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Chapter Text

김

SEOKJIN

It was a truth universally acknowledged, that a semi-famous man in possession of a semi-rabid social media following, did not show up anywhere announced. Discretion was key to survival, so Kim Seokjin’s arrival to his own company’s New Year’s Eve bash was no exception.

“What, no Insta-stalker posse this year?”

“That was one party.” Jin smiled at the familiar voice, turning with a broad grin. “Or does the third-floor accounting group count? They’ve been eyeing me up since I got here.”

“Oh, I can’t believe you went there.” Jung Hoseok’s raucous laughter barely drew any attention, practically buried under the furious flow of Cypher bombarding the club. His crimson shirt sparkled under the dancing lights. “But they absolutely count. There’s also the Fifth-Floor Fan Friday Fellowship.”

Jin’s eyes widened.

“That’s a lot of effs.”

“Only one they’re interested in, though. Hint: it’s not in the group name.” Hobi wagged his eyebrows with a blatantly appreciative head-to-toe study of Jin. Hoseok flirted as easily as he breathed, so Jin knew better than to take it seriously, even after the best part of a year away from his relatively new friend. They’d met the previous winter when their friends, Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi, soul bonded.

“Don’t tell me you are part of the Fan Friday group.”

“I’d be the president, and you know it.” Hoseok sighed, hand clutching over his heart dramatically. “Alas. It’s employees only.”

“Oh, whatever.” Jin tugged Hoseok into a hug that the bike courier returned with an enthusiastic squeeze. “It’s good to see you, idiot.”

“Good to have you home, hyung.” He wrapped Jin up tight, swinging him off his feet, swaying back and forth.

“Put me down, you handsy Seok-topus.” Jin squawked at the undignified treatment. “Who let you in here, anyway? This is a company party.”

 “Why did I miss you?” Hoseok’s smile rivaled the sun for brightness as he set Jin back on his feet and gave him a playful shove. “You’re so mean.”

“I’m so exhausted.” Jin shoved a hand through his unstyled hair. He’d spent most of New Year’s Eve traveling, only to be rushed off to this party. Jin still looked fantastic, just maybe not quite as put together as he’d prefer. “All this babysitting baby idols business? Do you know how hard it is to find any quality me time when you’re on the road for eight months with a pack of feral teenagers? I’d trade it all for an alcoholic beverage and a blow job.”

“Not getting your pipes cleaned out on the regular is on you, Jin-hyung.” Alcohol turned Hoseok’s already sassy mouth extra blunt. He eyed the way Jin absently rubbed his thumb along the inside of his left wrist. “A lack of matching soul words rarely stops people from taking care of basic human desires.”

Jin cleared his throat as Hoseok eyed Jin’s closest friend and colleague, Namjoon, currently unloading affection on his soulmate, Yoongi—aka the rapper Cypher—who’d just finished his set downstairs on the club’s main stage. Joonie had definitely gone through a love ‘em and leave ‘em phase before meeting Yoongi.

“Happy New Year, Hoseok-oppa!” A woman Seokjin didn’t know twirled through their conversation with a quick kiss to Hobi’s cheek. Hoseok had obviously made his share of friends within the company while Jin was away. She glanced at Jin and her jaw dropped before she recovered with an impressive wolf whistle. “Happy New Year, handsome!”

The obvious come-on didn’t prompt what any sort of normal person might consider a normal reaction. As potentially triggering encounters went, this should have been pretty low on the scale, but Jin flinched. Hard.

She didn’t seem to notice though, too busy whispering something to Hoseok.

Six months ago, he would have shamelessly accepted her words as his due, because it was in fact only a couple of hours until the new year became official, and he was in fact handsome.

Six months ago, when the words were a pale gray concept shadowing the inside of his left wrist. Fuck, six hours ago, even. He didn’t know precisely when they’d changed—somewhere between the rush from the airport to the dorms to the club—but he’d lifted his depressingly non-alcoholic first drink of the night and caught the midnight black color of the words taunting him.

The fucking words.

Sorry. The fucking soul words.

Some mystical connection to some person out there who would somehow be perfect for Seokjin. Everyone knew the darker the words appeared, the closer a soulmate was. They probably taught as much in those in utero podcasts that promised to make your baby smarter, stronger, and taller, and shit.

Obviously, he knew it was all real. Joon and Yoongi were all the disgustingly adorable proof anyone needed. Even when they fought, they were so clearly each other’s person.

Jin managed a subtle peek at his wrist, though clearly not subtle enough if Hobi’s startled wheeze was any indication, his wide eyes in danger of popping out of his head. He played it off to the woman as swallowing his drink wrong as Jin tried to discreetly study the marks on his wrist in the strobing club lights. Still ink black, dangling stupid possibilities he wasn’t even sure he wanted in front of him. There was no new shimmer to them, so apparently the woman who’d casually shouted his words was not the one.

Hobi urged the woman along with a smile and a flirty promise for midnight. Then he whipped around on Jin.

“Yah!” He jabbed Jin’s shoulder. “Did she just say your words?”

“No.” Seokjin schooled his features into something he hoped resembled a smile but was probably somewhere between a grimace and a scowl as Hoseok recoiled. “I mean, yes. But no.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“Rude.” But Jin’s lips pursed to hold back his laugh.

“Oh, I know.” Hoseok waved it off without apology. “Jang Nari is just—so not your type, hyung.”

“Again,” he huffed. “Rude. Besides, how would you know?”

“Um…pretty sure she doesn’t have a penis. Other than that—”

Jin choked on a sip of his soda.

“I, on the other hand—” Hoseok lifted a hand to his forehead with a dramatic sigh. “We could be killing your soulmate wait with the torrid office romance of the decade.”

“Decade’s over in—” He checked his watch. “Two hours.”

“A very short affair, then,” Hobi agreed easily. “But I promise, I could still make it torrid.”

“Ugh, you’re gross.”

Hoseok clinked his beer bottle against Jin’s glass.

“They’re close tonight, aren’t they?” Hobi’s gentle hand touched his arm. Fingertips ghosted over his wrist, as though Hoseok could see the tidy hangul there. “Whoever they are.”

“Seems that way.”

“Are you—” He seemed to rifle through his mental thesaurus looking for just the right word, and Jin almost smiled for real this time. “—well?”

 “As well I can be with my unknown soulmate wandering around nearby somewhere. Maybe they’re downstairs right now, grinding on a total stranger, and wouldn’t that just be fucking awesome?”

“Ouch.” Hoseok winced. “Here’s to the universe maybe not being such an asshole.”

“Amen, Seokie,” Jin said. “I’m gonna—mingle—or something. I see a few new faces.”

Seokjin worked his way through the pleasantly inebriated pack of Big Hit employees clustered at a sprawling group of tables haphazardly pushed together to make, not quite one large table, but more of a table amoeba, that was dividing and multiplying and threatening to consume the second floor of Singularity.

As he approached a table at the bar end of the amoeba, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The moment he saw the looks from his coworkers, Jin realized letting Hoseok go without an NDA might have been a critical error. Almost everyone here knew him. Or at least knew of him. Had very likely spoken to him at least once. The odds of any of them being—his—seemed laughable at best. Yet eyes watched him with undisguised curiosity.

He abandoned all hope of a night of peacefully stressing the fuck out, and headed for the mostly empty balcony overlooking the darkened stage. The two-story club wasn’t the sort of place Kim Seokjin frequented, but he could see a certain appeal in the grungy chic interior of Singularity. Though with his soul words taunting him, there was no relaxing.

The crowd below went strangely quiet as the DJ dialed back the music. The hush filled with abrupt cheers as a voice drifted out of the darkness, too raw to be anything but live singing. Raw. But exquisite. Moving. He might be hearing an actual angel, the low, rasping voice drawing a serious case of the feels from Jin. Maybe more like a fallen angel. There was something dark and shiver-inducing about the sultry serenade.

“I know you, don’t I?” Yeah. He’d heard him on some of the tracks Namjoon and Yoongi had sent him for opinions.

The stage stayed dark, but the crowd didn’t seem to mind, too busy losing their collective mind over the whispery croon that promised wonderful, terrible, and, oh yes, wonderful things.

“Tell me if my voice isn’t real…”

“It’s so real.” Jin crossed his arms over his broad chest, half in irritation and half in self-defense. He shuddered as the lonesome lyrics slipped through the club, absolutely not thinking about how that voice would sound against his skin. How it might sound in pleasure, instead of sorrow. How it might break helplessly as Jin slid his cock—

Nope. Not thinking. Not even a little bit.

And he absolutely, positively, did not wrap his right hand over his soul words with a wish barely held back on the tip of his tongue.

“You’re not a Disney princess, idiot.” Stupid words were making him crazy.

He needed a distraction.

He spun around and aimed for the table where Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok were absolutely, one hundred percent, singing along.

“I’ve heard this voice in your songs.” And maybe it sounded more like an accusation than it should have, but— “Haven’t I?”

“He’s done a few backing vocal lines for me,” Yoongi said easily.

“That’s it? He’s just a background singer?”

“For me? Yeah.” Yoongi was holding back, but he didn’t oversell it with one of his rare smiles.

“Who is he?”

“He’s not ready to be known by his face.” Yoongi huddled in an oversized hoodie that looked suspiciously like one Jin had sent to Namjoon for Christmas. “Sorry.”

“This is not a background voice.”

“I don’t disagree with you, hyung.”

“We need this voice, Yoongichi. What do I have to do to get him signed?”

“He’s shy.”

Finally, the trio’s calm façade cracked. Shattered just like the ice the nameless man sang of. Namjoon lost it. He surged from his chair, and lurched two steps, falling face first across Hoseok’s back, which absorbed most of Joon’s laughter. But the courier’s unrestrained hyena cackle more than made up for the loss of Namjoon’s. Yoongi kicked his soulmate’s leg.

“You have no chill, Kim Namjoon,” he growled. “Some Zen universe guru you are.”

“Being at peace with my life doesn’t involve lying.”

“Oh, okay, Studly Do-Right.” Yoongi snorted. “I’ll remember that the next time you and your buttery complexion tell me you didn’t use my very last face mask.”

“Hyung.” Namjoon buried his face deeper into Hoseok, earning another nudging kick from Yoongi.

“Don’t smother yourself, brat.” Hoseok twisted about and whacked Namjoon on the back of the head.

“So your singer is not shy, I take it.” Jin studied the bickering trio.

“You’d know if you weren’t busy jetsetting around the globe and making baby idols jealous that you might be more famous than they are.” Yoongi turned around on Namjoon and Hoseok—one’s laughter fueling the other’s in a feedback loop—apparently done with them both.

“That’s right.” Hoseok came up for air. “You’d have met him a dozen times over by now. In fact—”

“So sorry that said jetsetting is part of my actual job, asshats.” Jin was ready to dump all three over the balcony. “It’s not like I was on vacation.”

“In fact—” Hobi went on as though Jin hadn’t spoken.

 “Hobi.” Yoongi’s warning only gave Hoseok a moment’s pause.

“Maybe you can convince the man behind the voice he’s destined for greater things.”

“Well… yeah.” Jin shoved away the rapidly shifting ground beneath this conversation and straightened his broad shoulders. “Damn right, I can.”

“What have you done?” Yoongi’s head hit the table with a thud.

“It’ll be fine, baby.” Joon scooted back to his chair and tugged Yoongi over to him and into his lap. He ran both hands into the rapper’s currently mint green mop, and Yoongi ceded with a grumbled fine. “By the way, I ordered you more face masks. And bath bombs.”

Yoongi perked up at that, and Jin rolled his eyes.

★

The party was approaching the final moments of the year, and Seokjin—entirely too sober, yet unable to fully relax with so many trainees and so much unexpected scrutiny and unabashed inebriation in one place—sipped at his soda water. The potential for headlines and scandals—of which finding his soulmate in a crowded club on New Year’s Eve was the least of his concerns—had his anxiety amped up to the roof. He was exhausted from trying to let everyone have fun, but not too much fun.

“So where’s the singer?” His entire evening had dwindled down to one sad little desire. “He finished half an hour ago.”

“Relax, hyung!” Namjoon’s shout barely carried across the table. “PD-nim paid for a private party for a reason. You know you’re not working tonight, right?”

“The bar staff aren’t our employees.” And therefore not under Big Hit’s control. “What if—”

“We know them personally,” Yoongi assured him. “Especially that purple-haired one.”

“Whom you should totally say hello to,” Hobi suggested. “You’ve been sneaking lustful looks for—oh, at least the last half hour.”

Namjoon snickered at that.

Okay, maybe two sad little desires. He seemed to have an equal likelihood of getting zero satisfaction from both. He didn’t know how he’d missed seeing the lavender-haired bartender earlier. The man was—

“I’ve done no such thing.” Seokjin didn’t actually expect anyone to be fooled, but he wasn’t going to just admit anything.

“Whatever you say, hyung.” Namjoon laughed and clinked his beer bottle against Yoongi’s.

“Go get some champagne or something.” Yoongi gave him a lazy push toward the bar. “You’ve got a minute or two until the clock strikes twelve. You can let yourself go wild for just one drink.”

Jin made a face at Yoongi but headed for the bar. Maybe they were right. Maybe he needed to let loose, just a teeny tiny bit. And yeah, okay, maybe he could say hello to the bartender. He should have asked the others for his name.

Only, the bar was empty.

The crowd around him started chanting down the last few seconds of the year. He ignored the premature well wishes aimed at him, the repetition of his soul words clawing at him, forcing him to pause in searching for the bartender. He turned back to his table, almost colliding with the gorgeous man in question.

“Happy New Year, handsome!” The hot—seriously hot—bartender handed Jin a glass of champagne, even as Jin’s brain lamented at the man’s choice of words. Maybe lament was the wrong word. Was there a mononym for set off fireworks in his body? “I thought I’d lost you.”

Lost him? Jin accepted the glass with a confused smile, questions freezing on his lips as the bartender leaned in.

“Not soul-bonded, are you?”

Jin managed a shake of his head.

“Perfect. I’m Vante and you—are stupidly attractive.” That deep, husky voice—where had Jin heard it before? The bartender bit down on his full lower lip and winked, a silly, exaggerated move that should not have made him more appealing. “But you know that part already.”

Jin opened his mouth to answer, at least in kind, because yes, this man—Vante—was hot. Maybe as hot as Jin himself, even. The compliments slipped away unspoken though as Vante’s hands came up to frame Jin’s face. The bartender’s tongue flashed, flicking across that lush lower lip and shutting down all of Jin’s higher brain functions.

“It’s New Years,” Vante said, as softly as he could manage with the club going wild around them. “Don’t hate me for taking advantage, hm?”

A surge of hoots and whistles filled the air as the space between them vanished.

Then those wicked lips were working over his, and Jin thought he might die from the pleasure, from the need that roared to life inside him. They were the same height, though the bartender wasn’t quite as broad. Jin had always thought he preferred a more delicate sort, but this—this he could manhandle. Vante didn’t give up control of the kiss, and Jin just knew he’d be the same in bed. Or on the couch. Or face down over Jin’s dining room table. Vante would make Jin earn control. Jin might even lose, and he’d never found that idea so unbelievably sexy until this very moment. With this very man.

He grabbed at Vante’s slim waist and dragged him closer, swallowing the bartender’s raspy groan—hands wandering down, finding the muscular curves of his ass. Finding and lingering. With no particular interest in leaving. He squeezed, drawing another delicious sound from the bartender.

The hands on his face slid back, blunt fingernails scratching at the nape of Jin’s neck.

Take advantage anytime.

The words were there, on the tip of Jin’s tongue, he just needed a second to breathe. Only breathing seemed overrated with Vante’s long, lean body pressed hard against him, eager hands climbing into his hair, skilled tongue challenging his to a duel.

They finally came up for air, the younger resting his forehead against Jin’s with such easy intimacy. Like they’d done exactly this a thousand times or in a thousand lives before. Like it was no big deal to kiss a man within a centimeter of his life.

“Stick around, maybe,” the bartender murmured, the words almost lost beneath the hollering crowd and music. “I’d really like to do that again.”

Vante bounded off, blowing a kiss at Jin before jogging back to the bar.

An overexcited hand grabbed Seokjin’s wrist and spun him around before he could respond. He looked down at the small woman bouncing on her toes.

“Happy New Year, handsome!”

He recognized her as a member of the accounting group, but her name escaped him. Probably because most of his brain happily focused on feeding his libido, most significantly his rather insistent erection. Jin thanked the tight leather pants and oversized satin shirt he wore for their teamwork in containing his response to Vante’s kiss.

Just a kiss.

Just the most mind-blowing kiss of his entire twenty-six years of life.

“Isitme, isitme, isitme?” she chanted. “You’re Kim Seokjin, right?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.” Jin felt the oddest tug inside him somewhere as the bartender moved on. Come back. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue.

“I am such a fan of your v-lives?” The woman dragged his attention back. This time she shook his whole arm in her enthusiasm. “You’re so amazing?”

Was she asking him?

“Thank you?” he said.

She didn’t seem fazed by the uncertainty in his voice.

“Would you sign?” She pulled a notebook from her bag, and honestly? It was weird.

But he signed. And smiled for a New Year’s selca.

A dull ache in his—stomach? Kidney? Spleen? No, no. Somewhere higher. He rubbed his free hand over his chest, specifically his heart. Was the night finally getting to him? Was he—was he having a heart attack? “I’m not feeling very well. Please excuse me.”

He gently extricated himself from the woman with a flash of his best smile and a quick buss on her cheek. She shrieked, the sound mostly drowned out by the party.

Seokjin moved through the crowd, searching for Namjoon, Yoongi, anyone he recognized. His eyes somehow kept finding the gorgeous bartender, still handing out champagne, though his endearingly boxy smile only seemed to have its original wattage when it fell upon Jin. He knew exactly how exhausting it was, smiling and staying on point in front of so many. The man had presence, working the crowd like a pro, and Jin found he could easily picture him on a stage, fanservicing the hell out of the audience. He’d speak and—

The bottom fell out of Jin’s stomach.

That voice.

Yoongi’s vocalist.

“Seokjin-nim!” A frantic voice barely pierced the general roar of voices and music before a flailing body rammed into him.

They crashed to the floor—eww, what the hell had he just put his hand in?—Jin yelping as his tailbone took the brunt of the fall. His wrist ached, too, as he shoved the offending body away.

Jung Kai, all of seventeen years old and apparently still figuring out how momentum and gravity worked, shoved his auburn hair out of his eyes. He managed a bow, several of them, as he climbed to his feet and helped Jin up.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he blurted, brushing frantically at Jin’s clothes.

“Kai, what are you doing here? You’re not old enough to—”

“PD-nim is bringing everyone in.” Kai pointed toward the door, where Bang Sihyuk himself spoke with a bouncer. “There’s an emergency.”

“Shit.” He grabbed Kai by the scruff and propelled him toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

Jin spared one last glance at the bartender who was waving goodbye to several patrons as he wiped down the bar.

“I’ll be back for you,” he muttered. “Vante.”

Five minutes later, Jin found himself hustled into a waiting SUV, already occupied by Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Where’s the fire?”

Yoongi handed him his mobile phone in reply. Seokjin swore heatedly as he started the video waiting on the screen.

“Damn, I miss the days of grainy found-footage style scandals. Now it’s all ‘watch my catastrophic fuck ups in full HD!’ And of course the camera is deadass focused on his face.” Ahn Seoham. Underaged and under contract, with a beer in one hand and a young girl’s ass in the other. He wasn’t paying any attention to the camera. He was far too preoccupied with the game of tonsil hockey he played with a different girl.

“The girls are even younger than him,” Namjoon said.

“How?” Jin almost sobbed the word. “Seoham’s barely post-natal.”

“PD-nim is bringing everyone back to the nest for damage control.” Yoongi reached for his phone and brought up a new video. He gave Jin an odd look before handing it back. “The video of you is actually taking some of the focus off Seoham, but that probably won’t last long.”

“Video of—me?” Seokjin swallowed hard and pressed play on the second video, his cheeks already starting to burn. Because, oh god, there he was in all that crisp HD glory, his arms full of a certain gorgeous bartender, and his face saying he was clearly having the time of his life.

“That’s not exactly how we intended for you to meet Taehyungie, but—”

“Tae—hyungie?” The beautiful, sexy, bold, quirky Vante—was Kim Taehyung? And— “Yah! Kim Taehyung is your vocalist?”

Yoongi blinked, his feline eyes suddenly wide. Namjoon burst out laughing, nudging his soulmate.

“I told you he would recognize the voice, hyung.”

“Tell me what part of this video looks like a conversation.” Yoongi waved his hand at the phone, the video of Jin and Taehyung making his point well enough. “Whatever. The internet is half in a rage over anyone daring to kiss you, and half aglow that of course you claimed the most coveted New Year’s Eve kiss in Seoul.”

“Most coveted?”

“It’s his tradition, I guess.” Yoongi shrugged. “He’s been working at that club since he turned 21, so this is his third ‘kiss in the New Year’ thing. You know, instead of ‘ring in the New Year?’ Anyway, it gets the club a ridiculous amount of social media exposure. There’s a bit of butthurt going around that Vante got poached for a private party. Aw, look at that. You guys already have a ship name. Vjin.”

“Sounds like some weird vegetarian cult,” Hobi said.

“So he just kisses some rando?” Jin rubbed at the weird ache in his chest, feeling less all of a sudden. Less special. Less important. Just… less.

Yoongi’s sharp gaze made Jin squirm.

“No, he has standards. First—he has to find them attractive. Second—they can’t have found their soulmate.” Not soul-bonded, are you? “Third—he looks for mutual interest.”

“And apparently, you met all of the criteria.” Namjoon looked oddly pleased by something. “Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“Are you aware you keep rubbing your wrist?”

“I think maybe I sprained it when Kai knocked me over. He’s like a giant puppy.” He grimaced. “Also, the club floor was disgusting. Remind me to have this interior cleaned and my clothes burned.”

“Boo.” Namjoon scowled. “You have to wait all damn year for someone to say your words. I was hoping you’d found them tonight.”

“Hyung, you didn’t tell them?” Hobi bounced in his seat. “His soulmate was close tonight.”

“Yah, hyung!” Namjoon punched Jin’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Did you find them?”

