Apparently, this has affected both of them more than he initially thought.

Namjoon opens the door reluctantly, waving a hand to give him permission to come into his room. "It's...kind of dirty in here, my roommate doesn't know how to clean up after himself." He kicks a pair of boxers that are splayed out on the floor to the side, a blush returning to his face and the tip of his ears.

Jimin takes nervous glances around the room, noticing how one side is nearly completely barren, while the other has a vibrant array of posters, food wrappers, and... Action figures?

"So... Are the figures yours, or your roommate's?" he inquires, trying to lift the incredibly dense air.

Namjoon laughs awkwardly again, rubbing the back of his neck with one of his hands. (Why are his goddamn hands so big? The size difference of their hands makes Jimin feel heat in his cheeks, because he is definitely not thinking about getting to hold them.) "Ah, Jackson brought those from Hong Kong, where he grew up. They're his, and so are all the boxers all over the floor. Try to ignore those." Namjoon's gaze darts up to meet Jimin's eyes, moving away to look at the clothes he's wearing. "Do you need to take your hoodie off or something? We keep it pretty warm in-"

"No!" Jimin shouts abruptly, shaking his head. The outburst surprises both of them, but he can't let Namjoon know. He chose to wear a hoodie because the long sleeves cover his tattoo. Jimin can't see himself ever letting the mark be exposed when he's around Namjoon. "N-No, I'm fine."

The notion of the numbers on his wrist force him to look away from the older boy's curious eyes. He breathes in through his nose rapidly to keep himself from thinking about the inevitable curse tied around Namjoon's neck.

Three months.

"Anyway... Jimin," Namjoon breaks the silence, "there's this restaurant down the road from here that has the best food in all of Busan. I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go with me since, you know, we're soulmates and all."

"We aren't soulmates."

Jimin can physically hear the sound of Namjoon's heart breaking at the seams.

"You can't avoid this. You can't avoid us." Finally, the helplessness and hurt is evident in Namjoon's voice. "Jimin, you know how it goes, you can't just pretend-"

"I'll go with you, okay? Just don't... Don't get any ideas, Namjoon, please," Jimin feels his own voice straining as he gives in and looks up. "I don't even know how old you are, or anything about you. We don't know a single thing about each other, for god's sake-"

"Twenty-one," Namjoon answers.

"What?"

"I'm twenty-one." Namjoon repeats, shoving his hands into his back pockets, "I wanted to go out so we could get to know each other. I've been... I-I didn't know if you were coming back, Jimin, I thought we were going to die because you hated me for some reason, and-" Namjoon stops himself, taking in a shuddering breath.

Jimin feels like he's the worst person on this earth.

"Listen, Namjoon," he tries to be gentle, "it's not that I hate you, I've just never been in a relationship before." Lies. He's such a liar. "I was just worried that I would mess something like this up. We can go to the restaurant, okay?" the lies he's spouting feel dirty in his mouth, but Namjoon seems to believe them.

"It's only a short walk, but I should probably change out of my pajamas before we go, huh?" Namjoon says quietly, and Jimin detects the faintest of smiles on his face.

"Hyung," he responds, "it's college. Everyone has worn pajamas out in public before."

When they both laugh, Jimin can't help but hear how well they sound together, the laughter mingling into one like they were matching puzzle pieces.

"You weren't kidding when you said this place had the best food in Busan, were you?" Jimin says blissfully around the food in his mouth.

Namjoon has already finished an entire plate, but he leans forward to cram more of the food into his mouth from the second serving he ordered. Although he is kind of a sloppy eater, Jimin is gracious to find that, unlike himself, Namjoon does not talk with his mouth full.

He tries to wait patiently as Namjoon finishes the rest of his food, but ends up fidgeting in his seat like a child. Luckily, the restaurant has a temperature cool enough that it does not require him to take off his hoodie and show off his tattoo. It's nice; only one other student is in the room with them (and she appears to be asleep in her food). Some song Jimin can't focus on is playing quietly from the speakers while Namjoon tries his best not to display his habit of eating loudly.

"I guess I learned at least one thing about us," Jimin says.

"And what's that?" Namjoon asks, looking up through his eyelashes to meet the younger's gaze (which is apparently too much, because they both glance away in a hurry), pushing his second clean plate to the side.

"We both have terrible eating habits. You'll wake up the entire student body if you eat any louder, Kim Namjoon." Jimin stares at him intensely (as "intense" as Park Jimin can look) before he breaks out into a grin.

Namjoon, in turn, smiles back at simply seeing how Jimin's slightly chubby cheeks raise enough that his eyes become crescents. (He's not studying it. Of course not.)

"At least I'm not giving everyone a show of what my food looks like as I chew it," Namjoon retorts, causing Jimin to laugh.

He's heard the younger boy laugh before, but now he's positively snorting at a joke that truly wasn't that funny. While the older boy has somewhat of a low chuckle, Jimin's giggles make Namjoon flush from his head to his toes because it's just so pure and he's sure this is exactly what ascending into heaven sounds like.

As Jimin settles, wiping a tear from his eye, Namjoon chooses to clasp his hands together on the table and stare at them rather than the former's glowing face. "A-Anyway," he begins, "didn't you say that you wanted us to know each other better?"

"Yeah, yeah, that was the goal. Let's see, ah... First off, not to be boring, but... Where were you born?" Jimin asks, setting his elbow on the table and leaning his head into one of his soft hands.

"Goyang. There's not much more to say about my childhood, really," Namjoon sighs at his own expense, "I ended up here because the school system seemed better than back home. Got to put that IQ of 148 to use, huh?" he really shouldn't have left that slip, but Jimin probably has thousands upon thousands of achievements while all he has is intelligence and-

"W-What? Taehyung said you were smart, but hell, Namjoon," Jimin's eyes are wide and he's leaning forward in his chair (he feels really close). "Compared to that, I don't have much to say... I was born here and I've never really traveled anywhere else. I'd really like to, if you want me to be completely honest-"

"I could take you," Namjoon interrupts, immediately regretting his impulsiveness.

"You what?" Jimin splutters, his face lighting up with a blush that spreads ear-to-ear.

"I-" Namjoon suddenly finds the floor very interesting, refusing to look away from it, "I could take you somewhere, I don't know, it was just a s-suggestion."

Jimin sighs quietly, holding his head in his hands. "You're rather adamant about getting close to me, aren't you?" he laughs, not even sure himself if it's real or fake, "let's just stay here and take lunch dates for now. We shouldn't rush things, right?"

Namjoon finally fancies Jimin's face over the floor and stares, seemingly, right through him. "Y-Yeah. For never dating anyone in your life, you act like quite the relationship expert."

"I guess I never thought of it that way. I just imagined that I had common sense," Jimin says, his still-slightly chubby cheeks lifting into a grin.

Namjoon can't help but smile back, his gaze flitting to one of Jimin's small hands. Bravely, he reaches out excruciatingly slowly to take it in his own hands, mustering all the strength he has not to crush the tiny hand by accident.

Of course, Jimin's first thought is to yank his hand back, but he doesn't. Namjoon's hands are incredibly warm (and...kind of sweaty, gross), and it just feels right, he thinks. How cliché. He inhales sharply as if to gather himself before he pulls his other hand out from under the table and opens one of Namjoon's much larger hands to compare. It's a simple move, he won't think anything of it, Jimin's mind tells him.

The color of the older boy's face says different.

"You're... You're really cute," Namjoon says, sounding as if he's trapped in a reverie while he closes his fingers around the smaller hand.

Jimin realizes then that it's going to be rather hard to keep Namjoon away for more than five minutes from now on.

September 16, 2016

The next time Jimin shows up at Namjoon's dorm room, he makes sure to text the latter before leaving rather than showing up unannounced.

It's only been one day since they went to the restaurant, but Jimin knows that the cursed strings of fate are pulling them together again; he wakes up that morning with a red stain on his pillow and nostrils caked with blood. That is the way he realizes the side effects vary for each couple, and wonders if Namjoon had the same problem.

Taehyung has been in the same disarray ever since Jimin came back from his second meeting with Namjoon. They are both unexperienced in the world of soulmates, so trying to figure things out is an entirely new set of uncharted catacombs to discover.

"Are you sure that you aren't gonna, like, explode when you see him? That nosebleed really caught me off guard," Taehyung shouts from his spot on the living room couch.

"It caught you off guard? I'm the one who woke up inhaling blood through my nose when I tried to breathe," Jimin replies as he slips into his shoes, "and I'm pretty sure that there will be no explosions in Namjoon's dorm room, Tae."

"You sure?" he calls back.

"Yes, Kim Taehyung; now don't call me when I'm there. And don't invite that Jeongguk kid over, either; last time he came here the microwave was broken because you two had tried to microwave the spoon for your ice cream, my favorite shirt was dyed pink, and I was out of lube. I don't know what you two had to use it for, but please tell me that there was some kind of protection," Jimin tries out his "stern voice" as he speaks to the younger.

"Gukkie's hand got stuck in the garbage disposal," Taehyung responds simply.

"I'm not even going to ask." Jimin groans, and he doesn't hear another word from Taehyung as he closes the door to their apartment.

It's a bit of a surprise when a blonde boy nearly the same height as him answers the door instead of Namjoon's familiar face. The reason for surprise is mainly because holy shit, there's a guy in this world who's just as short as he is.

"You're Jimin, right?" the guy (must be Jackson, the roommate, he reminds himself) says, a smile on his face.

"Yeah, Namjoon told me he was home, um..." Jimin tries to look into the room behind Jackson's form.

"Of course he's here, that guy never leaves other than to go to his classes," he turns around to face the other way, "Namjoon! Hey, your other boyfriend is here, and he wants you!" Jackson then tumbles back into the dorm room with a grin, leaving Jimin to stand in the doorway with a blush spreading across his face. Other boyfriend?

"Fuck off, Jackson!" Jimin hears before Namjoon himself is opening the door and pulling the younger boy in by the collar of his shirt.

Jackson sits with his arms (he's wearing a blank tank top that really shows them off) lying across the top of the couch between their beds, a rather high-pitched laugh making Jimin's bright red face fill with even more heat. "Y'know, Joonie, at first I was really hurt that you were cheating on me, but now that I see him... You really pulled yourself together for this one, man." Jackson's eyes glide to look at Jimin, and he stands up from the couch, extending a hand. "Jackson Wang, at your service," he smiles again before leaning in closer to Jimin's ear, "call me when this klutz over here gets too much for you." And he's back against the couch with that strange laugh.

"Watch it, Wang," Namjoon hisses to his roommate before turning to the youngest boy. "We- He and I aren't dating, Jimin," Namjoon tries to explain, his face the same shade as his hair, "Jackson likes to harass our guests before he knows them; he has his own soulmate, we aren't dating," he sends a scowl towards Jackson.

