Work Text:
hi!
that’s the single word that yoongi’s been staring at for the past fifteen minutes.
his morning had been going fine. more than fine, even, it was perfectly normal. he had woken up at nine (like always), performed his daily morning routine (like always), put on his outfit for the day (like always), and was just going to put his watch on (like always) before he left the house to meet namjoon to discuss their project.
unfortunately, wearing his watch required yoongi to flip his wrist around to fasten the strap. and there laid the one word that’s caused his world to come to a temporary stop.
yoongi had tried rubbing it off, but his pale skin only turned painful and red, so he knows it can’t have been hoseok playing a prank on him.
so there it is: the first sign of his soulmate interacting with him, on the underside of his left wrist.
this is information that yoongi doesn’t know how to take in. not that he was ever big on soulmates, but for a year after his eighteenth birthday he had written diligently every single day, waiting for his soulmate to reply. on every single part of his body, at differing times. but there was never a reply, not even a scribble. when he finally gave up trying, he had grumbled, declaring that if someone really wanted to get together with his lazy ass then they would have to come find him instead. now that it’s happened, yoongi is twenty-two and jaded, with priorities bigger than freaking out over someone’s that’s just talked to him for the first time.
so he does the most reasonable thing at that moment: slip on that watch, and get out of his house immediately.
---
the café that he meets namjoon at is relatively new, so there isn’t too much of a crowd even though it’s located on a busy street. namjoon’s already settled in his seat when he arrives, head buried deep in his laptop. when yoongi places his order and gets into the seat opposite namjoon, he still hasn’t looked up.
“do you know that there’s a COME HOME BY 5 written on your cheek,” yoongi states offhandedly as he grabs his own laptop out of its sleeve, unflinching when namjoon sits right back up, facial expression almost comical as he checks his reflection in his phone.
“seokjin hyung is mean,” namjoon sniffles, tapping away furiously on his phone, “i don’t reply to one text and he makes a big deal out of it.”
almost immediately, the inscription disappears, but it’s replaced with a big red heart that looks like it’s coloured in by a pre-schooler. yoongi decides to keep mum about this. “at least you know he cares.”
when yoongi met namjoon in university he was already together with seokjin, long before their hearts thumped the same beat and their minds became one. it was so rare to find soulmates bound together before they turned eighteen and were able to communicate via the writings on their skin; so rare that people would call them either lucky or a miracle. and as cheesy as it sounds, yoongi thinks that they’re a match made in heaven – only a fool wouldn’t be able to see these two puzzle pieces fit together perfectly.
his thoughts are disrupted by the waiter, who brings his order to the table. his side profile is pretty, yoongi notes, as he places his coffee and waffles down cautiously. when the waiter draws back, yoongi observes large eyes, a slim face and a wide smile that complements his youthful appearance.
“please enjoy, sir,” the waiter says with a polite bow, and walks back to the counter. yoongi’s eyes follow the mop of black hair for a while, bobbing around, doing nothing in particular, until he feels other eyes on him. namjoon is grinning unabashedly.
“do you like what you see, hyung?”
“yeah, the DON’T BE LATE on your forehead really complements your skin,” yoongi replies, reaching out for his cup of coffee amusedly as namjoon shrieks once again.
---
yoongi manages to put away the incident in the morning until he gets home in the evening, when he removes his watch. the hi! is still written there, stubbornly not budging when yoongi tries to erase it again. it seems like his soulmate is actually keen on getting to know him. what a reversal.
yoongi ponders about it for a second, and goes to his study table to grab a marker. then, he writes a simple question mark next to the word.
it takes a few seconds, but suddenly yoongi sees his question mark being circled haphazardly multiple times, like his soulmate is actually excited. a sentence spells out, stroke by stroke, in front of yoongi’s eyes:
you’re alive!!!
yoongi has seen it happen with his friends, but personally witnessing having something being written on him is a completely different feeling. there’s a slight tickling, tingling sensation as the inscription appears, but it’s only slightly, and under the skin, barely there. it’s a refreshing feeling.
what, were you hoping i died instead?
a moment of silence.
no, of course not is scribbled hastily, but you didn’t reply and i was worried.
yoongi scoffs. it’s only been, what, half a day? his supposed other half was missing in action for years.
you didn’t reply me for years. this is nothing.
…please don’t tell me you’re an old, balding man.
not nearly old enough to be balding, but old, nonetheless.
really??? i just turned eighteen recently, so i’m really hoping i’m not bonded to someone’s grandpa…
yoongi nods to himself with realization. no wonder he never found his soulmate so many years ago; turns out the latter wasn’t even of age.
i’m not a grandpa, but apparently i’m a cradle robber.
wait so how old are you?
not gonna tell you.
name?
no
he can almost feel the frustration inking through his skin, and his mouth loosens up to let out a small chuckle.
why!!! :-(
because you deserve to wait as well.
it takes a few minutes too long for his soulmate to reply, but it makes him burst out laughing on his couch when he sees the badly drawn devil on his upper right arm. the single word MEANIE accompanies it.
never said i wasn’t, yoongi taunts, feeling relatively less apprehensive about this new and sudden change.