“Of course not. I—” Jin looked down to where his right thumb was, guilty as charged, stroking over the inside of his aching left wrist. He turned it up to see his words—his stupid, useless words. He’d heard them so many times tonight and— “Oh, my god.”

A shiver ran through his whole body. Even in the dim glow of the city filtered through the tinted windows, he could see the change.

“Someone did say my words tonight.”

“Someone?”

“Yes, someone.” Seokjin snapped a look at the others. “Do you have any idea how many people say Happy New Year at a fucking New Year’s party?”

“Happy New Year, handsome,” Hoseok stressed.

“Yeah, but—did Taehyung say your words?” Yoongi asked.

“Yeah.” Jin thought he might vibrate apart from the inside. “So did a dozen other people, especially after Jung Hoseok told half the company that just maybe my soulmate was actually in the building, and—”

“Holy shit, you did what?” Namjoon’s jaw dropped.

“I did not divulge the words. I’m not an idiot. Someone must have overheard us talking.”

“Just because Taehyung and I shared a hormone and champagne-fueled moment—”

“Tae doesn’t drink,” Yoongi offered. “One beer and he’s done, so he steers clear. Even when he isn’t working.”

“And I didn’t see you drinking anything but soda water.” Namjoon caught Yoongi’s phone as it slid from Jin’s hand. “Did you even drink a champagne toast?”

“I—no.” He’d been ready to indulge in just one glass, but never got the chance. “Someone asked for an autograph and selca, and then Jung Kai mowed me down, and now I’m here.”

He frowned down at his now-shimmering words.

“So we’ve ruled out alcohol-inducement,” Yoongi said.

“I stand by my initial assessment that you two would be next level together.” Hobi crossed his arms and sank back against his seat. “Maybe it was him.”

“I’m not saying kissing him was some kind of hardship.” Jin wanted to turn around, go back and talk to the bartender, maybe kiss him again. Until the sun came up. But he knew it couldn’t be Taehyung. No matter how much he might have wanted to say something to the man, he hadn’t. So they couldn’t be soulmates. “It wasn’t.”

“Then—”

“It isn’t him.” Jin cut Namjoon off. “He said plenty, but—I didn’t actually speak to him.”

“Well, shit.” Yoongi curled up into Joon’s side. “I was really hoping Hoseok was right about you two.”

“Hobi was definitely on point about the chemistry,” Jin admitted. “That was pretty much the most amazing kiss of my life. And out of everyone I ran into tonight—I really kind of wish it was Taehyung.”

He hadn’t felt such a powerful connection to anyone in his life. But he would have said something to Tae, right? He would have to. That’s just how it worked.

He sank into his seat, gaze focused on the passing cityscape, fully prepared to sulk until he had to deal with the Ahn Seoham debacle.

If the city’s twinkling lights reminded him of Kim Taehyung’s bright eyes, and if the fireworks popping and sparkling around the district reminded him of the rush of Taehyung’s kiss, there was no help for his insta-crush but time.

Kim Taehyung… Why couldn’t it be you?

Chapter Text

김

TAEHYUNG

“Look look look. It’s him.”

“Oh, fuck. He’s even prettier in real life.”

“I thought the pics had to be faked.”

There were any number of professions Kim Taehyung could have—and arguably should have, if his parents were consulted—chosen for his life.

If he’d ever imagined himself capitalizing on the one gift he had little control over, he would’ve laughed at himself.

His college studies had focused on art, photography, singing. You know, the practical shit.

Scholarships only paid most of his school fees, so while his classmates were busy partying, Taehyung was busy slinging drinks and collecting his classmates’ spending money working at a local club. By the time he had a degree in hand, he’d paid off school and learned he enjoyed having money. It was a form of security he hadn’t had much of as a child, and there was no doubt his parents appreciated his ability to make, save, and grow his money.

Instead of embracing the starving artist life, he graduated with enough capital to invest in a venture he didn’t tell his family about until they came by his Gangnam apartment and noticed he wasn’t particularly starving, and only dabbled in his arts as his schedule allowed.

Any concerns they had about his future further evaporated when he bought them a new house in a nice area of Daegu.

Now, he was co-owner and head bartender at Singularity, and he was known all over the Gangnam district, and a good bit of Seoul. Not for his art or photographs, which hung throughout Singularity and several art galleries. Not for his business savvy and successful club.

“He always looks so damn beautiful.”

But for his face.

“So damn fuckable.”

“I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.”

“Hell, I’d chain him to it.”

Yeah, that was him, apparently. Beautiful, fuckable, chainable to the bed Kim Taehyung.

Singularity’s Twitter and Insta accounts were littered with pics of Tae, most taken by patrons, with comments ranging from sweet and supportive to obsessive and perverted. He really wished people didn’t feel quite so free to discuss him. Threaten him. Proposition him.

“Think he’s found his soulmate?”

He smiled at the pair of stage whisperers.

“Champagne, ladies?”

“Yes, Daddy,” one all but purred.

Thank all the gods, stars, and whatever else was involved in Taehyung’s soul words—the very first words his theoretical soulmate would speak to him—for not being that.

“I don’t suppose you’re on the menu?” the second chirped with a giggle.

They were determined to give his actual soul words a run for their suggestive money.

“New Year’s special?” the first added, smirking.

They both glanced at Tae’s left wrist, such an easy assumption. One he saw a dozen or so times a night. Soul words appeared on the non-dominant wrist, and only ten percent of the entire world was left-handed. So they had a ninety percent chance of eye-fucking the correct spot.

Not many people knew Taehyung started life as a leftie, and he saw no reason to enlighten these two. So he didn’t look at his right wrist, where his soul words were now black as the internet’s soul. His soulmate was close. Maybe even inside Singularity right this moment.

Just not one of these two.

They gave each other a such is life shrug and wink when his wrist remained bare to them.

He realized he’d come too close when he felt the fingers walking along his waist, nails digging slightly into his hip.

“Only cocktails, I’m afraid.” His breath hitched, hopefully not enough for these vultures to notice.

The ladies snickered at his words, and Taehyung jumped in before they could take his poor choice down more lascivious back alleys. He already felt dirty.

“Sorry, lovelies. Champagne?” Thank the planetary rotation this night was almost over. He didn’t wait for them to accept, just plunked the plastic glasses down on the high-top table with a bit more force than necessary. “Happy New Year.”

“Wow. Attitude, much?”

“Shit, maybe he heard you call him fuckable?”

“Whatever. He should be grateful for the positive attention.”

He dropped his tray at the bar, calling to Kim Minjae, his co-bartender for the night.

“Jae-yah.”

“Yes, Vante-seonbae!” The younger bartender came trotting over, an eager smile puffing out his baby cheeks. He looked like a puppy but sounded more like a Great Dane with his smooth, deep voice.

“Mind if I pour the champagne for a bit?” Taehyung set up a line of clean plastic flutes. “I need a break from—”

The crowd. The entitled looks. The uninvited touches.

“You got it, seonbae.”

Tae popped the cork on a fresh bottle—the professional way, not the spill-half-the-bottle way—and poured.

“No dropping trays on the guests tonight, okay?”

Minjae’s cheeks burned bright.

“I won’t, seonbae.”

“Ease up on the formalities, Min-ah. You’ve been here long enough to call me hyung.” Taehyung leveled a narrowed stare on Minjae, who blinked. “And Moon-noona’s on her way back to the bar. Best go before she gets close enough to make you lose all motor skills.”

“Oh, shit.” Minjae gulped and carefully centered the tray on his hand. He took care not to make direct contact with Moon Byulyi and disappeared into the crowd.

Moon grinned knowingly as she came up to the bar.

“Have you convinced him to ask me out yet?” She traded Tae an empty tray for a fresh one. “He’s so damn adorable, but I think it might break him if I do the asking.”

“I stand by the rap battle idea, noona.”

“I’m not challenging him.” She huffed at the idea. “Boys are too fragile for that shit.”

Taehyung smiled at Moon.

“If he’s too delicate to duel, then he’s a nothing but a fool.”

“Don’t you rhyme at me, boy.” She swiped at his shoulder with her free hand.

“He might give you a run for your money.”

She shifted the tray to her shoulder with a sassy wink.

“He better.”

He waved Byulyi off and prepped the next tray.

“Yah, Vante.”

Taehyung almost cringed reflexively, but the familiar voice registered first. He grinned back at the sunshine smile beaming from across the bar. Jung Hoseok waved. With his whole body.

“Hobi-hyung!”

“You got a minute?”

“For you, hyung? At least two.”

Hobi cackled and practically raced him to the end of the bar, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him away from the balcony, where the Big Hit crew clustered to watch RM warm up the crowd for Cypher. The producer didn’t often take the stage, but Yoongi had slowly been working his soulmate up from the occasional duet to a handful of his own songs.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s here.” Hoseok channeled some adorkable undercover spy energy.

“He.” Tae nodded sagely. “That narrows it down, hyung. Really.”

“Kim Seokjin. The man I’ve been trying to introduce you to for my entire life.”

“Ah, I see. My one true love according to Jung Hoseok.” Tae chuckled. “It’s only been a year, hyung. And most of that doesn’t even count since your boy was out of pocket for ninety percent of it.”

“I’m just saying—I’ve got a feeling about you two.”

“So he’s back from his grand expedition, huh?”

“Just today.”

“And you want me to meet the hypothetical love of my life while he’s jet lagged and dragging ass?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Hoseok gripped his shoulders and turned him to the crowd.

“Feast your eyes right there,” he said. “The shoulder gangster in the giant pink hoodie and ball cap.”

“What the—” Taehyung covered his mouth to hide a giggle. “Shoulder gangster, huh?”

He promptly ate his skepticism as Yoongi stepped in front of the mythical Kim Seokjin, and was promptly swallowed in a hug.

“Oh,” Tae said softly. “He is rather…wide.”

“Teeny tiny waist though. He’s got that perfect Dorito build.” Hoseok hip checked him. “And you like it, don’t you?”

“Huh?” Taehyung jerked his head away from Kim Seokjin. “No.”

“Ah. You love it.”

“What?”

“You want some more of it.”

“Are you—are you—no, you are. You’re nuts, hyung. I’ve literally looked at the man one time.” And Kim Taehyung did not want a man who could stop traffic. Especially one who looked so damn comfortable doing it. Tae didn’t want—he just didn’t.

“You’re practically drooling.”

“Lies.” Taehyung felt the blood drain from his face, the world around him going a little fuzzy at the edges. “Slander.”

“You’re so fucking perfect for him,” Hobi laughed. “The universe has to back me up on this. Beauty and the Beauty. The visual feast of the generation.”

Tae’s stomach lurched, but Hobi continued on, blithely unaware.

“You two are a cosmic crush fest. Your combined social media will lose their minds.”

No. No, no, no. Nonononono.

“He could be your one.”

“Doubtful.” Why would you even suggest that? He rubbed at his wrists. “You always such a romantic, hyung?”

“What do they say?” Hobi’s shrewd eyes narrowed. “Is your soulmate close?”

“Nothing important, and no.” Lies, lies, lies. “I—I need to—I’ll catch up with you in a bit, hyung.”

“Taehyungie?” Hoseok caught on to Taehyung’s discomfort.

“Office stuff, hyung. I’ll be back.”

“Wait, Tae. Are you—”

He bolted for the cramped office tucked discreetly behind it, cutting Hoseok off with the door.

“Yah, hyung.” He leaned against the door, as though that could be enough to put an end to the night. “How much longer until the new bartenders are up to speed? I can’t take this shit anymore.”

Taehyung’s business partner, Park Bogum, scooped his hair back from his forehead, looking mildly alarmed. Like Tae, he wore the Singularity management uniform, a silky emerald green button up with their logo embroidered on the back and collars, tucked into crisp black slacks.

“What happened?”

“Just the usual.” Tae’s head thunked against the door. “Hoseok-hyung is trying to set me up with a fucking model, and some witch thinks I should be grateful she finds me fuckable.”

“Drunk people have no filters.” Bogum’s smile eased the vise around Tae’s aching heart. “And, in defense of fucking models, have you seen you?”

“You wouldn’t chain me to your bed, would you?”

Bogum choked on air.

“I mean—not permanently.”

“So I’d get like, bathroom breaks?”

“Definitely.” Bogum’s mouth twitched. “Probably walkies, too.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tae felt a much needed laugh building in his chest. “Exercise is good.”

“Do you prefer a retractable leash, or-or—”

Taehyung grinned, letting the stress of the night ease in this safe space.

Bogum pitched back in his chair, laughter breaking free. Tae joined him, until both had tears streaming down their cheeks.

“Chained? Seriously? Fuck—I can’t breathe. We probably could have chosen a more sober business model.”

Taehyung’s sides ached.

“Ah, but it’s not just the drunks, hyung. Have you seen our Insta comments lately? I’m practically public property.”

“I don’t want to say you never used to mind, Tae. But you maybe didn’t mind quite this much? What’s changed?”

“I—I always minded, and you know it. I signed up as a business partner, not a spokesmodel. This club does not pay me nearly enough for playing the pretty fuck boi.”

“Yah, I’ve seen your apartment.”

Taehyung managed a watery chuckle. “Hyung, please.”

Bogum had the decency to look away, clearly flustered.

“Okay, yeah, I owe you big. I know we wouldn’t be so successful, not this quickly, without your popularity.”

Taehyung slid to the floor. “Even you don’t think I’m good for anything but my face.”

“Shit, Taehyungie.” Bogum shot up from his chair, crouching in front of Tae. He ran a hand over Tae’s hair, tugging gently at the ends. “That is not true. Please tell me you don’t believe that.”

Taehyung didn’t get to answer before his hyung pulled him into a bear hug. Tears stung his eyes. He was just so fucking tired of being treated like a piece of meat.

“I need to feel like a real person again, hyung,” Tae murmured, chin resting on Bogum’s shoulder. “I’m more than this.”

“You are, little brother.” Bogum’s hold on him tightened. “So much more. I am so, so sorry, Taehyungie.”

Over Bogum’s shoulder, Taehyung studied his wrist, the soul words taunting him.

Take advantage anytime.

Felt like half of Seoul followed that ideology around him. Or at least wanted to. Even his soulmate.

“You promised me my front-of-house requirements would be temporary, hyung. Fast forward three years, and only one of us is still working the bar.”

“Can you get through midnight?”

“You mean through the kiss?”

“Yeah.” Bogum had the grace to flush as he said it.

What if—what is he kissed his soulmate? What if he didn’t? What if his soulmate saw and—

“I don’t know, hyung.”

“We did kind of advertise it.” The tips of Bogum’s ears burned red. “Maybe Minjae—?”

“We can’t spring this on someone else.”

The ‘Kiss in the New Year’ gimmick had never been Taehyung’s idea. It was a misnomer to call it an idea at all, rather than the clusterfuck of their first NYE bash ending with a highly publicized kiss Taehyung never asked for. He’d only played along to avoid a scene. Somehow it had become a thing.

Just like me.

“Yeah, okay. But this is it. The last one, Park Bogum.” Taehyung suppressed a shudder. He could do it one more time. Find a stranger he found attractive enough to lock lips with for a few moments. “Or I sell my controlling portion of the company to your father.”

“Fuck, Tae.”

“Don’t forget who contributed the bulk of the capital to open this place, hyung.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“I’ll do it. This place will be a matchmaking club by Valentine’s Day, with you as the primary attraction. You know how much he wants grandbabies.”

“Aish, okay, okay. You’re a terrifying negotiator, Kim Taehyung.” Bogum held up his hands. “But, message received. The newbies are almost done training. They’ll take over starting tomorrow, okay? Just come in to shadow in case they go down in flames.”

“But I’m otherwise off the floor.”

“You’re a ghost. I never knew a Vante.” Bogum studied him with sudden and unnerving clarity. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize.”

Taehyung lifted one eyebrow in question.

“How bad it’s been. I took your cooperation for granted.”

“I put on a good show for the sake of the club.”

“You’re a good actor.” Bogum ruffled his hair. “So if you’re not going to be the face of Singularity, you’re going to have some time on your hands. We could hire a bar manager, if you’re really ready to move on. Pursue your passion for a change.”

“I have plenty of passion for this place.” Tae scrubbed his face with his hands, probably destroying half of his makeup. “I’m just tired of people looking at me like the sum of my parts is just my face.”

“Like I said, Taehyungie, it’s a pretty good face.”

“Hyung,” he whined.

“Relax. I know your dreams are bigger than a nightclub, Taehyungie.” Bogum ticked off his fingers. “Your photos. Your paintings. Your voice. All of them have left their mark here as surely as your face.”

His voice.

Was that the direction his so-called passions were leading him?

“Cypher-hyung brought me in to do some backing vocals for his upcoming mini album.”

“Seriously?” Bogum choked on his breath, coughing and pounding on his chest. “And you didn’t fucking tell me? Yah, Kim Taehyung—are we not friends anymore?”

“Shut up, hyung.” Taehyung hid his flaming face, staring at the floor. “I just told you, didn’t I?”

“In the past tense, Tae. Past. Tense.”

“Point is, it was kinda cool. He and RM-hyung are trying to convince me to record a demo for Big Hit.”

He didn’t call them by their real names, though Bogum at least knew Yoongi’s name. His hyungs wanted to keep that line in the sand between their public and private lives drawn as long as possible.

“Cypher and RM?” Bogum didn’t scream, exactly, but it was a close thing. Taehyung found himself squashed flat on the floor in a gangly Park Bogum hug.

“Yah, hyung.” He shoved at the taller man, who was surprisingly heavy for being more limbs than anything. “I can’t breathe.”

“You’re talking,” Bogum mumbled, his face smooshed against Taehyung’s shoulder. “That’s evidence to the contrary.”

“Get off me.”

“Yaksokhae,” he muttered.

“What?”

Bogum clambered to his knees, straddling Taehyung’s abdomen.

“Fuck, are you trying to crush me?”

Bogum held out his pinky and Taehyung stilled, staring at the digit suspiciously.

“What is this?”

“Promise me you’ll do it.”

“The demo?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Taehyung-ah.” The pinky waved in his face, scolding. “This club goes crazy for your voice.”

“I’m not that good.”

“No, you’re that amazing. So, c’mon.” He wrestled Tae’s hand in line with his. “It’s a demo. Not a contract. It doesn’t matter if nothing earth shattering comes of it, though I’m pretty sure it will. You’ve got fucking RM and Cypher in your corner.”

Taehyung linked his finger with Bogum’s.

“Stamp it.”

Their thumbs came together, sealing the promise.

“This is made under duress, hyung.”

“It counts.” Bogum stood, towing Taehyung to his feet. “Why don’t you go grab the stage for around eleven? Give Cypher and RM a sampling. They’re gonna want more than a demo when they see how the crowd reacts.”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll cover you at the bar. You know you want to sing.” He spun Tae around, hands briskly sweeping the back of Tae’s clothes. “We should have made the uniforms dust brown. Anyway, H.One won’t mind. DJing for you is practically a break.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“Just come back for midnight.”

“One last time.”

“Yaksokhae.”

★

He returned to the bar with half an hour to spare. As the minutes counted down, only one continued to catch his eye for the kiss. They hadn’t spoken, but Kim Seokjin had stared at Tae more than once. Had Hoseok given him a similar hype speech? Would he laugh if Tae approached him?

“Only one way to find out.”

He grabbed up two champagne flutes and headed into the fray. The crowd chanted down the seconds and Taehyung lost sight of him.

Where is he?

Broad shoulders. Bright eyes. An endearingly squeaky laugh he’d caught in passing. Hair just this side of shaggy and deliciously unruly, a temptation to bury his hands and get lost in.

He spotted those impossible shoulders just as Seokjin turned, almost running into him.

“Happy New Year, handsome!”

Dear universe, how could he be even more beautiful up close? Shouldn’t there be visible flaws? Tae swallowed down his nerves—he seriously hated this, even as he admitted to himself that under any other circumstances, he would jump at this opportunity—and handed the man a glass of champagne, ignoring a moment’s uncertainty as his dark eyes narrowed, something brittle and sharp lurking in their depths.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

The man accepted the glass with a confused smile, mouth opening slightly as Tae leaned in.

“Not soul-bonded, are you?”

A shake of his head. The strong and silent type, apparently.

“Perfect. I’m Vante and you—are stupidly attractive.” Tae bit down on his lower lip and winked, hoping to lessen any weirdness in the moment, but knowing him, he probably looked like a gleeful psycho. “But you know that part already.”

Clearly, the man had no intention of saying anything. Tae stifled a moment’s disappointment. His soulmate was probably in this very club somewhere, and yeah, he’d entertained a momentary wish that he’d somehow pick the one for the New Year’s kiss. Well, it was too late now. The crowd was cheering, and there was no time to find someone else. He didn’t want anyone else. So his hands came up to frame Kim Seokjin’s face. His tongue slid across his lower lip in anticipation.

“It’s New Years,” Tae said softly. Then decided there was no harm in serving up an opportunity for fate and stardust and whatever pitiful magic existed in the world to align and put Tae out of his misery. It could still be you, right? “Don’t hate me for taking advantage, hm?”

A surge of hoots and whistles filled the air as the space between them vanished.

One touch. One taste.

Taehyung knew he was in trouble.

Don’t ruin me.

Tae melted against the broader man, mouth sinking into the other’s plush lips. They were the same height, though there was something about the breadth of Seokjin’s shoulders that made Tae feel just a tiny bit small. Like he wouldn’t mind being manhandled. Like he might not mind losing control.

Seokjin didn’t stay passive for long, swallowing Taehyung’s helpless moan as his strong hands gripped Tae’s waist and dragged him closer. Those magical, demanding hands wandered down, securing their place on the curves of Tae’s ass. They squeezed, drawing a fresh moan from Tae’s throat.

Tae walked his hands back, meeting at the nape of Seokjin’s neck, nails scraping and tangling in the finest wisps of hair. He made a sound that set Tae’s teeth on edge, his voice unexpectedly soft and high. A beautiful harmony of delicate tenor to Taehyung’s husky baritone.

And fuck, but he could almost imagine how sweet his words would sound spilling from Jin’s pillow lips.

Say my words. Taehyung wanted to run away. Wanted to drag this man with him. Wanted to find someplace quiet and private. Please say my words. I want to know you. I want everything with you.

