Chapter Text
NAMJOON
“Relax, will you?” Jin nudged Namjoon’s shoulder, but Namjoon just shrugged him away, staring down at the inside of his left wrist with startling intensity. “Staring at it isn’t going to make your mark show up any sooner, you know.”
“I know,” Namjoon snapped, looking away from his wrist long enough to roll his eyes at Jin. “I’m just excited.”
“Alright, alright,” Jin murmured, taking a long drink from his beer. “What time were you born again?”
“11:42,” Namjoon replied, his foot tapping relentlessly on the carpet in Jin’s living room. “I’ll officially be twenty in the next sixty seconds. Gah, I can’t believe it’s finally happening!”
Namjoon stood to his feet in a rush, running his hands through his messy brown hair with a semi-manic grin on his face.
“I can’t believe it, Jin. I’ve been waiting on this my whole life. What do you think her first words to me will be?”
“Probably something along the lines of ‘Wow, what a tall dork.’”
“Oh shut up.”
“Or more likely, “What’s the name of your wildly handsome friend?’”
“Screw you, Jin.”
“Add 'I want,' to the beginning of that sentence and you can bet that your soulmate will say that at some point — hey, ow, stop hitting me! Watch the face, watch the face!”
Namjoon huffed, hitting Jin in the shoulder one more time for good measure before flopping back onto his usual spot on the couch.
“You know I hate to break it to you, but getting prepared for your soulmark doesn’t give you an excuse to act like a psycho” Jin muttered, rubbing his sore shoulder from where Namjoon had knocked him to the ground.
“Oh like you didn’t get nervous about your soulmark?”
“Of course I did, but I didn’t hit my friends, in case you don’t recall.”
Namjoon huffed, closing his eyes and trying to focus on his breathing. Of course Jin hadn’t been worried when he got his soulmark on his twentieth birthday a few months prior. Jin was likable, had a stable job, was unreasonably handsome (and he knew it, too), and was honestly a total catch of a guy. Top of the line for sure. Which was why the mark on his wrist just said, ‘Wow.’
Namjoon on the other hand … wasn’t quite where he wanted to be for his soulmate just yet. A philosophy major with a steadily rising pile of student debt, a part-time job at a small cafe that barely paid rent, no long-term career prospects on his horizon, and not to mention he didn’t exactly find himself anywhere near the level of Kim Seokjin handsomeness, despite his friends telling him otherwise.
He simply didn’t find himself to be a catch the way that Jin was. And even though he hadn’t met his soulmate yet, he wanted to be great when he finally did meet them. But if he met them before getting his life together (whatever that even meant), there was no telling what your first words to him would be. And he was honestly scared to know.
“Hey. Hey. Namjoon!”
Namjoon startled back to reality, blinking up at Jin as he refocused. He’d been staring at the coffee table before him, lost in his thoughts.
“What?” he snapped. “I’m sorry alright, I shouldn’t have hit you, I know you’re sensitive and bruise like a peach.”
Jin made a strangled noise of objection. “I — Not true! I was just going to tell you to look at your wrist you idiot!”
“What, I — oh shit!”
Namjoon jumped up the second he spotted the black lines on his wrist. In the process, he slammed his knee into the coffee table, promptly losing his balance and toppling to the floor.
Jin’s laugh resounded through the apartment along with Namjoon’s curses and scrambling noises as he pulled himself to a sitting position on the floor and held his wrist right up to his face.
“Well?” Jin asked, gasping for breath as he spoke between chortles. “Was I right? Does your soulmate ask about me?”
“Woah, nice hair.”
“Well, I … yes, yes I know I have nice hair. But what’s your soulmark say?”
“No, you moron. It literally says, ‘woah, nice hair.’”
Jin was silent for a moment before snorting. Namjoon glared. “Sorry. It’s just … really? You?”
Namjoon self-consciously raised his non-marked hand to his hair when Jin looked up at the top of his head disbelievingly.
His hair wasn’t … bad, per se.
