Archive of Our Own

If there is one truth Taehyung knows the validity of, it is this: all melodies burst with colors. Blue, yellow and red. Purple on the edges, when the key changes and the tones get higher. It's like fireworks—precipitate and colorful. Vehement and passionate, but soft and gentle when it matters.

But that's exactly how Jimin is, too. How he always was, waiting for the right melody to paint with his own colors.

Waiting for Taehyung, his soulmate.

Nobody was surprised at Taehyung's decision to become a musician. A violinist, to be exact.

Even his dad—who, at first, didn't consider music a suitable career for a son of two doctors, and pure soulmates at that—patted him on the shoulder with understanding when the time came and he finally revealed to his dad what it was that he had applied for. Years later, Taehyung would think that there was really no need for him to reveal anything in the first place. Everyone knew, and perhaps it was better like that.

Paradoxically, Taehyung has never pondered over who he is as a person, what it is that makes him happy. What it is that saddens him. Where others saw grey gaps of uncertainty, Taehyung saw rainbows, blurry and dim, but colors vibrant enough for him to distinguish between the different shades. It's the colorful dreams of others that confuse him.

For some reason, everyone—his parents, his best friend, Seokjin and even his older brother—know one thing for certain: that meeting their soulmates will offer their lives a purpose, a sturdy happiness that no arrow can cut through. And call Taehyung a pessimist, but it sounds too good to be true. The best kind of impossible, so much he can't help but crave it.

His soulmate. His happiness that's lost in space, somewhere in between the colors that edge his very being.

He really wants to meet them. He can't wait to hear what melodies their hearts are retaining. 

Sitting on the sofa, one leg flopped over Seokjin's lap and head resting on his shoulder, Taehyung stares blankly at the TV. As much as he loves colors, there's something intriguing about the darkness penetrating the living room of their little apartment with not enough furniture to fill it. 

When they moved in, they planned to restock the empty spaces with shelves and pictures, things that would turn their four walls into home, but somewhere along the path life got in the way, making them busier and busier. It wasn't surprising, really. After all, Taehyung was attending one of the most prestigious music academies in Seoul and Seokjin was working his way up the corporate ladder in his father's company.

These days, when they get back home after an exhausting day, they don't mind the empty walls anymore, even if there are no pictures or decorations. All that Taehyung needs once he slumps onto the sofa is his best friend, who he knows will offer him arms to hug the exhaustion away if that's what he desires. And Taehyung shamelessly preys on that. 

Like in a trance, Taehyung draws his gaze from the TV and redirects them to Seokjin's face. He grins lopsidedly when he's once again reminded of how much his best friend reminds him of a teddy bear. Just as soft and cuddly, perhaps with more plump lips. 

"Why are you watching me?" Seokjin asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Taehyung clears his throat as he shifts in his seat. "You're pretty."

"I won't negate that, but why are you appreciating my beauty now of all times?"

"Why not?"

"Cause we're supposed to be watching a movie," Seokjin attempts to convey annoyance with his voice, but all that comes across is something warm brisking the vowels. His hands falling onto Taehyung's leg that's still stretched out over his lap doesn't help either.

Taehyung smiles faintly, the light of the TV screen illuminating their faces with gloomy white. Then, his gaze flips back to Seokjin's face on its own. 

"Hyung... what if I won't find them?"

Seokjin grimaces in confusion, straightening right away before he throws Taehyung a troubled look. 

"Wait. Stop. What caused this? You only let overthinking get to you when you're stressed. So what's the matter? How can I help?"

His eyes glimmer with gentleness alike to one bordering on love, and Taehyung drowns in the warmth that settles somewhere inside his stomach, in a place where all the love he harbors for Seokjin swells and twists in the best way possible.

"I'm—I'm not stressed. I think"

"Sure, and I'm worldwide handsome," Seokjin pouts. 

"But you do think that—"

"Details." 

Then, Seokjin's throws his arms around Taehyung and pulls him closer, so that now Taehyung's cheek is plastered to Seokjin's chest, his heartbeat slow and measured, like a rock keeping all of Taehyung's worries from shredding him to pieces. 

"What's wrong?" Seokjin puffs the words against Taehyung's hair. 

