#how did this not occur to me ......... the person who has written pushing daisies AUs for six different shows ......

[theradioghost]

...someone just tagged one of my old pushing daisies posts where I described ned as an “anxious necromancer” with “I thought this was about barry bluejeans at first” and. well that sure is a concept for an AU isn’t it

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

The Parting Chapter Four

Description: The only certainty in life is death, and it seems to follow Park Jimin. All his life, the icy shadow of death has hung closely by his side, along with the shadow of…something else. Reapers exist to guide the souls of the living to the world beyond. But what happens when a particular Reaper tampers with the natural order and saves a mortal boy’s life? What will they do once their fates become inextricably linked?

Genre: Supernatural, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jimin x (f) OC

Word Count: 9.9k

Tags: Flower Shop Owner!Jimin, Reaper!OC, Non-Idol!AU, Cop!Yoongi, Supernatural!AU

Warnings: Death, swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Alright, it’s real emo hours since Epiphany dropped. I’m consistently amazed with their work. Anyway, I hope you guys are doing well. I’m a wee bit stressed, but it’s nothing major! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As always, I will respond to all asks received within a day of receiving them, so feel free and feel comfortable sending me anything! And please send feedback, criticism, comments or concerns my way so I can address them.

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Chapter One

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

Something felt very very wrong.

Namjoon continued chatting beside me in the patrol car, but my focus was missing, drifting elsewhere. Possibly deliberately, Namjoon had avoided mentioning the arrest for the duration of the drive. He seemed quite shaken about the issue back at the cafe, but he was careful to collect himself as soon as we were alone in the car. I wondered vaguely if he was being conscious of me, trying not to upset me. But then a new, more uncomfortable thought occurred to me; what if he wasn’t talking about it because he’d grown suspicious of me?

He parked the car and I exited quickly. Regret began filling me up. I had revealed too much needlessly. Yoongi had already gotten the information from Jimin by the time I’d told it to Namjoon. The only thing I hadn’t gotten the chance to mention was-

“Namjoon,” I said, leaning back inside the car to stare at him seriously.

He turned to give me a big smile. “Yeah?”

“As Jimin left the bar, one of the boys with him stood to leave. I didn’t see which one,” I said, meeting his eyes seriously as his smile fell.

His eyes went wide. “Wait-uh,” he started, then struggled with his seatbelt.

“No, it’s okay. You don't need to get out,” I said, shaking my head. He stilled and looked at me. “Just…just make sure you catch the right person, okay?”

He shook his head. “I will, but…,” he began, then sighed. “I’m sorry, but it’s gonna be a lot harder without your testimony.”

I inhaled long and slow. “I…Namjoon, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I desperately want to,” I said, searching his face. I wanted him to trust me. To believe me. His eyes were foggy with worry. “But it’s not as simple as that. There are things I simply cannot explain.”

He nodded. “I understand. And I won’t push you,” he said. “But…in the future, you might be the only thing that stands in the way of a criminal getting justice.”

My brows furrowed and I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. “I see.”

He reached out and patted my hand as it rested on the dashboard, my body hovering halfway inside the car. “Don’t worry too much, okay?” he said, then smiled brightly. “Nothing you said today will be used. I’ll keep it to myself, okay?”

I nodded. “I’m trusting you.”

“I’m happy you are.”

Again, I nodded before pulling myself out of the car. I waved over my shoulder as Namjoon pulled off onto the road, quickly racing towards the police station. I sighed after him and turned towards the shop. The flowers in the front of the shop were beginning to droop slightly. They needed tending. With a quiet sigh, I pulled Jimin’s keyring from the big front pocket of my dress and, as I did, I noticed my empty hands. I groaned.

“Dammit,” I mumbled to myself, unlocking the door to the shop and propping it open so the place could get some fresh air. I’d left the bag of groceries at the cafe by the beach. Namjoon and I had left in such a hurry that I hadn’t thought to grab it.

I wandered around the shop, running my fingertips along the countertops atop which pots of flowers and various plant life sat comfortably. Beside each were hand-written price tags. I couldn’t help but smile at the way Jimin’s handwriting curved here and dipped there. It was animated and bright, like him. With a quick sigh I turned towards the workroom and walked inside. I walked to the back and grabbed for the old yellow watering can, filling it quickly in the large sink by the window. I glanced outside. The very same window where Jimin’s father had placed those delicate, wilting peonies four years ago. It was strange, even nostalgic staring at that space. I glanced towards the ground, my sneakered feet sitting right beside where his father had fallen. Unconsciously, I inched closer to the sink’s wide basin. The windowsill, now empty, now gathered dust. It remained unopened. I watched the world outside, winding streets, swaying trees vibrant with springtime life, children playing on the sidewalks, weaving all the way down to the beach.

And this window was closed to it all.

“Ah!” I exclaimed as the watering can overflowed into the sink.

I shook my head and grabbed its slippery handle, finding it quite heavier than I expected. I walked carefully back into the store and gingerly lifted the weighty can, dousing each plant along the walls with water. How Jimin managed to reach those high planter baskets overhead was beyond me. I stood cautiously on tiptoe to tilt the can towards a row of daisies on a chest-high shelf and slipped a little, water sloshing over the side and splashing onto the dusty floor. I righted myself quickly, but before I could give it another attempt I felt the weight of the can lift in my hands and, amazed, stared at it for a while before noticing an extra pair of hands on the handle.

I gasped and jumped backwards, colliding with the stranger behind me. Gracelessly, water spilled out from the top of the can and drenched my face, dripping down towards the dress.

The dress!

I slipped out from beneath the stranger’s arms and rushed to the workroom, grabbing for a clean towel. I dabbed the water from the collar of the dress and, thankfully, found that it hadn’t stained. Such a precious dress should not be damaged by the likes of me.

Slowly, I exited the workroom and found a tall, broad-shouldered man watering the plants which were too tall for me. I watched him from the doorway for a long moment, eyeing him. He seemed rather…odd. He hadn’t spoken a single word as long as he’d been in the shop, hadn’t greeted me, hadn’t even apologized for startling me.

I approached him and he turned only his eyes towards me. “Hello,” he said.

I blinked up at him. “Um…,” I began, then shook my head. “Hello. Who are you?”

He halted his watering and turned to face me properly. “I’m Kim Seokjin. I work here,” he said, then bent at the waist to look me in the eye. “And who are you?”

I swallowed something uncomfortable in my throat and glanced away, towards the daisies. “I’m…I’m Nari.”

“No last name?”

“I’m afraid not.”

He nodded and returned to the plants, gently guiding the water over them. “You’re the one who they found with Jimin, right?” he asked.

“Oh…yes, I suppose,” I said, following him closely as he continued watering diligently.

“Did Jimin give you the key? I’ve been trying to meet up with him for the past few days, but the hospital says you have to be on the list and the little shit didn’t put me on,” said Seokjin with a begrudging sigh.

I nodded. “I’m staying here for a while. I have-,”

“Amnesia, right?” he asked, turning to me. “It’s all over the paper.”

I raised my brows. “Really?”

He nodded and gave a light chuckle. “Small town.”

He turned to walk towards the flowers in the window, giving them an extra spraying of water. I kept close to his side, watching his every move. He rolled the sleeved of his pink shirt up to his elbows, passing the watering can from one hand to the other. He pushed his hair from his face and continued.

“You’re a good worker,” I observed, once again unable to stop myself from speaking. I needed to be more mindful about allowing my inner dialogue to become outer dialogue.

He glanced at me and raised his brows. “What makes you say that?” he asked. “I’m just trying to take care of things so he doesn’t have to.”

“That’s what I was doing too,” I said, then glanced towards the open door. “Is that why you came in?” I asked, pointing to it.

He followed my finger and nodded. “Yeah. I was walking by on the way back from my other job,” he said, then sighed. “I kinda freaked out when I heard about it all. Like…why would someone target him?”

I recalled something in my distant memory. A phone call Jimin had taken on the day of the incident. He’d called someone. Someone named Jin. “Jin…,” I repeated, thinking on it.

He turned to me with wide brown eyes. “Hey, that’s my nickname,” he said, shaking his head. “Only friends call me that.” He began watering again and, again, I kept close. He tossed his head this way and that. “I mean, I guess we can be friends if you want.”

I furrowed my brow and crossed my arms. Something was weird about it. I tried to remember the call. “So you work here?” I asked, trying to pry for information.

He nodded, turning from the plants on the walls and turning towards the ones in the center of the shop. “Yeah, part-time. I was supposed to work on the night he was stabbed, but he called and told me not to.”

That was it! Jimin had said something about being a target…

“Ah,” I said, summoning all my tact to attempt a subtle question. “Do you feel guilty, perhaps?”

He nodded. “Yeah, pretty bad,” he said with a sigh. “I told him to be careful since the weather was bad and he seemed like the killer’s type.”

“Is the killer that well-known here?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Like I said,” he said, turning to me with a half-smile. “Small town.”

“Ah.”

“Things like that don’t happen here. Nobody can figure out why now, of all times, this place is getting so scary,” he said with a shrug. “We’ve never had a serial killer before.”

I nodded. “I suppose it’s shocking.”

“It’s been hard on the whole community,” he said. “Lots of people are blaming the kids.”

“What kids?” I asked, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“The local kids. Taehyung and his friends,” he said.

I glanced at him. He was very well-focused on his task, eyes trained on the leaves as they dipped under the pressure of the water. “Taehyung,” I said, nodding. That was the other one at the bar, wasn’t it?

“They’re just dumb kids. Doubt they’d do something like this,” he said, then looked at me with a laugh. “Not quite smart enough.”

I raised my brows. “Does someone have to be smart to be a killer?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not to be a killer,” he said, then paused to think over his words. “But to be a killer and not get caught.”

“Were you worried about Jimin?” I asked, peering at him.

He nodded, rubbing his forehead with a long exhale. “So worried. I felt like I should have done something more.”

“What could you have done, really?” I asked, thinking back. “He’s your boss.”

“I know,” he said. He set the watering can on the table beside a bouquet of pink and yellow tulips. “Still, I wish I’d come to work anyway.”

I nodded. Truthfully, I wished I’d done more myself. I wished I’d simply stopped the assailant before he could attack Jimin. I wished I’d been able to solve the problem cautiously, without risking myself. I wished I’d been able to spare Jimin from pain.

A low groan rumbled from my gut and I glanced down to it in shock. The area began contracting in light aches and my eyes went wide. Seokjin laughed and leaned back against the table. “Hungry?” he asked.

I stared at him. “Is that what it is?” I asked.

He laughed again and nodded. “Yeah. You should go eat something.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. Jimin has no food.”

Seokjin’s brows raised and he shook his head. “Oh, well let’s get you some groceries then!” he said.

I grabbed his arm as he turned towards the open door. “No, really. It’s okay. I don’t want you to waste your money.”

“My money?” he asked, furrowing his brows. “I’m not paying. I expect you to buy the ingredients, plus an hourly rate for my time.”

“H-Hourly rate?” I asked, feeling around in the pocket of the dress for the rest of the money Namjoon had given me. Not much.

Seokjin nodded and held his hand out to me palm up, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side. “I’ll accept the federal minimum wage.”

“Minimum wage…?”

He nodded again and shook his hand a little. “Mhm.”

We locked eyes for a long moment, his serious and mine panicked, before his expression broke and he laughed, shaking his head and turning on his heel. “I was teasing you.”

My heart which had begun to race settled and I followed him. Something in me was a little…upset? “That wasn’t very kind,” I said.

He turned over his shoulder and, smiling brightly, shrugged his shoulders. “I thought it was funny. You should’ve seen your face. All-,” he paused to offer a horrified expression before laughing again. “It was great.”

I crossed my arms but followed nonetheless, locking the front door behind me.

Seokjin focused keenly on the stove, watching the fish cook on a searing pan. I sat at the table, watching him just as keenly. “Why is Jimin letting you stay here?”

I kept my eyes trained on him and thought a moment. “Because he is kind.”

“Yeah,” said Seokjin with a laugh. “But there’s gotta be another reason for him to take in a stranger with amnesia, right?”

“I believe that would be a question better directed toward him,” I said, nodding.

But the more I thought about it, the stranger it was. From the years I’d been watching over him, Jimin had never been the naively kind type. He was thoughtful and compassionate, but never at the expense of his safety and good judgement. Like that night with Jungkook. He’d done the right thing telling him to stop smoking, but mostly for the sake of his own shop. Perhaps there was another reason I hadn’t realized yet…

I sighed, resting my cheek in my hand. “I got a text earlier,” said Seokjin. He peeked at me over his shoulder. “They arrested Jungkook.”

I stiffened. Had he read my thoughts? “I…yes.”

He nodded, poking the fish with his spatula. “Doesn’t seem right, does it?”

“Do you know him?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Of course,” he said. “Everyone knows everyone here. I watched Jungkook go from a quiet student failing math to a delinquent dropping out of school altogether.”

I laced my fingers and rested my chin atop them. “Was that what he was like?”

Seokjin nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “But Jimin…somehow, Jimin seemed to be a good influence. When Jimin graduated high school was when Jungkook started to spiral.”

“They were good friends?” I asked, something uncomfortable nestling in my stomach. I rubbed it.

“More like a mentor-mentee relationship,” he said.

I exhaled slowly. In the hallway, I heard the distant tumbling sound of the washing machine at work. Another thing Seokjin had helped me with. Still, having him in the apartment felt strange. I wasn’t sure why, but he made me uneasy. Perhaps it was the way he seemed to see through me. I had many things to hide, after all.

“Jimin has lots of friends right?” I asked, more for my own peace of mind than anything.

Seokjin nodded. “Friends, acquaintances, loved ones…he has a few,” he said. “But none are all that close. That’s why it’s…kinda hard to hear that Jungkook was arrested. It would be hard for Jimin to accept if it’s true.”

Nobody close…

“Why is that, do you think?” I asked.

Seokjin shrugged, placing the fillets onto two plates atop freshly cooked rice. He approached and placed a plate in front of me, setting the other one in front of his seat as he sat down. “He’s lost a lot of people.”

I nodded. “Is that the reason?”

“I’d say so,” he said, then met my eyes as he stuffed a bite of fish in his open mouth. “Imagine loving someone deeply only for them to disappear?”

“Isn’t that…the nature of life? Transiency?” I asked, furrowing my brow. I’d never given it much thought before: the pain of grief on those left behind.

He chuckled. “That’s too simple,” he said, sipping some water.

“How do you mean?”

“People are really complex. We can’t just experience devastation and think: huh, yeah that’s just life I guess! Ho hum,” he said with a laugh. “It’s easy to say it when you haven’t felt it before.”

I nodded. “I didn’t realize it was that complicated,” I said.

He smiled. “I’m glad I could teach you,” he said, returning to his food.

But I began to worry. Jimin was much more isolated than I thought he was. He was sadder than I thought too. Smiling brightly…the longer I lived among humans the more I realized the artifice of it. How many people did Jimin have, really? How many people cared for him? How many people did he care for?

“Family,” I said, rubbing my neck as my fish began growing cold. “Does family make the pain easier?” I asked.

Seokjin nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Having a family means having a place.”

A place…

Jimin’s place…I’d always thought it was this shop, this apartment. But perhaps it was more difficult than that. Perhaps he had no place. “It’s good that Jimin has Injung,” I commented.

Seokjin met my eyes and scanned them. “His uncle…?”

I nodded. “Yes. It’s good at least that he has someone.”

He smiled. “It’s better that he has someone worrying about him as much as you do,” he said. “Family doesn’t always have to be blood. Sometimes, it’s forged. We can make our own family.”

“Make our family…?”

He nodded and pushed my plate towards me. “I wonder why he’s letting you stay here,” he repeated with a small smile. “Eat up or you’ll get skinnier.”

Seokjin left after cleaning up the kitchen and hanging my laundry up to dry on a rack in the living room. Night fell and so did I against the plush bed. As I fell asleep, Miso curled up beside my nose, her whiskers tickling my cheeks. I opened my eyes and stared at her for a moment. The room was navy blue, nearly black, but her eyes were shining bright in the shafts of moonlight that stretched through the window. She stared at me, her pink nose twitching as she began to rest.

I reached out and smoothed my fingers against her small head, petting her lightly. “Miso,” I said, to which she shut her eyes and began purring. “Thank you for looking after him.”

She continued purring, leaning into my hand. I’d always found it strange that Jimin would assume responsibility for a cat when he was struggling to care for himself, but after speaking with Seokjin…I felt understanding beginning to take root in my mind. I’d never realized how important companionship can be when loneliness hits. Seokjin was right. Jimin had lost a lot of people in his life. Perhaps because the full scope of grief was becoming clearer to me, or perhaps because I was tired, but I felt a stinging in my eyes before a few stray tears wetted my cheeks. I continued petting her soft head as she purred. I stroked her head until her purs turned to deep, long breaths. Inhales coming more slowly, exhales lasting longer.

