Archive of Our Own ^beta

No one really knows how it works.

The philosophy bigwigs toss their theories out there, and the science frontrunners test it from every angle they can. The brain scans, surveys, and blood tests come out dry though. Little can be done to decrease people’s curiosities about the mysterious dream-related phenomena that suddenly hit the human race about 100 years back.

The main questions revolve around the purposes of the dreams, and why did the phenomena evolve when it did. Most people have come to the conclusion that, with the growing hectic state of the world, the dreams are what help you complete yourself. With that, you can begin along the road of true happiness. Funny thing that is, because having dreams about someone dying every night for a year is pretty sad. Never mind the fact that this someone is supposed to be your soulmate. It’s really upsetting, in Jimin’s humble opinion.

Jimin's father died of a heart attack in his sleep when Jimin was 13. He woke up for school as he usually did and was surprised to find the kitchen empty. He dragged himself upstairs and found his mother still in bed with silent tears streaming down her face. His father lay just as silently next to her, but with an ashen complexion. She notices Jimin after a minute of him standing there in disbelief and sent a strained smile his way. Jimin still doesn’t understand why she thought a smile was appropriate for that situation.

“He went peacefully, so don’t be so sad,” she told Jimin at the funeral, “he didn’t feel a thing.”

There’s an unwritten rule that people don’t talk about the dreams, even to their own soulmates. Jimin has read too many news headlines about soulmates trying to cheat fate, when fate only comes out as the winner every time. Those headliners only include those who die in the most terrible ways; messy car accidents, slow burning fires, and cold shuddering drownings. So, Jimin sympathizes.

When Jimin was a 15 year old high school sophomore, someone in his class had their first dream. The girl is shaking the morning after, her eyes red and swollen, but she has her bottom lip between her teeth with a fierce gaze. Young and immature, their classmates fire questions her way but she doesn’t answer any of them. She only plants a smile that quivers and says, “he looked nice.”

A year later, a transfer student shows up and everyone knows. The whole class is tense while the two stare at each other, but then the guy smiles something bright and the tension is broken. Jimin is able to chat with the guy a bit when he isn’t with the girl and concludes that, yeah, he is pretty nice.

Right and left, classmates show up with haunted looks, but there’s always still a smile right there. It’s sad, they say, seeing how your loved one dies, but the excitement of meeting them dims that.

In his first year of university, he meets Taehyung. Taehyung was a special case. Unlike the rest of the world, Taehyung has no problem telling people about his dreams, simply because he doesn't actually remember them. Taehyung's confused parents were driven crazy after his two year old self cried every night for a year (not that Taehyung doesn’t drive them crazy till this day, because he certainly does). When Taehyung is three, he meets four year old Hoseok, and they became inseparable ever since.

They’re nauseatingly cute and happy, like every soulmate pair you see in the dramas. But, Taehyung has admitted to Jimin one drunken night that he’s scared. He doesn’t know how long he’ll have Hoseok, or how he will go. He wonders if they’re going to grow old together and die holding hands, or if Hoseok will get shot in a back alley after buying Taehyung’s favourite late night ice cream. Taehyung’s pretty sure it won’t be a quiet death, because he did cry every night.

Jimin thought not knowing would be an ignorant bliss, but now Jimin thinks it’s even more heartbreaking not having that certainty that most people have.

It’s February 16th, Jimin is the ripe age of twenty-two and he has his first dream. He’s running beside a gurney, tears are flooding his vision but he can still see mint green hair streaked with red. There’s an oxygen mask and way too much blood. Jimin’s hands want to reach out and wipe it all away, but then he’s held back by a male nurse just before a flock of hospital personnels moves the gurney into an operating room.

He wakes up, clammy and shaky.

“Mom,” he’s crying over the phone twenty minutes later, “Mom, c-can I come by for a bit?”

His mother has a cup of tea waiting for him, explaining that it was what her mother did for her. It doesn’t really do much, it’s too sweet with the added honey, but then he realizes his sore throat is somewhat less sore after a few sips.

“He…looked so young,” Jimin whispers, “it’s not fair.”

“It never is, Jimin,” his mother reaches over and covers her hand over one of his white knuckled fists, “I’m sorry.”

Which makes no sense. His mother has nothing to apologize for. It’s not her fault that Jimin's soulmate is going to die young and coated in blood.

She suggests a professional counsellor, one who specializes in these circumstances, but Jimin refuses. They don’t have that much money to go around with his father gone anyways. Their only money reserve is for the tuition fund his parents built up for him (at his mother’s urging no doubt, because she knew).

Every night, the dreams start at different time intervals. Sometimes he’s in the ambulance, where the boy is revived a total of four times before they get to the hospital. Sometimes the dreams start right when the gurney is wheeled into the operating room and all Jimin sees is the ‘Operation in Progress’ sign blinking red. Jimin knows, when he wakes from the dreams, that the boy probably dies one last time on that operation table.

It's not easy, but Jimin was beginning to feel like he was adjusting to the dreams. He doesn't actually get a really good look at his soulmate in between the flurry of paramedics, nurses, doctors and medical equipment. The repetition of it is almost numbing.