"I know you love me," Jackson coos, still smiling.

Jimin starts to think that coming over was a mistake.

"Listen, Jackson, do you think you could leave us alone here? We were planning on watching a drama or something, and you aren't exactly quiet while watching stuff like that," Namjoon asks, and Jimin notices that his voice is a little shaky.

"Oh, you guys need privacy? Sure thing," Jackson tips his head toward Jimin and winks, which causes the youngest to blush even deeper (if that was still possible). "I'll return the favor for you, Joonie, since Bammy and I have kicked you out before." He gets up and stretches; a strip of his abdominal muscles peek out from under his tank top and, no, Jimin doesn't stare, not in the slightest.

Jackson decides not to wear shoes as he steps out of his dorm with nothing on his feet but a pair of socks. "Have fun, lovers. I've got condoms in the bathroom if you-"

"Get out!" Namjoon snaps and Jackson slams the door behind him, cackling all the way down the hall.

"Jackson Wang, everybody. He's... He's really a handful, to say the least," the taller boy huffs before he collapses on the couch that faces a small television screen hitched on the wall. He takes the remote in his hand and switches it on, flipping through channels while Jimin still stands, leaning against Namjoon's bed.

"Joonie, huh?" he says, after the silence gets too much for him.

Namjoon laughs, running long fingers through his pink hair. "I don't know how he came up with it, really. It's stupid."

"I think it's cute, Joonie," Jimin teases, breaking out into a grin as he witnesses Namjoon turn pink. "You get embarrassed too quickly, it's fun to play with you."

"Don't toy with my feelings, Park Jimin. I think they've had enough of you to last a lifetime; now come sit down and watch My Love From Another Star with me."

"How romantic," Jimin groans, but he's on the couch before Namjoon can say anything else.

They've lost track of the amount of episodes that have played on Namjoon's sorry excuse for a television, and Jimin doesn't remember when or how his head got on the older boy's shoulder, but it's really fucking comfortable. His eyelids feel heavy; neither of them are still truly focused on the drama in front of them.

"Tired?" Namjoon whispers, making the slightest movement to look down at the boy nearly asleep against his shoulder.

"Mm," said boy mumbles, nodding his head. His head must be cloudy; there's no way he'd be so touchy if it wasn't, right? (Who was he kidding? If you looked up the definition of "touchy" in the dictionary, it would be printed right there in the book: Park Jimin.) "What time is it?"

"Almost ten p.m., why?" Namjoon responds.

"Damn it... Taehyung will destroy our apartment if I leave him there by himself for too long," Jimin sighs, nudging his head farther into Namjoon's shoulder (seriously, he's breaking his own rule), "but it's really comfy here." His voice comes out as nothing more than a whine, and Jimin himself is not entirely sure whether it was intentional or not.

"You should get home, Jimin. My Love From Another Star can wait." His gaze moves from the boy to the screen, but he makes no move to turn it off. "Actually, no. This is a good part, you could stay for a bit longer."

"I wasn't planning on leaving," Jimin mumbles, cracking open his eyes to watch the drama. Of course he's seen this episode before; he knows the two actors are about to kiss.

But Namjoon, apparently, has this whole scene memorized.

"All men go crazy when they see me," he utters with a smile on his face, mimicking the female actor on the screen, "they catch on fire."

"Stop that," Jimin flat-out giggles, hitting Namjoon's chest as they both laugh.

"Can't help it, I've seen this drama too many times to count." Namjoon stares intently at the screen before speaking again. "Give me fifteen seconds," he says at the same time as the actor.

"Oh my god, are you going to act out the whole thing?" he jests as his head lifts from Namjoon's shoulder. In the background, Jimin can hear the annoying beep of the fifteen-second timer from the drama. They face each other, mirroring the television. "You're really gonna act it all out, aren't you," Jimin mumbles, but his statement gets lost when he notices just how lovingly Namjoon is gazing at him.

He knows that this time, it isn't just a copy of the drama.

Near the fifteen second mark, the two on screen kiss, but the destined soulmates are too busy to care. Namjoon flits his eyes to the screen for a fraction of a second before he slowly places his hands on Jimin's thighs, inching closer by every second. So much for only fifteen seconds; their mouths meet at a farther point in time.

Jimin's first thought is that Namjoon's mouth kind of tastes like the mints his mother would give him for acting well-behaved at a public place.

His first move, though, is jerking his head backwards.

"N-Namjoon, I told you we weren't supposed to do this-"

"You aren't exactly an open fucking book, Park Jimin," there's hurt in his eyes. Hurt that he caused. "You make up these rules but then you're the one who goes and breaks them, so what am I supposed to think?"

The drama goes on as background noise, oblivious to their argument.

"I can't--I can't do this," Jimin stutters, lifting a hand to rub the bottom of his swollen lip. "I'm sorry, Namjoon."

The other boy sinks into himself on the opposite end of the couch, his momentary outburst seemingly over. "We're supposed to be soulmates," he whispers almost pathetically, making Jimin have to lean in to hear. "I've been waiting to meet you for a long time, fuck; whenever I felt like I couldn't do it, I'd always think 'don't worry, once you meet your soulmate it'll get better.' Look at me now," that sad laugh crushes Jimin, showing him exactly how disappointed Namjoon is that he ended up with him rather than someone who will never leave his side, someone who truly loves him. "It's a joke. We're a joke."

It won't be a joke when you realize that you only have three months to live, Jimin thinks, feeling his stupid eyes fill with stupid tears that threaten to spill down his stupid cheeks. "We aren't a joke, Namjoon," he answers (honestly, every damn word that leaves his mouth is contradicting).

"Who are you kidding?"

Myself.

Jimin reaches to grab two small fistfuls of the older boy's shirt, pulling him close almost too quick; he's never kissed, but everyone knows clashing teeth aren't a good sign. He quickly recovers by squeezing his eyes shut hard enough to see stars and opening his plush lips to lead the kiss into something a bit more than its original intent.

Namjoon follows along. Jimin wonders how many people he's experienced with. (It never lasts after the first kiss when non-soulmates try to build a relationship. Fate gets its grubby little hands on it and rips the lovers violently apart; Jimin still feels as though Namjoon has kissed others.)

My Love From Another Star is completely forgotten.

September 21, 2016

Jimin likes Fridays.

They remind him of accomplishment, and he's sure managed to get quite a bit done this week.

Taehyung drags his feet rather loudly as they trek home from the campus library. The only thing he checked out was a couple girls who were completely minding their own business. (No, Taehyung, they aren't looking at you.) Jimin, on the other hand, carries several textbooks in his hand that were check-outs. No girls for him.

Just books.

"I'm tired, Jiminie," Taehyung whines.

"We're almost home. C'mon, pick up the pace. Did you even sleep last night? I heard you got home at almost four in the morning, but I'd rather not ask what you were out doing." Jimin responds, hefting the books up to get a better grip on them.

"Jiminie, I'm hungry," Taehyung avoids his questioning, "let's stop and get something to eat. Please? We can even go to Yoongi's store, he's working tonight."

"Ah," Jimin agrees, "I guess we could. I haven't seen Yoongi-hyung in a while. It's almost eight o' clock, so his shift should be ending soon. Can you pick yourself up and help me carry these books so we can get there faster?"

"Hell, Jimin, I'm not the one who goes to the gym every morning. See you at Yoongi's," Taehyung taunts, sprinting off to leave his friend in the dust.

"Why do I even bother," Jimin sighs, racing off after Taehyung.

Jimin has known the older boy for one year, but he doesn't know much about Min Yoongi other than that he's always tired and always irritable. Who can blame him, though, after working at a convenience store all day only to take classes at night, it only makes sense. To tell the truth, he worries over Yoongi more than his own mother does.

"Welcome," Jimin hears Yoongi grumble as he and Taehyung walk into the store, "ramyeon is fifty-percent off-" he's cut off when he looks up and realizes that it's not the casual every-day customer.

"Hey, hyung!" Taehyung shouts, parading around the shelves of instant noodles straight up to the counter where Yoongi sits in the complete opposite of an upright position.

"Just as I think it's almost closing time, the two loudest kids on the earth show up. Congratulations to me," Yoongi deadpans, taking a cautious glance around the store before pulling a pack of cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans. Meanwhile, Jimin plants his ass right on the counter, wiggling his hips to get more comfortable while the oldest boy watches in disgust. "I just wiped this down," he groans.

"How are things with you? Actually, no, I think I know how things are, hyung. You're smoking on the job; that's not a good sign, huh?" Taehyung snags the pack of cigarettes from Yoongi's limp hand.

"I was using those," he says weakly, dangling the single cigarette that Taehyung didn't manage to take between his fingers. "I've got a lighter in the cash register, you want one too?"

"Hyung," Jimin chides, crossing his legs, "you're only twenty-three; I don't think smoking a pack a day is the best thing for a college student."

"It's not a pack a day, Jimin. Only half," Yoongi smiles, showing off his gums.

"Besides," Taehyung interrupts, "aren't you trying to become a rapper or something like that? It's bad on your voice."

"Rapping is a hobby. I'm a music production major, and girls like rappers with a rough voice anyway. Nice try, but you aren't taking cigarettes from me just yet," Yoongi finishes, sitting back in his chair after taking the lighter out of its hiding place. In one swift motion, he ignites it and lights his cigarette.

"This is depressing." Taehyung comments, narrowing his eyes at the cashier. "You're depressing, Min Yoongi. Get a girlfriend or something, for fuck's sake."

"Stop, Tae. He just needs to get out more, that's all," Jimin retorts.

"You guys do know I'm behind you, right?" Yoongi scoffs, blowing a series of smoke puffs from his mouth.

"Public places scare him, Jiminie," Taehyung argues, completely oblivious to the oldest's words, "I've never seen him at a party. Ever."

"If you guys are gonna talk about me when I'm right here, I might as well leave." Yoongi juts his thumb at the clock on the wall that displays his time in cashier hell ended five minutes ago. "I have class soon, anyways. Thanks but not really for stopping by, I truly don't appreciate it."

"Aw, hyung, don't go. We're really sorry, okay?" Jimin cuts in, scooting himself over the counter to face Yoongi. "We haven't seen you in a while, so we wanted to stop by and check on you."

"Are you my mother, Jiminie?" the cashier responds sarcastically, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Yeah, I'm your mom, and Tae's your dad," Jimin replies with the same amount of sarcasm, "now cut the attitude and come get a drink with us."

Yoongi suddenly sits up in his chair, his eyes alight unlike the two younger boys had ever seen. "This conversation just took a turn for the better. Now I'm listening."

"Can always count on soju to get Min Yoongi's attention," Taehyung murmurs, but nobody pays any attention to him.