It was just … normal. Black, straight, mid-forehead length bangs. He’d never dyed it, so it was relatively healthy he guessed. Honestly, Namjoon had paid zero attention to his hair until that very moment.
And now, with 'Woah, nice hair,' staring back at him with no other context, Namjoon could think of absolutely nothing but his hair.
He looked up at Jin with such wild eyes that his roommate leaned away with quite the shocked face.
“I need you to book me an appointment with your hairstylist for tomorrow morning.”
***
“How much longer?” you whined, tapping your nails on the counter of your best friend's music shop that you spent far too much of your time in.
Yoongi huffed, pointedly ignoring you as he flipped through a box of the new records that had just come in.
“Five minutes less than the last time you asked me that, Y/N,” he said in his typical bored tone that you had learned not to take offense to. “Why don’t you just wear a watch?”
“I’m not going to cover up the spot where my soulmark is going to appear,” you scoffed.
Yoongi just raised his eyebrow at you. “You could always … I don’t know, wear a watch on your right wrist instead of your left?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Yoongs.” You ignored his protests as you hopped up onto the counter beside the register. “What do you think it’s going to say? You know I’ve been dreaming about this moment for the past twenty years,” you said with a wistful sigh.
“And did this dream involve you loitering in my shop during the exact moment you turn twenty years old?”
“No,” you shot back. “I never cared about the place I was at when my mark appears, I wasn’t one of those people that plans a party around it or anything. I just … I always tried to imagine what the words might be, you know?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi murmured, setting the box of records onto the ground and deciding to placate you, giving you his full attention. “I remember when mine showed up. I was pretty anxious, too.”
You smiled as you looked over at your best friend. Best friend and nothing more, because the words on his wrist were definitely not the first words you had ever said to him when the two of you had met a year and a half prior. The words on Yoongi’s wrist read, ‘I’ve actually never listened to Kanye West,’ whereas your first words to him had been, ‘Stop judging me for this Jonas Brothers album.’
Yoongi had yet to meet his soulmate, which was why he constantly found ways to casually bring up Kanye in discussion with most of the customers.
“Hey.” You reached over and shoved Yoongi lightly on the shoulder. “Your soulmate will show up soon. Right when you need them to.”
Yoongi’s smile was shy, but thankful.
“Hey, you know what else is showing up?”
“What?” you asked.
“Your soulmark. Look down, punk.”
With a start, you jumped off the counter and brought your wrist up to your face.
Sure enough … there it was. Your soulmark. The thing you had been waiting your whole life for, the thing you dreamed about, the very words that the person you were destined to be with would say to you.
“Well?” Yoongi asked, coming around the counter to stand in front of you, who was clearly speechless. “Come on, don't be quiet now. Tell me, what’s it say?”
“No.”
“Y/N, you’re seriously not going to tell me? I’ve listening to you rant about this moment since I met you, you can’t actually—”
“My soulmark says, ‘no,’ Yoongi. Just … ‘no.’”
“What?” Yoongi grabbed your wrist, pulling it away from your face to examine it himself. You let him, staring into empty space as your head filled with white noise. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “Ah Y/N, I’m so sorry.”
It was well known that the worst kind of soulmark you could get was a one-word mark. You’d heard countless horror stories of people constantly misidentifying their soulmate because their marks said something like ‘yes,’ ‘sure,’ ‘okay,’ ‘there,’ or in your case …
‘No.’
“Hey, don’t cry, it’s going to be okay.”
You let Yoongi pull you into a hug, and it was only then that you realized that there were silent tears running down your cheeks. This realization only led to you choking on a sob, clutching onto Yoongi’s leather jacket and burying your face in his neck.
“My stupid soulmate is going to be monosyllabic!” you cried.
“No he’s not, don’t be ridiculous,” Yoongi murmured, though not unkindly as he ran his hands over your hair.
“He’s going to hate me! I’ll probably speak to him first and he’ll realize I’m his soulmate and then look at me and just say, ‘no.’ I’m already being rejected!”
