when stillness threatens a second unmaking,
i tell myself–
under my skin, there will be flowers.
under my skin, there will be flowers.
under my skin, there will be flowers,
and not a single evil thing.
not a single reminder of ruin.

— Amrita C.

≡ ≡ ≡

as a child, yoongi remembers clambering into his mother's lap as she read, small enough that she could still see over his head and continue reading her book. it was one of his favourite places: his mother's lap, her arms around him, merely existing in her space without needing every bit of her attention on him. sometimes he'd try to read along with her, having been a clever child who had been taught the basics of reading and writing easier than most other children in the country—but he would inevitably get distracted, eyes falling to the markings on his mother's forearms.

he'd always admired them, but today, for the first time, he's curious enough to question his mother when he runs his little hands over the skin of her forearms. on each, matching each other, are two wings that start near her wrists and fan out just past her elbows. the feathers are done in blacks and greys against the neutral colour of her skin, looking poised for flight, as though she could open her arms and take to the air because of them.

"mama," yoongi asks, tracing a small finger over the edge of one feather. "what's this?"

kissing the top of his head, his mother says, "that's my soulmark."

"soulmark?" yoongi turns the word over in his mouth and mind, trying to fit it into his existing understanding of the world. he's heard the word before, but only in passing and never with an explanation. he tilts his head up to see her, now upside down in his vision, with furrowed brows.

"these marks let me know that i have a soulmate," she explains. "the one person that my soul is attached to and i am meant to be with for the rest of my life. my soulmate has a similar soulmark to mine, and this is how i know who my soulmate is."

yoongi turns his eyes back to the wings, thinking now of his father. the one person i am meant to be with for the rest of my life. he's never seen these kinds of marks on his father's arms, though. "have you met them?" he asks next.

"oh no, of course not," laughs his mother. "and i never hope to."

but soulmates—soulmates sound nice. carefully, yoongi's mother turns him around in her lap until they face each other, cupping his smaller face in her hands and making sure they hold eye contact when she says, "listen to me, yoongi. soulmates are very bad."

"bad?" he repeats quietly. "why?"

"you know how mama's boss gives us everything we need? this nice, big house and our chef and maids and your toys? they let us live the way we do, so that we never want for anything." she strokes over his dark hair, grinning. "soulmates want to change that. when soulmates fall in love, they gain dangerous powers that they use to fight against mama's boss. they try to kill people like us, who are just trying to live our lives. they want to change the way things are, but things are good, aren't they? it's like in your stories—we're the good guys. and soulmates are the bad guys."

yoongi blinks back in vague fear of a nameless, faceless enemy. he does like how things are; just last month he decided he liked stories about knights and princes best, so his parents had his bedroom converted into a tiny castle and bought a real pony for him to ride and said if he still likes knights come his fifth birthday, his birthday party can be a knightly tournament with jousting and sword fights and everything. why would he want any of that to change? why would these soulmates want to take that away from him?

"but if soulmates are bad," says yoongi, "why do you have a soulmark?"

"it's like a test," says his mother. "the good people know their soulmate is out there, but they don't look for them. and if they accidentally find them, they stay far, far away to protect themselves and to show their loyalty to mama's boss. only the bad people choose to stay with their soulmate and do evil things with their powers. does that make sense?"

"yes, mama," mumbles yoongi. "but—do i have a soulmate?"

"yes," says his mother. "when you're sixteen, you'll get a soulmark, too. but whatever you do, you must promise me one thing. are you listening, yoongi?"

yoongi nods his little head. his mother leans closer, until their noses are almost touching, and says, "if you ever find your soulmate, you'll do whatever you must to keep them far away from you. promise me that if you ever find your soulmate, you'll never become a bad guy. i don't care if you have to hurt them, have them thrown in jail, even have them killed." her eyes are dark, scaring yoongi far more than stories of soulmates trying to take away his toys—"you will never bond with your soulmate."

now, yoongi stares at the tattoo on the back of jeon jeongguk's neck, a mirror image of his own. two eyes of one face, time spiralling endlessly within them, dice all facing six on jeongguk as they face one on yoongi. it would be impossible to call them anything but what they are—soulmarks.

they are soulmates.

for years, yoongi has harboured such hatred for soulmates and what good they think they're doing by ambushing government officials, fighting the police, and using their abilities to harm rather than help. when he was a child, he heard stories of the bad guys that eventually turned into learning about soulmates in school, history classes painting the elite as the victims of senseless acts of violence and rebellion. the government was kind, the government was doing what they could. but when the common people tried to rise up the way they did, with soulmates fighting so violently, how could anyone blame the government for needing to punish them?

when yoongi was a teenager, the idea of bad guys shifted into resentment alone. why couldn't soulmates try to help the common people rather than hurt the elite and government? surely there were better ways to go about this rebellion of theirs. and was it yoongi's fault that the common people were poor? so why should soulmates target people like yoongi, who happened to be more fortunate?

then his brother, four years older and working as a police officer at the time, was killed by a soulmate pair. as far as anyone could tell, he hadn't been targeted, but the rebels needed to gain an inch anywhere they could, so they made him their example. when they found his body, he'd been blown apart so badly that they had to identify him by his dental records.

yoongi's soulmark appeared that spring, coming into shape starting on his sixteenth birthday. it would take two more years before it was completely finished, the image it would be for the rest of his life, but every day for those two years, yoongi would spend hours at night with a mirror held up to the back of his neck, staring at it. studying it. memorizing every inch and stroke of dark ink in his skin, so that if he ever saw someone with a matching mark, his soulmate—he would know. and he could kill them on the spot.

that was ten years ago. and yoongi's anger over soulmates has subsided, if only because he found the next best alternative to making his own soulmate pay for the rebels that killed his brother—by making every soulmate pay for the death of his brother, inventing and developing technologies for the government that aids in tracking down and killing bonded soulmate pairs. he knows how dangerous they are, how misguided. and now, at the age of twenty-six, yoongi has grown. he can understand why the common people feel the way they do, why they want more, why they're so upset with the way they've been treated.

but that doesn't change the fact that soulmates are dangerous. that they need to be stopped, that they can't just go around killing people because they're so upset with being poor and looked down upon. fighting fire with fire was never going to work like this, and he's happy to aid the government in showing them that—by fighting fire with more fire, at least for now.

yoongi can empathize, of course. but then he buries that empathy under a lifetime of resentment, fear, and grief. and then he can't believe how fucking easy it is to remember that promise he made to his mother twenty-two years ago, as though she knew that his soulmate would be born that year, lying in wait for this very day: you will never bond with your soulmate.

"get out," says yoongi immediately, already getting out of bed and pulling on the first pair of pants he can find just so he can grab jeongguk's arms and begin dragging him out of the room. "now. get out and never come back."

"wait, hyung—" jeongguk begins, yanking his arm out of yoongi's grasp before they even get to the door.

"don't call me that," snaps yoongi. "i said get out!"

"we're—can't we talk about this at least?"

"what is there to talk about?" yoongi asks, and he's—he's thought about this moment a lot. he imagined so many times what it would be like meeting his soulmate and how he would act. how he would ensure he could never risk breaking that promise he made to his mother at the age of four, how he would exact the ultimate revenge for his brother. but in all of those fantasies, he never felt this panicked, like every moment they're together now is another moment closer to them falling in love against his will—

and god. god. they spent so many hours together last night. they slept together. surely that can't bode well.

"you know how i feel about this, jeongguk," says yoongi evenly. "now get out of my house. and if you ever try to contact me again—"

"hyung, please just—" begins jeongguk, reaching for him, and now yoongi dodges out of the way, both fear and disgust evident on his face.

"don't touch me," he says. "don't touch me, jeongguk. just go."

"we're soulmates, yoongi," says jeongguk. "this is what is supposed to happen! we're supposed to find each other and be together and—and—our souls are meant to be together. we're supposed to fall in love."

"you know what happens to bonded soulmates," says yoongi. "you think we're meant to be together and yet you'd willingly put me in danger like that?"

"don't you dare exploit a fucked up system to get me to do what you want. the government is wrong about soulmates and you know it."