"So, drinks it is," Jimin hops down from the counter, extending a hand to the cashier.

"Treat me, Park Jimin," Yoongi smirks and uncharacteristically takes Jimin's hand, "a couple of shots sounds a shit ton better than class." The two saunter out from behind the counter and out of the store, leaving Taehyung behind to collect himself and pick his jaw up off the floor.

September 31, 2016

One week; one whole week without seeing Namjoon.

One whole week without a bloody nose, fever, or pains.

Jimin thinks that its a sign (the future is getting brighter for sure). It's not like he misses Namjoon anyway. He's managed to convince himself that the kiss they shared was just a dream; what really happened was just him falling asleep on the older boy's shoulder, that's all. Nothing more happened that night.

Taehyung sticks his nose into every single thing that happens in Jimin's life, though (he's been racing about the apartment blithering about how Jimin has to call Namjoon again all day).

"You can't ignore your soulmate, Jimin! For all we know, he could be dead somewhere just because you're ignoring him," Taehyung rambles while Jimin sighs and lets his head fall into his hands.

"He's not dead, Tae. It's only been a week." Jimin runs a hand through his orange hair; he notices how smooth it is rather than the disheveled feel from when he had been stressed out of his mind over Namjoon. Things truly are getting better, he thinks, smiling to himself.

How selfish.

"He's your soulmate, Jiminie!" Taehyung suddenly slams himself against the back of the couch, thrusting his arm out in front of Jimin to show off his mark. The latter stares at the tattoo despite himself (looking at anyone's tattoo but your own is indecent; a sin). "If I still had my soulmate, I'd never leave their side. No matter what my mark says."

Jimin crosses his arms and looks away. "We're different," he grumbles.

Taehyung scoffs, pulling his arm back as if he got burned. "I've never really been mad at you before this, y'know. You're acting like a little kid; that's supposed to be my label. You've never been selfish before, either, for fuck's sake, I'd go far enough and say that you're the most selfless person I've ever known. This isn't you-"

The rambling is cut off with a knock at the door.

Jimin disregards all of his friend's words and gets up from the couch. "If that's Jeongguk, I'm going to kill you," he says, refusing to make his way to the door anyway.

"I didn't... I didn't invite him," Taehyung stutters, cocking his head sideways in confusion.

Realization hits Jimin like a ton of bricks.

"Oh my god," he utters, "it's Namjoon."

"If you think I'm gonna answer the door, you're dead wrong," Taehyung grumbles, taking Jimin's wrist in an iron grip and dragging him toward the door, "that is your problem to deal with."

"Tae, stop-" Jimin tries to tug his arm back to no avail.

Taehyung pulls the older boy forward, nearly making him fall in the process. "You're not going to kick him out, you hear me? I'll be in my room." With that, he retreats so quick that Jimin only registers the sound of his footsteps.

As Jimin is left in silence, the door in front of him shakes with another round of pounding from desperate fists. Instead of vocally reassuring the person on the other side that he's there, Jimin wrenches the door open with as much force as he can muster.

Immediately, he's met with the fatigued face of Kim Namjoon.

His skin (usually such a soft bronze) is drained of color; his eyes underlined by dark bags. Despite the paleness of his face, blood is splattered around his nose and mouth like paint on a canvas.

"Oh my god," Jimin says, his voice going hoarse at the sight of his soulmate.

"Is... Is it okay if I come in...?" Namjoon coughs out, refusing to look Jimin in the eye.

"Namjoon, what-" Jimin's mouth drops open and he can't find any words to comfort the boy at the door. He can't find words for anything; the crimson blood that surrounds said boy's face catches him so off guard that he feels the sudden urge to hurl. "What... What happened to you?"

"You happened," he coughs, tightening his grip on the doorframe. "Please let me come in," he repeats.

Jimin feels like he's suffocating.

"O-Of course," the younger stutters, completely opening the door to let Namjoon in. Immediately, the latter nearly collapses onto Jimin.

"What the fuck?" Taehyung's voice echoes around the apartment just as Jimin didn't think anything could get worse. "What the fuck did you do to him, Jimin?!"

As he leads Namjoon to the couch, Jimin tries to clear his head. It wasn't my fault, he thinks, none of this was me. But when Namjoon coughs weakly and splatters Jimin's shirt with blood, he feels the guilt threaten to utterly crush him.

"Sorry," Namjoon's voice is so quiet that he can barely hear it. "I tried to stay away, I really did."

"You asshole!" Taehyung exclaims, tripping over himself as he runs to assist his roommate. "I'm calling the hospital," he breathes out as Namjoon is settled on the couch.

"No," the soulmates say simultaneously. Jimin kneels next to the couch, moving pink strands of hair away from Namjoon's sweaty forehead. He bites his lip as his brain overworks itself thinking about what he should do. God, he hated this more than anything.

"How much more unpredictable can this get," Jimin utters to himself, shaking his head. "Tae, get a damp towel, please," he adds in a louder voice, wracking up all the basic medical knowledge he learned from his mother.

"Got it," Tae responds, hurriedly making his way to the kitchen.

Namjoon's eyes are unfocused on Jimin's face and there's a strange, soft smile that lifts his cheeks ever so slightly. It's just as endearing as usual, even with the bloodstained teeth. If Jimin was a poet, he could write thousands of words about the way his soulmate's full lips rise away from his teeth and how his skin dimples at his cheeks.

But Jimin's a mere performing arts major, and he's terrified of falling in love.

(Despite the fact that it's already happened.)

"I kind of thought you were gonna close the door in 'm face," Namjoon's voice is unfamiliarly disoriented and slurred; the usual precise articulation has been lost.

Jimin feels as though his selfless, "angel-like" reputation has been tainted simply by his fear.

"I wouldn't do that," he says carefully, listening for Taehyung's footsteps.

He can't control his words anymore.

"I think you would," Namjoon begins, but that drunk smile is still plastered on his face. Before he can elaborate, Taehyung shouts some gibberish and sprints back into the living room with his damp towel.

The roommates exchange the towel and Jimin begins to clean the stains from Namjoon's face. Sometime during the procedure, the latter falls asleep and Jimin has to force himself to stop staring at how the stress completely leaves the other boy's face. He wants to witness this sight every day of his life, really; there's no way he can deny it at this point.

"He's fucking staying until he doesn't look like a zombie," Taehyung cuts in, grabbing Jimin's shoulder and pulling him up.

"But-"

"Not arguing about this. Text his roommate and tell him; I've met Jackson and I'm extremely sure that he won't mind having the room to himself."

"How do you know Jackson?" Jimin inquires, changing the subject knowing that he won't win the argument.

"Dude's at every party I've ever been to," Taehyung explains as he edges Jimin away from Namjoon's sleeping figure. "Quite a riot, that guy; and coming from me, that's a high standard."

Jimin giggles without reluctance. He couldn't ask for a better best friend.

"Thanks for keeping my head on my shoulders, Tae," he says, offering up a smile to show that he's genuine.

"C'mon, don't get all sentimental on me," Taehyung fires back jokingly, giving his friend a light punch on the shoulder. "You'll get through this," he assures, "let's just hope that your big guy over there doesn't snore."

That night, the only snoring he hears comes from Taehyung.

October 5, 2016

Namjoon's recovery was something that would probably be unexplainable by doctors.

Again, Jimin blames fate for phenomenons such as this.

His medicine was naps; about three of them to be exact. By then, he claimed he felt back to normal and pondered how, exactly, he got over the illness so quickly.

A couple days have passed since then, yet Namjoon has camp set up on Jimin and Taehyung's couch.

Obviously, it took some convincing from Taehyung to get the oldest boy to stay; the catch was that they made these plans while Jimin was at class. At first, the plan was for Namjoon to stay until he was revived, but that fell through due to Taehyung's worrisome antics. (But also because Jimin's best friend and soulmate had become unnaturally close in the span of a couple days.)

Today, he can hear the laughter before he even opens the door to his apartment. He recognizes Taehyung's breathless snorts instantly, but the other sounds he hears are new to him. I've never heard Namjoon laugh like that before, he thinks as he turns his keys to unlock the door.

As he walks in, Jimin notices that the two are playing some video game; Namjoon seems to be winning.

"You asshole!" Taehyung shouts, but said asshole just grins harder.

"Hello?" Jimin sing-songs, "I'm back from class. It seems you two are too busy for anything, so I guess I'm making dinner?"

"Yeah, Jiminie, go ahead," Taehyung responds, although he probably didn't even hear his question correctly.

He sighs, taking off his shoes.

"Sorry, Jimin," Namjoon offers him a look of remorse from across the room, which is apparently just what Taehyung needs to take advantage of him in the game.

"Ha! Take that, you fucking nerd!"

Jimin shakes his head with a small laugh. Maybe having Namjoon present wasn't as bad as he originally thought.

October 11, 2016

Usually, Jimin makes it to sleep by one in the morning.

For some reason, today is different; his professors have given him an absurd amount of homework, and he's used to hours of work. This is just excessive.

Taehyung is snoring at the other side of the room, but other than that, it's completely quiet. He likes the quiet.

His lamp is turned on and his pencil is slowly moving around to make words on his paper. It's kind of funny how delusional he is; he's unsure if he's just writing nonsense or actual words.

His head dips just as a soft rapping occurs from the door. Either a very kind burglar is robbing his apartment or Namjoon's insomnia is kicking in.

Reluctantly getting up from his bed, Jimin fumbles with the doorknob before opening his bedroom door to meet face-to-face with his soulmate.

"Hi," he whispers awkwardly, squinting his eyes at the bright lamp that covers his face with light. "You can't sleep either?"

"Homework," is his simple response.

"Ah, I see."

The silence is awkward, as per usual, until Namjoon speaks again.

"Is it okay if I come in?"

Jimin would describe his words as "careful." They're quiet, as if he's afraid for the answer.

(Jimin recalls a book he read once when he was younger. It claimed that soulmates are instantly in love with each other and have no difficulties in their relationships. He and Namjoon have proven that statement wrong in about a month.)

"Uh... I g-guess if you want to," he stutters, opening the door wider to let the blanketed figure in. "Tae's asleep, though, so we can't be loud."

Namjoon nods. He makes his way to Jimin's bed, uninvited, and sits on it. Straightforward, the owner of the bed thinks as he gathers his supplies and moves them off the bed so he has room to move next to Namjoon. So much for getting his homework done.

As the older boy begins to protest, he shakes his head in reassurance. "It was just stressing me out anyways," he says; it's both truth and lie.

"You handle your stress well," Namjoon compliments, turning his head to look Jimin in the eyes. "I can't deal with mine like that. I-" He pauses for a second as if to think about his next statement thoroughly before saying it. "I get panic attacks sometimes. It gets hard to breathe; the hands around my neck are metaphorical but they feel so real."