And at some point, I fell asleep with scarce tears drying on my skin.

“Oh! A new dress,” remarked Jimin as I entered his hospital room.

Injung turned to me and smiled, in the process of packing Jimin’s clothes into a backpack carefully. I nodded at each of them with a soft smile. I’d cautiously rifled through the dresser in my bedroom that morning, having touched the freshly washed clothes only to find them still heavy with water. It would take a good while more for them to dry. Instead, I reached inside the drawers and found an old black pinafore, something reminiscent of older times, and a blouse that fit too loose. Jimin too had changed out of his uniform, replacing his pastel hospital pajamas with a comfortable pair of jeans I recognized and a shirt I was sure didn’t belong to him. Like me, it was too big for him.

“I brought a peach,” I said, reaching into the canvas bag I’d found on the coat rack and handing it to him.

Jimin glanced down at the fruit and smiled. He turned it over in his hands and chuckled. “You get me lots of gifts,” he commented.

My cheeks flared. “Well…,” I began with a shrug. “Peaches are good for your cells. They have thiamin and-,”

“Thank you,” he interrupted with a laugh, taking a hearty bite. “Where’d you get it?”

I crossed my arms and thought. “Your employee came by while I was watering the plants. We went to the store together. Seems he is a fairly good cook,” I said.

“Jin?” he asked, brows raised. He thought a moment. “He didn’t say anything embarrassing, right?”

Injung laughed and clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “Are you nervous? Scared he told her you used to read those girly comics?”

“Injung!” shouted Jimin, quickly clamping his free hand over his uncle’s mouth. He glanced at me before smiling quietly and laughing a soft laugh. “He’s joking.”

I blinked between the both of them. “I don’t really see why that would embarrass you,” I said, then shrugged. “Seokjin only had good things to say about you.”

Jimin’s cheeks flushed and he removed himself from Injung’s side. He chuckled and ruffled his hair which had gone fluffy with the humidity. “That doesn’t sound right,” he said, then smiled my way. “Anyway, I’m glad you got a proper meal. Once I get home today I’ll make the place a bit nicer for you.”

I shook my head quickly and grabbed for his arm. “Absolutely not! You are still recovering. No strenuous activity,” I said.

He glanced down at the place where my fingers met the exposed skin of his arm before meeting my eyes with his wide ones. “Uh…,” he began, then laughed, eyes nearly disappearing. “You don’t need to be so worried about me. I’m pretty strong.”

Injung scoffed. “He’s only saying that because he wants you to think he’s cool,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Jimin whipped his head towards his uncle, but as he did I placed both hands on his cheeks and felt carefully. With furrowed brow, I focused on the sensation in my palms. Jimin turned back to me and a pinkish blush bloomed across his cheeks. His eyes scanned me from above, endless pools of deep brown. I focused my gaze on his skin, then sighed and pulled away, crossing my arms.

“But he doesn’t feel cool at all,” I said, shaking my head. “If anything, he’s a little warm. Jimin, do you feel feverish?”

Jimin smiled and shook his head, a bashful warmth in his eyes as he quickly swept them away from me, glancing towards the wall with a breathy laugh. “No, I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

Injung looked as if he was struggling to contain laughter and nodded, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. “Come on, you dorks,” he said, jerking his head toward the door. “I already took care of the paperwork.”

We left the room together, but in the silence I watched Jimin become pensive. He seemed to have something on his mind and I could venture a guess about what it was. He wrung his hands and sighed slightly, eyes on the linoleum floor. I was certain his guilt was tearing him up. But as he caught me watching him, he simply offered a painfully bright smile and ruffled my hair slightly. And I could do nothing but smile in response and let him be alone with his complicated thoughts.

Jimin and I followed Injung down the hallway. As we approached the lobby, Doctor Jung and his son stood, lingering by the checkin desk. “Ah! You’re discharged today,” remarked Doctor Jung with a bright smile.

Hoseok glanced at the three of us and nodded, bowing his head slightly. “Thanks to you,” said Jimin, returning the smile.

Doctor Jung patted his shoulder. “You’re lucky to be alive, Jimin.”

He nodded. “I know,” he said. “I plan to live every day like a blessing.”

Something hot and bitter and unpleasant knotted in my chest. I knew what it was. Guilt. “Good, then,” said Doctor Jung. “I hope I’ll see you around, then.”

“Just…not as a patient,” added Hoseok with a soft smile Jimin’s way.

He laughed and nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

The three of us walked out into the street and began the walk towards Jimin’s apartment. The sky was an edgeless blue dome above us, dotted with clouds and a few jet streams. Living every day like a blessing… I wasn’t sure what that meant. But I knew that, walking beside him, staring up at the sky, feeling the breeze against my skin…I supposed it did feel like a blessing after all. I watched the sky for a few steps until my toe caught on the uneven sidewalk pavement and I lost my footing. I reached out and my hands clamped on both Jimin’s sleeve and Injung’s arm.

Jimin placed a hand on my back and, worriedly, scanned me. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Jeez, you gotta look where you’re going.”

Injung chuckled. “Be careful. If you’re distracted it’s easier to get hurt,” he said, meeting my eyes.

I nodded. “I’m sorry. I should have watched my step,” I said, then sighed. “I was just…I guess I never realized how beautiful the sky was.”

Jimin watched me and a smile teased the edges of his lips. “Nari, were you always sentimental?”

I shook my head. “Oh no. This is…I think this is new,” I said with a nod. “I was just caught off guard I suppose.”

Jimin chuckled and removed his hand from my back, choosing instead to level his eyes with mine and smile gently. “I hope you find more things that catch you off guard.”

Oh no, what was that? A fluttering in my chest? Another heart palpitation? I stared at him for a long moment and as time passed his easy, confident smile morphed into a slightly awkward one, a few terse chuckles escaping him as he cleared his throat and continued walking down the way. The air was soft and warm and the breath entered and exited my lungs comfortably. We passed sun-bleached buildings the color of bone that had become familiar to me in the past days. Perched atop the cliff, overlooking the beach and the water and the endless expanse of ocean beyond I found the walk…

Pleasant.

“Who’s outside?” asked Injung, brows knitted as we approached the flower shop.

I hadn’t noticed before, but he was right to take note. A small crowd of people was congregating outside the greenhouse beside the shop. Here and there I caught plumes of smoke floating into the air. The last person I’d seen smoking was…

I turned to Jimin and raised my brows. “I think it’s-,” I started, then stopped and crossed my arms, glancing away.

Jimin stared down at me, confused for a moment. “Nari, do you know those guys?” he asked, pointing to the group of five who, upon closer inspection, resembled Jungkook not only in age but in blasé demeanor.

I shook my head. “No. I…I don’t know what I was saying,” I said, tossing my eyes seaward.

Injung watched me for a moment before sighing and patting Jimin on the chest as he began walking towards the group. “Don’t provoke them, alright? Let’s just call that cop.”

“Call Yoongi?” asked Jimin with wide eyes. He shook his head. “Definitely not. He told me he’d be busy once he arrested Jungkook-,”

“You don’t think they’re here to retaliate, do you?” asked Injung.

I raked my hands through my hair and, as we walked ever nearer the crowd noticed us at once and began to jeer. “Oh here he comes!” called one, singsongy.

I glanced at him, arms crossed, and scanned his face. Nothing remarkable. Just a young guy with a bandana tied around his bicep. We walked closer, but Injung edged away, seeming uncomfortable. “Poor Jimin,” shouted another. “How’s your chest, buddy?” he asked, taking a wide step forward and shoving Jimin’s chest hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Hey!” I shouted as Injung grabbed Jimin by the shoulders, helping him regain his footing. “Is this some sort of show of bravado? Retribution for one of your own?” I asked.

The one with the bandana around his arm gave me a look up and down before scoffing. “Alright, whose girl is this?” he asked the guys with a laugh. “Looking like The Grudge.” The boys behind him chuckled.

Save for one.

I noticed, taking up the edge of the small party was a face I recognized. Handsome, tan, with smart eyes and heavy brows. It was the boy from the other night. Taehyung. He and I exchanged a look and something passed between us that made me shudder. He had his arms crossed over his chest, eyes cast low, mouth clamped shut. It seemed he wasn’t participating.

“I think it would be best for you to leave immediately,” I said, taking a step towards the ringmaster. I raised my brows. “Unless your group wants more trouble with the law.”

He rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Oh come on,” he said, looking over my shoulder at Jimin. “Having a girl fight for you? You too scared to face us yourself?”

He moved to step towards him and I placed a hand on the stranger’s chest, lifting my eyes slowly to meet his. As I did, I caught a brief flash of something in his eyes and I watched goosebumps raise on his skin. “Leave,” I said, voice low.

The others chuckled behind him. “Hyungwon, looks like you’re getting pushed around by a girl too,” teased one of them.

I peeked around this boy, Hyungwon’s, chest and furrowed my brow at the rest. “What is it about my being a girl that bothers you all so much?” I asked.

They were silent for a moment before Taehyung chuckled and rubbed his forehead. “This is stupid. Let’s just go,” he mumbled.

Hyungwon turned to him and crossed his arms. “What’s stupid about defending Jungkook from this bullshit liar?”

Jimin approached my side as Taehyung and Hyungwon went back and forth bickering. “Stop, okay? Injung is gonna call the police,” he said carefully from beside me. “They’re not gonna leave until they’re forced to.”

I shook my head. “And what happens in the meantime? Just stall them and hope they don’t hurt you? I’m sorry, but I won’t let them affect your health.”

He sighed and gripped his nose bridge. “Jesus, why do you even care? What’s it matter if they hit me?”

I turned to face him seriously and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I care because you did nothing wrong. And furthermore, you’ve been through a trauma. You have a basic right to safety.”

He scoffed. “Can you just knock it off?” he asked, pulling his hair between his fingers and shaking his head. “They have every right to be upset. Jungkook didn’t do it. I’m certain.”

“Did you ever say he did?” I asked.

He sighed. “Doesn’t matter. The result is the same,” he said, then met my eyes with a heavy frustration I couldn’t recognize. “Now stop it,” he whispered, voice stern. But as he leaned away, with an exhale that shook slightly, he added in a mutter, “Haven’t you caused enough trouble for me already?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words emerged. Simply silence. I blinked up at him as he took a few steps away from me, standing with arms crossed over his chest beside the entrance to the greenhouse. I glanced back down the sidewalk where Injung once was, and found it empty. He must have left to make the call to the police. I supposed that was the reasonable reaction. But I hadn’t been able to remain reasonable. Not when it came to Jimin.

But in the end, had my care become a burden?

My chest hurt.

Hyungwon turned back to us after conferring with Taehyung and pointed at Jimin. “You gonna come clean or what?”

Jimin nodded, bending to their intimidation. “I told the police that I was out with Jungkook the night I was attacked,” he conceded, eyes shut.

I watched him, unable to intervene, as Hyungwon approached and knotted his hand in Jimin’s baggy shirt. “Look at me when you’re talking,” he ordered, shaking Jimin slightly.

He opened his eyes and nodded. “I sold him out.”

Hyungwon’s eyes flared as he stared down at Jimin. “You’re admitting it that easily? Not even ashamed?” he asked.

Jimin’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not happy about it either.”

“He probably got strong-armed,” said Taehyung, sensible, from over Hyungwon’s shoulder. The other guys, still engrossed in the action, acknowledged Taehyhung’s words with various grunts. “You know that detective? Min Yoongi?”

Hyungwon rolled his eyes and spat at the ground beside Jimin’s feet. “Who cares? A rat’s still a rat.”

“I say we teach him a lesson,” said one idly from the sidelines.

Horrified, I looked towards the source of the voice but as my gaze swept across them, none of the boys would look at me. I inhaled sharply and bit hard on the inside of my cheek. I felt my toes digging into the bottoms of my shoes and as I uncrossed my arms I noticed reddish half-moons in my forearms from my nails pressing into them. I clenched my fists instead and set my jaw, watching Hyungwon carefully.

“An excellent suggestion,” he remarked with a laugh.

Jimin exhaled slowly and looked down to the ground. I’d never seen him so hopeless. Too much had happened to him recently, perhaps. The shock of it all might have finally gotten to him. But why was he so resigned? Why did it seem as if he felt he deserved the punishment?

Hyungwon poised his arm in the air, angling it down towards Jimin’s face. Anticipating the impact, Jimin squeezed his eyes shut and turned his cheek to the oncoming strike. A tight ball rose in my throat as if I may cry and I bit my lower lip. This was what Jimin wanted. He wanted me to stay out of it. He wanted me to watch passively as I always had. He wanted me to stop interfering.

But as the bandana around Hyungwon’s bicep strained against the coiling of his muscles, I really couldn’t help it any longer.

I hopped from foot to foot for a moment, begging my body not to do what I knew it was going to do. With a frustrated grunt, I sighed and ran towards where they stood beside the greenhouse and, without a single thought, pushed my way between them, wedging them apart. Hyungwon watched, shouting at me, as I shoved him back by the chest with all my might.

“Nari!” yelled Jimin, voice deep and sharp. I felt a fear creeping into my body. Would he scold me more?

Would he hate me…?

“What the fuck is up with your girl, Park?!” screamed Hyungwon, fighting against my hands on his chest.

But I was stubborn, forcing him back with everything I had. “If you’re gonna talk about me, then say it to me!” I shouted, giving his chest one last hard shove, sending him stumbling only slightly backwards.

He fumed down at me, eyes alight with rage, and took a deliberate step towards me. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“You’re not involved, Nari! Jesus, just go inside!” called Jimin from behind me.

I glanced back at him and saw something in his expression that sent a cold sadness through me. Disappointment. His brows were knitted, head tilted to the side, lips parted and arms limply laying at his sides. He shook his head as we locked eyes, and despite his clear discomfort, I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

A vision suddenly flashed through my mind. Jimin’s face, contorted in such a way, an identical way to the one before me now. Disappointed, frustrated, upset…with me. Had I indeed seen this face of his before?

Hyungwon shoved me slightly out of the way, making a clear path towards Jimin. But before he could reach him, I grabbed onto his arm tightly, holding it close to my chest and leaning as hard as I could backwards.

“Can you please fuck off?!” he yelled down at me, shaking his arm.

I glared up at him. “You won’t hurt him,” I said. My voice was strong and steady and…frightening.

Again, something passed through his eyes. He continued pushing against my force, but as he remained relentless I began growing angry. The thought of Jimin hurt, Jimin in pain, Jimin attacked…it sent an icy shiver of rage through me. As Hyungwon shook me, I quickly clamped my teeth down on his upper arm, biting as hard as I could.

“Agh!” he screamed, stumbling away from me as I pulled away, the faint taste of blood on my tongue. Stunned, he turned to look at me, eyes wide.

“Hyungwon, just leave them alone,” said Taehyung, almost sounding bored.

I never broke eye contact with Hyungwon as he scoffed down at me. “You gotta death wish?” he yelled, fists clenched.

I nodded. “I won’t allow someone like you to hurt him,” I said.

At this he fumed, nostrils flaring. Without so much as a warning, he came down on me and struck me hard on the side of the head. Fist on bone, brain jostling, pain immediately radiating from my left temple. I lost my balance and with the force of the punch I was sent flying down towards the ground. I tumbled onto the concrete, my head colliding with the facade of the flower shop. I sat stunned for a painful moment, hands touching my head. My vision was blurry, spinning. I could hear only muffled shouting, arguing. The pain was horrible, but I’d felt far worse. The day I’d awoken…

Compared to that, anything was bearable.

But damn, it didn’t feel nice.

Soon, my vision returned and so did my hearing. Disoriented, I stood to my feet unsteadily and saw an unexpected scene unfolding on the sidewalk. Hyungwon, restrained by Taehyung who was shouting reprimands over his shoulder.

“Why the hell would you hit her?!” Taehyung yelled in Hyungwon’s ear.

Hyungwon, however, hadn’t had his fill of violence and was thrashing against Taehyung’s grip. “Nari!” Jimin called as he slid to his knees beside me. He took my cheeks in his hands, brows furrowed, and tilted my head side to side. “Are you okay? Oh my God, I’m calling the hospital. Oh my God-,”

I brushed his hands away and shakily stood to my feet. He joined, hands touching any part of me he could grab and examining it. I shook him away as I walked carefully towards Hyungwon who, still thrashing about, spat at me. Luckily, because of the restraint his saliva couldn’t reach me. He looked like a an animal in chains, ravenous and insatiable. I swallowed the iron-like taste of blood and wiped some more off my brow. He laughed down at me, still wildly moving around trying to escape.