“Aish, relax, would you?” Yoongi pushed you back, hands resting on your shoulders. “You have absolutely no idea what context you’re going to meet your soulmate in. It could be anything, don’t set yourself up for failure just yet.”
You sniffled, running your hand across your cheeks to wipe away the tears.
“It was supposed to be something romantic,” you muttered. “Something like, ‘wow, look at you,’ or ‘I’m the luckiest guy in the world.’”
Yoongi laughed, embracing you once again and kissing the top of your head. “You might have set your standards kind of high there, kid.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“Look, you can’t let this control the rest of your life,” he said seriously, making sure you were looking him in the eye. “Your soulmate is not your identity. You’re still you, first and foremost. You're going to hear that word on your wrist all the time, but you just have to put it to the back of your mind. He’s your soulmate, you punk. If your mark makes it so hard to find him, then just trust him to find you.”
Yoongi’s words struck a cord in you.
He was right. You had spent so much time in your twenty years of life dreaming about your soulmate — ever since you had learned about soulmarks, really.
But you hadn’t spent much time dreaming about your own self. About who you could be.
Your soulmate was not your identity.
“You’re right,” you murmured, taken aback by the depth of what Yoongi had just shown you about yourself.
Yoongi seemed taken aback as well. “Damn. Can I get that in writing?”
“Oh hush.” You slapped at his chest, making him chuckle. “Really though, you’re completely right. I can’t let the mark control my life now. It’s not what I expected, sure, but … I’ll be fine. He’ll find me.”
You took a deep breath, nodding to yourself.
“He’ll find me.”
***
FIVE YEARS LATER
Namjoon strolled down the familiar city streets with a small, borderline mischievous smile on his face. A few men and women gave him a double-take, which only made his chest swell with pride.
It had been just over five years since his soulmark showed up, and honestly, it was the best thing that could have happened to him. Even though he had yet to meet the person he was destined to be with, the person who would say those three words on his wrist, the incentive that the mark gave him to do a total rehaul of his life had changed … everything.
The morning after his soulmark appeared, Namjoon had gone straight to Jin’s usual hairstylist. He didn’t know how he was going to meet his soulmate, but he did know that he was going to have damn good hair whenever it happened — good enough to make his soulmate say, ‘Woah, nice hair.’
The stylist had done his job well, giving Namjoon a fresh undercut and silver dye job. Namjoon had paid extra (which had been a struggle at the time, but worth it in the long run) for the stylist to teach him how to style his hair in all the latest male hair trends.
And somehow, just getting that fresh cut and learning how to properly coif his hair to show off his striking facial features gave him a new confidence he didn’t know was possible for someone like him.
That confidence had followed him into his small cafe job, where his renewed attitude had earned him significantly more tips, which allowed him to go on a proper shopping spree with his friend Hoseok and get clothes that showed off his quite admirable body.
(It's worth noting that Hoseok’s soulmark read, ‘Can you even breathe in those pants?’)
Suddenly, Namjoon realized that … he was attractive. Honestly he was fine as hell, and had been fine as hell even before the new hair and new clothes and new posture, but all of those added bonuses had certainly upped the ante.
This revelation brought Namjoon to his first officially published philosophy paper, which examined the correlation between inward confidence and outward societal beauty conventions. It wasn’t exactly a new topic in the philosophy world, but his take on it had been fresh enough to get him published in a journal.
Since then, he was on the rise. He had a killer job with a public relations company, helping rising businesses create professional and adequate vision statements — a job that made him plenty of money to maintain his new lifestyle.
Honestly, Namjoon felt like he had made it. All the things he was worried about leading up to the day he had received his soulmark had changed for the better. Except for actually meeting that soulmate, of course. But aside from that, Namjoon’s life was good.
And his hair was always immaculate.
Literally always.
Every. Single. Day.
He didn’t know when he was going to meet his soulmate, but he did know that any day his hair didn’t look great was a day that he wasn’t going to be meeting his soulmate.
So every single day he made sure to wake up with plenty of time to put every hair in place where it needed to be, shiny and styled up and away from his face in the sleekest quiff anyone had ever seen.