Jimin's heart deflates as he listens. "I'm sorry you have to go through that, Namjoon," he rests a small hand on his soulmate's. The gesture is relatively small, but it means everything to the both of them.

"It's okay."

Silence.

"I love you," Jimin blurts.

And everything falls into place, just as fate hoped it to be.

October 24, 2016

"I caved," Jimin confesses.

"It was going to happen either way," Taehyung says, "now you have to make it up to him."

"I know."

October 31, 2016

Jimin's never skipped class before.

Not a single time in his life; not even in high school. But his record is broken today.

Namjoon said it was special and Taehyung went on about how it's Halloween (although Jimin doesn't know anyone besides his roommate who celebrates the strange "holiday"). The latter is planning to stay home and play some sort of new video game until he completes it while his two friends go out.

On a date.

The word "nervous" is an understatement for how Jimin feels.

Ever since that late night confession in his bed, Jimin has reluctantly accepted the fact that he's fallen extremely in love with Kim Namjoon. It hurts; kills him even, but he knows there's no way around it.

"I was thinking we could go see a movie or something," the older boy suggests as the two of them walk down the street, clad in clothes that can keep them warm against the chilly autumn air.

"Whatever you want," Jimin responds quietly, feeling embarrassed at how his face is red due to both the presence of his soulmate and the cold weather.

"I enjoy just taking walks with you around campus, actually; especially with the scenery looking the way it does. This is my favorite season," Namjoon seems to get lost in his admiration, looking around at the trees and their melding colors. "You fit right in with your hair like that," he jokes, finally looking down at the boy next to him.

They both laugh; the sound merges together just as well as the leaves on the trees. "I don't even know what to compare you to, pink demon. What even compelled you to make a color choice like that?"

"I want to leave a lasting impression in people's minds. I felt like pink was the best color to complete the task," he explains. Another round of laughs emerges and Jimin takes careful notice of how he and Namjoon's steps match up. Since the latter's legs are much longer than his, he has to take two steps in between Namjoon's single step, but they still fit together.

"I've always loved the scenery, but adding you to the mix blows everything I've ever witnessed out of the water," Namjoon marveled, closing his eyes for a couple seconds.

Jimin doesn't even comment on how embarrassing his soulmate is; he takes ahold of the older boy's hand and gives it the slightest of squeezes to show his appreciation.

"So, dinner and a movie?"

"Of course, Namjoon. Anything, as long as you're with me."

November 13, 2016

"Min Yoongi, diagnosed with depression? Never would've guessed," Taehyung groans.

"Stop, Tae. This is serious. We're heading out to visit him right away," Jimin scolds, loading a couple candies from the fridge into his backpack to give to Yoongi. "He seemed so dead tired when I spoke to him on the phone, I thought he was going to die on me right there."

"Y'know, seventy-six percent of people find their soulmate during college. If Yoongi's part of the other twenty-four percent, that's really gonna suck," Taehyung rambles as he ties his shoes. "He locks himself up in that damn studio and only leaves to work a job that he absolutely hates. No wonder he's got depression."

Jimin kicks his roommate in the foot as he passes him and opens the door to the hallway.

"Just the company I need, huh?" Yoongi mumbles, sounding just as happy as usual.

"We brought chocolate," Jimin offers, diving a hand into his bag and pulling out a little wrapped candy.

"Wow, Jiminie, I didn't know that candy cured depression. Sure you aren't a medical student?" Yoongi drawls sarcastically, pushing himself in his rolling chair back to his desk.

"Okay, we can just leave then. He just wanted to help," Taehyung snaps, shooting a look at the oldest boy. "It seems as you're busy anyways. Got any money from this lil' hobby yet, hyung?"

Jimin breaks into the argument that's forming before Yoongi can come up with something to say. "Hey! Can we stop with the attitudes, please?" he begs, setting the candies down on Yoongi's desk. "We came to make things better, if all possible; not worse. We're worried about you." He offers a sad smile.

"I'm fine, Jimin," Yoongi grumbles, refusing to look at the two younger boys in his doorway. "It's not as if I've gotten worse."

"Want to talk about it?" Jimin questions, leaning against the desk.

"Not really, no."

Suddenly, Jimin gasps. "Hold that thought, hyung; I forgot my gym bag in the dance studio yesterday. It's right down the hall, I'll be right back," he turns around and whispers, "Help him," to Taehyung.

As he leaves the two in tense air, he speed-walks down the hallway. There have been numerous complaints from both sides of the dance studio and the recording studio about having to share a building. Personally, Jimin doesn't mind it; some of his classmates argue that the music that comes from the recording studio is too loud. Being so close to Yoongi is a plus, though.

Before he even opens the door to the dance studio, he hears the blaring music.

Alone in the studio is his role model, Jung Hoseok.

He has yet to notice the younger boy; the music has captivated his senses. Jimin can't help but watch. Hoseok mesmerizes him time and time again.

As the song ends, Hoseok finally turns to see Jimin standing awestruck in the doorway. A heart-shaped smile lights up his face instantly. "Ah, Jimin! Are you here to practice?"

He swallows nervously before answering. "O-Oh, no, I forgot my bag here yesterday and I just-" he spots the bag and points at it hurriedly, "-needed to grab it really fast. I'm so sorry for bothering you-"

Hoseok chuckles; Jimin doesn't know if it's at him or with him. "No worries! Actually, I was just finishing; want to close up with me?"

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks in response, cursing himself for being so embarrassing in front of someone he idolized.

As the two of them leave the dance studio, Jimin remembers the reason that he was here in the first place. "Hyung," he starts, "I have to stop at one of the recording studios. My friend stays there often; he's a music producer."

"Really?" Hoseok wonders. "You know what, I might as well meet him then. What's his name?"

"Min Yoongi," Jimin responds.

Hoseok cocks his head questioningly. "I don't think I've heard that name. I try to meet all of the students that come here; I'm surprised I haven't met him yet."

"His studio is right here," Jimin points out, opening the door to find Taehyung and Yoongi getting along for once. The two of them look up at the new visitor, who grins at them.

Taehyung loses interest after a couple seconds and looks at Jimin for an explanation instead; meanwhile, Yoongi continues to stare at the stranger's glowing face.

Jimin thinks that Hoseok's radiance showing itself in Yoongi's studio is the next best thing to him going outside.

"This is Jung Hoseok," Jimin says, "he's in my dance classes."

Hoseok reaches his hand out to Taehyung first. "Sorry it's sweaty," he jokes as they shake hands, "just got out of practice."

Taehyung smiles back, "Name's Kim Taehyung; nice to meet you. And no problem, man. Jimin comes home drenched in sweat all the time; I'm used to it."

They'll make great friends, Jimin thinks, at the expense of my embarrassment.

"Min Yoongi." The oldest, who has seemingly escaped his trance, pipes up. Hoseok takes his hand in a firm, businesslike way.

Just as how Jimin and Namjoon's first handshake had gone.

Jimin recalls the data that Taehyung gave out earlier then. At first, he thought it pointless.

But at this moment, he learns that Yoongi is indeed part of that seventy-six percent.

"Ouch," Hoseok hisses, slapping at his wrist as soon as the contact between he and Yoongi is broken. "A mosquito or something, I think."

But Jimin knows.

Taehyung looks between the two several times, then at Jimin. His eyes are so wide, they look like they're about to pop out of his head.

Hoseok and Yoongi both lift their wrists to stare at how their marks change.

"Wh-" Yoongi starts to form words but loses them to how shocked he is.

"This is..." Hoseok also stumbles over himself, probably for the first time in his life.

Taehyung breaks the quiet, leaping up from his chair with a shout. "Oh my god! Jimin, oh my god!" he yells, sounding like he's more ecstatic than the new soulmates.

"We're soulmates," Hoseok finally states, looking up from his wrist at the appalled boy frozen in his rolling chair.

At that moment, Yoongi's face, chin to mint-green hair, turns the brightest shade of pink that Jimin has ever seen.

November 19, 2016

"I love this," Namjoon says. "Just you and me. Together. It's all I ever wanted."

"You're cute." Jimin compliments.

Time is running out.

November 29, 2016

Jimin is happy.

He's happy for Yoongi and Hoseok, who are practically inseparable these days (Yoongi pretends to be annoyed by his soulmate's clinginess, but it's obvious to Jimin that he loves it).

He's happy for Taehyung, who has been spending more time with Jeongguk lately and learned that he, too, was stolen from the gift of having a soulmate.

He tries to be happy for himself and Namjoon.

They spend so much time together now that Jimin's able to recognize his soulmate's breathing and point out almost every mole on his body.

Maybe it's a soulmate thing; maybe it's not. Jimin doesn't care.

He still wears long sleeves constantly to cover his tattoo. It's a grim reminder of what's to come; not only does he not want Namjoon to see it, but he hides it from himself, too. Jimin wants to enjoy every moment he has with Namjoon without being constantly evoked of the fact that he has about a month left.

Fuck.

It's Taehyung's idea to invite their small group of friends to the apartment for a party. (Jimin refers to it as a "get together" in the group text.)

Namjoon alternates between living at his dorm and staying with Jimin and Taehyung; he reminds them often about how thankful he is for them giving him a break from Jackson. He's been staying with them this week, so he helps set up for the party.

Hoseok arrives first; Yoongi's in tow. Jimin learns that it's a small world when Namjoon and Yoongi catch sight of each other. Apparently, the older boy lets Namjoon borrow his studio on occasion; Jimin never knew that his soulmate was into producing.

"I see we've both gotten lucky," Yoongi comments, gesturing to Jimin first and then his own soulmate.

Jimin covers his face as he blushes and Namjoon places a hand on his waist to comfort him.

Taehyung, who apparently is not a fan of the sudden PDA, speaks up. "Food's in the kitchen," he announces, "Jimin cooked for us, so it oughta be good. Living with him is a gift."

"What's with the compliments?" Jimin whispers to Namjoon, "I didn't know that everyone was going to grow close due to their mutual love for me."

Namjoon chuckles as he starts walking away to help Yoongi and Hoseok get comfortable. He fits right in with them; the three start small talk instantly. Jimin watches fondly as Yoongi complains that he's tired from the walk and Hoseok ushers him to the couch as Namjoon follows them, laughing at the oldest boy's antics. Jimin does notice that the dark bags that usually line his eyes have faded; Hoseok really is his sun.

A knock from the door echoes around the room and Taehyung flings himself out of the kitchen to answer.

Jeongguk, the freshman with doe eyes and big teeth, stands there with a huge grin at the sight of his best friend.

"Gukkie!" Taehyung exclaims, pulling him inside. "Finally, I don't have to be alone," he sighs.