Just when Jimin tells himself he's become apathetic to the dreams at the six month mark, the dreams start differently. There's a dark starry sky above him, it's cold and snow is melting against the back of his neck. His back sort of hurts too. He slowly bends upwards with a groan and a crowd of people are forming around him on the sidewalk. They’re all staring towards the road and suddenly Jimin is up and running. He’s screaming at the top of his lungs as he rushes towards a body in front of a semi-truck. The mint-hair boy is limp and malleable in Jimin’s arms but his eyes are opening and closing slowly. There is still way too much blood, like every other dream before, but what’s different is his soulmate is actually conscious. His lips move and form sounds that Jimin can’t hear, because fate has decided to reserve them for Jimin of the future. The boy is crying, his eyes begging Jimin for something and it's tearing Jimin apart not knowing what the fuck it is.

“You’re there?” Taehyung asks the next day at lunch time, “Like, you’re actually there when your soulmate dies.”

Jimin curses himself in his mind, because he tries hard to hide everything about his soulmate, but Taehyung is as sharp as razor blade and picks up on any bits and pieces Jimin accidentally spills.

It’s not all that common, to be there when your soulmate dies. It's a less than 50 percent chance, because, with the small exception of the soulmates who die at the same time, one soulmate has to die before the other. Jimin knows he’ll die second, because he’s definitely an active participant during his soulmate’s death. He begs the paramedics throughout the ride to the hospital, and has red stained hands that crust up while he waits outside that damned operating room.

It’s a terrible year. Jimin barely sleeps, his grades are slipping, he’s sinking into depression and time is ticking by so quick. Jimin doesn’t want to meet him. He really doesn’t. It’s painful enough dreaming through the death of someone he doesn’t know, Jimin doesn’t even want to try to imagine what it’ll be like getting to know the pretty boy, with the mint green and blood and tears.

So, he stays in his apartment when it’s February 16th again. He misses class, doesn’t pick up the phone when it rings (even if the caller ID says it’s his mother), and doesn’t answer the door when it knocks. And knocks. And knocks. And knocks— what the fuck, can’t the person on the other side of the door see no one’s home.

“You still have the lights on, idiot!” a irritated voice yells through the door, “do you want your wallet back or not? I wouldn't mind going on a shopping spree on your dime.”

Jimin quickly looks to the little table by the door, where he usually places his wallet and sees that it is bare. Jimin sighs and supposes that, okay, it’s just one person, all he has to do is meet one person. He hopes and hopes while opening the door and shit, it’s him. It’s totally him.

His hair is a faded baby pink though, and his face matches the irritation in his voice, “Finally, thought I’d have to break the door down.”

Jimin is fighting back the tears, because this boy is so pretty and so so young. Jimin quickly reaches forward to snatch the wallet in the boy's hand, but the boy pulls back just before Jimin can grasp it.

“What? No thank you, no anything? Is that how you treat your soulmate?” the boy knits his eyebrows together, “come on, don’t be so sore. I ain’t dead yet.”

‘What a complete asshole,’ is what Jimin thinks. This is supposed to be his other half? This was the guy he cried over so many times?

“Let me in, Jimin,” the boy’s tone goes down a few notches and shivers inexplicably go down Jimin’s spine, “you know we can’t avoid this.”

“H-how’d you know my name?” Jimin whispers. The boy motions to the wallet and promptly shoulders his way past Jimin. He looks around Jimin’s crammed apartment with an assessing hum, kicking off his shoes before sitting down at Jimin’s tiny kitchen table. The boy points to the seat in front of him with hinting eyebrows and drops the wallet on the table.

Jimin closes his front door with a shaky sigh and then they talk.

His name is Min Yoongi and he’s older than Jimin by three years, making him 25. He recently got a contract, working for a big entertainment company, producing tracks for the up-and-coming in the industry. It's a promising future, and although Yoongi is still an asshole, Jimin is finding himself grieving over how little time Yoongi has left.

Jimin talks about how he’s finishing up his accounting degree, which Yoongi laughs at. He says something along the lines of you don’t look like the type, whatever the hell that means. Yoongi pries out personal facts about Jimin, like what his parents are doing, his favourite colours, movies, food, what his friends are like, and what he does in his spare time. Jimin concludes that Yoongi sure talks a lot for someone who sounds like they’re slurring every second word.

They exchange numbers, but really, it was more of a forced exchange. Yoongi's voice chanced to a tone that magically compelled Jimin to unlock his phone, and before Jimin knew it, Yoongi snatches the device away from him, calls his own phone with it and hands it back. Yoongi stands up, saying he has to go and that he’ll text Jimin later. Then he’s simply...gone.

Jimin ignores the texts that come in that day from every one of his contacts, like he's pretending his phone is dead or something, but he makes special note to especially ignore the texts coming from a number he hasn’t saved an ID name for.