But he couldn’t stop kissing long enough to give the man a breath to speak. His eager hands climbed into Seokjin’s silky, shaggy hair, their tongues dueling for control as they pressed ever closer.

They finally came up for air, when Tae heard Bogum shout his name. He rested his forehead against Jin’s. Like this was a thing they did. Like maybe they’d done exactly this any number of times before. Tae forced himself to let go.

Like it didn’t mean anything.

“Stick around, maybe,” Taehyung flirted, the words barely audible over the party. “I’d really like to do that again.”

Tae made it sound so casual. So easy. His gut churned at the momentary shock on the Seokjin’s face as he walked away.

He couldn’t explain to anyone, not even himself, why every step felt so fucking wrong.

“Vante!”

The name almost made him cringe.

Almost.

Instead, he pasted a big smile on his face and hollered to the woman calling him, “Whatcha need, beautiful?”

He needed a moment to process. A private moment. The exact opposite of working a crowded club, filling drinks and clearing empties and smiling. Always. Fucking. Smiling. People ebbed and flowed, talking around, about, and at him.

Tae found his only true smiles came when he spotted Seokjin across the bar, the man’s gaze frequently finding him as well.

He wanted to grab Jin by the wrist and take him away from all of this.

He wanted to kiss him again and know if lightning could strike twice.

If it would burn just as sweet the second time.

The party erupted with sudden activity, of the evacuation variety. Tae scurried to keep up as the Big Hit group rapidly cleared out. He lost sight of Kim Seokjin in the exodus, but he supposed it didn’t really matter.

His wrist ached, where the jet black words etched into his skin mocked him, the color slowly fading.

Take advantage anytime.

“You really were here,” he whispered.

Bogum was crowing about the night’s receipts and the social media response—of course, the video was already online—but Tae zoned out, focusing on closing up for the night.

He started restocking the wells when the bright jolt of pain hit him. He jerked his hand out of the cooler, hissing. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d cut himself on a broken glass or bottle another bartender had left behind, but there was no blood. Not even a scrape.

Take advantage anytime, the soul words that had sent his parents into a minor spiral when six-year old Tae first noticed them on a family trip to Seoul, disappeared.

Tae caught his breath as new words stained his skin.

He didn’t panic.

New words.

New words meant a new chance.

Please don’t run.

Okay, maybe he panicked a little.

★

A fiery ache in his wrist woke Tae. He groaned at the intrusive pain, shifting in his bed as it dragged him up from a deep sleep.

“What? Changing on me wasn’t enough for one night?”

The changing itself didn’t exactly scare him—he knew from Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s experiences that changing wasn’t really the upsetting part. It was knowing how close they’d been. They had almost met, and Tae wondered what had stopped them.

Maybe the part where you stuck your tongue down a hot stranger’s throat?

Maybe his soulmate had been all set to say hello, when Tae just had to kiss one unforgivably hot Kim Seokjin. In front of God, half of the staff of Big Hit Entertainment, and thanks to mobile technology, pretty much the world. He’d laughed off the first few tags as a video hit Instagram. Laughed, and agreed that yeah, they did look insanely hot together, as the OP noted.

Hell, he’d even served up an opportunity for Seokjin to respond with Tae’s words, but aside from his very pretty moans, he’d remained mute.

So he hadn’t properly panicked before. But now… he actually whimpered as the new pain grew.

“Whatever it is,” he muttered, “have mercy on a dead man walking. There’s only five hours between getting home from work and having to head back to work.”

He reached out for the table lamp on the nightstand, bathing the room in a soft glow as he turned the knob. He had the lowest wattage bulb he could find that still provided enough light to be useful, and he winced at the dim flare. Scrubbing his eyes to clear the fog of sleep, he brought his right hand up, expecting some sort of bruise or cut or swelling to explain the pain.

Cracks.

His soul words were cracking?

Spidery red lines radiated down his arm from them, the longest ones halfway to his elbow already. White hot pain had him curling up in bed, fingers clawing at the words burning him to the core, his body and mind collapsing in self-defense.

He woke to a familiar ringtone and entirely too much sunlight flooding his bedroom.

“Bogum-hyung,” Taehyung answered, trying to ignore the urge to puke. “I’m late. Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it, Taehyungie. I’m calling to tell you to stay the hell away from the bar for a few days, anyway.”

“What?”

“Kim Seokjin’s fans were waiting for you this morning. I’ve called in some extra security, but it’s best if you’re not here until this dies down.”

“This?”

“You’re a viral sensation, Taehyungie. And Seokjin’s fan club isn’t too happy about it. The crazy ones, at least.”

“It was just a kiss.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“Tell that to your kissee’s fans.” Bogum sighed, the speaker crackling. “They’re out for blood, and thanks to that vid, yours is in the water.”

“Anything else I should worry about?”

“Well—” Bogum’s voice dropped. “There is a—thing.”

“About me?”

“Indirectly.”

“Spit it out hyung.”

“Kim Seokjin met his soulmate at our club last night.”

“Oh?” That sounded nonchalant, didn’t it? Blasé, even. Everything sounded cooler in French. Seokjin met his soulmate. Taehyung missed his. Everything was fucking brilliant. “I hope he’s very happy.”

“You’re on the list of people who spoke his rather unfortunate words.”

Taehyung thought back to the very first thing he’d said to Kim Seokjin and winced.

“Ugh, seriously? Happy New Year, handsome?” Poor bastard. And Tae had actually hoped for a hot minute to hear his soul words spoken with an opening like that? “Probably half the club said that exact phrase to him.”

Bogum’s pause felt like a lead weight in Taehyung’s stomach.

“His soulmate isn’t—you?” Why did he sound even slightly hopeful? “Cypher called looking for you. Asked if I knew your soul words.”

What kind of cruel game was the universe playing? First teasing him with The Perfect First Kiss, and now their mutuals were pouring salt on the wound?

“But—we’ve never really—”

They’d never talked about it. Bogum lost his soulmate, so Taehyung didn’t talk about his. And if he didn’t talk about the words with his closest friend, he didn’t talk about them with anyone.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” The words felt like glass in Taehyung’s mouth. “Kim Seokjin didn’t grace me with a single word. Pretty sure that’s not how soul bonding works, hyung.”

“Taehyung?”

“I think—I think I need to cash in some of my vacation.”

“And do what?”

“Get the hell out of Seoul.”

Tears stung Tae’s eyes. He couldn’t help thinking he’d ruined something precious last night. Couldn’t help wishing Kim Seokjin had stayed anyway.

Even if Tae wasn’t the one.

Even if Tae’s words never even crossed his mind.

Chapter Text

김

SEOKJIN

“You’re sending me?”

Seokjin jolted in belated shock as his name and destination registered. Outside, the distant pop of fireworks dwindled as the night marched on. It was almost three AM, and he needed sleep. His wrist ached abominably from the fall at the club. He was frustrated and angry and—frustrated. The kind of frustrated that wanted to crawl into bed and jack off to memories of Kim Taehyung’s husky voice and electric kiss. Instead he sat in a tiny conference room with Big Hit’s upper level management team, apparently about to be shipped out less than twenty-four hours after getting home.

“To Japan?” He barely bit back the immediate and obvious whine of but I just got home.

Bang Sihyuk narrowed his eyes at Jin’s less than professional reaction. The other managers quietly cleared the room at the PD’s request, and he settled back in his chair, eyes steady on Jin. Sleepless, anxious, definitely not heartbroken Jin.

Get your head in the game.

“Sorry.” This was part of the job. Do the job first. Then find the soulmate. Going after a certain bartender was a sad and distant third. “Go on, please.”

 “Korea’s relationship with Japan is rocky on the best of days. To have our underaged idol boozing it up and fraternizing with equally underaged girls in their territory isn’t helping that relationship.”

“PD-nim, I—”

“I recognize this is bad timing for you, Seokjin-ssi.” Of all the idol companies Jin could have worked for, Big Hit wasn’t the worst by any stretch. Bang PD-nim might be just as savvy as any cold-blooded businessman, but he had a good heart to go with it that surpassed pretty much all the competition. “If I didn’t trust you above all others to help.”

Had Ahn Seoham really believe Tokyo beyond the Seoul media scope with only a short hop across the water between them? Had he even considered the fallout of getting caught?

“I met my soulmate last night,” Jin blurted.

“I realize your situation goes against what I’m asking of you. But getting out of Seoul for a few days might be best for you. Let your situation with the bartender and the soulmate cool off.”

“Am I in trouble, PD-nim?”

“No. You are a legal adult, who kissed another legal adult, with the both of you sober and willing, according to witnesses. None of those distinctions belong to what Seoham has done.” Bang Sihyuk leaned on the conference table, chin resting on his hands. “Which is why we’re not having the conversation I’ll soon be having with Ahn Seoham.”

“Then why are you sending me out?”

“I need a manager in Tokyo. Jimin called me when no one arrived to take them back to the hotel after their New Year’s show.” The first sign of true anger showed in Bang Sihyuk’s white-knuckled fists. “Bastard abandoned my boys and bounced through Narita International just after midnight. He got his payday and hauled ass.”

“Payday?”

“He sold the full video to the Tokyo and Korean media—it’s even more damning than the upload climbing the YouTube trending chart. We’re still figuring out the timeline on the video, but it occurred well before the show, because Jimin and Jeongguk say Seoham was on time and fine for the performance.”

Seokjin swore softly.

“That’s about right, Seokjin-ssi.” PD-nim favored Jin with a weary smile. “Legal will have him back here by the short hairs before he gets too far. There are so many contractual breaches, he’ll be lucky to collect a paycheck again in this lifetime.”

“2J has a show tonight, don’t they?”

2J—aka Jimin and Jeongguk—were rookies on their first tour after an eight-month training intensive. They weren’t the headline of the Japan tour, but from what Jin knew, they worked hard and performed harder, and audiences loved their energetic mix of athletic dance moves and stellar vocals.

Jin dug his scheduler out of his messenger bag. He kept track of all the appearances, just in case of emergency. Cue emergency.

“I wanted to cancel it, but those Busan boys are tougher than they look.” He turned his cell phone toward Jin with a chuckle, showing off a selca of a beaming Jimin and Jeongguk at the venue. “These idiots are adorable. Between them and you, we’ll show that one bad apple hasn’t ruined the world’s appetite for Big Hit.”

“Seoham’s out, right?”

“At this point, I don’t see anything that can save him. I could—and would—defend a relationship. A contract can discourage love, but it can’t prevent it. So if this were about a soul bond or even first love, I would stand by him. But this is just—”

“Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.”

“Essentially, yes.” Bang Sihyuk grimaced.

Jin had seen the entire YouTube video. Love was not a factor. Age. Hormones. A sense of blind immortality that only untarnished youth granted. Those were factors. And they, along with a solid international following, might save Ahn Seoham from total destruction, but Korean fans weren’t very forgiving.

“The news is all over the place. The media know exactly who Seoham is and public opinion is already crucifying him. All we can do now is damage control. I need you to help me by taking care of Jimin and Jeongguk.”

“They don’t deserve to go down with Seoham for this, but—”

“We’ll find your soulmate, Seokjin-ah.” PD-nim rarely dropped honorifics with anyone. This, out of anything his boss might say, told him Bang Sihyuk meant every word. “Go to Japan. Let this situation with you and the bartender and the soulmate cool down. When you’re back, we’ll hold an event to find your soulmate if we have to.”

An event?

“I don’t care if half the country turns out claiming to be your Cinderella, people can’t fake soul words.”

★

“Half the country?”

“That’s what PD-nim said.” Seokjin’s stomach turned, queasy at the thought as he led the way into his apartment. He had to work to speak around the building lump in his throat. “I mean—realistically—”

“Not even one percent of one percent of the country would fit inside Singularity.” Namjoon’s calm voice softened the edges of panic digging into Jin.

“Why are we sending you off to Japan, if your boss is set on helping find your soulmate, anyway?” Hoseok kicked his shoes off inside the door.

“Maybe it isn’t the worst idea.” Namjoon held the door for Yoongi.

“It’s a terrible idea, Joon.” Hobi shoved Namjoon back to the door. “We agreed on this.”

“And the Cinderella event is the worst idea,” Yoongi muttered. “Watch any rom-com ever. They do not end well.”

“Rom-coms inherently end well,” Namjoon said. “One could argue that’s their entire purpose.”

“My life is not a rom-com.” It might be a tragedy. Or he might be exhausted and overly emotional.

“The gossip is going a bit crazy about you right now, is all I’m really saying.” Namjoon ducked a swipe from Hoseok. “A little bit of space might be just the thing to help everyone chill out.”

“Yah, traitor.” Hobi hissed at Joon. “You’re supposed to be on Team Taejin here.”

“Taejin?” As in… Taehyung and Seokjin? “Is that—Jung Hoseok-ah! Did you make that up?”

“I like it better than Vjin,” he said with a shrug. “TaeTae is not remotely vegan.”

“No one here is vegan." Everyone in this room had lost their damn minds, himself included. “You’re seriously shipping us?”

“Duh.” Hobi made a face. “I shipped you before you even met, dumbass.”

“Respect your hyung.” Jin wanted to laugh, but he was pretty sure even the slightest giggle would lead to some ugly hysterical meltdown, because every goddamned part of his life felt wrong. Off. Like the world had shifted its axis without him. “You stupid asshats.”

He headed for his bedroom before he smacked someone. Or fell into a rom-com worthy crying jag all over how his soulmate just has to be the wrong person, and somehow the universe got it wrong.

His still-packed suitcases mocked him from their place by the closet.

“Anyway.” Namjoon sat on Jin’s bed, Yoongi perching between his legs. He rested his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder, who rubbed his cheek over Joon’s currently silvery blonde hair. “We’ll make sure that Cinderella thing never happens.”

“Stop being gross. You’re here to help me pack, remember?”

“Too late. I’m comfortable.” Yoongi sank against Namjoon, who happily wrapped his arms around his soulmate. Yoongi’s standard resting sleep face perked up a bit with a wide yawn, his feline eyes squeezing shut before popping wide. “And tired.”

Behind them, Hoseok flopped on his belly, thumb already scrolling over his phone screen. He side-eyed Jin. “And I’m protesting.”

“Protesting what?”

“You just got home, hyung.” He waved at the suitcases. “You haven’t even unpacked.”

“Alas, we’re all adults with jobs. Mine currently wants me in Japan.” He dumped one of his mid-sized suitcases, filling it with fresh clothes. “Apparently 2J asked for me.”

“That’s no surprise.” Yoongi yawned again, more or less melting against Joon. “Jimin and Jeongguk asked PD-nim to wait until you came back before sending them on tour.”

“Seriously?” Seokjin gaped. “I didn’t know that.”

“Of course.” Namjoon grinned. “All the cool kids want Jin-hyung as their manager.”

“There are cuddles and vast quantities of food,” Hobi said.

Jin scowled. At least those were more substantial qualities than handsome.

“Well, there’s still a week left in their tour, and their manager bailed.”

“We should be canceling the tour,” Yoongi said.

“PD-nim thinks that’ll be seen as Big Hit running and hiding.”

“Running and hiding sounds awesome. I bet there’s a lot of down time involved. Joon and I could sleep all day and produce all night.”

“Not all day and night,” Namjoon muttered.

“Objection sustained, Counselor.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

“No Law and Order role play in my bed!” Seokjin threw a balled up t-shirt at the pair.

“You should stay here,” Hobi said, shutting down Jin’s fit. “Tell them to send someone else.”

Jin blinked at him.

“Word is out that you met your soulmate last night.” Hobi focused on his phone. “Your followers are either deliriously happy and or determined not to share you with anyone, be it a soulmate or a slutty bartender.”

“Slutty?” Indignation pushed Jin to slap Hoseok’s foot, hating this uncomfortable need to protect Kim Taehyung. “Yah. A single kiss between two consenting adults does not make anyone a slut, Hoseok-ah.”

“Not my words, hyung.” Hobi kicked at Jin’s hand. “Aish. Seriously. But they are your fans’ words. And they’re just a small sample of something nasty that’s brewing in SNS.”

“The brighter the lights, the bigger and deeper the shadows they cast.” Namjoon wrapped himself around Yoongi.

“I’m too tired and too sober for philosophy, Joonie.” Jin shuddered at the unpleasant truth in Joon’s words anyway. Because he was only supposed to be fame-adjacent. He wasn’t meant for the destructive scrutiny of possessive and obsessive fans. “There’s no light on me.”

“You can’t leave Tae to face this alone.” Hoseok finally looked up, glaring at all of them. “Right? Right? Guys—these idiots are threatening our Taehyungie.”

“Tae won’t be alone.” Yoongi shuddered, drawing some soft murmur of response from Namjoon. His own mad dog fan had tried to kill him barely a year ago. “He’s got us.”

“He just kissed me, that’s it.” Jin grumbled, his entire body heating. Partly from embarrassment. Mostly from an outrageous desire to find Kim Taehyung and kiss him again. Repeatedly. “Nothing to cause such a fuss.”

“He kissed you, yeah,” Hobi said, his voice gruff. “At least at first. And that’s the part the mad dog objectionists are taking targeting.” He snorted. “Like you weren’t one hundred percent on board.”

“There did seem to be some—” Namjoon cleared his throat. “—rather enthusiastic participation on hyung’s part.”

“Yeah? No shit, Joonie. Your precious Taehyung is no slouch in the kissing department.” Jin kicked his suitcase across the room. “Shockingly enough, I’m not immune to a beautiful man trying to ruin me for all other kisses.”

“Ruin you?” Yoongi sounded concerned, or maybe just curious, but Jin couldn’t focus.

“And—and people make threats online. All the time. The internet is a moral vacuum.” It was one kiss. One stupid, impulsive, amazing, possibly life-altering kiss. “It—it was just a kiss.”

“Seokjin-hyung.”

“He gave me the chance to say no.” To say anything. He should be online defending Taehyung. Protecting him? Right? No, that always made it worse, didn’t it? Fuck, why did he care so much about this guy? The doubt buzzing in his brain, turning his stomach, churned through his heart.

I should have said something. Any fucking word at all, and then I’d know, right? I wouldn’t feel like maybe I—

“Seokjin-ah.”

“I’m not a fucking idol, damn it. I’m not obligated to play to fan fantasies.”

“That you’re not an ‘official’ idol means shit.” Yoongi stood, exhaling roughly. “You’re an idol to them. The handsome big brother who takes care of the talent, who makes sure everyone is fed and has a shoulder to lean on. They vicariously bask in your doting attention.”

“I can quit.” Go find Taehyung and run off to Busan and open a restaurant on the beach. “I’m still young. My parents would understand. I should just quit and—”

“Jin-hyung.” Seokjin shivered at Namjoon’s fierce tone as the younger swam into focus, right in front of him. Joon gripped his shoulders. “You’re spiraling, hyung. Breathe. Slow and easy, hm?”

Jin drew in a shaky breath, silently pleading with Joon for something, but he didn’t know what. Nothing made sense in his head. So all that came out was,

“Why does anyone fucking care if I enjoyed one kiss, huh?”

“Personally, I’m way more concerned with how much one kiss seems to mean to you,” Namjoon said softly.

“I’m not going to suddenly stop taking care of our people because of a kiss.”

“Of course you aren’t.” Yoongi shot an apologetic glance at all of them before saying, “But PD-nim might be right about this. 2J is salvageable. They need someone to get them through this and your thing with Taehyungie needs time to cool down.”

“What do you mean, salvageable?” Jin blanched at the implication. “Jimin and Jeongguk haven’t acted out of line.”

“Guilty by association?” Hoseok sneered.

“Exactly. So go be the big brother they need.” Yoongi bit his lower lip. “And—we’ll go see Taehyung, hm? Find out if he’s as wrecked over this as you are.”

“What about—” Taehyung. Fuck, why could he not scrub the bartender from his memory? Kim Taehyung was not his. “My soulmate?”

“The bond wasn’t triggered when you arrived at the club, but it was by the time you left,” Joon said. “So that gives us employees and their plus-ones, which many didn’t have, and the club’s staff. We’re looking at roughly two hundred people. And of those, there’s what, maybe two dozen who actually said the right words? The list is fairly exclusive and easily workable.”

“Soul marks can’t be photographed or seen on video, so we can’t video call you in Japan to confirm,” Yoongi added. “But like PD-nim said, people can’t fake them.”

“Someone from that party will be looking for you.” Namjoon gave a thumbs up.

Hobi snorted. Jin’s entire mood, honestly.

“There’s more to the bond than the words.” Hoseok got to his knees. “You all are just word blind. You can’t fake the kind of connection all of us either saw or directly experienced in that kiss.”

“What, like the kiss made Jin-hyung too dumb to speak?” Namjoon chuckled, but his expression drifted into thinking mode, brows furrowing as if this was an idea worth seriously considering.

Jin only frowned because, yeah. That was kind of exactly what happened.

“It took you and Yoongi-hyung over fifty tries to finally meet,” Hobi said. “The system isn’t perfect.”

“I did feel a pretty strong pull toward Joonie before we ever spoke,” Yoongi admitted, dragging Namjoon back to the bed.

“You three are hopeless romantics.” Jin sighed and sank down beside them.

Namjoon’s arm came around his waist, hand resting at his hip. Joon gave a light squeeze, not quite a hug, but close enough for comfort. Jin shifted to rest his head on Joonie’s shoulder. Hoseok draped himself over Jin’s back, cheek pressed to Jin’s.

“I always have hope.” Hobi turned his left wrist up, the closest they’d ever come to discussing. He’d had words once. Was the connection damaged or even broken? Would he ever know for sure if he met his soulmate? “If I can, you bet your barely-there backside you can.”

Jin let the warmth bracketing him brace him against the uncertainties ahead.

“Whoever it is,” Yoongi said. “They’ll be back to work and freaking the fuck out to all and sundry about their missing soulmate by the time you land in Tokyo, and you guys can spend the next week or two being disgusting and adorable through video chat.”

“Whoever it is,” Joon said softly. “They’ll be lucky to have you, hyung.”

Jin was grateful for their confidence, truly, but the question tumbled out of him anyway, slipping right past his self-preservation filter.

“And what about Taehyung?”