I simply stood before him, locking my eyes on his. He met them, but the longer our gazes remained steady on one another, the stiller he became. First it was his hands, going limp. Then the arms. After a moment, he had stopped moving altogether. Jimin approached behind me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I couldn’t look at him. I stared at this boy, into the core of him, the angry, flaming, red, insecure center. I could see it all in his flashing eyes.

I felt my hair falling into my eye, sticking to the bleeding spots on my forehead. I couldn’t even bother moving it. “If you even think about touching him again,” I spat, voice low, leaning up towards his face, now only centimeters away, “I’ll kill you myself.”

I watched a shiver run from the bottom of his spine to the crown of his head. His dark eyes went wide as he realized there was no hyperbole in my words. I meant it. And he could feel it. Goosebumps on his skin, irises shaking, mouth ajar.

He was terrified.

I smiled.

“Oh Jesus! What happened?” called Injung from behind us.

I gave a final nod to the frightened boy and turned away. “Let’s go, Hyungwon,” said Taehyung quietly.

This time, Hyungwon didn’t fight. He didn’t do anything, really. Simply walked back with his friends and disappeared down an alleyway beside the greenhouse.

“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how bad that could have been? God, not to mention you already have amnesia.”

“I know.”

“Do you even care that you were hurt?”

I blinked, sitting atop the counter in Jimin’s kitchen, sweet afternoon light streaming hazily through the window. Injung sat in the living room, ear pressed to his phone, still explaining the situation to Yoongi on the other side. Jimin insisted that Injung tell them not to come once things deescalated, but nonetheless Yoongi demanded that all information be relayed to him for record-keeping.

Jimin stood before me, standing between my knees with a wet rag pressed against my forehead. Peroxide, he had said. To disinfect the wound. I knew he kept it handy for the times when thorny plants gave his skin a knick. He exhaled, still staring over my shoulder into the apartment. He hadn’t looked me in the eye since we’d gotten upstairs.

I felt a strange hollowness in my stomach. Dread perhaps. I knew I’d done something to upset him, and the thought of him hating me was horribly uncomfortable. I preferred it when he didn’t even know I was there.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t especially care,” I said.

Finally, he met my eyes and what awaited me was pure disbelief. “How can you say you don’t care? We don’t even know each other and you’re acting like this,” he said, shaking his head with a sigh. He removed the rag and examined it. “Look at how much you’re bleeding…”

“But I do know you,” I insisted.

He sighed once more and turned toward the opposite counter, waving his hands. “Sure, sure. Whatever,” he said. He grabbed a few bandages from his first-aid kit and returned to his spot between my knees. Why did my heart flutter? “You’re so weird.”

He lifted his hand to my forehead, blowing gently against my skin. But I felt…frustrated. Hurt. How could he become so cold after I’d defended him? Was that fair? As he approached with the bandage, I swatted his hand away and hopped onto the floor. Shocks rain up my legs from the impact. I paused to give Jimin a glare.

“Sorry for trying to help you,” I said quietly, brushing him off as he followed me with the bandage.

He groaned. “Jesus, no! No, come back. I shouldn’t have acted like that,” he said, grabbing for my arm and shaking it slightly.

I turned to him and shook him off. “I’m fine. I’ve stopped bleeding so don’t waste your supplies on me.”

His expression fell and he tilted his head back, seemingly exhausted. “Why are you being so difficult?” he asked.

I scoffed and pulled my arm from his grasp. “Weird and difficult,” I said with a nod. Where was this frustration coming from? When had I ever been upset with Jimin? “I’m fine. I’m gonna go take a shower.” When had I learned to say things like ‘gonna’?

I walked briskly past Injung who, still locked in dialogue with Yoongi, paid me no attention. I heard Jimin exhale sharply with a humorless laugh as I exited the scene. As I shut the bathroom door behind me, I clutched my chest and struggled to control my breathing. I was so frustrated. And I was frustrated with the person I’d risked everything for.

Why did it feel so familiar?

I’d never noticed it before, but the ceiling in my bedroom resembled very fine popcorn. It also had a slight indentation, a sagging, in the corner beside the bed where it had been damaged by rainwater. I’d never noticed it before, but the ceiling in my bedroom was horribly, dreadfully, painfully boring. I sighed, arms and legs splayed out as I lie on my back like a starfish, beached on a drying rock. I couldn’t bring my eyes to close and, as time passed, the injury on my forehead was growing more and more painful. It was aching, dull but noticeable.

More than that, however, my brain was busy. As a Reaper, I’d been able to wander and think all night. But now, my human body was exhausted, longing to rest. My limbs felt heavy, sinking into the bed below me. My eyes kept slipping shut, but my brain simply would not keep quiet long enough for me to fall asleep. I’d heard humans complain about insomnia plenty of times, but experiencing it myself made me feel almost sympathetic towards them.

I sat upright and ran my fingers through my clean hair, releasing the scent of strawberries which, strangely, stimulated my appetite. Hadn’t I heard about something called a ‘midnight snack’? I glanced at the clock beside my bed and saw the sharp numbers bleeding into the inky darkness. 12:54 AM. Close enough, right?

I sat upright and pulled my soft shorts up. After I’d finished showering, Jimin had been missing. Injung told me he’d left to care for the shop, but I knew he was simply avoiding me. Had I always been so pessimistic? Nonetheless, when I’d returned to my bedroom I’d found a set of pajamas laid out, folded at the foot of the bed. They seemed to belong to his mother, as the dresser drawer was left slightly ajar.

I sighed as I felt the pajamas now. Why was he so inconsistent? Did he like me or find me burdensome? I shook my head. These thoughts had plagued me all night. There was no use in lingering on them. I padded quietly out into the living room and, silent as a mouse, crept behind the sofa on which Jimin slept. Miso slept comfortably atop his chest, curled up into a small crescent. I stepped into the kitchen and pried open the refrigerator door, mindful to keep the light from reaching Jimin by placing my body in between. I rifled through the shelves for a moment before grabbing a cup of strawberry yogurt with a sigh.

I turned around, shutting the refrigerator on my way, but gasped when I bumped into Jimin’s chest. I grabbed my nose and stared up at him with wide eyes. “What are you-,”

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

I blinked a few times before shaking my head and shuffling around him. “No,” I answered.

“Me either,” he said, mimicking my previous position in front of the refrigerator. He grabbed the same brand of yogurt, shutting the door and grabbing two spoons. He settled onto the counter. Wordlessly, he patted the spot beside him.

I glanced at him for a moment before, with a sigh, I joined him and grabbed the spoon he extended my way. “I’m…I am upset with you I think.”

He chuckled. “You’re very honest.”

“I don’t really know how to be anything else right now,” I said, letting my posture slump as I spooned bites of yogurt into my mouth. “I’m not used to anything yet.”

“I know,” he said softly. “Which is why I should apologize to you.”

I peered at him. “You should?”

He smiled and nodded, moonlight glowing silver in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. I’ve got…a lot on my mind and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair,” he said.

I felt my eyes welling up with tears. What was this? Relief? “I thought you hated me,” I said quietly, rubbing at my dry eyes before the tears could fall.

He laughed lightly and gave my knee a squeeze. “Not at all,” he said. “I’m really sorry I made you think that.”

I nodded. “Good,” I said. “Live your life being sorry to me.”

He laughed again and nodded. “I will.”

I glanced at him, brows furrowed. “What would have happened if I didn’t step in? You would have been hit. Maybe you would have ruptured your stitches. Ended up back in the hospital, bleeding. You would have had to have another lengthy stay. More interviews with policemen. And for what? For…penance or something? Why would you-,”

He interrupted me with a laugh, placing his hand over my lips. “I know, okay?” he asked with a smile.

I felt my skin heat up and glanced away from him, nodding. “If you know, then that’s enough.” His hand fell back to his thigh.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

I shrugged. “It aches,” I said. “But it’s expected.”

He sighed. “I should have given you some ice.”

“I’m fine,” I said, then rested my head back against the cabinet, taking another hearty bite. “In exchange for hurting my feelings, tell me what’s on your mind.”

He laughed lightly, stirring his yogurt with a soft smile. “You’re kinda cute, you know?” he asked.

I stared at him before giving his leg a smack. “Tell me.”

He laughed again before shrugging. “Just…I had to put an old friend of mine in a difficult position,” he said.

“You mean telling Yoongi about Jungkook asking you out for drinks that night?” I asked.

He turned to me with wide eyes. “Huh? How did you know?”

I pursed my lips. “Namjoon told me yesterday, and Jin explained that you two used to be close,” I said with a nod. “I figured you were having a hard time.”

He scoffed. “I know you say you know me, but just how well do you know me?” he asked, laughing. “I just…I feel like I betrayed him.”

I shook my head. “Jimin, what else could you have done?”

“Yoongi already knew we went out together, but I kept saying I couldn’t remember anything,” he said with a sigh. “It’s true, but I did remember Jungkook asking me to go out. That much I really did remember the whole time.”

“You didn’t have a choice, did you?” I asked. “If Yoongi knew that much already, then all he needed was your testimony. I’m sure he pressured you quite a lot.”

Jimin nodded. “But in the end, I’m the one who sold him out,” he said. “And now he’s at the police station, probably getting grilled by Yoongi and Namjoon for a confession that he can’t give because it wasn’t him.” He raked his fingers through his hair, yogurt forgotten as he shook his head, brows knitted. “And it’s all because of me. I’d come after me too, if I was his gang.”

I turned to him quietly and watched his features as he gazed at the floor, expression contorted with guilt. “It must have been hard,” I said. “Holding onto this feeling all alone.”

He stared down at me, eyes round, skin glowing in the soft moonlight. He scanned my face for a moment and again my heart raced. “Nari you…really, why do you care about me this much? What did I do?”

I swallowed hard. “That is…a difficult question to answer,” I said with a nod. “I suppose…well, if you really need an answer it is probably…because I’ve seen in you something very…pure.”

“Pure?” he asked.

I nodded, thinking back to the first time I’d seen him, crouched over his father’s body. I remembered watching the life drain from his eyes as he watched the man collapse onto the ground in a heap, watched him convulse, watched him die. I remembered that horrible sorrow. That loneliness.

“Something pure…,” I repeated, recalling that loneliness in particular. That eternal isolation. “Something that…I could understand.”

“What do you mean?”

I glanced at him. “Alone and cold and frightened and terribly small in a world that’s terribly big,” I said with a nod. “I guess I’ve felt that for a long time. Longer than I even realized.”

He stared down at me as his gaze softened, brows lowering and eyes growing warmer. He inhaled slowly and nodded even more slowly. “I’m sorry I called you weird,” he said quietly. “You’re not weird at all. You’re just sincere, that’s all.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, taking another big bite of yogurt. “I accept your apology.”

“And…well, I guess…I hope that you don’t feel so alone anymore,” he said, taking a peek at me out the corner of his eye, the gesture almost shy. “I feel bad that the thing that ties us together is something that sad.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not sad really,” I said, then shrugged. “I think…seeing that you felt that way too made me feel less alone myself. It’s counterintuitive, but…”

He smiled gently and, his touch featherlight, guided a strand of dark hair behind my ear. “Having you around makes me feel less alone too.”

I met his eyes and smiled despite the jittery nervousness that seemed to occur whenever I looked at him too long. “I’m happy you have people like Injung and Seokjin in your life.”

He chuckled and hopped down from the counter, holding out his hand to help me down. I grabbed it, but as we stood he didn’t release it. I felt flush. “Yeah, me too. Except when Injung’s in my bed and I have to sleep on the couch.”

I blinked at our touching hands and clenched my free hand into a small ball. “Ah…that must be uncomfortable.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m just teasing,” he said, smiling. Then he noticed where my eyes had fallen and he gasped a little. “Ah,” he said, loosening his grip on my hand so it fell to my side. “Sorry.”

“No, uh…it’s fine,” I said, smiling up at him. “I think I feel better now.”

He returned it and nodded. “Me too.”

“I’ll go to bed now then,” I said. “Goodnight, Jimin.”

He grinned and tossed the yogurt cups into the trash. He turned to face me fully and offered a soft, tender smile that bloomed, fresh in the dark night light. “Sweet dreams, Nari.”

Again, I felt flush and instead of staying to chat longer I simply bowed my head and hurried back into my bedroom. My heart, while much more at ease after reconciling with Jimin, was now racing in my chest. I shook my head and shut the door behind me, running my hands through my hair. How shameless this heart was. What was it that it wanted desperately enough to hammer this loudly in my ears?

“My…seems you’re adjusting just fine,” remarked a voice I recognized too well.

I sighed and turned towards my bed where Zero sat, legs crossed, tabbing through The Book under the dull glow of my bedside lamp. “Hello, Zero.”

“Hello, Nari.”

I cringed. “It is…strange for you to call me by that name.”

He glanced at me, deathly smile on his lips, and tilted his head to the side. “Oh, but isn’t it nice that you’re becoming comfortable enough to even adopt a human name? Isn’t that just…nice?”

I sighed and sat beside him. “I apologize. I simply…cannot do as you’ve asked.”

He nodded. “I understand, my dear. Entirely,” he said with an easy shrug. “This boy’s life is just too important.”

“Yes.”

“Much more important than the balance of the very universe itself,” he said with a smile my way. “I understand entirely.”

“Zero, please-,”

“Why is your beloved friend sleeping on the couch tonight? I wanted to get a proper look at him, but found a fully-grown adult in his bed,” he said with a laugh. “Gave me a fright.”

I sighed, gripping he bridge of my nose. As I did, I realized how silly and human that gesture was and returned my hand to my lap, clearing my throat. “That is his uncle.”

“Ah! He has an uncle. Marvelous,” he said, rolling his eyes. “As if this web wasn’t complicated enough.”

I stared at him. “Really, Zero. Can you be this apathetic? These are real, human lives.”

He smiled and nodded. “Precisely. Human lives, just like any other. If I allowed myself to become attached like you have well…,” he paused to laugh. “Well, you’re proof of how well that works out.”

I crossed my arms, frustration again taking hold. When had I ever been this brazen with Zero? “Why are you here, Zero? To tease me?”

He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “No, dear,” he said. “I just noticed something quite odd in The Book that may be relevant to our predicament.”

I glanced at him. “Odd?” I asked, suspicious. He’d proven himself to be quite impetuous since I’d arrived in this human body. I wondered if he was simply toying with me.

He nodded and opened The Book to a page somewhere towards the middle. “Let me quickly find it,” he said under his breath before smiling with a long, “Ah.”

I followed where he pointed and saw a clock running down at an alarming rate. Each second was doubled, two seconds lost for every one second lived. Realization struck me quickly and I turned to Zero with wide eyes. “This is…”

“The person whose time your friend is stealing,” he said with a nod. “Precisely. How clever of you to catch on so quickly.” He grinned and patted my head, however unlike when Jimin did it the feeling was condescending rather than comforting.

I sighed. “So then…this person’s life is being cut short.”

“Yes,” he said.

I scratched my head and watched the numbers fall. 59 years, 363 days, 24 seconds. A long life…

Cut in half.

I rubbed my forehead. “And nothing else is strange in The Book?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not a thing,” he said, then snapped. “Ah, unless you count the clock stuck at zero which…well, I suppose we have spoken about this at length already.” He laughed and flitted his hand.

I sighed. “What is it about this person then?” I asked. My eyes grew wide as I glanced to the side to read the name. Icy chills ran through my body as horror overcame me.

No.

Anyone but him.

Anyone but this person.

Beside the rapidly decreasing clock was the name Ahn Injung.

[lalallicat]

The Year’s Last, Loveliest Smile

Written for Fitzsimmons Appreciation Week 2017

Day 5: Favorite Season

Note: So the prompt for Day 5 is "Favorite Season" and it didn't occur to me until I was almost done writing this that they probably meant favorite season of Agents of Shield, not favorite season of the year.  Oh well. Have a coffee shop AU.

Fitz loves autumn.

He loves the crunch of dried leaves under his feet. He loves the chill that bites at his skin. He loves cozying up in thick knit jumpers, the yarn pilled at the elbows from wear.

But mostly, he loves pumpkin spice lattes.

According to a Buzzfeed quiz, this makes him 85% Basic Bitch, but he doesn’t care. Especially when the lattes are as life-changing as the ones at Mockingbird Cafe. Fitz has always enjoyed the coffee there, even before September rolled around. It’s part of his morning routine to stop by on his way to class to get his caffeine fix.