"we are not having this conversation right now." yoongi points to the open doorway, all fire when he adds, "get. out."

he doesn't know what it means that they're soulmates—and that, horrifyingly, it somehow makes sense. last night at the dinner event, yoongi felt himself drawn to jeongguk from the moment he laid eyes on the younger man. even when he'd fucked it up by getting into an argument, he couldn't stop watching jeongguk from his table, couldn't stop wondering what more there could be. he cared little if jeongguk was poor, if he wouldn't understand yoongi's beliefs or views on the world—he just wanted to be near him. always.

from the beginning, they just clicked, like they were meant to be together. they fell together in so many ways, like they were meant to be together.

it's ironic, now that yoongi realizes why: because they are meant to be together. and his attraction to jeongguk, his desire to be with him and keep him here even as he's insisting that jeongguk leave, is bigger and more terrifying than yoongi can comprehend. but it's just—his body, his heart betraying what he knows in his mind. of course, this is what soulmates are: souls that are two halves of one whole, drawn to each other across time and space, inclined to fall together and fall in love no matter the circumstance.

if yoongi gives himself the chance to consider it, he fears his heart will betray him. he's spent twenty-six years rejecting the idea of soulmates, siding firmly with the government against the rebels, and preparing for the moment he would have to take a firm stance and choose to reject his own soulmate. but god—god. jeongguk is... he's just—

"please, yoongi," says jeongguk carefully, quieter now. "please let me stay. let's just talk about it, okay?"

yoongi closes his eyes and breathes in deep. the truth is, he knows that if he lets jeongguk stay, he will fall in love. and perhaps more than the fear of being ostracized for it, being killed for it, is the fear of being seen. of being known. it is the fear of what jeongguk threw at him last night—of confronting the truth of their world, of his privilege and position of power, and being forced to realize that there is something inherently wrong with it. it is the fear of letting jeongguk in and being forced to lose everything because of it.

so without opening his eyes, yoongi replies, "if you don't leave, i will call the police."

he can hear jeongguk hesitate. he can hear his desire to argue, to fight for something he has believed his whole life; yoongi knows that jeongguk has dreamed of this moment, too. dreamed of finding the one person who is his perfect match, his complimentary half, the one who is meant to better him and challenge him and love him in all of love's perfection and imperfection. and so this is yoongi's first act as jeongguk's soulmate: breaking his heart, and hoping to break it so badly that it shatters, that jeongguk is so busy picking the splinters out of his ribcage that he has not a moment to spare for forgiveness.

he wants jeongguk to hate him. it's easier this way, isn't it?

"even if i wanted a soulmate," yoongi says. "i wouldn't want you."

jeongguk leaves quietly, without another word. it's only once yoongi hears the faint sound of the front door closing that he exhales, opening his eyes to take in the wreckage left behind. he sweeps his eyes over every part of the room that now has a new memory of jeongguk attached to it, these bits of a soulmate he'll never able to extract. and then yoongi gets ready for work.

≡ ≡ ≡

yoongi intends to never speak to jeongguk again, to do as he's been taught since he first understood what soulmates were—stay far away, keep himself safe, to remind himself of the dangers in the first place despite the disposition of his heart. but just as he couldn't anticipate who his soulmate would turn out to be, he couldn't anticipate how his heart begins to long. he finds himself thinking of jeongguk, wonder and worry quickly shifting into apathy when he forces it to. he tells himself he's wondering what jeongguk is doing because he's worried jeongguk will try to find him again. he tells himself he's thinking of what jeongguk's body felt like against his body because he worries what it might have left behind, what it might have done to his heart.

but for all of his resolutions to avoid and ignore the very existence of his soulmate, the universe—or said soulmate—has other ideas.

only a few days later, yoongi gets a text message from an unknown number and knows immediately that it's jeongguk—he wants to talk, wants to at least meet. he says it took a few days to text because yoongi gave him his number that night but jeongguk drunkenly saved it under some stupid name and it took him a while to figure out which one it was. yoongi ignores it.

but jeongguk keeps texting. can we please talk? can we at least meet? i know how you feel but i don't feel the same way and i'd feel better if we just discussed this. no one has to know. i promise, yoongi-hyung, no one has to know.

yoongi ignores all of them. he ignores when jeongguk starts calling him instead, yoongi's phone buzzing with the unknown number still showing because yoongi hasn't saved his contact information out of spite or self-preservation. if he gives jeongguk an inch, he knows jeongguk will take a mile. he knows how these sorts of things happen. and he knows what will become of him, if only because of the way some part of him yearns to say yes.

when the calls become too frequent and annoying, yoongi blocks jeongguk's number. all he gets is peace for two days before there are texts from another number. this time, yoongi finally responds, but only to tell jeongguk that his actions border on harassment and he'd be happy to report jeongguk to the police to make him stop.

so the texts stop. but it doesn't matter, because less than a week later, yoongi is forced to attend another small scale dinner event for his department, and the moment he steps into the ballroom, his eyes land on the young man serving appetizers to his colleagues already there.

yoongi takes a step in and then, when jeongguk's eyes shift to his, as though pulled by some outside force—and he is, god, they're soulmates, and yoongi still hasn't wrapped his mind around it because he refuses to think about it—yoongi turns around and walks back out of the room. it's as much to avoid jeongguk as it is to avoid his own traitorous heart—that has picked up speed upon seeing jeongguk, his stomach swooping. he hasn't seen jeongguk for what must be two and a half weeks, but jeongguk still looks as handsome as ever, still looks like someone yoongi knows he could fall in love with, and it's not—fair.

it's not fair how he can feel his heart and body yearning for jeongguk's merely by being in the same room. for those two and a half weeks, he's been trying to reject the idea that they're soulmates, convinced that the universe got it wrong or is just trying to mess with him. some part of him, up until now, believed that he didn't really have a soulmate at all, that he would somehow get away with never running into them and never having to worry about this very moment. but now that he's met jeongguk and knows jeongguk and has spent time apart from him, he knows—

oh, he knows. the universe didn't get this one wrong. jeongguk is his soulmate. and part of yoongi wants so badly to forget the danger of knowing jeongguk at all, reject the beliefs burned into him since childhood, and allow himself to fall. but this event is a celebration of the success of his department's latest development in tracking soulmates. in the past month of implementation, the police units using the new technology have been able to track down almost twice as many soulmate pairs as they did before.

they're here to celebrate extermination. yoongi had a hand in the development of that particular technology, so in a way, they're celebrating his own extermination of soulmates. and here—here is his soulmate, following him out of the ballroom and into the hallway, calling out his name as yoongi feels panic like bile coming up his throat. he's going to be sick. he can't possibly deal with this, with jeongguk, with a soulmate at all.

"yoongi-hyung!" jeongguk calls again, and yoongi turns around to see him jogging down the hallway after him. he's lost his tray of appetizers, but he's dressed in typical server garb, and yoongi stops short to hiss at him, "i told you not to call me that."

"but we're soulm—" yoongi latches onto jeongguk's arm, yanking him sideways into the nearest empty room, a conference room down from the ballroom. he peers both ways into the hallway to make sure no one saw or heard them; the last thing he needs is one of his colleagues discovering yoongi has found his soulmate and that his soulmate is one of the common people, someone who regularly serves them at these events. he'd die of mortification, not to mention they'd ask how he's handling the situation, and the only answer yoongi has to that the way his hands won't stop trembling when he turns back to jeongguk.

"listen, you have to stop trying to contact me," yoongi hisses. "they can track that sort of thing and if they find out who you are, they're going to know something is up. if they find out we're soulmates, they could kill us."

"but we're not even bonded."

"trust me, they don't care," laughs yoongi, running a hand through his hair. "if they think unbonded soulmate pairs pose a threat, they'll kill them, anyway. why should they wait until soulmates have already developed their abilities?"

jeongguk's face is set into a deep frown, brows pulled together. he can't possibly understand the true danger the government poses to soulmates, even seemingly innocent ones. but yoongi works in the thick of it, aware of just how easily it is to track someone down, monitor their every movement, gain access to the most intimate details of their life.

"i'm serious, jeongguk," yoongi adds. "if you value your life, you'll stop contacting me."

"if you would just talk to me, i wouldn't have to call you every other hour." jeongguk's hands are in fists at his side, looking as determined and angry as he did that first day they met, behind the bar as yoongi talked down to him about his own place in the world. "stop ignoring my texts and calls. it's just going to make things worse when we run into each other at these events, which we will, because i don't know if you've fucking noticed, but my family is always the first choice for catering and your stupid department sure likes to celebrate."

