Work Text:
김남준
Namjoon hadn’t given his soulmate any thought in a long time. Before, when he had been a teenager, thoughts about his soulmate had frequently occupied his mind as he imagined what they would look like, how they would meet and what kind of vision he would have then. Especially when he had his first crush on Kihyun – bringing with it the epiphany that he was very much into guys – he had laid awake at night more often than he would care to admit, trying to imagine the two of them together, trying to visualize that they were actually bound by a cosmic power, that they were one star, one soul, divided into two bodies but only complete when they were together. It had been easier to cope with the fact that Kihyun was most likely not his soulmate after he had overheard the other one being a total jerk towards the cleaning lady at their school though.
More often than one might think, he had laid awake at night and wondered how he had ended up in this universe – how, of all the possibilities out there, he had ended up exactly here: In this bed, pondering, while somewhere out in the depths of this world, maybe on another continent or maybe just next door, his soulmate was there as well, existing, possibly thinking about him right in this moment as well. Soulmates – quite a peculiar concept, getting stranger and weirder the more you think about it. He loves listening to his parents telling them in great detail how they came to know that they are soulmates, which they always tell so vividly, so excitedly that it makes you believe that true love can actually conquer all. Even though the experiences he made have since dampened his initial optimism, he still thinks fondly of how his mother’s eyes sparkle when she talks about her big revelation, finally admitting to herself that she was in love with his father. How this revelation struck her just the day before he was about to leave for his military service. How they reached out to hold hands on the train platform when she had her vision. Namjoon always tends to just smile when his father interjects that he had his vision way earlier because he was not as stubborn and had actually realized how much they mean to each other weeks before.
His imagination had always run wild when it came to the vision he might have – would it be one of him and his soulmate in one of their earliest reincarnations, centuries ago, as farmers on their own land? Would it be them as scholars inventing something great, like a printing machine or maybe electricity? Would it be them fighting in a world war? Or would it be them in the future, meeting on a spaceship? To think that their souls had lived through all of that – or would live through all those lives … compared to the infinity of his soul, all other struggles seemed minuscule, like a drop of water in the ocean.
His sister loves to read all kinds of romance novels, her favourites being soulmate stories with other concepts, like red strings of fate, timers on wrists or tattoos with your soulmate’s name. They used to play book club together – just the two of them, building a pillow fort they could comfortably hide in, telling each other about their latest book discovery. This was when they also talked about soulmates, talked about different concepts, about love, about how cool soulmate visions were, about how inconvenient they could also be. Sometimes, they invented stories of other universes, universe in which one would meet their soulmate through a red string or by another completely absurd mechanism and then they would debate in how far this other concept was much more unfortunate and lame compared to soulmate visions. Sometimes, they invented stories with soulmate concepts that they liked better and then they would talk about how weird soulmate visions were and how difficult finding your soulmate could actually be in real life because of them. They continued their book club tradition just until he moved to the dorms and he made sure to tell his sister how much he misses their book chats every single time they meet. Then again – they could just build a pillow fort now as well. Stop adulting for a minute and pretend that the biggest worry in the world was to not spill his tea onto their favourite pillow.
Alongside BTS’s fame, his worries have grown as well over the past years. He feels a responsibility for his group members like a weighted blanket sometimes, weighing him down until he can’t breathe anymore. Thoughts of soulmates have barely had any space in recent years – sometimes, he is glad he hasn’t found them yet. Glad he hasn’t fallen in love and seen the vision indicating that this love is part of something bigger, something eternal. Bringing another person into this mess, into this whirlwind of fame, expectations, pressure, media hype and their schedule – he is not sure he could do that to anyone, could be responsible for watching his soulmate struggle with all the restrictions they would have to work around.
“Okay, that’s enough for today”, he sighs quietly into the empty room. Talking to himself while working is a habit he has embraced long ago and one he probably won’t get rid of anytime soon. Namjoon shuts down his computer, grabs his wallet and walks out of his studio. He closes the door just to open it again, walking inside to grab his phone that he forgot on the coffee table. It’s quiet in the Big Hit building as it is late even for their standards. Many of the producers and dancers as well are night owls, preferring to work late into the evenings, when the sun has already cast its last shadow. More often than not, Namjoon leaves the studio just as most of his group mates start to get productive.
