Chapter Text
The Kim Academy of the Arts was the most notorious school in Seoul. Whilst it churned out incredibly talented young men, it was equally as famous for being a place where ‘survival of the fittest’ was the unspoken law. Of course the Academy had enough money and influence that the confessions of ex-students were silenced before they ever reached the media, but they could never quell the mysterious rumours.
Namjoon was well aware of the true nature of the Academy since on his first day of classes he had been officially named the ‘bottom of the ladder’ and therefore fresh meat. With his large glasses, acne prone skin and uniforms that hid absolutely none of the chubbiness of his body, he was an obvious target.
However you would never know to look at him.
Every day he practically skipped in to school, his smile wide as he opened his locker. He’d greet everyone and bow to the older students respectfully despite the disgusted sneers they directed at him.
Because Namjoon may not have looked like an angel, but he had a heart more precious than sapphire.
What was it that gave him this confidence?
His soulmark. Or rather, his desire to prove his soulmark wrong.
Long shirts were mandatory school attire, but Namjoon could clearly picture the words beneath the sleeves. Six different phrases.
‘Did you seriously think you could be accepted?’.
‘Useless pig’
‘What was that supposed to be?’
‘You call this art?’
‘You’ll never amount to anything’
‘You disgust me’
Namjoon wouldn’t let his soulmates believe that his image was all he had.
So despite the fake rumours about him, the taunting words and the regular beatings, Namjoon focussed on what he was here at the Academy to do.
To become the most beautiful writer and composer the world had ever seen, and after he had mastered these disciplines, create something worthy of his soulmates.
Namjoon had been attending the Academy for 9 months when he witnessed the arrival of angels.
Supposedly Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook were the most talented actors, dancers and singers to enter in to the school. They were also a soulmate group who were looking for their seventh member.
Upon first sight as they strolled through the corridors, jackets strewn artfully across their shoulders and wearing the uniform like it was designer, Namjoon had felt the breath leave his chest.
They were beautiful. As beautiful as angels, and just as untouchable.
Ironic that these gorgeous creations would be HIS soulmates.
After a few weeks of drooling in class at the sight of their performances and salivating even more during mandatory P.E lessons where those gorgeous thighs and sculpted muscles were shown off on the track, Namjoon was hopelessly and utterly besotted.
So when he came out to recess one day and saw students clustered around a notice with their handwriting (which he totally had not memorised) he was undeniably eager.
‘The most popular group in school are hosting an audition’ one boy squeaked.
‘For the end of year performance showcase they need a composer to create the soundtrack!’
A composer!
This was his moment.
For the next two weeks before the audition Namjoon barely focussed on his studies, uncaring if his grades fell. He was going to finally prove to everyone how talented he was. He tested each note for the sweetest octave, and changed the pace and pitch over a hundred times, until he had created a melody so sweet it made his mother weep uncontrollably for an hour.
On the day of the audition he combed his hair and tried to put on his most flattering uniform shirt, despite their being few, and polished his shoes till his palms ached.
As one, he filed with the contestants on to the auditorium stage where they would be given the comments from the group, who were seated in the first row, having heard each piece individually overnight.
Shuffling in his place, Namjoon listened to the comments as they went down the line.
‘I know you tried really hard Min, but unfortunately it just wasn’t the style we were going for. Great job though!’ Taehyung gushed.
‘You were so close!’ Hoseok had consoled.
‘The pace of your piece was just a bit too slow for dance,’ Seokjin had admitted.
‘Not quite right, but keep working on it, I’m sure you’ll be great some day,’ Jimin had murmured.
And so with bated breath, Namjoon waited for them to comment on his work.
‘And lastly, the piece titled, ‘Black Swan’.
Namjoon stepped proudly forward.
Silence.
Silence broken by a huffed laugh a pointed stare.
‘You call this art?’ Yoongi stated evenly, his cold gaze tearing in to Namjoon’s soul.
‘Yes,’ Namjoon bravely stated.
Silence for a few more moments, before Seokjin took over.
‘What was that supposed to be? It belongs in the trash, just like you’.
‘Did you seriously think you could be accepted?’ Jimin added smugly.
Namjoon felt as though his insides were being slow roasted and the tears were threatening to break free down his cheeks, but he forced himself to answer the question. His work had been good, he would not be ashamed.
‘Yes, I did,’ he said.
Immediately the whole auditorium burst out in laughter, cutting Namjoon’s heart to the core.
Wiping his eyes with a grin full of mirth, Hoseok finally spoke, ‘You’ll never amount to anything with work like that. By now the whole school has heard your pathetic composition’.
‘Now they know just what a useless pig you are,’ Taehyung added breathlessly.
Namjoon’s gaze turned to Jungkook, the tears no longer held back as his eyes pled for the youngest to be his salvation, to climb on to the stage and tell him it was all a joke.
His next words shattered the illusion.
‘You disgust me. With that oily skin and badly cut hair and those ugly glasses. And don’t get me started about what a pig you are, we all know how much you stuff your face and waddle around bigger than a pregnant woman. You’re a stain on human eyes, and you know what happens to stains? Those who are better destroy them’.
Namjoon wished he could speak, but the words wouldn’t come as easily as the waterfall of tears did. ‘Those who were better’ didn’t have to destroy him. These people already had.
His dignity and pride in tatters, Namjoon sprinted from the room to the symphony of jeering calls and laughter.
Later that night he rocked back and forth on his bedroom floor, the tears still falling on his num skin as white fingers clutched his phone, replaying the recording of the scene over and over again.
‘Did you seriously think you could be accepted?’.
‘Useless pig’
‘What was that supposed to be?’
‘You call this art?’
‘You’ll never amount to anything’
‘You disgust me’
His soulmark burned, and he was just beginning to realise the significance of those words. He had found his soulmates, and they were disgusted with him.
‘I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’ll do better,’ the mantra didn’t end until he passed out from exhaustion with the break of dawn.