"as far as i'm concerned, there is nothing between us." it's hard to keep his voice down, but yoongi can't risk being found out. he steps closer to jeongguk, gesturing between them. "you are not my soulmate. that's just some arbitrary shit. you can go on with your life and i'll go on with mine and we'll both be fine and not at risk of being fucking killed."

"i refuse to do that," says jeongguk. "i refuse to let you go now that i know who you are. i don't care how you feel about this. i don't care what danger it poses. i won't leave you alone until you at least agree to hear me out."

"what could you possibly have to say abo—" yoongi stops, eyes snapping to the open door as he hears voices drifting down the hallway. he presses a finger to his lips in a gesture to keep jeongguk silent as he steps forward and, with a hand on his chest, pushes jeongguk to the wall next to the door, so anyone walking by won't be able to see them inside. but the voices are already getting further away, keeping them safe from being found out.

when the silence returns, he realizes how close they are, jeongguk's chest heaving beneath his spread palm. "please," jeongguk whispers again before yoongi can return to his refusals. "just listen to me for ten minutes. and if you still want me to leave you alone after that, i will. just one conversation. you owe me that much." yoongi doesn't think he does, but the bit of empathy that still lives within him for the common people—and his stupid attachment to jeongguk considering they're soulmates—has him considering.

has him letting out a harsh breath and dropping his hand. "fine," he says. "i will listen to you about this once, but not here, for fuck's sake. you have a job to do and no one here can know we're soulmates."

yoongi looks away, smoothing down the creases in his blazer, if only so he doesn't have to see the relief on jeongguk's face. "thank you," says jeongguk, in earnest. "can we—tonight?"

"i'll drive you back to my place after. but you're not staying over this time."

"i wasn't planning on trying to seduce you."

"i'm not worried about you," yoongi mutters. he peers out of the door again, making sure the coast is clear before he shoves jeongguk back into the hallway. "just go. don't try to talk to me during the event or i'll change my mind." jeongguk turns, opening his mouth to say something more, but then they both hear a noise from further down the hallway and jeongguk's mouth snaps shut instead, only throwing yoongi a vaguely desperate look before he turns and heads back to the ballroom. yoongi lets his head fall against the doorframe and counts to ten, wondering what the fuck he's getting himself into, before he follows.

≡ ≡ ≡

jeongguk looks as out of place in yoongi's home as he did the first time—not because he doesn't belong due to his upbringing, but because he doesn't allow himself to fit. he makes himself smaller, doesn't touch anything, watches the furniture and decorations like they might come alive to hurt him. for the first time in all of this, yoongi puts aside the impossibility of them being together because of the dangers and instead wonders how they could fit together with the chasm between their wealth, power, and social status. they've lived opposite lives, existed in opposite spaces.

growing up, yoongi was taught to expand to fit the available space while jeongguk was taught to shrink. when yoongi enters a room, he does so believing he will be the most powerful one there, prepared to assert that power for his own benefit merely because he's usually been right. and jeongguk—well. right now he's sitting on the very edge of yoongi's sofa, knee bouncing with anxiety, eyes taking in everything for only a moment at a time before skirting elsewhere, like a wild animal. like a wild animal backed into a corner, faced only with sharp objects and hunters wanting to display his head on their wall.

yoongi can't blame him. but for the first time, the differences between them make him not curious, but very, very sad.

"okay," says yoongi as he sits down next to jeongguk, keeping a reasonable foot of space between them. he's changed into more casual wear, clothes still more expensive than anything jeongguk has ever owned, and he's not trying to highlight the gaps between them. but they exist, and it's impossible to cover them. "you wanted to talk, so let's talk."

jeongguk opens and closes his mouth several times, like he can't decide where to start. his anxiety is evident in every line of his tense body, hands curling and uncurling against his pant legs, breath coming shallowly. he must have a speech prepared, if he's been trying to get yoongi to listen to him for over two weeks, but now this is his one chance. and he already knows yoongi has little patience for this topic. he has to make it count.

finally, he springs up from the sofa, scrubbing at his face as he paces in front of the coffee table before turning to yoongi. "okay, look," he says, eyes wild with desperation and fear. "i know you hate soulmates and believe they're dangerous and bonded soulmate pairs should die instead of challenge the established order, but let's just—just put that aside for one second. just forget about the rebels and your job and the differences between us. just for now."

it's yoongi's entire life, but he gives a tentative nod.

"before this country became the way it was, soulmates existed. before this country was even a country, soulmates existed. since the dawn of man, soulmates have existed in some capacity. for thousands of years, some cosmic force has looked at humans and decided that we shouldn't be alone. i don't know how soulmates work, how they're chosen or made or—or whatever. but beyond the politics and the violence and the prejudice, the fact remains that soulmates exist so that we don't have to do any of this by ourselves."

when yoongi doesn't immediately protest, jeongguk continues. "soulmates are supposed to make us better," he says. "that's where the abilities came from, right? at first it was normal stuff and then it evolved into what we can do now. and maybe it's gotten out of hand and maybe people use those abilities to hurt each other, but at first, it wasn't like that. at first, it was just a sign that when soulmates find each other, something beautiful happens. for my entire life, i have known there's something more. maybe it's just the way i was brought up, with the beliefs imparted on me, but i think everyone feels it. i think you feel it, too—like when you finally find your soulmate, everything will make sense."

here, jeongguk falters just slightly. he wrings his hands, he shrugs. "i never thought everything would get better if i found my soulmate. i can't romanticize it like that and set myself up for disappointment. but i have been missing some part of me for my entire life and that part is... that part is my soulmate. that part is you, min yoongi." his lips quiver up into the smallest smile, but yoongi can tell from here that there are tears beginning to well in jeongguk's eyes.

"i don't know why we're soulmates. i don't know how soulmates are decided. but we are soulmates, hyung, and that has to mean something." the truth is, yoongi knows that much is true. if soulmates didn't mean anything, if they weren't important, then the government wouldn't care so much about getting rid of them. if they weren't meant to be together, then the government wouldn't try so hard to make the common people fear finding their soulmate. but that doesn't mean he can simply throw aside the dangers to be with jeongguk.

"okay, so it means something," says yoongi. "so what?"

"so—" jeongguk huffs. "so thousands of years of soulmates coming together and becoming better for it can't be wrong. so we were handpicked by some benevolent force in the universe who looked at us, at what we could be and what we could be together, and thought of course. this is how the world is supposed to be. this is right." he laughs now, watery. wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. "the universe is so much bigger than the government or the rebels or law or poverty. and the universe chose us."

yoongi looks at him, and he is so beautiful. he is so lovely. he has grown up as though a single, lonely flower in the darkest of deserts, with no water, no sunlight, no fresh soil to plunge his roots into, and yet somehow—somehow, he has become the most wonderous garden of all. he has been handed tragedy over and over again and yet still he clings to the stubborn belief that the world can be beautiful, that there is something worth being here for, that there is goodness in the world and that goodness is the existence of soulmates.

even faced with a soulmate who has made a living off of helping the powerful kill and oppress, jeongguk refuses to lose his hope. jeongguk refuses to hate him. and oh, what yoongi wouldn't give to trade places with someone—someone worthy of jeongguk's hopes and dreams, someone who could hold them in their hands without breaking them. someone who could let jeongguk love them the way he so desperately wants to, who could risk it to let the universe have its way.

perhaps it's the kindness still left in yoongi's heart or perhaps it's their soulmate connection, flourishing now that they have finally found each other, but he wishes he could give in. he doesn't want to, but he wants to want to. he wants to be able to give jeongguk all that he is asking for, all that he wants and needs and deserves. he wants to see jeongguk happy, this lovely boy who has been given nothing but hardship and yet chooses to focus on the beauty in the world, chooses to put his belief in soulmates.

but yoongi can't.

