Chapter Text
It’ll be fun, he said, Yoongi thought bitterly as another shiver ripped through his body, Kim Namjoon is a fucking liar.
Perhaps it was Yoongi’s fault for believing Namjoon when he tried to convince him that sitting in a cemetery in the middle of the night for nearly two hours would be anything more than painfully boring. Perhaps, but he also trusted Namjoon not to lie to him so really it was all on his lying bastard of a friend.
“Why the hell did I have to come to your psychic bullshit party?” Yoongi asked loudly; voice rounded with a pout.
“One,” Namjoon began; eyes never leaving the sea of gravestones in front of them. They stood huddled by the far wall of an expansive graveyard; trying in vain to shelter themselves from the wind that weaved its way through. “I would have been too freaked out by myself to get any work done. Two, I’m technically working right now. Three, you still owe me from that time I bailed you out of that shitty date - “
“The one that you and your nosey ass friend set me on! I wouldn’t have even been there if you two hadn’t - “
“ - Four, you make things louder. We’ve been through this like a hundred times. Work goes smoother when you’ve got all the psychic energy within a ten mile radius coming toward you.”
“Just because all your witch energy shit has a crush on me doesn’t mean I have to be subjected to these inhumane conditions,” Yoongi whined; voice petulant as he tried desperately to curl further into his large puffy jacket and bulky scarf. Namjoon had made him the scarf one Christmas when he’d gone through a knitting phase. It was shoddy work - all loose loops and clunky needlework. The yarn was soft, though, and a pretty deep blue that Namjoon had apparently spent ages agonizing over. Yoongi loved it.
Namjoon snorted. His nose was red, and his usually carefully styled back dusty hair was tussled everywhere from the wind. He looked younger, like that. It made Yoongi nostalgic for their high school days. Lazy mornings spent walking to school, no jobs to worry about, no taxes to pay. No overwhelming feeling of anxiety tugging at his heart every few moments. Most importantly, no standing in a graveyard at midnight in the freezing cold. Namjoon squinted a little into the distance. “Here comes another one. Get ready.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. He pulled up the notes app in his phone - scrolling past the hurriedly typed half lyrics and grocery lists to get to the note he’d been working on all night. It was filled with unfamiliar names.
Ever since Namjoon had taken the apprentice position for their local apothecary two years ago, Yoongi had heard stories of the graveyard trips on Saint Mark’s Eve. A holiday useless to almost everyone - except the psychically inclined. Yoongi never really understood why, but Namjoon always said he felt more when it happened.
“I dunno,” he’d mumbled once, voice far away and frown on his face, “I just feel everything sharper. It’s clearer. Like wiping down a foggy window. It’s so much easier on that day.”
Yoongi had dutifully stayed away from creepy graveyards at night, thanks, for years but this year he had finally caved. He was regretting letting Namjoon’s puppy dog eyes get to him. Damn him and his weak heart.
“Excuse me. What’s your name?” Namjoon asked the air softly; quietly. Gentle, like he always was. Yoongi also didn’t like this because the graveyard made Namjoon solemn. He couldn’t really blame him - getting names from not-dead-yet ghosts was grim work. Within a year, the ghosts of the people Namjoon saw would die. This was a precursor - a practice run for the time to come. It was Namjoon, and his teacher’s job to inform their clients of this. Namjoon paused for a long moment, patient as ever, before reciting a name.
Yoongi did his best to write it down as he heard it. They may have to do a little decoding later, but there wasn’t much they could do about it.
“There’s not a lot tonight, thankfully,” Namjoon mumbled as he let his shoulders slump a little; a great sigh escaping him. “Some years there’s a lot more and it’s just.... a lot to take in, I guess.”
Yoongi hummed in acknowledgement; eyes trained on the notification he just got. “I don’t blame you. I can’t even see anything and it’s freaking me out.” Seokjin was asking him how they were doing, and if he wanted to join them for lunch tomorrow. He texts back, if you’re paying, sure.
Seokjin's reply was immediate. Brat. I always pay.
You’re the hyung, hyung:)
Ugh shut up
Yoongi allowed himself a small smile at his screen. Seokjin liked to complain, but he wouldn’t ever allow Yoongi to pay even if he tried. He liked taking care of his friends, regardless of how huffy he tried to act.
“What’s your name?” Namjoon asked. “Excuse me? What’s your name?”
Yoongi, confused at the worried tone to Namjoon’s voice, looked up.
There was a man there.
Yoongi felt himself gasp; heart stuttering at the shock. “What - “ he couldn’t believe it. Yoongi didn’t see ghosts. He never had. He didn’t have any psychic powers whatsoever. No magic, nothing. That was Namjoon’s thing - Namjoon’s world that just sometimes bled into Yoongi’s. Yoongi hadn’t seen any ghosts the entire night, but suddenly - suddenly -
The ghost was a man, or the idea of one. He was moving slowly, arms hugging himself, as he made his way toward the gate of the graveyard. Usually, according to Namjoon, the ghosts would pause when called to. “They’re not quite aware,” Namjoon had explained, “as they are just working on reflex. Their name is usually all they have energy to give.” This ghost didn’t seem to be heeding any of Namjoon’s calls, though. He just kept walking; feet dragging as though reluctant. Head down; shoulders shivering. His form was more smoke, maybe, as Yoongi’s brain tried its best to make sense of what it was seeing. A white wisp, see through and shimmering.
“Namjoon.” Yoongi’s hand found his arm, and squeezed tight. “Namjoon, I can see him.”
