Chapter Text
Jeon Jeongguk has never been one to rush into things.
Not big things, anyways. Life-changing decisions, and similar. He'll rush into spontaneous adventures, no problem: he’s a borderline adrenaline junkie like that. From bungee-jumping and paragliding, to getting a motorcycle license or having his eyebrow pierced by a friend while they were both perhaps not the most sober.
But the important stuff? Choosing a career path, settling down, finding the other half of his soul, getting his life in order? It'll happen when it happens, is what Jeongguk tells himself.
Especially the part about soulmates. Because you literally can’t rush fate there. And it’s not an excuse, despite how it may seem. He knows the popular thing to do is to plan for it– to be ever-ready, prepared with a self-introduction, an ideal first date spot, a list of questions. To fantasize about meeting your soulmate eagerly, and get butterflies every time you meet someone new. But Jeongguk is not like that.
He's not avoiding it. He;s not the type that wants to sleep around as much as possible before they get ‘chained down’ forever, like some of his friends are. No. It’s the complete opposite. Jeongguk is just a bigger romantic than most realize, and he believes that he shouldn't mess with what fate has in store for him.
He believes the universe will do him right, even without him trying. He believes it will bring him a soulmate worth loving to death and back. He believes that, even if he is caught unawares, no matter how or when or why it happens, his first meeting with his soulmate will be perfect in its own right. And they can go from there.
And yet, here's how it happens:
On a regular old Thursday, too late in the day to be called morning, because Jeongguk stayed up way too late last night playing Overwatch with Mingyu, and then decided he might as well skip all his classes. He does it guilt-free, because he’s all caught up on his assignments, but even if he weren’t, his teachers love him. He’s sure they’d agree he deserves a mental health break. They’re probably used to it, workinging at an arts college and everything.
And thus, Jeongguk walks out of his student housing apartment with a pep in his step, facing the actual sun for the first time in what feels like weeks, ready to face the day.
Really, he only has himself to blame for all the decisions leading up to him being in the right (wrong?) place at the right (wrong?) time.
No matter when Jeongguk wakes up, the first thing on his agenda is certain– coffee. Coffee from a very specific coffee shop. The coffee shop, as it will soon become known to him. He's pretty much a regular, as are most of the students he knows, the store conveniently located halfway between his goshiwon and campus, and as he steps in, it's all familiar. The smell of burnt coffee beans, diluted by the fresh air from the always-open windows. The lightbulb that never seems to work in the corner. The baristas that are done with everyone's shit, not paid enough to put on a smile for college kids that, frankly, do not care. It's not a fancy, instagrammable place like the ones downtown by any means, but it’s cheap, and it works for Jeongguk.
The coffee is serviceable. Good, even, on a good day.
And he cares little for interior design, of course, because it’s all gray to him. Literally.
Finding your soulmate is the only way to cure color blindness. If you can call something that affects 100% of the population, and gets resolved in pretty much all cases, a ‘sickness’ with a ‘cure’. It's simultaneously pedestrian, as boring as talking to someone about the weather, and the most fascinating thing a human being can experience. So you can imagine how prevalent the topic is in almost every walk of life.
Soulmates.
Touching someone and feeling that spark. Seeing the world burst alight with color, same, yet irrevocably different. Falling in love, finding your perfect match, your life partner, finally being complete… It’s the ideal that they all revolve around. The best feeling in the world.
At least, that's how all the stories describe it. That's how all witness accounts describe it. Jeongguk has never known an exception to the rule. Nor have most people.
Of course, extreme cases exist– sad stories of one losing a soulmate, or dying of old age still seeing only gray, but they're few and far between. And everyone who actually gets to meet their soulmate, even if skeptical at first, has to contend that the universe has provided them with a perfect life partner.
Really, it's pretty much a perfect system. Only a handful of people past their mid-twenties were still single, by the latest census. A handful. And all of those who weren’t, who found their match successfully, reported nothing but a happy relationship status. It’s the way it’s always been. Nothing shocking about it.
Most of Jeongguk’s friends are still single. They’re still young enough for that to be the case. And the ones that aren't– well, Jeongguk can’t say he doesn’t feel jealous, sometimes. Of how great it seems. How a person starts glowing, when they're in love and happy. He’d be lying if he said he wasn't excited to get to experience it himself.