"I’m burned out."

"So it's about music?"

"Mhm." Taehyung nods. "I just... music doesn't come to me. Not anymore."

Taehyung closes his eyes as the words leave his lips, but it doesn't rid him of the despair welling inside his chest, within his bones. How he is still holding it all together is beyond him. 

"You should give it some time and—"

"But I don't have it. I don't have time," Taehyung bursts, his own hands clawing at Seokjin's soft sweater, the one they bought a couple of months ago when the winter chill began to seep through the thinner layers of fall clothes. "It's—I should be introducing my concept for the violin composition in two weeks, and my head's completely blank."

In spite of Taehyung expecting Seokjin to just hug him tighter, to squeeze all of the insecurities out of him, Seokjin dentangles his limbs from the embrace and, instead, cups Taehyung's cheeks, prodding Taehyung to look him in the eyes. 

"Do you know what one wise man one said?"

"What?"

"Don't chase after things that are meant to outrun you."

Even though the trepidation of Taehyung's heart is just as compact as ever, he chuckles under his breath, chin lowering and eyelashes covering his vision as they flap close. 

"And what does it mean, hyung?"

"That's free for you to interpret." Seokjin laughs with his eyes disappearing under folds created by his cheeks. 

Taehyung laughs too, but the sound tapers off as he presses his forehead against Seokjin's chest. It doesn't take long for Seokjin's arms to return to their previous position of embracing Taehyung. 

"So it's gonna be okay?" A whisper. 

"Of course it will. Hyung swears."

"Then I'll trust you."

When the movie finally comes to an end, loud whimpers emerging from the actress's throat after her lover dies, Taehyung is already asleep, dreaming of colors he could never describe, no matter how many pretty words he chose from. 

The thing about Taehyung and colors is fairly intriguing to say the least. He doesn't have any superpowers or extraordinary abilities. It just transpires naturally that, whatever he's thinking about, be it a number, a song or a person, mechanically ties to a shade, an impression. 

And so, Seokjin is brown. The caramel-macchiato kind of brown, sweet and fluffy like a cloud. 

Perhaps this oddity of Taehyung’s is also why he fell in love with music. But how could he not, when every melody constitutes a wide, wayward picture of a mosaic, like stained glass windows opening gradually as the notes flee from the instrument, spilling onto all the empty spaces.

The game of opalescence whenever a note emerges from underneath his bow. The rainbows within each sound, each timbre. It's beautiful. Taehyung has always been in love with pretty things, things pleasing to the eye.

Funnily enough, he doesn't like his soulmate tattoo, even though it's one of the most intricate designs he's ever seen on anyone so far. But he thinks that's exactly why he cannot bear looking at it for longer than a few seconds. Otherwise his chest starts aching with this odd pain constricting his lungs, his ribs exerting aching pressure onto the flesh. On the bad days, days he can't help but bury his nose in the crook of Seokjin's neck, he feels like he can't breathe, because—

Because he doesn't know what meaning his tattoo wields. The symbols are easy to distinguish, a treble clef sinuating like a snake upon a red flower that abandoned its one petal to hang afloat in between the drawings. Taehyung's skin looks pale against the cherry red of the tattoo, and sometimes—just sometimes, because he's by all means no masochist—he imagines his soulmate's lips to be just like that: red and plump, petal-soft under the weight of his own lips. So luscious when bitten.

So, yes. If Taehyung hates his tattoo, it's just because he yearns for all that it stands for, and regardless of how beautiful that mirage of a rosy mouth may glimmer as the sun rays fall atop, it disappears as soon as the moon climbs the sky. And Taehyung isn't good at letting things go.

He never was. 

It's late afternoon, the time of the day when the sky blanches from blue to the shade of something in between navy and pink, only the little space close to the horizon obscured by the cutting edges of skyscrapers displaying the remnants of the daylight.

Taehyung tends to forget that there is even a sky to begin with sometimes. For some reason, things here, underneath the clouds and the careless sunshine—next to buildings and flux—have a tendency to succumb to chaos. And when that happens, the only thought Taehyung’s mind can confidently grasp is not of the sky, it is the one reminding him of all the chores awaiting him the next day. It's funny how on a search for beauty we forget to look in the most obvious places. Taehyung did forget, while it was above his head all along.

