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hyungsnkisses · 5 years

Text

Tattoos

( ~ o l d r e q u e s t ~ )

♡ contains fluff and angst, viewer discretion is advised

♡ word count: 6.6k

♡ Describing how a soulmate makes you feel is difficult. It’s a tenacious, profound and lingering emotion which no words can encompass. Why did it have to be Min Fucking Yoongi?

♡ ♡ ♡

If you had a dollar for every time someone had asked you if you were okay today, you’d be rich beyond your wildest dreams. The deep set scowl adorning your face was very out of character for you. In fact, it gave you the opposite effect of what you had hoped to achieve.

You could tell why your parents were soulmates - they were perfect for each other. They both laughed at the same TV commercial with the dog that sang about a cleaning product, they both shared an interest in baking and classical music, they even finished each others sentences sometimes. Why did your soulmate have to be the polar opposite to you?

Your parents had given you “the talk” when you were sixteen, sitting you down with a hot chocolate and a box of tissues - both of which ended up being unnecessary. For being honest, you have completely forgotten that on your 18th birthday a name would appear engraved in silver script on your wrist to signify whom you should seek to live forever with. Until the clock struck midnight last night and a searing pain in your right arm brought you out of slumber. It was like no other pain you had ever felt before, like tiny needles were jabbing at your arteries and your flesh was being burned with a red hot poker. You imagined this was what getting a real tattoo felt like, but it didn’t ease your racing mind and your churning stomach. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours, but once it was over it was as if nothing happened. There was no blood, no bruising, and you were returned to the silence of your darkened room. You pulled at the curtain to offer some light from the full moon onto your view and stared at the simple name in shiny silver lettering written on your wrist.

Min Yoongi.

Gasping in shock, your first thought was to try and scrub your skin raw in hope that it would disappear, but you remember your mother telling you from experience. “All it did was make me more miserable,” she had told you. Your second thought was to cut your arm off, but that would have caused a far bigger mess than the one you were currently in. So, while lying on your back in a starfish shape staring up at the glow-in-the-dark planets attached to your ceiling, you did the last option.

You self-consciously tugged at your long sleeves for the millionth time this lesson, struggling to focus on the whiteboard with lots of equations you didn’t understand, taunting at you for not accepting the offer of a tutor. Math was not your strong point, but today it felt as if your brain had melted from your ears and pooled on the floor around you. Why on earth did Min Yoongi have to be your soulmate? You were polar opposites.

Min Yoongi was barely at school, occasionally dropping in on his exceptionally loud motorcycle and attending one or two classes per week. His presence was like that of a really bad car accident; you couldn’t help but stare at him even though you didn’t want to. When he pulled his helmet away from his head, the bleach blonde locks that he shook gently fell into the perfect place. Some days he tucked a headband under his choppy bangs, and some days he opted for a baseball cap that pulled the hair flush to expose his forehead. He was the definition of a college frat boy without the obnoxiously arrogant personality. You had watched from afar many times as he rejected yet another girl whom confessed their love to him - what they saw in him you had no idea - with a firm shake of his head and a tug on his backpack. When he graced the hallways of your school he kept his head down despite everyone staring at him, but caused a scene during breaks where he would harass freshmen for answers to the next classes pop quiz or for their lunch money. He was an odd fellow that you couldn’t put your finger on.

You were so distracted by thoughts of your ‘soulmate’ that you had completely forgotten it was your birthday. You were soon reminded when you were finally free from your lesson to find a birthday banner hanging from your locker. You sighed, twisting the dial to unlock the container. You were immediately hit in the face with helium balloons.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” Your best friend, Seoyun, called from down the hall, her dark curly hair cascading down her back. You had always been envious of her, ever since the day you were seated next to each other in Health, and today you wished she wasn’t her usual bubbly self.

“Please don’t remind me.” You huffed, wading through the streamers and balloons to fish out your music book. You had barely touched the corner of it before bolts of electricity spiked through your lower arm and caused you to whip away in excruciating pain. You put it down to heightened sensitivity due to the name reveal and that it was just a regular electric shock, as when you tentatively grabbed the book a second time you were fine. Weird.

“What’s got you so down in the dumps?” She asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes at her. “Oh! You got your name!”

“Do you want to scream that any louder?” You hissed in annoyance, walking towards the cafeteria to grab a coffee. You needed something to keep you going for the rest of the day.