"jeongguk," he begins quietly, and jeongguk must understand it for what it is—a rejection, albeit a reluctant one. he hurries to yoongi's side, dropping to his knees as he grabs for yoongi's hand, and yoongi is taken aback, fearful—

"please, hyung, just consider—"

"you know i can't let us be together like that," says yoongi, not unkindly, grasping jeongguk's hand. "listen, jeongguk. i like you. i really do. you're funny and smart and stubborn and a fantastic kisser to boot, but... you know how i feel about soulmates. you know what i do for a living. and i'm sorry, but i can't just put aside the way our world works. it's lovely that the universe chose us to be together, but the government can't allow it. if we're together, we'll die and that's all the reason i need to say no."

he expects immediate protesting, but jeongguk just sits on his knees and looks up at yoongi. slowly, a crease appears between his brows, his lips pursing into a small frown that yoongi immediately recognizes as an attempt not to cry. still, a single tear escapes from the corner of his eye, and jeongguk wipes at it quickly, hiding his pain as best as he can.

"i'm sorry," says yoongi quietly. "i really am."

"you're not," whispers jeongguk. "but that's okay. you just want to protect yourself."

"i'm trying to protect you, too, jeongguk."

"but i don't want you to protect me, yoongi-hyung. i want you to be my soulmate."

it's horrible, isn't it, that yoongi realizes in any other circumstance, the two of them would be great together. yoongi would love to be with jeongguk—physically, emotionally, romantically. he'd date jeongguk in a heartbeat, if they weren't soulmates. how strange it is to think such a thought, to realize the only obstacle in the way of them being together is the very fact that they are meant to be together.

carefully, so not to break his own heart, yoongi untangles his hand from jeongguk's. "we can't," he says. "we can't be together, jeongguk."

"but what if—what if we weren't together?" asks jeongguk. yoongi's brows furrow, but jeongguk's face is lighting with this new idea. "you said... soulmates are only truly dangerous when they've fallen in love and bonded. that's when their abilities appear, right? when they can do some damage to the government? and unbonded soulmates who pose a threat to the government can be targeted, but they have no reason to suspect you. you're loyal to them even having found your soulmate."

"what are you suggesting?"

"soulmates can be platonic," shrugs jeongguk. "so what if we're just... friends? we can hang out and talk and get to know each other without doing the actual soulmate thing. no dating or being together or anything that might make us a danger to the government. just friends. just two people who like each other and want to hang out and also happen to be soulmates. that's fine, right? we can do that."

yoongi wants to say—he knows himself. he knows his heart. he knows the tried and true theory that soulmates are prone to falling in love when given the opportunity. but oh, jeongguk is so earnest where he sits, looking at yoongi with the stars hung on his eyelashes in the form of pearly tears. but oh, yoongi hates how easy it is to silence the twenty-six years of teaching and belief that have led to his resentment of soulmates—because he likes jeongguk. and in lieu of being allowed to be together, being friends is easily the next best option.

"it's a bad idea," he begins, but jeongguk must sense the hesitation in his voice, because he wraps both arms around yoongi's leg, hugging it to his chest and placing his chin on yoongi's knee.

"c'mon," he says. "be my friend, hyung."

"it's dangerous and stupid."

"not if we don't tell anyone."

"we literally slept together the first time we met. what makes you think we can stay just friends?"

"we'll die if we don't, right?" asks jeongguk. "we don't tell anyone. it doesn't go further than friends. but i know you feel this—this pull. we're soulmates. and now that my soul has found yours, it's not going to let go even if i try to make it."

jeongguk knows he's got yoongi. but yoongi has his pride, trying to hold out for as long as possible despite the way his heart swells in his chest at the prospect of having jeongguk at all, at having him in a capacity that might just work. if anyone finds out they're soulmates, it'll be over. but god. fuck. yoongi wants this so badly, wants the friends part. and he can't think of another reason to refuse.

so—"fine," he sighs. "we can be friends. we don't tell anyone. it doesn't go further. but—" yoongi has to look away as he says it, fearful that he'll blush—"i guess you have a point about the soulmate thing. about a pull. i feel it, too."

he can tell jeongguk is grinning without having to look.

"shut up," yoongi mutters.

"didn't say anything," laughs jeongguk.

"well, you're too loud."

"we're gonna be the best of friends," jeongguk cuddles yoongi's leg to his chest, looking like a child with his favourite toy. "just you wait, hyung. you're gonna love me."

yoongi snorts, nudging jeongguk away so he can stand up and get them a drink, because they certainly need it. you're gonna love me. he doesn't tell jeongguk that's exactly what he's afraid of.

≡ ≡ ≡

at first, yoongi tells himself that just friends is totally feasible. keeping their new relationship a secret is the easy part in the end; he doesn't have many other friends outside of work and even then, they don't pry into his personal life to begin with. despite the control jeongguk claims the government has over him, they don't track his every movement, tap his phone, or send spies to make sure he's behaving, so as long as they don't make a point of flaunting the fact that they're actually soulmates, no one will be the wiser. for perhaps the first time in his life, yoongi is glad he never got around to getting a housekeeper or chef.

perhaps the biggest problem is the fact that it's actually kind of hard to spend time together at all. yoongi works long hours and jeongguk works longer ones, plus their schedules rarely actually match up. jeongguk has some weird complex about enjoying himself while his parents sit at home and suffer, too, which means he finds it hard to leave them even when there's no work to be done. after they agree to be friends, they don't even see each other for another week—and during that entire week, yoongi finds himself on edge as he wonders how this will pan out. is it even possible to be friends at this point? what will they even talk about? how will they keep themselves from getting into arguments about every little difference between the two of them?

and then, at the end of that week, just after dinner, jeongguk finally texts yoongi and asks if yoongi can pick him up from his family's restaurant. it's situated in the business district of the city, allowing them to serve the wealthy and elite—and it's the first time yoongi has ever even seen it. when he parks outside of the building, he finds himself straining to look out of the passenger window at it. in truth, he knows so little about jeongguk and his life, and now that they're friends, it's a good time to find out everything he's been wondering.

the restaurant is sleek and black, dark windows not allowing him to even guess what might be going on inside. he murmurs the name to himself, reading the bold letters printed on the front. yoongi is considering getting out and taking a peek inside the restaurant when the door swings open and jeongguk is hurrying out, pulling an oversized grey hoodie over his head as he does so.

"hyung," he breathes when he gets into the car, shoving a backpack between his feet. "thanks for picking me up."

"i was just gonna go inside, actually," says yoongi, still peeking around jeongguk at the restaurant. "i want to see the restaurant. if we're friends and getting to know each other and all."

"it's not that interesting," says jeongguk. "are we going back to your place?"

"c'mon, we're already here. i don't want a tour or anything; i just want to see what it's like. maybe say hello to your parents or something."

"hyung, seriously," says jeongguk, and it's clear that he's uncomfortable, shifting in his seat with a bouncing knee and a finger that won't stop tapping against the door. "let's go. they're about to start serving a really exclusive couple so we'd be interrupting anyway."

"jeongguk—"

"yoongi." despite how firm his voice is, there's desperation in jeongguk's eyes. yoongi realizes what this is immediately—jeongguk doesn't want yoongi to see this part of his life. he doesn't want to let yoongi in to something so personal, something that gives him so much pain and resentment. he doesn't want to show yoongi his weaknesses. "let's just go."

despite his own stubbornness, yoongi relents. he can't blame jeongguk for it—not when yoongi's life is so different. this car, his clothes, the house. and the restaurant isn't a reflection of the poverty jeongguk lives in—that's the point. but it was given to his family by the government as a way to keep them down, working in a restaurant that will always be more luxurious than any house they'll ever own. they own one of the most prestigious restaurants in the city and yet they can barely afford to feed themselves. the irony isn't lost on yoongi. and he can't blame jeongguk for being embarrassed of it, of this life that he didn't ask for.

so yoongi just faces front, puts the car into drive, and says, "put on your seatbelt," before pulling out of his parking spot.

when they arrive at yoongi's house, the anxiousness of their situation returns. it takes all of several minutes for yoongi to realize he doesn't actually know how to have friends—not in the true sense of the world. growing up, he was closest with his older brother, the two of them always perfectly at odds and yet inseparable in their grades, extracurriculars, and hobbies. in school, he was pitted against his classmates in an endless race for the top, and yoongi let intimate relationships suffer in his attempts to be worthy of the social status he was born into.