“You what - “
“I can see him,” Yoongi repeated; awed and sick. His stomach was in knots.
They both knew what that meant.
Yoongi and Namjoon had been friends for at least a decade - since Namjoon had moved into the house next door in middle school, the two had been inseparable. There was no Yoongi without Namjoon. There was no Namjoon without Yoongi. As such, it became quickly apparent to Yoongi that Namjoon and his family were not normal. It wasn’t a bad thing, per say, it was just a bit peculiar. Namjoon, talking to air as though it were a person. Namjoon’s mother, knowing they were misbehaving even from three rooms away. Namjoon’s father, always going to answer the phone before it rang.
It took a while for Namjoon to work up the courage, but eventually he confessed that he was from a strong line of psychics - natural magic users, similar to witches, but they simply didn’t put their abilities to work like their witch counterparts. Namjoon had expected Yoongi to laugh at him - to not believe him. But by then Yoongi had seen, in their three years of friendship, too many abnormalities around the Kims to ignore it. Yoongi believed what he saw, and what he saw was - Namjoon, aged thirteen, so angry that his glass of water shattered without anyone touching it. Namjoon, aged fourteen, asking him “Did you have that nightmare about the big dog again?” over the phone. Namjoon, aged fifteen, flinging a hand out toward him as Yoongi fell from a tree; eyes wild with fear and something else. Yoongi had floated harmlessly to the ground, feather light after his break neck dive, and that was when Namjoon had finally told him.
Ever since then, Namjoon’s world of magic was something Yoongi acknowledged, yes, but he lived more parallel to it than actually interacting it. He couldn’t do anything. Didn’t see ghosts. Couldn’t bend spoons. He was just a spectator, looking through a window.
So, seeing a ghost - on St. Mark’s Eve, of all nights - when previously he could not was sort of a huge deal. One they would have to have a serious talk about. But for now -
“Go! Get his name, I have others coming.” Namjoon hurriedly fumbled around for his phone; fingers working furiously as he kept glancing up at the air in front of him. “Excuse me, what’s your name?”
Yoongi stared at the place in front of Namjoon. Nothing. Nothing but the night; the headstones littering the ground. Nothing. He turned his head, back toward the gate. White. The weird, see through haze of a person - shuffling forward dutifully. Reluctantly. “I - “
“Just go,” Namjoon hissed; fingers typing away. He didn’t look up. “We’ll talk later.”
Yoongi sighed. God, this was going to be weird.
He had to jog to catch up to the man. He almost reached out to stop him, but he snatched his hand back before he could make contact. Probably not the best idea. “Excuse me,” Yoongi said. His voice sounded scared. He cleared his throat, tried again. “Excuse me.”
The ghost stopped, rather abruptly. Yoongi had to scramble to stop as well to not run into him - through him? He turned, the ghost, the idea of a human, but the eyes didn’t seem to see Yoongi.
Looking closely, he was a handsome man. From what Yoongi could make out, at least. Strong features, soft lips, sharp eyes that looked dazed; confused.
“What’s your name?” Yoongi asked. His voice was just as melancholic as Namjoon’s had been. It felt so surreal, so wrong. The sick feeling in his stomach churned and twisted and stabbed.
“Taehyung,” he whispered. Yoongi was surprised. He hadn’t really expected him to answer. Part of Yoongi still wanted to believe that this was all a fluke, a mix up. If he heard Yoongi, then it was really happening. He was really - “Kim Taehyung.”
“Oh,” Yoongi said. He wasn’t sure what else to do. He watched, unsure and unsettled, as the ghost turned and continued on its way. He looked sad.
Lost.
Yoongi shivered as a gust of wind rushed by. He wanted to go home.
By the time he made it back to Namjoon, he was freezing. Namjoon looked up from his phone, sent Yoongi an apologetic grimace, before asking the air what their name was. He didn’t ask Yoongi to help him anymore.
It was another thirty minutes of shivering in the cold night air before it was all done. “That should be the last of them,” Namjoon said.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Yoongi’s sigh was bone deep. Namjoon still looked rather sheepish. “What? Why do you look like a kicked puppy?”
“Sorry,” Namjoon mumbled; looking down at his shoes. “I should have gotten his name. That was probably scary for you, right? I just - there were others and they were going to leave if I - “
“It’s fine, Joon-ah,” Yoongi said, and reached forward to squeeze Namjoon’s hand. “I was more surprised than anything.” He didn’t tell Namjoon about the bad taste in his mouth; the fluttering of his heart.
They knew what this meant.
“...Yoongi - “
“I know,” Yoongi said. He didn’t need to be reminded.
Having a best friend whose family were psychics meant that you would, at some point or another, get a tarot reading. It was fine, and fun, so Yoongi didn’t mind being the guinea pig for a new deck or a new way to spread. He liked the ritual of it - how the Kims, specifically, did their readings. They made it so cozy, so inviting. They would light candles, serve tea and snacks, put on some light music, and don their fluffiest blankets. Namjoon’s mother had once explained, “Everyone does it differently, of course. We like to be comfortable. The cards are as much part of the family as we are - they help us, and in return we give only positive energy. Energy moves, Yoongi-yah, you see. If we are happy and relaxed, so too will the cards. So too, will be the energy around us. So too, will be the people in this house. So we are gentle when we read, and we are gentle when we cook, and we are gentle when we say goodnight. So the world will be gentle with us, in kind.” Yoongi liked that, too. Liked a lot about the Kim family, but he especially liked how gentle they were. How genuine they let themselves be.