This is why he is not surprised to see the door to Yoongi’s studio illuminated in a soft glow, indicating that the other is still thinking hard behind the blurred glass door. Walking past, Namjoon can feel the heavy bass line thrumming through his bones. His steps slow down without him being aware of it and he doesn’t really realise that he has turned around and knocked on the door until it swings open.
Namjoon is still processing the fact that he knocked, so he appreciates that Yoongi immediately turns around to slump down in his chair again. At least now he doesn’t have to come up with a greeting or an explanation of what he actually wants here.
It’s not like he needs an explanation anyways. This studio is as much home to him as his own because Yoongi is home. Years and years of knowing each other, living together, creating art together, fighting and talking and just being. They are as comfortable around each other as one can be around another human being and Namjoon would never want to trade anyone of their group for something or someone else.
As soon as he plops down, Yoongi plays him a beat he has been working on. It’s good, and he tells him as much.
“I’m not really sure if the lyrics fit though”, Yoongi murmurs, tracing his lips with his finger, swinging from left to right in his desk chair.
“What have you written so far?”, Namjoon asks. He listens intently as the other describes lyrics that do seem a bit too desperate for the soft vibe the song emanates. He listens intently, though he finds his gaze following the finger that is tracing Yoongi’s lips. The other has really pretty fingers and it is not the first time Namjoon finds himself thinking about those pouty lips.
Minutes pass. They don’t say much but words are not needed where silence blankets them in comfort, never burdening. Namjoon is still looking at Yoongi and allows himself to look. The other one seems tired, dark shadows looming underneath his eyes and the little sigh he lets out speaks of early mornings in the studio and one too many coffees.
He wants to tell him to come home – but isn’t this studio home as well? Maybe he wants to touch his cute little nose just to see him scrunch up this exact cute nose and cast him a disapproving look. Maybe he wants to say something funny because his gummy smile makes his heart soar. It’s a shame he was never much of a comedian though.
He doesn’t know how long he has just been looking, has just existed, breathing, head void of thoughts, admiring. The face that brings him calm, the voice he calls home, the person he can always rely on.
It’s exactly this voice that catches him where he had been soaring and brings him back to the studio, back to them being here, late at night, overworked and running on passion and love alone.
“Go to bed, Namjoon-ah”, he rasps, and Namjoon just has to smile.
“Not like I shouldn’t tell you the same, hyung.”
He receives a fond glance instead of a reply and it makes him warm all over again, like it always does. He picks up the sheet of paper with the lyrics Yoongi had given him to have a look over and of course he drops the sheet just a few centimetres away from Yoongi’s outstretched hand. Later on, he will laugh about it but right there and then, it annoys him a little bit, if he was to be honest.
Later on, he will laugh about it though, because maybe – he will never be able to find out – maybe this was meant to be. Maybe he was meant to drop the paper so that he could pick it up again and thrust it into Yoongi’s still outstretched hand with a bit more force than before. With enough force for their hands to touch, even if it is just the shortest, most fleeting contact of porcelain skin on caramel skin.
(But then again, if this was meant to happen, it would have happened either way, right? Isn’t this how fate works?)
No story, no scientific report, no matter how detailed, could have prepared him for this feeling. And he understands because there is no way he will ever be able to find appropriate words for it either. This is what teleporting would probably feel like – what it would feel like to have your body sucked into space, transported into another dimension, pulled apart atom by atom and puzzled back together again.
Because another dimension is exactly where he is. Or is it only another century? It is definitely another century but it looks like it could be their world. Namjoon notices so many things at once, overwhelming doesn’t even begin to describe it. He feels like himself, at least he kind of knows that he is himself, knows it deep in his bones. The room he finds himself in is huge and open, with stone walls and large windows. The sun is setting just behind the windows on his left, casting the room and the other two people in a soft, orange glow. Taking a closer look at those other two people, he is confused at first. They are clad in robes, or long tunics? History was never his strong suit and what he sees before him reminds him of paintings from the Joseon Dynasty printed in the history books they went over in school. Or maybe it reminds him of those historical dramas Yoongi likes to watch.