But midway through September, Bobbi offered him a tiny sample cup and, well. It was a revelation. There’s no other way to explain it. Fitz didn’t know that religious experiences could come in packages so tiny. He started going to Mockingbird twice a day to get his fix. He figures he needs to get as much of it as he can before the holiday season ends and it gets removed from the menu.

Bobbi’s behind the counter when he walks in for his afternoon fix. “Fitz!” She glances at her watch. “You’re early today.” She starts ringing him up before he even reaches the register.

“I can’t go another minute without caffeine,” he admits. “I’m addicted. You should be required to post FDA warnings around the shop.”

Jemma reaches around Bobbi to set down Fitz’s latte on the counter before Bobbi finishes his transaction.

“You’re the best,” he tells her absently, the same thing he tells her every time she hands him his coffee.

“That was fast,” Bobbi observes.

Jemma tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I saw him crossing the street outside the window, so I took the liberty of starting his drink.”

Fitz lifts his cup to her in a silent toast. “Best service ever.”

Jemma smiles shyly at his acknowledgement before turning back to the espresso machine.

Bobbi hands back Fitz’s credit card with a knowing smile. Fitz frowns. Lately, he can’t help but feel like everyone in the coffee shop knows something he doesn’t. Hunter keeps winking at him, Mack keeps chuckling and shaking his head, and Bobbi keeps sending Jemma to check on him when he settles in to study on the weekends, even though they don’t check on anyone else. Even Daisy, his supposed friend, the person who got him addicted to pumpkin spice lattes in the first place, has started refusing to serve him, forcing Jemma to handle all interactions with him instead. Which is weird because Daisy still visits him every weekend, coming over to his dorm for movie nights, occasionally dragging Jemma along with her. He’s not sure what’s going on with everyone working at Mockingbird, but he assumes it’s because they have also figured out that he’s a Basic Bitch.

It’s not until finals week that he figures it out. It’s absolute chaos when he walks in, every table covered in books and laptops, Bobbi and Mack trying their best to efficiently take orders from students and faculty in the line that stretches out the door, trash cans overflowing and milk and sugar covering the coffee station because Jemma, Daisy, and Hunter are too busy making drinks to check to see what needs to be cleaned.

It takes a full ten minutes between when Fitz orders and when he receives his drink, but when Hunter hands him his drink, he still says gratefully, “You’re the best.”

And then, he swears to God, everyone freezes. Even the other customers in line turns to stare at him.

“What is it?” Fitz asks, confused and alarmed.

“I thought I was the best,” Jemma teases, though her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“My best friend is whoever gives me my pumpkin spice latte,” Fitz teases back. “Sorry, but Hunter’s my best friend today.”

Jemma’s smile falters for a moment before it’s back, brighter and sunnier and faker than before. “I should empty the trash cans!” She wipes off her hands on her apron and flees to the back room.

Daisy punches his arm. Hard.

“Ow!” Fitz yelps, covering his arm with his hand. “What the hell, Daisy?”

Mack shakes his head, somehow managing to take the time to express his disappointment even as he’s ringing up customers. “Turbo. Dude.”

Hunter glares at him. “You shouldn’t lead girls on like that, mate.”

Fitz scans their faces, confused. “I don’t understand. Who am I leading on?”

Daisy opens her mouth to answer, but then the door to the back room swings open, Jemma emerging with a pile of empty trash bags bunched in her hands. Daisy surreptitiously nods towards Jemma.

Fitz waits until Jemma’s across the room to lean across the counter. “How the bloody hell did I lead her on? I didn’t even do anything!”

Daisy’s eyes widen in disbelief. “You started coming in twice a day right after she started working here!”

“Because that’s when you started serving pumpkin spice lattes!” Fitz protests.

“You used to hole up in your room on the weekends, but now you study here!”

“It smells like cinnamon here!”

“You’ve told her she’s the best every day for the past two months!”

“She’s makes the best pumpkin spice lattes!”

“Oh my God,” Daisy groans, covering her face with her hand. “Buzzfeed was wrong. You are definitely 100% basic.”

*

The thing is, it’s not like Fitz dislikes Jemma. He’s always thought she’s cute, with her bright smile and messy ponytail and scattering of freckles across her face. And she’s smart too, always asking about what he’s reading and adding her own informed opinions and analysis. And she’s funny, cracking jokes with Fitz and Daisy as they watch movies in his dorm room.

It’s just that it never even occurred to Fitz to be interested in her because she seems so out of his league. If he did like her, it was in the same absent way he liked Gal Gadot and Karen Gillan. Sure, they’re attractive and nice to look at, but they’re the kind of people you admire from afar.

And yeah, Jemma’s nice to him, but she works in customer service - she’s supposed to be nice to him. He’s certain that the only reason Jemma even noticed him is because Bobbi and Daisy and the others teased her about him so much - it’s easy to be interested in people who you already know are interested in you.

So even though Fitz didn’t do anything wrong, he still hurt Jemma’s feelings and he feels bad about it. And it’s not like he’s opposed to getting to know her better. So the first day of winter break, after most of the campus has left to go home, Fitz goes back to Mockingbird to see her.

She’s the only other person in the cafe when he walks in. “I don’t think I’ve actually seen it this empty in here before,” Fitz observes.

Jemma shrugs. “I think everyone is in post-finals hibernation mode.” She pushes a paper cup across the counter. “Here you go.”

Fitz looks down at the cup. “What’s this?”

Jemma’s mouth twists, amused. “It’s a pumpkin spice latte. What else would it be?”

Fitz’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Uh, actually...I didn’t come for a pumpkin spice latte today.”

Jemma frowns. “But you always get a pumpkin spice latte.”

Fitz taps his fingers nervously against the counter. “I mean, I didn’t come to get coffee. I came to talk to - ”

Jemma shakes her head, reaching forward to pull the cup back towards her. “Sorry, it was stupid - I should have waited for you to order.”

“No, wait -” Fitz reaches out to grab the cup, accidentally placing his hand on hers instead. Their eyes meet for a moment, and they immediately jerk their hands back, mumbling apologies.

“I, uh.” Fitz rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I can buy the coffee. Since you already made it.”

Jemma ducks her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to.”

“No - I - I like pumpkin spice lattes. Really. It’s not a hardship.”

Jemma bites the corner of her mouth and pushes the cup back towards him. “You can just have it. New promotion - buy 100 lattes, get one free.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.” Fitz forces himself to look her in the eyes instead of down at his feet. “Maybe I can buy you dinner when you’re done.”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Please tell me this isn’t about the other day. I really don’t care, Fitz. You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”

Fitz huffs, frustrated. Apparently, letting Jemma know he’s interested was easier before he was actually trying to show his interest. “Look, Jemma - if you’re not interested, that’s fine. You can just say that. But I do want to spend more time with you, and it has nothing to do with feeling sorry for you.”

Jemma’s brow furrows, confused. “But - the other day -”

Fitz gives her a self-deprecating smile. “Would you believe me if I said that it never occurred to me that you would be interested in spending time with me too?”

Jemma presses her lips tightly together, apparently thinking it over. After what feels like an eternity but was probably only five seconds, she turns up the corners of her lips into a small smile. “I get off at six.”

“Great. It’s a date.”

*

In March, Fitz starts visiting Mockingbird Cafe three times a day instead of two.

“You know we don’t sell pumpkin spice lattes anymore, right?” Hunter asks when Fitz walks through the door at six. Behind Hunter, Jemma lights up when she sees him. She glances at the clock and starts untying her apron as she walks to the back room.

“I know,” Fitz tells him, watching Jemma emerge from the back room with her purse and sweater. “But it turns out there’s something here that I like even more.”

(Prompt from here: http://diegoalvesisgod.tumblr.com/post/167408180712/christmas-au-prompts)

[blushoseoks]

GREY AREA. (M) | 02

summary: and just like that, your fate was sealed - because min yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. but hell, if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so. 

and sadly, at the time, you didn’t think that your thoughts would become so literal.

❝ you said my heart holds all the wreckage and still manages to grow a forest out of it. ❞ — the forest / kriti g 

[ chapter index ] 

pairing: min yoongi x reader 

warnings: mature, heavy angst

genre: soulmate!au, slowburn

words: 6,805

Two days later you are sitting at a table located outside a small cafe that you and Yoona often find yourselves at. Whether it be because it's nearest to the college you both attend, or how cheap their beverages are, you both are always returning to the quaint little building.

You sit with one leg crossed over the other, hair up in a messy pony tail, back pack hanging lazily off of the chair your back is pressed against. Arms strewn across the surface of the table carelessly, and mind not letting you focus on the words spewing from Yoona's perfectly glossed lips.

For the past few days one thing had been on your mind, had circulated around and refused to let you sleep at night. It took up every inch of room in your brain, tattooing itself onto each fold, sinking itself into each crevice. This one thing being none other than Min Yoongi.

You didn't quite know how to respond to the entire ordeal that occurred a mere two days ago. It was almost as though it hadn't fully registered to you yet, like the events of that night refused to let you react. The only emotions you had been feeling as of late was one: irritation.

Irritation because Min Yoongi had one moment been pressing against you like he was craving you, and the next running from you like you were a disease that was threatening to destroy him. And all of that because he had found out his name was one written across your wrist.

Now, you didn't expect such a negative reaction to one finding a soulmate.

The second emotion you had been feeling was two: curiosity.

Curiosity because of two reasons:

The first was because you yearned to learn everything and anything that there was to know about Min Yoongi. Where he acquired his vast and extensive vocabulary, how he learned to make his words sound like well revised poems whenever they fell from his red bitten lips. When and what made him want to dye his hair such an outstanding color, and whether he knew just how beautiful he was.

The second being because you needed answers, you wanted desperately to know why he ran, leaving you in an empty hallway. Was it because the shock was too much to handle in the moment? How was he able to resist the pull between you both? And most importantly: how could he leave you knowing who you were? That your name was on his wrist?

A part of you was worried you'd never see him again, but the more intelligent side of you pieced things together easily.

He was at a college fraternities party, meaning he either was a part of said fraternity, (which you highly doubted, because he had been the one to leave said house; and because everything about Min Yoongi screamed everything that the stereotypical college frat boy persona wasn't) or, he attended the same college as you. You decided to go with the latter for obvious reasons.

“Y/N?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N are you even listening to me?” A feminine voice says, pulling you from your thoughts. You blink once, twice, thrice, before you are taking in your surroundings. Eyes centering on the only female friend you have that's sitting across from you.

Yoona was the second friend you met when you moved to Seoul a near year ago. Being a mutual friend of Taehyung's and Hoseok's, along with Namjoon.

Yoona was pretty.

A permanent olive shade colored her skin tone, high cheekbones doing numbers to compliment her already gifted face. Blue eyes—a rare find in this part of Seoul, shimmered brightly and deeply. Everywhere Yoona went, she attracted attention. Standing next to her made you feel insecure, but you were always reassured by your friend's that you went off the attractive spectrum and landed abruptly into the “beautiful,” category.

You weren't sure if their compliments and kind words were that of a friend, or were spoken in honesty.

You should have asked Min Yoongi. You stifle a chuckle at the thought.

“Sorry,” you mutter out, once you realize that Yoona had asked you a question. She hesitates, smile weakening just a tad. “Everything okay?” She asks, voice venturing out softly. You think that if honey had a voice, it most definitely would sound like Yoona's.

“Yes,” you pause, “Just didn't sleep well last night.” It wasn't entirely a lie. Yoona nods in understanding, and that seems to satisfy her as she starts to continue the one sided conversation again.

The moment the events played out, was the moment you decided you would not tell anyone that you had found him-- Min Yoongi, not even your parents. You kept that part of your life hidden, something always covering your wrist. A watch, long sleeves, or your personal favorite and most often worn: bracelets.

The only person, excluding your parents of course, that knew of the predicament sitting on your wrist was Taehyung, and even then he did not know the specifics.

You needed to see him again, to ask the questions you had. You needed to figure out what was going to happen between the two of you before you told your parents.

You're once again interrupted as a figure slowly approaches the table, and takes the seat to your right, Yoona's left.

“Good afternoon, ladies. My apologies for my tardy behavior,” Namjoon says, voice deep. He reaches an arm over to your untouched plate and grabs a fry. “I was uh--” he hesitates for a moment, smirk reaching his lips, “held up.” He finishes,

You snort, knowing better. While Yoona rolls her eyes, head tilted towards Namjoon.

“If by, “held up,” you mean too busy shoving your tongue down your boyfriend's throat.” She says, head turning back to her plate, a hint of playfulness etched in her tone.

Namjoon squints before his lips part, “Oh Yoona, just because you're going to end up a lonely and bitter old hag with no one to love, doesn't mean I have to. Let me live, will you?”

You can't help the corner of your lips from raising upwards into a soft smile as you watch the scene unfold gently: Yoona's mouth widening in shock at the boy's response, the smug smile appearing on Namjoon's lips.

It wasn't uncommon for people to date others who were not their soulmate. You did not live in a universe that strictly said you had to end up with your soulmate. Actually, people not ending up with their soulmate's was almost as common as people who did end up with their fated lovers.

You don't fully know the story of Namjoon's. All you know for a fact is that on the night of his eighteenth birthday, when he should have gotten a name on his wrist: he didn't. This, leaving him soulmateless.

He doesn't talk about it, never has brought it up, and you don't ask. Figuring that he'll tell you about it on his own will, when he's comfortable enough to share such a private and personal thing with you. The only thing you can do is respect that.

It's entirely different for Yoona.

She has a name on her wrist, yes, she doesn't bother hiding it either. In bold black letters, sits the name Yugyeom.

She flaunts it around easily, but she doesn't let the whole “soulmate thing,” restrict her, or hold her back. When you asked her about it one time, she had stated that she felt like she could fall in love with anyone, not just the name of the person on her wrist.

“You know that Y/N and I are gonna marry each other.” She jokes easily, eyes landing on yours, perfect smile formed on her lips. Your eyebrows furrow as your eyes roll heavenward, fingers grabbing onto the end of a fry.

“Wow Yoona, how sweet of you, I'm flattered, really. But don't you,” you pause, pushing the opposite end of the fry through a puddle of ketchup. “I don't know, have to be uh, interested in girl's to marry one?” Your eyebrows arch as you question her, sticking the greasy food into your mouth, and chewing it slowly. Namjoon chuckles from beside you, Yoona's pink lips curve to the side in thought.

“I clearly did not think that one through.”

You swallow, offering her a smile afterwards. Namjoon speaking then.

“Speaking of Seokjin—” Yoona cuts him off.

“Actually we weren't--”

That's when you interject, brown eyes meeting blue. “Yoona, it's not everyday that Namjoon talks about his Romeo, so please,” you turn your head towards Namjoon, “do continue.”

A giggle erupts from Yoona's lips.

“Okay for one,” Namjoon says, head turning towards yours, eyes staring into yours. “He is definitely Juliet,” he turns his head towards Yoona, “Two: even when we're not speaking of Seokjin, we're still speaking of Seokjin; and three,” he turns back to you. “Romeo and Juliet were starcrossed lovers, that ended up killing themselves in the name of love, choose a better pair next time.”

“Daisy and Gatsby?” Yoona offers, causing Namjoon's head to shake almost immediately. “No, Daisy didn't love Gatsby--”

“Arguable,” you pipe in before he can complete his sentence. “What about Elizabeth and Darcy?” You ask then.

“I was thinking more of Bingley and Jane.” He responds. Yoona snorts.

“Now, back to what I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he sends a playful glare in Yoona's direction before continuing. “Jin and I have finally decided that we are ready to introduce each other to our friend's.” Your eyebrows uplift suddenly and you can see out of the corner of your eyes how Yoona instantly perks up.

Three months going strong, and finally, he was considering this.

“So this Friday is the date set.”

Yoona sighs as she sinks back into her seat slowly. “Damn it! I work.” A frown replacing the smile that was there moments ago.

“You?” Namjoon asks.

You don't even have to think about it before you're answering, “Yeah, I'm free.” Rarely did you have plans on Friday's that did not consist of attending whatever party Taehyung and Hoseok dragged you to.

“Friday it is, then!” He exclaims, smile appearing on his lips. “Don't worry Yoona, there will be other times.”

She grunts in response. “It's not the same.”

Friday comes sooner than expected, and before you know it you're standing in your room, looking at yourself in your full body length sized mirror.