It was good. Nice, even. Yoongi enjoyed tarot readings, but he did not enjoy his own being read. Every time he would get his fortune read, from the first time Namjoon excitedly sat him down to just five months ago when Yoongi let the old lady by the fish market talk him into a quick reading (“you’re so interesting,” she had said; eyes alight, “you have to let me read for you. The spirits tug at you, boy. Best hear them out.”), Yoongi would get the exact same reading.
“Your soul is bound to another.”
Yoongi sort of really hated it. Not the message itself, per say. But what it had done to him. What it had done to his past self, the optimistic; horribly in love self. It was more of a curse, it felt. Looming over him; casting doubt. Pressing insecurities into the cracks between his words. The first few times it had happened - the first few times Namjoon or his family had the words bubble up from their throat almost unwillingly - they had all been rightfully confused. They wouldn’t be asking about anything pertaining to souls at all - the very first question Namjoon had ever tried to answer for Yoongi was if he would pass his math class - but the answer would still be the same. Every time, without fail, the reader would only ever have that sentence for him.
“It’s so odd,” the old woman had mumbled; frowning down at the cards. “I’ve never had anything like this before. The cards are meant for your question, but all I can see is this - “ she gestured at all the cards, spread out in front of them. A simple three card spread. The past, the present, the future. The moon. The tower. The chariot. “Your soul is bound to another. It’s not the cards, boy, it’s - the spirits. Whispering to me. Tell me, have you heard this before?”
“Yes,” Yoongi had sighed; staring into the candle on the small wooden table. Resigned. “I have.”
“They must be reminding you for a good reason, then,” she’d said; a satisfied nod. “They want you to know real bad, I suppose. Keep that in mind. Don’t ever forget it, you hear me?”
Yoongi wasn’t sure how he was ever supposed to forget when it was drilled into him constantly. When his mind whispered to him in the night, Even your soul is not your own to have.
“Look, I know you don’t like talking about it, but - this is big. Normal people seeing a ghost tonight - on a ley line, hyung! The Crossroads! - either means that’s their true love, or they’ll kill them. If you saw someone, then it has to mean - “
“I need to turn myself in to the police?”
Namjoon gives him a withering look. Yoongi hadn’t even tried to make it sound like a joke. “You’re not gonna killanyone, hyung. This is your true love. We finally found him! Now we can figure out why the spirits always want you to know, maybe we can figure out what’s going on - “
“I’d much rather murder someone, thanks,” Yoongi muttered; hands shoved into his pockets. The hand warmers had long since been used up. He felt chilled to the bone. “Look, we don’t even know if we’ll ever meet him. No reason worrying about it now.”
Namjoon gave Yoongi a long, contemplative look. Yoongi tried his best not to squirm, and instead glowered into the dark graveyard. “...Fine, alright. But we can’t not talk about this, hyung.”
“I know,” Yoongi said. His voice tripped into something less gruff, and a little more vulnerable. Uncertain. He scrunched his nose in disdain. “I’m just - tired. I’m tired, Joon-ah.”
“Okay,” Namjoon said. “Okay, Yeah. Later. Let’s get you home and warmed up. You’re shivering.”
For once, Yoongi didn’t even notice the frigid wind. He nodded, and let Namjoon wrap his arm around his shoulders to guide them out of the cemetery. He allowed himself to look back, just once, as they were leaving. The graveyard was empty.
Seokjin wanted to take them to a new cafe he'd found the week prior. The Blue, Seokjin had texted the previous night. It’s really cute. Owner’s hot too. So there they were. The Blue was a quaint shop nestled between a tailor’s shop and a bookstore. The sign above the door was all bright, bubbly letters and pops of color. Yoongi feared the worst, at that. He couldn’t take an assault of neon so early in the morning, and found himself reluctantly yanking the door open.
It was a pleasant surprise, the pale blue of the walls. The first thing Yoongi noticed was the cinnamon permeating the air. A toaster dinged in the kitchens. There were plants everywhere. Succulents on the counter, terrariums with vines reaching down toward the floor hanging from the ceiling, large potted trees stuck in the corners. Tiny potted plants sat on windowsills with hand painted designs. There was a large fish bowl on the counter between the cash registers and the pick up counter, sitting all by itself, with a single goldfish in it.
Namjoon made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat. “Alright, try not to get too excited, Ocean Boy,” Yoongi said with a snort.
“I just appreciate nature is all okay?” Namjoon replied, but his eyes happily trailed on the fish as they walked up to the counter. “I wonder what it’s name is.”
“Blue, of course!” The barista had seemed to hear them. He laughed brightly, and shook some of the fluffy brown hair that had gotten in his face away. He was handsome, in the same soft way Namjoon was - all friendly smiles and warm vibes. His fingernails were painted with tiny rainbows. “I haven’t seen you here before! First time?” At their nod, the man continued, “Well then! Allow me to properly welcome you to The Blue. My name is Jung Hoseok, the owner.”
“Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure,” Namjoon said with his best I’m the nicest guy you’ll ever meet smile. Yoongi had to fight the strong urge to roll his eyes at Namjoon’s immediate and very obvious swooning.
“Min Yoongi. How many Blues have you been through since opening the store?”
“Hyung - “
Hoseok’s laugh cut off Namjoon’s affronted words. “Oh, like at least four. Last one was accidentally knocked off the counter by a mammoth of a hockey player. He cried for quite some time, actually.... poor thing. He got a free crepe and that cheered him right up, at least.” Hoseok’s grin was blinding and Yoongi decided that it was too early in the morning to be faced with a human sun. Namjoon, though, seemed all the ready to bask in it. “Which is a wonderful segue. Our crepes are some of the best on the block!”