The two people are holding swords, long metal blades catching the fading sunlight. The swords meet and the sudden metallic sound startles Namjoon so much he lets out his breath louder than he intended to. The sound alerts the other two of his presence and when they turn towards him, he feels like the ground is being torn away from beneath his feet again.
He doesn’t pay the person to the left another glance because all he can see is the one on the right. He has long blond hair, part of which is held back around his head with a weird-looking black, headband-style cloth. His robes are black as well, embroidered with a golden dragon on the front and on the sleeves. The person emanates an aura of power and although Namjoon doesn’t know his status, he is sure he is standing in front of a king or a prince, someone who has learned how to walk and hold himself as if the world is laid out at his feet for him to do as he pleases. What he does know though is that he is looking straight at Yoongi. At Yoongi’s soul, that is.
Whenever he asked his mother how people knew who the other person in their vision was, she gave the most frustrating answers, always telling him that he would just know. Always telling him that you and your soulmate look different in those visions because you have different bodies in your earlier or future reincarnations. It took him a while to understand what they were talking about in theory – a lot of it only made sense to him after they learned about soulmates in school, his teacher passing on all they were able to explain scientifically up to today, which was still disappointingly little. However, like many other things in life, all this knowledge only makes actual sense to him now – when he is experiencing it himself. Of course this other man is Yoongi. Every single cell in his body knows it, even though the face he is looking at, the slope of the nose, the shape of the eyes, every feature is so different from the face he looks at every single day. He has never seen that person before but he just knows that this is Yoongi’s soul.
“Yes, advisor Kim?” A gruff voice makes Namjoon tear his eyes away from the blonde man, finding the other person to be the one who had addressed him.
“His Majesty is needed in the conference room immediately”, Namjoon finds himself saying. His mouth has moved without him initiating it. Maybe he is only like a spectator in this body, not being able to control it and just being here to watch and observe?
“Of course”, the other man grumbles, not sounding too pleased with Namjoon’s request. He turns to Yoongi again and bows deeply. “We will resume our training tomorrow then, your Majesty.” He is only rewarded with a short nod from Yoongi – the king apparently, holy shit – and takes his leave, casting Namjoon another disapproving glance when he passes him on his way out.
For a minute, none of them moves, listening to the footsteps of the sword teacher echoing in the hallway. Another minute passes, with only the birds chirping outside and Namjoon’s heavy breathing ringing in his ears. Yoongi is just standing there, turned sideways, still holding the sword by his side. Then, Yoongi turns around and smiles. It is not the gummy smile he is used to from the Yoongi he knows but it makes his heart flutter nonetheless – makes the heart of this Namjoon flutter, this Namjoon that had existed way before he had. Even if their lives were as different as they could possibly be, at least from this short glance he got so far, one thing was the same and would always remain the same – the way his soulmate’s smile would make him feel at home.
(His soulmate. Like literally his soulmate. Yes, he is basically freaking out internally, how could he not? There is just so much they would need to talk about and so much to uncover and what if Yoongi didn’t have his vision so far, what if Yoongi doesn’t love him back or rejects their soul bond or what if – )
Loud footsteps tear him out of his reverie and he focuses his eyes again to see Yoongi approaching him, smiling even wider the closer he gets. Namjoon can feel his own cheeks lift as well, smiling in greeting. His body also moves, meeting the other man in the middle of the large room. When they are close enough, their hands touch and the motion is so easy, so well-practiced that Namjoon feels relief flooding his every sense. At least in one universe, in one timeline, the two of them are together just how they are meant to be.
“I missed you so much”, Yoongi whispers and the voice is so similar to his Yoongi’s voice that he is sure it would have made a shiver run down his spine if he would have control of this body he is currently in.
“We saw each other only yesterday, your Majesty”, he hears himself answer, his smile growing bigger in synch with the sarcastic intonation of the formal title.
“So you don’t want a kiss then, is that what you want to say, advisor Kim?”, Yoongi retorts, and Namjoon gets the distinctive feeling that the Namjoon and Yoongi of this timeline have a thing for their respective titles. Or sarcasm. Or both.
The Namjoon here, the advisor Namjoon, is not that much taller than king Yoongi but their height difference is enough for him to have to lean down a tiny bit. Their lips meet and this feels so right, feels so much like home that Namjoon can’t say if it’s because they have most likely kissed before in this respective bodies or if it’s because they are meant to be. He only knows that he does not want this to stop.
