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Jeongguk is about 90% sure that he doesn’t have a soulmate, but honestly, he has no way of really knowing.
He lives in a world where soulmates share each other’s pain, and as fine and dandy that is for knowing if they exist in the first place and finding them by slapping your own wrist or something similar and looking for a reaction, Jeongguk has literally no idea if he has a soulmate because every damn injury he’s ever gotten can likely trace back to the same source: hockey. He loves hockey, he really does; he’s been playing since he knew how to walk, addicted to flying down the rink with a stick in his hands, slamming the puck into the goal whenever he gets an opening. But with the game comes the fights, and Jeongguk finds himself slammed up against the glass at least once or twice per game; usually way more than that.
Even with the scrapes and bruises and many sore muscles after long, grueling practices and intense games, Jeongguk loves it. Loves it so much that he gets better and better at it until a letter from the NHL is in his hands, announcing that the New York Cyclones want to sign him onto their team to play center. Only seventeen and going big leagues -- Jeongguk was over the moon.
But with the big leagues comes the travelling, the bigger fights, and harder training. Jeongguk is easily the youngest member of the team -- the teammate closest to his age is Taehyung, a twenty year old defenseman, and he and his soulmate Jimin had sort of adopted Jeongguk when he began playing with the team, bugging him about homework and friends and staying healthy and whatnot. It was nice, having friends; especially one that is willing to skate around at high speeds for fun and practice body checking opponents into the glass, even though Jimin lectures them both for it later with bruises identical to Taehyung’s littering his body.
But the bruises and the scrapes make it impossible for Jeongguk to know if injuries are his or his soulmate’s. For all he knows, they’re all his, and he doesn’t have a soulmate. As long as he can remember, he’s only ever gotten injuries from hockey, and with the sheer amount of them, part of him hopes he doesn’t have a soulmate so someone won’t be in a constant state of pain if their pain threshold is lower than Jeongguk’s. But he also really wants a soulmate -- someone made to mesh perfectly with him, someone who can make him happy and help him grow and vice versa.
Jeongguk shoves his earbuds in, cranking up the volume of rap group CYPHER’s latest single, Jump. They’re a relatively new group - beginning to release music a few months before Jeongguk’s letter from the NHL - but Jeongguk loves them. Their youngest member, RM, was his initial gay awakening; he’s never before seen a man like that and it made him realize that shit, guys are pretty fucking attractive. But Suga has more appeal to him now, a year and a half later, with his flow and genius lyrics.
He’s got about three hours before he has to be at the rink to warm up for the game, an away game being played in Los Angeles, against the Knights. They’re a relatively new team but a good one, and Jeongguk can already feel nerves biting at his insides as he pulls on his shoes and grabs his wallet, leaving the hotel room he shares with Taehyung and Seokjin.
Pressing the button for the elevator, Jeongguk bounces on his heels, nerves crackling through his veins. Walking around the city will make him feel better, get him loosened up for the game. And he really wants to see the city, explore a bit but not too much so that he can get back to the hotel and join the team on the bus ride to the arena.
The elevator comes quickly, and Jeongguk grins when he sees that it’s empty. He presses the button for the lobby and leans back against the wall, the song pounding in his ears melting into the next one. Jeongguk hums, thinking for a moment, and smiles when he realizes that the song playing is one of RM’s solo songs, Joke.
The song lasts as Jeongguk gets off the elevator and leaves the lobby, glancing left and right before deciding to go right and circle back in an hour or so. That’s more than enough time for him to burn some of the nerves rushing through him, being himself down to earth so that he can play well.
Jeongguk isn’t really paying attention to where he’s going, humming along to the song in his ears, occasionally glancing around to look at what the city has to offer. And it’s because he’s not paying attention that he slams into someone, who falls to the ground with a shout of surprise.
Eyes widening, Jeongguk rips out his earbuds to help, and then hesitates. His palms sting, and so does his backside, but he’s the one standing while the stranger is on the ground. Blinking in shock, Jeongguk looks from the unscathed palm of his hand to the man before him, who raises an eyebrow as he pushes himself to his feet.
“Are you my soulmate?” Jeongguk blurts out, and the man’s eyebrow climbs higher, the bottom half of his face hidden with a face mask. Jeongguk wavers on the edge of doing something for a moment before he pinches the inside of his forearm, and sees the flash of pain mirrored in the stranger’s eyes. They stare at each other in dumbfounded shock for a few moments, before the stranger’s eyes harden, and suddenly a palm is striking across Jeongguk’s face.
“Ow!” Jeongguk yelps, and the stranger makes the same wounded noise. Jeongguk turns and stares at the man with an unimpressed look.
“You did not think that through,” Jeongguk states, and the man sighs, his shoulders slumping.
“I did not,” he replies, and Jeongguk’s eyes widen. The stranger’s voice is deep and raspy, and he thinks that he could listen to the man talk for hours.
“But that was for the thousands of bruises you’ve given me,” the man continues, glaring at Jeongguk, but Jeongguk can see a lighter emotion flaring in the man’s eyes, one of curiosity and hope.
“That’s fair,” Jeongguk admits with a laugh before he holds out his hand. “My name’s Jeon Jeongguk. I’m 20, and I play hockey for the Cyclones.”
The stranger’s eyes hold surprise and a strange flare of pride, and then he reaches out and takes Jeongguk’s extended hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Min Yoongi, 23, and I rap in a group called CYPHER.”
Jeongguk freezes. Blinking a few times, he stares at Yoongi, hand loosely gripped with one of his favorite rappers. His soulmate is Suga. His soulmate is Suga.
“My soulmate is Suga,” Jeongguk breathes after a moment, and Yoongi’s eyes widen a fraction.
“You know CYPHER,” Yoongi says after a moment of silence, and Jeongguk nods, staring blankly at Suga - his soulmate - in awe.
“Yeah, I know CYPHER,” Jeongguk replies, a blush creeping up his cheeks when he realizes he’s acting like a crazy fan in front of his soulmate. His famous soulmate. He must have done something extremely fucking amazing in a past life for this to happen.
“Well, I suppose that makes this a little easier,” Yoongi says as his eyes crinkle with a smile. “Want to grab coffee or something and chat?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk agrees immediately, finally removing his hand from Yoongi’s. “Yeah. Yes. That would be nice.”
“Cool,” Yoongi says, carefully tugging the face mask to rest below his chin, and fuck, he’s pretty. Yoongi’s lips twitch into a smile, and Jeongguk knows right then and there that he is definitely, 100%, totally fucked.
“Let’s go then, shall we?”
Jeongguk nods, still in a daze, and follows Suga - Yoongi - his soulmate with a dopey grin on his face, excited to get to know his soulmate and see what’s to come for them.