After they ordered - Namjoon, the man ruled almost entirely by his heart, ordered the crepe - they made their way further into the store in search of Seokjin.
It was easy enough to spot him, with his bright pink sweater. All the way at the back of the store, in a table booth snuggled at the left corner, Seokjin sat playing Candy Crush. “You’re like a fucking homing beacon, with that shirt,” Yoongi said in lieu of an actual greeting.
Seokjin rolled his eyes as he glanced up at them. “Yes, and you look like the grim reaper, come to - “ Seokjin stopped, which made Yoongi stop. Namjoon, oblivious, slid into the booth and shrugged off his enormous brown trench coat that weighed ten pounds. Yoongi and Seokjin stared at each other - Seokjin, scrutinizing. Yoongi, trying his best to not be scrutinized. It didn’t work. “What’s wrong?” He asked Yoongi, but didn’t give him a chance to answer before whipping his head toward Namjoon. “What’s wrong with him?”
Namjoon blinked, eyes owlish. “Uh?”
Seokjin didn’t wait for Namjoon to gather his wits either as he pointed to the empty space beside Namjoon. “Sit,” he ordered, in his rarely used Hyung Voice. Yoongi sat, and proceeded to not look at Seokjin. “Min Yoongi, you know you can’t lie to me. What’s wrong?”
He knew that well, which was precisely why he hadn’t said anything. He didn’t want to talk about it. If he didn’t speak it, then maybe he could forget it quicker.
“Did something happen last night?” Seokjin asked.
“Oh,” Namjoon said.
Yoongi sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought I asked you to stop reading me.”
“You know I can’t just turn it off, Yoongi.” Seokjin frowned; hand curled around his mug, phone forgotten on the table. Yoongi risked a glance up at him. He was met with a deepening frown. “Are you okay?”
Kim Seokjin had been their friend for a handful of years. He and Namjoon had met at Namjoon’s job at the apothecary, and quickly became friends. Seokjin brought out a playful side to Namjoon that Yoongi appreciated. It was the same for him, after all. It was easy to relax around Seokjin, and his natural giggly energy was rather contagious. They’d all grown close rather fast, and it hadn’t been long before Seokjin had confessed to them about his ability.
“So like, when I look into people’s eyes, I can tell what they’re feeling,” Seokjin had said in a light tone, as if that wasn’t something to be shocked at.
“Wait - what - you’re -“ Namjoon sputtered, and smashed pause on the controller. Yoongi stared at his Yoshi, inches from falling to his death on Rainbow Road, and realized he would not be winning this round. Unfortunate. Seokjin let out a protest that fell on deaf ears. “Hyung, you’re an empath? That’s insane. Do you know how rare that is? Holy shit - “
“Yes, yes, it’s super rare and I’m super awesome and talented and powerful. It can be annoying sometimes when I accidentally look at a pissed off customer and then I have to feel their annoyance. It's itchy and I don’t like it. But otherwise it works out pretty well. Like, this one guy today totally had the hots for me. I’m never wrong when I hit on someone cuz I already know they like me.” Seokjin sat back in the couch, and stretched.
Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “How is attraction an emotion?”
“It’s like, bulgogi - “
“ - it is most definitely not that - “
“ - gotta mix a bunch of shit together to make it a whole meal, you know?” Yoongi hated that he understood that. Seokjin continued, “there’s certain emotions that make up bigger feelings. Like attraction, or despair, or that moment when you stub your toe in the middle of the night.”
“What am I feeling now, then?” Yoongi asked, not because he didn’t believe him. But because he was -
“Spite, you little shit.” Seokjin gave his arm a punch that didn’t hurt at all, but Yoongi complained anyway through a laugh. “You’re just a ball of spite twenty four seven.”
And that’s how Yoongi knew he was telling the truth.
“You’re all tangled up. I can’t even figure out what it is besides bad.” Seokjin was looking more and more concerned by the second. Yoongi looked away, and shrugged pitifully.
Namjoon rest a hand on Yoongi’s knee, and squeezed gently. “You know how he helped me out last night? With St. Mark’s?” Namjoon caught Yoongi’s eye, a silent ask for permission. Yoongi nodded, and crossed his arms. Another squeeze on Yoongi’s knee before he continued, “Something happened. You know hyung’s not like us, so he shouldn’t be able to see what was going on. But near the end he saw - someone. A spirit. I tried calling out to him, but he didn't even notice me. He answered to Yoongi, though. A true spirit should have answered to anyone, but since this was different... And since hyung saw him - ”
“Oh,” Seokjin said; eyes wide. He looked at Yoongi, but Yoongi didn’t look back. Instead he’d found a window across the shop to stare at. “Oh, Yoongi.”
He said it like, “Oh, Yoongi.” Like a parent, sad for their child; lingering on his name like the emphasis would help him. Like the realization of someone else’s feelings in such a way that you go through it with them. Like the sound of being unable to protect someone from something that may harm them. Yoongi didn’t know what to feel. His shoulders rose to his ears as he leaned back further into his seat.
