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Being a royal didn’t exempt Jungkook from the grips of fate and soulmates.
As a prince, he had been given the ins-and-outs of soulmating at a young age; when one turns eighteen, the name of their soulmate would appear on their wrist in distinct black letters. The mark wouldn’t be complete until the pair meet, becoming filled in with an array of colors that somehow matches said soulmate’s personality when the two first touch skin to skin.
As a prince, he was also taught to be skeptical of people. To avoid any chances of people pursuing him with fake marks of his name in vivid color all in the name of scamming their way into the royal family, the only people aware of Jungkook’s birth name were his parents and his older brother, Namjoon.
Jungkook remembers watching his brother grow up the same way—Namjoon was simply referred to with formalities until a month after his eighteenth birthday, when he had already managed to find his soulmate and no longer ran the risk of any fakes somehow successfully trying to worm their way into their circles. After giving the couple some time to themselves, news of the first-born Prince’s birth name was on the cover of every paper the village had to offer.
His brother had been lucky; his soulmate turned out to be someone else raised in nobility, a prince hailing from a neighboring country named Seokjin. The two ran into each other at the ball every royal’s parents hold after their eighteenth in efforts to find their child’s soulmate. They had a very unpredictable success rate, obviously, and Namjoon had to join hands with a hundred hopeful faces before finally reaching Seokjin.
At that time, Jungkook was only fifteen and very, very curious as to how meeting one’s soulmate went. He wanted to know if you could just look at someone and know, if the first touch felt as impossibly wonderful as he imagined, if the world slowed and it felt as if it was only the two of you in a crowded room as all of his books described.
As someone who had been idolizing his brother since he could remember, he considered Namjoon’s answers to his questions the most precious.
“When I touched Seokjin’s hand,” Namjoon began, fondness spreading through his smile, his face, his voice, “I felt like I was truly alive for the first time.”
The words struck something in Jungkook, a newfound excitement about finding his soulmate budding inside of him.
They replayed in his head often over the next three years—the night when Namjoon giddily told him that he and Seokjin exchanged I love you’s for the first time, at their wedding a year later, the dinner when the two of them asked their family if anyone had any opinions on them adopting. It was every bit of fairy tale romance Jungkook hoped to find with his own soulmate.
The night of his eighteenth, sleep evaded him. His mother advised him to get as much rest as he could with a knowing look, one that said she knew he would be planning to stay awake well into the next morning waiting for his mark to appear. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of his wrist for even a second. His schedule was clear for the next day in honor of this specific moment anyway; what harm would staying up do?
The anxiety was killing him. What if he ended up in one of those cases where there was a large age difference between soulmates? What if his soulmate wasn’t even of age yet, and therefore couldn’t know Jungkook was their other half for who knows how long? What if his soulmate was roaming the streets of another kingdom so far away it would take an entire week to get there?
For hours, he sat in his bed underneath silk sheets with his eyes trained on his upturned wrist as if the answers would all appear at any second. His parents were fond of the phrase “A watched kettle never boils,” and Jungkook had never hated the words as much as he did now. No amount of wishing and willing the name of the person he should spend the rest of his life with to appear made it come any faster.
He frowns at the blank expanse of skin, his eyes slipping closed as the fatigue finally caught up to him. When he finally came to, it was bright outside and he assumed it was nearing noon due to the sun’s position.
He squinted at the light, yawning to regain his bearings as he turned onto his side. It took a moment for his mind to get with the program, but as soon as he remembered what today was, he was scrambling to throw his blanket off of himself and bring his right wrist to eye level.
It was there.
His soulmate mark was there.
With a touch so gentle he could barely feel it, as if rubbing it too hard would make the words miraculously disappear, Jungkook ran his fingers over the name of his soulmate for the first time.
In elegant, opaque lettering was the name Kim Taehyung.
Jungkook fell in love with the name, finding it to be the most beautiful one he had ever heard of upon first glance. Kim Taehyung. He read the words once, twice more before finally testing how they would feel coming off of his tongue. “Kim Taehyung,” he said, voice low, and immediately smiled at the sound. His heart even seemed to skip a beat.
He spent long minutes doing nothing but staring at the thing he had been dreaming of for years now, almost unable to believe it was finally there. He finally had a clue as to his soulmate was and they had the most wonderful name Jungkook could imagine.
A knock to his chambers interrupted his train of thought; he sat up as fast as possible with his wrist tucked under his leg as if it were a secret, not wanting to let just anyone walk into this special moment.
“Brother?” comes Namjoon’s voice; Jungkook immediately stands up, glad it’s his brother at the door so he can tell someone about his wonderful news. “Are you awake?”
Instead of answering, Jungkook stalks toward the door without a care that he’s still in his sleepwear and flings it open. “It came,” he says before anything else, voice a few octaves higher than normal. “My mark, it’s here.”
