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It’s strange, this feeling of missing someone he’s never met.
Namjoon opens the door to the hospital ward and enters, settling down beside the only bed in the room. The boy is still unconscious, eyes closed in a deep sleep. The sunlight streaming in from the open window blurs his figure into the sterile whiteness of the hospital walls, casting him in a ghostly, faded light. Namjoon doesn’t know the boy. They would have been strangers, if not for the fact that the compass on Namjoon’s wrist had spun resolutely in his direction and led Namjoon here.
“Your compass will lead you to your soulmate someday.” Namjoon still remembers his mother’s words. “And it will be the happiest day of your life.”And Namjoon’s heard stories, about how people met their soulmates and their compasses stopped spinning and it felt like they had found their other half, how sparks flew and fireworks exploded.
So he hadn’t really expected to find the sleeping boy in the hospital room, ethereal and untouchable, wires and machines the only tether he had to his life. It had been a car accident, the doctor and his tearful parents had informed him, upon seeing the compass on his wrist. He was in a coma and they didn’t know when he would wake up. And Namjoon had nodded numbly and for some reason, sat down beside him and stayed by his bedside the entire night. He wasn’t sure why; all he knew of the boy was his name, and he had read that off the tag on his hospital bed: Kim Seokjin. All Namjoon knew was that he wanted to be near him, and he wanted to wait for him to wake up, wanted to learn firsthand what his voice sounded like and the exact colour of his eyes.
It had been about a week since then, and Namjoon had kept vigil at Seokjin’s bedside whenever he didn’t have college classes or plans. It was hard to explain; it was just that whenever he took Seokjin’s hand, the needles on their compasses swerved to point towards each other, and something about that made him stay, made him spend nights and days by Seokjin’s side. It really was the strangest feeling; he didn’t know the first thing about this boy, yet he missed him like he’d never missed anyone before.
***
“Namjoon-ah, I hate to say this, but maybe you should stop going to see Seokjin.” Yoongi takes a swig of his beer and leans back against a fondly exasperated Jimin. Namjoon finds it funny sometimes, how someone like Yoongi, rough around the edges and knives under his skin, had ended up with a soulmate like Jimin, who smiled and lived and loved with his heart on his sleeve. But the two fit oddly together, with Yoongi’s sharp tongue and Jimin’s soft words, in a way that makes Namjoon’s heart constrict with longing. “You know, try to end it early. He might not...well, wake up, and you’ve been going there for, what, a month?” Jimin turns to Yoongi with a horrified look, but his bluntness doesn’t faze Namjoon. He shrugs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “It’s not- I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like- you wouldn’t give up if it was Jimin right?”
“Of course not,” Yoongi replies sharply. “But you don’t even know this dude-”
“I know what I’m doing, Yoongi. Please.”
***
The next time Namjoon goes to the hospital, he finds three boys already there, standing solemnly at Seokjin’s bedside. One of them is arranging flowers in a vase on the side table, and the other two are holding hands in comfort. Namjoon approaches them hesitantly.
“Um. Hi.” He cringes at his own awkwardness as they look up at him, startled and slightly questioning, no doubt wondering who he was. “I’m, uh, Seokjin’s soulmate?” It was the first time he said the words aloud, and Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat.
“Ah, Jin-hyung’s found his soulmate?” A boy with auburn hair exclaims, surprisingly loudly. He strides quickly up to Namjoon and gives him a once-over, glaring at him sharply before a huge grin spreads over his face and he holds out his hand. “Kim Taehyung! I’m Seokjin’s brother! I didn’t know he’s already found his soulmate, hyung never tells me anything! What’s your name?” The boy-- Taehyung, apparently-- is speaking a mile a minute, and Namjoon’s mind whirls to catch up. “Uh, Kim Namjoon,” he replies hesitantly, as Taehyung shakes his hand vigorously. The boy who had been holding Taehyung's hand walks up to them and gently pries Taehyung off of Namjoon, smiling wryly and gesturing at himself then at the other guy behind them. “I’m Jungkook. That’s Hoseok. Please don’t mind Tae, he can be...overwhelming.” Jungkook threads his fingers through Taehyung’s again, and Namjoon watches as their compass needles swing towards each other. “This boy...I don’t know how he can still be so happy like this,” Hoseok laughs weakly and joins the gathering, smacking Taehyung lightly on the back of his head. Taehyung scowls and bats Hoseok away. “Because hyung will wake up!”
Namjoon stares at Taehyung and quietly chokes out, “how do you know?”
“Hyung would never abandon me in this cruel, cruel world! Besides,” Taehyung strikes a dramatic pose. “He promised to treat me to ice cream!” This time, when Taehyung smiles up at Namjoon, there’s something a little sad in the curve of his mouth, and Namjoon smiles back.
***
Days and weeks bleed together into one colourful mess, and Namjoon finds himself stepping over the threshold of Seokjin’s hospital room for the thousandth time. He’s been coming whenever college lets up for a bit, just to sit by Seokjin’s side, watch him breathe, and hope he will keep breathing. Namjoon wonders about the boy with pale skin and closed eyes, thinks about how they might fit together like misshapen puzzle pieces.
Once, Seokjin’s family stop him on his way to Seokjin’s room, and their gazes are worried and regretful as his mother takes Namjoon’s hands and clasps them in apology.
“It’s been almost six months, Namjoon. You’re a good boy, and I don’t want to see you suffer. We’ll give it time...but if too much time passes, we might have to...pull the plug. We’ve discussed with the doctor. I hope you understand, but I think you should stop coming to see him.”
Namjoon is numb. His hands are cold and limp where Seokjin’s mother grasps them tightly, pleadingly. He thinks about Seokjin asleep just beyond the hospital ward door, how his chest is still rising and falling and he is still taking in breath, and how he should have a chance to keep breathing and keep living.
“Please,” Namjoon’s voice breaks. “Let me stay with him.”
Behind Seokjin’s parents, Taehyung is scowling at their backs but beaming at Namjoon, and Namjoon feels the tiniest bit better.
***
Namjoon falls asleep in the chair next to Seokjin’s bed, and he dreams.
He’s in an unfamiliar bedroom and he’s sitting on an unfamiliar bed, and Seokjin’s asleep in the bed. He’s murmuring in his sleep and the compass needle on his wrist spins to face Namjoon as he reaches for his hand. “Where are you?” He whispers, and he sounds afraid, and Namjoon is quick to wrap his hand around Seokjin’s and run a reassuring hand along his back.
“It’s dark. I’m scared. I want to wake up, Namjoon.”
“Shhh, it’s okay, you’ll wake up soon, I promise.”
“Will you be here?”
“I’ll stay with you until you wake up.”
***
The next morning, Namjoon is roused from sleep by Seokjin’s hand closing around his wrist, and he watches with wide, fearful eyes as Seokjin’s eyelids flutter and finally open. His gaze travels to Namjoon’s face, and he smiles, and his eyes are the colour of melted chocolate, his smile crinkles the lines around his eyes, and Namjoon’s heart hurts in the best way possible.
Even as doctors swarm the room and fuss over Seokjin, helping him sit up and calling his family and friends, Seokjin tightens his grip on Namjoon’s wrist and whispers, “thank you for staying with me.”