Which is of course why he needs a second, or maybe two, to realise that the swooping sensation in his stomach and the sense of disorientation he feels right now also stem from him being back in the studio again. Everything tingles and he feels out of place, like he was placed here on the couch in a hurry, like his body was assembled fast and one or two atoms are not in their right place. He hears Yoongi’s raspy voice call his name but it takes him a second to realise that he is back in a body that he can control, back in his own body, back in his own reality, the one he knows, the one he actually lived through. Back in this studio he calls home and back looking at the face he associates with being safe.
He can still feel the kiss on his lips, can still feel the breeze rushing through the open stone windows in his hair, can still feel the slight strain in his neck from bending down those few centimetres. And then again, he can’t, can only feel the sheet of paper between his fingers, the couch underneath his thighs, can only hear the whizzing sound of the air conditioning. He has never felt this puzzled, this discomposed. At the same time, he has never felt so sure in his entire life, so safe, so much at ease knowing that his soulmate is the one person he already calls home. The one person he relies on. The one person who knows him, who he looks up to, who supports him. The one person he would want to share this experience with. Then again –
For a split second, Namjoon feels terror creeping up on him, and he is so terrified, terrified of what this means, what he should do, what if they can’t be together, what if he screws this up, what if Yoongi doesn’t love him back –
Their eyes meet and Namjoon’s sorrows melt like forgotten ice cream in the sun, his anxiety evaporates and as fast as the anxiety caught him off guard, it’s gone again. Because looking at the other, really looking at him, Namjoon knows that everything will work out. Because this is Yoongi. This is his soulmate, his home.
민윤기
“What do you think your soulmate will be like, hyung?”
“Hm?”
“Your soulmate, hyung?”
“I don’t know, Kook-ah.”
“But you must have imagined them, right? Thought about what they will be like, and what your vision will be like?”
Yoongi just shrugs. It has been a while since he has thought about his potential soulmate. Not only because he has no time – he would have enough time if you count all the hours he spends in this studio, swirling around on his desk chair, counting the pattern on the ceiling over and over again. Not only because he is not sure he will ever meet his soulmate – some people never do, it is not a given that fate aligns your paths to cross after all.
And again, it’s not like he can’t stand the notion of having a soulmate – of being a part of something greater, something eternal. Of knowing that somewhere out there, a person exists who is the best match there can be for him. It is utterly romantic and he does like the thought of it. Likes it a lot.
His thoughts only go there when he is in the right state of mind, only then does he allow himself to fantasize – about how they would touch randomly, about how he would know that this person he came to love is his actual soulmate. It is a scary thought – what if he is not enough? Hoseok had laughed at this question when they had shared their thoughts after one too many beers early in the morning following a late night in the studio. Hoseok had asked how he could not be enough for someone who was made just for him, for someone whose soul is eternally connected to his. And maybe it is stupid, maybe it is ridiculous – but he never said his fear is rational, did he?
Jungkook’s voice tears him out of his thoughts.
“Hyung?”
“Yeah, Kook-ah?”
“I really hope I have already met them. You know?”
“Your soulmate?”
“Mhm. I’m still so young, and most people only meet their soulmate later, but … but I kind of hope I’ve already met them.”
“Because you’re falling in love?”
Jungkook doesn’t answer but then again, he doesn’t need to. The younger one has been here on this exact same couch before, on many occasions, opened his heart and poured it all out for Yoongi to hold him and tell him that everything will be alright.
Yoongi feels – he doesn’t know what he feels, he just knows that talking about Jungkook already being in love makes him feel a certain way.
(Maybe he has also been falling in love for a while now. Maybe he can relate more than he dares to admit.)
It’s hours later when he is finally satisfied with the melody he has been working on for a couple of weeks now. If it goes well, the song will be ready in time to complete his mixtape as it would fit the vibe he has been going for with it.
Surprisingly, what happens next has never happened before – right when he is shuffling around the corner, just a few metres away from the elevator, he spots the small white device on the floor. He can’t help but chuckle as he bends down to pick up the lonely air pod. Considering how many Namjoon has already lost over the years, it is such a huge surprise that he hasn’t found any before.