Now, though, walking down the street full of people with all possible directions in mind, Taehyung steps slowly, as if he didn't normally slouch under the weight of his own thoughts and worries rushing him to finally get in and slump down onto his bed. No. Today the sky is so pretty, so oddly calming in its dim grace, and Taehyung wants to take in all the beauty he can. He can't brush off the fact that tomorrow is just one more day of practicing a composition he should have already written down by now. But maybe it's okay , crosses his mind as he bumps against someone due to his chin still being tilted heavenwards, eyes for once locked on the blue instead of what's in front of them.

After a few more steps, a shade of color, many colors, manages to catch Taehyung’s eye, and he reluctantly abandons the sky for the sake of a small flower shop, squeezed between two other shops with much more traffic. He squints as his feet take him there without much hesitation.

The first thing he sees are bouquets, dozens of them, all littering the small space in front of the shop. In the windows garlands are welcoming the curious eyes of the passersby, and Taehyung's curiosity has been piqued. But even more than that, it's the colors, an ocean of them, flowers of so many shades and shapes that his head is spinning, gloat under his eyes as if taunting him to take in their beauty, because he'll never seize it.

For a slight of a second, he wonders whether all beautiful things are cruel by definition, whether it's the part of their charm to scratch your wounds, healing them all at once.

"Can I help you?" A voice, soft but high-pitched, reaches his ears from behind. Taehyung grabs the shoulder strap of the bag hooked around his arm as it dangles, and he turns around.

Taehyung had met several people who had already found their soulmates, and all of them, Seokjin included, gushed over that first moment they saw them: sun brighter than ever, blood rushing through their veins and eyes coated with stardust as if the moon alone spilled its tears to embrace their soulmate in silvery glow.

None of that happens when Taehyung meets Jimin, even though in this moment, he doesn't even know his name. He just sees his lips, full and rosy like he wanted them to be, but now arching into a beautiful, beautiful smile. Taehyung shoots him his boxy grin in response, nose scrunching, eyebrows knitting.

A ray of sunshine blinds him for the slight of a second before he answers.

"I love your flowers."

The eyes of the man are emblazoned with mischief, a tilting smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but there's a certain awkwardness latching onto his features. Taehyung's grip on the strap of his bag tightens.

"Honey, you're not the only one."

Taehyung freezes for a moment, like a computer going black when the power gets cut off. He blinks once before he lets his confusion transform into words.

"Excuse me?"

Surely, from the outside the entire situation is but a comedy sketch when Jimin blinks away the embarrassment with his eyes rounder at the corners than before.

Taehyung fights a smile.

"Can you please forget I said that?" Jimin asks then, wiping his hand against his apron, the little that's left of the sunshine bleeding into the space around Jimin's silhouette, his petite frame lined with a golden aura.

Gold is a good color. It suits him , Taehyung thinks.

"Forget? Then why did you say it in the first place?" Taehyung chuckles light-heartedly, because really—he doesn't mind.

Jimin's gaze drops to the ground, probably admiring the one sonchus growing from within a crack on the concrete covering the street, right where the sidewalk ends.

"I get nervous... and awkward ly flirty around attractive men."

Taehyung gives himself some time to turn that information around, make it a joke and laugh it off, but none of that happens. Jimin just tilts his head as he examines something not all that interesting given his expression on the other side of the street, and Taehyung's eyes trace the bow of his nose, the lips that poke out in their plumpness. Dizziness overcomes him, but it's so confusing. All of it.

Taehyung feels like he’s whirling in all these colors, of flowers and Jimin, the man he knows nothing about.

"Already forgotten," he says instead, making sure he's sporting a smile before letting the words out.

Jimin offers him a sight bow of his head as his eyes crinkle with gratitude.

"So, the flowers! Are you looking for anything specific? Is there a special occasion or a special... someone?"

Unbelievable, Taehyung thinks to himself, but then an elbow digs into his tummy as someone passes them by, a grimace warping his face into one full of lines and wrinkles. Jimin sends the back of the passer-by a stinky look.