He changed his hair color relatively often as well, wanting to keep it fresh and interesting enough to invite his soulmate to comment on it. Some of his favorites had been the silver, the platinum blonde, and the lavender shades.
And he got plenty of compliments on his hair. Almost daily.
But no one had said the exact words, ‘Woah, nice hair,’ to him just yet.
So Namjoon made sure to keep his hair game strong. He didn’t care if Jin or Hoseok or any of his other friends teased him about his specific grooming habits, it gave him confidence and ensured that he at least could be meeting his soulmate that day.
Which was why on that beautiful, sunny morning in the city, Namjoon was heading to his personal stylist to get a trim and dye job. He visited Jimin every two weeks, and didn’t trust anyone else to touch his hair.
(Jimin’s soulmark read, ‘Stop right there.’ The hairstylist typically kept his mark covered with a thick bracelet, but Namjoon had caught sight of it once while Jimin had been washing his hands. He didn't ask.)
“Namjoon!” Jimin called out as Namjoon stepped through the door of his salon, the bell ringing above him. It was Sunday morning, and Jimin’s salon was usually closed at that time but he had accidentally overbooked for the Monday that Namjoon usually visited him, so decided to let him come in when the shop was empty. “Come on in, I’ve got everything prepped for you.”
“You’re … unusually chipper,” Namjoon noted, taking a seat in his usual chair.
Jimin just grinned, his eyes looking like crescent moons as he flicked his pink hair across his forehead. “I met my soulmate,” he said, his smile evident even in his voice.
“Really?” Namjoon exclaimed, his eyes flitting to Jimin’s wrist, which was intentionally exposed for once. “Tell me all about it!”
And Jimin did. Namjoon’s hair color at that moment was already platinum, so Jimin was able to put the dye straight in, working from the ends up to the roots. Namjoon listened quietly as Jimin detailed the pleasant surprise that was his soulmate meeting.
It only made Namjoon a little jealous that Jimin had his soulmate. It seemed like all of his friends were finding their destined person only for him to still be waiting — despite the fact that he put so much work into being prepared for their meeting.
First it was Jin a few months ago with his now-fiancee, and then Jungkook at the bar just last week. And Jungkook was only twenty-one! The little brat had had his mark for barely one full year and had already had met his soulmate.
And now Jimin, too? Namjoon was lonely. All of the success, the confidence in his looks, it was great and all, but what he wanted most was to share it with someone. To have someone that he connected with perfectly, the way the universe intended. He wanted his face to light up like Jimin’s was right then.
“Oh, sorry,” Jimin said suddenly as his phone rang right in the middle of his story about his soulmate photographing a puppy or … something. “I’ve got to take this, give me just one second.”
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”
Jimin pulled off his gloves and answered his cell, greeting his mother as he headed towards the door. The little bell over the salon door chimed as he stepped outside for some privacy.
Namjoon took a deep breath, running his hands over his face and glancing at himself in the mirror. He snorted, laughing at the sight of his normally perfect hair covered in thick, wet purple dye and sticking out in a bunch of crazy directions all over his head.
The price for beauty and all that.
“Hey!”
Namjoon looked up and out the glass door to see Jimin being shoved to the ground by a guy with a black mask on. The man grabbed Jimin’s phone straight from his hand and then took off in a sprint.
“Hey that’s my phone! Get back here!”
Namjoon jumped to his feet, tearing off the black cover keeping his clothes safe from the dye and running to the door. Jimin was already tearing down the street at full-speed, screaming for passerby to stop the thief that had just snatched his phone.
Namjoon flung open the door to run after his friend without a second thought, not even thinking to see if anyone was about to walk past.
The body he slammed into went careening to the ground with his entire weight on them as he and the stranger both fell to the sidewalk in a crashing heap.
***
You were late to work.
It was a common occurrence honestly, it shouldn’t have made you as anxious as it did considering that this happened at least once every two weeks. But Yoongi had been on edge lately ever since his soulmate had found out she was pregnant, so you didn’t want to give him any more reason to be testy with you.