No matter how close Namjoon and Yoongi were, Seokjin was still the one with the ability to read emotions like a book. He, of all people, would know exactly how Yoongi felt about the soulmate situation. He’d witnessed first hand one of Yoongi’s many failed readings, and the complicated look on Seokjin’s face had mirrored what Yoongi had felt exactly. Seokjin had hugged him for a long time after, just the two of them. He had whispered everything Yoongi had been desperate to hear, and pretended not to notice Yoongi crying into his shoulder. That had been the night Yoongi realized that Seokjin was meant for his life just the same way Namjoon had been.
Yoongi finally dragged his eyes to meet Seokjin’s, and felt a little bad at the way his friend gave a small gasp and leaned back. “Oh, Yoongi,” Seokjin said, and this one sounded more like a plea. It felt wrong - all of it. To have his heart laid bare on the table in front of him, in the quiet little shop with a very obvious 1980s city pop mix playing through the speakers. It was too bright of a morning for such visceral feelings; the smell of sugar too heavy in the air. This was supposed to be for midnight - for heavy blankets and whispers. But here they were. He had no place to hide here. “You’ve found him.”
Yoongi snorted through the unnameable emotion stuck in his throat. “I didn’t find shit. Just because I saw something last night doesn’t mean I’ll ever find them now. Seoul is huge. You mean to tell me it’d be that easy?”
“Yes,” Seokjin said, like it was. Because it was. “You know as well as any magic user that when one thing happens, there comes another.”
“Two more,” Namjoon agreed.
Yoongi hated the three rule. It wasn’t even a rule, per say. The Kims always called it a fact when big - important, with a capital I - things happened, it would be in threes. Yoongi wanted to refute it. Wanted to say it was dumb, just a wives’ tale. But he knew. He knew, but he still muttered, “doesn’t mean it has to be a Three this time.”
They all knew it was an empty statement. Seeing your soulmate was nearly as big as a Big Important Thing could get. Namjoon indulged him anyway. “Maybe,” he said. “But you wouldn’t have seen the spirit on any other St. Mark’s Eve if he wasn’t in the same town as you. It works on Ley Lines, and you’d have to be on the same Line to see it. So, he’s close, at least.”
“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” Yoongi asked. He hated how raw and uncomfortable his voice sounded. It made him shrink into himself further.
“Sorry, hyung,” Namjoon said. There was a small grimace on his face. “I know you don’t like it, but this is important. You know that. I just think maybe you’ll feel better if you confront it all.”
Seokjin nudged Yoongi’s foot softly. He had this complicated expression when Yoongi looked up, but there was still a reassuring smile on his face. “You’re still you, Yoongi-yah. A soulmate won’t change that.”
There was more to it, they both knew, but that was not a conversation for this place. “I know,” Yoongi whispered; his hand finding Namjoon’s still on his knee. He squeezed, firm; needing the anchor. Namjoon smiled at him patiently. “I know.”
Seokjin nodded. “As long as you’re aware. Now, tell me, was he hot?”
Yoongi snorted; eyes wet as he rolled them. “Shut up, ass.”
“It’s a genuine question! Namjoon-ah, was he hot? This is important information to know - “
“Sorry for the wait!” They all looked up to see Hoseok bounding over; tray balanced easily in his hands even as he nearly skipped to their table. “Here you are!”
“I assure you, we don’t mind at all,” Seokjin purred; grin smoothing over his lips easily. Yoongi fought the urge to kick him.
Namjoon, in near juxtaposition, fumbled his words, “Yes! Not - not a problem! Thank you.”
Hoseok only beamed brighter at the both of them, and Yoongi was nearly certain that he could see them melting. Their mugs were sat in front of them - deep blues with little goldfish painted on - carefully. Namjoon made a happy noise at the fruit covered crepe he was given. Yoongi nearly grimaced at the pure amount of powdered sugar that it had been smothered in. “And this is for you.”
A small blue plate was sat in front of Yoongi, to his surprise. It was a slice of cake, what looked to be a simple vanilla with white frosting. Yoongi didn’t hate sweets, but he wasn’t a big fan of them usually. Yoongi blinked up at Hoseok. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t order - “
“Oh, no! It’s on the house.” Hoseok laughed and shot a look over his shoulder, toward the counter. No one was there, however. “My baker said it looked like you needed it.” At Yoongi’s confused expression, Hoseok laughed even louder. “Ah, don’t sweat it! He’s weird like that. I’ve just learned to go along with it. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Let me know if I can do anything else for you.”
He whisked away in just as much flurry as he’d arrived; leaving a confused Yoongi and two ogling men with him. “God, what I’d let him do to me,” Seokjin sighed happily.
Yoongi finally was able to roll his eyes. He took a sip of his coffee, and felt the tension slowly begin to roll off him. It was fucking perfect. “You keep trying to act like some suave guy, but you literally got embarrassed trying to hold your last boyfriend’s hand in public.”
“Shut up!” Seokjin hissed; the tips of his ears already burning just by the simple sentence. “I just! Um!”
“He is very pretty,” Namjoon said, as if he hadn’t heard a thing they’d said. With the way he was staring down at his coffee, it was very possible.
“Anyway, are you gonna eat that? I know you don’t like sweets much. Gimme.” Seokjin made grabby hands at him, and just for that Yoongi pulled the cake closer to him. Seokjin pursed his lips, and dropped his hands. “I have truly never met a more spiteful human than you.”
Yoongi grinned for the first time that day, and picked up a fork. “Hyung, that’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten,” he said, and took a bite.