"Are you perhaps trying to find out if I'm single?" Taehyung laughs nevertheless, patting the spot that still pulsates a little after the blow.

"I promise I’m usually I'm better at this."

"Are you sure?"

Jimin rolls his eyes playfully. He steps closer to Taehyung, a distance of a good one meter still in the way of... Taehyung isn't sure yet, but he wouldn't mind finding out.

"Well," Jimin starts, swaying on his heels, "I've never gotten turned down so far. This counts for something, right?"

"Never?" Disbelief is laced with Taehyung's words, but then, is he really all that surprised? Jimin's so full of colors, so beautiful. Full of melodies Taehyung doesn't hear yet, but hopes to do so soon enough.

"Never." Jimin crosses his arms on his chest, arching his back with pride. Taehyung laughs wholeheartedly under Jimin’s scrutinizing gaze.

"And why do you think that is, hm?"

"That's easy." Jimin shrugs. "It's thanks to my exceptional flirting skills."

"I think it's the looks."

"Is this your way of telling me I'm handsome?"

"Beautiful. I would say beautiful."

Because Jimin is, and Taehyung has always been weak for beautiful things. He hopes, he hopes so very much that at least this time, there is nothing cruel etched into the flawless appearance of the plush lips and sharp jawline, of the man who looks like one Taehyung may fall for if he wasn’t cautious.

And while Taehyung loses himself in the lull admiration of Jimin's face, a fire, a glint of something mischievous and dangerous sparks within Jimin's irises. Something prompting Taehyung to budge, sort his aimless thoughts and focus on the flame making his skin swelter.

"Have you found anything you like?" Jimin says then all of a sudden, and they both know far too well that it's not the bouquets he's addressing.

Let's play, Taehyung decides.

"Maybe."

"I think I have an idea of what it is."

It's almost twilight now, the sun drowning Jimin in gold tapering off like water flowing down the drain. Jimin shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and Taehyung knows that it's just another sign of how much they both want to get closer, pulled towards one another like magnets, as insane as it is.

But Taehyung wants to play, wants to tease the man he can't get his eyes off of. He wants to revel in every second as if it was his last, because even so, in the last light of the day with colors washed out and bleeding into grey, Taehyung still thinks it may be one of the most beautiful moments he’s lived through.

"I doubt that."

Taehyung smiles.

"Do you—"

"Can I get this bouquet in the back?" Taehyung points in the direction he means. Jimin rids his face of any expression, features completely blank. "The one with red chrysanthemums."

Watching the lines of Jimin beautiful face twist and turn until there's a strained smile plastered atop must count as one of the funniest experiences Taehyung has any memory of.

"Sure," Jimin answers before he moves to the back. Taehyung follows, because he wants to tease the other some more, and then Jimin bends, stretching out his arm to get a hold of the bouquet, the sleeve of his sweater inching upwards, right till it reaches the inflection of his arm, and—

God.

God.

Fucking fuck.

Is this?

It is.

It must be.

Taehyung glances down to where he knows his own tattoo is safely covered with the sleeves of his flowery shirt, then looks back to Jimin's revealed skin. The ink.

The spiralling treble clef and a red flower, a just as red petal lingering in between.

It's the tattoo he imprinted onto his skull, now even visible with his eyes closed. But seeing the identical design on a skin that isn't his, an arm that doesn't belong to him? He doesn't know—he can't think. There's just white noise. All colors, all at once, hitting his eyes with the intensity of thousands of suns, and maybe, just maybe he realizes that others were wrong, because the moon isn't the one that accompanies the first moment you see your soulmate.

It's the light. The sun. A dozen rainb ows, too, because colors feel alive when you're looking the rest of your life straight in the face.

"Fuck."

"Huh?" Jimin swivels on his heel, the bouquet of chrysanthemums clutched in his hand. He looks utterly confused at the sight of the wide, wide grin that appeared on Taehyung's face, the corners of his lips pulled almost painfully away from one another.

"It's you."

The few steps keeping them apart are crossed by Jimin who promptly walks closer to Taehyung with a worried expression on his face.

"Are you okay? Do you want to get you some water?"

At first, Taehyung wants to explain, but really... how could one explain that they've been waiting for this moment to finally happen ever since they can remember. You can't. Not without it sounding completely fake and ingenuine, and Taehyung doesn't want that.