“What about him?” There was an unsettling stillness in the sharp way Yoongi and the others suddenly regarded him. “Our failed matchmaking hopes aside.”

Jin worried at his lower lip. “He did say my words.”

“But you didn’t say his.” Namjoon only spoke the truth, but the words hit different when he said them. They held a sort of finality that didn’t sit well with Seokjin at all, like some piece of him kept hoping for some sort of cosmic clerical error.

“I didn’t say anything at all to him.”

“Then why are you so concerned?”

Because he’d wanted to speak. He still felt the words caught in his throat. Maybe that was what troubled him so much. He should have said something, anything. Then he’d have closure. There would be no dangling sense of doubt. That he’d left the moment incomplete. Unfinished.

“I—” The words jammed up in his throat, crowded his tongue, but all that came out was, “Hoseokie’s right. He shouldn’t be alone.”

Weak, Kim Seokjin.

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Yoongi promised.

He just wasn’t ready for anyone else to close the door on Kim Taehyung. When he got home from Japan, he’d find the bartender and settle things. They’d have a chat and discover they had no connection beyond one impulsive moment.

No connection beyond a kiss Seokjin was certain he’d never forget.

Chapter Text

김

TAEHYUNG

A brisk shake of his right arm woke him as the train reached Daegu. Taehyung nodded a thanks to the passenger who woke him, rubbing his aching arm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired. Not during school, not even when Singularity had first opened and he and Bogum were living off ramen, energy drinks, and caffeine pills. The past eighteen hours had been something—different. Maybe he just needed a good night’s sleep. Maybe sleep couldn’t help the one-two mental and emotional punch to his soul.

He focused on leaving the station, forcing one foot in front of the other, grabbing a cab outside. Earbuds in to let the driver know conversation wasn’t necessary, he settled in to check his phone. He’d missed calls from Bogum, Yoongi, and Hoseok. Bogum wanted to check up on him. Yoongi wanted to know, quote, What the fuck are your soul words, Taehyungie, and why doesn’t even Park Bogum know? Hoseok skipped the voice mail, texting him a warning, echoing Bogum’s.

| Sunshine-hyung: keep your head down for a few days, taehyungie

Why did he have to be the one who disappeared? What was Kim Seokjin’s role in this farce? A new message chimed.

| Sunshine-hyung: stay away

| Sunshine-hyung: people are camped outside your apartment building

| Sunshine-hyung: shit is really weird

| Sunshine-hyung: never expected anything like this

| Sunshine-hyung: i'm sorry

Sorry? Hobi’s only fault in all of this was his enthusiastic insistence that Taehyung and Seokjin needed to meet. And, okay, maybe that was the catalyst for the current shit storm, but— Tae’s eyes widened as he saw his social media notifications neared two thousand.

“What the fuck is this?” he whispered, a gossip headline catching his eye.

Who stole the heart of Korea’s favorite big brother? Get the scoop on Singularity’s gorgeous bias wrecker, Vante.

Bias wrecker? He clicked on the link before he thought better of it, horrified to find a philosophically salacious profile on him, seriously asking people to weigh in on whether Seokjin should find his soulmate (the bias) or toss the poor unknown person for his “obvious” sexual chemistry with Vante (the wrecker). Worse, the article threw his real name out there, and enough of a bio for Tae to know an employee at Singularity had talked.

He forwarded the article to Bogum with the message Find out who needs to be fired, getting back a terse Already on it a minute later.

What the actual fuck had his life become in less than twelve hours? Anger at the absurdity of it all pushed him to call Big Hit, only to find out Kim Seokjin had fucked off out of the country. So much for support from the other half of this mess. His phone chimed spastically with new notifications so he powered it off. Passing the rest of the ride in silence, he absently noted changes here and there since he’d last been home. New businesses, new construction, sprouting up in the place of faded childhood memories.

The cab arrived at his parents’ home and Tae struggled to shoulder his backpack as he exited his cab, his whole right arm weirdly weak. He paid the fare with a slight bow to the driver. Gritting his teeth, he walked up to the gate, pressed the buzzer, leaning against the stone wall to wait.

He knew it was the tiniest bit warmer in Daegu compared to Seoul, but January was January, and Taehyung couldn’t feel any appreciable difference. The weak winter sun provided little relief from the chill, but at least it wasn’t snowing. He shivered, freezing everywhere except his right arm, which burned as though feverish. He tugged at the sleeve of his puffy coat, wincing at the barely visible words—the silvery shadow of them now shattered with angry red lines. They’d thickened during the trip, he noticed, the crimson color deepening. Cautiously, he touched one, hissing as pain shot through his arm from elbow to fingertips.

He laid his hand on the buzzer as the wind picked up.

“Someone please let me in before I pass out or freeze to death out here.”

The annoyed voice of one teenaged girl finally answered.

“Hello?”

“Yah. Let oppa in, hm?”

“Who? Wha—Taehyung-oppa?”

“You better not be expecting another oppa, Eonjin-ah.” He thumped the gate. “Let me in before I grow roots out here.”

He grinned at his little sister’s happy shriek.

The gate lock released, swinging open quietly at Taehyung’s push. He closed it behind him and headed for the front door, intercepted midway by his squealing sister.

“Oppa!” She barreled into him, legs and arms wrapping around him like a monkey, her long ponytail whipping him in the face. “Oppa, oppa, oppa! You didn’t tell us you were coming home.”

He didn’t fall over. Or scream. Quite the accomplishments, if anyone asked, because every place she touched ached like a fresh bruise. Every bit of skin that touched burned. Last he knew, hugs weren’t supposed to fucking hurt. First his misbehaving soul mark, now this. What the hell was he coming down with?

“Eonjinie.” He managed to hug her tight, despite the shooting pain. “I’ve missed you.”

“Hey.” She socked him in the shoulder as she moved back, taking his bare hand in hers and tugging him toward the house. “You are in so much trouble, mister.”

He made sure his arm wasn’t actually on fire, briefly wondering if his legs would give out, his vision going distinctly hazy at the edges.

“I just got here.” Oh, good. He could still make words. “How am I in trouble already?”

“Half of the district started calling Eomma this morning. You kissed someone’s soulmate?” She sounded like a proper scandalized ajumma. “Oppa, how could you?”

She didn’t have to say it like that. Like he’d personally offended her unfiltered dongsaeng sensibilities. Jeez.

“He was not bonded when I kissed him. For all anyone knows, I facilitated the love story of the decade.” Passing out on the walk to the house was gaining appeal by the step. When had the yard gotten so big? “And why do you even know about the kiss? Why does anyone know about it?”

“Not bonded?” She sucked in a breath. “O. M. G. You’re Kim Seokjin’s soulmate, aren’t you?”

“What? No, I am not.” He tugged her ponytail. “Seriously, though. Does the whole world know this guy?”

“You didn’t?” She snort-laughed.

“Not for being famous,” he muttered. “Because my hyungs tried to set us up for like a year.”

“I can see why.” Her implication made Tae gape, but she just shrugged. “What can I say? Two pretty boys kissed and it broke the internet.”

“Eonjin-ah.”

“Hey.” Eonjin grabbed his face.

He almost choked on a cry of protest, forgetting everything else. It hurt. Fuck, it hurt so much. He pulled free as Eonjin’s whole face scrunched with an expression somewhere between suspicion and worry.

“You look like shit.”

“Don’t let Eomma hear you talking like that.” Did he sound pained?

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing a decent sleep won’t fix.”

Eonjin slipped his backpack from his shoulder and resumed dragging him toward the door.

“Best hurry before Jeonggyu gets home, then. There’s no rest for the weary or the wicked when he’s around. Jury’s out on which one you are.” She hustled him to his old room tucked toward the back of the first floor. The familiarity of home didn’t soothe him like it usually did. “I’m going to head over to my English study group, so you should have the house to yourself for a few hours. I’ll let Eomma know you’re here and to let you rest.”

“Eonjinie, are you a little sister or a little mother?” he teased. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

She pushed him to sit on the bed and leaned in to lay a smacking kiss on his forehead. He wondered if she could see the shape of her lips scalded into his skin, barely holding back the urge to shove her away.

“Sleep. Honestly. You look terrible and Eomma will shit kittens if she sees you like this.”

“Language, Eonjin-ah.”

She giggled and waved an unrepentant goodbye.

The house settled into silence around him.

He stripped down to his boxer briefs, almost afraid to look at himself. He had to take a piss though, so he headed for the bathroom. The mirror revealed all, though Eonjin hadn’t seemed to see anything. There was a redness on his upper right arm from when he’d been shaken awake. His hands were blotched an angrier shade, traces of Eonjin’s fingers visible. His face looked like a prank application of sunscreen had left him with a hand-shaped burn on either cheek.

What was this? An allergic reaction to his sister? Not the least plausible idea.

Curious, he tugged a t-shirt on back in the bedroom and, faking a smile he didn’t feel, snapped a selca. He ignored the endless notifications and sent the pic to Bogum. Would his hyung see the marks?

Safe and sound |

| No. 1 hyung: Any ahjummas slap you around for kissing Mr. Worldwide Handsome?

Was Bogum actually referring to his reddened cheeks? Or just the current train wreck status of his life?

Do I look slapped? |

And what the fuck? Worldwide Handsome? |

Who calls him that? Who calls anyone that??? |

| No. 1 hyung: It’s definitely better than what they’re calling you.

Oh. Tae slumped on the side of the bed, feeling like the rug of the world had been pulled out from under him. He stared at Bogum’s reply. Declined the call that from him came a few minutes later.

| No. 1 hyung: Shit. Don’t leave me on read.

| No. 1 hyung: I’m sorry, Tae.

Taehyung turned off his phone and tunneled under the bedcovers, cold in places a warm home and warm bed couldn’t reach. He looked like he’d lost a fight and only he could see it? Had he done something so wrong to be cast as some sort of villain in all of this? He curled into a tight ball, half expecting his breath to be visible in the air.

★

One day in Daegu passed quietly enough for Taehyung to sleep straight through until morning. Hunger didn’t wake him, rather the ache in his arm did. Taehyung trudged to the bathroom, taking a couple pain relievers with a handful of water from the sink. The marks from Eonjin’s hands were thankfully faded. He grumbled hellos to his parents and siblings in passing, already shivering from his small amount of time out of bed. Waving off his mother’s calls for breakfast, he closed the bedroom door and crawled back into the body-warmed space beneath the thick blankets.

He checked his phone, not expecting anything interesting enough to convince him to stay awake. He wasn’t ready to deal with Bogum, but he saw the trending tags anyway. #TalentlessTae tore apart his music, his art, his photography, his clothes. Even his face. #MeTae riffed off of #MeToo. That second one gained traction after the bitch who’d kissed him that first New Year’s party told the internet she was another victim. There were plenty of counter posts, but people believed what they wanted to believe.

Tae believed he might throw up.

A new chat message from Hoseok—he does these a lot, just fyi—had him frowning, even as his fingertip pressed the link that followed.

“…didn’t even get to unpack before the New Year hit like the bullet train. So here I am now. Hotels look a lot alike, don’t they?”

Kim Seokjin.

Taehyung moaned softly at just the sight and sound of him, tired and beautifully disheveled, vlive broadcasting from Tokyo. How did just hearing him melt that cold pit deep inside Tae a little bit?

Obnoxious banging on the room door interrupted whatever Seokjin was about to say. He rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

“And that will be 2J. You guys ready for a Tokyo breakfast mukbang? Because I am starving. Airplane snacks are not food and dinner was something I never got around to yesterday.”

Taehyung watched the comments fly. Questions about the still MIA soulmate, about Tae himself, and about someone called Ahn Seoham. Those last comments were by far the most numerous and meanest, doing their best to tear Jin’s presence in Tokyo apart. Seemed Big Hit had a scandal they were working hard to downplay.

2J—Park Jimin and Jeon Jeongguk—invaded the room with bags of food as soon as Seokjin cracked the door. Taehyung felt like a voyeur, but couldn’t stop himself from watching. He smiled at the rookie idols he’d heard plenty about from Namjoon and Yoongi.

They all three looked too small, too far away.

“Hyung!” Jeongguk tackled Seokjin with a hug, lifting him off his feet. “Please tell me you’re our manager now?”

Jin let out a soft oof as Jeongguk squeezed the air out of him.

“Yah, muscle pig.” He pounded the younger man’s shoulder. “Jeonggukie, put me down.”

Jeongguk dropped him on the bed, and the pair climbed on either side of him, surrounding him in warm snuggles. Jimin rested his head on Seokjin’s shoulder.

The camera caught it all, and Taehyung almost drowned in envy. That cold inside him hardened once more and he huddled under the covers.

“Thank you for coming, hyung. We thought maybe—” Jimin broke off.

Big Hit would cut its losses? Just how big was this scandal? Aish, the industry needed to do better by their idols. This sort of bullshit was exactly why Tae only flirted with being a successful singer.

“Sorry we dragged you away from home so soon, hyung.” Jeongguk burrowed against Jin’s side, nose almost in Jin’s belly button. “We didn’t—we wouldn’t—”

“I know, I know,” Seokjin said with a soft sigh.

Tae searched up Ahn Seoham on his laptop, cringing at the video that popped up.

“Okay, that’s definitely worse than what I did.”

Taehyung hated himself for thinking Jin had just run off to Japan for shits and giggles. Obviously the pair needed a hyung they could trust.

“Thank you for coming, hyung,” Jimin said again, voice muffled by Jin’s hoodie.

“Aigoo. Of course, I came, Jiminie.” He hugged Jimin closer and Taehyung was not jealous of his friend. “Where else would I be, hm?”

With me, Tae’s traitorous heart whispered.

“Don’t worry, hyung will take care of you.”

Taehyung drifted as he watched them dig into breakfast, because no amount of sleep seemed to be enough sleep for him. Wishing he were the one curled up tight against Jin, he passed out, the soft murmur of voices—of Jin’s voice—easing his aching heart.

★

Two days in Daegu, and Taehyung wanted to get out of bed even less than the day before. A persistent ache beat through him, slowly pounding him to a lump in bed. The laptop sitting on his thighs radiated warmth that almost banished the chill in his body. He browsed the gossip, losing himself in the mounting interest in Kim Seokjin and his missing soulmate.

To Tae’s conflicted horror, his SoundCloud hits were rising in tandem with the number of people accusing him of using the Big Hit manager as some sort of springboard to fame. He’d never once announced his name on stage. Hell, he sang in the dark. And his SoundCloud was under the name CGV. He wasn’t exactly out there trying to make himself known. The music was just something he enjoyed.

His phone buzzed with messages from Hobi.

| Sunshine-hyung: where did you go, taetae?

| Sunshine-hyung: worried about you

| Sunshine-hyung: let us know you’re okay

| Sunshine-hyung: park bogum gets that we’re your friends, right?

His mom brought him tea before he could reply—if he even wanted to reply—checking his temperature, frowning when she didn’t find any obvious sign of illness.

“What is it, ahdul?” Her gentle fingers brushed the overlong waves of his hair back from his forehead. It hurt, but he didn’t complain. “Hm? What’s wrong with my boy? Is it your stomach? Aigoo, all that processed Seoul food. It’s good that you’re home. Eomma will feed you properly.”

She leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. Her nose crinkled as she drew back.

“After you shower. I love you, but have you even bathed in the new year?” She made a sour face. “You stink of alcohol and regret.”

Truer words…

He left the online world for the real one, too soon reminded of the emptiness gnawing away at him from the inside. Hunger seemed obvious. He hadn’t eaten properly in at least two days. Nothing could help the less obvious hole inside him. Whatever was happening with his soul mark was getting worse, people hated on him all over the internet, and he honestly felt like shit. The worst part of all was how much, how unreasonably much, he wanted nothing more than to see Kim Seokjin again.

If he left the flood of incoming messages from his hyungs on read, or didn’t read them at all, well… he didn’t know any words to make the situation better.

★

Three days in Daegu kicked Taehyung straight in the gut. The soulmate drama crossed the ocean and found Seokjin. Internet reactors around the globe went wild on the kiss video and soulmate speculations. Japan found all the drama romantic and intriguing, and they were falling rapidly under the endearing spell of 2J. Japan’s response fed back to Korea, and Taehyung watched as the language surrounding Big Hit and the scandals steadily changed. Taehyung stayed out of the fray, but his own fiercely loyal fans were still spreading his music, tipping the public response—if not in his favor, at least less against him.

He watched a new vlive from Tokyo. After seventy-two hours, Tae could safely say the only thing that even came close to helping him was hearing Seokjin’s voice.

“Vjin? That’s what they call you and the bartender? Sounds like some vegan thing.” Jimin giggled as Jin visibly cringed. Jimin and Jeongguk were cozied up with an iPad, thick as thieves, on one of the room’s two beds. “What’s with that face? You’ve heard that before, hyung?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

PD-nim called then to praise them for all their hard work, and Vjin was briefly forgotten.

★

Four days in Daegu took Taehyung to the medical clinic, because Eomma insisted. He’d dropped ten kilograms in a matter of days and struggled to even eat, constantly nauseated from an internal cocktail of anxiety and pain.

He didn’t tell his mom about the endless texts, tweets, comments, and other social media posts. No doubt, Eonjin kept the family aware of the drama. Bogum had sent him links to articles on Soompi and Koreaboo for fuck’s sake. Apparently, people cared about him kissing Kim Seokjin in English, too.

At the clinic, he was shown into a room, waiting only a few minutes before Dr. Min Namgoong settled at the desk, reviewing notes on the computer.

“You’re clearly undernourished, I don’t need bloodwork to see that. But I’m ordering labs anyway, just to eliminate some possible underlying causes. I’m more than a little concerned with your blood pressure, Taehyung-ssi.” Dr. Min reviewed the vitals the nurse had taken. “These numbers are—frankly, I don’t expect to see anything like this on someone your age with no preexisting heart conditions.”

Dr. Min studied Taehyung with knowing eyes.

“So. What haven’t you told your mother or the nurse?”

“A lot, actually.” Tae tipped his head to the ceiling.

“Will you tell me?”

“I don’t know if you’ll believe me.”

“I’m not blind. This—” Dr. Min waved a hand at him. “Is not the body of a healthy, drug-free male in his early twenties. So unless you lied through your teeth on your paperwork, there’s clearly something going on inside you.”

Dr. Min listened intently as Taehyung recounted—without naming names, in case the doc wasn’t up on the latest spilled tea—what had happened since meeting Kim Seokjin. He half expected the doctor to shrug and say he could hardly be expected to diagnose, let alone treat, a condition he couldn’t even see the symptoms of for himself. But the doctor took notes, asked questions, and absorbed every word Taehyung spoke.

“The difficulty with soul bond related illnesses is unfortunately obvious,” Dr. Min said when Tae finished. “It’s challenging to develop a proper understanding of what is going wrong when only one person can provide the details of their experience. And each such experience is highly subjective. Pain tolerances vary greatly, as do investments in the bond itself—which impacts both the immediate strength of the bond as well as the long-term viability of it. With no observable data, it’s a struggle to assist in cases like this. I think I know what’s happening here, but it’s quite rare, so I want to ask a few more questions, Taeyhyung-ssi.”

“What do you think is happening?”

“An incomplete soul bond.” Dr. Min pursed his lips in thought, tapping his pen against his knee.

“Incomplete? So—I said this person’s words and they, what?” People searched for their soulmates, they didn’t turn them away. “Decided I’m not their style? They rejected the bond?”

That hurt. Fuck, that hurt so much.

“Not necessarily rejected.” Dr. Min held up a hand, shaking his head. “There are any number of reasons why one person says the words and another doesn’t.”

And what if Tae was the only one “invested” in this bond? How did he undo that? How did he move on? His mind, his heart, refused to let go of Kim Seokjin. Even if holding on hurt so much he could barely function.

“Taehyung-ssi, what happened with that person?”

“They never said a word to me,” Tae said softly. “Never even tried.”

“The universe isn’t perfect,” Dr. Min said gently. “If it was, we’d all be soul-bonded and the world would be a much happier and safer place. Just because they didn’t say anything in the moment, doesn’t mean they didn’t want to.”

Cypher called looking for you. Asked if I knew your soul words.

Taehyung considered the way he’d rushed away after the kiss, hurrying back to work. And then the Big Hit group had left in a hurry—which Tae now understood was the beginning of the Ahn Seoham mess.

So… just maybe…

“What can I do?”

“Where is this person?”

“Japan.” Tae perked up. “I—I could call, right?”

“You can—and should—start a conversation, Taehyung-ssi.” Dr. Min frowned. “But the bond is completed in person. Theoretically there’s an acoustic resonance involved, and phones and computers change that slightly.”

“So that’s why the voice does help my symptoms, but it doesn’t make them go away altogether?”

“Exactly. It’s close, but not quite what your soul needs. And your body is rejecting everyone that isn’t your soulmate, causing all the pain and marks. I really wish we could see—” Dr. Min caught Tae’s arm as he staggered up from his chair. The doctor made a small sound of apology as the necessary touch brought tears to Taehyung’s eyes. “Convince them to come home. I’m—not sure how long your body can last like this.”

★

Five days in Daegu, and Taehyung couldn’t remember losing almost an entire day. His mother hovered, and he could see the worry in her eyes. She didn’t touch him now. No one did. Dr. Min warned against the intended comfort and care that only seemed to aggravate his deteriorating soul bond.

He stayed in his bedroom, stayed in bed, except for meals and bathroom necessities. His father came home with a shower chair, much to Taehyung’s twinned delight and shame. He hated this weakness, but sitting in the steamy spray lifted some of the foggy exhaustion from his brain. He had to lay on the bed to dress, tugging on cozy fleece pajamas as quickly as he could before burrowing under the covers. His mother had found a deal on an electric blanket in an obnoxious orange hue that nobody wanted, but Tae secretly loved. Cozied in its heat and bright color reminded him of basking in sunlight.

He opened his laptop to an early evening vlive from Osaka. His own songs featured on repeat, playing on Jeongguk’s phone. Seokjin looked almost as tired as Tae. But he smiled as Jin picked out a harmony he could sing along to, stubbornly ignoring the looks from Jimin and Jeongguk.