Jimin notices that Jeongguk's lips move, but he speaks too quietly for him to hear. He shouldn't be prying into his friends' conversations, anyways; everyone seems happy. That's all he wanted.

Namjoon catches his eye as he moves to the kitchen. The food he cooked is out on the countertops; he wonders if the guests will appreciate his work. He always makes the meals for Taehyung, because if he didn't, all he'd eat is instant ramyeon. So, over the years of college, he's gotten pretty good at cooking.

"I'll be the first to eat," he hears Namjoon say from behind him. Before Jimin can turn around, he feels the older boy's arms wrap around his torso in a soft embrace. Jimin holds onto his hands, closing his eyes for a moment.

It's times like these where he remembers his tattoo.

"Tell everyone that it's ready," he whispers, twisting and standing up on his toes to give Namjoon a quick kiss on the cheek. "You can give hugs later."

The older boy pouts, but obliges.

"What'd I say," Taehyung blurts, despite the food in his mouth. Jeongguk, who's sitting next to him, giggles like a little kid and stabs him in the arm with one of his chopsticks.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," he reminds Taehyung before he can blow a fuse for getting stabbed.

"Thank you, Jeonggukkie," Jimin says, though he has the same habit as Taehyung. Maybe that's where he learned it from.

Hoseok nudges Yoongi, urging him to eat more. Meanwhile, Namjoon has a stack of empty plates and bowls next to him. If Jimin had ever worried about having leftovers, one glance to his soulmate's castle of finished dishes eases his concern.

Jimin is happy. He's glad that his friend circle has expanded in such a short time; these are the people who he can confide in when it happens.

As he watches Namjoon help Hoseok urge his soulmate to eat more than one bite, he suddenly feels a wave of mixed misery and guilt rack his body.

Not only is the only one he's ever loved going to die in less than a month; he's introducing his friends to him. They're just going to be riddled with more pain due to the way everyone is getting closer to Namjoon.

Jimin can't breathe.

He feels his face lose color and his small hands start to shake. They lose the grip of his glass of water and he drops it, bringing all the attention to him as the glass shatters on the ground.

"Jimin?" Namjoon is the first to say something, "are you okay?"

"I-" he stumbles out of his chair, knocking it over in the process. "I... I have to go to the bathroom. I'm-- I'm sorry," his voice is so shaky, so unstable that he nearly cries from the concerned looks he gets from his friends.

He hurries out of the room before anyone, not even Namjoon, can follow after him.

Locking the door to his room proves too difficult with his shaky hands; he gives up and collapses onto his bed. The heaving breaths he takes scare him. I ruined everything, he thinks, they all hate me.

His sobs are muffled by the hand he clamps his mouth shut with, but they still echo around the empty room and crash against his eardrums. The only breakdown that rivals this is the one that occurred after he met Namjoon for the first time; he's managed to keep it in for so long that the feelings collapse.

"I s-shouldn't have gone to that party," he hiccups to himself, "this all... It all could have b-been avoided. Stupid," he starts pulling on his orange locks, trying to make the migraine end but ultimately only making it worse.

"Jimin, can I come in?"

Of course Namjoon would come find him.

"Leave me alone, please," Jimin whimpers to no avail. The older boy is already stepping into the room with his eyes trained on Jimin, who turns his back to him.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong," Namjoon states. When he doesn't receive an answer, he continues. "Everyone left. Even Taehyung; he's spending the night with Jeongguk. They have class together tomorrow."

Jimin sniffles in somewhat of a response.

"Can I sit down?"

He nods.

Jimin is a very physical person; Namjoon is not. This night is special, though, and the latter takes the smaller boy into his arms the second he hits the mattress.

"You don't get it, Namjoon."

"No, I don't; but that's not stopping me, is it?"

The sobbing has ended and the room gets quiet. The silence is comforting, though, because Jimin's headache has left him and he's not shaking anymore.

Full lips plant kisses on tear-stained cheeks. Hands of two very different sizes entwine and pull at the very red strings of fate that tie them together; this was always supposed to happen. Jimin knows that now.

He rolls over onto his back and drags Namjoon down with him, locking their lips together in one of many kisses that have been and still will be shared. Between breaths, he pauses to whisper "I love you," before delving into the kiss again. "I can only ever love you, Namjoon," Jimin assures him as they break apart.

His soulmate doesn't give him an audible response; instead, he lowers his head to rest it between Jimin's clavicles. He trails his hand under the t-shirt that Jimin is wearing, dragging his fingertips against the soft skin that has yet to be marked.

"Can I?" Namjoon murmurs, tugging on the bottom of the younger boy's shirt.

The notion sends a shiver through Jimin's spine; he knows where this is going, but there's no denying that this is the path he wants to take. So he nods.

As his shirt is lifted over his head, Namjoon lands another kiss on Jimin's lips. He plants one after another as he travels down to his soulmate's exposed chest before breaking contact and moving away ever so slightly to admire the bare skin.

"It-It's not much," Jimin says, his voice cracking. He's always felt self-conscious of his body, and this is the first time that Namjoon has seen it like this. The thought of his bare tattoo escapes his mind completely; all he can think about is his lover.

"You're perfect, Park Jimin," Namjoon asserts brazenly, "there's nowhere else I'd rather be than here with you. Don't forget that."

"You charming devil," he responds as the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile.

There's hands on his waist now, but they're so gentle that Jimin wonders if they really belong to such an uncoordinated person.

"Wait," he interrupts, "your shirt has to come off, too. You can't leave me alone like this."

So Namjoon pulls his shirt up over his head, revealing dark skin with just the perfect amount of stomach that juts out over his pants. It captivates Jimin completely; he pulls their bodies together and explores the landscape of his soulmate's upper body with his hands.

The sound of rasping breaths fill the air quickly when Namjoon loops his fingers in the rings of Jimin's jeans and tugs them down. Hurriedly, he pulls them off around his feet.

It's obvious that Namjoon is trying his hardest not to make a fool of himself; they both want this to be special, as it's a first. Hurdles are avoided, some are crashed into (but that's to be expected). They laugh softly with each other when it takes Namjoon a good three minutes to get his own pants off before they're inseparably wrapped around each other again.

"You sure that this is okay?" Namjoon makes sure to ask before continuing with Jimin's boxers.

"I promise," he responds, twirling a bit of his soulmate's pink hair around a small finger. "I trust you."

Jimin learns that Namjoon is indeed as clumsy in bed as he is with everything else.

December 1, 2016

Days pass a lot faster than Jimin thought they would.

At the beginning, he thought that each day would be excruciatingly slow and painful; later he finds out that this isn't the case. Rather, the days are fast but pack just as much as pain.

This is the last month.

There's a calendar that he takes out from under his mattress; he marks off December 1st today. On the 27th, he draws a huge "x" in red marker. His eyes linger to the day labeled "Christmas," only two days before.

Merry fucking Christmas to him.

Jimin debates skipping class for the first time in a month. As he sits cross-legged in his bed, he thinks about Taehyung and wonders how he manages to keep above-average grades with how unfocused he is. Jimin wishes he had such a gift; his stress levels would be lowered considerably.

Taehyung is at class now, in fact. This leaves Jimin alone in their apartment with nothing but the calendar and his buzzing thoughts. He can't call Namjoon, either; he's too busy with his schoolwork.

He traces over the red marks on December 27th over and over again, watching the ink bleed through the paper. Jimin knows that he's powerless standing up against fate, but that doesn't change the fact that everything is unfair. Throwing a fit like a toddler seems very reasonable to him all of a sudden as he unconsciously drops the red marker off the side of his bed.

The marks embedded into his wrist burn; he knows it's his imagination. His hand collapses facing upwards towards the ceiling on top of the calendar. Nothing about his tattoo has changed.

12/27/16.

Sobs fill his room for the umpteenth time.

December 9, 2016

"I hate the cold," Yoongi groans, scoffing at the way his breath becomes visible and floats into the air.

"But," Hoseok begins, "you're really cute when your nose gets all red."

Jimin giggles at his friends' interactions. He doesn't talk too much; instead, he likes to listen.

Namjoon walks beside him quietly, enjoying how the fresh snow crunches beneath his boots. It's a pleasure of his for a reason that Jimin can't understand. One of his hands is tucked into his soulmate's coat pocket, trying to stay warm. Namjoon rubs small circles into the palm of his hand, and he can't help but smile.

Taehyung and Jeongguk are a bit behind (they often stop to throw snowballs at each other). The two of them are trying to plan an ambush against the older boys who walk in front of them, but Jimin overhears and shoots them a look. They nearly fall over laughing at his attempt to look stern.

"Do you like this weather, too? I remember you talking highly about autumn," Jimin asks Namjoon, ignoring the jeering laughs from behind him.

"It's second to autumn," he responds, taking in his surroundings covered in white. "Yoongi seems rather sensitive to the cold, though."

"Don't patronize me," the oldest fires back between chattering teeth. "Anyone in their right mind would hate the cold, just like-"

The smack of a snowball exploding against the back of Yoongi's head interrupts him.

Time seems to freeze; every single one of the boys has stopped in their tracks, watching the snow slide down Yoongi's head.

"Oh, shit," Taehyung utters, and time resumes.

Yoongi drops down at a speed that Jimin has never seen before, scooping snow into one of his hands and turning around to fire it at Taehyung. (The whole thing was an accident; he threw it at Jeongguk, who happened to duck just in time.)

Yoongi's snowball makes contact with Taehyung's chest at a speed that is almost enough to knock him down.

"This is not happening," Namjoon remarks in disbelief as an all-out snow war begins in the middle of the street. Other students watch, some join, and Jimin uses his soulmate as a shield. For once, he's thankful for Namjoon's height.

"C'mon," Jimin says, taking Namjoon's hand and pulling him out of the middle of the battlefield. They stumble behind a building as snow flies past them, probably thrown by Jeongguk. He takes everything way too seriously. "College is really something," Jimin sighs, peeking his head out from behind the building and pulling it back in to narrowly dodge a snowball.

"We're being robbed of our adolescence," Namjoon suggests, "no wonder a snowball fight would break out in the middle of campus."

"Don't get all poetic on me," Jimin coos, pulling Namjoon towards him by the strings of his hoodie. "It makes me want to kiss you."

"Just to make me shut up?" Namjoon teases, getting close enough to touch their red noses together.

"No," Jimin corrects, "just to kiss you."

So he does.

Namjoon's lips are warm; he forgets about the cold around him. His cheeks fill with the warmth as one of the older boy's hands cups his face, making their kiss even more intimate. Jimin sucks in a breath of cold air that stings his teeth and brings him to his senses, and he breaks away to give both of them a chance to breathe. Namjoon pulls the hood of Jimin's coat off his head so he can curl pieces of that bright orange hair he loves so much around his fingers. In return, the latter wraps his short arms around as much of Namjoon's torso as he can, drawing him in closer and resting his head beneath the taller boy's chin.