It wasn’t like you tried to be late. You loved your job — opening the record store’s second location with Yoongi and his soulmate six months ago was one of the best things that had ever happened to you, but mornings were hard and you hated them.
You especially hated mornings where you woke up only to realize that you were out of coffee. Which meant your feet had been dragging extra slowly as you got ready and before you knew it you were fifteen minutes behind schedule.
The city was still new to you considering you only moved there seven months ago right before the record store’s new opening, and you typically stuck to the same route to work in order to avoid getting lost.
But running as late as you were that morning, you decided to put your faith and trust in Apple Maps and try a hopefully quicker way to the store.
You were staring down at your phone as you walked, paying close attention to the moving blue dot to make sure you were going the right way when it happened.
It was like being hit by a freaking train.
One second you were walking, cursing the universe for your lack of caffeine (which was all your fault, but blaming the universe was easier), and the next second you were being practically football tackled to the sidewalk.
All the breath was knocked out of you, your phone went flying off in some direction, and you were being crushed by a very large man. You wanted to curse or yell or something, but honestly at that point you were just … so done. So tired.
You flopped your head back onto the sidewalk and groaned, opening one eye to look up at the annoyingly large man who had just knocked you to the ground and was currently laying on top of you, staring down at you in shock.
And he looked … utterly ridiculous.
You couldn’t help the snort that came out of you as you looked up at his hair, which was covered in purple goop and sticking out in like a hundred directions.
You took note of the worried, open-mouthed expression on his face and that just made you laugh harder, because you immediately started likening him to a fish with funny purple scales. A cute fish, but … also a ridiculous looking fish.
“Woah,” you said with another snort, “nice hair.”
The man went rigid above you. His eyes widened and he threw himself off of you so fast he tripped himself up and sprawled out on his side on the sidewalk. That didn’t stop him from scrambling up to his feet as you groaned and propped yourself up on your elbows, eyeing him warily. Was he having a seizure or something?
“Dude, are you okay?” you asked, reaching over and grabbing your phone. You cursed under your breath when you saw that the screen was shattered. The man was still gaping at you, blinking rapidly.
“No.”
Your heart lurched at the simple word, but you shoved the feeling down easily — you'd had to deal with this almost every day after all. You heard the words on your wrist all the time, but had learned to push the excitement away since it had been five years and your actual soulmate had yet to say that word to you.
“Yeah you don’t really look alright,” you muttered, pushing yourself to stand. You brushed off your pants, ignoring weird-hair guy who was still staring at you. “I’m fine by the way, thanks for asking. You know, since you just shoved me to the ground and all?”
“No, no, this isn’t happening.”
“It’s fine, man. I mean this morning was already super sucky, so you know, this is kind of adding to that, but it’s cool. It’s not like—”
“No, no, this is not how we were supposed to meet,” he cut you off abruptly. “You’re telling me after all this time, all this work and — and that’s how you say the words?”
You froze.
He couldn’t possibly mean that he was …
You glanced down at his wrist. He followed your line of vision, slowly turning over his hand to show you his soulmark.
Woah, nice hair.
You blinked, looking from his mark to his face to his mark again to his wildly hilarious hair to his face again.
It didn’t take long for you to put two and two together. Clearly your soulmate had read your first words to him and as a result took the time and energy to always keep his hair fresh and up to date, only for you to say the words when he definitely didn’t have nice hair.
The thought made you want to laugh.
But you didn’t laugh. What you did do was reach out and pinch his arm as hard as you could.
“Ow!” your soulmate yelped, jumping back and clutching his quickly reddening skin. “What was that for?!”
“Do you have any idea how often people say ‘no’ to me?!” you shouted, holding your wrist up to your soulmate’s face. His eyes widened as he read the single word. “‘Hey, do you know where the restroom is?’ ‘No.’ ‘Does this store offer cash back?’ ‘No.’ ‘Am I at the right bus stop?’ ‘No.’ No, no, no, no!” You marched into your soulmate’s space, narrowing your eyes at him and pointing at his nose. “I’ll have you know, soulmate of mine, that you have made the past five years very, very stressful for me!”