he's always been an introvert and a loner, more or less, choosing to focus on his education and then his career. as a child, any friends he had were due to proximity or clubs his parents put him into. as an adult, his lack of friends is as much because of his lack of desire to have friends as it is the simple fact that no one in the elite society views each other as someone worthy of having as a friend. it's always cutthroat here, vying for the attention and approval of the government and inner circle of the elite.

besides, mingling too much increases the chances of soulmates finding each other. and since the elite generally find it uncouth to mingle with the common people... it's a lonely sort of existence. it's lonely when yoongi follows jeongguk into his own home and finds himself beginning to sweat because he doesn't know the first thing about being friends. he can argue and debate and flirt, sure, but friendship—friendship with someone so vastly different from him is a foreign concept.

so he watches as jeongguk kicks off his shoes and pads up the stairs into the living room. it's clear already that he feels more comfortable around yoongi, because he's acting differently than he did the last two times he was here; the first times, he was careful to place his shoes next to yoongi's and now he's all but flung them in whatever direction he feels. yoongi stares at those shoes and knows this is the very first sign of jeon jeongguk coming into his life and ruining everything that yoongi has known to be true. this is jeongguk disrupting the normal, colouring outside of the lines, messing up yoongi's best laid plans for his life of wealth and power and knowledge.

and while weeks ago, when they had first met, yoongi would have been horrified at that idea, disgusted, even—now he grins to himself. he leaves the shoes.

by the time yoongi reaches the top of the stairs, jeongguk has dropped his backpack there and flung himself face first onto yoongi's sofa. yoongi snorts at the sight coupled with the groan jeongguk gives upon hearing yoongi enter the room. "i'm so fucking tired," jeongguk says, words muffled by the fabric of the sofa. "and sore. i literally need a new back and i'm only twenty-two."

"long day?" asks yoongi as he wanders into the kitchen with the intention of getting jeongguk some tea to help with the aches and pains.

"you wouldn't believe!" jeongguk calls to him. "one of the waiters accidentally mixed up a very minor detail in someone's order and this bitch asked everyone to stop what they were doing and listen to her chew him out in the middle of dinner. she was part of a big party so she got all of them to leave shitty reviews at the end of the meal, so our compensation is gonna tank, plus the waiter had a panic attack and will probably be too traumatized to do meaningful work for a while."

"that does sound rough."

"it's just stupid because these people think they have a right to talk to us like that just because we're in the service industry," says jeongguk. "no one even bats an eye. and even if you don't do anything wrong, they still feel the need to say mean shit to you. i've literally been verbally harassed while just walking down the street by the restaurant, which is why none of us ever wander outside of our own neighbourhoods." yoongi hums, listening to jeongguk as he continues to rant about his day. when the water boils, he pours some into a mug and adds a tea bag, returning to the living room to find jeongguk still face down on the sofa.

since he can't see, yoongi allows the fondness to overtake him—just for a second, just as he marvels at how easily jeongguk has wormed his way into his house. it's like this is his house now, too, even though they haven't known each other for long. but knowing they're soulmates might be enough to force them out of any awkwardness as they get to know each other.

because the truth of it is that jeongguk does belong here. he belongs wherever yoongi is. that's what soulmates are.

"here," says yoongi as he sits next to jeongguk's head, hesitating before he rakes his fingers through jeongguk's hair in comfort. "i made you tea. it might help."

"oh my god, you're the best," sighs jeongguk, but he doesn't move. "think you could feed it to me through a funnel?"

"i don't think we're at that point in our friendship yet."

"good to know i have that to look forward to." slowly, jeongguk does pull himself into a sitting position, groaning the whole time. his bones and joints keep cracking, making yoongi frown as he hands the mug of tea over. "really, though, thank you for letting me come over. i've been working so much lately and as much as i love my parents, it's hard to go back home after sometimes. because no matter where i go, i can't escape the truth of our situation. i go home and my parents are there and they're talking about work and worrying about how much money we have and dealing with the shit we're given. and i hate leaving them, but i just... i needed a break."

jeongguk curls his knees into his chest, sipping at the tea and letting out a long sigh as he swallows. they're still sitting a bit apart, and yoongi doesn't hesitate this time when he scoots over until they're pressed together, wrapping his hand around jeongguk's ankle like an anchor. the moment they touch, it's like all of the tension leeches out of jeongguk's body, relaxing into the sofa and slumping against yoongi's side. "i'm glad i could be an escape for you," yoongi murmurs. "i'm sorry things are tough."

"i still feel bad, though. i feel like i'm just abandoning my parents if i run away to here. like—this house is so nice and you have expensive tea and actual heating. and i love it but i resent, too, because i don't have that and my parents don't have that and when i'm here, they're just stuck there and i feel guilty for enjoying this."

"jeongguk," says yoongi carefully. "you are allowed to enjoy this. i can't pretend that i understand what it's like to live in the circumstances you do, but you're not responsible for making sure that everyone in your life is happy. and—i mean, if you let me meet your parents, they could always come over sometimes too."

"that's fucking weird."

"we're soulmates."

"i thought we weren't supposed to tell anyone."

"i'm just saying. if it makes you feel this guilty, i can have them over for dinner."

jeongguk lets out a very long sigh, head falling against yoongi's shoulder. together, they stare out of the windows into yoongi's front lawn, a line of trees separating them from yoongi's neighbours. "that's not the point," jeongguk says eventually. "you're missing the point."

"which is?"

"i don't want to talk about my shitty life right now." that's not the point either, but it's clear the conversation is over. they have yet to figure out how to talk about their differences without misunderstanding each other—and yoongi knows he's mostly to blame for that, never really having understood the conditions people like jeongguk lived in. but jeongguk won't let him in, won't explain it to him, so he doesn't know how he's supposed to pick up on what jeongguk is trying to subtly tell him.

and anyway—he doesn't want this to turn into an argument again. it's only their first time hanging out as friends, after all.

so yoongi just rubs his thumb against jeongguk's ankle bone and asks, "what do you want to talk about, then?"

jeongguk considers his words. "what's your favourite colour?" he finally asks.

"seriously?"

"we're becoming friends, hyung. i want to know things about you."

"this is so stupid. what are we, twelve?"

"mine is yellow, thank you for asking."

yoongi tilts his head to glare at jeongguk, but jeongguk is already giving him a smug grin over the lip of his mug. and yoongi hates how his heart does something funny in his chest, impossibly endeared with the antics of jeongguk—already, already. this is such a terrible idea. they say that given the chance, soulmates will always fall in love. growing up, these words were used as a mantra to terrify him, as a precursor to the rest of it: and if they fall in love, soulmates become dangerous.

he's never considered that such a notion might be dangerous for other reasons.

"blue," says yoongi eventually. "my favourite colour is blue."

"why?"

"why? i don't know. i just like it."

"yellow is the colour of hope," says jeongguk. he's not looking at yoongi anymore. "it's usually associated with sunshine and happiness, which doesn't always make sense for why it's my favourite. why should i care about a colour that people associate with happiness? but it's also associated with hope. and calmness. courage. when i was a kid, i read about that artist van gogh. there's a story about him wanting to eat yellow paint because he wanted his insides to be bright, because it might make him happy. it's just a myth, of course. he never did that. but i get it. yellow isn't my favourite colour because i'm happy. it's my favourite colour because i want to be happy."

briefly, yoongi wonders what it is about tragedy that has made jeongguk so goddamn wise. wonders what it is about poverty that forced him to mature so much faster than yoongi ever did, a twenty-two-year-old with the mind of someone who has suffered, who has grown, who will never allow himself to be trampled upon again.

jeongguk is trying. he is trying so hard to let yoongi in without having to give every part of himself over. he's grown up fiercely protective of the things that he owns because they're so few, afraid of showing his own weakness and vulnerability. but he's trying. and the least yoongi can do is try back.

"blue is the colour of the sea," says yoongi. "i was obsessed with the ocean and sea creatures as a kid. i'd make my parents take me to the aquarium almost every weekend. i had a lot of fleeting obsessions, but that's the one that lasted the longest; i had an underwater themed bedroom for a long time. i think part of me—well. if i had ever really been given the choice, i'd probably want to be a marine biologist or something."

when jeongguk glances at him, there's such light dancing in his eyes. yoongi wants him to look that surprised and mesmerized by yoongi all of the time. "i'm yellow, you're blue," he says, poking yoongi's arm. "together we make green. springtime. newness. starting over."