"I love you," they synchronize, holding each other with such chaste desire that when Jeongguk finds them in their hiding spot and pelts Jimin with a snowball, it hardly registers in his head.

Namjoon narrows his eyes at the freshman, giving Jimin a tap on his shoulder to make Jeongguk's mistake evident in his mind.

"It's okay," Jimin reassures him, simply wiping the snow off his coat. "He's just a kid."

"That doesn't change the fact that I'm gonna get even with him," Namjoon scolds, breaking contact with Jimin and bending down to create his ammo.

Jeongguk understands the consequences of his mistakes the second he hits the ground, snow trickling down his face and into his eyes.

December 13, 2016

"Will you forget about me?"

"What?" Jimin asks, caught off guard. "What do you mean, Namjoon?"

"Just... Don't forget me, okay? Don't forget."

"Okay."

Jimin is left to wonder.

December 16, 2016

Sometimes, Namjoon tells Jimin that he's been acting weird lately.

He brushes it off with a new excuse each time as not to raise suspicion; Namjoon blindly believes him. For such a smart person, he's ridiculously bad at reading people, Jimin thinks.

The mixed signals that the younger boy gives off causes tension. They both hate it.

Jimin stares at his foggy reflection in the mirror, cursing his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. How can he cause breakage in their relationship at a time like this? Such a goddamn crucial time like this and he's ruining everything.

(He's overthinking. The worst of it is just Namjoon getting uncomfortable sometimes.)

He's sure Namjoon hates him.

(No he doesn't. He never will.)

Jimin lowers himself to the cold tile floor of the bathroom, nearly hitting his head on the counter as he goes. The chill of the floor nips at his bare legs, causing him to hiss. His still-wet hair drips onto the floor, mixing with his tears. What a joke.

"Jiminie, are you done?" Taehyung shouts into the crack under the door, "I really need to take a shower."

"Y-Yeah, just give me a second," he covers up his sobs, rubbing the skin of his face vigorously to get rid of the tears. It just makes everything worse.

He wraps a towel around his waist and opens the door, looking towards the floor so his damp hair falls over some of his face. He attempts to squeeze around his roommate but fails; Taehyung grabs him by the shoulder and turns him around. With his chubby cheeks being pinched, Jimin is forced to look up at his best friend.

"You can talk to me, y'know. I'm always here," Taehyung's voice sounds unnaturally soft as he gently reprimands Jimin. "I know what's wrong, and I'm sorry it's gotta be like this."

"I'm naked, Tae. So are you. Do you really want to have this talk now?"

"Of course I do."

Jimin sighs, but it ends in a generous smile.

Listening to his roommate's snores helps him fall asleep most nights. They hold him down, make him understand that he's really alive, living in this world that wants him dead.

Silence can't do that for him.

In more ways than one, he's awfully thankful for Kim Taehyung.

"Tae," he whispers, wondering if he'll get a response.

None. But that's to be expected; Taehyung falls asleep rather quickly.

Instead, he reaches under his mattress and feels around for his calendar. He pulls it out, opening it using the bookmark he placed inside on the December page.

The time of his alarm clock reads 11:54. He crosses out December 16th with a line that's too squiggly due to his shaking hands. Each day is counted in his head. He makes it to December 24th before the tears well in his eyes. With every blink, the wet stains that travel over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose are overrun.

He can't make it twenty minutes without crying anymore.

Eleven days. That's how much time Namjoon has left.

Jimin doesn't think he'll make it.

But he knows for a fact that December 27th isn't just going to take his soulmate away, but his heart, too.

December 20, 2016

"I just want you to be okay," Namjoon promises, "that's all."

"I'm fine, really. Just stressed from school."

"Your lies get easier to see through every time you spit one."

"You don't have to believe me."

The subject is left alone.

December 24, 2016

Break has started.

The peace and quiet usually gives Jimin a chance to ease away from his stress, but this year is different.

He curls into Namjoon, squeezing his eyes together in a wince. He can't really cry anymore; especially not in front of his soulmate. The fireplace flickers, lighting up Namjoon's face with an orange glow and leaving obscure, tired wrinkles to be seen. The room is warm and so is his skin, but his blood is always running cold no matter what the situation.

His shivers are just as noticeable as always; Namjoon doesn't ask. Not anymore.

Suspicion raises itself in his mind, but he chooses to ignore it.

"Do you want to have a party with everyone on Christmas?" Namjoon asks softly as he runs his hands through Jimin's fading orange hair.

"I just want to be with you."

"Then I'll be here. Always," Namjoon vows, resting his head against Jimin's and watching the flames of the fireplace lick at the wood until it disappears into little charred chips. The room gets rather cold and Jimin's shaking intensifies.

"Let me get a blanket," Namjoon offers, but is shut down as the younger boy digs his fingers into his hoodie.

"Don't leave, please," Jimin's voice is pleading; it cracks in desperation. He means it in more ways than one.

Namjoon doesn't understand.

"I'll stay, okay? I'm right here, and I'm not leaving."

That's funny, Jimin thinks. He's the liar now, not me.

Namjoon holds his soulmate close through his sobbing.

December 25, 2016

"Merry Christmas, Jimin," Namjoon says as he wakes up the younger boy, setting a plate of breakfast down on the table in front of him.

Jimin yawns, blinking several times to clear his vision and be able register the world around him after passing out like that. "Merry Christmas," he mumbles, speech slurred. "Thanks for the breakfast... Sure you didn't burn it?"

"I worked really hard this time," Namjoon pouts at the notion of his bad cooking skills. "I wanted to give you something nice to wake up to, since you've been so out of it lately."

"I wake up to you almost every day," Jimin explains, "that's pretty nice, I think."

Namjoon turns as pink as his hair and leans down to give his soulmate a kiss on the forehead. "You flatter me."

"So just us today?" Jimin asks as he sits up on the couch and reaches for the plate of food.

"That's what I was thinking. Kind of a lazy day, y'know? Tae's out at Jeongguk's, so we've got the apartment to ourselves," Namjoon says, sitting down next to Jimin. "So...movies?"

"Sounds perfect."

Jimin tries to have a decent Christmas with Namjoon. He really does.

It works until night falls; Namjoon excuses himself from the couch and leaves the room. Jimin heaves out a breath that he has been holding all day. Oddly, he wonders what Taehyung's doing with Jeongguk and hopes that he returns in one piece. He thinks about Yoongi, too; the way he smiles more often and how he genuinely loves Hoseok. His friends are important, and he knows that they'll be around for him always. Jimin thinks he's rather lucky in those terms.

On the other spectrum of his thoughts, Namjoon is scheduled to die in two days.

He pulls down his sleeve with two fingers slowly, reading the ominous numbers of his tattoo repeatedly (maybe it will change if he waits long enough). If only there was more to it. If only the mark told the owner more than just a date.

If only.

"I'm not very good at wrapping things, so I decided just to give this to you straight," Namjoon's voice checks him out of his thoughts, "so. I hope you like it. My bank account is currently crying for help, if that gives you any clues."

He sits down on the couch next to Jimin, holding out his hand.

Two plane tickets sit in his palm.

"Namjoon-" Jimin stutters, "Oh my god, I... I can't believe you spent this kind of money," he gingerly takes one of the tickets to make sure that it's real. "This is amazing." He flips it over, reading his own name on it. Scanning over the information, he notices the airline name and the form of payment Namjoon used.

"This is-" he stops, face falling, as he reads the date they're scheduled to fly.

December 27th, 2016.

"Oh," Jimin coughs out.

"You told me on our first date that you wanted to travel, remember?" Namjoon explains. "New York City, United States. I thought you'd like it."

Jimin's mouth is too dry for him to speak. He just stares at the ticket, his face unreadable.

"You don't have to worry about the money," Namjoon tries to say, worried that Jimin doesn't want the gift. "I was just joking, it's not a problem-"

"It's really nice, Namjoon. I love it."

It's not very convincing, but Namjoon takes it, laughing awkwardly.

"We can start packing tonight, if you want."

Jimin doesn't respond.

December 26, 2016

Taehyung sits on Jimin's bed, patting his friend's back as he gives out unbridled sobs.

"He's talking with Jeongguk in the living room right now," Taehyung frets, "I'm so sorry, Jimin. I'm so-"

"Please d-don't," Jimin croaks, lifting his head from his hands to give a pleading look to his friend. "Don't say you're s-sorry."

"Okay." Taehyung assures him. "I told them I was gonna come help you pack; judging by the rare sight of a mess on your side of the room, you need it."

Jimin has been rather unresponsive lately.

Taehyung gets off the bed and pulls the suitcase over to Jimin's drawers. "How many days will you be-"

"We aren't going to make it, Tae."

"Stop thinking like that. C'mon, you-" Taehyung cuts himself off, knowing he's about to tread in sensitive territory. "I don't want to say this, but you only have two more days. You need to make the most of it."

"How am I supposed-"

This time, Taehyung cuts him off. "Please, Jimin," he says, his low voice breaking into a pitch of desperation that Jimin's never heard from him before, "please. He's my friend, too."

Jimin attempts to make his crying stop. It works relatively well; he stands up and stumbles to his roommate, collapsing into him and fisting his shirt in his small fists. Taehyung doesn't say anything, he just wraps his arms around his friend and gives him an apologetic squeeze.

"C'mon, let's get you packed."

Jeongguk and Namjoon have hit it off rather well despite the snowball incident. Jimin doesn't know if Taehyung told his freshman friend about the situation; doesn't know whether he wants him to.

So far, he's only told Taehyung and Yoongi. They are melancholily supportive of him; Jimin remembers the second of hopeless realization on Yoongi's face when he realized that his old friend was the soulmate of the boy with the tragic tattoo. He wonders if that face will return at the funeral.

He gets bombarded by ideas about what Namjoon's death will be every minute. He's even thought about his own demise on the plane; maybe (if he's lucky) the plane will crash and he'll perish along with his lover. This idea was thrown away when he realized that Namjoon wouldn't be stupid enough to buy plane tickets for his soulmate when he would die before they even arrived at their destination. Nobody would be that stupid.

Jimin wheels his suitcase out of his room and down the hall, tears nearly surfacing the second he sees Namjoon simply standing there talking to Jeongguk. This is the boy that fate gave him; no matter the circumstances, he couldn't ask for anyone better. He loves Namjoon and will love him until he's six feet under (and then some).

His thick pink hair is pulled out of his face as usual, sitting atop his head in a style that (childishly) reminds Jimin of ice cream. Those deep, observing eyes of his crinkle at the corners as he laughs at something Jeongguk says. Dimples appear on his cheeks when he grins.

Jimin wonders if falling in love a second time is possible.