He watches Namjoon’s face light up, stepping into Jungkook’s room and closing the door behind him. “Good morning to you, too. Or afternoon.” He nods toward the window. “Stay up all night waiting for your mark, hmm?”
“I did,” Jungkook admits without a hint of regret tainting his tone. “I fell asleep at some point, but then when I woke up—it was just there. I have a soulmate mark.”
Namjoon chuckles. “As expected,” he responds, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Jungkook expectantly. “Who’s the lucky person?”
Caressing his own wrist as if it were a family heirloom, he presents the skin to his brother. “Kim Taehyung,” he says, the words sounding every bit as pretty as they did the first time he said them. “My soulmate is Kim Taehyung.”
Namjoon hums. “We both managed a Kim, hmm? A common name, but I’m sure we can find them just as well.” He smiles. “I don’t believe Seokjin has any siblings, but I can always ask to make sure. If you’re okay with him knowing your soulmate’s name, that is.”
“Of course. I want to meet them, my soulmate, whatever helps,” he says, butterflies in his stomach. “I’m so glad I don’t have to wait any longer.”
“This doesn’t mean you won’t have to,” Namjoon interjects matter-of-factly. “I was lucky enough to find Seokjin at the ball for my eighteenth, but that doesn’t mean you will be, too. I don’t want you to go out of your mind trying to find them—”
“This is my soulmate,” Jungkook stresses. “You remember how it felt when you got your mark, don’t you?”
“I do.” Namjoon nods. “But I had to keep calm then and stick with my duties just as you will now. Your ball is tomorrow night, surely you can at least hold on until then?”
Staring at his mark and suppressing every urge to just run past his brother without a regard for his indecency to find the other half of his entire being, he sighs and nods his head. He’s a prince, he can’t embark on a journey to find his soulmate just because he’s impatient when he has rules to abide by and an example to set. He looks up to his brother. “I can.”
Namjoon smiles. “Good. Now, get dressed and come down for lunch, please. I’m sure mother and father will be thrilled about the news.”
~~~
His parents congratulate him over their meal, mumbling about how lovely of a name Taehyung was and remarking on how they’re pretty sure they’ve heard it once or twice in passing at a few gatherings; Jungkook can barely contain himself at the information. Does this mean his soulmate frequents social events? He kind of hopes not. He’s not one for too much socializing, finds it redundant and draining, wouldn’t bother showing up to half the things he does if he didn’t have an obligation.
He smiles, then. His soulmate is made to be his perfect match, so maybe they feel the same way about the things they attend. It could work out; Jungkook would have someone who understands at his side so they could keep each other sane during every event he’s forced to be a presence at.
Or maybe, his soulmate is a social butterfly, one who could make up for his lack of people skills.
Maybe his soulmate isn’t meant to match him, but complete him.
That thought recurs in his mind and keeps him from standing still during his fitting for the suit he’ll wear to the ball; his tailor is sighing, narrowly missing Jungkook’s hips with his needle as he works. “Prince, if you keep moving, you’ll not only have an ill-fitting suit but a bloody thigh as well. So please, keep still.”
Jungkook sighs, shaking his head as he looks down. “I’m sorry, Hoseok. I feel like I could jump out of my skin.”
At this, Hoseok sighs and sets his tools down, gesturing that Jungkook can relax his body. “We both need a quick break. You need to calm down, and I don’t want to yell at you on your big day,” he whispers, the words sounding anything but threatening with the smile Hoseok is sporting. “Are the nerves getting to you, Sire?”
“A bit,” Jungkook admits. “I’m mostly excited, though. I could have my soulmate by the end of the night.”
“That you could.” Hoseok tilts his head. “There’s no chance I could know their name, is there?”
Jungkook cradles his concealed wrist to his chest. Hoseok is someone on their staff that he trusts without a shadow of a doubt, but this goes further than any kind of friendly bond. “I’m sorry,” he says, trying to keep his tone tame, “but I want them to be the first outside of my family to know what my wrist says.”
“I understand.” Hoseok nods. “My closest friend has had his mark for two years now and I still don’t know what it says.” He grins. “He gave a similar reason to yours.”
Jungkook hums, shaking his head. “I couldn’t imagine waiting two entire years for my soulmate. I’ve only been waiting a day and already it feels like an eternity.”
Hoseok shrugs. “I suppose I would gladly wait as long for a person who I’m meant to have forever with.”
Fingers rubbing over the mark underneath the broad bracelet around his wrist, Jungkook grins. “I haven’t stopped to think of it that way.”
“I’ve had a long time to figure it out, Prince,” Hoseok says, fingers wrapped around his own mark that has yet to have its colors filled. They sit like that for a moment longer before he picks up his needle and thread once again. “Alright. We don’t have much time, so back to business. No squirming now, please.”
