"I'm not wearing that," he told me with a roll of his mocha brown eyes.

"Come on," I said. "Why do you always have to be so difficult? Hobi is never this problematic."

"Then go dress him up like your own personal Ken doll," he told me. I watched as he ran a hand through his mint green hair.

"I do," I said. "Dressing the two of you is literally my only job."

"How about this," he says, turning to look at me. "You dress him, I dress myself, and we pretend like you're still in charge of both of our outfits, but you really only have to do half of the work."

"No."

"But it cou-"

"NO!" I practically yell at him. I rub my fingers over my eyes. "God. Why do you have to keep doing this to me. Just put the damn clothes on and stop being a whiny fucking baby."

"Did you just call me a 'whiny fucking baby'?" He asks me. I shrug and nod. "Should you really be talking to me like that? Do you know who I am?"

This time, I'm the one who rolls my eyes. "Yes, Yoongi. I know who you are. I've been your stylist for two years."

"Two years of you trying to put me in shit that you know I don't want to wear," he huffs as he leans his head back and closes his eyes.

"Two years of you being the most difficult person that I've ever worked with," I add. I walk over and sit down on the small couch in the dressing room that he and Hobi are sharing.

He turns his head and cracks open one of his eyes. "What're you doing?"

"I'm sitting here until you change, so that I can make sure the fit is right," I tell him as I cross my arms. "That's my job, remember?"

"At least leave so that I can change," he mumbles out.

"Yoongi-Ah, you have absolutely nothing that I haven't already seen in the past two years."

"You know that I don't like showing that much skin to people," he tells me. "Why do you think that I don't want to wear this?"

"But people like your skin, Yoongi," I tell him. I sit up a little on the couch so that I can look at him.

"You?" he asks me.

"What?"

"Do you like my skin?" he quirked an eyebrow at me.

"I...umm...you....I..." God. Why did I always feel so flustered around him?

"Oh relax," he says, rolling his eyes again and leaning his head back against the chair. "I'm messing with you."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You're an ass."

"Now that is a piece of my skin that you have never seen before," He tells me with a laugh.

I roll my eyes at him again and stand up. "Just change your damn clothes, or I am going to go and find Joon and sic him on you. Got it?" I huff as I walk out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

"Hey!" Hobi says, walking down the hallway and giving me one his infamous sunshine smiles.

"Hi." I grumble.

"What's wrong, Cassi?" he asks me with a frown.

"You know what's wrong, Hobi," I tell him, trying to walk past him in the hallway.

He won't let me, though. He reaches out to grab my elbow and spin me towards him. "Yoongi again?"

"Of course," I say. "What else? He's the only part of my job that I don't like. Why he always has to be so rude and difficult to me, I have no idea."

"Have you stopped to consider the idea that maybe he likes you?"

"Likes me?" I ask, and Hobi nods. "Likes me, likes me?" He nods again. "Dude, he doesn't even like me as a person, let alone in any other way. I swear that man just lives to piss me off."

Hobi sighs and reaches up to run a hand through his fluffy rose gold-colored hair. "And I swear, you both live to annoy me with your obliviousness."

"Obliviousness?" I ask him. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

"You like him, too," he tells me in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I do not like Min Yoongi," I tell him. "The only thing that I would like, would be to throw him through a window."

"Sure," Hobi says. He starts walking backwards towards he and Yoongi's dressing room, holding his hands out to the sides. "You keep telling yourself that."

I frowned at him as he turned to walk into the room, shutting the door behind him, then I turned to head back down the hallway and as far away from Min Yoongi as I could get.

The only place that I could find without any other people was the restroom. I walked in and locked the door, then sat down on the closed lid of the toilet.

Yoongi likes me? Yeah right. He likes me about as far as he can throw Jungkook. What the hell was Hobi thinking? Likes me. Good Lord.

I rolled my eyes and pulled out my phone, opening the soulmate app that I had downloaded last week.

Everyone on earth has a soulmate. They are born with matching markings somewhere on their skin. It is next to impossible to find each other, though, because the marks are the only real clue that you get. So, about 3 years ago, somebody created a database and app, where you can take a picture of yours and upload it to, hopefully, find the person whose markings matched yours.

My mark looks like a star. It's outlined in black and has what looks like a blue and purple galaxy inside of it. It kinda looks like it was painted with watercolors. It sat right on the crest of my hip. It really wasn't a surprise that mine looked like a star, since my name was Cassiopeia. Though my mother insists that she already had that name picked out before they saw my soulmate mark.

I don't know why it had taken me so long to download the app and upload a picture of my star. I guess that I was just busy focusing on my work. Especially when I was hired as the main stylist of Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi, better known as J-Hope and Suga of BTS, the world-famous K-Pop group. I just really hadn't had the time to focus on finding my soulmate.

But at 31-years-old, as my mother loved to point out, I wasn't getting any younger, and at the insistence of my best friend, I had finally caved and downloaded the app last week.

I'm Korean-American, but went back to my mom's hometown of Seoul for college. Growing up, I had been there many times to visit my mom's family, and I had fallen in love with South Korea. After I graduated college, I just never left. I got an apartment, I got a dog, and I felt settled and happy with my life. Ga-Ram and I had been friends since we were little. Technically, she's my cousin, but we preferred to just call each other 'best friend' because it seemed more meaningful.