Tae still needed to call Yoongi and get Seokjin’s cell phone number. He doubted the lost time did him any favors. He had his phone in hand, watching Jin paying attention to the comments on the stream. Was he hoping for something? A sign of his soulmate? A message from the weird bartender? Yeah, probably not. His nerves jangled at the idea of calling Seokjin out of the blue. He certainly wasn’t in the same state of health as Tae. And he didn’t seem overly concerned about his missing soulmate.

Maybe—maybe an indirect approach would be better?

His fingers twitched on the keyboard.

A comment might work.

Tae couldn’t say anything too obvious without revealing himself to the audience, but maybe Jin would understand a coded message. Something relevant to their brief moment. He typed in the comments box.

winterbear: taking advantage of this live to say… happy new year, handsome

A few seconds later, Jin’s breath hitched and he dropped his phone. The live ended, abruptly cutting off Jimin and Jeongguk’s laughter. The loss of Seokjin’s voice clawed through Taehyung and he flopped back in the bed, staring dumbly at the ceiling.

He’d seen Tae’s words, right?

His phone rang before he could convince himself to man up and call Yoongi.

UNKNOWN CALLER

TOKYO, JAPAN

Hands shaking, he swiped to accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Taehyung-ssi?”

Oh, fuck. If only he could figure out a way to crawl inside his phone and get closer to that voice.

“Hello?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m—ah—Kim Seokjin.”

“I’m glad.”

“Hi, glad. Good to meet you.” Seokjin huffed at the terrible joke, the sound almost a laugh. Taehyung closed his eyes, his cheeks aching as he smiled for the first time in days.“I called Yoongi for your number. I’m sorry if that—if you don’t—”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

“I would have called him in another few minutes myself.”

“From the comment, I thought maybe—you wanted me to know it was you.”

“I did.” Tae sucked in a deep breath. “I understand I said your words.”

“And I didn’t say yours.”

“Yeah.”

“Guess I still haven’t.”

“The bond can’t form over the phone anyway. Some sort of psychic acoustics thing.”

“Well.”

“Rude, right?”

“Completely.” Seokjin laughed, an endearingly goofy, high-pitched sound Taehyung had grown ridiculously fond of over the last few days. “But that means my soulmate—could still be you?”

“Just have to see me in person to find out.”

Jin muttered something that might have been, I fucking hate my job right now.

“I—I’m really glad you called.” I think your voice might be the only thing keeping me going. “I never expected things would get so crazy over a kiss. I’m sorry about that.”

The silence on the other end told him Jimin and Jeongguk had been kicked out of the room. Or…Tae pulled the phone from his ear to be sure the call hadn’t dropped as the quiet stretched on.

“Are you still there, Seokjin-ssi?”

“Don’t apologize. Crazy or not… I’m glad you chose me.”

Tae whined softly, the words licking through him like liquid heat.

“Oh, I like that sound.” Jin’s voice softened to a purr. “It’s weird to say I miss you, right?”

Tae’s heart pounded, probably harder than was healthy given his current condition.

“I’ve missed you since the second I let you go,” he admitted softly. Jin groaned in response. “When are you coming home?”

“Two more days,” he said. “What’s winter bear?”

“Ask Namjoon-hyung.”

“I like your voice more, Taehyungie.”

The words made Taehyung shiver. The endearment almost made him cry.

“I like yours, too.” Might even need it.

Two more days, and he’d ask Seokjin to come to Daegu. Beg him, if necessary.

He could last two days.

★

Six days in Daegu, and Taehyung woke up feeling hungover. Or possibly still drunk. Both states required a certain consumption of alcohol greater than none, though. His knees trembled as he eased to his feet. He used the nightstand to support himself as he stood, his joints trembling as he struggled to stay upright, his right arm hanging limp at his side. He could barely move it without almost blacking out from the pain.

“Damn it all,” he groaned.

He made it across the bedroom through sheer, stubborn will, slumping against the wall as he opened the door. Every breath heaved through him until he sank to the floor. Everything spun too fast for him to keep up, so he squeezed his eyes shut against the waves of nausea the whirligig world induced.

“Eomma.” He swallowed back the rising burn of bile. “Appa.”

“Taehyungie?” His mother’s voice answered him with soft worry. He heard the patter of her footsteps like the kick of a bass drum. “Is everything o—”

Her gentle scolding cut off with a sharp gasp.

“Ahdul?”

He knew she was there by the warmth of her body crouching next to him, the scents of her perfume, soap, and that familiar something that was distinctly Eomma. “Baby? What’s happening?”

His head hit the floor with a thump, stomach finally giving up all control. He tried to make it to his hands and knees, barely able to get his head clear of the floor enough to throw up a pitiful mix of bile and the few sips of water he’d managed to consume.

“No, no, no. Oh, my god.” Eomma’s hands wrapped around his chest, keeping him from falling. He sobbed at the pain, even as she apologized. “I’m so sorry, ahdul. I know it hurts.”

Her tears joined his as she screamed for his father.

“Yeobo!”

★

Seven days in Daegu hulled him out, rendering him a shell of a human being.

“Call his friends,” Dr. Min urged, removing his stethoscope. He perched on the deep couch beside Taehyung, who’d been moved from the bedroom to allow his whole family to keep eyes on him. “His work. Anyone in Seoul who might be able to help. At this point, all I can do is make him comfortable.”

“How long does he have?” Eomma’s voice was thick with tears.

“Another day? Maybe two. His body is essentially consuming itself. Are you comfortable changing an IV? Fluids and nutrients might buy him a little more time.”

“We’ll get comfortable.” His father nodded firmly. He surveyed his family. “Whatever it takes, right?”

Above the blankets, Eonjinie huddled along Tae’s back, burying her sobs against his spine, the thick covers separating them dulling the pain of contact. He felt her nod, just as his mother and brother did.

“If—if there’s any chance—” Dr. Min’s eyes begged Taehyung. “You’ve been in contact, right?”

“He’s home soon.” The words burned and clawed his throat. “Leaving Tokyo today.”

“Ahdul.” Appa knelt by his head, hand hovering as though to comb his hair from his eyes. “Are you sure it’s him?”

No one bothered to ask which him.

“I don’t know anyone else it can be.” Tears stung his eyes as another wave of pain rolled through him. Eonjinie inched closer, careful not to touch his skin directly. “I just don’t know.”

“We’ll get him here, Taehyungie.”

His thanks died unspoken, his voice shifting to a thin keening as pain ignited in his wrist. Eonjin practically flew from the couch. She hid behind their father, wide eyes locked on him.

“No, no, no. Please don’t change.” He stared in anger as the words ignored him, so obscured by the red fissures he couldn’t even read the new ones. He wanted to howl at the universe, at fate, at the extremely flawed grand design. “Fine. I don’t need the words to know. I just need him.”

Chapter Text

김

SEOKJIN

Five days in Japan had Jin practically climbing the walls, head pounding, wrist throbbing, popping every OTC painkiller he could get his hands on. Where was he even? Chiba? No, that was so thirty-six hours ago. This was…Osaka. He was in his third hotel in as many days and counting down the hours until the flight home. They had a day off, thank the fucking stars, before heading to Saitama tomorrow. Then it was back to Tokyo for a final meet and greet before their flight home. Tonight was free except for a live with Jimin and Jeongguk.

He seized the opportunity to sleep the day away, waking as the sun set. His stomach rumbled from neglect. One quick shower and a call to room service later, he decided to check in with Namjoon before the broadcast.

“Yah, Joonie.” He didn’t give the man a chance to say hello, the nonstop bass line of his headache erasing silly social constructs like patience and courtesy. “It’s been five days. Where’s my T—my soulmate?”

Holy fuck. Had he really almost just asked, Where’s my Taehyung? He bit down on his bottom lip.

“Good to hear you, too, hyung.” Joon’s voice had a hollow echo to it that told Jin he was on speaker. “Sadly, we don’t have an answer for you. No one at the company has stepped forward. PD-nim didn’t fuck around, either. He pulled everyone from the party into a meeting and straight up asked.”

“Fuck.” Jin dragged his free hand through his hair, tugging at the dark strands. “What if—what if they’re shy or something? Maybe that’s not something they wanted to announce in front of half the company?”

“He didn’t ask them to come forward in the meeting,” Yoongi jumped in. “Told them to speak to HR, strictest confidence, all that jazz.”

“And nothing?” Did that upset him? Or… did it not? “I see.”

“You don’t sound too broken up about it.”

Because he was just as torn between his supposed soulmate and the beautiful, sexy, hot as fuck Kim Taehyung as the social media world. How was he expected to focus on true love when the internet gave him the ability to relive the best kiss of his life in HD whenever the mood struck? That the mood struck a lot didn’t help.

While Vante’s detractors made him out to be some kind of gold-digger, the internet also gave him a peek at Kim Taehyung, artist and entrepreneur, who was making a name for himself all on his own. And Seokjin liked the man he saw behind the social mask even more than the sexy stranger who’d boldly kissed him.

Could maybe even fall in love with that man.

“Honestly, I’ve felt like shit since I got here.” It wasn’t a lie. He mentally tallied the last few days of discomfort, decided it was barely even an evasion. “But it’s weird. I’m not sick sick? It’s more like—fuck, I have no idea how to describe it.”

Namjoon and Yoongi talked back and forth, too low for him to make out. Finally, Yoongi said, “Like maybe it isn’t yours?”

“Huh?” What was that supposed to mean? “Who else’s would it be?”

“Your soulmate, hyung.” Namjoon’s words hit Jin in the gut like a brick. “The bond connects people emotionally and physically, not just spiritually.”

“He means you can experience at least a little of what your soulmate experiences,” Yoongi said. “It’s great for communication. Makes for some next level sex, too.”

“Did not need to know that, Yoongichi.”

“You say that now.”

“But it’s absolute hell when your mate is sick,” Namjoon finished.

“Or hungover.”

“Will you never let me live that down?” Joon groaned. “It was a charity event for ocean life, hyung.”

“With an alcohol buffet.”

“Exactly. The entire goal was getting people shitfaced and too stupid not to donate.”

“You definitely nailed their criteria.”

“And that’s why you didn’t let me take a checkbook or any credit cards.”

“You’d have adopted some endangered yet strangely adorable species of crab if I had.” Oh, Yoongi definitely had Namjoon’s number. “You made me puke, Joonie. Three. Times. While you were literally in another country.”

“Which is not half so many times as I—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Seokjin’s head spun. One part headache and now two parts Namjoon and Yoongi. “Shut up, both of you. Are you suggesting I feel like shit because my soulmate is sick? What kind of new age bullshit is this?”

“Just a possibility, hyung.” Namjoon hummed, a thoughtful sort of sound that Jin shuddered to interpret. “I mean—I’ve definitely learned to take hyung at his word when he says some food disagrees with—”

Yoongi let out an inhuman growl, cutting Namjoon off before he revealed whatever secondhand digestive horrors he’d experienced.

“Kim Namjoon, you are a dead man!”

“Ohh-kay,” Seokjin said, neither hearing him. It sounded a bit like Yoongi was chasing Namjoon, and Yoongi had the approximate activity level of a rock, so— “Wow, he’s pissed. Um. Yeah. Good chat.”

Jin ended the call with one last, half-hearted shout of, “Find my soulmate, idiots!” and curled up on the bed. He mentally patted himself on the back for getting through the entire conversation without once—fully—bringing up Kim Taehyung.

“An incomplete slip of the tongue does not count. No matter what you say, Dr. Fried—Freed—Frodo?”

He buried a frustrated shout against his pillow.

In lust with a beautiful bartender who could be filling stadiums instead of drinks, and soul-bonded to some unknown he just couldn’t invest in. The longer he was away from Seoul, the easier it was to not even worry about the whole soulmate thing. Of course, he asked after them. But clearly, his life would go on without them.

Taehyung, on the other hand…

“I just want to talk to Taehyung. Before I commit to a life of not Taehyung. Is that too much to ask for?”

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin and Jeongguk showed up for the live broadcast. Jin let them do most of the work, lounging in the camera’s periphery and picking at his room service meal. Was he nauseated, or was this unsettled feeling coming from someone else?

Jeongguk cued up music on his phone, and Seokjin only half-sighed at the first bars of Taehyung’s rough croon. The youngest observed his reaction with a knowing smirk. Jin narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. Not while they were live. After, he mouthed. Jimin’s gaze dropped to something apparently fascinating in his lap, the tips of his ears pinking up. Jeongguk tossed his head back and laughed, his face scrunched up and adorable.

The comments kicked up as viewers recognized the songs, and he couldn’t help skimming them. He’d done the same with every live they’d done since he arrived. And just the same as every live before this, none of the comments jumped out to announce I’m your soulmate! Or, preferably, Kim Taehyung is here. Seriously. What the fuck was even wrong with him that, five days later, he still wanted more to reconnect with the bartender than his soulmate?

There’s more to the bond than the words.

“Why did you even plant that idea in my head?” He muttered under his breath as he watched the comments, beyond drained and content to let Hobi shoulder the blame for Jin’s wishful thinking. “Damn you, Jung Hoseok.”

winterbear: taking advantage of this live to say… happy new year, handsome

Jin’s breath caught in his throat as he read. Then read again. He dropped his phone and scrambled for the camera, ending the live as Jimin and Jeongguk cracked up.

“What the fuck?” he breathed.

Don’t hate me for taking advantage, hm?

“You okay, hyung?” Jeongguk picked up his phone, dusting it off. “Did you have a seizure over there?”

It was him. Taehyung was reaching out.

“I—I need to make a call. It’s important.” The duo seemed to pick up on Seokjin’s urgency and grabbed up their stuff. He all but shoved them out the door. “I’m sorry. Hyung will make it up to you.”

He called Yoongi as soon as he had the room door closed, the do not disturb sign swinging from the handle.

“I don’t want any shit about this,” he said as soon as Yoongi picked up. “I just need a phone number, Yoongi-yah.”

“You want Taehyung’s number?”

“Please.”

“For true love or a booty call?”

 “Oh, for fu—” Seokjin’s jaw clenched. “Respect your hyung just once, you supercilious cenobite.”

A moment’s silence dragged out. Then Yoongi sighed.

“Yeah, okay. Just this once, hyung.”

★

Six days in Japan… and he only sort of wanted to die. The headaches persisted, adding perpetual nausea to his torment. It wasn’t quite enough to make him puke, but he wished he would just to get rid of the discomfort. In his hotel room in Saitama, completely wrung out from the 2020 Whirlwind Apology Tour running side by side with 2J’s actual tour, he popped his fourth round of too many painkillers to be healthy for the day.

A checkup with the tour physician revealed exactly jack shit. Jin wasn’t sick. Not physically, at least.

He asked the doctor about the soulmate sharing crap Joonie had spouted, only to get a very matter of fact response. Yes. Soulmates could experience symptoms of each other’s emotions and physical sensations. From the highs of sexual pleasure to the absolute lows of childbirth, grievous injury, even death. The upside, the doctor said, was soulmates heightened the highs and lessened the lows for each other.

You know… when they were together.

Jin left the doctor with a growing sense of shame for the soulmate he had less interest in finding by the moment. Especially after last night.

He’d barely slept after chatting with Taehyung until the wee hours of the morning. Just talking with Tae had settled his head and stomach. Jin had wanted to video chat, but Tae had spewed some cute bullshit about bedhead and pajamas. Which only got him thinking about Taehyung waking up in his bed, wearing his clothes.

“Stop fixating on the wrong fucking person, asshole.” He pounded his hands against his forehead.

Was he the wrong person, though?

That question led him to further wondering if his persistent interest in Taehyung wasn’t some sort of sign. Could a soul bond be interrupted? Paused? Was the universe just waiting for Seokjin to get his dumb ass back to Seoul and say something to Taehyung so everything could get back to normal?

Because that would be great. Fantastic, even.

But then…if Taehyung was his soulmate, and his soulmate was sick, that meant Taehyung was sick.

Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

Every last fucking thought brought him right back to Taehyung.

He needed emotional support and called Yoongi, of all people. His rational mind feared Yoongi on a regular basis, but his heart—his heart apparently saw something completely different. He pressed call on Yoongi’s contact without hesitation.

“Hang on a sec, hyung. We were at the studio until—fuck, not even two hours ago. No wonder Joonie didn’t wake up.” Yoongi’s sleepy voice pitched low, and Jin could hear him moving quietly. About thirty seconds passed before Yoongi said, “I’ve been waiting for your call.”

“We just talked yesterday. Twice, even.”

“Maybe hoping is a better word.”

“Why?”

“Things are happening here.”

“Things.”

“Taehyung things.”

Seokjin’s brain noted the ominous tone to Yoongi’s voice, concern overriding all else.

“What is it? Is he okay?”

“You don’t know? You talked to him, right?”

“Yeah. Most of the night, actually. But he never mentioned anything wrong.”

“Did he tell you he left Seoul, hyung?”

“No.” Jin rubbed at the muted words on his wrist. They would never fade entirely now, not unless his soulmate died. Something about them looked off, though. “Where did he go?”

“Home, would be my guess.”

“He’s a grown man.” Who left Seoul just like Jin had. “He can go where he wants.”

He never had to let Jin or anyone else know. Adults could do that. Soulmates could do that. And they were at least one of those two things.

But Jin could call him. Make sure he was okay. Good hyungs did that.

“Park Bogum’s being pretty tightlipped, but says Tae’s been to the medical clinic twice.” Yoongi’s worry filled the speaker, rapidly becoming Jin’s own. “Come home, Jin-hyung. Come home and make absolutely certain Taehyung is not the one.”

“Yoongi—”

“I see it in your vids, hyung. The viewers see it. You look like shit. You feel like shit, too, right? And my friend—who, by the way, you’re low-key obsessed with and also said your fucking words—keeps going to the doctor.”

“That’s correlation, Yoongi, not causation.” Jin’s heart pounded in spite of reason. His brain kept rejecting what his heart kept insisting. Like either of them knew anything. His mouth was just stuck in the middle, spewing stupidity.

“Come home and make sure.” Yoongi growled out something unintelligible. “Damn you, Kim Seokjin. Please.”

“Yoongi, I—I can’t.” He wanted to. “There’s still a day left for me here.”

“I promise, if you chose this tour over him, and he somehow is your soulmate—I will never forgive you if you could have helped him.”

The call ended with an abrupt beep. Seokjin stared at nothing, Yoongi’s parting shot a smoking hole in all his adult logic.

“I won’t forgive me, either.”

★

Seven days in Japan. It took seven days in Japan to break him. Something was wrong with his soul mark, with his soulmate, and he needed to get back to Korea.

Ahn Seoham was finally on a plane home. The boy would be hidden away while the legal team sorted through the mounting evidence that he’d been set up by his manager. Maybe there was some light at the end of the tunnel for the singer.

The end of this trip, however, was not coming fast enough.

He was so tired he could barely keep awake, and he’d been forced to splint his left wrist yesterday. Even the slightest movement carved through him like molten gravel. Carefully, he removed the splint to shower before heading to the airport.

The brace slipped from his numb fingers as he stared at his words under the glaring bathroom lights. The color had faded, sure. Distance did that. He’d been exiled to Japan, while his Ta—his soulmate was back in Seoul. Seokjin huddled on the bathroom floor, staring dumbly at his aching arm.

The oil slick iridescence the words gained after being spoken was dulled. Completely gone in some places. Like a coat of polish that was chipping away. The shimmer of the soul-bond—it was—

Where had Taehyung gone? He had to see him in person. Had to know for sure.

He stumbled from the bathroom, picking up his cell phone. He called Taehyung—tired Taehyung with his husky voice and bedhead excuse—without even thinking, but the call went straight to an auto response. Twice.

“Come on, pick up.” And a third time just to be sure. “Please pick up.”

“The person you are trying to reach is not available…”

He called the only one of the trio of friends heavily invested in the outcome of this who might not immediately scream I told you so into the phone.

“Jin-hyung.” Namjoon’s deep voice came through like a balm to his battered soul. “Shouldn’t you be packing for the airport?”

“Joonie?” Jin’s voice sounded off. Like it was somewhere far removed from his body.

“Hyung? You sound weird. Hyung, what’s wrong?”

“Is that Jin-hyung?” Yoongi hollered in the background. “He’s coming home, right? Tell him to hurry the fuck up. I’ll pay for an earlier flight.”

“Joon—I don’t—this isn’t—this doesn’t happen, does it?” He rapped his knuckles against his skull.

Damn it, Kim Seokjin. Make fucking sense. But he could only hear Yoongi’s words echoing in his head. You feel like shit, and my friend keeps going to the doctor. That was correlation, not causation. They couldn’t be connected. He hadn’t said anything to Kim Taehyung, the exact opposite of how finding your soulmate worked.

“What is it, hyung?” More voices sounded somewhere in the distance. With Namjoon, maybe. Or had someone found him? “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

“My words, Joonie.” The world felt a little fuzzy around the edges. Muffled. “Something’s wrong with my words.”

“Wrong, how?” Was Namjoon underwater? Maybe Jin was underwater.

“They’re—” What? Dull? Decaying? “They’re dying, Joon. I think my words are dying.”

I think my soulmate is dying.

“Please, Joonie. I need to find Taehyung.”

★

He didn’t remember getting home. The trip passed in a blur. He distantly remembered worried voices, hushed arguments, and finally, Yoongi’s big hand shaking him awake in the backseat of an SUV, Jimin and Jeongguk a bracing weight on either side of him.

“Fuck, hyung. You look even worse in person.” Yoongi tapped his cheek. “Can you walk?”

“Dunno,” Jin slurred. He grabbed his stomach with a groan. “Might be able to finally throw up, though.”

The trio dragged him upright and carted him up to his suite in the dorms. Yoongi shoved an empty duffle toward Jimin and Jeongguk. “He needs clothes. Toiletries. The basics for a couple days. Will you please get that together for him?”

“On it, seonbaenim.” Jeongguk practically saluted Yoongi. Jimin took the closet for clean clothes, while Jeongguk went through Jin’s Japan luggage for his toiletries.

“Where we goin’?” Seokjin leaned toward the bed, forcing one foot in front of the other.

“Daegu.” Yoongi dug through Jin’s closet.

“The fuck is in Daegu?” The fuck was in Daegu?

“My family, for one, you rude ass prima donna.”