"also spinach," says yoongi very seriously. jeongguk guffaws and then slaps a hand over his mouth. yoongi gives himself one point in the competition he has with himself to make jeongguk happy.

"what else do you want to know?" he asks.

jeongguk hums. "what's the last dream you remember having?"

"i was playing a game of golf with my grandmother and every time i did more poorly than her on a hole, she'd give me a tattoo."

"very strange," muses jeongguk. "i think mine was about you. but the only thing i remember is that you were there."

"means it was a good dream, then?"

"don't flatter yourself."

yoongi grins. "my turn. would you rather have seven fingers on each hand or seven toes on each foot?"

"what the fuck kind of question is that?"

"just answer it."

jeongguk groans, sitting up so he can lean over and put his now-empty mug on the coffee table. when he returns to the sofa, though, he doesn't go back to how he was sitting before and instead turns sideways so he can lay down with his head in yoongi's lap, completely nonchalant. yoongi finds himself freezing even as jeongguk starts debating the merits of the question out loud, staring down at this boy in his lap. surely this goes beyond the basic requirements of being friends. and yet—there are no rules here. and yet—yoongi finds he likes it, finds it so easy to put his hand on jeongguk's head and start carding his fingers through jeongguk's hair as jeongguk talks about extra fingers and toes.

"fingers," he finally decides. "you could shove seven fingers into your asshole." when yoongi hesitates, jeongguk pushes his head into yoongi's unmoving hand so he continues playing with jeongguk's hair. "i'm not into foot stuff, so extra toes have no effect on my sex life."

"you are by far the weirdest person i've ever met," says yoongi. "you know that?"

"i know," grins jeongguk. from here, when he looks up at yoongi, his eyes are so bright, that grin crooked on his lips. against his better judgement, yoongi considers, just for a moment, kissing him. he was right, in the end; they've already slept together. and it was a great time. he doesn't know how he's supposed to just pretend he's not already insanely physically attracted to jeongguk. but no matter—he just puts a hand on jeongguk's face, squishing his cheeks together and then flicking his nose to keep from doing something stupid.

"next question," he says. "what kind of painting would you do, if you could?"

jeongguk's face falls for a second, but the flash of panic in his eyes is covered immediately. "i like surrealism," he says. "irrational juxtaposition. digging deep into your unconscious mind and seeing what whack shit you come up with. it's always really interested me so i tend to paint surrealist stuff when i can." he shrugs a little. "if i wanted to get deep about it, i'd say it's because reality is so goddamn horrible that i like bending it to my own will. i can finally have some power when i make art."

"you should show me sometime." yoongi's voice is soft as he says it, gently sweeping jeongguk's bangs away from his forehead. "if you want to, of course. but i'd love to see your stuff." that would perhaps be the most vulnerable thing jeongguk could do—and it might be too much. but the truth is that yoongi does want to know everything about jeongguk, wants to see even the darkest and dirtiest parts of him. maybe one day they'll get down to the very bottom of each other.

"only if you take me to the aquarium," says jeongguk, "and i get to see you geek out about sharks and jellyfish or whatever."

god. god. yoongi wants to kiss him.

"deal," he says instead. jeongguk's smile is so bright and true. yoongi knows he's fucked.

≡ ≡ ≡

most of the time, the two of them hang out in yoongi's house. it's easiest that way, safest. sometimes yoongi will pick jeongguk up at the restaurant. sometimes jeongguk will insist on taking the subway with what little extra money he has, and yoongi respects his pride enough not to insist otherwise. but jeongguk never lets yoongi pick him up at his house, never lets yoongi anywhere near his neighbourhood. yoongi can respect that, too.

but eventually, just hanging out in yoongi's house begins to get a little old. they've gotten to know each other well enough with silly conversations, debates about mostly harmless topics, and exhausted most of yoongi's movie and music collection. yoongi doesn't mind spending all of his time in his house and besides, it's easier to deal with jeongguk's guilt when yoongi isn't actively spending money on him. if they go out, that's going to change.

but it's not his choice in the end. after two months of exclusively hanging out in yoongi's house, jeongguk calls at nearly midnight on a wednesday and, in lieu of a greeting, says, "can we go out and get fucking wasted?"

yoongi blinks at his desktop screen. he's still at the office, trying to work out the kinks in a new design he and a colleague are working on. and he really should finish this, really should stay here. but he can tell merely from jeongguk's tone of voice, that this is something important. and it's harrowing how quickly yoongi changes his mind about what to do with his night.

"is that a healthy decision to make right now?" he asks even as he saves his work, shuts down his computer, begins packing up. "it sounds like you're trying to run away from something and i'm not sure getting drunk is the best idea."

"are you trying to police me right now, min yoongi?"

"i'm trying to be a good friend."

"i'm getting wasted either way. it's up to you if you want to come with me and make sure i don't make any truly stupid decisions. have you heard of the kind of shit we have in our bars?"

for some time, yoongi forgot that jeongguk is still twenty-two. a whole four years younger than him and dealing with so much more. yes, he's mature and headstrong and has dealt with a lot more than yoongi has. but he's still twenty-two.

pulling on his coat, yoongi makes his way out of the office as he says, "where am i picking you up?"

jeongguk sounds only vaguely relieved when he gives yoongi an address and then hangs up.

it was clear from the phone call that something is wrong with jeongguk. but yoongi doesn't anticipate just how worried he'd be when he sees jeongguk, when jeongguk tells him to take yoongi wherever he wants to go. he's burying something. he wants to drown some sorrow he won't yet let yoongi in on, but this is what yoongi can do now—help him, be there for him, take his hand and make sure he doesn't do something he'll regret.

and yet, the pain practically radiating off of jeongguk hurts yoongi too. is it the fact that they're soulmates? is it this that leaves yoongi aching when he glances at jeongguk in his passenger seat on the way to some bar he's chosen? is it this that makes yoongi want to take care of him so badly that he almost changes directions and takes jeongguk to his house instead? is it this that makes yoongi realize there is so much more to them than friends, even without being soulmates?

it's not the best night yoongi has ever had. he keeps a hand on jeongguk's thigh where they sit in their booth at a club, trying to force him to drink water between all of the shots. he ignores the strange looks they get when it's clear that jeongguk doesn't really fit in because of his clothing, but no one says anything outright. and for the first time, yoongi realizes he doesn't actually care. it's none of their fucking business, anyway.

it's not the best night yoongi has ever had. he tries to talk jeongguk through whatever is bothering him, but jeongguk wants to sing along to the music instead, wants yoongi to tell him stories to keep his mind occupied, and yoongi can do that. yoongi can do whatever jeongguk needs.

it's not the best night yoongi has ever had. but somewhere in the midst of it, in between jeongguk pulling him onto the dance floor, drunkenly swaying around with their hands clasped, and dragging jeongguk out to his car with jeongguk giggling into the crook of his neck because he's so far gone, yoongi has a very important realization: he likes jeongguk a lot more than he intended. he wants to be with jeongguk, wants to take care of him, wants to have so many more nights like this that aren't because jeongguk is angry or afraid or upset. it's only taken been two months but yoongi realizes, against his will, that he likes being jeongguk's soulmate.

being jeongguk's soulmate led to this friendship in the first place. led to yoongi feeling like he has a right to be the one taking jeongguk back home, helping him inside, making sure that he drinks water so he won't have a terrible hangover tomorrow morning. led to yoongi allowing his own feelings to fester and grow within him, blaming it on that soulmate connection while knowing that it would have happened anyway, because it's jeongguk.

oh, jeongguk was right. they're meant to be together. they're supposed to fall in love.

and yoongi doesn't know what to do with all of this—with these new feelings inside of him as he pulls jeongguk's shoes off and puts him to bed. liking jeongguk is one thing, but jeongguk isn't just anyone. he's yoongi's soulmate. and if he's yoongi's soulmate, what does it mean that yoongi likes being with him this much? what does it mean that maybe he's beginning to think having a soulmate isn't the worst thing in the world?

for his entire life, yoongi has resented soulmates, has hated them, has wanted them dead. his job is to ensure they die. but here is his soulmate, groggily and sleepily calling out yoongi's name when yoongi gets to the door, intent on letting jeongguk sleep while he takes the spare room. here is his soulmate, making a grabby hand in an attempt to get yoongi to come back. here is his soulmate, mumbling about wanting yoongi to pet his hair until he falls asleep because it makes him feel better.

this boy—wrapped up in yoongi's covers and asking for comfort—isn't dangerous. how could he be? even if they fall in love, how could anyone think they deserve to die for that? it's a horrible thought. it might just be the worst thought yoongi has ever had. because if he truly believes that—that being jeongguk's soulmate is the best thing that's ever happened to him, and he wants to be with jeongguk, and he doesn't think they deserve to die for what might become of them in the future—then what does that mean for his entire system of beliefs?

how can he grapple with these new thoughts, new beliefs in light of how he lives his life? in light of what he's believed for twenty-six years? he can't think of it now, as he sits beside jeongguk and lulls him to sleep. he can't think of it now, when his heart is so wrapped up and warm and wanting more. all he knows is: jeongguk is the loveliest person he's ever met. all he knows is: jeongguk is his soulmate and yoongi no longer hates that.

for now, he lets that be enough. he can deal with everything else later.