“So... Who did you get?” Seojun pressed, poking your sides. You swatted her away, requesting an iced americano with an extra shot and moving to the collection area.

“I’m already embarrassed enough, I don’t want you to laugh at me as well.” You sighed, looking over the cafeteria. There was a 15 minute break between period 2 and 3, then lunch was an hour long. You looked over all the tired seniors desperately studying for finals that were a couple of months away, their tired forms slumped over a laptop or a mountain of books. You empathised with them as you were doing the exact same, just not during school hours. You couldn’t possibly study as well as learn new things, that didn’t compute in your brain.

“One iced americano with an extra shot for Y/N?” The barista called and you collected your drink, feeling a warm buzz of energy from the cup. What was going on with you today? The cup felt as if it was vibrating in your hand, the dull thrum jolting throughout your entire right arm.

“Come on, Y/N. It can’t be as bad as not having one, tell me!” Seojun pressed one final time and you huffed, switching your coffee in your hands. You sympathised with Seojun, as she was probably the most excited person for her 18th birthday. It meant she was able to find the one she would spend her life with, and sadly she wasn’t blessed with a name. You felt guilty for being so embarrassed with your mate; Seojun would kill to be in your shoes, even if it was Min Yoongi. The buzzing of your coffee was still present in your other hand, although not as strong, so it couldn’t just be the effects of the name reveal process last night. Seojun gasped audibly as she looked at your rolled up sleeve, her eyes wide like saucers. You simply nodded in an ‘I told you so’ type of way.

“I told you it was bad. Anyway, I’ll see you later.” You waved at her as you parted ways down the corridor, making your way to your music class. You took a sip of the strong substance in your hands, the taste hitting you like a truck. Your vision blurred and you suddenly felt dizzy. What the hell is going on? Your mouth had become dry and you couldn’t see straight, the corridor moving in ways that only happen in those stupid American comedies. There was a brightness from the high windows that caused a headache to sear through your eyes, the situation becoming so overwhelming that your legs buckled underneath you. All it took was a blink, and you were transported into a different part of the school. It took you a few seconds to place where you were, registering the principal’s office from the large green potted plant in the corner and the family photo on the desk in front of you.

“Your grades are dropping dangerously low. Myself and your teachers are concerned that you may have to retake your last year of school again.” The principal was looking at you with sympathy in your eyes. What? This can’t be right, you thought, my grades are near enough perfect.

“Sir, with all due respect, I have a lot happening in my home life, so it’s difficult for me to come into school every day.” A raspy voice that didn’t belong to you spoke, sounding very familiar. There was a dull haze in the corners of your line of vision, registering that you weren’t the one in the principal’s office. You felt like you were in a daydream, but you knew for a fact it wasn’t your own.

“We can put procedures in place to help you, Yoongi. That’s what we’ve been telling you for the last six months.” The principal spoke again. Did he say Yoongi? Were you trapped in Yoongi’s mind somehow?

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need your help. What I need to do is go home.” Yoongi politely declined and left the principal’s office. You watched through the fog and brightened scene before you as Yoongi made his way through the corridors and into the parking lot of the school, seating himself on the back of his motorcycle. He sighed, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. The smell filled your nostrils and you contained the reflex to cough up your lungs. While you knew that it was a daydream and not real, you were unsure if Yoongi would be able to hear you if you uttered even a single sound. He took a sip of the drink he had been carrying, and soon the bitter liquid flooded your tongue. Americano.

“Y/N? Y/N, wake up.” Someone was smacking your cheeks and you sat up abruptly, swallowing your mouthful of coffee. “Good, you’re awake, are you alright?”

“I... I think so.” You mumbled, looking at your surroundings. Quite the crowd had gathered in the hallway to gawk at your confusion, your coffee spilled on the floor in front of you. You could practically hear the tutting from the janitor already. The school nurse crouched in front of you and helped you to your feet, gave you a brush down and asked if you wanted to call your parents, which you refused. All you wanted to do was go to your class and get the hell out of there. You straightened your skirt and made your way down the corridor, all the while question flooded your mind. Did Yoongi know that you had seen his private conversation with the principal through his eyes? Had Yoongi experienced the same with you? You wondered if he felt the same as you today, the weird electric shocks and buzzing. You wondered if your name was etched into his skin with the same silver script, and if he detested the knowledge as much as you did. You wondered if he was suffering as much as you.

