Work Text:
Yoongi had made his shop harder to find than it needed to be - and his services more expensive than they needed to be, for that matter - very much on purpose. His customers had to be determined to see things through to the bitter end, and able to extinguish any remaining doubts they had, to get all the way to Yoongi’s shop and make use of his services. Yoongi fed the neighborhood alleycats generously, and befriended the flock of crows that hung out in the scrubby pine trees that grew along the side of the cluster of buildings his shop was ensconced within, so anyone who wound through the gauntlet all the way back to the dark and unwelcoming front door of his shop would be watched as they walked by many pairs of eyes from the ground, the eaves, the trees, and many niches and alcoves on all sides.
Nevertheless, sometimes his services were called upon. On one particular day, a woman parked on the street just outside the alley, and holding a thickly stuffed white envelope in one hand, started marching grimly down it. She slowed slightly once she’d made it past the first turn, at which point the narrow, isolated, shady passageway suddenly seemed like something from a slightly alternate universe. A black cat hopped down from a windowsill, meowed at her in a distinctly derogatory tone, and trotted away. Something rustled up at the roof level. The sound of dripping water came from around another corner. Each facet of each building she passed seemed to have been built by a different person in a different era: cast concrete gave way to brick gave way to faded and cracked wooden paneling gave way to corrugated steel, with no window or door that pierced these walls in the same style or dimensions as any other. Vines grew up some walls, tree branches hung down against others, and many weeds sprouted from between the cobblestones she walked over.
But she ignored these discouraging and unsettling details, and continued back and around and then she reached the door she had been expecting: dark brown, unmarked, with a tiled overhang. The walls on either side were dark stucco, the windows covered up with wooden shutters. She glanced up, seeing no lights on in the two tiny windows on the second floor either - but she did see several crows in the tree that loomed over the building.
She reached out and knocked.
“Come in!” a man’s voice answered instantly from within.
She pressed the old-fashioned cast-iron latch and opened the dark door. At least there was a light on inside. A yellowish light that shone from a domed light fixture on the low ceiling and illuminated a very crowded room, and a man wearing a cardigan over a tee and jeans sitting on a wooden rolling chair in the middle of it all.
“Are you Yoongi?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
Yoongi waited patiently as she blinked in the doorway, taking in the interior of the shop. It was small, and quite full, with display cases on two of the walls and dozens of small framed paintings on the others, like a version of a Victorian-era Wunderkammer downsized to fit in less than ten square meters. Yoongi sat at his desk on one side, which had a tall set of built-in shelves at its back, stuffed with numerous notebooks and reference manuals. There was a little circular table between himself and the door, which had a few lidded ceramic canisters on it, and a somewhat threadbare armchair in front of it.
“Please, take a seat,” he said, prompting his customer to unfreeze and take the two steps necessary to get herself from the doorway to the chair.
The heavy door thumped itself shut behind her. She didn’t glance back at it, but merely sat down as directed, putting the envelope in her lap and keeping her eyes on Yoongi.
“I’m Haerin,” she said. “We’ve been emailing.”
Yoongi nodded.
“I figured,” he said. “You’ve decided to go through with it?”
“Yes,” she said determinedly, though she did sigh just a little when she put the envelope on the round table.
Yoongi picked it up, felt the thickness, opened up the top and rifled through the bills quickly with the tip of one finger.
“I need you to say it out loud,” he said quietly as he counted the money, “just to confirm.”
Haerin took a deep breath.
“I want you to cut my soulmate string,” she intoned, hands clasped in her lap.
Once Yoongi had confirmed that all fifteen million won were present as agreed, he couldn’t help but notice the slightly-lighter band of skin at the base of her fourth finger on her left hand. At least ten years of wearing a ring there, he estimated.
“Alright,” Yoongi said mildly. “And you understand that it’s permanent?”
“I understand it’s permanent,” she repeated slightly impatiently.
“Very well,” he said.
Yoongi put the envelope of money into the top drawer of his desk. Then he wiped his palms on his thighs, and reached for the polished wooden box that was kept in its own special alcove at the bottom of the shelves atop his desk. He pulled the box towards himself until it was centered on the desk, then he carefully opened it.
Inside, nestled in the velvet that lined the shallow bottom, were his pure silver shears. He had cast, polished, and enchanted them himself, after years of study. Silver didn’t hold an edge very well, but it didn’t have to: in this case, the important thing was for it to hold magic instead. Not to mention, Yoongi used these shears less than a dozen times per year. He always sharpened them in front of his customers right before he used them - yet another chance for them to develop cold feet.
Haerin, however, simply watched in a detached manner as he pulled out his sharpening kit, unscrewed the blades from each other, and and carefully swiped the gleaming silver cutting edges along the whetstones once he’d prepared them. She was still just as calm and determined several minutes later, once he’d cleaned up and put away the whetstones, and wiped off and reassembled his shears. Yoongi put his hands through the handles and gave them two experimental cuts of the air, to make sure then tension was correct. Haerin didn’t flinch at the sharp snicking sound they made as they blades made contact.