So he does the first thing that comes to his mind. He pulls at his sleeve until it reveals most of his lower arm, the motion drawing Jimin's attention. Initially, he just watches with a worried crease on his forehead, but then, as soon as the tattoo catches his eye, the colors drain from his face. Pale and shocked, that's how he looks when he lifts his gaze to meet Taehyung's eyes.

But Taehyung's past the shock. All he feels is happiness, the euphoria of rainbows gliding down his spine, painting his heart in reds and yellows. He grins even wider, smiles so hard it hurts. Jimin's lip part in stun.

"It's you ." A whisper.

"It's you ," Taehyung forces out, the vowels not sounding right due to the smile contorting his face.

Jimin's hands find footing in Taehyung's chest as he miraculously appears right in front of Taehyung, only inches away. Taehyung cups the upper side of Jimin's hands with his palm, squeezes them gently, taking everything in, the blonde of Jimin's hair. The brown of his eyes, golden brush of his skin.

Jimin is a rainbow. A mosaic of colors, and only Taehyung can render them visible.

"I waited for you. I waited all this time."

Jimin's head dips, forehead pressed against Taehyung's throat until Taehyung can't hold back anymore and lets his arms embrace the man in front of him. He inadvertently prods Jimin to hook his chin over his shoulder, his own arms snaking around Taehyung's waist, as he pulls him closer, as close as he can get.

Taehyung breathes in when the tip of his nose gets buried somewhere in between Jimin's hair, and—

He smells like flowers.

"Now you don't have to wait anymore. I've got you." Taehyung's breath fans the top of Jimin's head. He feels Jimin smile against his neck.

"You've got me."

"Forever."

"Forever."

It sounds like a promise.

Amid the colors bursting open right under his eyelids, like fireworks, Taehyung doesn't mind promising someone a forever without knowing their name.

He promises Jimin forever after all. Time is all they have. An abundance of it. 

It feels strange having found what you sought to look for until your last breath. Mentally, Taehyung prepared himself for the painstaking journey of disappointment and hope when his heart allowed it, but even so, he saved his breaths, kept them shallow to make sure that when the time came to look his soulmate in the eye, he'd still be there to witness it with all force.

But now? Thinking about no more chasing after anything, anyone... it's confusing. How can he handle facing everything when all he knew so far was emptiness that was cast by the nothing of it.

Unfortunately, there is no handbook on how to deal with finding your soulmate, because in most cases, no instruction is necessary. That's why they call them soulmates. They should be able to figure it out by themselves. Taehyung isn't sure how to figure out a simple melody for his performance, not to mention solving the uncanny mystery of human hearts.

Thus, he does what he thinks is best at. He takes things easy. Slow. Incredulously slow.

After the hug, and some tears spilling onto their rosy cheeks, Taehyung, still with a smile, finally asked Jimin for his name, first introducing himself with a light bow. He didn't know where to look at, how to rid himself of that odd sense of awkwardness and uncertainty that washed over him the moment the colors left, filtering down into the dusk-like shades encapsulating the buildings around them.

Was he supposed to hug Jimin again? Profess his love and devotion? Cry until there are no tears left?

He deemed examining his shoes a safer option. Not more than a few minutes later they said their goodbyes, promising to meet again as soon as their schedules allow it, and while Taehyung still finds himself buzzing with excitement at the mere scenario of him and Jimin meeting, he can't help but worry. Knowing that they've been made for each other pressures him into believing that they're perfect in all the ways that matter in terms of their relationship. But Taehyung knows better. He memorized his flaws by heart, he probably could enumerate all of them in the middle of the night, half asleep.

What if they're not perfect enough? What if he isn't?

And so, when they finally see each other again exactly three days later, Taehyung stalls before leaving home. Seokjin's at the company, working overtime again, and when the half-light of the hallway seems to loom upon Taehyung's head, he thinks maybe all of this is just a bad idea overall. Maybe soulmates are just an overrated concept that no longer has a place in the modern society where—

And that's when he sees him. Jimin.