“Y/N! So nice of you to finally join us.” Your music teacher, Mr. Kwon, snarled at you. He already took a disliking to you because you had undermined him as a musician more than once with your piano skills, but your tardiness seemed to add to the pile.

“Sorry, Sir, I fainted in the corridor.” You placed the pink illness slip onto his desk and his hard stare softened for the smallest of moments.

“Very well, be seated please.” You took your seat at the keyboard in front of you, logging into the computer and loading the recording software. For your final piece of coursework, you had been assigned to compose an original song that had personal meaning. While you had been toying with a few idea, you were supposed to be completing the task with a partner and, up until today, your partner had been skipping class. You sighed, slipping on your headphones and listening to what you currently had. You hated to admit it, but writing sad songs was probably the only thing you’re good at. You were usually a very bright and bubbly person, but as of late you had been feeling miserable. Maybe it was because you hadn’t even thought about going to college despite the application deadlines being months ago, and you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life. All you know is you loved the piano. The track that you’d started was a slow song, focused on the higher notes as the main melody. It was a good start and, while you were good at the piano, you had no idea where to start with percussion and even writing the lyrics. That’s why you were hoping your partner would be good at those things, but they are still a no show. You sighed, knowing you’ll have to accept failing your best subject.

“Miss, Y/L/N.” Mr. Kwon’s voice brought you out of your thoughts and you slipped off your headphones, shifting your body to look at him. His face was as stern as always. “Just so you’re aware, I’ve contacted your partner and explained to him that as this is an extension class and attendance is compulsory, he will be joining us next lesson even if it kills me.”

“Okay, thank you, Sir.” You offered a weak smile and he returned that was much warmer than he had ever been since you started at this school.

“Are you getting on okay at the moment?” He asked sincerely and you nodded.

“I’ve gotten the basics down, I just need to figure out what kind of percus-”

“No, Y/N, I mean in general. You seem a lot... quieter today.”

“Oh.” His statement takes you aback, you weren’t expecting to have a heart-to-heart with the teacher that hates your guts. “I’m going to be honest, Sir, not really.”

“My door is always open if you need to chat.” He smiled warmly at you once more before returning to his desk, the dull tapping of your classmates’ keyboards becoming the backing track as your thoughts clouded over once again.

Your next music lesson seemed to come in a flash, despite your birthday celebrations separating you from your endless studying. There was an odd sensation that had settled deep in your stomach right after you ate breakfast. Was it nerves? Was it something bad that you’d eaten? The bread you toasted certainly wasn’t mouldy, and the strawberry milk tasted alright, you just couldn’t pinpoint it. But when the butterflies began fluttering in your abdomen, you knew it was anxiety for something. Perhaps because in a few minutes you would meet your mystery partner and be able to finally finish your assignment with a reasonably good grade. You arrived to class a little earlier than usual, skipping your regular americano break, though you could still taste the strong coffee on your tongue. It was odd; recently you could taste tings in the back of your throat that you don’t remember eating. Take last night, your mother had made a delicious beef casserole, yet you went to bed tasting instant noodles and Pepsi. And right now, there were hints of a powdered donut to accompany the bitterness of coffee. You were too scared to speak to anyone about it in case you were going crazy.

“Okay class, pop your headphones on and get to work please.” Mr Kwon announced when walking into the room, seating himself at his desk. A dull heat pooled in your feet and spread up to your calves, twinkling its way around your nervous system. You felt like you were on fire yet freezing cold at the same time. You daren’t roll your sleeves in fear of someone catching a glimpse of your name. You knew it was nothing to be embarrassed about as 80% of 18 year olds receive their name the night of their birthday, but you wished your name was anyone else. Literally anyone else.

“You’re working with Y/N.” You heard Mr Kwon’s faint voice through the noise-cancelling headphones, and the butterflies increased and fluttered dangerously in your chest. You wondered if Yoongi was feeling how you were feeling as well. You snorted at the potentiality of Yoongi, the school’s bad boy, getting nervous. The heat seemed to rush to your head and you felt as though hot lave was about to pour from your nose and mouth.