"Ah, Jiminie," Namjoon notices him staring and smiles, "are you ready?"

Jimin nods, blushing slightly at the use of the nickname Taehyung created. It sounds completely different coming from his soulmate.

"We'll leave in the morning, then," Namjoon says, the smile still stuck on his face.

Taehyung walks in from behind Jimin, pulling his friend into the living room as he passes by. "Gukkie and I are planning on watching movies 'till morning comes around, but you two are invited to join us. We'll stay on the couch tonight."

Jeongguk nods, plopping himself down on the couch in front of the television. "Give you guys some privacy, y'know," he jokes inappropriately, smirking at his own joke. Taehyung smacks his shoulder before jumping over the backside of the couch and nearly crushing Jeongguk as he falls onto the couch.

"I think we'll stay in Jimin's room," Namjoon answers, raising an eyebrow questioningly at his soulmate. "Goodnight, Tae. Night, Jeongguk."

"G'night," the youngest two respond at once.

Jimin leads Namjoon to his room and shuts the door, locking it just in case. He turns around and he's instantly touching the older boy on every inch of his body to the latter's surprise.

"Shit," Namjoon curses as Jimin leaves bite marks on his neck, "what's with you tonight?"

"I need this to be special," Jimin breathes, pushing Namjoon backwards into his messy bed.

"Hold on," Namjoon stops him, grabbing his face with both hands. He's on his back and Jimin's front is pressed against his own. "Are you sure you want this?"

"I-" Jimin thought he was sure, but he doesn't know anymore. His mind is hazy and the decisions he's making are irrational because of it. "I... I don't know."

Namjoon tilts his head knowingly, pulling himself and the younger boy onto the bed in a more comfortable position. "I really love how small you are; it makes many things a lot easier," he notions, caressing the side of Jimin's face and leaving his thumb at the corner of his mouth. "We don't have to do anything you don't want, okay? Just being with you is good enough for me."

"I know," Jimin says weakly, leaning into Namjoon's touch. He reaches around the latter's shoulder and pulls his fingers through the hair that's shorter in the back.

"I love you," Namjoon's other hand ghosts over Jimin's spine, stopping to rub circles into the small of his back. "I can't wait to see New York with you."

A tear slips over Jimin's cheek; Namjoon rubs it away with his thumb without hesitation. "Me too," he whispers.

December 27, 2016

Jimin loves mornings. The start of a new day reminds him that history can't touch him if he doesn't want it to. With each day, the past is forgotten and the clock resets.

When the sun filters through his blinds on December 27th, Jimin feels his heart being left on the bed he slept on with his soulmate last night. He doesn't care to pick it back up.

He doesn't want it, anyways. Not after today.

Namjoon is asleep beneath him, breathing shallowly as he dreams. Jimin places his hand on the older boy's chest, relishing in the fact that he's breathing, that he's alive. That he made it through the night. He wonders how much longer his lungs will be able to fill with air as they do now.

He's cried himself dry and Namjoon's still with him. What is he going to do with himself?

The headache begins the second he wakes up. It's going to be the longest day of his life.

"Joonie," Jimin whispers carefully, making sure his voice doesn't shatter into pieces, "wake up. It's..." he releases a shaking breath. "It's the big day," his voice finally cracks, but luckily Namjoon is still asleep.

"C'mon," he repeats, sitting back on his haunches so he can grab his soulmate's shoulders and shake them. "Get up."

Namjoon wakens before the panic can lace itself inside Jimin's brain.

"Mornin'," he mumbles, stretching out his long arms. "You ready?"

Jimin blinks several times before answering, "Yes."

They walk to Namjoon's dorm in the cold hours of the morning. Jackson left the keys of his car out on the counter; the owner is passed out on one of the beds, his arm around another sleeping boy who looks much too skinny. Namjoon tiptoes out of the dorm, making sure not to wake his roommate or his boyfriend.

"Let me run to the bathroom real fast," Jimin notifies as they leave the elevator, hating that he has to let Namjoon out of his sight. The bathroom of the lobby is much nicer than he thought it would be.

The second he collapses in front of the toilet, his stomach is emptied of whatever small meal he ate yesterday.

"Is it okay if I drive?" Jimin asks, even though he hasn't driven a car since high school.

"No, no," Namjoon assures him, opening the driver's side door, "it's your gift, not mine. Maybe we can switch about halfway there; it takes four hours to get to Seoul."

Jimin gives up on arguing. There's no stopping fate.

He reluctantly gets into the car, staring ahead with eyes so blank that he feels like he could keep them open for hours.

"Namjoon?" he pipes up before his soulmate can get his foot off the brake, "you know I love you, right?"

"It took awhile, but of course. I love you, too," Namjoon responds, one hand leaving the wheel to reach over and take Jimin's. "You don't have to worry about the money, remember? I'll pay for all of it."

I'm not worried about the money, Jimin almost spits out loud.

Namjoon promises he's a safe driver, but Jimin's tattoo says different. What feels like hours of driving are really only minutes; the latter can't focus on anything but the small circles that are being rubbed into his palm by the older boy. They comfort him somewhat, but it hurts. God, does it hurt. The airport feels lightyears away and Jimin stares at the tiny clock of Jackson's car, only blinking every time the number changes.

Namjoon taps a beat into the steering wheel with his fingers, seeming to enjoy whatever song that's being played on the radio. He seems so happy that Jimin feels the air lodge in his throat and he almost chokes, coughing suddenly. Why wouldn't he be happy? It's not as if he-

"I know."

"W-What?" Jimin coughs, twisting his head to stare at Namjoon with wild, animalistic eyes.

"I know, Jimin."

"You-"

Thirteen years.

A whole thirteen years preparing for the moment of his soulmate's death.

It was worth absolutely nothing.

Many survivors of car accidents tell the story of how it all happened in slow motion. How they could count every piece of shattered glass that flew in the air, watch the oncoming airbag as it crashed into their face, or see the drops of blood mix with the air and count them just like the glass.

For Jimin, it happens too fast.

He can't count the droplets of blood or the shards of glass; he can't watch as the airbag hits him.

All he sees is the hood of someone's truck smashing into the driver's side of Jackson's car and Namjoon's head hitting the steering wheel before his airbag can even open.

The force of his own airbag knocks him backwards, twisting his neck and most likely bruising his face. He feels blood trickling down the side of his jaw, knowing that his window must have broken and glass has cut him. It's nothing compared to Namjoon, but the airbag in Jimin's face covers his vision from seeing the real damage. The scene of his soulmate's head crashing into the steering wheel replays like a broken record over and over in his mind, causing him to claw at the object in his face so he can get to Namjoon. He has to get to Namjoon.

He cries out in frustration and pain, feeling his fingernails start to bleed from the exertion he puts on them from attempting to get the airbag away from his face. The damn thing finally starts deflating and he instantly wants to cover his eyes once more.

Namjoon's pink hair is stained maroon; the entire steering wheel seems to be the same shade. The blood paints his face and neck, dripping down into thick puddles on the seat below. Luckily, he's faced away from Jimin. The back of his head is almost completely red.

Jimin's scream tears from his throat but his ringing ears don't hear it.

The airbag is being pulled out of his face with such speed that the ache in his limbs can't catch up to him. He crawls across the seat, accidentally rubbing the whiplash on his neck in the process. His hands shake so terribly that he can't unbuckle Namjoon, he can't do anything and the only love he's ever known is dying in front of him and he knew it was going to happen the entire time-

The sound of approaching sirens steadies his hands for a moment that is long enough for him to be able to unbuckle Namjoon's seatbelt. Jimin feels the coldness spread across his spine and through his body as he takes the older boy's shoulders in his hands and attempts to pull him out of the wreckage of the driver's side. His head is limp and Jimin understands, he gets it now, it was never a joke and he doesn't have to pretend it wasn't real anymore.

Namjoon's head lolls between his shoulders and Jimin starts calling for help. "S-Someone," he says, knowing that he isn't loud enough for anyone to hear. "Someone help, p-please."

His ears are still ringing but the sirens are loud enough to be heard from over the earsplitting sound. He gives Namjoon's unresponsive body another tug before he feels arms around his waist, pulling him from the car and away from his soulmate.

"Wait," he bawls, clenching his fist around nothing but air where the familiarity of Namjoon's shirt was just a second ago. "Wait, I need to be with him, I need-"

"Sir, we're taking you to the hospital," the man who carries him to the ambulance says in a stern but careful tone.

Jimin watches the car get farther and farther away through glassy eyes. Turns out he hadn't cried himself dry. Not yet. He struggles against the grip of the EMT, kicking out and acting like a child but he has to know that Namjoon is okay.

(Deep down, Jimin knows he isn't.)

"Let me go, please, I have to see him, I have to be there," he sobs, his outburst weakening by the second. "Please." His pleading is lost as he is put onto a stretcher and loaded into the ambulance, the doors closing in his face and his picture of the obliterated car being lost to the many gruesome images that swarm his head. "Please," he begs hoarsely, but the word has lost all meaning. Jimin stares blankly at the ceiling of the ambulance, not offering a reaction to any of the EMTs as they hook him to machines. "I love you," he murmurs, loud enough for only himself to hear.

One of the EMTs notices his tattoo as she takes vitals, reading it inside her head. With sorrowful realization, she looks away.

He was released from his room three hours after the accident.

That's what everyone refers to it as; but really, it wasn't an accident. Never was.

The nurse that took care of him had called his emergency contact: Taehyung. Jimin and Namjoon had only made it about two hours in to their drive before the "accident."

When Taehyung steps into the hallway and sees Jimin sitting there in a hospital gown, he cries out and staggers to him. "I'm so glad you're okay," he whimpers, wrapping his arms around his friend without realizing that he could be hurting him.

Jimin stares ahead without emotion in his eyes, not having the energy to react to Taehyung's arrival.

They've had Namjoon confined in the emergency operating room for a good four hours now. Rumors of the dying boy's soulmate who sits outside of the room make their way around the wing, being whispered between workers. Jimin ignores it; he sits with his hands hanging between his thighs and his eyes unmoving. Taehyung is next to him, trying to get some sort of reaction out of his best friend but proving it impossible. At some point, after a good hour, he gives up on making Jimin speak.

The hours tick by too slow. Jimin already knows what's happening in that damn operation room.

Apparently Namjoon had known about what would happen today, too.

"Will you forget me?" Namjoon had asked what seemed like forever ago; at the time, Jimin had wondered what he meant. "Just don't forget me, okay?"

"Don't forget."

Jimin didn't have to wonder anymore.

Before the sob can rip down his throat, a figure makes its way out of the double doors to the operation room. Out of the corner of his eye, Jimin notices the green scrubs the man is wearing. Immediately, he knows what the man is here to say. Next to him, Taehyung jumps up from the chair and his mouth is left hanging open in anticipation.