“Deep breath,” Yoongi instructed her quietly. “And think of your soulmate.”
She obeyed instantly, her shoulders rising up and her eyes meeting Yoongi’s.
“There it is,” he murmured.
Yoongi reached out with his left hand and grabbed the shimmering red string he could see coming from her chest and trailing off into the ether. Once he’d grasped it carefully between his finger and thumb, Haerin could see it too - and her eyes widened and mouth dropped open in surprise. Yoongi kept his left hand where it was, and brought the silver shears over to the soulmate string with his right. He pressed them open, then carefully moved them forward, until the edges of the blades were just barely touching the string.
Haerin twitched and gasped in shock as the cold metal touched her soulmate string. Yoongi always paused here - the very, very, very last chance to back out. He raised his eyebrows at Haerin, keeping his hands absolutely still.
Her nostrils flared and, though her eyes gleamed with a few unshed tears, she nodded.
Yoongi gently curled the fingers of his right hand toward his palm, closing the shears and severing Haerin’s soulmate string with a sharp, bright snkt noise. Her eyes grew even wider as the two halves flickered spasmodically one last time, then fell away back into the Ether and vanished.
“It’s done,” Yoongi said, putting the shears down carefully back into their box. “Take another deep breath.”
Haerin exhaled loudly, her fists bunching up on top of her thighs.
“There’s candy in the jars,” he said more softly, nodding with his head towards the ceramic canisters. “I recommend a strong flavor to help you ground yourself. I’ve got cinnamon, lemon, mint, and dark chocolate, depending on what you like.”
Haerin looked at the canisters, slightly absently, and eventually chose a mint candy, by which point Yoongi had closed up the wooden box and put it back into its spot. Once she’d sucked on the mint a few times, she blinked and seemed a little more present.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m- I”m so relieved it’s gone! That’s the last bit of me he had!”
She managed a tight smile then, unconsciously rubbing her chest.
“I’m glad I could help,” Yoongi said, smiling back.
She’d already paid, so then it was simply a matter of them saying their farewells and exchanging bows, and Haerin was gone back the way she had come - this time, paying even less attention to the cats, the crows, and the creeping ivy. There was certainly no chance she’d ever come back to Yoongi’s shop ever again. After all, a person only ever got one soulmate.
Yoongi puttered around in his office for a bit longer after she left, even though he had no other appointments. He updated his ledger, dusted his glass display cases and bookshelves, put out food and water for the crows and cats, and read about the latest market fluctuations in the price of silver. Then, with nothing else to do, he put Haerin’s money into his shoulder bag, locked up the shop, and left.
Once he’d gotten the cash safely deposited at the bank, he headed to his friend Namjoon’s house. He and his boyfriend Jungkook both had their birthdays in September, so for the past few years they’d hosted a little joint party for both of them to celebrate with their inner circle of friends early in the month, before everyone got dragged away for their family Chuseok gatherings. Out of the group, Yoongi had known Namjoon the longest, but he got along well with all of them: Namjoon’s college roommate Hoseok, Jungkook’s best friend since childhood Jimin, and Hoseok’s regular tennis partner (possibly looking for a promotion to boyfriend) Seokjin. They had all hung out around each other long enough at this point to be quite comfortable.
When Yoongi got to Namjoon and Jungkook’s place, Seokjin and Hoseok were there, but Jungkook hadn’t gotten home from work yet.
“Hey, Yoongi, come in!” Namjoon greeted him jovially.
He was wearing a giant floppy t-shirt with a big asymmetrical graphic flower print on it, with gray joggers that hung loose over his legs but had tight elastic at the ankles, emphasizing his large bare feet that slapped a little as he jogged excitedly across his own tile floor.
“Happy early birthday!” Yoongi congratulated him, giving him a big smile and a tiny back-patting side-hug on his way through the door.
“Thank you, thank you,” Namjoon replied. “Jungkook and Jimin should be here soon - Jungkook made a new friend at work and he’s coming with them.”
“Ah, how nice!” Yoongi said, depositing his two gift bottles of wine on the kitchen counter, nodding to Seokjin who was tending to the creation of some kind of appetizer there.
Seokjin looked like he’d come directly from work as well, just tossing one of Jungkook’s aprons on over his white button down shirt and navy dress slacks. Not wanting to get in Seokiin’s way, Yoongi headed further inward to the living room, plopping himself down comfortably on the couch, waving to Hoseok who was fiddling with the remote and trying to search for something on the TV. Hoseok smiled back brightly as he always did, looking relaxed in a huge sweater decorated with large blocks of color and baggy carpenter jeans that all but swallowed his socked feet.
Yoongi liked being in Namjoon and Jungkook’s place - they had done such a nice job of creating a space that reflected both of their tastes, but was still comfortable for visiting and hanging out. They had art prints hung on most of the walls, lots of interesting knick-knacks and collectables on the shelves, generously-sized couches, and plush rugs. Jungkook liked leaving the lights low and putting a little light projector going, littering the ceiling with stylized stars and galaxies.