Oops. Ouch. Okay. He accepted Yoongi’s irritation.

“And for two?”

“Kim Taehyung.” A flying tee shirt slapped Jin in the face, a pair of jeans following hot behind. Jeongguk scurried to grab them up and pack them, quickly moving to intercept the rest of the clothes from Jimin before Yoongi could. “My dying friend. Remember him? You stuck your tongue down his throat then fucked off to Japan for a week.”

Dying. Like Jin’s soul words. Dying was bad. Dying hurt. So fucking much.

“There was mutual tongue action. Also I’m an adult with a job, a combination which comes with a lot less choice than advertised.” But Seokjin could get his head out of his own misery long enough to comfort his friend who was understandably freaking the fuck out. “Yoongichi, stop throwing clothes and insults at me. Of course I remember him, jackass. You said Taehyung went to the doctor. Now he’s dying?”

“Just like your soul mark.” Yoongi stopped talking long enough for dread to dig deep into Jin. For Yoongi’s expression to shift like clouds, offering a glimpse of the devastation simmering beneath the surface. “I know you think he isn’t yours, but there’s a theory. And you have to admit, you’re weirdly hung up on him. So please. Work with me here. I have to try. We have to try.”

I know you think he isn’t yours.

“No, I don’t.”

“Hyung, please.” Yoongi’s voice broke on the second word.

“Wait. Wait, that came out wrong.” So wrong. His brain was mush. “I mean—no, I don’t necessarily think he’s not mine. I’m—I’m open to theories.” Seokjin finally made it to the bed. “So, um, what’s the theory?”

“An incomplete soul bond.” Yoongi’s hands trembled as he hurriedly packed the items Jimin and Jeongguk brought him.

“That’s a thing?” Jimin squeaked.

The idols paused in their packing, hanging on Yoongi’s words.

“Yeah. One side says the words, the other doesn’t.”

Jin nodded in silent agreement. He and Tae had broached the idea during their conversation.

“Sometimes it’s on purpose,” Yoongi said. “Sometimes it’s—”

“A chaotic New Year’s Eve party!” Jeongguk said, bouncing with sudden excitement.

“That’s right.” Yoongi’s hand carded through his hair. “The way you two reacted to each other—I admit Hobi wasn’t the only one surprised.”

“I want it to be him, Yoongi.” Seokjin squeezed his eyes shut against the sting of tears. “You know that, right? As much as it doesn’t make any sense to obsess over a guy I met for like three whole minutes—I saw him and it was like—like being caught in a star’s gravity.”

Jimin made a soft noise and came to Jin, crawling up on the bed to hug across his back.

“I couldn’t avoid crashing into him.” He worked to breathe through the dull ache wearing through his whole body. “I didn’t want to.”

“Aish, hyung.” Yoongi’s expression finally softened.

“What should I have said?” Jin tried to focus on the words. “In a perfect meet cute world, what should I have said to him?”

“No idea.” Yoongi huffed. “Little shit never told anyone his words, not even Bogum, and they’ve been friends for five, six years.”

“But this incomplete bond thing—do we know if that’s real and not just—” Hope. Stupid, baseless hope.

“Tae’s doctor made the tentative diagnosis a couple days ago. Recommended he come back to Seoul, contact the person he thought it might be.” Yoongi punctuated each pause by stuffing a few more days of Jin’s life in a bag. “But he was already too sick to travel. Knew you weren’t in country anyway.”

“He did contact me.” Jin leaned into Jimin, seeking comfort even as he wanted to squirm at the sense of wrongness. Jimin wasn’t the person he needed. Wasn’t his person. “There was a comment during our live that I thought had to be him. That’s when I called you for his number.”

“That’s why you kicked us out?” Jimin checked his shoulder. “So what’s wrong with Taehyung?”

“Headaches. Chills. Can’t keep any food down. Can’t sleep. Bogum says he’s lost a lot of weight.” Yoongi took a deep breath. “And.”

“And?”

“Bogum called me not even ten minutes after you called us about your dying soul words and passed out cold.”

“I passed out?”

“We had to get management to open your room.” Jimin hugged him tighter.

“Namjoon cut through a lot of red tape to get you on a flight instead of in a hospital.” Yoongi zipped up the bag. “Taehyung’s father and doctor helped. Between the three of them, they got a medical clearance to get you on the next plane back to Seoul.”

“Why did Bogum call?”

The more Yoongi talked, the more Jin believed. There were too many parallels for coincidence. Seven days of misery. Pain. Nausea. Restless sleep. Fucking awful and exhausting, but never enough to really take Jin down. Not until—until whatever happened to make Taehyung’s eomma pick up the phone and call his closest friend. Because the illness was never really Jin’s, but an echo of what Taehyung was going through.

“Tae’s in an out of consciousness. He’s—he’s already been resuscitated once.” Yoongi chewed on his lower lip. “The doctor doesn’t think he has long, hyung.”

“We need to go. Now.” Seokjin shoved his own pain down and stood, dislodging Jimin who just rolled to his feet and bounced back to Jeongguk. “We’re taking the bullet train, right?”

★

Jin felt just a tiny bit stronger and healthier with each kilometer closed between him and Daegu. He prayed Taehyung experienced the same boost. Conversation between Yoongi and Jin subsided into a nervous hush as GPS guided them to Taehyung. Twilight and a cold front carrying snow settled over the residential neighborhood. Yoongi braked in front of a metal door painted in pastel wildflowers.

“Pretty,” Jin murmured.

“That’ll be Taehyungie’s work.” Yoongi put the car in park, disengaging the doors’ safety locks. “I’ll let you out here and go find a parking spot.”

“Yeah, okay.” Could one feel numb and nervous? “Let me get the bags.”

Two minutes later, Jin stood at the gate, convincing his sweaty-palmed hand to ring the house.

“Can I help you?” a woman asked.

“I’m looking for Kim Taehyung.” More than anything, Jin wanted to hear Taehyung’s voice. Wanted to know all this worry knotting his guts was over nothing. That the news of Taehyung’s condition had been greatly exaggerated.

Instead, he heard the tail end of a heavy sigh as the voice said, “Can’t you people be decent just once?”

“I’m sorry?”

He blinked at the clear hostility in her tone, tearing his gaze away from the intercom as he heard a door open nearby. A middle-aged woman swung the gate open. She had fire in her eyes and a baseball bat in her hand.

“Get the hell out of here,” she hissed. “I’m sick of you vultures. My son is not gossip fodder, so—”

“W-wait. I-I’m a friend.” He stammered in his rush to speak before the woman—Taehyung’s mother—either slammed the gate in his face or decided to rearrange his face with that bat. “I swear.”

The door of the house stood open behind her, the interior dark and quiet. So very quiet. So unspeakably sad. He could feel it from here, the heavy weight of grief. Taehyung’s eomma glanced from him to Yoongi, on his way from parking the car a little ways down the street, eyes narrowed.

“You’re friends?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I wasn’t sure anyone would make it before—ah—that is, he—he hasn’t been out of bed for a couple days, but—he’s been a bit better tonight. I’ll see if he’s up for visitors.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Your names?”

“Kim Seokjin.” He bowed and gestured behind him. “Min Yoongi.”

“Kim Seok—” She choked on his name, her eyes going wide. “Is that—” She looked back toward the house. “Are you why he's doing better?” She started babbling at high speed. “Oh, my god. I’m so sorry. You look—I didn’t recognize. You’re here. You’re really here. Oh, shit. Aish, I’m sorry. I-I’ll get him. Please wait. Please. Please don’t leave. Yeobo! Taehyungie!”

She didn’t invite them in, just ran from the gate and into the house.

“Was that a good reception?” Seokjin swallowed hard.

“Didn’t tell you to take a hike.”

“Or take that bat to me.” He nodded to the wooden slugger she’d dropped in the grass. “She thought I was a reporter or something. Called me a vulture. Said Taehyung isn’t gossip fodder.”

“Shit.” Yoongi bounced on his feet, unusually fidgety. “Let’s go on up to the house before anyone watching realizes just who’s shown up at Taehyungie’s house.”

They closed the gate behind them, but not before Jin spotted the camera lens pointed at him from across the street. The photographer wasn’t even trying to hide.

“Ah, sonuvabitch. Too late, Yoongi-yah. Call Joonie and warn him.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Better if BigHit can get in front of this.”

“Fanfuckingtastic.” Yoongi’s laugh contained zero actual humor. They reached the door as Namjoon answered the phone. Yoongi hung back a few steps to talk. “Hey, babe. Yeah, we made it fine—the paparazzi are here—yep, already snapped a pic of Jin-hyung—”

Jin tuned out of the conversation, focused on the silent house. Five minutes turned into ten before he heard any further signs of life from within. The woman’s voice distantly, followed by a closer, deeper one Jin felt certain he would never forget as long as he lived. Just hearing Taehyung soothed something deep and restless in him. Then the voice took shape, an emaciated shadow emerging from the depths of the house.

Seokjin’s breath backed up in his lungs.

The man making his careful way to the door was little more than skin and bones. His t-shirt and pajama pants hung off him like a child playing dress-up, his beautiful lavender hair tousled and damp from a recent wash. An IV port was taped along the inside of his right arm.

“Yoongi-yah,” Jin said softly.

“One sec, Joonie. What’s up, hyu—” Yoongi’s question cut off with a startled yip, his phone clattering to the ground as he caught sight of Taehyung.

“Seokjin-ssi? Yoongi-hyung? You’re here?” Taehyung’s raspy voice sounded rusted now with disuse. He winced at the glare of the porch light, lifting a hand to shield his face. A fresh bruise was purpling his left cheek, a butterfly bandage over a small cut near his eye. He rubbed his eyes. “Or am I—am I dreaming again?”

Yoongi let out a sound—something raw and distressed that almost, almost captured the absolute terror flooding Jin’s soul. In the past week Seokjin had seen a handful of pictures of Taehyung, mostly posts from Singularity, and he vividly remembered the exuberant boy who’d kissed him with unfiltered passion well enough to recognize him even in this wraithlike state. How could Taehyung be so transformed in a week? Like his body was collapsing in on itself. Consuming itself.

More than that, Jin couldn’t take his eyes from the red handprints marring Taehyung’s pale skin. He reached out, but Taehyung shied away. Like someone expecting pain.

“Who hurt you?” Jin needed to kill anyone who’d put their hands on his Taehyung like this. He felt that pull towards Tae, still caught in his gravity but so much weaker now, a change Jin felt in the core of his being.

The gravity of a dying star.

“Oh, god. You sound so—real.” Taehyung shivered, swallowing hard. He closed his eyes, but the tears spilling down his cheeks shimmered in the low light. “But it isn’t real. It’s never real. Please. I can’t—I can’t wake up again. I don’t want to wake up anymore.”

The bottom fell out of Seokjin’s world.

“No, no. You’re awake, love. You aren’t dreaming, I promise,” Jin swore. “Aish, my beautiful Taehyungie. What’s happened to you?”

“What?” Taehyung flinched away from Seokjin’s fingers before they could touch his arm.

Jin realized he’d officially gone past the simple, if selfish, want for Taehyung to be his soulmate. He’d moved to full on belief. Taehyung had to be his soulmate. Nothing else made sense. Because just being close to Taehyung was centering him. Grounding him. Energizing him.

“All these marks on you.” Jin’s gaze jumped up to meet Taehyung’s. “Like someone burned you with their hands.”

“You can’t see them.” Taehyung staggered back a pair of steps, but Jin swore that was hope flickering in the younger man’s eyes. “You—can’t.”

Seokjin lurched forward into the doorway, words bursting from him.

“Of course, I can.” Jin stopped just shy of touching him, so afraid of snuffing what little life Tae still possessed. He looked to Yoongi for support. “You see them, don’t you?”

“See what?” Yoongi shook his head. “I mean, I see the bruise and the cut. No burns, though.”

“There are handprints all over his arms.”

“N-no one else sees them,” Tae said. “Only—only—”

A harsh sob carried from somewhere in the house. Tae turned toward it, feet shuffling.

“Taehyung-ssi. Please don’t run.”

Another spark lit Taehyung’s dull gaze, locked on Jin once more.

“What did you say?” He shivered, his mother rushing to wrap a fuzzy blanket around his shoulders. He hissed as her fingers brushed his cheek, and Jin’s jaw dropped as a fresh red welt bloomed there. His mother winced, tears streaking her face, and apologized softly before withdrawing to give them space to talk.

“Please…don’t run?” Jin shot a nervous look at Yoongi, who swallowed hard in response. He’d given no thought at all to what he would actually say when he faced the bartender. Those weren’t his first words anyway. Why did those matter and nothing else he had said? If after all this—

Taehyung turned his right arm up and Jin’s throat tightened at the sight. Starting at his wrist, malignant red lines carved up his arm.

“Oh, fuck,” Jin breathed. “What is this?”

The bartender touched his soul mark. The words—whatever they might have been—were shattered by the encroaching red, too cracked through to make out.

“You see this, too?” Only soulmates could see each other’s words. Hopelessly hopeful. That was how Taehyung sounded. As though he wanted more than anything to believe, but it might destroy him to be let down.

“I see them.” The words weren’t miraculously readable, but now they bore an unmistakable shimmer. Jin turned his wrist up. A shimmer that matched the rapidly repairing one on his own mark. “I can’t read them but I do see them.”

“It said take advantage anytime up until—well, I guess until you left that night.”

“Fuck.” Seokjin breathed the word, remembered those exact words waiting to be spoken, right on the tip of his tongue. “Seriously?”

“They changed to please don’t run while I was closing up the bar. Then changed again yesterday. I’ve no idea what they say now.”

“They fucking ask who hurt you,” Jin muttered under his breath.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Tears shimmered in Tae’s eyes, a certainty of rejection swimming in their depths. “Even if—I’m not what you were hoping for in the soulmate department. If maybe that’s why you didn’t say anything…”

“I’ve been tearing myself apart this whole week, Taehyung-ssi.” Jin cupped his hand beneath Tae’s, not quite touching. “Couldn’t stop thinking about this beautiful bartender I met at New Year’s.”

“Even though we weren’t soulmates.”

“Even though we thought we weren’t soulmates.” A sense of relief flowed through him as Taehyung shifted closer, relief echoed in Tae’s soft sigh. “Because we are, aren’t we? You feel it, don’t you?”

There’s more to the bond than the words.

“I meant to say exactly what you should have heard. But see, there was this kiss, and I—”

He gave in to need and stroked his thumb over Tae’s broken words, frowning at the dry, cracked skin. The younger man made a sound, and Jin’s head shot up in time to see fat tears spill down Taehyung’s ashen cheeks.

“Oh, no. Don’t—you can’t—” Taehyung’s eomma looked ready to rip Jin’s arm off. “You can’t touch him.”

“It doesn’t hurt, Eomma.”

“Ahdul?” The hope in that one word almost crushed Jin.

“I promise.” Taehyung’s steady gaze didn’t waver. “All the handprints—they aren’t from anyone trying to hurt me, Seokjin-ssi. My soul only wanted the right touch.”

Jin slid his hand up Taehyung’s arm, both of them sucking in air as the red marks faded in the wake of Jin’s touch.

“That night,” Jin said. “It was bad timing and one idiot baby idol making very bad choices—I had to leave when all I wanted to do was find you again.”

Tae hummed, inched his way closer still, saturating Jin’s senses with his clean scent.

“I didn’t even realize my words had been spoken until after we left. Do you know how many people say Happy New Year?”

Tae’s hand shook as he turned his hand over, skimmed his trembling fingers over Jin’s soul words.

“Happy New Year, handsome. Can’t forget that part.”

“I think maybe only twenty-five people or so said that to me.”

Seokjin wanted to wrap the younger man up in his arms. He could sense the other’s weariness and aching body as the bond between them came trembling to life, so desperately fragile.

“The handsome part, too?” Tae offered him a weak smile. “Aish, your ego must be massive.”

Yoongi coughed into the sleeve of his coat, a poorly concealed bark of laughter. Tae snorted in response and almost fell over, which was all the reason Jin needed to cuddle the man close. From the corner of his eye, he watched Taehyung’s parents holding tight to each other.

“Lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”

Tae was stiff for a long moment, then seemed to go boneless in Jin’s arms. Long arms wrapped around his waist and Tae nuzzled against Jin’s shoulder with a soft sigh.

“Sorry I’m such a mess.”

“I’m sorry I left you with an incomplete soul bond.”

Tae nodded.

“I wanted it to be you—that’s why I reached out to you.” Taehyung’s eyes widened as Jin squatted enough to get an arm behind his knees. “Wait—what are you—”

“You need to sit down and rest.”

He scooped the younger man up in his arms, almost startled by how light was.

“You’re skin and bones.” Unbearably light. Hollowed out. Empty. “You should have told me to get on a plane two days ago.”

“I believe I did,” Yoongi snorted.

“You.” Jin swung around on Yoongi. “Said something yesterday.”

“Yesterday was still better than today.”

“Holy shit, just please don’t drop me.” Tae’s arms clung tight around Jin’s neck as he moved.

“Taehyung-ah. Language.”

“Sorry, Eomma,” he squeaked.

“Be careful,” she warned Jin. Her fingers fluttered near her cheek, her eyes on the bruising on Tae’s face.

“I stumbled getting out of bed to come see you.” Taehyung’s fingers clutched at Jin’s shirt. “Before you go thinking anyone beat me.”

“He’s—his condition is very delicate, so don’t you dare drop him.”

“I won’t, Eomeonim, I promise.” Jin determined to fill Taehyung back up, to patch his battered soul, as he sat on the couch with Tae in his lap.

“I’ll put on some tea.” Taehyung’s mother sniffled, her smile just visible as she turned and headed into the kitchen. “And—and some food. In case.”

“In case?” Jin asked.

“I haven’t eaten since—” Taehyung frowned. “I dunno. Not really since New Year’s.”

“Ah.” Taehyung’s appa spared a worried glance for the kitchen. “I’ll make sure your mother prepares something light.”

“You look like you haven’t eaten in months.” Jin kissed Taehyung’s temple. “Is this okay? Really okay? I’m not hurting you, right?”

“It’s good.” Tae nodded, his hair brushing Jin’s cheek. “So good.”

“I called your doctor on my way here. Your father gave him permission to speak to me.” Jin nuzzled Taehyung’s cheek, smiling at Tae’s grumbling little purr of response.

“What about?”

“How to help you.” He brushed his fingers along Taehyung’s cheek, over the mark his eomma had made, watching in satisfaction as it faded. The bruise remained.

“Skinship?” Tae’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Please tell me it involves skinship. Because this is better than any drug.”

“As much as you can tolerate.” Jin shifted his hold, slipping his hands beneath the younger’s shirt to caress smooth, chilled skin. “Skin-to-skin is best, he said.”

Taehyung hissed in surprise, hunching to bury a soft moan against Jin’s chest.

“You’re so cold.” Worry twisted him up inside, tangled with the need to take care of Taehyung. “Lean in. We need to get you warm.”

Yoongi tugged a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over them.

“Extra warmth. And so you can do that skin-to-skin thing with a bit of privacy,” he said for their ears only. “No need to scar Taehyungie’s family.”

He curled up right next to them, leaning on Jin’s shoulder, offering more warmth, more love, to both of them. Taehyung cautiously took the hand Yoongi offered, relaxing when the touch didn’t burn, easing into Seokjin breath by breath. Jin hummed contentedly as Taehyung rested his head in the crook of Jin’s neck.

“Much better.” The closeness allowed Jin to better wrap his arms around Taehyung. He leaned back to press a kiss to Tae’s mop of wavy hair, soaking in the fresh scent of shampoo clinging to the damp strands. “My Taehyungie.”

The softly uttered affection earned him a husky whine from the younger man.

“I tried to contact you on New Year’s Day,” Tae said. “It seemed like a Really Bad Idea, with you being soul-bonded to someone and me… not. Did it anyway, though.”

Jin could hear the capitalization, and he almost laughed.

“But I was already gone?”

“Yeah. And people were waiting for me at Singularity.” Tae yawned, nose pressed to the base of Jin’s throat, his words little more than warm vibrations over Jin’s skin. “So I came home.”

Not that coming to Daegu had been enough, Jin thought, considering the photographer lying in wait outside.

“Things are crazy here, too.”

“Yeah, and then my health went south so fast, and the doc said traveling home was another Really Bad Idea. And I got scared. What if you weren’t the one? What if you were and just didn’t want me?”

Jin realized Taehyung was apologizing.

“None of this is anyone’s fault, Tae. Especially not yours.”

Taehyung cuddled, and Jin felt that gnawing emptiness in him quietly fill, a space he now recognized had been waiting for Tae.

“I do want you,” Jin murmured. “In case you were still wondering.”

“I—” Tae lifted his head, fixed his awed gaze on Seokjin. He ran his hand along Jin’s cheek. “I want you too, Seokjin-ssi.”

“I have my hands up your shirt,” Jin teased. “You should definitely call me hyung.”

“You say that like I don’t have you exactly where I want you.” Taehyung settled deeper against him with a smile that reminded Jin very much of Bold Tae. “Jin-hyung.”

Aish, he was in so much trouble.

Chapter Text

김

TAEHYUNG

Recovery days passed in as much of a blur as sick days, the most notable difference found in Kim Seokjin’s constant and comforting presence. While Taehyung slept with blessedly fewer and fewer bouts of pain and nausea, Jin and Big Hit calmly dealt with announcing that Tae was in fact Jin’s soulmate and everyone could calm the fuck down. The lurking paparazzi drifted to a more polite distance, now that there was no tea to spill.

There were still pictures, of course—Taehyung went to see Dr. Min daily for checkups and to monitor his healing—but now the fascination centered around Tae’s recuperation and incomplete bonds, forwarding research on a problem that had been long suspected but largely undocumented.

Taehyung himself mostly just wanted to sleep, and Jin quickly adapted to the waves of exhaustion, pain, and illness driving Tae’s hours.

Schedules were for weaker men than Taehyung and Seokjin. Or… stronger ones. Taehyung was a little fuzzy on those specifics and only partly because it was the middle of the night. Jin’s tenth in Daegu. All he knew for sure was the moment Jin sensed he might even be thinking about being hungry—anytime, day or night—Tae found himself hauled off to the kitchen.