"Mr. Park?" the surgeon asks, squatting down to force Jimin to look into his eyes. When he looks up, he watches the man's expression turn from confusion to sympathy. Of course. The man looks young and strikingly handsome; he doesn't belong in a place like this. Instead of cutting the surgeon off, he stares into his eyes and holds his breath, though he already knows.

He's known since he was seven.

"I'm Dr. Kim. But, Seokjin, if you'd rather." There is no formal handshake. "My team and I received news about your car accident today. Mr. Kim was taken into our operation room in an unconscious state." The surgeon reaches out to place his hand on Jimin's knee. (He notices a wedding ring on his finger. How lucky of him.)

"There was nothing we could do."

Classic. This is always what happens in the movies.

"He passed away, Mr. Park. I'm very sorry," Dr. Kim's sickly compassion lodges itself like a knife in Jimin's gut.

"Don't forget."

He slumps to the floor, making an inhuman sound as he goes. The tile of the hospital's floor feels deathly cold against his cheek that's still freshly sprinkled with cuts. His defeated wailing must be a disturbance, because Taehyung is trying to pull him back up from the floor. Dr. Kim grabs his other arm, trying to help the other boy who he assumes to be a brother or friend.

Jimin doesn't cooperate; he doesn't understand. He can't comprehend the hallway around him as it twists into something morbid. As he screams out what he thinks is Namjoon's name (again, he's lost his hearing), Taehyung and the doctor are forced to drag him by his arms out of the hospital wing.

A young patient, probably no older than six or seven, stands at the doorway of her room and stares at the wreckage of a boy as he's pulled past. She feels compelled to glance at her wrist, where a tattoo is embedded into her skin.

The boy's animal-like howling gets quieter as he is rather forcefully removed from the hospital.

December 27, 2020

Park Jimin has been slowly dying for four years.

He never went to the funeral. Nobody would know who he was, anyways; the guilt couldn't overpower his lethargy.

Giving up feels much easier than attempting to recover.

He was forced to drop out of college after he skipped classes for two weeks straight. In the back of his mind, there was no doubt about him not being able to complete his years. In fact, he skipped out on practically all of his meals and any human interaction; Taehyung would come home and know to leave him alone. He tried to console him in the beginning.

Nothing worked.

Yoongi came to visit a couple months after Namjoon's death. Under normal circumstances, Jimin wouldn't have let him into his room, but the older boy claimed he had something important to tell him.

Namjoon had never talked about his interest in producing.

The small USB Yoongi gave him had "Drifting" written on it in Namjoon's messy scrawl. "I'll leave you alone to listen to it," Yoongi had said. "He would come down to my studio and ask for help until I finally accepted him. The song was for you since the beginning, Jimin. He told me to give it to you."

"He knew, hyung. I was too careless." He spoke the first words that he had in months then, and felt his throat constrict around the words. They came out much too raspy; it was almost too hard for Yoongi to understand.

"He didn't care, Jimin. I don't know when he saw your tattoo, but he came to me afterwards," Yoongi explained, "he didn't give a shit about himself. He only worried about you. He worked really hard on this," Jimin remembered how Yoongi's voice had broke; it was the first time he'd ever heard it hold so much strain.

"I'll listen to it soon," Jimin promised him.

He never did.

Years later, the USB still sits untouched. It made the move from the apartment on campus to the new one; Taehyung bought it after he graduated. He waited until Jeongguk finished the years he needed to, making sure there was one extra room for him.

Of course, Jimin is too unstable to live on his own.

Two years of living in this house (it's not living, not at all) and he's still uncomfortable in it. He shares a room with Taehyung just like in college because he always needs someone watching over him, especially at night. To be honest, the only reason he's still alive is because of his best friend; Jimin doesn't take his meds unless the latter forces him to. Jeongguk helps, too, when Taehyung isn't around.

His two roommates care about him a lot. More than he cares about himself. He doesn't get it.

They're at work today. Jimin doesn't have a job. He knows what a waste of space he is; his meds are expensive and he's putting himself and his friends in debt with his failed student loans and pricy medical bills.

He spends most of his time curled up in his bed, his spine pressed up against the wall next to him. Taehyung tries to get him up and outside. He tries getting him to eat, dance, do anything other than sitting in his bed all day waiting for the day where he just doesn't open his eyes in the morning. Yoongi and Hoseok even visit sometimes; not even then will he interact with them. The only one he even speaks to anymore is Taehyung; small requests like "water" and "bathroom" are hard enough for him to say.

Life is tiring.

As he stares at the ceiling, Jimin wonders what time it is. He lifts a dainty hand to take his phone from off the bedside table. The screen reads 2:34 p.m.

It also declares the date: December 27, 2020. Jimin hadn't even known.

Four years have felt like four minutes.

He feels his lungs cave as he sits up in bed, blinking his bloodshot eyes slowly. His finger brushes against something when he places his phone back on the table: the USB.

"Drifting."

Do it for him, Jimin forces himself to think. It's the anniversary.

The simple task of getting out of bed to retrieve Taehyung's laptop proves very difficult. He's lost so much weight over the years that he can hardly even recognize himself when he's met with his own face in the mirror. The detour to the bathroom makes his bare feet hurt; he never walks around this much.

The laptop is open to the public (which is really just the three roommates). Jimin lifts it in his slender arms and holds it close to him, taking the USB from his pants pocket and plugging it in, dreading the future.

A terrified reflection greets him when he opens the laptop to a blank screen. The USB turns out to be two audio files: one titled "to jimin (listen first)" and the other being "drifting." He clicks on the former, a little downcast because he was almost hoping to see Namjoon's face again, maybe this was just a mistake-

"I don't know when you'll hear this."

A voice, one that he almost let himself forget, burns his ears. Namjoon's deep, smooth voice is all he can hear; he has to pause the file as the tears spring to his eyes with just one sentence.

God, he hasn't cried in so long.

"I know it'll take you awhile," Namjoon says, laughing a bit, making Jimin cover his mouth to prevent himself from letting out a sob. "I got pretty good at reading your personality, believe it or not. I... I had to play dumb at the time, but I observed every little detail about you, Park Jimin. It sounds weird, huh? I know. I'm sorry."

Jimin feels the tears roll over his hand that he holds over his mouth.

"I never talked about my songwriting habits with you; I felt a little weird towards that part of me. With the help of Yoongi, though, I was able to get over that and start writing. My singing voice is a bit," Namjoon's voice pauses, thinking, "off. Never mind that. I wanted to write a song for you since the beginning, but..."

Jimin steels himself for what Namjoon's voice is going to say next, knowing it won't be as easy to hear.

"I saw it the night of the party at your apartment. It was the only time you didn't cover it; you didn't mind when I took your shirt off." The voice stops, coming back full-force with a sadder tone. "I know I shouldn't have looked. It was awful of me to take advantage of you like that. I'm so sorry, Jimin."

"No," Jimin cries at the sound of his name. Namjoon's voice saying his own name four years after he passed away. Jimin knows that he's speaking to a laptop as he presses his fingertips against the screen, but it helps.

"I knew I couldn't let you realize I saw it, so I pretended like everything was fine. It didn't seem real at first, really. Like some sort of joke. As you deteriorated, though, I knew it wasn't. I couldn't tell you what I wanted to, so I started writing," a laugh comes from the audio file, "and Yoongi wouldn't help me at first. He came around and now I have this song for you, Jimin. I... I really hope you like it."

He can't control his tears anymore. He's forced to increase the volume so he can hear it over his shuddering breaths.

"I guess this is when I say goodbye. I wish I could have said this to you sooner. I wish we could've spent a real long life together, but fate is cruel," Namjoon's voice gets quieter. "Goodbye, Jimin. I love you, and I always will."

The audio stops and Jimin lets the silent tears flow.

For a moment, he contemplates not opening the other file in fear of completely losing it; something like that happening when he's home alone is a recipe for disaster. But there's a reason for everything. At least, that's what Jimin believes.

So he opens the file, bracing himself.

Jimin almost instantly recognizes a bit of Yoongi's type of music in the background when the song starts. It's calm; a taste from the producer that he hadn't heard before. Most of Yoongi's music has a hard beat and loud rapping, but this is completely different.

The real surprise, though, is Namjoon's voice.

The softness of his rough voice takes Jimin aback; it's soulful, he thinks. This talent of his late soulmate's was hidden and now he can't understand why as the music fills him with endearment. He's overwhelmed with how much he misses Namjoon and he suddenly realizes what his plans for the day are.

The song ends and he's crying again, obviously. Namjoon wrote that all for him. For him.

The laptop is left, discarded, on the couch with the USB still plugged in.

Namjoon is buried in his hometown, Ilsan, Goyang. The bus ride doesn't take that long; he watches the snowy scenery and reminisces in a winter four years ago that was much warmer (metaphorically). Jimin stands silently in front of his gravestone (it's a little on the small side, he thinks), reading the print that's engraved there.

Kim Namjoon

9/12/94 - 12/27/16

"One never reaches home," she said. "But where paths that have an affinity for each other intersect, the whole world looks like home, for a time."
--Demian, Hermann Hesse

Jimin doesn't fully understand the quote very well. He thinks Namjoon would appreciate the philosophical meaning behind it. Nonetheless, he feels compelled to dig his face into his scarf even deeper to hide his wet eyes.

"I've never been here before, Namjoon. Your parents picked a nice spot, though," Jimin whispers, twisting the toe of his boot into the ground. "I've been a terrible lover to you, and for that I'm sorry. I want to make it up to you and I will, promise."

He bends down and releases the pink roses from his cold hands. They add a nice pop of color to the otherwise grim gravestone, and Jimin smiles sadly, knowing that Namjoon wouldn't want to rest in such a gloomy place.

"You told me never to forget you; I haven't. I think about you every day of my life and I've never stopped. Wherever you are, I hope it's better." Jimin sighs, his breath moving around his face and up into the air. "I miss you. I miss you like hell, and you probably miss me too. I hope that justifies what I'm going to do."

Jimin stands up, shoving his pink-tinted hands back into the pockets of his coat. "I can't survive like this. It just isn't living, Joonie," he says, knowing that not a single person is listening. No one who's alive, anyways; he hopes Namjoon hears.

If he doesn't, it's not a big deal.

Jimin will just tell him in person soon, anyways.

Taehyung is met with silence when he gets home from work, which isn't new, but the shock of black-orange hair (the orange is still fading) that sticks out from the doorway of the bathroom is. He notices the fallen body first; it's in juxtaposition with a bottle of alcohol and a spilled container of small, white pills.

His sobs echo around the small apartment and stay that way steadily until Jeongguk pries him away from the cold body of his best friend.

"Don't forget."

Jimin never did.