“Hi.” A faint yet familiar husky voice spoke and you turned your head slowly to look at your partner. You felt as if the wind had been taken from your chest as you finally made eye contact. Time seemed to stop still as you took in every detail of his features: the dark brown eyes set deep into his socket, with eyelashes that fanned out over the tops of his cheeks when he blinked. The dip in the middle of his petite nose that centred his face. The faint acne scar on his right cheek, paired with a light graze accentuating the angle of his chin. His chapped bottom lip that was encased by his pearly white teeth. His blonde locks that fell into his eyes, with a beanie pulled over his ears. He waved his hand in front of your eyes and you blinked rapidly, regaining the moisture you’d lost from staring.

“I-I’m sorry, how rude of me to stare, I’m Y/N.” You cleared your throat a little, holding your hand out but struggling to meet his gaze. When his hand touched yours it was like someone had let off tiny fireworks in your brain, the popping and pinging sounds paired with bright colours seemed to put your reality into HD. You adjusted your glasses and finally brought your gaze back to him. He was grinning at you. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” He stated, finally letting your sweaty hand go and watching it fall back into your lap. “Yoongi.”

“Yoongi.” You repeated, smiling to yourself. It sounded even better when he said it. You shook your head a little, opening the software and loading the file you had previously recorded. “So, this is what I’ve come up with so far. You can change it if you want, but to be honest we don’t have much time left to re-compose...”

“No, it’s fine, it’s my fault for not turning up so we’ll go from here.” He nodded, pulling the headphones over his small ears and listening to your track. You studied his face while he listened intently, his fingers tapping to the rhythm you created, a smirk tugging at the side of his lips. Once the recording had come to it’s end, he slipped the headphones off and looked at you, smiling.

“So what do you think?” You asked sheepishly, trying to ignore the warm feeling that had settled into your stomach.

“Did you record this yourself?” He asked. You nodded.

“Wow, you’re very talented, Y/N. All we need to do is add some bass and vocals and you’ve got yourself a song.” He praised. You could feel heat spreading to your cheeks and forming a blush. You had never been complimented on your instrumental work before and it was definitely something you wanted to hear more often. Yoongi rid himself of the same black zip up sports jacket he wore almost every day, leaving him in a white long sleeved shirt, which his rolled his sleeves up. He seemed like he knew what he was doing from the way he was flicking the cursor all over the computer screen, bringing up tabs with long names you’d never seen before a tapping keys. You put your own headphones on to hear what he was doing, listening to the individual beats as he tried pairing them with the piano accompaniment. You admired his skill, being able to work a programme you still hadn’t got your head around, and you couldn’t help but wander your eyes to his wrist. You were curious, was he feeling the same things you were? Did he even have a name on his wrist? You unconsciously tugged at your own long sleeves, afraid of what he might think to know he’s potentially stuck with you as a soulmate. You even hated the word ‘soulmate’. It just all sounded so made up to you, and now that it’s happened it felt even more made up. But the head moving to your hands that were dangerously close to his made you think otherwise.

“So I’ve got a couple of beats that I’ve been working on at home that we can layer underneath - nothing too heavy, the piano you’d created sounds pretty so I don’t want to drown that out.” Then he pointed towards the monitor, and you saw it. Clear as day. How could you have missed that?

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Which one do you want to do?”

“Oh... Whichever you prefer.” You smiled, but inside your heart was doing somersaults in your chest. Min Yoongi had your name on his wrist.

The next couple of weeks had you actually looking forward to your music class and spending time with Yoongi. The school knew him as a bad boy that rarely turned up to school and smoked in the non-smoking areas, but you were getting to know a different side of him. A side that you liked, and could potentially fall in love with. Now that was moving too fast, but your entire being buzzed with excitement every time he was even near you. During break, you went to grab your usual iced american and without even looking up you could sense he was already at the counter ordering the same as you. It’s like your father had said, “once you know who it is you will feel connected to them, like a little piece of elastic tying the two of you together”. And it was, because as soon as the warm feeling radiating your stomach travelled to him, he’d look up in search of you. Once his chocolate eyes laid on your dull green ones, he smiled. Grabbing two americanos and taking a sip of one, he handed the other to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Yoongi... You know my coffee order?” You took the cup from his outstretched hand.