Leading to his current situation.

Wherein he leaned against the counter and admired the view.

It was two AM—Tae’s family long asleep—and Seokjin was cooking. More importantly, or perhaps most importantly, Jin was cooking shirtless. With his mouthwatering shoulders almost completely hiding the stove from view.

“What’s this dish called again? Car—car-bo—?”

“Carbonara.”

“Right. That.” Which translated roughly to some Italian dish. Definitely something never prepared in the tiny Kim family kitchen. “Sounds yummy.”

“Do you even have any idea what’s in it?”

“Nope.” He ended the word with a cute little pop. “But I have ten days of historical data to support that anything you cook is yummy.”

Jin turned from the stove, caging Tae against the counter with all his bare-chested glory, a long arm gripping the counter on either side. Taehyung’s head swam as his senses filled with Jin. His heat, his scent, the brush of his lips against Tae’s, the taste of his mouth as they took the kiss deep. Tae skimmed his hands up Jin’s sides, relishing the feel of warm, soft Jin.

“Stop distracting me,” Jin said, voice husky when they came up for air.

“I’m just standing here.”

“I know.” Jin kissed the tip of his nose and returned to the stove. “Stop it.”

“Hyung,” he whined. “What, I’m just supposed to stop existing?”

Not the most wisely chosen retort, he realized as his words got him properly pinned this time. Jin’s arms banded around him hard, his mouth seizing Tae’s in a punishing kiss. One hand found its way into Taehyung’s hair and tugged hard until Tae let his head drop back, baring his throat.

“Don’t you dare.” Jin’s voice wavered between demand and plea. “Don’t you fucking dare, Taehyung-ah.”

He tugged the collar of Tae’s oversized tee aside, teeth clamping onto the join of neck and shoulder. Taehyung writhed, pleasure and pain warring in him as Jin worked up a dark mark. Like Jin was claiming him.

“Baby.” Jin nuzzled his throat. “I want you. I was only teasing. You know that, right?”

“I’m sorry, Jin-hyung,” he murmured, holding his soulmate close. “I didn’t mean it. Didn’t mean to hurt you, hyungie. I was teasing, too.”

It had only been ten days, but Taehyung found a life without Jin unbearable to imagine.

“I want you, baby. Want you so much.” Jin kept breathing the words against Tae’s skin like a mantra. “Want you forever, I promise.”

Taehyung knew Seokjin struggled with misplaced guilt over Tae’s health. Ten days wasn’t enough to erase the damage wrought in five, and Jin was forced to see the lingering effects in Tae’s emaciated, exhausted body day-by-day and hour-by-hour.

“Hyungie.” He stroked Jin’s hair, lightly scratched his scalp.

“Don’t leave me.”

He hugged Seokjin tighter.

“When we go back to Seoul…” Taehyung had discovered that making plans for their future helped soothe the elder. “I want to watch you dance around half-naked in my kitchen. It’s state-of-the-art and one hundred percent wasted on me.”

Tears dampened Tae’s throat, Jin’s watery chuckle further proof of his shaky emotional state.

“You can cook fully naked, too. I won’t judge.”

“Why do you have a state-of-the-art kitchen when you don’t cook?”

“Maybe my soul knew I’d need it sooner than later.” Tae shivered, affected by the idea that whatever connected them to one another was maybe in play long before they met. “I knew I let that realtor talk me into a dream kitchen for a reason. Sure as hell wasn’t any of my dreams.”

“Taehyungie.”

“But I’m happy to make your dreams come true. Even if I do it unintentionally.”

Jin drew back, staring Tae down with reddened eyes and flushed cheeks. Whatever he found in Tae’s expression must have satisfied him, because he moved back to the stove with a nod.

Jin let the pasta boil and prepped the sauce, pausing now and then to feed Tae bits of creamy Gouda cheese and fresh baked crostini topped with butter and parmesan between sips of the Pinot Grigio in his left hand and the Gavi di Gavi in his right.

“Thank you for coming for me, hyung,” Tae said softly.

“You say that a lot, you know.”

“I mean it a lot.”

Tae abruptly found his arms full of Jin.

“Taehyung-ah.” He swiped a finger along Tae’s lower lip. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you already?”

“Absolutely. Without apology.”

“I see.” Jin’s sweet smile stole Taehyung’s breath. “Okay, I’ll allow it. But only if you fall in love back.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Taehyung grinned, internally squirming at the way Jin’s expression went so very soft as they stared into each other’s eyes. There was a compelling intimacy in these moments Taehyung had never experienced before. “I think I can do that.”

Fuck, yeah, he could fall in love with Kim Seokjin. Maybe he already had.

This might all be the better part of two glasses of wine taking over Tae’s train of thought, but he wasn’t complaining any more than he was judging. He just continued his extra thorough taste testing of a pair of white wines, a glass in each hand.

“I think I like this Gavi one better.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm.” Tae smacked his lips and took another sip, finally understanding the fuss about wine and food as the flavors jumbled in his mouth like Wonder Twin powers activating to make something new and exciting. “It’s a bit—smoother? Heavier? I don’t know wine words.”

He swayed happily around another mouthful of the Gavi.

“You’re pretty cute when you’re tipsy.” Jin smiled fondly at him. Brushed a finger along his no doubt red cheek. “Let me taste.”

Taehyung held out the two glasses, but Jin just snuck between his outstretched arms to sample straight from Taehyung’s mouth. Tae relaxed into the kiss, mouth swooping up into a dopey smile as his soulmate pulled back with a wicked grin.

“Definitely a winner,” Jin said softly. “Might taste better on you, though. Ever let someone do body shots off you?”

“Oh—ah—no. No. Maybe that’s a surprise? Owning a bar and all?” Taehyung’s cheeks burned from more than the wine now. “Contrary to public opinion, I actually prefer sexy times with significant others, and there haven’t been so many of those. None since the New Year’s kiss shit started, actually.”

“You’ve been in a three year dry spell?” Jin turned back to the stove with a muttered that’s fucking criminal and plated up a heaping pile of pasta.

“I’d let you do one.”

“I should hope so.” Jin tossed a smirk over his shoulder. “If your hard limits bar was that low, we might have problems.”

Tae might never stop blushing. He might spontaneously combust, even.

“This smells amazing, hyung.”

Seokjin set the plate on the counter next to Tae. His hands nipped Tae’s waist as he leaned in to brush his lips over Tae’s.

“Cream, bacon, pasta,” Jin whispered. “It smells like weight gain.”

Tae chuckled. “I love it when you talk dirty to me, hyungie.”

“Do you?”

“Are you fishing for my kinks?”

“Shamelessly.”

“Then, yes. I do.”

Jin’s gaze spoke of entirely non-food related hungers, pinning Tae in place as surely as any hold. Tae shivered as Jin’s hands cupped his elbows, sliding up his forearms to wrap around his wrists. He drew Tae’s arms out from his sides and stepped right up, until their chests met. He dipped his chin to bring his lips against Tae’s ear.

“Does that mean you want to know I’ve been fantasizing about having you in my lap, cockwarming me while I feed you?”

“Oh.” Okay. From body shots to dirty talk right on up to cockwarming. “Fuck.”

“Nothing so strenuous baby, I promise.” Jin’s hands guided Tae to safely setting the wineglasses down. Then he was boxing Tae in, trapping him against the counter. “You aren’t ready for that.”

Taehyung’s dick twitched. He might be ready. He was willing to get naked and find out.

“Just holding me deep inside you. You keep me warm, and I keep you full.”

“Hyung.” Tae’s hips bucked of their own volition, his breaths coming in uneven pants, Jin’s words igniting a fire inside.

“I really want to keep you full, baby.” Jin’s heavy thigh wedged between his own, pressing up against Tae’s semi. Semi on the way to painfully hard. “So full you just can’t take any more.”

Tae groaned at the delicious pressure against his cock, the sound swallowed as Jin’s ravenous mouth captured his, tongue pushing in deep. He whimpered, jerking in Jin’s hold as the elder nearly stilled, tongue just lazily filling Tae’s mouth. Seokjin’s desire thrummed through their bond, and Tae thrilled at the looming dominance barely held in check. Jin wanted to take. Wanted to claim.

And Tae would absolutely let him.

Once he earned it.

The elder laughed softly as he drew back, watching Tae through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Is that a spark of rebellion I sense?” Seokjin didn’t sound even the tiniest bit unhappy about that idea. “You planning to put up a fight, baby?”

“Everyone appreciates the things they have to work for more, right?” Tae’s voice came out husky and on the wrong side of desperate.

Jin lifted him up on the counter, hands gripping around his thighs. He dragged Tae right back to the edge, legs spread around Jin’s waist.

“Hyung?”

Jin reached to his right, picking up a fork and twirling it through the pasta.

“Open wide, baby.” He lifted the fork. “You’re gonna need your strength.”

“Yah. I’m not actually a baby.”

“You’re my baby, though. Very different context, I promise. But I still take care of you.” The fork tapped Tae’s lips. “Don’t make me do airplane zoomies.”

“I will kick you’re a—ahhh. Fuck.” Taehyung moaned around the first bite. At least fifty percent owing to the heavenly food shoved in his mouth. At least. Probably. Maybe.

“Good, baby?”

“So good, hyung.” Tae closed his eyes, attention torn between the rich flavors and the constant, teasing pressure against his groin, another helpless moan ripped from him as Jin reached between them to lay his hand against Tae’s dick.

“Stars, listen to you. Look at you.” Jin’s tongue swiped a bit of sauce from the corner of Tae’s mouth, igniting a secondary—or was this tertiary? What came after tertiary? He was losing track—eruption of pleasure within Tae. “You’re a feast for the senses, Taehyungie. Do you have any idea, baby? How badly I want to spread you out and eat you up?”

Taehyung felt his hold on the world slipping, felt himself easing under the spell Jin wove with his voice, his touch.

“I wanna watch you give yourself over to me.” Jin surged up, the very obvious ridge of his erection dragging along Tae’s aching cock. “Forget everything except how to beg me for more.”

Tae’s breath caught on a hiccup as Jin verbally edged him. The need and heat kept rising and falling, each string of words lifting him up higher before letting him ease back down.

“Eat more, baby,” Jin whispered. “You aren’t ready to fight me yet.”

Tae opened his mouth obediently for another bite of pasta.

“Good boy.”

A cleared throat behind Jin had them both freezing. Tae peeked over Jin’s mountainous shoulders, just making out a sleepy Yoongi in an oversized hoodie and plaid pajama pants. Plate in hand, he chewed contentedly while watching them.

We’re doomed.

“Damn, Jin-hyung, this pasta is really good.”

“Min Yoongi.” Jin whirled around. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“I was working on a song and smelled the food.” He dug a fork straight into the pot. “Realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.”

“How fucking long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” Yoongi’s dry chuckle made Tae regret his life choices. All of them. “Really just going for it in the Kim family kitchen, huh?”

Yep, totally doomed.

Jin groaned, his head thunking against Tae’s chest.

“When can we go back to Seoul?”

“I’m heading back tomorrow. Today. Thank fuck, either way. You two are throwing off enough pheromones that Joonie called to ask me why I’m so horny.” Yoongi took his food and headed out of the kitchen with an evil grin. “Carry on…recuperating.”

★

“Would it upset you if I said I’d never thought much about meeting my soulmate?” Taehyung asked the question hours later in the winter morning gloom of his bedroom, Jin’s warmth wrapped securely around him. He turned his wrist up, the shimmering black of his words now easily read, thumb skimming over them. Who hurt you?

What a story they had to tell.

“Really?” Jin’s long fingers carded through Tae’s hair, a level of bliss Taehyung was rapidly becoming addicted to. “I heard you were one of Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s biggest supporters when they met.”

“Well, yeah. I said I didn’t think about meeting mine, not that I’m a joyless, soulless asshole.” Taehyung shrugged his free shoulder as Jin chuckled. “I just didn’t worry about when or even if my soulmate would come along.”

“Who wouldn’t dream of meeting me?” Seokjin pinched his waist. “Hm? Are you lying to me already, Taehyung-ah?”

Tae yelped and struggled in his soulmate’s arms, his shouts of miserable laughter muffled against Jin’s chest.

“Why wouldn’t you want to meet your soulmate, baby?” Jin’s tone rode a fine line between hurt and curiosity.

“Seriously. Not that I didn’t want to, hyung,” Tae assured him. “But… I was willing to be okay if it never happened.”

“And are you—disappointed?”

Taehyung heard the uncertainty like a discordant note in their bond, shuddering at the sensation. He thumped Seokjin’s chest for that, levering up on one elbow to glare at his ridiculous mate.

“Hyung. Are you fishing?” He narrowed his gaze. “Or have you just not noticed the Taehyung-shaped koala hanging all over you the last few days?”

Taehyung’s family had always mocked him for being clingy, especially in his sleep, but Seokjin never seemed to mind. He took the prescription of as much skinship as Tae could handle very seriously.

“Why then?”

“You know my friend, Park Bogum.”

“Indirectly.”

“Well, I’m one of the few people who knew Bogum before.” Tae gave the confession to Seokjin’s neck, unwilling to look him in the eye. “Before his soulmate died.”

“Taehyungie.” Jin cuddled him closer, kissing his forehead. “I had no idea.”

“He’s grateful for the time he had with her, but—he’s different now. I thought maybe if I never met mine, I could always be there for him.” Tears stung Taehyung’s eyes. “Not that he would begrudge me meeting my soulmate.”

“There’s still love without the words, you know.” Tae closed his eyes, Jin’s voice a husky rumble through his broad chest. “They’re just a guide, baby, not a promise.”

“I know that.” Taehyung’s own parents weren’t soul-bonded. Eomma’s soulmate had died before they ever met, and Appa never had words. They loved each other and the life and family they’d made just fine without. “I really do know that.”

He still felt just a tiny bit guilty, even after telling Bogum the news and getting nothing but excited shouts in response.

“I honestly didn’t either. Think about meeting my soulmate, that is.” Jin’s subdued voice warmed Tae’s neck. “Even after I knew I had met mine, I was more frustrated than worried. I didn’t choose Japan over soulmate. And I definitely didn’t choose Japan over you. Had I known you were one and the same, and understood what could come—if I’d known an incomplete bond could go like this—when Yoongi told me you were ill—fuck. I can’t make a complete sentence again.”

Seokjin’s arms tightened around him, tethered Taehyung. To this mortal world. To that undeniable connection thrumming between them.

“You turn me into a blithering idiot, Kim Taehyung.”

Their first night together, Jin had talked about how freaked out he’d been to learn that his phantom illness in Japan might in fact be an actual illness his unknown soulmate was experiencing.

“Thank you for reaching out to me,” Jin murmured. He nosed against Taehyung’s hair, kissed his temple.

“Thank you for ignoring everything that seemed so obvious and reaching out back.” Tae turned his head enough to press an awkward kiss to Jin’s chin, basking in the immediate buzzy warmth through their bond.

“Are you sure Big Hit will be okay with you staying in Daegu for a bit?”

“I don’t care either way.” Seokjin’s lips nibbled the hinge of Taehyung’s jaw. “But yes, I’m sure. Bang PD has apologized roughly two hundred thirty-seven times in six phone calls. Your doctor is also bold as fuck, you know.”

“I rather like my doctor.”

“He’s impressive as hell.”

“Not many people could take this situation and turn into an opportunity to educate the entire world.”

“Namjoon tells me there’s an official proposal for some sort of PSA in the works, starring the Big Hit idols.”

“Would be nice if people didn’t have to go through this,” Tae said.

“I only wish hugs, kisses, and profound apologies could heal as quickly as the lack of them hurt you.” Jin nuzzled his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.”

Jin jerked back and Tae immediately shivered at the rush of cold along his back. The warmth returned almost as quickly, with a rush of softly murmured apologies.

“Explain, please.”

Tae chuckled at Jin’s tart tone.

“I swear—I don’t have a death wish or anything.” He sighed happily as Jin relaxed against him. “But, I enjoyed that brief chance to talk to you, to get to know you just a little bit, before we were sure about the bond. I got an opportunity to see the man behind the bond, so to speak. And to know that, bond or no, I liked you.”

They’d spent almost two weeks now just like this, the only notable difference by their now eleventh morning waking up being in how much space they let come between them in their sleep. Out of bed, they’d progressed from absolutely no personal space to not quite protesting over necessities like bathroom trips, numb limb adjustments, and such.

Most of the time, Taehyung loved it. Most of the time.

“I am weak, yes, hyung. But…” Taehyung blew his fringe out of his face with an irritated humph. “I am not invalided. I can actually wipe my own ass.”

“I’m just saying—I can help. I will help. With anything, baby.”

“You get that I haven’t eaten in the best part of a week, right? This—is a normal gastrointestinal reaction to going abruptly from starvation to not.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. My stomach hurts too, Tae.”

Taehyung didn’t whine because his soulmate had sympathy intestinal cramps. He… Did. Not.

“Because you are my one-in-eight-billion-and-change soulmate. I get that. And I’m super lucky. Get that, too.” Tae pointed an imperious finger toward the bathroom door. “Now get out and let me take a shit in peace.”

Seokjin frowned.

“The longer I hold this in, the worse we both feel.”

“Fuck,” Jin huffed. “Fine.”

His soulmate scowled, but gave him the privacy he asked for in this, at least.

Thank the stars, Taehyung didn’t embarrass easily. Soul bonds were clearly the universal champions of oversharing and didn’t leave much room for such fragile things as ego or pride. They didn’t discriminate from the good and bad, and anything one experienced the other got a front-row seat to secondhand bliss or misery. It was no wonder they didn’t all last, when bond mates were laid bare for one another by their connection.

“You’re going to make me do something disgusting like coo, aren’t you?”

“Doves coo, hyung. Maybe pigeons. Resist the temptation, or face being compared to the rats of the sky.”

“Disrespectful brat.” Jin bit off the word. Literally. With his teeth nipping Taehyung’s earlobe. The voice in his ear shifted to something throaty and dark, a tone meant for moonlit rooms, satin sheets, bruising kisses, and greedy hands. “Brats get punished you know.”

Taehyung shivered, earning a dark chuckle from his soulmate.

“Promise?” he breathed.

“Fuck, yeah, I do.”

“Good.”

“Teasing each other is both awesome and fucking cruel.” Jin’s hold on him clenched, and even though it ached, Taehyung relished that dull shot of pain. “But I’d take it as a personal favor if our bond could help you get better just half as fast as the lack of it tore you down.”

“Same, hyung.” Tae wriggled deeper into Jin’s hold with a heavy sigh. “I still feel like a used convenience store chopstick. After it’s been dropped on the ground and stepped on a few times.”

“That’s gross,” Jin said. “But, it will get better, baby.”

“I know, hyung.” Tae patted the arms around him. “It’s been getting better since you decided to come for me.”

“Huh.” Jin lifted one hand to comb through Taehyung’s hair, weakening Tae’s skeleton to the consistency of silken tofu. “Weird to think some mystical bond of stardust and happenstance somehow knew I was coming back to Korea for you.”

“For your soulmate.”

“For you, Taehyung.” Another gentle brush through his hair and Taehyung practically purred. “Like you said. I ignored everything that made sense and focused on the beautiful bartender taking up residence in my mind and heart. No matter what made sense, I had to get back to him.”

“Aish, hyung.” Jin turned him into a mess of butterflies and blushes. “Stop.”

“I can’t. The stars have spoken. You’re mine to tease and torture now, sweetness.” Jin did stop, though, pulling Tae in tight and dropping a kiss on his nose. He touched the freckle on the tip with a gentle finger. “Have I mentioned how adorable this spot is? I’m completely enamored with this.” Poke. “Very.” Poke. “Spot.”

Heat rushed through Tae, half embarrassment, half amusement.

“Hyung.” Tae did not whine. He didn’t. “It’s just a—”

“Beauty mark?” Jin’s lips pressed the words against another mark on Tae’s cheek. “You’re so right, baby.”

“Seokjin-hyung.”

“Mm, it’s wrong to think it’s sexy when you scold me like that, isn’t it?”

“You’re—” The best. The worst? Ridiculous. Impossible? Mine. “Incorrigible.”

“It’s too early for big words,” Jin teased. “Sing ‘Winter Bear’ for me again, and I’ll stop.”

Jin had convinced Namjoon to send him Tae’s demo and he was obsessed with it. Especially hearing it live and in person.

“That’s extortion.”

“Mm.” Jin just kissed the tiny scar on Tae’s cheek.

“You gonna tell me my chicken pox scar is irresistible, too?” Tae drew back far enough to give eyebrow attitude, but Jin just shrugged.

“I don’t make the rules, Taehyungie.” He kissed another mole. “I just worship at the altar.”

“You’re shameless, hyung.”

Taehyung caught his breath as Seokjin rolled to his back, dragging Tae to lay on top of him. His right hand tunneled into Tae’s bedhead hair and gripped, holding him steady. Jin’s lips pressed to his ear.

“Hurry up and get better so I can show you exactly how shameless, baby.”

Tae groaned, the helpless sound pressed to Seokjin’s throat. With a heavy sigh, Jin relaxed back into the bed, the hand not in Tae’s hair hooked around his waist to keep him in place.

“It’s not right how much I want you, Taehyungie. No. Allow me to rephrase. It’s right. It’s so right it’s honestly terrifying. I just—I want you now.” The soft confession made Tae shiver. “In every way you’ll let me have you.”

“That’s a pretty long list, hyung, I can’t lie.” Tae kissed Seokjin’s throat.

“You’re trying to make this harder for me, aren’t you?” Jin huffed. Bucked his hips up, just enough. Tae whimpered as the distinctive ridge of Jin’s hardening cock pressed against his own. “My kinky baby.”

“I dunno, hyungie.” Tae gasped as Jin’s hand slid down from his waist to grip his butt, fingers dipping between his cheeks. “Pretty sure sex involves a whole lot of skinship. Like, all the skinship. Doctor’s orders, right?”

“You do look much less like a beautiful corpse today than you did three days ago.” Jin’s plush lips locked on Tae’s neck. He hissed as the scrape of teeth and suction promised to leave a mark to make his parents blush. “Only slightly starved now. Doc says we can go home this weekend, right?”