He's wearing black slacks and a white button up, his blonde hair ruffly as if tugged by the wind, but Taehyung knows that's the result Jimin was going for. His outfit is simple, posture slacked as he keeps his hands pocketed in the confines of the pockets inside his black coat. Jimin looks attractive, yes, but he's still just a person, someone who Taehyung would look at for a little longer when passing him by on a street, but still, just a person.

Now, Taehyung glances at him and he sees someone who was made to be his, just as he was made to be Jimin's instead.

He sees his future glimmering with colors and flowers which of the petals scatter the ground beneath his feet. He hears melodies and feels warmth exuded by the mere thought of Jimin, and while all of it feels better than anything he's ever experienced, it's overwhelming. Not scary, because even now, it being their second meeting, he knows that Jimin wants him, much like he wants Jimin.

Just overwhelming.

With a little hesitance, he approaches Jimin and, after a hug during which their arms linger on the body of the other for some time, probably longer than necessary, they enter the restaurant, filling the silence with small talk and the regular questions that are meant to get them acquainted.

"So you associate colors with everything?" Jimin asks at some point after Taehyung had explained to him the deeds of seeing melodies like paintings inside his head.

In response, Taehyung nods, hand sliding up the table to brush against Jimin's knuckles.

"What color am I?" Taehyung isn't sure if the smiles Jimin gifts him throughout the entire evening are just as special as they feel to him, as if they were designed the way only his heart could comprehend their true beauty with Jimin's eyes crinkling like scrambled paper, bright and happy. So happy.

"Yellow."

"Really?" Jimin asks with surprise. "What shade?"

Taehyung smiles under his breath before he leans forward, perching his elbows on the table to lace his fingers in front of his lips, a pensive look overcoming his face.

"Do you know this one moment right when the sun is setting and the last rays of sunshine spill all over the sky? This one, volatile moment in between the grey shade of the twilight and the blue of the afternoon. You're like that."

Jimin's hand with his fingers holding the chopstick freezes in mid-air, as he, too, utterly stunned, just looks at Taehyung as if he saw him for the first time.

Before things get too awkward again, Taehyung changes the topic.

Outside, they go as far as a few meters before they come to a halt. It feels like neither of them really wants the evening to end. Taehyung just smiles at every taxi that drives past them, otherwise focused on Jimin and Jimin only.

Jimin.

He's still nervous, always waiting for a slip up that would show Jimin just how imperfect Taehyung is for him. How many flaws Taehyung has on display without trying to hide them all that hard. But it never happens.

And so, when Jimin inches closer, his eyes flicking down to Taehyung's lips, he prepares himself for the colors to embrace him again.

When they kiss, it's like fireworks. They kiss in green and red, Jimin biting Taehyung's bottom lip with a sting of blue to it. They paint each other, leave traces of purple where Jimin's fingers clutch at Taehyung's hip bones.

And if they go home together, naked skin like flower petals touched by the brush of their little love tying their souls together, then maybe that's okay too.

Yes, they do have all the time in the world, but Taehyung realizes that there are things that don't require temporizing.

And then—then, he just loves.

It's been two weeks since Taehyung accepted Jimin into his heart, many nights and dates together filling up the bigger half of these fourteen days. Taehyung doesn't remember what his life looked like without Jimin in it, and frankly, he isn't curious anymore given the seconds before Jimin might as well not have existed in the first place. Might have not elapsed, time might have not passed.

In the orange light of the lamp in the hallway, Taehyung throws his coat on and fixes the turtle neck collar that got too high up his chin, watching his every move in the mirror hanging on the wall. Seokjin's slim silhouette emerges from behind the edge of his reflection. Right before he speaks, Taehyung discerns something resembling disappointment plastered on his best friend's face.

He faces him.

"Taehyung-ah, are you leaving already?" Seokjin asks feigning nonchalance. "I was hoping we could watch something together. I even ordered us Chinese."

Seokjin's eyes are round at the edges, curves moulded by tinges of hope that Taehyung is aware of first when Seokjin comes closer where the orange glow of the lamp can reach him. He leans his weight against the wall, folding his hands together behind his back.

"I'm sorry, hyung. I already have plans."

"Don't sweat it." Seokjin's head drops, as a faint smile tugs at his lips. "I just miss having you around. It's been ages since we last hung out."