Jungkook rises to his feet, the name Kim Taehyung consuming his mind as he does his best to keep his body still.
~~~
“We would like to thank you all for coming out to celebrate our youngest son’s eighteenth birthday and subsequent soulmate marking,” his father speaks to the room at large, its inhabitants listening intently, “We understand our kingdom is a long journey for some of you, but your presence tonight means a lot to myself, my family, and my son. Now,” he pauses to smile, “as I’m sure you’re all eager to begin the night’s festivities, let us raise our glasses in a toast to our Prince and wish him well in his pursuit of his soulmate!”
There’s a chorus of cheers and clinking glasses before the room slowly erupts into mindless chatter. Jungkook is at the head of the room, his parents to his right while Namjoon and Seokjin sit to his left. He surveys the crowd with an intense gaze, one he imagines a bear would use when it targets its prey. Jungkook, however, is not looking to be a predator.
Many people he assumes to be in his age range are staring at him shamelessly, and Jungkook has no doubt that they’re wondering the same things he is; is that my soulmate? Is their name the one permanently etched onto my skin?
There’s a sort of protocol for these events; a royal cannot simply call out the name of his soulmate as this would simply lead to a mess of liars to sort through swearing they were the one the prince was looking for despite what their own wrist may or may not say. He couldn’t send servants to check every singles wrist for his name because it was the biggest faux pas one could commit in a room full of nobility, plus the only ones who would know what to look for were his family plus Seokjin (who, no, did not have any known siblings or relatives named Taehyung and he’s very sorry). That left his options down to one; graciously take the hand of every single in the room that offered and hope their touch colored in his mark and gave him the apparent life-fulfilling feeling Namjoon had described.
He stayed in his seat for the first hour; as the center of the ball, it was customary to let himself be approached by anyone who had a chance at being his soulmate, or people who simply wanted to offer their congratulations. He painted on a smile as he tried not to slouch in his seat, attempting to appear as proper as he possibly could. However, having as little patience as he already did, it didn’t take very long for him to request a quick break to the facilities from his father, who nodded his head silently.
Jungkook snuck off with his head down to avoid any unnecessary conversations, making his way to the restroom on quick feet. Once he had his privacy, he let his face fall into his hands and groaned.
Because this was supposed to be a magical night, the one that lead him to his soulmate so he could figure out the colors that match the personality of his Taehyung, then become more acquainted with each other by filling the night with endless conversation and innocent touches, maybe even a kiss, so he could leave this pointless party behind and get started on the forever they have to look forward to.
But every single time someone approached him with an outstretched hand, Jungkook could already tell they weren’t the one for him after one look. He didn’t know how to explain it other than a gut feeling and thus far it hadn’t been proven wrong, but he still accepted with a courteous smile each time and tried not to frown at the disappointment each face would adorn when nothing happened.
He was discouraged, but the night wasn’t over yet, and the hope that he just hadn’t found his soulmate yet kept him from sneaking away from his own party. Instead, he splashed his face with some cool water and made his way back out to the crowd.
Only to bump into a tray of finger foods and knock all of its contents to the ground. Perfect.
“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook apologizes, looking at the mess of foods on the floor and the hands picking them up with a frown. “I can call for someone to clean it up. It isn’t your fault; you don’t have to clean my mess.”
“It’s fine,” comes a voice so deliciously low and smooth that Jungkook almost jumps. “There’s no need in calling any maids. The pastries are my responsibility, there’s no reason that doesn’t include cleaning them up.”
“Please,” Jungkook pleads, but the servant continues picking up crumbs in spite of him. Sighing, Jungkook lowers himself to the ground and grabs what the other’s hands can’t reach.
“Prince, don’t!” The boy says, shaking his head. “I will receive a scolding and a half if anyone were to see you picking up after me.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I’ll stop if you will.”
He watches as the hand slowly retracts itself back to its owner’s body and the servant moves to stand up. Jungkook smiles as he lifts his head to finally meet the boy’s eyes from his position on the ground, and when he does—
The boy is beautiful. So beautiful that the single word doesn’t do him justice; his hair falls in dark tresses that are just long enough to frame his face, a set of warm, almond eyes peeking out from between the strands. His lips are deliciously pink and look cushiony in a way that makes Jungkook want to press his own against them just to test their softness, his nose just as endearingly adorable.
This is it. This is Kim Taehyung, Jungkook is sure of it.
Without a second thought, Jungkook reaches for the boy’s wrist, only to latch onto the sleeve of his shirt before the boy jerks his hand away. “Hey! Just because you’re royalty doesn’t mean you can go uncovering whoever’s mark you so desire—”
“Taehyung,” Jungkook interrupts, watching as the boy suddenly cuts off his words to simply stare at him. “Your name is Kim Taehyung, yes?”