“I guess my lucky hunch was right.” He shrugged, flashing his teeth in a cheeky grin. “I was wondering if you wanted to work on the music project during study break? I’ve booked the recording room so we can get some vocals down if you like.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” Yoongi smiled, letting his hand linger on your shoulder for just a little bit too long before walking in the opposite direction to you, your gaze absentmindedly following him along with the inferno he created on your skin. Thank god you decided to wear a t-shirt today, or there would be a literal fire on your shoulder. Time seemed to move slowly as he waltzed through the cafeteria, stopping only to turn back and flash a gummy grin at you, sending waves of warmth across your forehead and down your throat. While you had accepted his offer of working on your song, you were shitting yourself. You and Yoongi, alone, together. That was one sandwich away from a picnic disaster.

For once, the school day seemed to drive by faster than a formula 1 car, and before you knew it the last bell had sounded in the corridors and you were anxiously awaiting the school bell to signal the beginning of study break. You rushed to your locker and stuffed your music notes and any other books needed for homework into your backpack and hastily pulled the straps up your shoulders. You walked reasonably faster than usual to the recording studio located at the back of the music building, peering through the small glass window in the door. Your eyes fell on the back of his signature black zip up jacket and watched as he busied himself with scrolling through instagram, but as the familiar warmth bubbled in your toes he looked over towards the door, locking eyes with you and a smile growing on his face. You waved gently at him, pushing open the heavy soundproofed door and entering the room.

“Hey.” He said when you sat yourself down on the wheeled chair next to him, your arms so close that he could touch you if he wanted.

“Hey-Yoongi? What happened to your face?” You gasped, eyes darting from the bloody gash on his cheekbone, the gentle graze on his nose and the dried cut on the left hand side of his lip. You wanted to cup his cheek and take a proper look at them, but you feared he would misunderstand your intentions or slap your hand away. His eyes softened and his brows furrowed as he handed you a set of headphones.

“Oh, just something at home. Let’s get this song finished.” He offered you a final sheepish smiled and watched intently as you pulled your hair away from your shoulders into a ponytail and slipped the headphones over your ears. “I’ve been playing around with some lyrics and did a few recordings before you arrived, did you want to have a listen?”

“Sure.” You watched as Yoongi darted the cursor over the two connecting screens and pressed play on the current recording. Your soft piano melody filled your ears sweet as honey, complimenting Yoongi’s rough growl and melancholic lyrics perfectly.

“That’s right, I live because I can’t die But I don’t have anything I want to do I’m in so much pain and loneliness but people around me Keep telling me to regain my consciousness I try to vent my anger but I only got myself So what’s the point of venting my anger I’m scared to open my eyes every day and start breathing”

You gently tugged the headphones from your ears and placed them on the desk in front of you, rushing over to the recording booth and telling Yoongi to hit the red button. Your inspiration was suddenly flowing through you like the first drop of water after a drought; Yoongi’s words were so perfect and so relatable that at that moment you truly felt like his soulmate. Like you were two pieces of a messed up puzzle that fit perfectly. You cleared your throat and listened to the piano melody filling your eardrums and began singing the word exploding in your thoughts.

“So far away, if I had a dream If only I had a flying dream Don’t fall away, if I had a dream If only I had a flying dream”

“W-wow, Y/N... Your voice...” Yoongi’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish gasping for air, and you felt your face flush with embarrassment.

“Was it really that bad?” You mumbled, kicking at the scuff on the front of your new white shoes.

“Let me take you on a date.” Yoongi blurted, eyes wider than saucers. Your gaze shot up to meet his in shock. Now it was your turn to be the goldfish.

“What?”

“Please.” Yoongi got up from his seat and joined you in the recording booth, at least a head taller than you. “Those lyrics, that voice... I think I just fell in love with you.” He cracked a grin and you couldn’t help but smile back. You didn’t expect this at all from Yoongi. In fact, you don’t think you’d ever seen him smile that big before, and your heart was beating so fast you were sure it was about to explode. Your head was nodding before your thoughts had registered what nodding would actually mean for you. It means you just agreed to go on a date with Min Yoongi. Your soulmate.

“Pick me up at seven.”

You heard the familiar rumble of his motorbike and felt a warmth in your lower legs before you saw him, shouting to your mum that you’d be back late and dashing outside to greet Yoongi. As he pulled up to your front door and hushed the engine, you took a minute to take in his appearance. He was dressed in ripped black skinny jeans and combat boots, paired with a white button down shirt and a leather jacket. He looked nothing but delicious, and you had to fight the urge to salivate at the sight.