"It hasn't been that long."

One gloomy look from Seokjin shuts Taehyung up.

"I'm sorry. I've just been busy."

Now Taehyung, too, lets his eyes fixate on the wooden tiles underneath his socked feet. He hears Seokjin chuckle before he sees it when he dares a look at his friend.

"Hyung's not upset, Taehyung-ah. Just a little worried."

Taehyung deflates at that, more confused than anything else.

"Worried? About me? But... why?"

Seokjin shakes his head once a laugh pours out from his lips. Even his shoulders tremble slightly. Taehyung wonders what is so funny about this conversation. He feels like he's missing something.

"Cause you're disappearing all the time and for some reason, you never explain where it is you're rushing to. And I know we're not family, at least not by blood, so I can't demand the right to question you, but—"

Taehyung exhales.

"I found them. My soulmate."

Seokjin's eyes become two coins, round and glassy with excitement, while Taehyung shifts his weight from one leg to the other, trying to battle the ball of nervousness lodging itself into the pit of his stomach.

"You—you did? But why didn't you tell me? That's amazing, Tae!"

It's in Seokjin's eyes, always the eyes, where Taehyung can decipher whatever mood his friend is in, and this time, he can, too. Seokjin's happy for him. So perfectly happy.

When Seokjin offers him an affectionate smile, Taehyung knows they're okay.

"He's the best," Taehyung answers, his eyes lighting up at the bare mention of Jimin. "And I think—is it too early to call it love?"

"How would I know," Seokjin laughs. "I'm not even sure when you met, remember? You kept it hidden from me."

"Oh. Two weeks."

The smile on Seokjin's lips falters, while Taehyung notices through the window in the living room that it started to snow. How fitting , he thinks.

"I'm sorry for not telling you." He means it.

"It's okay. I told you I'm not upset... but, why didn't you?"

Taehyung takes a minute to really think about it, because... why didn't he?

"It's still so new to me," he answers finally, rubbing at his neck as it warms up from embarrassment. "Having Jimin by my side is one thing, but seeing him as someone constant who I will spend my life with? That's scary."

"Scary?"

"Well, not scary. It's just so… huge!" Taehyung gesticulates with his hands to emphasize the meaning behind his words. "Coming to terms with finding the one person who fits you so well... don't you think it's intimidating? Telling the world about it—" A pause. "I'm scared."

Seokjin pulls himself off the wall and makes the few steps of space that created a safe distance. That is now gone. Out of nowhere, Taehyung feels Seokjin's hand cradling his arm.

"I understand. I felt a little like that too when I first met Namjoon."

"You did?"

"Mhm." Seokjin nods with a fond smile, voice laced with sweetness that can only accompany the name of a loved one that is about to roll off his tongue. "In fact, when I first saw his tattoo matching mine... I ran for my life. I came back two weeks later. I was so lucky that he worked at that bookstore and wasn't just a customer. I might have never seen him again."

"No way." A bubbly laugh settles in Taehyung's throat.

"I swear. It just felt—how did I say it? Huge. Facing your soulmate may feel like you have to be perfect to satisfy their vision of you, but they're your soulmate for a reason, you know? Namjoon is clumsy and rambles a lot whenever he gets nervous, but that's exactly when I love him the most. And sure, telling people seems just as huge, but you know what, Taehyung-ah? You can just tell them together and then, carry that weight between the two of you, share it."

Taehung doesn't know he's crying until Seokjin's thumb hurries to wipe his cheeks.

"Have I ever told you you're the best hyung under the sun?" Taehyung forces the words out in spite of the clump clogging his throat. Seokjin just smiles when he hears his voice crack.

"No. You never tell me things like that."

"Then maybe it's time to start."

"Maybe it is."

At nine in the evening, Jimin's phone buzzes on his coffee table. He negligently throws a look at the time, wondering when Taehyung is gonna arrive, but then, he glances down to the message and he knows he's not coming.

Can't meet today! Watching Casablanca with Seokjin hyung! I'll give you all the kisses you want tomorrow morning when I'll come bearing gifts (breakfast and me) <3

Jimin smiles at the screen. 

Six months. 182.5 days. 4,380 hours. 262,800 minutes.