The front door opened again, and Jungkook’s bright voice burst in immediately.
“Hello, it’s me!” he called out.
“And me!” Jimin added right after.
“And we’ve got Taehyung with us,” Jungkook added, as three bodies piled through the door. “Everyone, meet Taehyung!”
Yoongi and Hoseok stood up so they could turn and be introduced properly, while Namjoon was already walking forward smiling hugely and Seokjin was wiping off his hands. Jungkook was still in his polo shirt and slacks from work, though it looked like Jimin had had a chance to change judging from the loose-knit pastel sweater and straight-legged jeans he was wearing. Then, behind them, the one who had to be Taehyung. He was in a polo shirt and slacks like Jungkook, but with a blazer for good measure. His dark hair was neatly trimmed and styled, and he was lean and long-legged - possibly slightly taller than Jungkook, even. He was carrying a large box of something - possibly a flat-ish pastry, from the shape and decoration of the box.
“Thank you for coming!” Namjoon greeted the newcomer.
“Thanks for inviting me!” Taehyung said, in a polite, modest tone - but Yoongi was a little shocked at the deepness of his voice. “You must be Namjoon - happy early birthday! I brought chocolate-covered strawberries for everyone to share.”
“Ah, thank you, thank you,” Namjoon said happily, taking the strawberries and stashing them in the fridge.
“Now, this is Seokjin,” Jungkook explained as he gestured to each person in turn, Jimin smiling and getting his shoes off behind him, “and over there is Hoseok and Yoongi!”
Yoongi watched as Taehyung’s eyes - large, dark, and expressive - flitted to each face as he was introduced, not looking down even as he nodded a polite acknowledgement. He looked at Seokjin, at Hoseok, and then at Yoongi. Yoongi felt a little jolt of something when they made eye contact. Taehyung was very handsome, very put together, and looked at him with what Yoongi thought was a rather uncalled-for level of intensity.
The glance only lasted a split second, but it felt unusually long to Yoongi. The little jolt of something gave his heart rate a little spike, which then felt like a slight pulling sensation in his chest. It was odd and unsettling.
Then, the moment passed. Taehyung turned away from him, smiling at Jimin, getting his own shoes off. Yoongi felt frozen somehow, unable to tear his eyes away. He realized then that he was holding his breath. He forced himself to puff out the air in his lungs and breathe back in, and then immediately whirled and sat back down on the couch, confused by what his body was doing. Fortunately neither Hoseok nor any of the rest of them seemed to notice how strange Yoongi was feeling.
Jungkook hustled off down the hallway to change, Seokjin brought out a tray of snacks and plopped it on the coffee table to a series of enthusiastic noises from Hoseok, and Jimin, Taehyung, and Namjoon sauntered into the living room as well. Yoongi grabbed a little skewer with rice cakes on it while everyone chattered and found seats around him. He felt like he could feel Taehyung’s eyes on him, but avoided looking to check if he was correct.
Everyone had just sat down and started munching on appetizers by the time Jungkook came back out, now in a black hooded sweatshirt and black sweatpants. He looked much more comfortable and happy, and was practically glowing with the force of his contented grin as he sat down heavily next to Namjoon, immediately leaning against him.
“Happy birthday, jagiya,” Jungkook chirped, tucking himself under Namjoon’s armpit as his boyfriend moved his arm to pull him close.
“Happy birthday to you too, baby,” Namjoon replied with a dimpled, contented smile, and then they smooched chastely.
Yoongi smiled, always glad to see his oldest friend be so happy and settled.
“Now, before I get distracted again,” Jungkook said, turning back to the rest of them, “Namjoon probably told you that Taehyung and I work together. He’s the head of the facilities department!”
“Ah, so he’s the one who has to help you when you need three hundred chairs for an event!” Jimin interjected with a giggle.
“Yes, exactly,” Jungkook confirmed.
Yoongi still felt unsettled and didn’t know why. He was somehow filled with the urge to ask Taehyung questions - how had they become friends? What had the rest of his life been like? What food does he like? What music does he listen to? - but he stayed silent. Everyone was chatty enough, he supposed that Taehyung would be getting drawn out into conversation regardless. He grabbed another snack, just a cracker, but as he leaned back to sink back down into the couch and crunch his teeth into the cracker, his eyes drifted up and happened to flit across Taehyung’s face.
Taehyung was still looking at him. Yoongi felt himself flush, and quickly averted his eyes to look at Jimin, who was talking about a funny encounter he’d had with a random family on the sidewalk on the way here.
A few moments later, there was a lull in the conversation.
“Yoongi, Jungkook told me that you do magic?” Taehyung asked softly.
Yoongi felt that strange pulling again as he turned to look at Taehyung. He tried to shake himself out of it - this was his friends’ birthday party, he needed to be sociable even if he didn’t quite feel like himself.