Yoongi wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. He hadn’t really been thinking about the action - it was just cake, after all. He got a piece, ate it. It was good enough. Not as sweet as he’d been dreading. It was actually pretty pleasant. But as he took his third or fourth bite, Seokjin’s words had begun to trail off. Namjoon’s hand had found Yoongi’s knee again, but this time it was squeezing harder than before. Yoongi blinked, and lowered his fork. “What?” Yoongi asked after he swallowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He didn’t like the heartbroken look on Seokjin’s face. “Yoongi-yah,” he said; voice soft. It felt weird to hear that tone in public - it was only ever used when it was just the two of them, when Yoongi let his guard down and let Seokjin know what was bothering him.
“Why are you crying?” Namjoon asked; voice just as soft. Yoongi frowned, and lifted his free hand to his face.
Ah.
“When?” Yoongi asked, nearly in a daze. His fork clattered to his half empty plate as he tried to wipe at his eyes. His shoulders had begun to shake, now, as the tears refused to stop. “Why?” His own voice sounded small and off to his ears.
“Hold on,” Namjoon murmured; hands gentle as he turned and pulled Yoongi’s hands away from his face. Yoongi allowed him to wipe at his tears with a napkin; sniffling and trying desperately to get it all to stop.
“I don’t understand,” Yoongi said. He wasn’t even that upset, he’d told himself it wasn’t that big of a deal. He’d had complete control over himself all morning, so why had he suddenly -
“That’s okay,” Namjoon reassured him, and kept wiping even though the tears showed no signs of stopping. He was so gentle - painfully so. Careful of Yoongi’s eyes, careful not to press or wipe too hard. That, if anything, didn’t help him stop.
“Alright, I can’t stand this anymore, scoot.” And then Seokjin was piling into their side of the booth; arms tangling around Yoongi, knees knocking his.
“Guys, this is overkill. I’m fine I just - “ Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat as he tried to fight down a sob. “I don’t even know why I’m - it’s not a big deal?”
“This is totally not a big deal at all,” Seokjin agreed, even as he tucked Yoongi’s head under his chin. Even as he rocked them ever so gently, even as Namjoon dutifully attended to Yoongi’s cheeks, “Super not a big deal. That cake was just really good, right?”
Yoongi felt his heart twist in the best possible way. He looked up at Seokjin as much as he could, pulling back a little. He stared him in the eye to make sure he could feel exactly what he felt, even through his tears. It must have worked well, because Seokjin soon let a brilliant smile fill his lips. “Yeah,” Yoongi managed. “It was really good.”
Seokjin laughed softly, and curled Yoongi back into his chest. “We love you, too, Yoongi,” he whispered, and Yoongi finally allowed himself to weep.
“I’m not going back there,” Yoongi said; deadpan.
Seokjin pouted. “Dammit, Yoongi! Help me out I want that man.”
“Then go try and fail to woo him on your own time,” Yoongi said; waving him off as he turned back to his computer. “I’ve got work to do.”
“No! I can’t. Namjoon is coming with me and I need someone who isn’t enraptured with Hoseok to help be the buffer.” Seokjin said; arms crossed.
“How are you gonna try and get with Hoseok when you can’t even tell Namjoon how you feel?” Yoongi asked as he tried and failed to focus on the track. Seokjin’s affronted noises made it hard to concentrate.
“I’m trying to kill two birds with one stone, thank you very fucking much!”
“Hyung, last time I went there I bawled like a fucking baby. I can never, in good conscience, show my face there again.” Yoongi involuntarily thought of the pitied; concerned look on Hoseok's face as he was escorted out of the cafe in a bundle of arms and hushed talking. The embarrassment felt like hot coals shoved under his skin. He shifted a bit, uneasy.
"That was like a week ago, Yoongi. I'm sure he's forgotten!"
Hoseok had not forgotten.
Yoongi was terrible at saying no to his friends, and Seokjin knew that well. It had only taken a few more minutes of ribbing and blatant pouting to get Yoongi to crack. Not like he could work on the track anymore with the shame from his public meltdown breathing down his back. So he'd donned his largest hoodie - the one with long sleeves he could hide his hands in and the pretty swirling art of a fox on the back - and thrown the hood up to cover his face as much as possible. Mostly so he wouldn't have to look Hoseok in the eyes, but also as a silent way to tell Seokjin he still wasn't very happy about the entire situation.
"It's nice to see you two again!" Hoseok chirped. Yoongi was sure Hoseok had that same grin on, but he didn't look up from his beaten up sneakers to check. "How have you been? Feeling better? Seokjin hyung told me you hadn't felt well."
All pretenses of hiding away forgotten, Yoongi snapped his head up to glare at Seokjin. Right in the eyes, so he would have to feel the prickle of his annoyance. Yoongi took some satisfaction in the small twitch to Seokjin's nose. "He sure does like to talk about other people's business, huh?" Yoongi muttered quietly, just enough for Seokjin to hear. A bit louder, he finally brought his gaze to Hoseok and cleared his throat, "Yeah. I'm doin fine now, thanks."
"Good! And you, hyung?" Hoseok batted his eyes at Seokjin. "You haven't been back since then, either. I was starting to get worried."
Yoongi narrowed his eyes, just slightly.
"Ah, work's been so busy I've been dying, Hoseok-ah," Seokjin whined easily; sliding closer to the counter to lean his elbows on it. He leaned closer to give Hoseok the full brunt of his pouting. Yoongi fought the want to roll his eyes; even more so when he heard Hoseok giggling quietly. "Did you miss me then?"
Hoseok's smile curled into something warm and saccharine. "Always," he cooed.
Yoongi suddenly wasn't sure if Seokjin needed as much help as he claimed.