But he's not in a rush. For now, he is content with his freedom. He's happy with his life, and, hey, he’s still in college. Barely out of his teens. His classes and his art and his games and all his hobbies are more than enough to keep him satisfied– he doesn't really need anything or anyone barging in to change his routines. Not just yet.
He inches forward in line, lost in thought. Wondering whether or not he should skip the gym today, fiddling with finding the exact change for his iced americano– yuck, but he can't afford to splurge– and he glances idly up at the sign above the counter, naming the coffee shop. Serendipity. He’s never paid much mind to it before, but now, as his eyes land on the cursive letters, glowing a lighter gray than the rest of the background, Jeongguk suddenly feels…
It.
Eerie and out of nowhere. Like a ghost of a touch. Almost as if someone threw something at him, and it bounced off of his skin before falling down. But looking at the floor reveals nothing. He'd be inclined to believe he imagined it, but…
There it is again. Pinpricks on the nape of his neck, leaving a trail of fire. Blazing hot, as if stung.
Jeongguk turns sharply, on reflex, searching behind him for the source of the feeling but… Nothing. No one. Just your regular college students, milling about, with a few people looking at him weirdly, but no one close enough to touch. No one sticks out as notable. Jeongguk ducks his head down, sheepish, and turns back around.
The line moves, and he steps forward, expecting the feeling to go away but– no.
His neck starts burning again as soon as he's not looking. A sensation coursing over his skin, giving him goosebumps, like a weird premonition in the dark of the night. Chills. Almost a physical sensation. Burning. He reaches up and touches, trying to appear inconspicuous about it, but… finds nothing. Obviously. Yet his skin is growing warm, and his heart is, inexplicably, speeding up.
He gulps. It's like a premonition, or a jamais vu, perhaps, and he's so out of sorts when he finally reaches the counter that he has to take a second to compose himself and remember how to talk. He stutters out his order, feeling hot under the collar, bothered and uncomfortable and… foreboding.
As he’s handing over the cash, he throws one last cursory glance over his shoulder, not expecting anything, not expecting anyone to catch his eye, but that's when he sees–
Him.
Jeongguk stops in his tracks. Freezes, mid-movement, much to the displeasure of the people around him, not that Jeongguk would care much even if he could notice them. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t notice anything around him right now. Because there, across the space of the coffee shop, at a table right near the entrance, sits the most beautiful man Jeongguk has ever set eyes upon. Yes. That pretty.
He feels, actually feels the breath being punched out of his lungs at the sight. He stumbles over thin air, fingers growing numb, eyelids forgetting to blink lest he lose sight of the vision before him.
The boy looks like he just stepped out of a painting. Like an ancient marble sculpture came to life, crafted lovingly with blood sweat and tears, years poured into getting every detail just right, all of it culminating in the ideal of human beauty. His hair, falling over his forehead to kiss his eyebrows. The perfect slope of his plump cheeks. The lips protruding in the very center, finishing the picture of the cherub that stole Jeongguk's heart in an instant.
Half the coffee shop stands between them, a mile-deep chasm, but it seems to Jeongguk like he'd always be able to locate him instantly, even in a crowd of thousands. Millions. Seems impossible that anyone could ever miss that face. Or ever look away from it, for that matter. It's only been a few seconds, but Jeongguk’s eyes feel permanently glued to the other man, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He’s sure he will be dreaming about him tonight. Thinking about him for the rest of his life. Certain the boy will be haunting his every thought, from now until the end of time.
Jeongguk wants to come closer, study him in detail, learn every millimeter of him like the back of his hand. Until the visage is carved into the backs of Jeongguk's eyelids, until he is confident he will never forget, even if they part ways. And yet still, he would like to keep looking.
The worst part is, the boy looks up from his table, and their eyes meet.
And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. Like a sword piercing through Jeongguk's stomach. Like a matchstick lit, burning him up in flames. The boy blinks, and Jeongguk loses all sense of being for the split-second they're not looking at each other. Like he doesn't exist, can't exist, without the boy acknowledging him. Like his very being is dependent on the angel that stands across from him, driving Jeongguk mad, giving him lifeblood.