“Ah, yes,” he said modestly, sitting up straighter. “I’m one of those born with the power to see into the Ether, so I can interact with it to a certain degree, and enchant other objects to interact with it as well.”
“And that includes soulmate strings?” he asked interestedly.
Yoongi nodded. That was the part of the Ether that most people knew about. Taehyung grinned, squeezing his hands together excitedly.
“Are they really red like people say?” he asked, scooting forward a little in his seat, his eyes glimmering.
“Yeah,” Yoongi confirmed, smiling a little in return. “Red and a little shimmery.”
“That’s really cool,” Taehyung said admiringly.
Dinner showed up at that point. Neither Jungkook nor Namjoon wanted to have to cook, so they’d planned on a big delivery dinner. The party all jovially piled out of their seats then, helping to bring in all the bags, move food out into bowls, set the table, and hand out more drinks. Both Namjoon and Jungkook were well on their way to being tipsy enough to be loudly talkative at that point, and there were still plenty of beers in the fridge.
Once they’d all reassembled themselves around the dining table, Yoongi found himself seated next to Taehyung. Namjoon was at the head of the table, with Jungkook at his side, Jimin next to him, and Hoseok across from Yoongi. Seokjin was between Taehyung and Namjoon. The table was crammed full of food - still mostly as hot as one would prefer - and condiments and sides.
They all started eagerly serving themselves, and repeating their thanks to Jungkook and Namjoon for the food, and everyone chatted happily and piled up their plates. Hoseok and Seokjin traded telling stories from earlier iterations of their hosts’ birthday party: the year that they tried to roast a whole chicken, but it took three times as long to cook as they thought; the time they tried to host it outside but it was too cold and rainy. Then as often naturally happened at gatherings with more than three people, the conversations fractioned off, becoming two or three separately flowing conversations instead of a single one that involved everyone.
Yoongi was half paying attention to both the chat that Namjoon was having with Jungkook, and the one Jimin was having with Hoseok, when Taehyung turned away from Seokjin and addressed him instead.
“My great-grandmother supposedly had the Ether sight too,” he informed Yoongi, “but she died when I was a baby. As far as I know you’re the first magic user I’ve met!”
Yoongi nodded and smiled politely, feeling oddly fluttery and tongue-tied with Taehyung looming so close now.
“Well, we don’t go around wearing robes and wide-brimmed hats, after all,” he joked lamely.
Taehyung chuckled.
“That’s true. Do you ever use your powers much?” he asked curiously.
“Yoongi actually makes his living from his powers,” Namjoon suddenly supplied with an easy grin, piping up from the other side. “He’s quite well-known in the magical community here for being the best soulmate string cutter!”
Taehyung’s forehead furrowed up and Yoongi suddenly felt a touch anxious. He wished that Namjoon hadn’t brought it up quite as bluntly as he had, even though he was proud of Yoongi and how hard he’d worked on his abilities over the years they’d known each other.
“Cutting soulmate strings?” Taehyung asked, sounding shocked as the smile slid off of his face.
“It’s rare that I’m asked to do so, but yes,” Yoongi confirmed, keeping his tone neutral.
“That sounds awful,” Taehyung muttered.
“Well, sometimes people decide that their lives are better without a soulmate connection,” Yoongi explained.
He thought that Taehyung sounded a little judgemental, but didn’t want to take it too personally.
“It’s still- Yoongi, it’s wrong!” Taehyung said, a little more loudly than before.
“People should have the choice,” Yoongi insisted, now feeling fully defensive. “It’s not wrong to allow them to remove something that they don’t want.”
“Soulmates are so rare!” Taehyung insisted. “It’s not right to cut a soulmate string when so few people even have one!”
Yoongi shook his head, but before he could argue further Jungkook suddenly burst into song - some cheery ditty that a girl group had just recently released - and the whole table either sang along with him or watching him laughingly. Yoongi was glad for the interruption - he didn’t want to risk having an awkward conversation with Jungkook’s new friend dim the mood of the party.
Taehyung seemed to feel similarly. Once the song ended, he didn’t turn back to Yoongi, and stayed talking to Seokjin instead. Yoongi hoped that was the end of it.
Unfortunately, things took another turn just fifteen minutes later. They had all eaten their fill, and the five friends besides Namjoon and Jungkook were helping to clean everything up. (It wouldn’t do to leave a mess that the undoubtedly hungover birthday boys would need to address by themselves in the morning.) The birthday boys were giggling about something as they sat together on the couch, and Yoongi was walking back and forth between the kitchen and the dining table with Seokjin while Hoseok did the dishes and Taehyung was packing food and condiments in the fridge. Seokjin accidentally tipped a glass as he tried to put it down on the counter next to Hoseok, and a big splash of water and ice splatted out right onto the middle of the kitchen floor.