≡ ≡ ≡

(the next time someone makes a breakthrough in his department, a newly revamped technology once again working in the government's favour to find bonded soulmates and put them in an early grave, yoongi finds himself sitting in his office and staring out at his colleagues as they celebrate. someone brought champagne and cake as they mingle in the larger part of the office, shaking hands and giving congratulations. at the front of the office is a live feed of the police at work with the technology. the screen shows the officer breaking into a house near the river, nondescript and run down. whoever is inside is screaming, something to do with their power as the walls around the officer begin to close in.

when a gun comes into view of the camera, yoongi has to look away. he hears the gunshots anyway, hears the cheering go up from his colleagues.

months ago, he would have been cheering with them. now, he just feels sick to his stomach.)

≡ ≡ ≡

"hey," greets yoongi when jeongguk slides into his passenger seat. he's almost breathless, grinning at yoongi as he pulls on his seatbelt. "how was work?"

"okay," says jeongguk. it's the early afternoon, since jeongguk and his parents just finished catering a luncheon for the finance department. he claims he dislikes working in the mornings, but it gives him the afternoon off before they have to open the restaurant for the evening, and in truth, yoongi likes being able to see jeongguk during daylight hours. "i never want to hear another word about taxes again, though. how do people genuinely find accounting interesting?"

"i promise not to talk about taxes," says yoongi. briefly, he notices jeongguk's hair is sticking up on the side from where he pulled on his sweater, so he reaches over to run his fingers through it and make it lie flat. "wanna go back to mine? i got that new shooting game you mentioned hearing about."

jeongguk is staring at him. it takes a second for yoongi realize he's been absently pushing jeongguk's hair behind his ear, running his thumb over the shell of his ear. it's not strange; physical affection between them is common, but even then, they're technically in public. when yoongi moves his hand, jeongguk says, "actually, i was thinking... we could go to mine instead?" it's said hesitantly, carefully.

the surprise must be evident on yoongi's face, for jeongguk is quick to add, "i mean, unless you don't want to."

"i do," says yoongi firmly. "i do, jeongguk. just tell me the address?"

it's been nearly four months. four months of friendship that has constantly teetered on the edge of something more, at least for yoongi. he wants it to be surprising how easily they've fallen together, becoming entrenched in each other's lives. he wants to say he couldn't see this coming, how he spends an embarrassing amount of time each day trying to figure out how to see jeongguk again. but none of that is true—because it was always going to turn out like this, with the two of them nearly inseparable despite their differences. they're soulmates. nothing they do can keep yoongi from constantly being aware of that truth.

but even with how close they've gotten, yoongi still hasn't seen where jeongguk lives, how he lives. and he's respected jeongguk's decision not to let him into that part of his life, knowing how difficult it is. and now—now jeongguk is almost shyly telling him his address, looking out of the window rather than at yoongi as he says, "i don't want you to get your hopes up. it's really sad, but i want to show you."

the truth is, this nation is entirely about division. the rich and the poor, the powerful and the powerless, the government and the soulmate rebels. once, jeongguk went off for twenty minutes about how easily the people could turn things around, if only the entire nation came together—the common people and the elite, soulmates or not. but the government is clever in dividing the elite and the common people not by force, but by making them believe they ought to be divided. by allowing them to make enemies of each other, ensuring they'll never come together to fight a common foe.

yoongi has never been to this part of the city. as they drive, the buildings begin to change, skyscrapers and high rises long behind them. there are no flashing lights and expensive cars on this side of the city. it's darker, somehow. quieter. the streets begin to lose their shine, their shape, and all at once, yoongi blinks and finds them in a city stricken with poverty. it's clear that the politicians of this city or country don't take care of anything here. it's not dirty, not in the way yoongi's colleagues might imagine. the people, as jeongguk has told him, take care of themselves and each other. this is all they have. but it's just... sad. yoongi has never seen a city look sad.

when they turn onto jeongguk's street, there's a group of small children playing by the corner. they stop and stare at yoongi's car, a mix of awe and fear on their faces, and yoongi has never felt so out of place in his life. somehow, knowing he doesn't belong here doesn't bring any satisfaction to him. having the fancy car doesn't make him feel good. for the first time, he wonders just how they see him, everything in excess. he wonders how many families he could feed in a day with the price of this car alone.

"that's it," says jeongguk eventually, pointing to a small apartment building that yoongi parks beside. it's only two stories high, one apartment stacked on top of another with access from the outside. from here, it just looks... plain. the grass outside of the building is brown and spotty at best, but there are flowers growing on the windowsills and next to the door up a set of concrete steps. despite the fact that the stairs themselves are cracked and missing chunks, and the stucco siding on the apartment is missing whole strips of paint and the door is crooked, looking like it doesn't even fit into the frame properly, yoongi can already tell: this place is well-loved. this place is someone's home, someone's pride.

jeongguk hesitates with his hand on the doorknob, glancing backwards at yoongi. "it's not much," he says. "i mean, it's not anything. but it's mine. just... there's no system that tracks your internal temperature to make sure it's not too cold or too hot. okay?" yoongi can't tell if he's asking for yoongi not to judge him or not to be too shocked, but either way, yoongi nods. and then jeongguk lets him in.

over the last four months, yoongi has heard bits and pieces about the apartment, or about jeongguk's neighbourhood, or about his life at all. he's built up an image of it, of what the government has handed to people who do their best to succeed even with the cards stacked against them. somehow, the apartment he walks into is both everything and nothing like he thought it would be.

it's small—that's the first thing yoongi notices. the front entrance is in the kitchen, a cramped space with barely enough room for essential appliances; the oven and stove look to be fifty years old, not to mention the smallest refrigerator that yoongi has ever seen. it makes noises like it's struggling to keep its head above water. the dining room appears to double as the living room, a coffee table also the kitchen table with no chairs in sight. there's a couch against one wall.

yoongi spots a small hallway off to the side and three doors—one he imagines leads to the bathroom, one to jeongguk's parent's bedroom, and the last to jeongguk's room. that's it. jeongguk wasn't lying when he said the entire apartment could fit inside yoongi's living room alone.

and yet—despite its size, despite the lack of high-end appliances that yoongi owns, something about it feels warmer than yoongi's house ever has. there's no television, but there's a handheld radio on the coffee table next to a small vase of flowers that look like they were picked from someone's garden. the kitchen counters are lined with a mismatch of cooking utensils, none the same colour or made with the same material. the curtains against the window in the living room are thin but look beautifully homemade with scrap material. there are candles everywhere. yoongi remembers jeongguk complaining last month about the power being turned off for a few days.

he wanders further into the apartment, keenly aware of jeongguk's eyes on him, watching him, waiting for a reaction. but yoongi wonders if this is how jeongguk felt seeing his house for the first time—in awe of their differences, wondering how anyone can live like this, wondering how it is that they've been given such vastly different lives for apparently no reason at all.

yoongi finds himself before one of the doors off of the hallway, cracked open so that he can see it can't be jeongguk's parents' room. he glances back, seeking permission to enter, and jeongguk nods.

jeongguk's bedroom is so entirely him that it almost hurts to look at it. it's tiny, as is the rest of the apartment, barely room for the thin mattress jeongguk sleeps on. his clothes are hung on what looks like pipes screwed to the walls, stacks of books on a tiny desk that doesn't match any of the other furniture in the apartment. the window is half open, clearly broken.