Jeongguk gulps.
They’re like magnets. Like a gravitational pull. The boy– Earth, and Jeongguk the moon that orbits around him. Except Jeongguk must, must come closer. Needs to be closer, needs to see, to feel, if the air will sizzle between them like electricity when they stand face to face. He needs to find out. Even if it dooms them all.
Someone clears their throat and Jeongguk snaps out of it, moving to the drink pickup counter in a hurried daze. His eyes are back where they were in an instant.
See, soulmates were always a foreign concept to Jeongguk.
In that he doesn’t think about them, besides the silent assurance he will find his own one day.
But it was always hard for him to imagine his perfect match. Hard to imagine the type of face he would wake up next to for the rest of his life, hard to believe he would fall so thoroughly for someone and love every single one of their quirks.
But now, it’s almost as if… As if he can feel it all coming. Right at his fingertips.
No. No, you’re not supposed to feel who your soulmate is before you touch them. Jeongguk has never heard of it happening. Never. Not even in the fairy tales, not even in the overly romantic, sugary movies, not even in wedding speeches or even the most enviable how-we-met stories– there is just no reported evidence, scientific or experiential, that has ever even hinted at people knowing before they’re supposed to. It’s always been all– locked doors and gloves, letters and long distance friendships, never knowing, never suspecting a thing, until that touch, that grand, prophesied, perfect touch happens and changes everything.
And yet, Jeongguk’s pretty boy looks at him. And doesn’t look away.
His hair is light. Jeongguk can tell that much. Bleached, probably. Jeongguk wonders if it’s blonde, or colorful. Wonders if– well. If the boy knows what colorful is. He probably does. Who would dye their hair without being able to see it, anyway? Jeongguk is probably just– just imagining things, and he won't even get to find out. Yeah, that sounds about right. He'll walk right out of the coffee shop, continue with his day, they'll part ways and that'll be the end of it. Yup.
With great pains, Jeongguk turns around when his name is called, and picks up his coffee.
“Hey,” he says, before he can psych himself out of it, grabbing the attention of the overworked-looking barista. “Can I have a cookie as well?”
A cookie is good. It’s neutral. Everyone likes a cookie. He gestures to one of the single-packaged ones on top of a clear display case. He knows he technically has to go back to the register and pay for it, but he also knows the students around here, and with just enough luck–
“Just take it, man,” the barista says, barely even looking at Jeongguk as he begins working on another order. “Just put something in the tip jar.”
Jeongguk grins. He was planning to, anyway. He grabs a cookie, and tips more than enough to cover both it and the coffee. He’s in a good mood for some reason.
The reason is still there when he turns back around. Still looking as gorgeous as ever. Sitting at a raggedy booth like he’s sitting on a throne, all princely and delicate and demure. And still looking at Jeongguk.
Right.
His nerves are back full force, especially now, with the stupid, stupid plan of gifting him the cookie– who even does that, to a literal stranger, what the fuck, Jeongguk– but he knows he must push through it. Something inside him is compelling him to.
So he takes a step.
And another one.
His legs feel like a baby deer’s, precarious, but also as heavy as two tanks, and every step is a battle of its own as he inches closer, and closer, with a single-track mind, focused solely on his target, his goal. The rest of the world fades away into background noise, and all Jeongguk can see is him.
Him, who is looking almost pleased that Jeongguk is approaching him. Who looks almost as anxious as Jeongguk feels, standing up from his seat so they can be eye to eye as the distance between them closes. He, who fiddles with the hem of his oversized sweater, who looks adorable and beautiful and huggable as he waits for Jeongguk, licking over his lower lip in a nervous tick. It pulls into a timid half-smile. And his cheeks are so flushed, even a color blind man can see it.
Jeongguk is so fucked.
And after what feels like an eternity and a millisecond all at once, Jeongguk has made it. They’re facing each other. Less than a foot apart. Time stops, everything quiets, and they stand in a silent vacuum. Just breathing each other in. Jeongguk’s heart titters against his ribcage, struggling to break free. They’re close enough to hear each other whisper. But neither of them opens their mouth.