When Namjoon had texted you and informed you that the meeting place was agreed to be at a club, you had momentarily panicked. You did not own anything that was deemed club appropriate attire; which is why you cringed as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Covering your torso was a long sleeved olive green colored shirt, long slit cut down the middle of your chest, exposing your tanned skin and tiptoeing dangerously around to showing more than what you originally planned on. A pair of black skinny jeans covered your long legs, along with the same short black boots you had worn at the party last Saturday night. Your dark brunette and shoulder length hair flowed easily in pretty curls; and dangling from your ears were a pair of large hoops. Maroon colored lipstick stained your lips, making them stand out.

Your door suddenly opens, and your head turns in the direction, “You ready--” Taehyung stops mid sentence when his eyes take in your appearance. “Wow,” he breathes out and immediately an anxious wave washes through you.

“What? Do I look bad?” You say hurriedly. “Damn it, I'll change, give me five min--”

“Y/N,” Taehyung interrupts, boxy smile settled on his lips.

“You look great, it's just--” he pauses. “Whenever I think of you, I think of the same freshman who passed out in my arms that day in English class. Braces, oversized clothes, boobless--” he offers a huge smile, as you throw him a scowl.

“Oh shut it,” you snap out, grabbing the black clutch that holds your cash, and fake ID off of your bed.

“And when I think of you, I think of the same shit head who believed that vaginas had teeth,” he visibly winces, “and kissed me Sophomore year.”

He grunts loudly, as you push past him, out of your room, and into the hallway. “It was a dare!” He yells, talking about the kiss, “And I was in 7th grade!” He shouts as he follows you out of your room. “My parents told me that in hopes to scare me out of sex!” Your giggles being heard from the end of the hallway.

“Did I really just hear what I think I did?” Hoseok asks as he walks out of his room, joining you two. The only thing that can be heard over your continuous strings of giggles, is the loud nature of Taehyung's groan.

Vibrant lights of orange, blue, purple and green fill your peripheral vision as they dance across the floor and skid up the sides of the walls that encircle you. The music is so loud you can hardly hear your own thoughts.

Clubs weren't your thing, parties were entirely different, or so you thought. Clubs were just-- bigger. At least at parties most of the attendees were around your age, and had the decency to apologize when bumping into you. People at clubs seemed to be ruder, you noted.

Sweaty bodies grind against one another on the dance floor, and every inch of your body screamed at you to leave. But you not only told Namjoon that you'd be here tonight, but you were desperately trying to find a distraction to keep your mind off of Yoongi.

It had been a day short of a week since your encounter and your mind had failed to think or concentrate on anything other than him.

Like you certainly expected, the moment you four had arrived at the club. Hoseok and Taehyung had both disappeared to do god only knows what. Leaving you and Namjoon alone.

“You nervous?” You ask Namjoon as he stands across from you. And it's obvious that he is. You can tell just from one look at him. His large hands clenching the empty glass so harshly that his knuckles turn a pale white like color, his bottom lip is pulled into his mouth and when you look down towards his feet you can see that one of them is tapping against the floor quickly.

And though it's clear to you that he is nervous, he offers you a gentle smile, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. “M'okay, I just--” He pauses, his eyes staring directly into yours, “I just really like him.”

Once you hear this, you reach your right arm towards him, hand moving to rest gently over his shoulder, offering him a soft yet reassuring squeeze.

“And he really likes you, you have nothing to worry about, yeah? Tonight will go smoothly.” You say, offering him a gentle smile. Hoping your words of encouragement help ease his nerves. Then you're moving your hand away from where it rested a few seconds ago.

“M'not worried about him meeting you or Yoona for that matter, you both have a more sturdy head on your shoulders. Don't get me wrong, I love Tae and Hobi. But at times they can be a bit too much, just a lot to take in for a newcomer.” Namjoon admits, and in all actuality you had to agree.

Taehyung and Hoseok were fantastic people, but their filthy mouths, endless sex jokes, and crude behavior could be a bit worrisome.

But you've got it covered, thinking this only an hour ago whilst you sat between the two aforementioned in the cab on the way over.

“Don't worry, I talked to them and told them just how important tonight was for you. Told them they'd better be on their best behavior or they are starving for an entire week.”

It was obvious that Taehyung and Hoseok could not cook to save their lives, leaving you in charge of fixing meals for them.

Your hand is circling around the shot you ordered, when he speaks again. Rim of the glass inches from your lips when his deep voice cuts into the humid air. “What on Earth would I do without you?”

You swallow the liquid quickly, setting the now empty glass onto the surface of the bar. “Hopefully you never have to find out.”

His lips part as if he's about to say something, but something behind you catches his attention.

You watch as his eyes widen a bit, lips pulling up into the widest smile you've ever seen. You don't have to turn to know what's got Namjoon smiling so widely, but you do anyway and you come face to face with two men.

The only thing Namjoon had ever said about Seokjin was that he was attractive, and honestly you wished you had pushed on Seokjin's appearance more, because there are two very attractive men standing in front of you, and you have no idea who is who.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to the taller man, one because he is closer to you, and two because of the shade of his hair. It's a soft looking pink, that makes you want to run your hands through the different locks. Looking at the man's outfit, you immediately feel better about yours. He's dressed in a sweater, one that matches the hue of his hair, and light blue skinny jeans hug his legs.

“As you can probably tell I don't often go to clubs,” he says, causing your eyes to lift to his. A smile is pressing to his lips, and you're met with the same chestnut color you see every time you stare into the mirror. You offer him a smile in return, “Likewise,” is your response as he takes in your appearance.

Namjoon is then taking a step forward so he's standing to the side of you. Glass he held moments ago nowhere in sight.

“Seokjin,” he says, speaking to the man in front of you, “This is my friend Y/N. Y/N, this is my--” You interrupt.

“Your boyfriend whom you've kept hidden for the past three months, yes. Hello.” You chuckle as you speak. Namjoon grunts playfully as he moves to stand next to Seokjin, sliding one of his arms around his waist and tugging him closer to his chest.

“It's a pleasure to meet you Y/N,” Seokjin says. Dark pink, heart shaped lips parting as his soft voice goes almost unheard over the loud music. “The pleasure is all mine.” You state, and then a voice you don't recognize is speaking.

“And I'm Jungkook,” You turn your head towards the man standing a few feet away from Seokjin. His hair is a dark black, styled up into a quiff. He's dressed in a white polo shirt, the collar sticking up around the sides, and a familiar looking black jacket thrown over his shoulders. Your eyes study the material for a few moments, finding that it looks somewhat familiar. You pass off the strange feeling, excusing it by saying that it resembles yours and that being at fault.

Jungkook's eyes are taking in your appearance when you direct your gaze to him. You immediately feel out of place, but then he's speaking. “You certainly dress like you're regularly at clubs,” he says, as his eyes finally meet yours.

“That's what I was going for,” you say, a playful wink sent in his direction. His arm is then outstretching towards yours, offering his hand in a nice gesture. You accept it, allowing your smaller hand to rest in his larger one.

He then exchanges pleasantries and introductions with Namjoon, offering him the same gesture he did you. And then he's turning back to face you.

“Wait a second you look so familiar,” he hesitates, eyes roaming your face. For a moment, you think it's just an excuse to determine if he finds you attractive or not, but then he's speaking again. Eyes not leaving yours.

“Are you in my Psychology class?” He's asking you then, and you wish you could say that he stuck out, but there are over fifty students in that class. Not saying that Jungkook wasn't attractive, because he was. Very much so. With a sharp jawline, and a face that looks like it was sculpted by Aphrodite herself, no doubt in your mind screamed that he had a number of protagonist's basking for a moment of his uninvited attention.

“Second period, Thursday mornings?” You ask, to find him nodding in agreement. “Yes! I knew you looked familiar, I always recognize memorable people.” You feel your cheeks heat up suddenly, due to the compliment that had just fell from his lips, and then Seokjin's hand is pressing to Jungkook's shoulder.

“I thought you said you had two people coming?” Namjoon asks, tip of his nose pressing into Seokjin's pink hair. “Yeah, one of them is in the bathroom, should be out any minute. Fair warning-- he's a little--”

“Grumpy,” Jungkook interrupts. “Your least favorite.” A smirk raises itself onto his lips as he glances at him.

“Hard to get used to.” Seokjin finishes, head turning to send a glare in Jungkook's direction, he immediately throws his hands up in mock surrender.

You let out a chuckle.

“Speaking of friend's, aren't you missing two?” Seokjin asks, head turning to face Namjoon's.

He nods, “Disappeared the moment they arrived which probably means they--”

“Are dancing dangerously close to being drunk,” you finish.

And then, “I've got faith in them, surely they don't want to starve.” You send a knowing wink in Namjoon's direction. “I'll go look for 'em.”

Namjoon nods, “Probably best to check if they are still alive.”

Seokjin and Jungkook share an amused glance.

“Be back soon,” you say and then you're turning around, walking away from the trio.

Twenty minutes later is when you decide you probably should have texted the two boys before trying to search for them in a club that's clearly over packed. It's also when you decide that you're done looking for them.

You've been pushed far too many times, danced against more than you'd like to admit, and attempted to be picked up by a man old enough to be your dad.

Maybe, you think, as you make your way through the dancing people, they miraculously found their own way to Namjoon.

When you reach the bar, you find that the spot where you had left them is taken up by people who most certainly are not them, and before you can even take a moment to fish your phone out of your clutch, Taehyung's loud voice is screaming a familiar pet name he uses on you.

“Baby, love!” He yells, you turning your head in the direction of the noise. And that's when you spot them, now crowded in a corner against a wall. You let out a sigh of relief as you make your way to the boys.

There's an extra body there now, presumably Seokjin's friend who was missing earlier. However, his back is turned towards you as he speaks to Seokjin. The only thing you're able to tell about his appearance is that he has black hair.

Taehyung's arm is wrapping around your waist as he tugs you into his embrace. “Where have you been, pretty?” He asks. You lift your head, smelling the familiar scent of intoxication surpassing his lips. “Looking for your and Hoseok's dumbasses,” is your response. Earning yourself a soft, “Hey!” From Hoseok who is standing to your left, Jungkook next to him.

Your eyes find Namjoon's, “You could have texted me to let me know they found you!” You say, a laugh leaving soon afterwards.

“I tried, no signal!” Namjoon shouts over the noise, offering you an apologetic smile. You return one of your own as you then turn your attention back to Taehyung. Whispering in a voice that can only be heard by him. “So, what are your thoughts?”

He mimics Namjoon's movement from earlier and presses the tip of his nose into your hair. His lips hovering over your ear as he speaks. “I like 'em all, 'specially Kook.”

Kook? Were they already on a nickname type basis?

“Jungkook and I actually know each other,” Hoseok pipes in a moment later. “Well sort of.”

You raise an eyebrow in question.

“We're in the same dance class,” Jungkook says.

You nod in understanding, and really you should have pieced together the information because now that Hoseok and Jungkook are standing by each other, you can see how their bodies somewhat resemble each others. Muscles prominently standing out in similar places.

“So, are you prepared for Mr. Benjin's test next week?” Jungkook asks you, causing a soft whine to fall from your lips, head shaking just a tad.

“Absolutely not,” Taehyung says for you.

“No matter how hard she studies, she passes with only a point or two above failing.” Your lips tug down, forming a deeper frown.

“It's true,” you sigh out.

“Don't worry,” Namjoon interjects. “We'll still love you when you flunk out.” Your eyes narrow as your head turns in his direction, ready to send him a glare.

“And when you have to resort to stripping to support yourself.” Taehyung adds from beside you. Immediately, you use your right arm to push against him, elbowing him right in the gut in retaliation to his comment.

“Shit,” he wheezes, doubling over, arm clutching his gut in pain. This causes a chorus of laughter from Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok.

You take a step out of Taehyung's embrace, eyes rolling just a tad.

“Well,” Jungkook says a moment later. “I just so happen to have a perfect grade, and would be more than happy to tutor you.”

“Really?” You ask, eyes widening just a tad.

But before he can respond, Seokjin's soft voice is filling the air.

“Oh! You're back, how rude of me, this is my other friend.” And as the words falls from his lips. The stranger turns.

And as soon as your eyes meet, you feel it.

The warm feeling instantly spreading throughout your body.

You suck in a deep breath as you come face to face with the same man who left you standing in an empty hallway almost a week ago.

Your fingers immediately itch to reach out and touch him. Aching to feel the familiar burning sensation that his skin left on yours.

He glances away quickly, his eyes resting anywhere but yours.

The first thing you take notice of, is the most obvious, his changed hair. Where silver sat a mere week ago, was now replaced with a dark shade of black. You weren't entirely positive if it was the glare from the strobe-lights, or if there were actually strips of dark blue scattered in random spots around strands of hair.

Your eyes then slowly focus on his face, and he's as beautiful as he was the last time you saw him. Skin nice and tan, lips still red and more bitten than you remember. You take notice of his locked jaw, narrowed eyes, and scowl written across his features. You decide within ten seconds that you liked it a lot better when he smiled.

You don't know what to say, or how to act. Shell shocked and frozen in place, because here he was standing in front of you, looking as though it was the last thing he wanted. It made something inside of you turn unpleasantly.

Words that don't bother to register in your mind before they fall from your lips, a second after the strobe-lights have disappeared and the blue is still sitting in his hair, are spilling out in a matter of seconds.

“What's with all the exotic hair colors?” You question out loud. Desperately trying to break the tension that sits heavily in the air. Then, to save yourself, you flash your eyes to Seokjin's. You offer the best smile you can manage due to the events unfolding in front of you, and he returns it. His own looking a lot more genuine than yours.

“You think that's exotic?” Seokjin says, rhetorically, eyes flickering to Yoongi's freshly darkened hair. “Last week it was silver, you should have seen it then.”

I have.

Is what you want to say, but you keep the two words at bay by rubbing the red lipstick staining your lips, together.

“Nice to meet you,” Yoongi says in a quiet voice. It's hard to hear over the music. His tone sounds somewhat clipped, if you've heard correctly. You watch as he forces a smile, it looks odd on his mouth.

His arm twitches, like he's about to extend it and offer you a handshake. But he decides against it at the last second. Leaving it as his side, perhaps he didn't want to touch you.

The idea bothers you.

“I can say the same to you.” Your voice quiet and feeling somewhat obligated to respond. Everyone's eyes have drifted from the two of you, none of them sensing anything out of the blue.

He finally allows his eyes to meet yours for the second time that night, and you can almost feel the utmost of anger that rests in his dark orbs. It reminds you of the way they looked the night after he had found out your identity.

“Now,” Seokjin's voice booms loudly, captivating your attention. “That everyone's met everyone, how about some drinks then?” Seokjin suggests, earning a few whoops from Hoseok, and noises of agreement from the others.

“Yeah,” you say very quietly to yourself more than to anyone else. Your eyes are downcast as you focus on the floor of the club, “I could definitely use a drink.”

Somewhere between the first and third round of drinks, Taehyung and Hoseok had once again, disappeared. Which, really shouldn't surprise you.

It doesn't seem to bother Namjoon, him probably thinking the more they stay away the better, at least for now.

You don't exactly know how you should feel towards Yoongi.

Anger at the way he's treating you? Relief that you've found him again? Or agitation that he's trying his best to avoid you? Doing so by gluing himself to Seokjin and Namjoon and refusing to look anywhere in your direction. You just didn't understand. You can't ignore the questions from drilling into your mind. Questions you so eagerly wanted answers to.

One thing was for certain, you were happy to see him again. Even if it was clearly evident in his behavior and facial expressions that the same could not be said for him.

“So,” Jungkook says, drawing your attention and attempting to make small talk. He's standing a few feet in front of you, both of you several feet away from Yoongi and the love birds.

You're near the wall, off to the side to try to stay out of the way of clubgoer's. Jungkook's eyes are peering into yours, a smile fitted on his lips. “Namjoon said you're a Freshman?”

You nod in response, before adding a small, “Yup,” popping the 'p,' at the end.

“And how do you like it so far?” He questions.

You hesitate a moment, asking yourself the same thing. It was different from highschool. The teachers were quite more outgoing and more intuitive. Always joking with the class, and cussing whenever they wanted to. Plus the change from living in a small town to a big city was exciting, the freedom it brought with it was one of the things you enjoyed most.

You settle on, “It's an alteration, but not a bad one.” as your response, he nods.

“Are you a freshman too?”

“Nope,” he says, smile stretching, hand curling around the neck of the beer he's holding onto. “Sophomore, which means I'm no longer the youngest of the group.”

You let out a slow chuckle. In the short hour that you had known of his existence, you had decided that you really liked Jungkook. He was veritable, kind, and seemed to have good intentions.

Before the conversation could carry on, Seokjin's long arm is wrapping aroung Jungkook's shoulder. The palm of his hand moving to pat flatly against the black jacket drowning Jungkook's body.