Seokjin made an exasperated noise and lunged to grab a dishtowel. Just then, Taehyung shut the fridge door and whirled around, eyes already looking past the kitchen island out to the dining room to see if there was anything else to grab. Yoongi realized that he hadn’t noticed the spill happen, and was about to step right into the slippery cold puddle with his bare feet.
“Careful!” Yoongi called out, quickly leaning forward and putting his hand on Taehyung’s chest.
Then, as his fingertips pressed against him through the fine knit fabric of his polo shirt, their eyes met. Yoongi felt that same strange pulling he had before when he’d first met Taehyung, but a thousand times stronger. Taehyung gasped loudly, his eyes widening.
And there, stretched out between their two chests, a shimmering red string materialized out of the Ether.
Taehyung was Yoongi’s soulmate.
“What!” Taehyung yelled, sounding confused and overwhelmed.
“Oh no,” someone said.
Yoongi realized he was the one who’d said that out loud. He jerked his hand back, heart pounding in his ears. His soulmate! The person he had always dreaded meeting. Taehyung’s face was flushed and his shoulders were up, his eyes wide and watery as he looked at Yoongi.
“It’s just a puddle of water,” Seokjin muttered a little crossly at their feet, swabbing the floor, “no need to be so dramatic.”
Yoongi kept staring at Taehyung. Taehyung, who already knew that Yoongi didn’t want a soulmate, didn’t like the idea of soulmates, and was not at all happy with the revelation that Yoongi cut soulmate strings. Taehyung looked devastated. Between them, the string shimmered out of visibility again, having dissipated the burst of magical energy from its initial activation.
Yoongi couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Taehyung deliberately turned his face away from Yoongi, stepped over the puddle and the aggrieved Seokjin, and wordlessly walked out to the living room. Yoongi felt a little light-headed from the aftershocks of the soulmate connection. He didn’t know what to do. It was, after all, Namjoon and Jungkook’s party - not the time to air things out with Taehyung.
Yoongi and Taehyung didn’t speak a word to each other for the rest of the gathering. Yoongi shot a few timid glances his way, but Taehyung completely avoided acknowledging him in any way, as far as he could tell. Yoongi just hoped that their hosts didn’t notice.
The party reached its natural conclusion late in the night, and they left one-by-one.
Once Yoongi stepped outside, however, Taehyung was waiting out in the hallway. Yoongi jumped a little as the door closed behind him, startled and suddenly anxious all over again.
“Yoongi, please,” Taehyung said, his eyes huge and sad as he took a few slow steps towards him, “please don’t cut our string.”
Yoongi looked him up and down, taken aback. Did Taehyung really have that low of an opinion of him?
“Of course I’m not going to do that,” he said a touch sharply. “I already told you, it’s not like I go around mowing down soulmate strings by the dozens! I only cut the ones of people who are completely certain they don’t want them!”
“And aren’t you completely certain you don’t want a soulmate?” Taehyung demanded of him desperately, pointing at him as if he wanted to tap Yoongi’s chest with the tip of his finger.
“I hadn’t much thought about it, to be honest,” Yoongi said mildly, though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Only about twelve percent of the world’s population ever meets their soulmate, so I figured chances were I’d never have to deal with it.”
“Deal with it,” Taehyung hissed incredulously.
“Hold on,” Yoongi said hurriedly, not liking how Taehyung was only getting more upset the more he tried to explain. “Let’s start this over. I don’t think you’re seeing my point of view correctly.”
Taehyung frowned severely and shook his head.
“What’s there to see?” he snapped. “I’ve always dreamed of meeting my soulmate, and now I’ve met you and you…not only do you not want a soulmate, you take other people’s soulmates away!”
Yoongi frowned back at him, hurt at Taehyung’s exaggeration, and his perverse determination at making Yoongi’s position seem as extreme as possible.
“Only those who ask me to!” he repeated. “I don’t go around cutting strings indiscriminately! I just remove it when asked, for people who find it too painful to endure for whatever reason!”
“And now that we’ve met, how are you going to deal with it?” Taehyung hissed, making sarcastic finger quotes as he spoke.
Yoongi huffed an aggrieved breath.
“I’ll treat you exactly like anyone else I’d met a day ago,” he informed him stubbornly. “It doesn’t matter whether we’re soulmates or not. You can’t expect anything else from me.”
“How generous of you,” Taehyung replied sarcastically, practically sneering.
“This, here, is basically the heart of why I have trouble with the concept of soulmates,” Yoongi pointed out, trying to meet Taehyung’s anger with sympathy. “I don’t want to be forced, or expected, to act a certain way just because we have a ephemeral connection through the Ether. Don’t you think we’d have an easier time getting along right now, having just met each other for the first time, without the added burden of being soulmates?
“We’d be getting along better if you weren’t a soulmate string cutter!” Taehyung hissed at him accusingly.
Yoongi felt his patience growing paper thin.
“I don’t know why you’re so fixated on that,” he said crossly. “I’m not doing it out of cruelty or bitterness. The people whose strings I cut are happier afterwards.”
Taehyung opened his mouth to argue further, but Yoongi had had enough.