“You ready?” He grinned, holding his spare helmet in your direction. It was a soft lavender colour and had a butterfly sticker on the front. You offered a confused expression and waited for the explanation. “Oh, it’s my sisters.”

“Ah that makes sense, I don’t think lavender is your usual colour.” You giggled, slipping the helmet over your head and clipping the clasp under your chin. Yoongi held his hand out to help you climb behind him, and you gripped his shoulder for support while trying to ignore the electricity zapping into your fingers. Your inner thighs made contact with his lower back and a dull vibration spread through your upper legs, becoming more intense when Yoongi started up the bike and you wrapped your arms around his waist. You felt him let out a shaky sigh before revving on the engine and zooming out of your driveway.

The ride ended far too soon for either of you likings, the vibration dulling from the lack of contact as you hopped off the bike and took in your surroundings. Yoongi had taken you to a quaint little pasta restaurant close to campus, the menu carefully placed in between ivy and beautiful flowers. There was a soft romantic ambience about the place as you were shown to your table (in the far corner of the restaurant where barely any people would disturb you, no less) and a basket of bread with dipping oil was waiting for you to devour.

“I picked from the menu in advance, I hope that’s okay?” Yoongi spoke in a much softer voice, and your sudden increase in heart rate made you question what this man was doing to you.

“No, that’s okay.” You smiled, peering around at the soft candlelit glow and the delicate table decorations. “This place is beautiful, how did you find it?”

“One of my friends told me about this place, about how romantic and special it was... I wanted to bring someone special here one day.”

“Oh...” You felt your cheeks heat up at the sentiment, tucking your feet under your chair and sitting comfortably. Yoongi did the same, watching you gaze around the restaurant in awe once again. He couldn’t help but smile at you fondly.

The date went as smooth as you had predicted; you had spilled water on the table cloth before your starters had arrived and when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom you noticed a piece of herb stuck in your tooth. How long was that in there?! you wailed, picking at it before fixing your gloss. The bubbly warmth in the pit of your stomach was itching for you to hold Yoongi’s hand, or something, you didn’t know how long you could stand it anymore. So when he invited you back to his place to finish the music assignment your heart jumped at the opportunity.

When you pulled up to Yoongi’s house you were almost overwhelmed; it was a lot bigger than your own, with a double front door and neatly trimmed hedges lining the plot of land. Yoongi led the way, unlocking the right hand door and walking into the large hallway. He tossed his shoes on the rack and replaced them with black slippers, offering a pair for you to do the same. You slipped on the purple fluffy slippers - his sister’s, you presumed - and followed Yoongi up the large staircase and into a small room to the left of the bathroom. The walls were a bright white, the various units littered with recording equipment and all sorts of trackboards. You were in absolute awe, the amount of branded equipment in this room alone must be worth the same as what your entire house cost.

“Wow.” Was all you could manage, taking a seat in the spare desk chair and wheeling yourself towards the large monitor behind an 88 key grand piano keyboard. Yoongi flitted from place to place on the monitor just like he did at school, pulling up your assignment and opening various other files and layering them with your own.

“I’ve been working on a couple of things to make the track stand out a little better. So there’s a couple of bass notes that can be in the background, and...” Yoongi spoke a lot softer in the comfort of his own home, his deep voice causing your mind to wander. You wondered how soft his hands felt when they touched your own, what kind of shampoo he used to keep his hair so vibrant all the time, what detergent he used to keep his clothes smelling fresh all day long...

“Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” He scolded, but he was grinning. You shook your head, looking at his amused expression.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t.” You admitted. “I’m just... Wow, Yoongi, your house is incredible.”

“Yeah.” He deadpanned, looking back at the monitor. “Perks of divorced parents.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to-”

“It’s fine. Really.” Yoongi reassured, but you knew you had pried too much. You retracted your hands from on the desk in front of you and placed them in your lap, picking at your cuticles.

“Hey, it’s fine, I promise.” Yoongi’s voice was softer again, his attention completely focused on you. You looked up at him, focusing on the bruising around his eye that was fading.

“What happened to your face?” You spoke after a while, your throat hoarse.