For the second time that night, you give that jacket your attention.

Now, with knowing that Yoongi is in the same proximity of you, you're able to figure out just exactly why that jacket looked so familiar. You were positive that it was the same jacket Yoongi had been wearing.

Seokjin starts to speak to Jungkook, asking him something that doesn't include you. Out of privacy and respect you turn your head then to the side. Your eyes watch as Namjoon and Yoongi talk about something you can't quite make out from where you are standing.

Yoongi must sense your gaze, because his body reacts in the most minuscule of ways; his shoulders stiffening, body tensing. It's almost as though he can feel your stare.

And oh.

That's right.

He most definitely can.

You feel your cheeks heat up then, and for the first time you find yourself cursing the perk of being soulmates.

Now you couldn't stare without him knowing, and not staring was hard. Especially when your entire body screamed at you to give the boy your attention, all of it, whether unwanted or not.

His head is suddenly turning in your direction, dark eyes staring directly into yours. An eyebrow cocking upwards, as if to ask you why you're staring at him.

It quickly starts to feel like its hard to breathe. Your breath catching in your throat, and your head turning back to the two men who have been lost in conversation.

Just at that moment, Seokjin's head turns. His eyes then flash between yours and Yoongi's, a question at the tip of his tongue. His lips part as if he's about to say something, but you're suddenly speaking, trying to offer a distraction.

“I think I'm going to get another drink,” You breathe out, left hand wrapped around the empty beer bottle you've been cradling onto.

Jungkook nods in acknowledgment, clueless it seems. “Everything alright?” Seokjin asks, curiosity in his eyes. He seems to have dropped whatever he was going to say a few seconds ago. You nod quickly, “Yeah, just a little crowded. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

You spare a glance in Namjoon's direction, a faux smile resting on your lips as you find his eyes on yours. His head tilts in a silent question and you uplift your beer bottle, telling him just as silently that you're going to replace it. He nods then, attention turning back to Yoongi.

You pretend not to notice how Yoongi's eyes follow you. And then you're turning, making your way to the bar.

Ten minutes have passed and you still hadn't returned to the boys. Small body pressed into one of the stools, sitting at the bar.

Your nimble fingers have just curled around the second shot you've ordered when you no longer feel alone. You turn your head at the figure approaching you, and your heart feels like its dropped in your chest when you see that it's Yoongi.

He stops when he's a few feet away from you, and he could easily come closer if he wanted too but he stays where he's at. His eyes are narrowed as they land on yours, body tall.

Heat.

“Uh,” you mutter out after a few silent moments pass. “Hi?” You state, though it comes out in more of a question type tone.

He looks at you, irritation present in his expression. Red lips parting as he speaks. “What do you think you're doing?” He bites out, causing your eyes to widen just a small amount. You're taken aback by how mean he's sounded.

“E-excuse me?” You say, voice frail with a hint of shock etched in your words.

His eyebrows furrow before pulling together in what seems to be clear frustration, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. You're confused. And you voice your thoughts out loud, desperate to get him to stop staring at you the way he is.

“I'm sorry, have I done something wrong?”

He snorts, loud and over exaggeratedly. You're starting to become a little on edge.

“Don't play coy with me, Y/N. I asked you a damn question, I expect an answer.”

Your fingers clench around the base of the shot glass you're holding onto, and before you know it anger is gnawing its way out of your lips.

“You've only asked me one question, Min Yoongi.” You watch as he flinches at his name as it ventures past your lips. “And I thought that what I was doing was pretty self explanatory, but I suppose it can be easily misunderstood.” You then lift the shot placed in your left hand upwards before speaking again. “This is called a shot,” sarcasm drips from your words. “And drinking it is what I'm doing, please watch for a demonstration.” With that being said, you bring the brim up to your lips, downing the liquid and trying not to wince as it burns its way down your throat. You set the glass back on the surface of the bar.

He scoffs, an effortless chuckle leaving his mouth as he shakes his head. “You're unbelievable!” He exclaims. “I'm talking about your intentions, what you're doing here. First, you show up in my English class--”

“Wait, what?”

He stops abruptly.

“We share a class?”

Your eyes raise to his. “And you didn't even bother coming up to me?” Your agitation growing by the second. Yes, he had ran from you, but you had thought it was just because of the shock from finding you, was he actually wanting to stay away from you?

“Oh please, don't act like you didn't notice,” a pause and then he adds, “or that it wasn't part of your plan.”

You're utterly confused.

“Yoongi, I have no idea what you're fucking talking about. So either clear things the fuck up, or stop insinuating shit.”

You don't meant to sound as harsh as you do. He's obviously accusing you of something, and doing it rudely, you just want him to be clear in what he's talking about.

He looks slightly put off due to your words and tone of voice.

“I'm talking about whatever your plan is, Y/N.”

You raise your eyebrows, indicating that you're waiting for more of an explanation.

“You're really going to make me spell it out for you?”

He pauses, like he's waiting for an answer.

You blink.

“Fine. I rejected you at the party, and clearly you can't take, 'No,' as an answer. And because I don't want anything to do with you, you're trying to weasel your way into my life.”

Your heart seems to stop at his comment, he had just approved your suspicions.

He takes a moment before continuing.

“I don't know how you managed to find out about my class schedule, or figure out who my friend's were, but I'm warning you now,” he takes a few steps forward, eyes glaring into yours. You can smell the mint on his breath as he speaks out his next sentence.

“Knock if off and fuck off. You mess with my friend's or the people important to them, and you'll be sorry.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart stopping. Before you can even register what he's fully accused you of, before you can even defend yourself, he's turning away. Sauntering back in the direction of where the group is.

He leaves you sitting at the bar stool. Utter anger coursing through your veins, and tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

This was one thing you positively hated: whenever you were beyond the point of anger, you cried.

But it was more than that, you knew it. Min Yoongi had just rejected you, had told you that he didn't want to be with you.

And it hurt.

You were absolutely seething, and upset. Different emotions filling your being.

What gave him the right to think of you in such a way? He didn't know you, how dare he act like he did, like he knew what your intentions were when you didn't even know what they were, yourself.

You wanted to leave. But you were here for Namjoon, and Namjoon only. And running from your problems never got you anywhere in your past. That's when you decided that there was no way you were leaving this club.

At least not until you had a chance to defend yourself against Min Yoongi and his allegations.

next part: three.

a/n: i apologize in advance for any grammatical or punctuation errors. also, im not sure if this chapter was too long to be considered enjoyable. i hope you liked it! please let me know, feedback is very much appreciated and highly welcomed.  

[jiminwolf]

When the cherry blossoms fade

Soulmate!Jiminxreader oneshot

Genre: Soulmate AU/ Fluff

Summary:The fate entwining You and Park jimin are much stronger than they seem.

A/N: The whole story was inspired by this song written by B1A4’s Jinyoung. I actually started writing this story in May last year when the song first came out, but I guess I took too much time to work on it and even after IOI disbanded I'm still not done with this. If there are mistakes and sudden changes in writing style, please keep in mind that i spent an entire year on this. This is still unedited.

Prologue

Year 00

Tuesday 2:11 A.M.

The hospital

A new life is brought into the world, loud wails and cries filling the small operating room, the pungent smell of blood filling the air. The new mother tears, her husband grasping her hand tightly, still unable to let go after the tedious 6 hour delivery filled with painful contractions that made her feel like ripping all her hair out. The doctors and nurses smile at her brightly, and she can only reciprocate with a weak smile.

The newborn is wriggling, struggling against the doctor’s grasp, as he brings the child over to the exhausted parents. A mark is fresh on its tiny, pink wrist.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl.”

The parents lean over to carry the small bundle of joy, excited to see her mark. They both gasp in shock, as the mother’s fingertips smooth over that certain spot.

“She has two, what does this mean? Is there something wrong with her?”, the mother worriedly questions, for she has never seen anything like it before.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Babies that have two marks combined together are very rare, yet very lucky. It just means that she has a second chance to meet her soulmate again if she happens to miss the first chance.”

The pair sighs in relief, and return to staring lovingly at their child.

The soulmate system was established to save mankind, for there were simply too many people in the world who failed to find a partner in life. A tattoo, often known as ‘the mark’, forms on every newborn. Each mark is unique to two individuals in the world, and often acts as a hint to a significant event occurring in both of the soulmate’s lives where the two will finally meet. However, once the two meet, it is necessary for the both of them to recognise each other as soulmates. If the opportunity to find each other is missed due to the both of them failing to recognize each other in the crowd, the mark gradually fades to nothing. A person with no mark is looked down upon in society, and to have no mark is a disgrace to the family name. Once the soulmates successfully recognize each other, both their marks remain permanent and stay for life. The meeting between soulmates can occur at  any point in time.

---

The start.

Year 04

Saturday 4:55 P.M.

Your house

The summer was getting to your head, the heat rising up around you, surrounding and suffocating you. The climate is hot and humid, the sweat dribbles down your tiny forehead and the baby hairs that fall out of the little braid your mother did for you stay plastered to your neck, the minimal amount of clothes on your figure all glued onto you with sweat. Sticky, icky, disgusting sweat.

Despite the sweltering heat, you were sitting outside by the steps that led to your little house by the countryside. Mommy is in the living room watching television, you think, swinging your small feet around where they are unable to touch the ground. You hum a familiar tune, the same tune that you hum with the other neighborhood kids when you go out for ‘adventures’ around the small cluster of houses.

You glance at the daisies, the marigolds, the budding tulips that sprout up in your garden; the bees that buzz excitedly around them in a frenzied dance. You pause, and wonder, how nice it would be if I could draw the flowers with my crayons and give the picture to mommy as a present? You immediately scramble to your feet but turn to meet soft fabric.

“Daddy!” You exclaim excitedly.

He puts a finger to his lips, and you immediately quieten down. In his hands, he has two red packets, dripping with water from the packet. You have no idea what it is called, yet you love it so much. He passes you one, and you desperately tear open the packaging to reach for the sweet treat within. It is icy cold and tastes like fruit, yet the artificial taste of it lingers on your tongue afterwards. As you continue to gobble it up, your father whispers, “ It’s called a popsicle, sweetie.”

You glance up at him with glassy eyes, your pouting lips stained by the red food colouring found in the popsicle, before bursting out into a fit of giggles. He smiles with you too. The two of you sit side by side, watching the cars drive past the front gate, whilst sucking on your strawberry flavoured popsicles.

The heat causes the popsicle to melt quickly, sending glossy red syrup running down from your hand to your arm. You rub at the ruby red liquid, only to make your hands stickier and the situation messier. You stare at your dirtied arm in disgust and discomfort. Your father laughs again.It is then you first notice the weird looking mark on your right wrist.

“Daddy.”

“Hm?”

“What’s this?”

He turns to inspect your tiny wrist; but he knows very clearly what you are talking about, the mark on your wrist still ever so clear despite the intrusion of the new sticky, red lines across your skin.He holds your tiny wrist delicately, rubbing soothing circles on the porcelain smooth skin.

“It’s your mark.”

“My mark?”

“It will help you to find your future husband, a person you will love even more than Daddy and Mummy”

Your lips form an ‘O’ shape, then you frown in thought, the deepest kind of thoughts a four year old could possibly have.

“But I think I’ll still love Daddy and Mommy so much more.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, one a four year old will only interpret as happiness, before turning to face the little girl and gaze at her lovingly. She looks ever so innocent, so protected from the ways of the world.

He mutters under his breath,“We’ll see then.”

---

Year 18.4

Monday 10:47 P.M.

Someone’s House

The party is still going strong, but you feel like you’re dying. Young adults your age are scattered around the house, some grinding feverishly against each other on the the makeshift dance floor, loud pop music blasting from the cheap speakers, flashing lights that seem to make your headache even worse. Others are either seated on the couch beside the dance floor or are in the backyard. Most of them are couples, making out wherever they can. If your parents were here, they would have commented, “No sense of social modesty!”

But they aren’t here, which makes things 10 times better and 10 times worse.

The heavy bass of this music is deafening, and you aren't sure it's the music or the alcohol clouding your mind that sends the surrounding walls thumping to the beat.

Your roommate, Claire Park, the one that got you stuck here feeling like shit in the first place, is nowhere to be seen. You scan the place, the bright, flashing lights impairing your vision. Your head is throbbing like crazy and you are very sure you look very haggard. All you want to do now is get out of this damn place. You had a shot too many, despite knowing very well that you cannot handle liquor. The guys that were initially hitting on you have also moved onto other girls, leaving you drunk and stuck to the kitchen counter.

You saunter over to the living room, the current dance floor, and finally spot Claire. She defines the word ‘goddess’, literally. She is right smack in the middle of it, flaunting her jaw-dropping physique accentuated in a sparkling silver dress, grinding on a jock at the same time. He looks so familiar, yet you can’t lay a finger on who the hell he is. You, on the other hand, look like a potato. Absolute crap, decked out in a suspicious looking hoodie and sneakers, which earns you dirty looks and sniggers from the cheerleader group a few meters away from you.

Just before you can reach out to her, you feel bile bubbling over in your stomach and you instinctively cup your hand over your mouth, rushing upstairs towards one of the available toilets, only to find that it is locked because of some stupid couple in there. You rush into the other toilet and breathe a sigh of relief when you find that it is unlocked. You lean over the seat and release. Wiping off the excess spit on your mouth, you rise and flush the toilet.

Your phone suddenly rings and when you see the Caller ID, you feel like slapping yourself. It’s your parents. You’re supposed to be studying in the dorm as finals are round the corner. You hesitantly pick up the phone.

“Hello? Are you studying now?”

“Uh..um yeah, I am.”

“Why can I hear music in the background?”

“Um...I like to listen to music while studying??”

You are such a horrible liar.

“You get your lying ass back to your dorm right now! I am in your room right now and there isn't a single soul in here! Don't you get how important studying for your exams are? How can you still go to parties at times like this?”

You mutter a few apologies to your parents on the other side of the line and sigh as you end the call. What a bummer.

Pissed and grumpy from the alcohol and the phone call earlier, you storm right onto the dance floor, pushing and shoving other party goers away to grab Claire’s hand, earning a few glares from the surrounding partiers as you practically drag the girl shouting in protest out of the house. The both of you stumble out, and your lungs relish the feeling of fresh air after being trapped in that stuffy old house for the past 4 hours.

“Hey! What the hell man! I just managed to meet some cute guys. The night is still young!” Claire whines. She's the kind of girl you would classify as a goddess and a troublemaker at the same time.

“My parents just called. I just got myself into some deep shit.”

“What?! You should have told me earlier, I would have left with you.”

“Says the one who got me into this kind of shit party.”

“At least there were cute guys! You should have seen! I—-”

You cut her off abruptly.

“No thanks. Now can we get both our asses back to the dorm? I’m strangely hungry after puking so much.”

“..Or maybe we should go check out that new Chinese Korean restaurant near the dorm. I heard they open till eleven!” She giggles.

Sometimes you really just love and hate your roommate at the same time.

Year 18.4

Sunday 2:31 P.M.

Wang’s Chinese-Korean food

Jimin

Earning pocket money has never been this nerve wrecking.

It’s his first day working as a part-timer at Wang’s Chinese-Korean food, and already females are eyeing him like a tasty morsel.

He had only ended up there because of his stupid roommate, Kim Taehyung, who told him that the part time job would be a good deal, good pay, flexible hours. What he wasn't told was that it already had a reputation within the campus despite it being a new store, something that only transfer students that had just joined this term would not be well aware of. That is exactly what he is.

The restaurant is situated near the campus, and is known to have attractive waiters. Very attractive waiters. As a result, both senior and junior girls flock to the place after lectures, determined to either talk to them or score one of their numbers.

Sadly, he wasn’t aware of this particular situation at all. He didn’t feel that he was particularly good looking whatsoever, or rather, when he was compared to the other six boys working the same shift as him.

Kim Seokjin, a tall wide-shouldered lad slightly older than him with the face of an idol, makes him seem like your typical Prince Charming. He cares for every single customer; and girls swooning over him has become so common that he is used to it already.

Min Yoongi, with flawless, glowing skin that snow white would even be jealous of. He seems like an ice prince, but once you get to know him, he can be pretty chill. He has legs that are too pretty to be on a man.

Kim Namjoon, tall and charming, with a gentlemanly air that makes girls flock around him, desperate for attention. His pastel pink hair can be easily spotted around the restaurant, accentuating his glowing olive skin that girls drool over.

Jung Hoseok, a cheerful and energetic man, is super nice to everyone around him, and has a perfect ski slope as a nose bridge. His radiant aura infects everyone around him, giving everyone in the shift a newly found energy.