For a split second, Yoongi considers just taking it with him and giving it back to Namjoon the next day but then he turns around. Maybe the other one is still here in the building – the chances are not too high tough, as Yoongi is more of a night owl than the other two rappers.
When he turns around the corner of the hallway their studios are situated on and walks past the Genius Lab, he can see the light pouring through the glass door to the RKive. While he waits for Namjoon to open the door after he rang the bell, he twirls the air pod between his fingers. His cheeks lift up to a smile without him initiating it – it’s like a reflex. Other people might have gotten angry over the years, might have gotten annoyed with how often they have to fix things Namjoon breaks. But Yoongi has never done anything other than smile fondly and fix it. That’s how the two of them work, and they work well together, they complement each other on so many levels. Complement each other like –
“Ah, hyung! Come in!”, he looks up from the headphone in his hand to see the dimples he has come to associate with home. It might be late but he is glad he can return the lost device now instead of tomorrow. It might be just an excuse to spend some time together but who is here to call him out on it?
He is already chuckling before he can lift the air pod and show it to Namjoon.
“I think you lost something, Joon-ah.”
“Lost? But I haven’t – “, Namjoon’s gaze focuses on Yoongi’s hand and then he joins in on Yoongi’s quiet laughter.
“Of course I – “
Yoongi doesn’t hear the rest of what Namjoon is saying because the second their hands touch, the second Namjoon takes the air pod out of his fingers, the world is spinning and Yoongi feels like he loses his balance.
Which is weird because he doesn’t, he can feel his legs standing securely on the ground but at the same time, those are not his legs. Those are not his faded jeans and this is definitely not the light wooden floor of their hallway.
Yoongi is completely disoriented for a few seconds, adjusting to whatever happened just now. He doesn’t know where he is – it’s a dimly lit room, just dark stone walls without any windows and it reminds him a lot of a cellar. He wants to look down again but finds that he can’t control his movements. It feels like the body is his own but at the same time, it is not. He knows that he has never been to this place before but at the same time, everything around him feels eerily familiar. His gaze focuses on the only other person standing close to him in this dark room and – the feeling hits him like a freight train. Never in his considerably eventful life has he felt so many conflicting emotions at once, never has he stumbled on his thoughts as much as he does now.
With a scaring certainty, he knows that the man standing in from of him is Namjoon. The other looks completely different, he is as tall as Yoongi for starters, with long brown hair falling into his eyes. The man is wearing dark, almost black clothing, plain pants with an equally plain shirt, and he looks – scared. Big eyes searching for Yoongi’s, chest heaving up and down from his erratic breathing.
He will never be able to describe the warmth that floods his every cell when he realises where exactly he is and why he is here. Namjoon is his soulmate, they must have touched and this is his vision, this is the universe telling him that it is okay to feel the way he does, that Namjoon is his soulmate and –
Yoongi’s thoughts are abruptly and violently interrupted by a loud bang. Holy shit, was that an explosion? This other version of him whose body he is apparently currently in lowers his arms that he had raised reflexively at the sound and Yoongi can see that he is holding a black, metallic device in his right hand that looks kind of like a gun. On his left arm, he can see a fancy smart watch that looks like it’s projecting information three dimensionally, like holograms floating on the surface of the display. It looks really cool and Yoongi would like to observe it a bit closer but his gaze drifts up to the door they are standing in front of. He is just about to curse at the inconvenience of not being able to control this body when he actually registers what he is looking at. The door looks like the ones you see in science-fiction movies, it’s big and made out of some metal, made out of two plates coming together in the middle to close it. The other man – Namjoon, his brain helpfully provides – eyes him warily for a second before he speaks.
“We have to hurry, hyung! They probably just blew up the main entry!”
Apparently, this vision is of a future version of them, judging by the all the technology that surrounds them, so Yoongi just decides to call the other Future-Namjoon in his head. But wait a second, who is blowing shit up, where does this door lead and, most importantly, why on earth does he carry a gun? Oh, how much he would like to ask all of these questions right now.