Looking through the app, I got a notification from it, telling me that there was a new feature. You could now search for certain words, shapes, or symbols to better find your match. Huh. Seems like that would have been a good feature to start with. Wonder why it took them so long to add it?

I pulled up the new search feature and started to type out 'star.' Before I could finish, I got another notification from the app. Somebody wanted to chat with me. I clicked on it to see who it was.

Giyoon: Hi.

HipStar: Hello.

Giyoon: Umm...This is awkward, but I think that our soulmate marks match.

HipStar: Oh. Do they? Can you show me yours?

Giyoon: It's on my profile, just like everyone else's.

HipStar: Oh. Duh. I'm sorry. Hang on.

I went to his profile to look, and sure enough, his did seem to match mine. Or more...mine seemed like it would fit inside of his. He had the same black outline, but inside of the star showed nothing but pale skin. Around his star, though, was the familiar blue and purple, watercolor galaxy that filled in mine.

HipStar: You're right. It does seem like yours matches mine.

I waited a few minutes for a response, but the chat box said that he hadn't even read it, yet. I put my phone back in my pocket and got up to go and try to face Yoongi again. This stranger might be my soulmate, but I still had a job to do.

Walking back down the hallway, I knocked on the door to the dressing room. It opened instantly to reveal Hobi and his smile.

"Cassi! You're back!" He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back into the room. "Thank God. I can't get this to stay closed." He fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt and then shrugged.

I reached out to try and fix it myself, but it wouldn't stay closed. "Do you want me to sew it closed, or are you okay with having that many buttons opened?

"Sew it closed," Yoongi said from his chair. "He's not Jimin."

"I'm also not a grandpa like you," He tosses at Yoongi with an annoyed tone. "I'll leave it like this."

Yoongi groans and rolls his eyes.

I glance at him. "I see you finally got dressed."

"I wasn't given a choice," he says as he stands up. "I had two annoying people threaten me with Namjoon."

"Annoying?" Hobi asks him. "This is how you speak of your best friend?"

"Friend," Yoongi corrects him as he leans from side-to-side to stretch a little. "We're friends. Not teenage girls."

"Oh whatever," Hobi says as he sits on the couch and throws a pillow at Yoongi. "We're best friends, and you know it."

Yoongi just shakes his head, but doesn't correct him. It's not as if the whole world doesn't know that these two are best friends. Many times, I have heard Yoongi say that he feeds off of Hobi's energy. We all kinda do, really, but sometimes it almost seems like Yoongi needs Hobi to survive. It was cute, if you thought about it, though Yoongi would never admit to it.

I walked over to stand in front of Yoongi, holding my hands up in front of him. "Can I?"

He shrugged and nodded his head. Yoongi really didn't like to be touched. The only person he didn't yell at for touching him was Hobi, so I always made sure to ask him first. I had learned my lesson with that one. It might have taken me seven or eight times of being yelled at, but I did, eventually, learn.

I reached up around his neck to adjust the collar of his black shirt. My fingers moved along the pale skin there. It was soft, just like the rest of his skin. I had touched enough of it over the past two years to know. When I pulled my hands around to the front to adjust the black leather jacket over his shirt, I looked up to see him staring at me.

"What?" I asked him.

"Nothing," he said, then he rocked his head a little. "Okay, something. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For always asking first," he tells me. "Not everybody does that."

"Well you yelled at me enough, when I started this job, that I got the point," I say. I move my hands down to his waist, trying different ways to let the shirt lay. Tucked in? Untucked? Half-tucked? Hmmm....

"I never yelled at you," he told me.

"Dude. You yell at me all of the time," I say with a laugh. "Hell, you yelled at me half an hour ago."

"I wasn't really yelling," he said with a frown. "I was just stating my opinion on your choice of clothing for me."

"You were yelling at me that it showed too much skin," I told him. "And that you refused to wear it. But lookie here...all dressed in it and skin nice and covered, hidden from the world."

"You might have been right," he says. Weird. He's never told me that before. "It didn't show too much. Maybe I'm just paranoid because of what you've had me wear in the past."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, leaving his shirt untucked. "Yoongi, you act like I try to dress you in a speedo all of the time. While I don't think that the rest of the world would mind that, I would never do that to you. I know you and what you like by now."

"You don't know me," he mumbles under his breath. It's soft, but I'm close enough to hear him. "Nobody really knows me."

I roll my eyes at him again and go to fix the cuff of his jacket, but he grumbles and pulls his arm away from me. "I've got it."

"It's my job, Yoongi. Just let m-"

"I said that I've got it!" he almost yells at me.

"See? Yelling. When all that I'm trying to do is help."

Just then, Namjoon sticks his head in the room. "If you two are done fighting, we're due on stage."

Yoongi and I both shoot him a glare and speak at the same time.

"We're not fighting!"

********************************************************

A/N: I swear....every time I start a new story, another one jumps into my head. I guess that I'm gonna have to try to write this one along with my JK and Hobi one. Should be interesting with my ADHD. Oh well! This one was in my head and I just had to get it out!

If you've read my other stories, then you know that I love to add a little sunshine to the end of each chapter. This story will obviously have each chapter ending with the beautiful, gummy smile of our sweet Suga. Please enjoy and stay healthy, my friends. And warm. We have gotten over a foot of snow in the past 24 hours. It's miserable. I really hate snow.--------------Kat