---
as his soulmate had aptly written, in big, bolded letters, min yoongi was indeed, a meanie. most people, once discovered the existence of each other, would immediately exchange numbers and basic personal particulars, and quickly settle on a place to meet up as soon as possible. but min yoongi wasn’t most people; he was a petty person who was determined to make his other half suffer at least half of what he had as he waited in vain for four years. and frankly speaking, his soulmate should be grateful that he’s even replying to his messages instead of following his first instinct of ignoring.
but of course, he isn’t all that bad. sometimes, he does give clear answers (“can i at least know ur gender :-(“ “male” “oh cool same!!!!! :-D”). sometimes, he gets outwitted (“what school do you go to?” “not telling” “so you do go to school!!! you’re not that old”). most of the time, he provides the vaguest of vague answers, that he might as well have not replied.
but if yoongi seems disinterested, his soulmate is twice as interested, not letting yoongi’s tight lips deter him from telling yoongi all about his day, from him dozing off during lectures to his subpar success in the kitchen. several times, yoongi will wake up past noon, only to see flowers drawn with magnificent detail, climbing all the way up his arm, too beautiful to be called doodling.
nice doodling, kid
will this allow me access to your name?
:-)
his soulmate seems nice, artistic, and fairly chatty, and it’s a terribly asshole move to keep him waiting, but yoongi’s lips find themselves quirking upwards whenever his soulmate keeps pressing him for more information about him, even if it’s to no avail. it isn’t an immediate nor conscious realization, but yoongi finds himself anticipating the fresh minty feeling on his skin, painting words and pictures that belongs to only them, for them alone.
finally, yoongi understands the appeal of doodling on your skin all day long: it doesn’t only tickle his skin, but also his heart.
---
good luck for your test today, kid.
thankssss ♡♡♡
---
the door chimes open, signalling the arrival of another customer, and a gust of cold wind rushes in. yoongi pulls his jacket a little closer to his body. the november weather was unrelenting, and despite taking up the warmest spot in the café – the table right next to the counter – the cold had still managed to find its way into this corner.
yoongi had returned to the café a couple of times after his meeting with namjoon, mostly because it carried a calming and quaint ambience that allowed him to submerge himself deep into work without getting distracted. it helps that the food and drinks weren’t too pricey as well.
a hand settles a cup of black coffee down onto his table. yoongi looks up to see the same waiter as before, same welcoming smile etched on his face. “thanks, kid,” he mutters, squinting a little to make out jeon jeongguk on his tiny nametag.
“kid?” the waiter says, almost incredulous, back straightening up, but he immediately turns red with embarrassment when yoongi merely arches an eyebrow lazily at him.
“sorry,” he says sheepishly, bowing as he walks backwards towards the counter, “someone calls me that.”
this jeon jeongguk is one strange person. “okay… kid.”
he goes back to staring at his laptop, but it doesn’t take him long to look up from it irritably. there are two boys, obviously not employees, standing around the counter, making far too much noise for a quiet café as such, fussing over jeon jeongguk.
“has he told you anything yet?” one of them asks loudly. at least jeongguk has the decency to look like he has the worst friends in the world, sentiments which yoongi share at the same moment. how dare they disrupt him so callously like that.
“no, but hyung, it’s okay,” jeongguk hisses, smacking his friend on the shoulder. his other friend whines, “but jeonggukie, it’s been a month. he’s so mean, i don’t like him already.”
“i know what to do,” the first friend quips cheerfully, grabbing jeongguk’s right hand. ignoring his yelps of protest, he grabs a marker from the counter and writes something down.
“you are a fool for not wanting me,” his friend verbalizes, looking obviously satisfied with his handiwork. jeongguk looks ready to strangle the hell out of him.
in an instant, yoongi feels the minty tingling under his skin that’s only become familiar with time. when he ducks down to see the new message – not before giving the boys a disapproving glare for their ruckus – it’s not exactly what he had expected to see.
you are a fool for not wanting me.
he quickly hides his right hand under the table, head feeling like it’s filled with more gums than brains, and furtively glances around. no one seems to have noticed. especially not the three boys, deep in their own conversation.
the words stare back at him, mocking him in its bright purple glory. yoongi sighs, running his free hand through his hair. of course he would be the one who would find out first, despite being the least interested of the both. of course he would have to be the one to walk up to jeongguk and break the news to him.
but what’s the fun in that, right?
when jeongguk returns from the bathroom, hand now free from taehyung’s horrid writing, he finds the table next to the counter empty, coffee cup half full.