Halfway through ordering his coffee, Yoongi's eye snagged on something orange in the bakery display case. Hoseok happily jumped at the chance and said, "Ah, did you see our cookies? Aren't they so cute? The design changes a lot since Tae gets bored easily. I really like today's!"
There was a fox staring back up at Yoongi through the glass; body outlined in curling orange and reds, but its eyes were sharp and black. Yoongi opened his mouth, maybe to ascent but politely move on. He wasn't particularly in the mood for sweets at the moment - "They are cute. I'll take one," he said instead, because his social anxiety was something that would damn him one day. He bit back a sigh as Hoseok cheerily punched his order in.
They went to sit at the same booth they had the week prior. One of the ferns hanging closest to their table seemed to have grown more in the short time since. "So," Seokjin began; dragging Yoongi's attention away from the plant. He drummed his fingers against the tabletop; eyes somewhat distant. "Wingman aside, that's not the only reason I asked you here. I wanted some time with you before Namjoon got here."
Yoongi raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure if he was more curious or more apprehensive. "...Okay. Should I be concerned?"
Seokjin waved a hand. "Hardly. I just wanted your opinion."
"Okay, not really a reason to be so secretive about it, though. You could've like, texted me." Yoongi sat back; arms crossed as he appraised his friend. "Proceed."
"Alright, so. You know how I'm... a little interested in Namjoon?"
Yoongi snorted loudly at this. "A little? You've been head over heels with him for years."
Seokjin, ever the disdainful toward intense emotions of his own being thrown out in the open, scrunched his nose. "Alright, fine. I've got a crush - "
" - crush? Please - "
"Anyway! Look. I'm tired of just sitting on my hands. I want to try. And I figured maybe you'd be able to help. You know him best, after all."
"...Hyung," Yoongi said after a long moment; head tilted in confusion. "You can read emotions. Why are you - I can't do what you can, and I still can tell Joonie likes you back."
Seokjin pursed his lips. There was a healthy dusting of pink across his face as he shifted in his seat. "I know. I just. He's different, Yoongi-yah. I want to do this right, and well."
Exasperated, and hopelessly endeared, Yoongi sighed. "Alright, Romeo. I'll help." Seokjin perked up immediately; eyes bright and smile brighter. "Calm down, I dunno what you expect me to do. You know him almost as well as I do."
"True, but I figured two heads were better than one. But anyway, we’ll talk more about that later. He should be arriving soon, I told him to meet us at 3:15.”
Yoongi grunted. “And with how slow he is, it’ll be 3:30 until he gets here.”
Seokjin giggled, “Precisely. It’s already,” Seokjin glanced at his phone, and made a triumphant noise. “Already 3:17. Got a text saying he’s late. Honestly, he’s so predictable.”
“Please don’t say that with so much affection. You’ll make it hard for me to stomach my food.”
“Oh, shut up. You call me the dramatic one.”
Yoongi heard Hoseok walking up before he even announced himself. He was humming to the song playing over the speakers; doing a poor rendition of the instruments in the song instead of the actual lyrics. “Here we go!” He chirped as he reached their table; thousand-watt smile unwavering. “Sorry for the wait. We’re a bit short staffed right now waiting for the next shift. Hyung, I made sure to put extra cinnamon this time.”
Seokjin lit up immediately; smile just as blinding. “Did you? You’re so good to me, Hoseok-ah!”
Yoongi glanced out the window to his left. If only he could launch himself out of it...
“Here you go, hyung. Hope you like it.” Hoseok said; voice softer as he set the plate in front of Yoongi. Yoongi looked up to thank him, and found Hoseok grinning toothily at him. “Is it okay to call you hyung? Seokjin-hyung said it was alright, but you know how he is.”
They both ignored Seokjin’s offended, “Hey!” easily.
Yoongi grunted. “Yeah, I don’t mind.” He picked up the mug just as Hoseok sat it down. “If you’re a friend of hyung’s you’re a friend of mine. A packaged deal, unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately? Min Yoongi, I will have you know I have only increased your life standard since I’ve entered it! You’re at least twenty percent happier than before!”
Yoongi ignored Seokjin again, but mostly because he was absolutely right. He took a sip of the coffee, and smiled up at Hoseok. It was perfect, once again. “This is good. Thanks.”
Hoseok beamed. “You’re welcome! Glad you like it.” He turned to Seokjin. “Hyung, let me know if yours is okay. I’ll add more cinnamon if I need to. Okay?”
“Oh, thank you,” Seokjin managed; blinking at the sudden attention.
“Of course,” Hoseok said; giggle in his words again. “I take care of my favorites, after all.” He reached over to tap the end of Seokjin’s nose.
Yoongi watched in amusement as Seokjin’s eyes widened and his ears swiftly began to darken. What a sap.
Seokjin opened his mouth, presumably to attempt to react in some way, but Hoseok was already taking the tray and spinning around. “Enjoy! Let me know if I can help with anything else!”
The moment he left, Seokjin snapped his head toward Yoongi. He leaned over the table; voice dipped down as if to share a conspiracy. “What the fuck am I going to do, Yoongi? He just - he just does things like that! I can’t handle that! My ratio of confident to panic gay is not balanced enough for this!”
“Suffer,” Yoongi suggested.
Seokjin glowered at him. “I hate you.”
“No,” Yoongi chuckled; taking a sip of his coffee. “You don’t.”
“...Okay, but I really want to.” Seokjin muttered.