it's not any of this that yoongi pays attention to, though. it's the art. jeongguk's desk is crowded with supplies, bottles of paint and brushes that he's clearly had for years and years. there are makeshift canvases stacked against one wall, many that appear to already be finished pieces. and—jeongguk's walls are covered in paint. it almost looks like graffiti, like jeongguk decided to take up a brush and create whatever his heart was content with at that moment. each wall is something new, some the surreal art that jeongguk explained was his favourite and some abstract, some with words hidden, some just splashes of colour. even the floor has flecks of paint on it, residual. it's a burst of colour, like fireworks exploding before yoongi's eyes.

it's jeongguk's home. lacking in so many basic human needs, but it's all he has. he's made do here.

yoongi runs his hand over the wall next to the window, the paint below his fingers depicting a screaming mouth. he can feel jeongguk's frustration in it, can feel his anger with the hand he has been given. on the other side of the window is a field of sunflowers, bright yellow lighting up the room. he walks along the perimeter of jeongguk's room, admiring each part of the art, each little knick knack he comes across that let him in just a little more.

this jeongguk's heart. this is jeongguk showing yoongi his most vulnerable parts. this is it.

yoongi stops at the foot of jeongguk's bed. on the wall above it jeongguk has painted two eyes, each with a swirling clock face inside and dice for numbers—one all sixes, one all ones. their soulmarks.

he stares at it for a long time. and then he turns around to look at jeongguk, who has been hovering by the door. "you did all this?" he asks, even though it's obvious.

"art has always been my emotional outlet," says jeongguk. "i've lived here my entire life, and when i was a kid and got upset about something—usually being poor—i'd paint something on the wall. most of that early stuff has been covered, but i still do it. every time i feel something i don't know how to get out otherwise, i paint." he gestures to the canvases by yoongi's feet. "those are my actual work that i spend real time planning and executing. these walls are just... my feelings. we talk to each other."

yoongi touches the paintings of their soulmarks, wondering when jeongguk added those. wondering what he was feeling so deeply that he needed to let it out like that. he's noticed some harrowing parts—an entire section by the door that looks like jeongguk just threw black and red paint at the wall out of frustration. swirling colours that make him sad just by looking at them. but the yellow—the yellow gives him hope, as it's meant to. not everything has been so terrible.

"it's really beautiful, jeongguk," says yoongi. "you're amazing at what you do. and i'm really glad you decided to show me."

jeongguk shrugs. "if you want me to paint your walls, just let me know."

grinning, yoongi takes a seat on jeongguk's mattress and looks up at the walls. he thinks of what he's seen in this neighbourhood, in this apartment, of how jeongguk lives cramped together with little and is forced to make due. and then he says, "when i was a kid, my parents were always renovating our house to stay up to date with the latest trends in interior design and whatever. i remember when i was a teenage, my mother got so upset with how our kitchen looked that she wanted to redo it again, but she was supposed to host a string of dinner parties in the coming months and didn't want to reschedule. so they just built a new fucking house." he laughs now, realizing for perhaps the first time how ridiculous all of this is. "there has never been a problem in my family's life that money or power or connections can't solve. i don't even know how many houses and cars my parents own anymore. my mother never wears an outfit twice, but each outfit she wears could buy you a house bigger than this apartment."

he feels jeongguk sit down beside him, their legs brushing. for his entire life, yoongi has loved his wealth and status. he's loved the house and the clothes and the vacations. he's taken it for granted, but even when reminded of how the less fortunate live, it only made him love his privilege more. four months ago, when he first met jeongguk, he wouldn't have been ready to see this. but after four months of being jeongguk's friend, seeing how hard he works and how much he suffers anyway, yoongi is finally ready to admit it—

"no one should live like this," he whispers. "no one should live the way i do, especially when this is how you live."

jeongguk loops their arms together, leaning his head against yoongi's shoulder. "that's what i've been trying to tell you," he says.

"i've seen how hard you work and how much you deserve, and this is what you're given. just because the government says so. fucking christ. what am i supposed to do?"

"i don't need you to save me, yoongi-hyung," says jeongguk. "but i need you to understand. this is how everyone lives. honestly, lots of people have it worse than my family does, because at least we're able to cater to the elite. but we're all suffering and we're all trying to make the most of it. we don't want to be here. and those rebels—those soulmates you keep helping the government kill? they're just trying to get us out of here, too. maybe their methods aren't the best, but we've been fighting for so long and no one is listening. those dangerous soulmates know what you know now: no one should live like this. they're just trying to show everyone else that, too."

it's a very simple idea, suddenly. and maybe yoongi's mother wasn't entirely wrong back then—the rebels do want to tear down the system that allows the elite to live the way they do. that's the only way the common people will ever get out of their poverty. but while the elite see this as a threat and a cause to kill soulmates, yoongi now understands it for what it truly is: a cry for help, a determination for a better future. when he could only understand his own lavish lifestyle, it made sense that he wouldn't want it to change. but now that he understands what's on the other side, now that he understands that by living such a life, people like jeongguk are living this life, he doesn't feel threatened anymore.

the elite and government see the rebels trying to destroy the wealth and power of the one percent. but really, they're just trying to fight for a world where there is no one percent, because everyone is a little more equal. without empathy, yoongi wouldn't want to give up his wealth in order to allow people like jeongguk to live a more comfortable life. but now he knows jeongguk. now he understands all of this.

and something within him is changing.

"i finally get it," he admits. "i get where they're coming from."

"good," says jeongguk, kissing yoongi's shoulder. "that's a good start." that's all it can be for now; yoongi's mind is reeling with new understanding, new feelings that are warring with the beliefs he's had for twenty-six years. he doesn't know how to grapple with it all, with new information and empathy that is making him rethink everything he's known for so long. but he doesn't want to be afraid of it. if he understands and confronts his own privilege, he can't be afraid of it. if he begins to view soulmates differently—

"i really care about you, you know," says yoongi. "as a friend and as a soulmate. i want you to be happy, jeongguk."

"i am, hyung. i'm happy with you." jeongguk pats his arm. "but enough depressing talk. i want to show you around the neighbourhood. it might not look like much, but it's a good home." yoongi can already see that much; love oozes out of every part of this apartment to begin with, the careful touch of someone who understands the preciousness of what little they own. and now more than ever, yoongi wants to understand everything he can about jeongguk—how he lives, what his life is like, the truth of how he and his people have been treated. yoongi is finally ready to have that conversation.

it's only later, when jeongguk won't stop laughing about yoongi being pulled into playing some ridiculous jump rope game with some of the neighbourhood kids and yoongi is awful at it and the kids won't stop making fun of him and jeongguk looks so fucking lovely like that, looks like someone yoongi wants to spend the rest of his life with—yoongi realizes one very important thing.

the only thing that had been keeping him from letting go and fully allowing himself to fall for jeongguk was his view on soulmates. they can't change the fact that they are soulmates, but yoongi was strict on their friends arrangement almost entirely because of his negative belief in soulmates, the fact that they're dangerous, the fact that he didn't want a soulmate in the first place. no matter what he believes, the government will still track down soulmates and kill them. it'll still be dangerous to be with his soulmate at all.

but yoongi could maintain his refusal when he believed having a soulmate was the worst thing that could happen to him.

but jeongguk is laughing at him, eyes so bright and heart so full, and yoongi can only look at him and wonder—what's stopping him now? if he is no longer certain that soulmates are in the wrong, what's stopping him from wanting to be jeongguk's soulmate and be his soulmate to the fullest? in the truest sense of the word?

what's stopping him from falling in love with jeongguk?

"hyung!" laughs jeongguk, grabbing his hands and pulling him away from the children who are still bullying him. "you're so terrible at this. what an embarrassment. it's okay, though," he adds, threading their fingers together. "i'll just have to teach you. you'll fit right in before you know it."

his hands are warm on yoongi's, his smile so bright that yoongi wants to steal it from him with a kiss, wants to swallow it down like yellow paint. wants jeongguk's sunshine to live inside of him forever.

oh, yoongi thinks. maybe what's stopping him from falling in love is a silly question.

he already has, hasn't he?