“I’m not going to talk about this with you any further,” he said firmly. “Have a good night.”
Then he turned and strode off.
They didn’t speak again until the next time all of them met up with Namjoon and Jungkook. Yoongi was torn - in a way he hoped that Taehyung wasn’t there, but he also couldn’t help but wish to see him again. He couldn't deny that he felt a little pull from their string. They had gotten off to a bad start, sure - but surely they could straighten things out?
Taehyung was there. And things felt very strained and awkward between them. Yoongi made a few short attempts to make remarks to him, but got only nods and hums in return. At least it was better than arguing in front of everyone, he supposed.
Then, an hour or so into the gathering, Taehyung followed him into the kitchen. Yoongi suppressed a frown. It was a strange, unsettling sensation, to feel the tug of the soulmate string - a feeling that was supposed to be comforting - but know that Taehyung was not at all happy to see him. Not that he’d given Yoongi any reason to be happy about seeing him, either.
“Yoongi, I don’t feel like you’re treating me like everyone else,” Taehyung complained as soon as they were both through the doorway.
“You’re right,” Yoongi sniped back, feeling harassed and ungenerous as he got himself another can of soda. “I don’t think I can.”
Then he darted back out to the living room before Taehyung could reply, and immediately cornered Jimin into talking about the latest TikTok trend he’d seen. It was, as ever, surprisingly hard to ignore his soulmate. His body wanted to turn and acknowledge him, to soften his body language, to glance over and see what he was doing. But Yoongi’s sore and resentful heart kept him facing squarely away, talking to everyone but Taehyung. Yoongi was so tired of pretending things were fine, of pretending in front of the others that Taehyung’s comments didn’t bother him - and he felt like Taehyung was making much less effort to be nice than he was, so why should he keep it up?
Taehyung was waiting for him afterwards, of course. As Yoongi stepped off the elevator to find Taehyung frowning, leaning against a pillar in the parking garage with his arms crossed, he thought sourly that at least Taehyung had chosen not to do his latest round of yelling in front of everyone else.
“So are you going to cut the string?” Taehyung asked him coldly, with no preamble.
“I promised I wouldn't,” Yoongi replied, just as coldly.
“Until when?” Taehyung demanded, stepping towards him even as Yoongi tried to continue past and head to his car. “Isn’t it cruel to just keep me waiting, never knowing when you’re going to-”
Yoongi couldn’t stand it. There seemed to be no limit to Taehyung’s poor opinion of him - Yoongi’s promises and explanations were all worthless to him, apparently.
“You’re the one who’s been cruel from the very first moment!” Yoongi interrupted him, fighting to keep his voice even and not give into the tears that were threatening to choke and blind him. “You came out swinging with threats and accusations as soon as you knew about what I do!”
Taehyung flinched backwards.
“I-” he started to protest.
“No!” Yoongi interrupted him furiously. “You never even gave me a chance at all! You never gave yourself the chance to find out who I actually am as a person! You came in with your head full already of how exactly I would be, the perfect vision to fulfill your perfect soulmate fantasy, and as soon as I oh-so-inconveniently didn’t match that in the slightest way, you turned on me instantly and made me your enemy for no reason!”
“Hating soulmates isn’t ‘no reason!’” Taehyung argued back heatedly. “That’s a pretty big fucking deal!”
“And what have you done to convince me I’m wrong to hate soulmates?” Yoongi snapped back. “Huh? You just reacted exactly the way I always dreaded that my soulmate would and confirmed all my worst fears. That I’m not good enough, I’ll never be good enough! You have a picture in your head already of your perfect partner and perfect life and I could never live up to it, no matter what I do!”
And then, humiliatingly, Yoongi did start crying then, angrily wiping the tears as quickly as they could fall.
“I didn’t-” Taehyung said, deflating and looking guilty.
“You did,” Yoongi insisted.
Then, before things could get even worse, he turned around and left. Fortunately Taehyung seemed, at long last, to be willing to leave things alone, and didn’t follow Yoongi to his car to continue the argument.
৶৶৶৶৶
Once he’d gotten home and dried his tears and slept on it, Yoongi was at a complete loss as to what to do. He hated the fact that his complicated situation with Taehyung was affecting the rest of their friends, to the point that some of them were feeling like they had to “choose sides.” But Yoongi felt strongly about his principles, and was proud of how hard he’d worked to hone his magical skill - there was no world in which he was going to even pretend to back down just because Taehyung didn’t like it. He was perfectly willing to let the matter lie - he had never been the first one to bring it up in the first place! It was Taehyung who kept insisting on making an argument about it.
So what was Yoongi supposed to do? Just hang out with his friends as usual, and be on alert for things to be tense whenever Taehyung was there at the same time? Coordinate with them so that he and Taehyung never came to the same gatherings? Just distance himself from all of them entirely, letting the other five choose to meet up with him one-on-one as they saw fit?