The other man is shorter than him, Jeongguk notices with satisfaction. Not by a lot, it’s not drastic, but it’s just enough so that Jeongguk has to look down while the man has to look up and, fuck. His eyes are as pretty as the rest of him.
Jeongguk holds out a hand.
It’s customary. Most cultures have developed a system that involves touch as a customary greeting. Out of necessity, more than anything. Upping your own chances for successfully finding your soulmate. It should be taboo, but people are always free to refuse, and if something happens– if the person you’re touching really does turn out to be your soulmate, accommodations are immediately made. (Even if you have a class to attend, or work to do, no one could possibly fault you for ditching any and everything just to meet your newly-found other half.) At a party, or a bar, it’s a good way to indicate you’re interested in someone– even if it ends up being just friendship.
The simple handshake has been inspiration behind many a tale. Jeongguk, for the first time, feels his fingers trembling as they hover in the air.
The boy looks down at Jeongguk’s hand. He thinks for a second, almost as if debating with himself. Jeongguk feels his palms growing clammy with sweat, the right one, waiting for a touch. The left one, holding his coffee cup and the cookie precariously, threatening to drop. But it wouldn’t matter, Jeongguk supposes, not if what he feels turns out to be real.
The boy nods to himself. Gulps. Jeongguk, fine-tuned to him, already enamored, notices. Of course he notices.
He reaches out to shake Jeongguk’s proffered hand. His fingers are stubby, Jeongguk observes with a smile, peeking out from behind a sweater paw as the gap between them closes.
This is it.
The moment stretches, the air between them so tense it could be cut with a knife, and Jeongguk urges time to go on faster, not knowing that he will soon be biting his tongue.
Because just as they're about to touch– matter of fact, just as they do touch, as Jeongguk swears the very atoms at the tips of their very fingertips make contact for a split millisecond–
Someone bumps into Jeongguk, sending his coffee flying everywhere and tumbling him down to the ground, and Jeongguk’s whole world bursts alight in color.
“Hey!” Is the first thing Jeongguk hears. He snapped his eyes shut as the first trickle of color made itself known, as his back collided with the hardwood floor, partially from the impact, partially from how much he wanted it to not be true. This can’t be happening. None of it can. “Watch where you’re going, asshole– Whoa.”
He opens his eyes gingerly and looks down.
Brown. Coffee. Coffee is brown, he’s been told. Brown is all over his shirt. His familiarly white shirt. Staining it a color. Brown.
Brown is not that different from gray, Jeongguk finds, dizzied mind choosing that to focus on instead of– anything else. It’s dark. The floor he’s lying on, he’s pretty sure, is brown. The legs of the chairs surrounding his head are all different shades of brown. The rackety old ceiling fan, when he looks up, is also brown. As is the mold on the corners of the walls.
A lot of the world is brown, Jeongguk realizes. That’s… disappointing.
Huh.
He looks up. The man standing above him is also– brown. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Brown glasses. Brown coat. Brown skin. And he’s staring down at Jeongguk, mouth agape.
“Whoa– you… You're my soulmate!”
Immediately, half of the cafe’s eyes are on them. And great. Just… great. Jeongguk’s soulmate is someone with no noise control. Jeongguk’s soulmate is someone who likes drawing attention to himself.
But that’s fine. That’s–
Jeongguk’s soulmate.
He only now voices the thought.
He doesn’t want to accept it just yet.
So instead of doing anything one should, upon finding their soulmate, anything Jeongguk expected he would do… He can’t even bring himself to look at him. Can’t bring himself to explore the face of his soulmate, not when the face of his… his pretty boy is still so fresh in his mind.
Instead, he looks around the cafe in a daze, silently apologizing for the ruckus they’re making. He hates people’s eyes on him. He silently begs them to stop.
Everyone is staring at them. Even the baristas. All of them dressed in neutrals, in the familiar black and white and so many shades of brown. Their clothes. The machines behind the counter. The signs with the daily special. The display case with the cookies and muffins. It’s all so… brown. Uninteresting. Jeongguk thought finding his soulmate would be a revelation. And it’s not.
There’s only one figure not looking at him, near the counter. A shorter man, with headphones around his neck, waiting to pick up his coffee. Back turned firmly to the spectacle Jeongguk’s made of himself. Most things on him are brown, or black, or white, just like everything else. Except… his beanie. Perched at the top of his head, a shade unfamiliar to Jeongguk. But if he had to guess, he’d say green or blue. It’s refreshing to see.