Kim Taehyung, perfect height, perfectly defined features,a perfect deep voice that surprisingly does not fit his age. His annoying roommate and a fast worker, yet he tends to goof around on the job.

Jeon Jungkook, his favorite and also the current maknae, has flowing onyx locks that frame his doe like features. He is often nicknamed ‘The Golden Maknae’, and he does not deny it, though his only current weakness is girls, but it increases his likeability by a ton.

Then there’s him, just good old Park Jimin, who has totally no idea why girls are chasing him like crazy. He doesn’t mind anyway, since the job earns him good money and the others treat him well.

Then he has an absurd thought : Was there the slightest chance that he could meet his soulmate? Unfortunately, he is dragged out of his reverie for the umpteenth time by Hoseok’s shrill screams for help with the ice water at table 10.

The rest of them chuckle and he rushes over to give Hoseok a hand, but the thought embedded in his mind just doesn’t fade away. It sticks to his mind just like bubblegum to the sole of a shoe, and he smiles to himself, and the group of girls in the far corner start squealing like crazy.

Maybe, he thinks.

Just maybe.

Year 18.9

Friday 10:35 P.M.

Campus

Your stomach growls for the very fifth time, and you are only halfway through the first lecture. The other students that sit near you stare at you in disgust, and you whisper silent apologies to them. Claire is all the way at the back of the hall, already making herself comfortable with the surrounding students.

You scoff at her, only to slump back in your seat in agony because of how hungry you are. You have food in your bag, in fact lots of food that your mom prepared for you that morning. There is carbonara, a tub of salad, Oreos and a bag of chips in your bag, but it would be too risky to start eating in the middle of the lecture. You calculate your chances, considering the fact that the current lecturer has hawk eyes and he would not hesitate to shout at you with that microphone of his and publically embarrass you for life. The students around you would also cause a big commotion upon sight of food which would in turn result in you getting spotted by the teacher.

You sigh, and reach into your bag, fingering the smooth plastic packaging of the Oreo packet, before sneakily popping one in your mouth. You chew once, twice, then reach for the second chocolate biscuit in the pack. The now empty blueberry coloured packaging is then abandoned in the small bag you own, and you hum a soft merry tune to yourself. The students behind tap your shoulder and shush you up. Three small chocolate biscuits would obviously never be able to satisfy your hunger, yet it is enough to last you through another lecture.

You turn your attention away from the scripts, notes and colorful stationery scattered around your tiny makeshift table and scan the hall; shifting uncomfortably in your seat Most of the students look super bored while taking notes down from the lecture. The lecturer is busy telling everyone his life stories while forcing them to listen as if it is some inspirational speech. Nobody is listening, except for the few new faces you spot within the crowd. Most of the girls and boys scattered amongst the front row are busy taking down whatever he says, a telltale sign that they are newbies in this school. One boy with hair the colour of a setting sun; the colour of maple leaves hanging on the trees in breezy autumn, sits in the second row. It makes him stand out in the whole hall full of students. None with a colour as striking as his. His hair looks so velvety soft, just like liquid gold.

He casually threads a hand through his gorgeous hair, then moves to continue taking notes down. Even with such a simple gesture, he oozes charm from every part of him. His aura built from sunshine is basically that alluring.

Wow, what a find.

You lean forward to take a closer look at him; your new interest. To be honest, you have never been this attracted before, not in this particular manner. You almost never take much notice of your surroundings, as you could not care less about the people around you but this, this boy, immediately catches your eye the moment you spot him. It isn't just because of his hair, instead something else, something you just can't lay a finger on, that makes your heart race at abnormal speeds.

At this moment, he chooses to turn around and meet your eye. Even from such a far distance, you notice how his beautiful eyes twinkle. A connection as thin as a string of spider silk forms between you and him, and the world feels like it stopped for that three seconds for the both of you to hold your breaths and just stare.

You quickly turn away and cup your face, feeling it heat up rapidly; your heart fluttering. The string is broken, and you are left dangling and confused. You turn back to look at him, only to realize that his back is now facing you once again.

You slump back into your seat and whisper to yourself, “What the hell was that.”

The bell suddenly rings, and the whole student body is in a hurry to escape the tiny hall. You are the only person still glued to your seat, eyes staring into blank space. The students quickly drain out and take to the halls, enjoying their next 5 minutes of freedom between empty classrooms and lockers. You don't even notice.

“Earth to y/n, earth to y/n, are you in?”

You snap out of your trance and glare at the waving hand in front of your face. You suddenly remember the boy and shoot out of your seat, startling Claire and sending her stumbling back a few steps.

“Where is he? Where has he gone?” You exclaim, whipping your head around the now empty lecture hall, leaving you with a confused Claire.

“Whoa wait what who?”

“Y’know, the orange haired boy.”

“Oh him? He’s a transfer student isn't he.”

“I already know that. Did you see where he went?”

“Yeah,he just left the hall like 1 minute ago.”

You grab your bag and sprint out of the hall and into the corridor, desperate to find his familiar face again, but all that meets your eye is an ebony crowd, no boy with hair like sunsets in sight, except for a senior year student with pastel pink hair leaning against a locker, smirking at you.

You sigh in disappointment before a panting Claire collides into you head first from behind.

So much for luck.

Autumn boy is gone.

Year 19

Friday 6:46 P.M.

Dorm room

It’s been a few months since you last saw him.

Okay maybe not just a few. About

You seem to have forgotten him, yet it doesn’t seem like it too. What have you been doing with your life.

Music blasts from your room, and you lie motionless on the bed. Thoughts of studying have already been abandoned and you honestly just feel like staying in your room for the rest of the day doing nothing. You glance at your desk, back at your hand then back at the desk again. The feeling of skin against fresh linen. The refreshing scent of the sun that is embedded in your blanket makes your toes curl in pleasure. You roll yourself up in the sheets to form a giant human burrito, the warmth from your body contrasting with the cool, humid air that tickles the tips of your toes that stick out from inside the blanket.

Soft rhythmic tapping of raindrops on your window have been overwhelmed by the heavy bass of the song. You wiggle out of the comfy blanket and turn to sit at your bedside. Your toes trace tiny circles on the cold wooden floor. Staring at the raindrops against the backdrop, the window forms a barrier, separating the two worlds. The soft lavender fabric of your oversized sweater pools around your figure. It is raining heavily outside, yet it accentuates the lovely colour of the sunset outside. It reminds you of your favourite season,autumn, where the leaves of maple trees gradually transform to a beautiful amber shade.

You then remember the boy you had seen last month, his bright, silky hair standing out in the crowd. You sigh to yourself, then land softly onto the heap of linen spread across your bed. You consider calling Claire to ask her to go out and get take out for you, before you remember that she is already outside that the emptiness of the house finally strikes you. You then contemplate calling home delivery, reaching out for your phone.

You turn the music off, and the house becomes eerily quiet. Using your phone to scroll through the contact list, you lift it above you. Just as you were about to press ‘dial’, your phone rings loudly, and you drop the gadget on your face in shock. Speak of the devil.

You answer hurriedly, your voice still shaky, “Hello? Claire?”

Instead, someone else is on the other line.

“Uh um yes? Hello? This is Claire’s phone and um.. Oh Oh we’re calling from Wang’s Chinese-Korean food. Is Claire your friend?”

The person on the other line is definitely a male; his voice deep and mellow.

You clear your throat.

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

He mutters something on the other line that you can’t make out before replying, “You see, we have a bit of a situation here. Your friend, er..Claire, has gotten herself slightly drunk and is disrupting business here. Just wondering if you would be able to bring her back?”

You mentally slap yourself. You should have known better to let Claire go out alone on a friday night.

“Sure, I’ll make my way over now.”

You throw the first pair of jeans you find in your closet on and head out with your trenchcoat, only to curse yourself when you realise that you have no idea where the hell ‘Wang’s Chinese-Korean Food’ is. Goddammit.

Thank the world for whoever invented GPS.

You spend the next 40 minutes of your life scrutinizing the small text on your phone, listening to the machine telling you where to go and trying to locate the restaurant, only to realize that it is just outside campus. How dumb was that.The rain only makes it worse by wetting your hair, clothes and brand new shoes. Great.

There is a pretty long queue outside the restaurant, and you push and shove your way through the crowd, cursing when someone steps on your already dirtied shoes. The smell of oily food wafts out of the place; the air conditioning blows the hair out of your face. Standing right at the front door taking orders is someone you recognize as a senior on campus. You’ve seen him around because of his striking pastel pink hair, but you have no idea what his name is.

“How many people?”

“Looking for someone.”

He moves out of the way, gesturing to another waiter within the restaurant, and your shoes make contact with the magenta ‘WELCOME’ rug.

You don't even have to scan the place to know where Claire is.

Jimin

He looks up from the cashier time to time, glancing worriedly at the girl drowning her sorrows in alcohol. He feels sorry for her, he wants to help her out, but the circumstances do not allow him to do so. He continues to observe the girl and takes a profound interest in her actions.

She continues to call for more soju, and Hoseok shoots uneasy glances at her then at him again, as if trying to determine if the girl has gotten herself drunk enough the night, but he signals to Hoseok to continue supplying her with soju. Hoseok stares back at him in confusion, then shrugs it off unwillingly and gets back to work. Jungkook and Taehyung walk past the girl occasionally to check on her, and they both walk off with worried faces.

The tapping of his fingertips on the wooden counter becomes a rhythm, just before shouts from the table in front of him interrupts his daze. It is that girl, bursting out in horribly sung pop songs in her drunken fit. Jin and Taehyung immediately stop in their tracks and tend to the girl, but she smacks Taehyung right in the face, and Jin is struggling to keep her under control. He has to cover his mouth to stop himself from bursting into a fit of giggles. Jungkook apologizes profusely to the other customers affected by the commotion as the other two men try to calm the girl down.

Taehyung somehow manages to gain access to the girl’s phone and calls somebody while Jin pacifies the girl with iced water. He straightens up at his seat, and continues with his duties as cashier.

He doesn't know how long it's been, but he notices the instant where a new customer has just entered the store. He stares at the girl, strangely feeling a warm tingle crawl up his spine. The girl is breathtaking, and every step she takes is effortlessly graceful. She is dressed so casually, a lilac sweater pulled over her figure, the faded jeans fitting her legs perfectly, her hair swaying with every movement.

But she looks like an absolute goddess to him, and she would most definitely be his religion.

Jungkook leans over the counter and nudges at his side, motioning to the girl.

“Whoa Hyung, you’re totally drooling at the sight of her. She’s your type?” Jungkook jokes, earning a sharp glare from him.

“I don't know,” he shrugs, “but she's really attractive though. I mean, she's not pretty or anything, but for some strange reason I feel like finding out more.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue.

“Eyy,You should go for it Hyung.”

Jungkook nudges his side one last time, winking at him before getting back to work.

Jimin huffs in annoyance at the maknae.

A few more hours left to the end of his shift, and he's going to give this girl a shot.

You

You don't even notice the boy approaching your side because you're so preoccupied with Claire and that really good looking blonde waiter with wide shoulders attempting to help Claire out.

Claire has black bean sauce smudged all over her pretty lips, a streak of her mascara inching down the side of her left eye. You frown at the sight, and the handsome waiter in front of you grins sheepishly. Before you can blurt out your apologies, the feathery light tap on your shoulder has you whirling around. You wince at the whiplash, only to make contact with a pair of beautiful brown eyes, the colour of roasted coffee that is warm on the tip of your tongue, and dark tea that swirls within delicate china porcelain. The tiny specks of caramel in his iris flash, and you feel the bond forming all over again, this time even stronger and even more overwhelming than before. The feeling of warmth shoots through your entire body and spreads, just like the shimmering fireworks on the 4th of July.

You shudder slightly and glance back at him, realizing that he is wearing the exact same expression as you are. You scan his face, a pink blush crawling up your cheeks. It’s the same boy from the lecture hall, the autumn boy,  just that under closer inspection, his olive skin carries a warm glow and you realize how deliciously plump his rosy bottom lip is. He looks starkly different from the encounter at the lecture hall, for his hair is now a stunning onyx, the colour of the city night sky devoid of stars, hinting at the infinite number galaxies that lie beyond earth, engulfing us entirely in a world of mystery.

You make eye contact with him once again, noticing that he has the exact same blush spreading across his cheeks. You swallow and look down at the ground in embarrassment, feet tracing tiny circles on the tiled ground. The handsome waiter takes note of these small actions, chuckling softly to himself before taking his leave. Claire is too forgotten within 3 seconds within the entry of this ‘new’ character, despite the fact that you were here for her in the first place.

“Uh, hello.” He meekly asks, his voice pitched slightly higher than most men you know. As a result, he sounds like an absolute angel to you.

“O-Oh, hi.” You awkwardly reply.

He rubs his neck, then he flashes a super cute smile at you. What he doesn't know is that he's already got you reeled in with just his eyesmile.

“Uh she's your friend, I'm guessing?”

“Yeah, she kinda got herself pretty drunk, and it's pretty embarrassing for the both of us, considering that most people already know who she is.”

He nods in agreement, the both of you bursting into laughter.

Just as you were about to ask this beautiful angel for his name, Claire chooses to lean over and attempts to puke over you, sending you jumping back. Unfortunately, she does puke all over the cement floor, and some of it stains the fabric of your jeans. Several customers turn to scoff in disgust but a waiter behind you with flowing locks like caramel sighs and heads over with a mop. You sigh too, but turn to ask the waiter with large doe eyes and Raven hair in the corner for a mop to help clear the area up. He’s actually been staring at you and the boy with hair that once reminded you of flames for the past 7 minutes, yet you shrug it off.

“No, no it's alright. I can do this on my own. You better head back to take care of your friend.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind helping-”

“No! I-I mean it's better if you don’t. Your friend there needs help.”

You glance back at Claire who is now banging the table and notice how all the other customers are complaining about the ruckus to the distraught waiters. Leaving might be the better choice. A step forward, and you trip over thin air like the klutz you are. Your fingertips touch when he reaches out to grab your hand to pull you back, and the both of you flinch away. It sends a warm tingle shooting down your spine. You smile awkwardly; blush again.

“I-I guess I gotta help her out then. Nice meeting you?”

“Nice meeting you too.”

You apologise to the other waiters and pay the bills with Claire’s money before practically dragging Claire by the arms out of the shop. You look back at Autumn boy in the shop, sending him an apologetic smile. He reciprocates.

Unfortunately, it’s drizzling outside, and the walk home with Claire leaning over you every few minutes gets the both of you soaked by the end of the journey. Thankfully, after the GPS incident earlier, it only takes 20 minutes for the both of you to stumble back into the dorms, arms linked casually.

After helping Claire change into fresh, clean clothes, you peel off your clothes too, stuffing the big heap of cotton and denim into the washing machine before dashing into the hot shower. It soothes your nerves and your freezing body, sending you into a dazed trance after you drag yourself out of the steaming bathroom. The moment your hair is blown dry you collapse onto your bed and knock out, sprawled across soft linen.

2 days later.

Claire is awake.

Wide awake.

Someone keeps screaming like a banshee from the bathroom, and it's already been the third minute straight. It's loud enough to wake the whole building of students.

She groans and shouts back in irritation, “What's with all the racket so early in the morning.

The screaming stops for a moment, then it intensifies.

Claire has to reach for the emergency earplugs in her drawer before heading over to the bathroom with a metal bat in her hand. The door is wide open for Claire to enter, and there you are standing in front of the mirror, a toothbrush still in you mouth full of toothpaste. Tears are streaming down the side of your face, your hand trembling while brushing your teeth. She doesn't realize why you're so overcome with grief until she glances in the mirror and recoils in shock, metal bat clattering noisily on the white tile floor. She gasps, and takes a step back. The chopstick part of your mark has already faded halfway, the chopsticks now a translucent red against your skin.

You stop screaming and turn to stare at Claire with reddened eyes.

“What do I do now.” you whisper, your voice trembling.

She is shocked into nothingness, and stares at you like a deer caught in headlights, a blank canvas in her head.

“Erm, but do you have any ideas about who your soul mate might be? Like maybe it was that other guy on our campus or some guy you passed by..”

“No no no… If my mark has a pair of chopsticks, it MUST mean something, but I can't think of anything now. THIS IS SO DUMB!!”

Claire suddenly lights up, snapping her fingers.

“Chopsticks! Chinese restaurant! Did you feel a connection with anyone you met there?”

“Shit, I just might. That guy, I felt something for him. I felt something.”

You lurch forward to engulf her in your embrace, and she giggles along with you.

“Well no time to waste! We’ve got to get you your soul mate!”