All the options made Yoongi sad. He valued the steady peace he’d managed to build with his friends throughout the years until now, and hated to give it up. But he couldn’t find any way to reach a middle ground with his unfortunate soulmate.
Yoongi moped at home for the rest of the weekend, feeling lonely and unsure of himself.
Then, he got a text message from Taehyung.
[KTH] why haven’t you cut the string yet?
[KTH] just get it over with
Yoongi sighed and felt angry all over again. Apparently Taehyung hadn’t cooled off at all. Would it ever be possible to get him to see things logically, and talk things over calmly? It was seeming less likely the more time went by.
Yoongi didn’t bother replying.
By the time Monday morning rolled around, he had reluctantly come to the conclusion that giving Taehyung space was the only solution for the moment. As much as Yoongi didn’t want to be the one who had to give way, he had enough pride that he’d rather be the bigger man. He’d show everyone that he was being the more flexible of the two.
So he turned down the invite when Seokjin suggested everyone come over to watch the premiere of a new drama on Thursday, and also graciously said no when Hoseok arranged a brunch on Saturday. However, his streak of not seeing or talking to Taehyung ended on Tuesday after that.
Yoongi was in his office, doing some metallurgical research, when a knock came at the door. He was a little surprised - walk-ins were very rare these days. Hardly anyone came to see him without at least emailing first.
“Come in!” he called out nonetheless.
To his shock, it was Taehyung who came through the door. And, with him, a wave of sadness through their soulmate string.
“Wh-” he tried to ask.
“It’s fifteen million won, right?” Taehyung asked grimly.
Yoongi stared at him, aghast, unable to formulate a reply at first.
“Why are you here?” he asked finally.
“I want- I w-want you to cut our string. My soulmate string,” Taehyung said tense and formal, but with a hint of a waver in his voice.
Yoongi just stared at him. Taehyung let himself all the way in, closed the door, and sat down in the chair on the other side of Yoongi’s desk.
“Why?” Yoongi asked.
It was a question he’d never asked before. Sometimes his clients told him why, but if they didn’t volunteer the information he let it be left unsaid.
“Because you hate me,” Taehyung said, gulping and taking a shaking breath.
“I don’t hate you,” Yoongi said softly. “We don’t see eye-to-eye on the subject of soulmates, and you have said hurtful things to me, but I don’t hate you.”
“You were right about what you said before,” Taehyung said tearfully. “It’s my fault that things got to this state. I’m the one who ruined everything.”
“It’s not ruined-” Yoongi tried to argue.
Taehyung shook his head and took a deep breath, trying to get control of himself.
“You deserve to get what you want out of this, which is not have a soulmate anymore,” Taehyung said, more firmly, though he was looking down at the table between them. “So, I’ll be the one to pay the fee, and we can have it over with right now.”
Yoongi could feel the pangs of grief and regret coming through the soulmate bond. He felt a sadness of his own, that despite their many arguments on the subject, he still hadn’t gotten Taehyung to see his own point of view about soulmates - that it wasn’t that he didn’t want one, it was that the idea of not having a choice about it gave him so much anxiety. And now things were continuing to spiral out of control and escalate, despite his best intentions.
He decided he would need to call Taehyung’s bluff.
Without saying anything, he grabbed the special wooden box from its alcove. Taehyung gasped and twitched in his seat. Yoongi put the box carefully down on the table, exactly equidistant between them, and rotated it so that it would open facing Taehyung.
Then he put his fingers to the sides of the lid, and swung the lid open. He watched Taehyung’s eyes zero in on the gleaming silver scissors inside, and immediately widen and fill with tears.
“Oh-” Taehyung said brokenly, putting his hands on his chest. “Oh no.”
He looked at Yoongi desperately, his mouth curling down as he started to cry. Yoongi snapped the lid shut and quickly put the box away, hating the swirl of terribly sad emotions he was feeling from the bond, and how guilty he felt for his part of it. He stood up and went to the other side of the desk, grabbing a spare chair tucked away at the side so he could sit next to Taehyung. Taehyung stayed frozen where he was, trying to control his sobbing, hands still on his chest.
“Taehyung,” he said, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to cut our string today. Let’s talk more about this first.”
Taehyung nodded disconsolately, and then pulled out a few tissues when Yoongi grabbed a box and pushed them close.
“I don’t hate you,” Yoongi said, as Taehyung’s tears slowed down and he tried to wipe off his face. “You haven’t ruined things. I won’t lie - I do feel hurt by the things you’ve said, But I’m sorry that you’ve been so hurt by all of this too.”
Taehyung sighed, sounding overwhelmed and unsure.
“It’s not like I’m completely against the idea of soulmates,” Yoongi went on. “What I don’t like is the idea of not having a choice. My parents were soulmates.”
Taehyung looked up at him sharply at that.
“Mine were too,” he mumbled, dabbing at his eyes. “Did yours h-hate each other, then?”
Yoongi smiled sadly and shook his head.
“No, they loved each other very much,” he said. “They were the picture-perfect soulmate couple. They never fought about anything, they were just happy, happy, happy all the time.”