“Yeah.” Tae gasped as Seokjin’s hand skimmed beneath the waist of his boxers to stroke Tae’s length. “Oh, god. Hyung.”

“Just following doctor’s orders, baby.”

★

Jin held him every night they spent in Daegu. Held him through any and every hour of the day he could get away with as well. Herded him into the window seat on the train back to Seoul and held him away from the accidental touches, which still left marks on Tae’s skin.

Tae held him back, and each day they woke up together restored him a bit more. It took far longer than a week to get him back to full health, with Tae becoming a regular sight at the Big Hit building as Jin was reluctant to let his soulmate out of his reach for long.

They’d been back in Seoul for almost a month now, and Tae could barely contain his excitement. Everyone was coming to his apartment for dinner. He spazzed and leaped off the kitchen counter as the doorbell rang, nearly tackling Jin—hands full with two trays of lasagna for the oven—in his rush.

“Yah!” Jin glared. “Taehyung-ah, do not make me beat your ass.”

“Hurry up, babe!” The shout carried through the apartment as Taehyung hurried to answer the door. “Just—just put it in already!”

He yanked the door wide, grinning hugely at the group gathered on the other side. Namjoon swallowed nervously. Jimin buried a giggle against Jeongguk’s shoulder.

“Is this kitchen porn, part two?” Yoongi gave Tae a head-to-toe look and smirked. “You look a bit overdressed to be making such demands, Taehyungie.”

A frailer man might’ve blushed, but Taehyung was almost back to his pre-New Year’s weight. And he knew his boxy grin promised just the right amount of potential chaos when Namjoon muttered a heartfelt oh shit.

“Oh, do I?” Taehyung glanced down at his colorful ensemble, considered the words Yoongi had twisted into a downright dirty context. His smile turned down the wattage to something just this side of evil. He toyed with the buttons of his floral silk shirt, popping the first two as he called out to Jin. “Jinnie-hyung, is this a naked dinner party?”

Something clattered on the stove.

“Noooo!” Jin’s voice rivaled Tae’s for volume, rapid footsteps approaching. He wrapped himself around Taehyung like a human cloak. “Clothes on, Kim Taehyung.”

He could feel Seokjin’s glare over his shoulder as he stared down their guests.

“Which one of you idiot heathens put nudity in this beautiful brain, hm?” Jin’s hand scruffed through Tae’s hair and gripped his neck. Tae absolutely did not moan in response. Not louder than Jin and possibly a dog-eared Jimin could hear anyway. The idol clearly bit down on his laughter. “His naked form is not meant for mortal eyes like yours.”

“Totally Yoongi-hyung’s fault,” Namjoon stage whispered. “He thinks Taehyung is very pretty.”

“Shut the fuck up, Namjoon.” Yoongi blushed bright red as Tae grinned at him. “You think he’s pretty, too.”

“I’m neither blind nor dead.”

“Hear, hear,” Jimin said, earning a giggle from Jeongguk.

“Wonderful.” Seokjin drew Tae in tighter against him. “Everyone thinks you’re beautiful. I have to poison the dinner now to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Tae whispered against Jin’s ear, enjoying his hyung’s playful possessiveness. “Or keep me all to yourself?”

“Same difference.” Jin shrugged. “I won’t survive this life if everyone flirts with you.”

“We’ll flirt with you, too, Jin-hyung,” Jeongguk said. “Especially Jiminie.”

“Jeongguk-ah! You’re such a traitor.” But Jimin smiled as Gguk laid a smacking kiss against his cheek.

“But where’s Hoseokie?” Taehyung counted the assembly, coming up one short.

“He doesn’t want to seventh-wheel with three couples.” Yoongi frowned. “Once he realized 2J here were an item, he more or less hasn’t hung out with us.”

Jimin and Jeongguk cringed at being called out.

“Yah, it’s not the babies’ fault. Ridiculous flirtations aside, we’re having dinner, not an orgy,” Jin huffed. He reached over Tae to ruffle Jimin’s hair. “He never hangs out with us anymore.”

“He feels left out. No matter where he looks in our group, he’s the only one alone.” That made Tae’s heart ache. He wanted all of his beautiful friends to love and be loved. And deep down, he felt more… settled. Complete. Happy, when all of them were together.

“We’ll have to work on that,” Namjoon said.

“He once staged an intervention when I spent too long in our apartment studio.” Yoongi scratched his jaw.

“Anyone willingly avoiding my cooking needs an intervention. Now.” Jin ushered everyone inside. “No more lurking in the doorway. We have food and booze to consume.”

★

Three hours later, everyone had gone, leaving them blissfully alone.

Taehyung sprawled on the couch, wondering if he’d overestimated his ability to cope with social interaction. His every nerve ending seemed to be aching and overworked.

“How are you, baby?” Jin’s voice drifted over his neck, warm and soft. He scooped Taehyung up in his arms and carried him to the master bedroom and stars, he’d never felt anything as wonderful as his soulmate’s touch. “Tired out?”

“Mm, a bit.” As Jin set him down on the bed, Tae unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. Any not Seokjin touch still irritated his skin, so his torso was littered with memories of their friends—their Seoul family—imprinted in faint shades of pink and red. “Mostly sore.”

“Aigoo,” Jin huffed. His hands traveled along Tae’s arms, over his chest and back, easing away the irritation. “Our friends are too handsy. I need to remind them whose soulmate you are.”

“As though anyone is forgetting.” Thankfully, the reaction was lessening. Dr. Min didn’t expect it to last much longer. Vestigial crisis responses before his soul finally accepted the emergency was over. “You practically live here.”

“Your apartment is admittedly an upgrade from the dorms. After all, you are here.” Jin closed in on him. It had been an interesting moment when Jin learned about Taehyung’s net worth. Between the club, his art, and other business interests, Tae could afford a very nice lifestyle for at least two. “And, as promised, your kitchen is to die for.”

“No dying allowed, please.” Taehyung held up his hands for a timeout. “That’s a party foul, sir. I demand cuddles as forfeit.”

“My sweet baby.” Those words, in that tone—Tae shivered. Given the opportunity—any opportunity—Jin babied him. Cuddled him. Spooned him. Never (seriously) complained when he woke up in the morning, sweaty and wrapped up in Taehyung. “You’re gonna hold me all night, right?”

“I’m not very good at letting you go.”

“You better not be.” Jin climbed on the bed and manhandled Taehyung into straddling his lap. He dragged his hands down Tae’s spine, branching off to curl around his hips.

“You know…” Tae gasped out a breath as Jin’s lips traced a path across his shoulders. “Maybe I’m not as tired as I thought.”

Seokjin’s touch revived him like nothing else.

“Oh?” There was the tiniest curl of hope at the end of that question. The barest clench of those fingers at his hips. “Really?”

“Have I mentioned lately how well you take care of me, hyung?” Taehyung leaned into Jin’s broad chest, sighing happily as Seokjin’s arms locked around his waist. “Because you do. You really do. But…”

“But?”

“Maybe we can take care of each other tonight?”

Taehyung loved all the wordless ways Jin’s touch and lips talked to him. There was the sting of short nails scraping across his hips. The hiss of breath against his neck. The soft nip of teeth on his shoulder. The possessive clench of the arms around him.

“Every second I’m with you, Taehyung—I just—I knew you were special that night. How did I ever doubt it was you?” Jin asked softly. “How did I ever leave you?”

“Neither lasted, hyung,” Tae murmured. “That’s the important part, right? You came for me.” He drew back enough to kiss his mate, biting Jin’s plush bottom lip as he added, “And maybe tonight you’ll cum for me, hm?”

“Don’t tease me like that, baby.” Jin closed his eyes, head tipped to the ceiling.

Clearly a more direct approach was required. Tae considered for a moment before simply reaching down and molding his hand along the zipper of Jin’s slacks.

“And if I tease you like this?”

The older sucked in a harsh breath as Taehyung lightly squeezed.

“Taehyungie,” Jin whined, hips jerking forward against Tae’s hand.

“You’ve been so good, hyung. So patient.” Taehyung thrilled as Jin muttered under his breath, cheeks going hot. From the touch? Or the praise? More data was required to confirm. “You like being good for me, hyung?”

Jin swore, his hold tightening to almost painful as Taehyung was tugged flush against the older, not even a breath between them.

“Just say the word, baby.” His voice growled against Tae’s ear and he shivered. One of Jin’s hands climbed his back, threaded into his hair and gripped. “Say the word, and I will be so very good for you.”

Tae whimpered as his head was tugged back, as Jin’s teeth scraped over his Adam’s apple.

“For you.” Kiss. “To you.” Nip. “In you.”

Tae moaned as Jin’s mouth closed over the join of his neck and shoulder, teeth working the sensitive flesh, lips sucking. His favorite spot to leave his mark. Where he could see it with just a slight tug of Tae’s collar. He drew back, humming in approval at whatever he saw. Tae panted lightly as Jin’s thumb pressed against the tender spot.

“These are the only marks I want to see on your skin,” he said. “You look so fucking pretty.”

“Hyung.” His hands clutched Jin’s shirt, the older securing his hold in Tae’s hair, baring his throat further. “Hyung, please.”

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m definitely gonna please you,” Jin said, drawing up a fresh mark on the other side of Tae’s neck. Tae thrashed against Jin’s hold, only to find himself rolled beneath the elder and pinned. Jin’s weight pressed into him, easily holding him in place. “I knew you’d fight me for control. Knew that the moment you kissed me. So fierce and sexy and demanding. But I’m in charge tonight.”

Taehyung shivered as Jin’s voice dropped. His hands worked between them, braced against the elder’s chest.

“Jin-hyung.”

“You don’t want me to stop, do you?” Jin’s mouth quirked up, one eyebrow raising at Tae’s hands. “Or do you?”

“Hyung.”

“Hyung, stop? Or…” Jin let his weight settle against Taehyung’s hands. “Or…”

Tae shook his head.

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

“That’s my beautiful boy,” Jin said. “Already falling apart for me, aren’t you? Gonna make you fall apart on me, too. Desperate looks so damn good on you.”

Seokjin’s words messed with his head. Was he embarrassed or flattered?

“Hands over your head, baby.”

Tae squirmed, still wanting to fight.

“Now.”

Tae’s hands shot toward the headboard. Jin sat up on his knees, wedged between Tae’s thighs. He loosened the tie around his neck and slipped it over his head. Leaning forward, he gathered Tae’s wrists and slid the loop around them, pulling until the silk bound him. Jin tied the silk off around the headboard. Taehyung’s heart dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of his feet as Jin reared back, surveying him with undeniable satisfaction.

“There we go,” he said. “Don’t you look all helpless and mine.”

“Oh, fuck.” Tae felt some switch flip in his brain, his trembling body surrendering to Seokjin. His legs relaxed, falling open for his gorgeous hyung.

“That’s right, baby,” Jin praised, turning the tables on Tae again. His hands fell to Tae’s thighs, massaging lightly. “Give over to me. You’re gonna let hyung take care of you, right? Gonna let me make a beautiful mess of you?”

Taehyung choked as Jin’s fingers dragged up the clothed length of Tae’s hardening cock. Jin reared up to unbutton his dress shirt. His white undershirt followed, both discarded off the bed. Then he opened Tae’s belt, dark gaze flicking up to meet Taehyung’s. A helpless moan escaped Tae as his zipper was opened slowly, tooth by tooth. Jin lifted up enough to skim slacks and boxers down his legs and away in one sweep.

And Tae’s legs sprawled wide enough for Jin to see.

“Well, what do we have here?” A hard, possessive hand slipped under Tae, squeezed his ass. “Are you—Kim Taehyung, are you plugged?”

“As though that’s the most scandalous thing I could do?” Tae’s hips bucked as Jin’s fingers slipped between his cheeks and pressed against the toy, gasping as it pushed deeper. “Do you need more proof that I’m ready, Kim Seokjin?”

“Don’t sass me, baby.” A thrill ignited in Tae’s blood at the hungry darkness in Jin’s gaze. He leaned down to lay his lips against Tae’s ear. “I will keep you tied to this bed and edge you until you cry. Until you beg. Until you sign over your club and make me independently wealthy.”

Taehyung choked on a laugh.

“Is that all you want from me?”

“And a painting.”

“Must be pretty confident in your skills if you think I’ll hand over Singularity and a Kim Taehyung original.”

“Oh, it doesn’t have to be one of your paintings.”

★

JIN

“You—you—” Indignant Taehyung was adorable. He tugged at the tie binding his wrists, bucking up. “Fuck.”

“That is indeed the plan, baby.”

Tied up, indignant Taehyung was next level hot, and Seokjin needed to maintain control before he blew his load like a first-timer.

“I think I hate you,” Tae gasped.

“If this is what hate looks like…” Jin lightly drew his fingernails the length of Tae’s impressive erection. “Hate me all night, Tae-yah.”

“Y-you…are…the worst.”

Jin squeezed his length.

“I mean…the best.” Tae tossed his head back, baring his gorgeous throat.

Seokjin breathed deep, desperate to steady himself before he went feral on everything he was picking up from Tae through their bond. Taehyung’s desire was right there, thrumming in his head, in his blood. He put the feedback to use exploring the younger’s abdomen, just the barest hint of definition lurking beneath addictive softness. He could see himself resting his head and falling asleep right here.

After.

But first, there was Taehyung, whining and thrashing as Jin pinned his hips down.

“You green, baby?” Jin dipped his tongue into Tae’s navel, coaxing a mindless, aborted thrust from his mate’s hips.

“Green. Yes. So green.” Jin watched Tae babble, pressing up against the weight on his legs, fingers working at the tie around his wrists. “Want more green. All the green.”

“Greedy,” he hummed and nipped Tae’s waist.

Jin’s hold on Tae’s hip—not quite hard enough to leave a visible reminder lasting more than a few minutes—dug in, dragging a hiss from the younger. The pain edged the pleasure, tripped those little alarms in Tae’s brain no longer certain this moment fell into the “danger” or “best night ever” categories.

“Fuck. Hyung.” Tae’s aroused confusion vibrated through the bond.

“Still green, baby?” Jin’s thumbs swept inward from Tae’s hips, teasingly close to his cock.

“Oh, yes.” Taehyung gave Jin just long enough to register his evil grin before he bucked up and twisted, ending with Jin face down beneath the younger. Tae’s bound wrists—now free from the headboard—hooked around Jin’s throat. “I should warn you. Jeongguk’s been teaching me a thing or two during our workouts.”

“Taehyungie.” Part plea, part protest. But not a no or stop or red.

“Namely, how to get a certain bratty hyung where I want him.”

Jin wasn’t opposed to bottoming. And he could totally get behind these lessons of Jeongguk’s. Or on top of. Under. In front of. He was open to negotiation.

He reached his hands behind him, grabbing Tae’s hips and grinding them together. He turned his face into the pillow, muffling his moan as Tae’s long fingers squeezed around his throat. Tae worked his right hand free of the tie and pushed beneath Jin’s hips to cup his bulging erection possessively.

“No more teasing, hyung.”

Jin whined, low and soft, as he rutted into Tae’s hand.

“You’re mine, Jinnie, and I’m yours. Maybe you just need my dick inside you to drive that home, hm?”

“I dunno.” Jin arched his back, as Tae’s hold on his throat tightened. “You’re the one who came prepped. But if you want to be in charge, I’m happy to let you ride me off into the sunset.”

Tae bust out laughing, giving Jin the distraction he needed. He flipped Tae facedown and stood, dragging the younger by his hips to the side of the bed. Tae’s feet scrabbled to brace against the floor as Jin tugged his boxers down. Jin kicked his feet wide, fingers dipping between Tae’s cheeks to press against the plug.

Jin let his weight press along Tae’s back, his other hand gripping Tae by the nape.

“I should perhaps mention that we have an excellent self-defense instructor at Big Hit, hm?”

Tae moaned as Jin started to work the well-lubed plug in and out.

“Jin-hyung. Fuck, it feels so good.” Tae went limp, letting Jin work him over.

“Hands behind your back, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung shivered, but obeyed. Jin maneuvered his hands so they gripped his forearms before wrapping the tie around them again.

“All mine now, beautiful,” Jin whispered. “Right?”

“Yes.” Tae’s arousal came through the bond loud and clear. “Please. Please fuck me.”

“As you wish.” Seokjin nipped his ear, drew on the tender lobe.

The fight for control was fun. Jin honestly didn’t care which side of the fucking he wound up on. He was an equal opportunity orgasm advocate, and thankfully, Taehyung seemed to be on the same page.

Legs still forced wide, Tae groaned as Jin worked the plug free. He buried his face in the bedding as Seokjin spread his cheeks.

“Baby’s hungry, hm?” Thumbs pressed in on either side of Tae’s hole and spread him. Pushed in. Tae keened at the slight penetration, making Jin dizzy from the echo of the younger’s pleasure. “Fuck, I can feel you Tae-yah. You’re so tight around my fingers, but that pressure and burn in you—”

“More, hyung,” Tae begged. “I want you inside me. All of you. Please, please, please.”

“Yeah, more.” Only Jin hadn’t expected this. “Where—we need—shit—”

“Nightstand, Jinnie.

Condoms. Lube.

“No toys?” Jin sheathed his dick in latex and lube.

“You just pulled a plug out of my ass.” Tae huffed. “Of course I have toys.”

“I like toys.”

Taehyung shuddered.

“And you, baby, are about to become my favorite toy.” Jin lined up, worked his length between Tae’s cheeks, teasing him. Tae whimpered, the low burn of humiliation coiling in him at the slight objectification. But with that embarrassment came something more. Something Jin wanted to explore. “Mmm. Baby wants to be used, yeah? Wants hyung to take him. Use him. Make him cum.”

“No, no, I—”

Jin’s hand came down hard on Tae’s ass. The younger cried out.

“Don’t lie to hyung, baby.”

“Hyungie—”

“Do I need to spank you again?” He brushed Tae’s wild lavender hair back from his forehead, watching his mate squirm and gasp for breath. He leaned in and said softly, “Just say red if you need me to stop, baby. Okay?”

Taehyung locked eyes with him and nodded firmly. “I’m still green, hyung.”

“So good for me,” Jin cooed. “Deep breath… and exhale.”

Tae obeyed so sweetly. The head of Jin’s cock caught on Tae’s rim and Tae groaned so beautifully. Jin pushed in, almost short-circuiting as the burn of penetration tangled with the pressure hugging Jin’s dick.

“Oh.” Tae keened as Jin pushed deeper. “Oh, fuck, I can feel—I can feel—”

“Everything.” Jin grunted as he bottomed out.

“Hyung.”

“When you’re ready, baby.” Jin shifted though, working his feet to the outside of Tae’s and carefully nudging the younger’s legs together. The increased pressure had black spots dancing at the edges of his vision. “Holy shit. How does anyone survive bonded sex?”

“I think I could cum just from this. I feel so fucking good around you, hyung.” Tae’s deep voice was heavy with tears. “Wait—did I get that wrong? My head is spinning.”

Jin shifted his hips. Not an actual withdrawal or thrust. Just a shift.

Taehyung clenched down so tight, they both yelled.

“You know.” Jin inhaled sharply. “I honestly liked sex before. This is—this is just—”

He drew back and almost passed out from the rush.

“We might have to work our way up, hyung. I’m about to cum like I’m sixteen and a cute boy looked at me sweet.”

“As much as I’d like this to last, I suppose a mutual orgasm means we’re doing something right?”

“We’ll just keep this between us, though.”

“Take it to the grave,” Jin agreed.

He thrust back in, swore his skeleton liquefied as he somehow, accidentally, miraculously nailed Tae’s prostate.

Tae shouted as he came, dragging Jin straight over the edge with him.

“Wow.” Tae’s raspy voice sounded like it was coming through water.

Jin had enough presence of mind to dispose of the condom and drag them both up onto the bed. He undid the tie around Tae’s arms, doing an almost okay job of aftercare for the younger as he massaged his arms before tugging him into his embrace.

“I’m still covered in cum, hyung.”

He snuggled Tae closer. “This is me not caring.”

“‘kay. We can shower later?”

“When we’re sure we still have things like bones and muscles.

“Fair. I may be an invertebrate now.”

“Exactly.”

“Worth it.”

Jin chuckled and kissed Tae’s forehead, a sloppy, lazy sort of kiss that involved more saliva than technique.

“Gross, hyung. I can feel your spit on my face.”

“I’m functioning on maybe twenty-five percent muscle control and seventy-five percent boneless bliss.”

★

Winter Bear was making social waves. The involvement of Big Hit darlings RM and Cypher only amplified the splash.

“I’m not really sure about this whole fame thing, though.” Tae pulled in on himself as they scrolled through social media the next morning. “If I was to become famous—”

“You caught Joon’s and Yoongi’s attention—and mine—through your talent. I want to make you ridiculously famous. For your voice. For your art.” Seokjin drew Taehyung closer, until he was half sprawled over Jin’s chest. “Fair warning. But if you think you get to go running off to Daegu next time social media lights up, keep in mind I know where your parents live now. You’re not alone in this, baby. You never have to be, either.”

“Things just don’t seem to be getting any quieter about us,” Tae said softly. “Better, but—”

Us. Jin loved that word. It sent him tumbling head over heels for this shy boy in his arms who was so sweetly different from the bold man who’d kissed him as the clock struck midnight three months ago.

Not that he didn’t like Bold Tae.

He liked Bold Tae very much, thank you.

“We’ll give them something worth talking about.” Jin tipped Taehyung’s face up, laid the words against the line of his jaw. “Your voice.”

“What about our voices?”

“Hm?”

“You sang harmony to my songs during the live.”

“Did I do that?”

“Would you sing with me?”

“Sure. Maybe. I don’t know.” Holding Tae felt like some endorphin high. “I refuse to be held accountable for anything I agree to under the influence of you, though.”

“Please?”

“This is when I say, ‘we’ll make beautiful music together,’ right?”

“That’s so bad.” Taehyung’s hearty laugh made butterflies dance in Jin’s belly. Stars, his mate was so—so—Taehyung. “You’re so cheesy, Jinnie-hyung.”

“You’ll love me anyway, baby.”

Tae surged up, straddling Jin’s waist.

“You don’t mind if I take advantage?”

Jin wrapped one hand around Tae’s neck and drew him down.

“Take advantage anytime.”