Yoongi smirked. “Can’t all get what we want, hyung - “ Yoongi’s phone began to ring; familiar Epik High lyrics making his hand move to grab his phone before his mind really processed what it was. He glanced at the caller ID, and smiled. Best to pick up quick, then. “Hey, Mrs. Kim,” Yoongi greeted; moving his phone to his other hand so he could pick up his cookie.
He took a bite. Once again, not as sweet as he had anticipated. It was rather light, and went well with the coffee. A good, if unexpected, choice.
"Yoongi-yah," Mrs. Kim's voice was just as cheery as always. Yoongi felt his shoulders relax at the familiar voice. "I just had a wonderful little thought!"
The relaxation edged a bit more towards anxiety again, at that. That usually meant she'd sensed something. Normally, that wouldn't bother Yoongi. But ever since the graveyard, he'd been a little cautious. Anything supernatural now could mean him and the last thing Yoongi wanted to do was think about the entire ordeal more than he already was. "What was it?" he asked anyway.
"I think you should be on the look out for something today - something warm, I think? It's a little hard to grasp right now - all the way in Seoul, tell Namjoon-ah you two need to visit soon, by the way - but it's such a lovely little thing. Orange, maybe red? Soft, yes. A fox." Yoongi stared down at his half eaten cookie. The fox stared back up at him, expectant; taunting. Motherfucker. "What a lovely day it is! Everything just feels so right, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Yoongi lied. It felt very not right to him.
"Ah, I'm so glad! By the way, tell my forgetful son to grab his rain jacket tomorrow, will you?" She asked, oblivious to the torment she sent his head into.
"Yes, ma'am. I will."
"Thank you! I have to go - got groceries to get. Goodness knows no matter how well my husband can see the future he can't ever seem to remember a simple grocery list. I just wanted to tell you what I Saw. I'll talk to you later, dear. Be safe! Remember the rain tomorrow!"
"Yes, ma'am. I'll talk to you later." The second he hung up, he looked up at Seokjin. "I think it's time to leave." Seokjin frowned, but followed Yoongi without complaints as he stood. "Stupid, fuckin - I'm so tired of all this shit. Let me live my god damned life." Yoongi grumbled as he tried to work his arms out of the stupid fox hoodie and walk at the same time.
"Yoongi, watch out or you'll - "
The yelp Yoongi made was embarrassing, but falling on his ass was much more so after he collided with something solid. He blinked up, confused with one arm tucked under his hoodie, at whatever he ran into. "Oh, I'm sorry!" A man with disheveled hair and big, round eyes hurried to help Yoongi up. Well. It was less helping and more grabbing him by his shoulders and hauling him up like he weighed nothing. “Are you okay? I wasn't paying any attention. Did I hurt you?"
"Uh, no," Yoongi managed. He subconsciously put his arm back in his sleeve as he stepped away from the stranger. "It's my fault, too. I wasn't watching, either. Thanks."
"Not a problem! Hyungs always say I don't pay enough attention - "
"Jungkook-ah! There you are! You're ten minutes late for your shift, I needed these cupcakes like ten minutes ago!" Hoseok's voice rang out from somewhere behind them.
"Coming, hyung!" Jungkook, apparently, called back before looking at Yoongi again. "I'm sorry again," he said as he began to move around them; eyes still somehow trained on them as he walked backwards toward the counter. "I like your hoodie, by the way!"
Yoongi tried his best not to scowl at the mention. "Thanks." He turned, ready to leave the cafe behind and never return. "C'mon, hyung. Let's go before something else decides to barrel into me today."
"There you are!" A new voice called. This one was further away, maybe in the kitchen, it was hard to tell. But it felt close. Yoongi felt something weird tug at his chest - recognition. "I've been waiting forever!"
He shook it off, though. They must have been talking to Jungkook, the absolute wall of a kid. He got a few steps closer to the door before Seokjin stopped him, "Yoongi, I think they mean you?"
Yoongi didn't even have time to feel the dread before the voice was closer, "You're him, right?"
He turned around.
Oh, he thought vaguely; awed. He's even prettier corporeal.
Honestly, sort of a lame thing to think of first when you finally meet your supposed soulmate, but Yoongi had never been particularly good at this sort of thing. Yoongi opened his mouth, to say something - anything. To try and escape, maybe. To say, yeah, apparently. To ask what he meant by that. But he just stood there, staring at the boy with familiar eyes, and an unfamiliar grin.
His hair was bright red, and his eyes were sharp and dark like that fox on the cookie, and he had a small bit of flour in his hair. "I'm Kim Taehyung!" He said.
I know, Yoongi tried to say, but couldn't.
"Man, this is sorta weird, huh? I always thought that this would be more, like. I dunno? Dramatic." Taehyung was saying, as though it was easy to just. Form words.
Seokjin, bless him, found it easy enough to as he spoke up for Yoongi, "Do you know him?"
Taehyung lit up into a grin. "Sort of! He's my soulmate!"
Yoongi vaguely heard Seokjin whisper, "Oh," behind him.
"By the way, I like your hoodie." Yoongi watched as Taehyung pointed to his apron with an impossibly wide grin; giggle in his voice as he said, "We match!" There, on one of the pockets, was a hand painted cartoon fox with a little red ribbon around its neck. This one was definitely taunting him.
"Um, yeah," Yoongi mumbled; overwhelmed. Despite all that he'd been told his whole life, he never thought he'd actually - "I'm sorry, I think I have to go."
"Yoongi, wait - “ Seokjin tried; hand outstretched to stop him, but Yoongi was already out the door.