Future-Namjoon steps closer to the metallic door and on the right side of it, a panel extends with a camera aimed directly at his eyes. The device scans him and then, Namjoon starts typing aggressively on a … Yoongi doesn’t even know how he would describe it, it looks like a keyboard but it is floating and kind of transparent? So it is like a digital projection of a keyboard? Whatever it is, Namjoon seemed to have successfully entered the required passwords because the door opens.
All of this might have only taken half a minute or less but this is enough time for Yoongi to grow anxious. He has no idea what or who they are trying to escape from or why. Nevertheless, even without any information on this universe, he knows that the silence following the previous loud explosion is not a good sign, not good at all. His heart is beating fast and he can feel that some of the fear he experiences also stems from the body of the Yoongi of this universe, this timeline.
“Go on through, hyung, I’ll close the door after us”, Namjoon whispers, motioning for Yoongi to step through the now open door and into a dark tunnel. He steps closer, pressing something on his watch, which then lights up the path in front of him like a small flashlight. Fancy, all this technology, and definitely immensely practical. Now he can see that the door indeed leads into a tunnel, taking a turn to the left after a couple of meters so he remains clueless as to where this will take them in the end.
He has only taken about four or five steps when he hears it. Again, like many of the things he has seen and heard in this vision, he is not sure how to describe it. It sounds a bit like fingernails scratching over a chalkboard, but more metallic. Yoongi turns around to look behind him just in time to see Namjoon’s body fall to the ground.
Everything after this moment happens in a rush and he cannot pinpoint what happens first. Does he first register that the door to the tunnel is moving slowly, closing again? Does he spot the figures entering the room leading to the tunnel first? Or does he only see them after he reaches Namjoon who is groaning in pain on the floor of the tunnel? Everything is out of focus and suddenly so loud. But Namjoon. Faster than he is able to process, he is kneeling on the ground next to him. He can see the other’s mouth moving but he cannot hear a thing. Everything feels like he is wrapped in cotton, like he has cotton in his ears and the only thing he can hear is the steady pulsing of his heart thundering through his veins. The world seems to slow down, as if someone pressed a button for slow motion. He knows it before he can actually see it. The gunshot wound on Namjoon’s back that is bleeding. Bleeding a lot. Are human’s supposed to lose this much blood from a gunshot? It’s not like Yoongi hasn’t seen his fair share of war or fight scenes in movies but this … this is just surreal. His soulmate is bleeding. And it just doesn’t stop. It just does not stop.
Namjoon’s hand gripping his arm makes Yoongi tear his eyes away from the bleeding wound and focus on his soulmate’s face. He can still see the other’s lips moving and it takes all of his strength to focus on what he is saying.
“Run, hyung! Go! Save yourself! Run, I can – ”
“I’m not leaving you alone!”
“Hyu – “
The door to the tunnel that was now closed again is apparently not enough to hold back whoever is after them as there is a loud screeching noise again. Looking up, Yoongi can see indentations in the steel from where they are probably trying to break through from the other side. Everything is pulsing, his heartbeat in his veins, his thoughts in his brain and has breathing always felt so difficult?
“You promised, hyung! You promised me! Now go and run! Run to the headquarters!“
He would replay this scene vividly many nights to come, trying to decide what he would have done. If he had actually been there, if this had actually been his life, what would he have done? Would he have run to at least save himself, like he had apparently promised or would he have stayed to fight whoever had shot Namjoon? Or would he have tried to get Namjoon up and tried to reach the end of this escape tunnel together? Up to this day, this is the most difficult question he has ever encountered.
Whatever he would have decided doesn’t matter though as this is not his life, this is not his body and therefore nothing about this situation is in his control. He will never find out what went through this Yoongi’s head, what triggered him to decide to run. Was it the look on Future-Namjoon’s face, bleeding, in pain but still looking at Yoongi with so much love in his eyes that it almost physically hurts?
Slowly, he gets up. Not looking away from Namjoon for a second. Everything still feels weird, feels frozen in time and space and he can only hope that his face portrays how much this Yoongi is hurting with every step he takes that brings him further away from his soulmate. He has only made a couple of steps when he hears that metallic sound again. This Yoongi still refuses to look away from his soulmate but in the corner of his eyes, he can see the figures approaching, all black, walking towards them with measured strides.
The last thing he sees before he turns around and runs is Namjoon. Namjoon. Namjoon mouthing I love You.