Taehyung’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“So why did I turn out like this?” Yoongi continued rhetorically, anticipating Taehyung’s question. “Well, I grew up in the shadow of all of that. The two of them, their relationship, was just so flawless all the time, that once I was in my teens and twenties and starting to think about romance and love, it made me afraid. I felt like I could never be like that. I’m just me - I’m prone to periods of anxiety and depression, I just can’t be pleasant and agreeable all the time. I’m not built that way. I always knew I would disappoint my soulmate. That’s why I never wanted to meet you.”
Yoongi slumped back in his seat then, feeling vulnerable.
“My parents hated each other,” Taehyung rasped out, the words spilling out of him haphazardly. “They both resented the soulmate bond. Their personalities didn’t mesh and they argued about petty things all the time. But then a tiny percent of the time, it was like they’d get in sync - they’d find something they were both excited about, even just something small like a song, and spend hours together dancing and singing and laughing. Every time that happened, I wished it could always be like that - but it couldn’t last. They couldn’t stay away from each other either, and nothing was in moderation. It was like they couldn’t imagine a life where things weren’t at the height of drama and emotion all the time.”
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi murmured. “That sounds really rough.”
Taehyung nodded.
“Yeah, I thought it was normal, but looking back, the constant turmoil and uncertainty gave me so much heartache,” he went on. “Like you, once I was older and thinking about the kind of person I’d want to be in love with, I dreamed of meeting my soulmate and just having someone who would be someone I could depend on. I was sure that I could do it better than my parents had.”
They sat together in silence, the quiet of Yoongi’s isolated office enveloping them. From outside, a crow croaked, sounding a bit like an outraged old woman.
“I guess I just repeated the pattern I grew up with, didn’t I,” Taehyung observed dully. “I came out full of anger and tried to make everything into an argument even when you were trying to keep things calm.”
“And I got defensive right away, and assumed that you were judging everything about me and my life, rather than just wanting to understand one small part of it,” Yoongi offered.
Taehyung sighed again, and then looked around Yoongi’s office, really taking it in for the first time. Yoongi watched him glance at the compact and densely-packed cabinets and displays, the carefully-chosen paintings and ceramic jars. He wondered what he thought of all of it - certainly, if all Yoongi ever did was hone his scissors and dream of the end of soulmates, he wouldn’t have found so many intriguing items to collect and admire.
Finally, Taehyung turned back to him, and Yoongi saw a mirror on his face of all the rawness and vulnerability he himself was feeling.
“I want to apologize,” Taehyung said, his voice thick and trembling. “Yoongi, I’m sorry. This was all my fault and I took things way too far. I- I felt so guilty last week when I yelled and made you cry. I was wrong about all of it, and honestly I knew that even then but I didn’t know how to back down. Can we start again?”
Yoongi stared down at the ground, arms crossed protectively over his chest. He felt hurt not only by Taehyung, but also by their friends. Over the weeks he’d met Taehyung, he felt like he had been constantly on the defensive, constantly backed into a corner and expected to let all of Taehyung’s comments slide. But Taehyung had hurt himself, too.
Yoongi decided that if Taehyung was truly sincere about turning things around, he could be too.
“Thank you for apologizing,” Yoongi said softly. “I’m sorry too, that we couldn’t figure out how to face our differences without things getting to this point.”
They stood there in tense silence for a moment, Yoongi chewing on his lips and Taehyung absently running his palms over this thighs.
“Let’s at least try,” Yoongi whispered. “If you can see me as I am, not how you think I should be, I’ll do the same.”
Taehyung inhaled sharply.
“Really?” he said in a hopeful warble, sounding like he was about to cry again. “Even after all of this, you’d give me another chance?”
Yoongi paused and thought about it. He supposed that if he really wasn’t going to be able to get over it, if he’d spend all their time together feeling resentful, then he should admit that now. But he didn’t feel that way - he yearned for a new beginning too. And he felt like they could make it work.
“Yes,” he finally said, uncrossing his arms and making the effort to look Taehyung in the face. “I think that, as soulmates, maybe we should try to be more careful, and more thoughtful and understanding of each other than we would other wise. No more assumptions, either good or bad. Having a soulmate can be a precious gift for the right person, and I’ve never thought otherwise, even though I guess I’ve always thought I could never be that person.”
Taehyung’s lips wobbled, and he stuck his hand out at Yoongi a little desperately.
“I think you could be that person, if I don’t ruin it for you again,” he said.
Yoongi found that he couldn’t say no. As hard as things were now, he wanted a future where he and Taehyung were at least with okay with each other - where the soulmate bond didn’t ache with regret. He reached his hand out and threaded his fingers carefully through Taehyung’s and squeezed his hand. Taehyung smiled at him tremulously and squeezed back, so Yoongi took a deep breath and gave a small smile of his own.
Deep in his chest, he felt a warmth he’d never felt before. It felt like the start of something new.