He blinked a few times, clearly a little scared of you, but then came to his senses. “My name is Namjoon,” he snapped, pushing your finger away from his face. “And I’ve made your life stressful? Do you have any idea how much time and money I’ve put into my hair for five years? Only for you to say the words to this?” His voice was shrieky as he pointed at his wet, purple, spiky hair.
Namjoon, you thought to yourself. His name sounded … right. Which didn’t make any sense, but you blamed it on the whole two-parts-of-the-same-star-finding-one-another soulmate thing.
You blinked back to the matter at hand. Namjoon was still practically fuming as he pointed up at his hair, but you could tell by the flush of his cheeks that he was more embarrassed than anything.
“I …” You breathed out through your nose, collecting yourself. “You know, this is not how I always dreamed my soulmeet would go.”
Namjoon tensed up at the vulnerability in your voice.
“Ah shit,” he muttered, starting to run his hand through his hair like he always did when nervous, but caught himself at the last second. “I’m … I’m sorry. I — shit, I can’t believe this. You’re my soulmate and here I am yelling at you.”
“And tackling me to the ground, don’t forget about that.”
Namjoon winced. “Yeah … I’m sorry. My hairstylist, Jimin, he just got mugged and I was running out to go help and then you were there and I … yeah.”
“He was mugged?” you gasped. “It’s not even noon! Who gets mugged in broad daylight?!”
“That’s what I was thinking! I just looked over and he—”
“Namjoon!”
“Speak of the devil …”
Jimin was sweaty and out of breath as he ran up to you and Namjoon, phone in hand and a dopey, but exhausted smile on his face.
“I got him!” he exclaimed, holding up his phone and then promptly letting out a heavy whoosh of air and leaning over his knees. “Knocked over like five people in the process, but I got him.” He stood up straight, eyes wide as he finally took notice of you. “Oh, hello.”
“Hi,” you said awkwardly with a small wave.
“Oh,” Namjoon started. “Shit, sorry. Jimin this is …” he trailed off, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing even more red as he looked back at you. “I don’t even know your name, I’m so sorry. Shit I’m the worst soulmate ever.”
“This is your soulmate?” Jimin shrieked, looking back at you. “I was gone for five minutes!” He looked back at Namjoon, eyes flicking up to his hair, then to his wrist, then back to his hair.
It took about four seconds for Jimin to connect the dots and then promptly burst into laughter.
“Shut up!” Namjoon shouted, running his hands over his face. You couldn’t help but join in on the hairstylist’s cackling. “This is not the meetcute I was promised!”
“You’re telling me!” you said back to him. “If you think I’m going to let you live down tackling me to the ground for our soulmeet, you have a surprise future coming for you, Namjoon.”
Jimin didn’t even know the context of your words, but he doubled over in such raucous laughter he just flat out sat down on the sidewalk.
Namjoon huffed, watching as you continued to laugh with his friend at the situation. A strange sense of fondness swelled in his chest, and he finally took the time to really look at you.
Your smile was like Jimin’s — one of those that took over your whole face. And when you laughed, you placed your hand over your stomach as if to try and contain the giggles. You were dressed comfortably, and just from your short interaction with him he could tell that you were comfortable in your own skin — comfortable with yourself.
And yeah, you had been snappy with him. But not cruel. Teasing, not ridiculing.
And your words about a future with him … woah. It was really hitting him now.
This is my soulmate, he thought to himself. This is my person.
He soaked in the moment, setting aside his own embarrassment and allowing himself to really feel that this was a huge turning point in his life — the best turning point in his life.
You looked up at him then, still smiling and giggling as Jimin laughed at his friend’s predicament. Your smile made Namjoon’s heart stutter a beat.
He chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair.
Which led to him getting purple hair dye all over his palm and fingers.
“Ack!”
You burst into even more laughter at that.
Oh, your soulmate was going to be a good one.