At least that guy is giving him a break.
It relaxes Jeongguk enough that he finally dares to look properly at his soulmate. And his soulmate – his actual soulmate– is… Well, to put it simply, good-looking.
There’s just no way around it. Perfect, symmetrical features. A pronounced t-zone. Tall. Well-dressed. Jeongguk could easily see him being a model. Or an actor. Or an idol. He could easily imagine that he’s popular on campus. That people fall over themselves trying to shake his hand. Maybe even touch him under other excuses. And here Jeongguk is… on the floor, covered in coffee, embarrassed, still lingering on the thought of another man, and… feeling no attraction at all.
“You’re my soulmate. Oh my god,” the tall, perfectly attractive man speaks again. “Hi. Oh my god! I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Was it hot? I’m so sorry. Some asshole bumped into me.”
Jeongguk keeps staring as the man scrambles, trying to find something– digging into his pockets, looking around, fumbling.
“Ah– wait right here, I’ll get you some napkins.”
And then he’s off, without so much as introducing himself. Without so much as touching Jeongguk again. Which is… fine. Jeongguk wasn’t craving for it, anyway.
He feels… thrown off balance. Like something is wrong. And he knows, he knows it’s all just in his mind, that of course he wasn’t able to feel who his soulmate was from just a look, but… It would’ve been nice. If nothing else, at least to get to know him.
Most of the patrons lose their interest quickly, seeing that they won’t be getting a grand confession or public indecency or anything like that out of the two of them. Jeongguk, still planted on the floor, sneaks a glance to his… his soulmate, and the man seems to be… arguing with the short man at the counter? Well, whatever. As long as he’s decent enough to get Jeongguk a replacement coffee. Because he could really fucking use it.
He could really fucking use going home, actually. Fuck having a good day.
Getting up with a groan, sitting on the floor and peeling his sticky, ruined shirt away from his body, he notices something. About a foot from where he’s sitting, lies the forgotten cookie that was knocked out of his hand on impact.
The cookie that he was going to give to… pretty boy. His not-soulmate.
Jeongguk glances back at his actual soulmate. He’s still at the counter, still talking to the shorter man. The barista sets down two coffee cups in front of them. Jeongguk doesn’t have much time.
He gulps, and makes a split-second decision.
He grabs the cookie, wipes the bits of spilt coffee from the packaging onto his shirt– in for a penny, in for a pound, it’s already ruined– and kneels up to present it to the pretty man, sitting at the table right next to Jeongguk’s head.
And– color.
Fuck, he means– fuck. Hair. Color. Ful. Hair. Face. Clothes. Everything.
His breath is stolen from him once again. Eyes wide, drinking up, finally, beauty. Jeongguk’s not too confident on what the color is called, but if he had to guess, red. Or pink. Or orange, maybe, some type of peach shade. He knows it’s one of those, because it matches the darker tone of the man’s blushing cheeks. Jeongguk’s read enough books to know what color those are supposed to be. And everything is monochrome, matching the flush. His hair. More vibrant, yet– his lips. Pink-red lips.
His sweater is striped pink-red too. He’s just– he’s a pop of color in the dullness Jeongguk’s found himself surrounded with, more than ever before, despite being colorblind until five minutes ago. He’s so… sweet, soft, round, and it makes sense that so many fruits are described as having this color, Jeongguk thinks, because he swears the sight of this boy alone has the sugary flavor of cherries and apricots erupting on his tongue. He’s just– sweet. Edible-looking.
Jeongguk realizes he’s staring when the other man exhales softly, a little ‘hyuu’ through his pillowy, glossy lips, and pointedly looks down towards the cookie Jeongguk is still holding proffered.
Right.
“Oh– this, you–” he stumbles over his words, just like he knew he would. But hey, at least it’s not his soulmate he’s embarrassing himself in front of, right? Heh. (He cries a little inside.) “You– please just take it.”
He bows, hoping, and–
The sweet boy looks down at Jeongguk, then into the distance, over Jeongguk’s shoulder, silently, and his gaze sharpens. He scrambles to grab the cookie and shove it in his bag.
