Chapter Text
The first time Yoongi saw a strange scrawl on pen upon his arm that he did not remember putting there, he was confused. Being eight years old at the time, he did not exactly understand what was occurring.
“Mum, what is this?” He quietly mumbled, stumbling into the kitchen and peering up at mother with wide eyes. Stars glistened in his gaze as he once again swung it back to the extending pattern that was blossoming upon the soft flesh of his forearm.
She smiled at this, gently taking his hand in hers and crouching down. “That’s your soulmate; whatever you draw on your skin will come up on theirs,”
“Whatever I write?”
“Yes, whatever you write.”
And suddenly, Yoongi’s thoughts were alight.
–
The flames never quite dimmed down as years passed by with languid vigor.
Now, at the still-youthful age of twenty three, Yoongi splashes ink upon his arm and awaits a response.
Outside, the sky splutters violet; smatterings of pastel blue scattered amongst the wisps of ivory cloud. A shattered essence of excitement hangs low in the air, warm fingers scraping across window panes and shuddering along alleyways with shimmering glee; spring is blooming, much like the smear of words Yoongi is painting across his arm.
Hello, how are you?
A fractional moment staggers past before a purple scripture begins to snake its way across his skin.
Yoongi!
I’ve missed you
We spoke this morning
You’re weird…
That’s mean!
Well clearly you only want to be mean to me so goodbye
Yoongi sighs, staring at the vibrant ink that winds it’s way across his limbs. He waits for a lingering moment before lowering his own pen back to his arm.
Jimin…
No! Stop writing
Why??
Because then I’ll want to carry on talking to you
Well you wouldn’t have to worry about that if we could just meet each other…
Yoongi knows he probably shouldn’t bring this up but he cannot help himself; he’s bitter and both of them know that.
I’m sorry…
You know we can’t do that anytime soon
I know.
He presses particularly hard into his arm as the full stop dims his skin, ink spreading on out into his pores and creating a mess of mismatched lines; interlocked like the words that permeate his thoughts.
–
Yoongi may know that they cannot meet eachother, but he certainly does not understand why.
–
Since discovering this little ability that everyone seemed to posses, the small and excited Yoongi had spent hours attempting to draw something perfect for his soulmate.
That was the day that Yoongi also discovered that he couldn’t draw for shit.
“It’s so unfair,” He all but screeched, tossing his pen aside and staring in dismay at the scribbles that now coated his arm.
At the time, he was about to wash away the straggling pool of ink, swathed in the shame of failure and embarrassment. The thought that his soulmate can also see these words doesn’t strike him at that point, the idea of disappointment swamping his torso hanging too heavy to allow any other comprehensible impulses or feelings to slip though.
He was about to press a soaked bundle of tissue to his defaced arm when a strange tingling sensation began to crawl its way up the arm that was very much clean.
Who are you?
The handwriting is stuttery, clumsy at best; even at his age Yoongi knew that this writing belonged to someone at least a few years younger than him. He bit back a smile at the question, and decided to attempt a conversation with this mysterious ‘soulmate’ of his.
–
Can I have your phone number, now?
The question is bitter, Yoongi knows that. He's entirely aware that maybe this is ground that they shouldn't pass into but he's tired; tired of skirting around certain subjects and entirely avoiding critical parts of their lives.
And besides, he's been speaking to his soulmate for a good fifteen years – the fact that they have not exchanged phone numbers by now is strange and confusing and probably holds connotations of dysfunction.
I suppose…
Jimin doesn't state anything further for a good minute and a half, as if contemplating the weight of this decision; will doing this affect their relationship? Will doing this bring them closer together? Will doing this force them to tumblr over the fine line between caring in a platonic way and caring on a deeper, innately romantic way? The thoughts make Yoongi's head spin in much the same way that he assumes they do to Jimin.
Yoongi releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when a series of digits begin to splay across the back of Yoongi’s hand, in spidery blue ink that seeps into the crevices and pores. There’s a sudden rush of movement when Yoongi snatches up his phone and hastily types the numbers in.
A shuddery sigh slips from his lips as he begins to plan out a text message – the first text message.
Yoongi isn't very good at planning text messages today.
Min Yoongi – 19:08
Hello?
Park Jimin – 19:10
Hi…
I don’t know why I’m finding this so scary
I mean
We’ve been talking for years
Texting is just an updated version of writing, right?
Min Yoongi – 19:16
This is exactly the same
Except
Now you can erase the things you change your mind about
…
Park Jimin – 19:21
I guess…
Min Yoongi – 19:22
Can I call you?
Jimin does not respond to this message.
–
“Do soulmates have to fall in love?”
Now, at the age of ten, Yoongi had been speaking to Jimin for two years. He knew all sorts of random information; Jimin liked drawing but didn’t think he was very good; Jimin was shy, and was reluctant to play with the ‘cool kids’ at his school; he liked learning new words so he could show off to his siblings; he had a friend named Jungkook that was a further two years younger than Jimin; and most of all, Yoongi knew that Jimin was his friend.
“Of course not,” His mother smiled from her seat on the couch, watching her convoluted son as he took her answer into account, “There can be platonic soulmates, too.”
Yoongi pretended that he knew what the word ‘platonic’ means as he nodded, “So, you can just be best friends?”
“If that’s what you want, then yes.”
A pause washes between them as Yoongi rubbed at the writing on his arm, gaze fixated on the messy scrawl of green.
“Is there anything wrong with it if you do fall in love?”
At this, his mother frowns, eyeing Yoongi with confusion – these questions had to be coming from somewhere… “Why do you want to know?” She neglects the notion to answer his question.
“Just because I do…” He refuses to meet her calculating eyes, stubbornness sweeping through his expression.
She frowns, “I personally think that soulmates are much more in tune when they’re in love – the love of friendship is strong, but a romantic bond is just… so much purer.”
Through his haze of childhood, Yoongi can wholeheartedly admit that he did not quite understand what she was saying. And yet, from her words, a certain lack of fulfillment swept through his head.
–
Min Yoongi – 02:32
Jiminie…
I’ve got something I should probably tell you…
Park Jimin – 02:33
Like what?
Min Yoongi – 02:33
…
It doesn’t matter
Why are you awake at this time anyway?
–
Min Yoongi – 02:39
I… I think I love you- (unsent)
–
Yoongi can’t help but let such feelings slip into his everyday life; the niggling thought of ‘oh, I should tell Jimin about this later!’; the warm feeling that spreads through his chest when something reminds him of Jimin; the stars that swallow his thoughts and the galaxies that consume his mind when Jimin crosses it.
Yoongi can only hope that Jimin feels the same way.