---
it’s late at night when yoongi decides to finally put his plans to action.
jeon jeongguk, he writes, each stroke as neat as possible. a few minutes later, he gets his predicted reply.
???????? HOW DO YOU KNOW ?????????
magic, he squeezes the word into a section of his forearm where jeongguk hasn’t littered a question mark yet.
jeongguk’s handwriting is scurried, like it sometimes is when he’s in a rush. are you stalking me?
nope, he scribbles, an unknowing smile creeping up his face, heart suddenly wholesome and warm, but i have good hearing. talk softer, next time.
---
yoongi has his own share of fun messing with jeongguk. he doesn’t go to the café for a whole week, just to lay low and rid jeongguk of any suspicion that it’s him. when he does go, it’s often with a friend or two, allowing him to occasionally get a glimpse of jeongguk hard at work without looking too obvious. when jeongguk serves them, he tries his best to school his expressions to being as uncaring as he usually is.
when he goes there alone, he lets himself look at jeongguk a little longer: the slight crease in his forehead when he concentrated on making drinks, his relaxed posture as he slouches at the counter, and his smile, his goddamn smile that’s brighter than his own pale skin, that jeongguk flashes at every single customer in the café. it’s the littlest things that makes yoongi realize that he doesn’t only anticipate the matching secrets on their skin, but also their first, true meeting.
what happened to your hand, yoongi asks one day after seeing his left hand bandaged up.
scalded :-(
time to quit work, kid, he replies whilst opening up a google search on how to treat such wounds.
so you’ve visited the café??? what’s your favourite thing on the menu?
this question has yoongi stifling a laugh behind his palm. it’s not an answer that typically screams min yoongi, but it doesn’t take him long to think of it and scribble it down, quick and simple.
you.
---
it’s been weeks, and even the best game masters get tired of waiting.
i’m getting bored. will you ever find me?, he teases. jeongguk only replies with a rough sketch of a man getting beaten up by another man.
it’s not that yoongi still held that petty grudge that he had when it first started out – it’s been nearly two months, and he’s long forgotten what it’s like to have clear, bare skin. but as much as he wants to strike a conversation with jeongguk without feeling like he’s hiding a dark secret, the rules of the game – his game – still have to be followed.
he’s just going to have to make it more obvious.
---
business has started to pick up in the café, so when yoongi steps into it with hoseok, the crowd is bigger than usual. still, they manage to grab a seat at the table by the window.
“hyung, i know you, and i know you’re not going to get any work done with this many people moving about,” hoseok points out. yoongi merely shoos him away to order for both of them.
it isn’t as if yoongi is planning to get his work done today, anyway. he lifts his head up and scans the café, eyes falling onto jeongguk clearing tables.
you look good today, kid, yoongi writes onto his palm, where jeongguk is sure to notice immediately. he pretends to fiddle on his phone as he waits for hoseok to come back. from his peripheral vision, he can see jeongguk turning in circles frantically, looking around. he forces his smile back down.
a few minutes later, jeongguk appears quietly, holding two drinks in both hands. his usual charismatic and blinding smile is instead replaced with scrunched brows and dark eyes.
jeongguk puts the drinks down a little more forcefully than he could have. then he turns to yoongi, and says:
“hi, are you my soulmate?”
the sound of the loud chattering surrounding them, as well as hoseok’s sputtering at the sight unfolding before him turns muffled all of the sudden. this whole scene would have considered funny to yoongi, but jeongguk’s staring at him with so much determination and fire in his eyes, unblinking.
he leans forward, chin lying on his crossed fingers, amused. “and what makes you say that?”
jeongguk’s eyes wavers for a split second, as if he’s contemplating just bolting out. “well,” he starts off slowly, still looking at yoongi, “firstly, only you and that lady in red were here when my hand was bandaged. and she isn’t a male.” yoongi nods his head in agreement. “secondly, i saw your palm when i was walking over.” he makes it a point to pull yoongi’s hand towards him, palm outstretched next to his. the matching words in the exact same handwriting don’t lie.
“also, i was really hoping it was you,” he says softly, finally pulling his eyes away to look at the ground instead, cheeks tinted pink.
a bout of silence stretches between them, and hoseok takes it as his cue to leave. “text me about it later, hyung!” he calls out cheekily, no doubt going to tattletale about this to the rest of their mutual friends.
when the door closes, yoongi lets out a whistle. “good job, sherlock. give yourself a pat on the back for finding me.”
“you’re an asshole, did you know that?” jeongguk still has his fist balled up, looking like he’s going to cry.
yoongi knows he’s gone too far, teasing the poor boy for so long. but no one said finding yoongi was going to be easy.
now that his soulmate’s right in front of him, it’s all going to change, hopefully for the better. a genuine and open gummy smile graces his face. “i’m not ‘an asshole’,” he says, gesturing for jeongguk to take hoseok’s seat across him, “but i’m min yoongi. nice to meet you.”