Work Text:
Embedded in the skin of everyone’s left wrist is a step counter, the number of steps you have left until you meet your soulmate. Jungkook has covered his for years. He’d originally kept count himself, but, after a while, he lost count. Why does he cover it? Because his job forces him too, or, rather, that’s what he’s always made himself believe. He knows his soulmate won’t want him once they meet. It’s just simply a fact.
*****
When he was fifteen, his older brother had burst into his room in the middle of the night. “Hyung, what the hell?” He rubs his eyes blearily, squinting at his brother’s figure in the darkness.
Junghyun’s wild eyes meet his own. “Jungkook, I got myself into some deep shit. I need you to do something for me.”
“Can’t this wait until morning?”
“No, listen. Mom and Dad can’t know. This is fucking serious. I started selling shit for the mafia and had a bunch of buyers back out on me. Now they need me to do them a bunch of favors or they’ll kill all of us.”
“The mafia? What the hell are you talking about?”
His brother sighs, deep and heavy. He reaches up to run a hand through his own hair in frustration before he continues. “Kook, I’m sorry. Just listen to me, please. We’re all going to fucking die if we don’t do what they want.”
“Okay, well, what do they want?”
“They want a hitman.”
*****
For seven years now, Jungkook has been working as a hitman for the mafia. For the same amount of time, he’s been strapping a band over the writing on his wrist. He hasn’t even checked it in at least two years. Most people wait in eager anticipation to meet their soulmate. Jungkook, however, feels nothing but dread. He’s taken to ignoring the descending numbers on his wrist whenever they are visible. There’s no way his soulmate will want someone with as much blood on his hands as him.
He’s murdered countless numbers of people... all because his brother fucked up. In the beginning, he could’ve found some way to opt-out due to it initially being his brother’s mistake. He’s in far too deep now. If only he knew when their debts will finally be paid off.
His job has always been simple. A messenger from his higher-ups leaves a note with a name and an address once a week. There have never been any hiccups or threats to his own life. He carries out his duties and gets paid handsomely for keeping everything under wraps just as he was told to. He hopes the notes will one day come to an end, but there seems to be no escape in sight.
As expected, a call from the front desk alerts him of a package arriving for him. Right on time, as usual. He takes the elevator down and claims it from the receptionist, nodding his thanks. Once he’s back in the safety of his own space, he tears through the elaborate packaging to find a small slip of paper neatly placed on massive amounts of bubble wrap.
Park Jimin
10-31 Nonhyeon-dong, Gangnam-gu, Seoul, South Korea
Jungkook grabs his laptop off the coffee table in front of him, quickly turning it on and starting to research his target for tonight. It doesn’t take long for him to discover that Park Jimin is the eldest son of the CEO of Park Cosmetics, potential heir to the company as well. Lately, his targets have been relatives of those high up in the beauty industry. Funny that an industry centered around beauty has a lot of its people in dirty with the mob. Neglecting to pay your debts comes with a high price, as per usual.
*****
His target’s apartment is deep in the heart of Seoul, surrounded by several other similar high rise apartment buildings on every side. He slips through the unlocked entrance from the balcony, taking in his surroundings for a brief second. The wealth of the person residing here is obvious. A grandiose chandelier hangs over a dining table decorated with a lavish centerpiece. He’s undoubtedly found himself in a penthouse.
He keeps his steps light as he walks down a hallway lined with photos. Ignorance is bliss has always been his motto. If he simply refuses to look at the photos of the life of the man he’s here to kill, he doesn’t have to face the fact that the other people in those photos will have to deal with the unimaginable sadness of loss. This is his job, no matter how despicable it is.
A closed, bedroom door ends the hallway. Jungkook grips the doorknob tightly, careful not to make any noise as he gently swings it open. The room is dark except for a small nightlight plugged into an outlet near the bed. He only sees a mass of blonde hair resting against a pillow until he steps closer, making out more features of the man’s face such as his lips adorably pouted out in his sleep. His breath catches as he has a strange realization. The man in front of him is beautiful, ethereal even, and it’s difficult to end his staring. He takes one last step forward when a flash of pain shoots up from his left wrist through the rest of his arm.
“Ow, what the fuck?” He asks, caution thrown to the wind as his wrist begins to throb unbearably. He rips off the black glove covering his hand, his wristband following shortly after. A large zero sits in the center of his wrist, almost mocking him. Zero? That’s fucking impossible.
He hears a whimper of pain and the rustling sounds of the man in front of him stirring. “What the-” Jungkook watches frozen as the other man sits up in bed and blinks down sleepily at his own wrist. “Huh?”
This is the moment Jungkook has lived in fear of for years, and now it’s here. He feels blind-sighted, almost slapped in the face, as he stares unabashedly at the man in front of him… his soulmate. If only things were different.
“Something has to be wrong. This can’t say zero.” At that moment, the man, Jimin, finally looks up and takes notice of his presence. He screams, as expected, curling himself into a ball and bringing his bedsheets along with him. “Who… who are you? What are you doing here?”
Jungkook exhales, unaware that he’d been holding his breath in for so long. He has to answer, has to end this here. “I’m sorry, Jimin.”
“You know my name?”
Jungkook nods, feeling an overwhelming sadness crawl it’s way into his heart. He pushes the feeling away, forcing himself to focus. “I really wish things were different.”
“W… What do you mean?” Jimin’s gaze falls to the younger’s exposed wrist. “Does yours say zero too?”
He lifts his wrist for Jimin to see, not wanting to lie to the person he was meant to spend his whole life with. He doesn’t know the man in front of him at all, though he feels a longing urge to change that, he can’t. In another life, he would love nothing more than to find out everything about the beautiful man in front of him, maybe even fall in love with him, but their reality is not as hopeful as his imagination would like it to be.
“So we’re… soulmates.”
Jungkook sighs, long and heavy. He knows what he has to do, no matter how much his heart is screaming at him to not. “I’m sorry, Jimin.” His hand finds the gun strapped to his belt. If only love was as beautiful as it promised to be.