You nod feverishly, and within minutes you are fluttering out of the house, a grey coat draped over one arm, running as hard as you can to that restaurant from yesterday. You can't afford to miss him again.

Thankfully you reach the place in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately everything is wrong. Totally upside down kind of wrong.

The staff staring at you with suspicious eyes in the restaurant are totally different people from the ones you met yesterday. You feel an invisible Claire wingmanning you, and you clear your throat to speak.

“Uhm excuse me, but do you know this guy who works here at night with like really nice brown hair and uhh like equally nice brown eyes?”

You start gesturing and drawing figures in the air to explain your point better but the staff there just low key judge you for everything you do. You then proceed to lose all hope, as well as the image you never had in front of them, but not before someone calls you from behind.

You spin around so quickly that you experience whiplash to meet your saviour and realise. It's the raven haired boy from yesterday, and he smirks at you. That kid. You frown, obviously feeling personally victimized and slightly cheated. (You had hoped for it to be that manly pink haired waiter or… Oh oh!! That waiter with really pretty plump pink lips instead of this cocky kid)

“You’re looking for Jimin hyung?”

“Wait Jimin who??”

Jeongguk literally facepalms himself.

“Like, that hyung you were talking to just yesterday, the one with the brown hair and sparkly eyes?”

You snap your fingers in triumph and start hopping on the spot. Your heart soars.

“Yes him!”

You start nodding your head vigorously and Jeongguk has to literally hold you down in order to effectively convey his message over to the hysterical you.

“You see, Jimin hyung told me to tell you that he's not in town now because he has to return to Korea for an emergency trip. He doesn't know when he’ll be back...or if he'll ever be back.”

Your jaw drops and you feel an irresistibly strong urge to start shouting hysterically and tear everything in your way apart.

But you don't, and stay fine, calm and cool like the civilised student you ought to be. You take a deep breath. Exhale. Ignore the tremble in your heart. Ignore your shaky exhale.

“I understand.”

You turn on your heel and calmly walk out of the shop. One foot out, and you start bawling like a three year old kid on the streets as you run back to the dorm, tears streaming down your embarrassingly red face. The sleeves of your pastel pink hoodie serve as temporary tissues for you to dry your tears.

Life is unfair to you, so unfair.

So much for finding your so called destined soulmate.

What utter bullshit.

Still year 19

2 days after the ordeal

King Ramen Shop

7.42p.m.

The tiny shop located at the end of a staircase leading to the basement is filled to the brim with people, some college students, mostly the working class. They all huddle in their assigned seat, head down, busy slurping down the ramen noodles swimming in the hot, miso broth. The whole restaurant smells like a mix of faint soya with boiling ramen noodles. Chattering echoes off the walls in waves, and the chef is busy serving the other customers seated in front of him. A bowl of happiness served, freshly made, steaming with the scent of miso enveloping your senses.

You noisily wolf down the hot shoyu noodles in front of you while Claire rambles on about the theories taught during the boring ass lecture that morning. The two of you engage in a heated debate about whether or not to buy the new campus jersey in navy blue or black, bursting into laughter when Claire just shouts out “BLUACK!!!” in the middle of her meal, the whole restaurant of customers turning back to stare at her. Even the chefs stop for a moment to smile a little and shake their heads in disapproval,

 While the whole restaurant gets caught up in the atmosphere, you are suddenly reminded of the fact that you might never see your soulmate again. At officially the worst timing ever. A surge of anger fills you, then a hot tear of mixed disappointment and fury slides down your cheek. You hurriedly wipe it off, awkwardly laughing it off, but Claire has already noticed.

She places her warm hand on your back as you forcefully stuff the noodles into your mouth

“Thinking about him?”

You choke a little, then place the chopsticks on the rim of the porcelain bowl with a soft clink and face her.

“Telepathic.” you mumble under your breath.

“What?”

“Oh no no it’s nothing, I mean yeah kinda I guess. The full weight of the situation is still sinking in and I’m feeling pretty crushed under it. It’s pretty vexing to me considering the fact that I have no idea if he’ll ever return and I’m already feeling overwhelmed by university life, so it’s all piling up on me and stuff. You feel me?”

Claire sighs and looks you in the eyes; her warm brown eyes carry a sort of considerate and loving glow.

Her reply pricks your eyes with tears.

“I feel you.”

.

Jimin (3rd person POV)

Year 23.3

12:24 P.M.

Airport

“The white of the airport is too much, glaring even but then again, where is my luggage? Which row do I collect it from? Shit.” were the thoughts running through his mind, hidden behind the thick black sunglasses, covered by the ochre coloured beanie. He absently glances around, desperately attempting to spot the screen with his flight number displayed on it. People just stream past him, their shoes tapping lightly against the large white tiles on the floor.

He casually jogs over to the correct conveyor belt when he spots his ‘lucky number’, grabs his sky blue luggage and strides off as if his whole internal ordeal never occurred before. Not before flashing a bright smile to the friendly old lady whom he had sat next to in the plane.

The airport somehow has a faint jasmine fragrance spreading through it. Glorious sunlight pours through its large glass walls and delicate installations are everywhere. He steps out of his designated gate, relishing in the moment-

“Jimin hyung!! Over here hyung!”

He removes his sunglasses and smiles. The whole crew he worked with at Wang’s Chinese Korean food is here to welcome him back, with Taehyung holding up a large, glittery pink sign that says ‘Have you seen this handsome boy called Park Jimin?” Taehyung chants his name repeatedly as Jeongguk smiles to himself from aside. Jin runs forward to envelop him in a big hug, pull his beanie off and ruffle his silver-grey hair which smells faintly of blossoming flowers.

“Yah, kid, we missed you.” Yoongi comments.

“Especially your ass.” Taehyung adds, sending the whole bunch of rowdy boys bursting into laughter.

“C’mon, we’ve got to get you some rest after that tiring flight from Korea. After that, we’ll party.” Namjoon says while loading Jimin’s luggage into the boot of his car.

“Besides, I believe you have someone you’re looking for here too.” Jeongguk mutters. Jimin smiles.

“I do.”

Day after

8:04P.M.

Juniper Bar

Jazz music plays in the background, with Taehyung mimicking the saxophonist’s nimble finger movement as he rambles on about his prior experience with the saxophone.

“It was like she was my lover. I needed her, she needed me. We would then have our private concert where she would be the star and the sounds of her would mesmerize the crowd. Sexy sounds, I would say.” Taehyung describes, with the occasional wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Dude, that sounds so suggestive.” Jimin comments as he exaggerates his shiver, his hands running all over his body.

“Goosebumps.” Jeongguk whispers. The group of them burst into laughter.

“Yo, Kookie, betcha couldn’t bust a note even if you tried, like, on the saxophone. Took me like three months and if that isn’t fast I don’t know what is.”

Tae finishes his blue cocktail and waves his hand carelessly in front of Jeongguk’s face.

“I betchu I can. I bet it on Jimin hyung’s fine ass!” Jeongguk retorts.

“Hey! Don’t drag me into this!” Jimin exclaims in fake horror, and the group of boys laugh again, with Jin’s window wiper laugh being especially loud this round.

Namjoon leans onto Jin with a low groan, grabbing only thin air when he tries to reach for Jin’s dark brown hair. Tired and half-drunk, he mumbles, “Did y’all hear about the festival thingy next week. Heard some peeps mentioning it a few days ago.”

Some ‘yes and ‘nos’ here and there, but then Jimin nudges Jeongguk’s side. Jeongguk stares into the addictive caramel brown of Jimin’s eyes. Light flashes across his irises, akin to shooting stars in a dark night sky when he says, “Hey, Kookie, how bout we give it a try. It sounds fun.”

Hoseok hollers, “Hell yeah!” before he stumbles onto his barstool. Namjoon chuckles at his fellow 94 liner, gently nudging Jin’s side.

Jeongguk almost trips over his tongue in his hurry to reply.

“Sure.”

You

Year 23.3

9.52 p.m.

Your room

F(x)’s ‘four walls’ reverberates against the walls of your room, quite literally the four walls of your room, as you shuffle across the wood flooring in your fluffy pink bunny slippers. Hopping, twirling like an ice skater across the ‘ice’, you take a calculated jump and land on the comfort of your bed, screeching, “triple axel!!!” ,proceeding to kick the blanket vigorously.

Queen Y/N claims the day again, as the crowd chants her name crazily, waving their big blue banners around. You stand up on your bed, take a deep bow, wave to the imaginary audience; blow a kiss.

“Love is four walls-”

You let yourself drop onto the bed, then wrap yourself up like a lil tiny warm fluffy sushi roll and huddle in the soft linens of your comforter, preparing to sleep in your super cute pastel pink rabbit pjs.

Well, not before the door to your room slams shut.

“AaaGhhH!! Will you please shut up!! I'm trying to have some beauty therapy time here!”

Claire charges in with a charcoal black mask plastered to her face; fiery red hair wrapped up in a white towel. Two thin slices of cucumber are held delicately in her left hand while her right tightly clutches the doorknob. She embodies rage; written in big red letters across her face.

“Sorry.” You sheepishly mumble, lightly tapping two of your fingers together in an attempt to appease her with your ‘cuteness’. She is unfazed, and only agrees to leave the war zone of your room after cursing loudly against your even louder music.

Amazing how she managed to put up with you as her roommate for the past few years.

You sigh in relief, but it is short lived, for Claire returns with a loudspeaker and shouts, “SHUT UP AND SLEEP! DON'T FORGET WHAT WE HAVE TO ATTEND TOMORROW.” right in your face. She storms out once again. A grand entrance, a grand finale.

Oh, right. Tomorrow. The ‘big’ day.

It’s the annual spring festival tomorrow, where practically almost everyone in the town gathers to celebrate, sing, dance, watch the cherry blossom petals fall. Mostly couples, though, who attend because of the ridiculously romantic atmosphere of the whole getup. Lots of families attend too, their children showering in the pale pink petals that flutter down from the trees; kiss them gently on the tip of their noses.

It’s especially important for you, too. You still have one more chance. One more chance to find that wretched soulmate of yours again and whoop his ass for escaping the first time. It’ll be a sight to see under the pretty spring backdrop.

Your fingertips trace the cherry blossom on your wrist, then press onto it slightly harder at the empty spots. The mini Claire in your head nags you to doll up and look real pretty tomorrow, for someone you are destined to see again, but just not today. You kiss your mark tenderly, then drift off into the world of dreams.

Tomorrow

You

11.52 a.m.

Apartment

“ Y/N!! Hurry your ass up! The festival probably started already!” Claire hollers from across the room, jamming her bright yellow strap on heels onto her tiny, perfect feet.

“Coming! Coming!!” You retort, hopping out of your room in a white blouse and a  flowery pleated skirt. You double check your makeup in the glassy reflection of the window while slipping on your white sneakers.

“We’re gonna make it on time.”

“So this was your idea of a fast way to get to the festival?” Claire half questions, half screeches.

“Yup!” You shout back, pedalling even faster on your bike to overtake the cars which stop at the red flash of light.

Thank goodness you wore safety pants under, and that your hair is in a loose mini bun.

Jimin

12:44 p.m.

Festival Venue

Though it’s only mid afternoon, the festival is happening. Children are running along the petal scattered road, ice cream and cotton candy in hand. Couples with matching marks stroll, hand in hand, under the trees, smiles plastered onto their faces. Love is written clearly in their eyes.

Jimin stares enviously at the pair while lapping away at his sea salt cherry blossom flavoured ice cream, Jeongguk by his side. The spring breeze is surprisingly refreshing, for it carries a tinge of flower fragrance which tickles at his nose. People stream past him continuously, as he sits there in silence with Jeongguk, soaking up the festive atmosphere.

Ice cream drips onto his hand when he doesn’t notice; it leaks onto his wrist.

“Aishh, not again.”

Jimin stares blankly at his wrist, the pink mark, identical to the current romantic backdrop of the festival, and smiles. Jeongguk glances over his shoulder, raising a brow at Jimin questioningly.

“Hyung.”

Jimin doesn't respond to the call.

Instead, the pink petals call out to him, entrance him, make him remember. They reach out, kiss his cheeks, tug at his cotton candy pink hair. They make him remember. He recalls his sole purpose in returning, for the image of her flashes right before his very eyes; it flits across his mind. He has to find her, no matter what.

And today might just be his day.

You

Claire literally drags you off the ridiculous get up of a pink bike and right into the heart of the festival, where music blasts at crazily high volumes. Cherry blossom ending by busker busker, a favorite amongst spring songs plays, and everyone starts to hum along; tap their feet to the rhythm.

Even you look up from your box of cherry blossom mochis to sway to the song ;relish in the cool spring breeze that blows at your hair lightly, the cotton candy held in your other hand fluttering in the breeze.

You, now let’s hold hands on this street How is this love song that you hear right now? I hold hands with you, whom I love As we walk together on this unknown street As the spring wind blows The scattering cherry blossom petals Spread out on this street As we walk together

At the back of your head, you suddenly feel a familiar ring, then a tingle that shoots down your spine. As though possessed, you look around for a figure, someone that resembles him. The wind pulls your hair to the left, as though to tell you :Hey! Look there! He’s there! Your legs decide to have a mind of their own, and you wander away from Claire, chasing your formerly lost lover solely based on feeling. You can feel it, 100 percent, that he’s around here somewhere. You just know it.

When the wind blows, my heart sounds to pound without knowing When the wind blows, from way over there, I keep seeing you When the wind blows, my heart sounds to pound without knowing When the wind blows, from way over there, I keep seeing you

A boy, from across the street, matches your eyes. He stares at you curiously, despite the petals that attempt to obscure your vision; to cut the connection between the two of you off. You would have missed him; you almost missed him, just because of his cotton candy hair that hides him delicately in the surroundings. It is impossible to miss him now, because you've already figured him out. The longing in his eyes that feels like a reflection of yours had already given him away. Nothing is stopping you now.

Jimin

He looks around, his eyes holding no purpose, except for the girl he is looking for. People walk around him, in front of him, beside him, but he takes no notice. Some girls walk past him and Jeongguk and giggle softly to themselves, but he does not heed them and neither does Jeongguk. The ice cream has long been finished and forgotten and the two just sit there in comfortable mutual silence.

Jeongguk glances around upon hearing the spring song from the other side, his ears chasing the melody, and he spots a familiar figure bouncing along at the other side of the street. She moves like a dandelion floating through the air, dancing in the breeze. Eyebrows scrunched, he thinks hard about who she is. It clicks in his mind.He turns around to tell Jimin.

“Hyung! Isn’t that-”

Then he realises that Jimin has already seen her. The girl on the other side locks eyes with Jimin, and Jimin rises to his feet.

No words further exchanged, he makes his way over to her.

Jeongguk smiles to himself while he watches Jimin’s silhouette get smaller and smaller as he gets further, further.

“Lucky him.”

3rd person POV

The two of you automatically gravitate towards each other, just like how unlike poles attract, the force pulling the two of you together is simply too strong to break. He runs towards you, you run towards him too. You meet in the middle, below the big cherry blossom tree, where the spring breeze blows once again, taking petals and the faint fragrance of flowers with it. Some petals entangle themselves in your hair and his. The two of you stand there and smile at each other because finally, finally you've found each other.

The both of you stand and stare; stare into each other’s eyes; immerse yourselves in their endless galaxies filled with stars and unexplored planets. You are his moon, and he is a lonely astronaut floating within your orbit, pulled towards you by gravity.

It’s almost as if you’ve read each other’s minds. Face flushed, you breathlessly mutter, “ Y/N, my name is Y/N.”

He timidly smiles to himself. His heart, his insides are bursting with colour upon hearing the sweetness of your voice; a sweet honey that he would absolutely get hooked on; a love drug he would submit himself to. Absolutely illegal.

“Park Jimin..from last time.”

Your heart leaps across oceans, continents and back. You hold your trembling hand out for him, your hand that trembles as much as your tiny heart. Your sleeve pulls back slightly to reveal your mark, a cherry blossom with two faded lines in the middle. Jimin glances back at his own wrist, and his mark matches yours.

“Soulmates?”

“Soulmates.”

Just before his hand meets yours, a tiny cherry blossom drifts down from the tree above. Slowly but surely, it lands in the square of your palm.

Surprised, the both of you let out a hearty laugh. His eyes form tiny crescents, twinkling and beautiful.

He closes in on the distance between you and him, enveloping you in his warm embrace; his arms wrapping around you tightly.

The cherry blossom tree rains pink on the couple below; it rains love, and love is quite literally in the air.

As for the both of you, nobody knows what the future may hold, but like what they say,  you will marry your first love if you catch a falling cherry blossom.

He was your first love.

And you were his.