This Yoongi spares the approaching figures just one glance before he turns around but it’s enough for Yoongi to finally see what the enemy looks like. The all black figures walk choppily, like they are not human at all. At first, he thinks they are holding guns as well before he realises that the guns are just an extension of their arms. Whatever they are, they are not purely human and their eyes are the scariest thing about it all. Where the eyes would be located in the face of a person, these … things have lifeless, black eyeballs. Whatever dystopia this version of him lives in, he is only certain that it will serve as great material for many nightmares to come.
Everything inside of him screams in agony as his feet pick up the pace. The curve of the tunnel was not far away when … when it happened, so pretty quick, all he can see is darkness, breached only by the small ray of light from his flashlight that is also his watch. Everything inside of him hurts but he has no control, he is only a spectator in his body so he can only observe, can only share the pain as he feels this Yoongi’s lips moving in a constant litany of I love You, like a constant prayer, leaving his lips without making a sound.
He can’t say how long he has been running for, maybe it was only a minute, maybe it was an hour. The erratic, deafening beating of his heart is now accompanied by his footsteps, echoing in the dark. His heart is already going so fast that it doesn’t even hitch when he spots the movement around the next corner of the tunnel, still a bit away but nevertheless illuminated by the ray of his flashlight. Yoongi is terrified – it is them. Whoever – whatever they are. Apparently, this headquarter that he was supposed to reach has already been attacked. He is screwed. So fucking screwed. And in the end, the fact that hurts the most, the fact that is pounding through every cell of his body as he is running straight forward, running towards his enemies, is that Namjoon died in vain. He died for nothing if, in the end, they kill him as well. Suddenly, as suddenly as these robot-humans appeared, he is full of anger, feels like the blood in his veins has been replaced by pure fury, thundering through his body like a raging force.
Whatever power is energising this Yoongi, be it anger, be it regret, be it revenge, it doesn’t matter because he can feel it, he can feel it in every cell of his body, mixing with his own sorrow and creating something beautifully brutal, propelling him forward with a force he hasn’t deemed possible before.
He is racing forwards, racing towards his enemies, gun outstretched in his right hand. His finger finds what has to be trigger on this device because although he does not feel like he is actively pulling it, he sees the bullets flying out.
“Fuck you!”
His own scream startles him – but then again, that’s probably what he would shout as well. He can see some of his bullets actually hitting their intended target as one of the figures drops down to the floor in front of the others. He keeps on pulling the trigger and shouting, feeling a flood of victory run through him as another figure drops down. Yoongi is just starting to wonder if this gun doesn’t need to be refilled with bullets anytime soon when he blinks and sees no gun in his right hand. He blinks and sees the gun but it is fading and then he blinks again.
He blinks. And blinks again because what he sees is Namjoon and his studio mixed with Namjoon … everything is a blur and his heart is beating as fast as this future Yoongi’s heart has fluttered just before. It’s only when he feels the cold floorboards underneath his fingers that he realises he has lost his balance for real this time. He finds himself kneeling on the floor, with Namjoon kneeling next to him, supporting him with his hands under his arms. Yoongi lifts himself up to sit on his feet and only as Namjoon’s hands slide down to intertwine with his own, he dares to finally look up. The other is looking at him expectantly, probably waiting for an explanation as to why he just collapsed randomly after knocking on his studio door late at night. But what does he say now? What can he say? His head is a mess, thoughts blurring together and he can still hear this other Yoongi’s elaborate screams mixed with his footsteps echoing in his head.
He opens his mouth and licks his lips, hoping to come up with something eloquent quickly.
“Holy shit”, he hears his voice rasp, not realising that this is actually him, controlling his own vocal cords again.
Namjoon just laughs, squeezing his hands. They feel warm against Yoongi’s clammy fingers, just like Namjoon’s presence. Namjoon – his soulmate. Yoongi opens his mouth just to close it again. He still feels this mix of emotions, feels lost and found at the same time.
It’s Namjoon who speaks first, still chuckling. “Can’t wait to hear your story, hyung. I have something interesting to tell you as well.”
Looking at the smile stretching across Namjoon’s face, Yoongi knows that there is no reason to feel lost anymore.