The boy doesn’t move or speak. Jungkook sees the thoughts running rampant in his mind and doesn’t want to possibly chance this boy—his soulmate, he just knows—walking away from him.
“I’ll show you my mark if you’ll show me yours,” he tries, desperate. “I’m sorry for not asking, I would never typically do something so… so invasive but—”
“Fine.”
Jungkook pauses. “Fine?”
“Show me your mark, Prince,” the boy says with a raised brow. “Show me your mark and I’ll consider baring my wrist.”
Jungkook scrambles to his feet. This is his chance. “Yes, of course,” he says, reaching for the clasp for his bracelet and letting it slide off to reveal his mark, the words Kim Taehyung getting him almost as excited as they had upon his first time seeing them. He smiles at the sight fondly, rubbing the skin over in search of comfort before looking up to once again meet this boy’s inviting eyes.
His plush lips fall open as he rakes his gaze over Jungkook’s wrist. He furrows his brows and Jungkook catches him rubbing shyly at his own wrist involuntarily. He can’t help but soften at the boy’s ticks, already feeling so infatuated with him that it’s crazy.
“How about a better deal?” he mumbles, keeping his arm out in the open. “You don’t have to show me your mark if you’ll touch mine.”
At this, the boy falters. Jungkook is endeared by the way his face sets as he thinks it over. Ultimately, he must decide he has nothing to lose and nods his head. “Okay.”
Corners of his own lips tugged up into a smile, he pushes his wrist toward the boy impatiently. “Go on.”
Slender, nervous fingers rise steadily, slowly until they’re on the same level as Jungkook’s exposed wrist. Jungkook fights the urge to just press this boy’s hand to his skin himself and chews his lip in anticipation. He decides that if this truly is his soulmate as he’s so sure it is, they’ll have the rest of their lives together so he doesn’t need to push him no matter how badly he wants to.
Gingerly, the first foreign touch to Jungkook’s soulmate mark comes and Jungkook feels electricity coursing through his veins as soon as their skin meets. The touch from this boy—Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, his soulmate—feels so mind-numbingly spectacular that Jungkook doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to spend a second more of his life not holding onto him. A beautiful selection of bright blues and purples and whites pigment his skin around the name, leaving a tingly feeling in its wake.
The only thing able to tear him from his thoughts is the gasp he hears Taehyung let out; at the sound, Jungkook becomes alert, meeting his soulmate’s gaze that has somehow gotten even sweeter. He directs his own eyes toward Taehyung’s wrist, gently grasping his arm in his own shaky hands before slowly peeling back his sleeve.
He didn’t think the sight of his own name on someone else’s skin would affect him as much as it is now—Jeon Jungkook. Surrounded in greens and yellows with hints of blue along the edges is the mark that matches his own.
Grinning, Jungkook brings his own marked wrist to rest next to Taehyung’s. He doesn’t think there’s ever been a more beautiful sight than the two of them together.
“Taehyung,” Jungkook begins, unsure of whether he means it as an introduction or an indisputable fact, but knowing he couldn’t stand the idea of silence any longer.
“You’re Jeon Jungkook,” Taehyung says belatedly; Jungkook has never heard his name spoken so beautifully. “The Prince’s name is Jungkook. My soulmate is the Prince.”
Jungkook can’t help but feel a surge of fondness creep up and make itself known by the smile on his face. “My soulmate is the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.”
At this, Taehyung’s cheeks color a delightful shade of pink that Jungkook wants to make appear as often as he possibly can. Taehyung lets his head drop, eyes glued to the floor. “Don’t flatter me, Prince.”
Jungkook doesn’t waste a second before he grabs Taehyung’s hand in his own, skimming his thumb over the back of his palm. “I’ve spent my entire life being called Prince, and there’s no one I want to call me by my birth name more than you,” he says gently as to not intimidate Taehyung any further, “You more than deserve the compliments, too.”
A smile finds its way onto Taehyung’s face. “I’m sorry, Jungkook,” he apologizes, “but I was supposed to have these in the main room ages ago and I’d rather not upset your guests—”
“They’ll understand,” Jungkook interjects. “You don’t have to worry about the ball anymore. Neither of us does.” He puts on the smile his mother has always told him was his most charming, trying to keep his countenance more on the edge of inviting than pushy. “I would love to spend the rest of tonight getting to know you, Taehyung. If that’s something you’re interested in.”
There’s a pause, Taehyung thinking it over for long enough that Jungkook worries he’s scaring his own soulmate off. He scrapes his mind for some way to stop frightening him and maybe apologize for being so forward, but before he can think too deeply, Taehyung is interlocking their fingers and nodding his head with a bright, boxy smile. “I would love to.”
Jungkook grins, the sight of his and his soulmate’s hands intertwined enough to make his heart flutter all over again.