“M-my stepdad... He’s not exactly the nicest.” Yoongi chuckled out of awkwardness, scratching at the back of his neck. “I wish life was normal sometimes, you know? I’ve been so miserable recently... Trying to keep that bastard away from my mum, and taking the brunt of his fists.”]

“I get that, I’ve been miserable recently too.”

“That’s only because I’ve been miserable.” Yoongi chuckled, turning his chair to you. You didn’t quite follow, so you furrowed your brows in question. “You think I don’t know who’s name you’ve got on your wrist?”

“I-”

“All those times you’ve been feeling miserable, or weird, or how fucking warm it is whenever we’re around each other...” He took your right wrist in his hand, tiny flames licking over his fingers, and rolled up your sleeve to reveal his name in the same silver lettering. He held his own wrist next to yours, finally showing Y/N Y/L/N in all it’s glory. “We’re connected. I didn’t believe in all the soulmate bullshit before, but now I know who my mystery girl is, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“But Yoongi.” This was all too much for you, too much to comprehend. Min Yoongi was dangerous, he was renowned for fucking with girls then never speaking to them again. You didn’t want to be another one to add to his collection. “You’re... You’re the ‘bad boy’, you’re not supposed to be kind and sweet and all these things. You’re supposed to be the guy that all the magazines tell you not to fall for.”

“What makes you think I’m bad?” Yoongi leans his face closer to yours, the invisible elastic pulling you closer to him.

“Everyone say you are.”

“And since when do you believe what everyone says?” He asked, and he was right. You were the last person to believe what anyone said. You preferred to find things out for yourself rather than conforming to the masses, yet... How did Yoongi know that?

“How long have you known about me?” Your voice was a lot quieter now, scared that he was only going along with the soulmate idea because it’s what is supposed to happen.

“2 years.” His hand reached out and tentatively touched the skin where his name was place. It was a simple gesture, barely even touching you, but the sensations filled your very soul with warmth and you closed your eyes to revel in the feeling.

“And you didn’t speak to me once.” You sighed, your free hand placing over his to halt the motions. His eyes bored into yours.

“Well I couldn’t exactly go up to you and say “Hey, I’m your soulmate, we should date”, could I?” He chuckled, a deep hearty noise that had your eardrums ringing with joy. You smiled.

“That’s true, I probably would have told you where to shove it.” You giggled, raising a hand and gently swiping the hair from his eyes, reaching down to cup his cheek. You were right before, his skin was softer than anything you had ever imagined. “So, does this mean...”

“Yes, god yes, absolutely yes because I think I’m about to explode.” He laughed once again, using his hand to keep yours firmly pressed to his cheek, continuing his gentle strokes to your wrists. You closed your eyes as he leaned his face closer to yours, your lips barely touching. “But only if you want it too.”

“Please just kiss me, Yoongi.” You murmured near his lips, the vibrations from your voice and the sound of his name rolling off your tongue turning his brain into soup as he closed the space between you. Once your lips were pressed together, it was like the world had stopped spinning. Never in your life had you felt this euphoric, this connected, this real to someone. Yoongi’s lips were like a long lasting candy that no matter how much you sucked it would stay the same size. It didn’t matter that you were inexperienced because you melted straight into Yoongi like a stick of butter in a frying pan. You moved your other hand to his available cheek and pulled his body closer to you, if that was even possible. His free hand placed gently on your thigh caused warmth to collect, as if his hand was being stitched to you forever. His tongue felt moist and warm against your lower lip and you sighed into his mouth. He delicately explored, moving his tongue carefully with your own, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible. You were the first to pull away, your eyes still closed and your forehead resting against his, soft pants blowing against his chin.

“Why d’you stop?” Hi whimpered, brushing your hair out of your face. Your hands were still clamped to his cheeks, and you dragged them down his jaw, neck and rested them on his chest, trying to regain your thoughts.

“I- We need to get this project finished.” You whispered, grabbing his shirt in fistfuls. You desperately wanted to feel his lips on your again, almost as much as you wanted a good grade on this assignment.

“Well, you need to let go of me if we’re going to finish it.” He chuckled once more, causing you to smile. You looked back into his eyes, the hooded gaze he was giving you all too enticing.

“Fuck it.” You leaned forward into him once again, seating yourself in his lap. He leaned back in his chair as your lips connected once again, his thumbs making small circles in your hip bones. The project could wait another hour or two...

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