Their fingertips brush. (Again?). Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat. The blush intensifies on the boy’s face, and Jeongguk is left unable to tear his eyes away. His mouth is hanging open, he’s pretty sure. And to top it all off, he’s still kneeling on the floor. Like a fool.
“Hey– I brought you some napkins– And another coffee, the barista just gave it to me, haha, can you believe? Anyways– Hi, Jimin– Anyways, the guy that bumped into me is so rude, he barely bothered to say ‘sorry’, what a jerk–”
Jeongguk’s soulmate bulldozes back into his life the same way as before, which might not have been a one time incident, he concludes, and sets their cups down on the table, but Jeongguk’s mind is stuck on one thing.
Jimin.
The table his soulmate put their drinks down on is pretty-boy’s table. He’d said hi to the man, and called him Jimin. Jimin.
So, yeah. Jeongguk learns Jimin’s name before he gets introduced to his soulmate.
He can’t say the fact doesn’t please him, in some twisted way. Jimin. Jimin.
The name is red-pink, just like the man.
“– and I told him to watch where he was going because he couldn’t even look at me for more than two seconds? Like, how does he expect to not bump into people left and right, then? Anyways, here, come, sit with us. I’m sorry about our date, Jimin, but– hey, I just met my soulmate!”
“I can tell,” pretty boy– no, Jimin speaks, smile apparent even without looking, and holy fuck. Even his voice is pink. Even his voice is sweet, pink, filling Jeongguk’s ear with a dulcet melody from only three words. He has to close his eyes not to faint with how perfect it is.
There's an awkward silence while Jeongguk just… sits there, looking at the floor.
“Well?"
He looks up with a start. Two pairs of eyes stare at him– although Jimin looks away as soon as their eyes meet– and… oh. God.
They’re sitting on the same side of the table. Which means Jeongguk has to sit in front of them. Seeing them both. Seeing– seeing Jimin.
He’s honestly not sure if sitting next to him would be preferable or just straight up torture.
“Right,” Jeongguk coughs, and settles himself in. Uncomfortable, and not just because of his ruined shirt. “Hi.”
“Hi,” his soulmate repeats. He has an… attractive smile. He doesn’t seem like an unkind person. Just… not what Jeongguk expected. But he can learn to live with it. Can get used to it. He has to. The universe is never wrong, after all.
The guy stares at him expectantly.
“Oh– right, sorry. I’m Jeongguk.”
His soulmate grins at him.
"I'm Taehyung. I'm an art major. I assume you go here as well?” Jeongguk nods. “Ooh! What do you major in? What year are you in? I'm '95, so a junior. So is Jimin. He's a dance major. He's also my best friend and my roommate so prepare to see a lot more of him, since we're soulmates and all. Hah, I still can't believe it. Say, do you feel any different? I guess the colors are the only change for me."
"... No," Jeongguk says, struggling to tear his eyes away from Jimin, barely processing anything… Taehyung? had said. "No, I don't feel any different."
He does, however. Off-balance and sad. Like he just missed out on something ethereal. Like a mirage passing him by, gone like a breath in the wind. Intangible and indescribable. But it has nothing to do with Taehyung.
"Ah, I can't bear this," Jimin speaks. "It's awkward because of me, isn't it?" Jeongguk falls a little more with each word. Not the substance of the sentence, no, just… the sound.
His voice is like a bee dancing from flower to flower, like honey dripping from a spoon into a perfectly imperfect mound. Like a shooting star lighting up the night sky. It makes Jeongguk's heart titter and… ache for him.
"I'm going to leave. You two get to know each other, okay?"
He starts gathering his things, and Jeongguk speaks up before he knows it.
"No!"
They both look at him.
"I– I mean–"
He doesn't want Jimin to leave. He doesn't want to be alone with Taehyung. Not yet. But how can he explain that? How in the world can he excuse that?
He looks down at his shirt.
"I… I have to go change, anyways. You two have your date and, um–"
Wait, had Taehyung said date?
Oh, god, were they– Were Jeongguk’s soulmate and his… not-soulmate… Dating? Could it be just Jeongguk’s luck?