Jimin never knew numbers could have that big of a gravity. How a number of seconds could diminish his entire life before them as if he wasn't even living to begin with.

Was he, though? Was he living before he met Taehyung? From today's perspective he doesn't think he was. Perhaps he still isn't, the only moments of existence not tainted by numbness being the ones spent on kissing Taehyung, watching him get excited over flower-patterned clothes. Watching him live to the fullest.

Sometimes, Jimin wonders if that's what loving someone feels like. If it isn't just living through someone, sharing breaths when your lips brush, drinking in the longing gazes and the looks who are focused on things other than you. Maybe loving is just about nourishing the little life of yours as you admire someone else doing it, too. Colors and sounds mixing up, everything so much alive Jimin doesn't know how so much life can transpire all at the same time. How they can coexist and still burst in its very essence.

But maybe he's just overthinking. Making it far more complicated than it truly is.

He laughs to himself as he adjusts his tie, the Jimin in the mirror so far from the regular version of him, now in a black suit smooth to the touch instead of a t-shirt and skinny jeans. He looks handsome when he's smiling. Beautiful, Taehyung would say. He got used to that word ever since Taehyung persisted to call him that every chance he got.

When they're together, Jimin can almost believe him. Maybe sometimes, he even does.

The way to the auditorium passes quickly. Thankfully, the traffic isn't too crowded, and the lights happen to turn green whenever he gets closer to the junction. He's not nervous, doesn't understand why he should be, but even so, there is a pile of tangled strings lingering in the one spot inside his stomach, the tug bearable, but confusing all the same.

When he arrives, he breathes in and out before he drags himself out of the car. Outside, he's met with other people, all in fancy dresses and suits, even the little ones. Passing a toddler fiddling with the red bow tie he evidently isn't fond of, Jimin smiles to himself.

For a second, he thinks about red and what Taehyung would say if he mentioned the color. Jimin never really understood how a person can be associated with a color or shade, nor how a song can be painted in hues. Rationality is what he's good at. He likes to tie reasons and effects together, enjoys seeing the causality do its thing when logic is of desire. But art? Or not art even, but the colors Taehyung is so obviously full of that he sees them in every little thing surrounding him.

Jimin has never seen them, the yellow Taehyung told him he oozes or the brown of Seokjin who by now had become a good friend of Jimin's, too. But he wishes he could. Just for a second. Just to see the world through the eyes of someone who is so bewitched by it.

He finds the way to his seat without any problems, so when he patiently waits for the concert to start and the lights dim all of a sudden, he gulps. The lady next to him claps, her lips crimson and jarring in the failing light.

And then it starts. Some melodies touching, others not so much, but Jimin respectfully claps along after every musician who leaves the stage. What surprises him is that every student of the academy introduces their piece beforehand which makes it so much more pleasant to listen to, knowing that a melody was devoted to someone's parents who the student was grateful for.

Just when he's about to start evaluating how many performances there are left before it's Taehyung's turn, he notices a familiar face climbing the stage, a shiny violin already placed in the middle. Jimin takes a deep breath, trying to comfort both of them. That's not how it works, but for now, he prefers to delude himself into believing it does.

Taehyung walks over to the microphone closer to the edge of the stage and squints, scanning the audience. Only then does Jimin realize Taehyung is looking for him.

What a shame he didn't tell Taehyung to search for the one person with the widest grin.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Kim Taehyung and this piece is dedicated to my soulmate. It's called Sing Me A Rainbow ."

Jimin has never seen Taehyung so confident as when he moves towards the violin and places it on his shoulder. Then, the bow glides along the strings, and Jimin closes his eyes.

He never understood it. The colors. They seemed too fleeting for him to grasp, but now, with the soft melody electrifying the air, he thinks that maybe, finally, he does.

When Taehyung told that one night during their first date that Jimin was like yellow, it was hard for him to get his head around the idea that he could ever resemble something as beautiful as the shade of the sunset Taehyung described. He's practical and devoid of the ability to see the beauty in everything, something that comes to Taehyung so naturally.

Then, when he opens his eyes, Taehyung is drenched in love. Jimin never expected it to look like a rainbow.

He should have.