Taehyung seems to notice the petrified look on Jeongguk’s face and, thankfully, laughs. Loud, boisterous… pretty? It could certainly be called an attractive type of laugh. Jeongguk could learn to love it, surely. Just like every other part of his–
“Oh, that’s just what we call our study sessions. We’re best friends, you know? Platonic soulmates. Gonna have to learn to deal with him if you’re gonna be with me.” Taehyung grins, then whispers to himself, “Spice Girls reference.” Jimin taps his shoulder in consolation.
“I… I can do that,” Jeongguk says. He tries not to let it drip into his voice just how much he means it. “Um. Yeah. You two have your study date and…”
"... And we'll go on a real date, later?" Taehyung asks. Expectant. Hopeful. Excited.
Not as excited as Jeongguk would have thought.
Jeongguk, head full and brain empty, leaves the cafe with an uncomfortably sticky shirt, Taehyung’s contact info in his phone, and the imprint of Jimin’s face in his head.
It's a weird sensation, observing all the colors in the world for the first time. On the street, walking home, trying not to think of how weird and awkward that whole encounter was. The basics– green grass. Blue sky. People’s clothes resembling either or. That beanie– it was blue, after all. And more often than not, he sees another color altogether, a shade of red-pink, reminding Jeongguk of…
In his apartment, he busies himself learning their names, their shades, their associations and– indeed. Jimin's hair was pink peach. He was pink peach.
Jeongguk refrains from telling any of his friends or hyungs about the events of the day just yet. He always thought he would, instantly, but… It's very different when you're actually experiencing it.
Especially if the experience is nothing like you've ever heard described before.
Oh, people run away upon meeting their soulmates. Late for work, or embarrassed to be caught dressed down, or otherwise unprepared to face their feelings– But it always, always, itches at them until they're reunited. Wanting, of course, to get another taste. To be close to their soulmate again, as soon as humanly possible.
Jeongguk… isn't feeling any of that. If he's honest, what he's feeling is dread. And so, on his day off, instead of spending it with his newfound soulmate, instead of doing everything he can to speed up time and fall in love comfortably, he… just… sits at home.
Listening to music. Making art. Some for his classes, some for himself. Distracting himself from his thoughts, delaying facing them for as long as possible.
His drawings are still charcoal on paper, as always. Black on white, as always. But as he lets his mind wander– as he, unthinkingly, recreates flashes of a scene from earlier today… his fingers itch for shades of pink and peach.
That night, he gets a follow request on Instagram. It's from Taehyung.
He accepts and, after debating with himself for a while, follows him back, anxious that Taehyung will try to strike up a conversation immediately. And not only because Jeongguk is not very good at talking through text, even to his friends. No. It's because he thinks talking to this particular stranger will be even worse.
Thankfully, Taehyung doesn’t say anything.
Which leaves Jeongguk free to look through his profile. And it’s… cultivated, to be certain. He has a sizable number of followers, and all of his photos look like professionally taken headshots. Modeling side gig, perhaps? Jeongguk would care more to find out if, a couple of swipes down, he didn’t find Jimin.
More specifically, a selfie of the two of them together. It’s unpolished, slightly blurry, a rare glimpse into Taehyung’s actual personality after a whole feed of PR-worthy shots, and all Jeongguk can focus on is the way Jimin looks when he smiles.
He hadn’t gotten a chance to see it, in the brief interaction they had, and he bets the photo doesn’t hold a handle to the real thing, but it’s still… breathtaking. His plump upper lip, his front tooth that seems slightly chipped, his eyes all scrunched up… His hair is orange– ginger– in the picture, taken several months ago, and Jeongguk finds himself, as if compelled, clicking the username in the caption– chimchim13– eager to see more.
The account is private. His disappointment is tangible.
His finger hovers over the request button for a good, long while. It would be weird, right? He hasn’t even gotten to know Taehyung properly, hasn’t even gone out on a single date with him yet, why would he be trying to follow his friends on Instagram?
... But then again, Jimin had been there with them. It could be seen as romantic. That Jeongguk is trying to get to know more about the people surrounding Taehyung.
He talks himself out of it at the last moment, left with only the small pixels of Jimin's profile picture to stare at, as he goes to sleep unsatisfied.