It goes like that for a few days, which gets Jimin to be a little hopeful. Maybe Yoongi gets that Jimin wants nothing to do with him. Shame that hope turns out to be false, because he walks home from the bus stop after a night class and sees a pink head of hair sitting in front of his apartment door. Yoongi’s wearing a loose white t-shirt in the summer heat and torn up jeans that are a little on the tight side. Yoongi immediately stands when he sees Jimin down the hallway, keys in hand. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, he only just stares.

Jimin doesn’t say much either as he walks over and unlocks the door. He wants to shut the door with a slam, but his hand leaves the door open. Yoongi trails in after him with a yawn. He kicks off his shoes and looks to the clock hanging in the kitchenette. Jimin decides to just go about his routine as usual; maybe Yoongi could just be a presence in his life. Maybe Jimin and Yoongi can just be and not actually interact.

Jimin is fresh out of the shower, loose and tired, so he heads to his bed. He finds Yoongi sitting on it though. Jimin alternates his gaze between Yoongi and the bed pointedly for a while until Yoongi finally stands up. Thank god. But, just when Jimin is about to cover himself with his blanket, the duvet is risen up again and Yoongi is lying right next to him on his single bed. Jimin is frozen solid, because what the fuck does Yoongi thinks he’s doing?

Yoongi then encircles his arms around Jimin and pulls him close. His hands softly rub up and down Jimin’s back with soothing strokes. Jimin ends up with his nose rubbing against Yoongi’s neck and it smells pretty good. Fresh and clean, with no obnoxious cologne or anything.

“It’ll be okay,” Yoongi is whispering against his head, “whatever happens, it’ll be okay,”

Jimin starts to feel and hear a shuddering mix with Yoongi’s breathing and oh god, Yoongi is crying. Jimin doesn’t know what Yoongi has to cry about, when it’s Jimin who’ll be the one torn apart when Yoongi goes. Either way, Jimin finds his own arms latching tightly onto the back of Yoongi’s shirt and is crying along within the minute.

It takes about a week of Yoongi sleeping over and a week of their tight embraces for Jimin to agree to hang out outside his apartment. Jimin’s pretty much resigned now. Yoongi’s attitude isn’t as harsh as it was when they first met, and Jimin’s starting to wonder if it was something like a defence tactic. Yoongi looks and talks like a tough guy, but his insides are actually a mushy, soft mess of emotions. It's the type of emotions that can’t help but make Yoongi peck at the burns Jimin gets when he's cooking a mediocre meal for the both of them.

Yoongi’s friends are nice. They act as normal as can be, and that’s what strange about it. There’s an undeniable effort they’re putting out, and it confirms that they know Yoongi and him are unconventional for some inexplicable reason.

Taehyung likes Yoongi. Hoseok likes him too. They joke around, drink around, sing around and there’s always smiles all around, but this isn’t getting easier for Jimin at all. Because, he’s right there with them. He’s cracking cheek-busting grins, while playing their drunken games at bars with Yoongi warm by his side.

The winter comes and Jimin is on edge. Yoongi is basically living with him in his crappy apartment now, even though his current pay check could afford much better luxury. Yoongi’s eyes are searching every time they stand too close or whenever they brush past each other. Yoongi wants him, Jimin knows this, but it’s winter and Jimin is waiting for the mint green to show up.

The snow melts and the weather warms. Under blooming blossoms of a scenic walk home, Yoongi kisses him. Jimin resists immediately and pulls back like he’s been stung. Yoongi licks his own lips thoughtfully and sighs something deep. Jimin is so fucking scared because he didn’t expect that denying himself Yoongi like this would hurt so bad. He grips Yoongi’s sleeve tightly when Yoongi goes to turn and walk away. There’s a few moments hanging, where Jimin is wondering what would actually hurt him most. Then, Jimin is leaning forward and kissing Yoongi lightly. Yoongi eagerly opens up and leans in even closer as a response. The feeling of pain in Jimin is quickly replaced with something like a crashing wave.

The walls are down now. They’re always touching, and it’s mostly Jimin initiating. Their first night together was passionate, soft, hot and cold, much like their relationship. Yoongi feels so good and is so good to Jimin all the time. Jimin is trying to make up for his false start and starts to bring meals to Yoongi’s workplace. Jimin kisses him in front of the adoring trainees, so they know what’s up and Yoongi thinks that’s pretty hilarious. Yoongi’s laughing and kneading Jimin’s ass though, so it’s all good.

Jungkook's a sticky trainee that can’t take a hint though. He’s a third wheel and knows it. He’s also apparently the golden trainee due for a debut any day now. So, Yoongi is trying to be on his best behaviour so it’s his track Jungkook picks. Jimin’s not under such restraints, but he tries for Yoongi.

Jungkook hasn’t met his soulmate yet, nor has he had the dreams yet. He’s 21, not quite two years younger than Jimin, but that doesn’t mean Jungkook gives him any respect. It looks like he reserves all that for Yoongi and all his snark for Jimin. Really, fuck his handsome, chiseled, and tall self. (Yoongi agrees, telling Jimin that Jungkook should share some of his height with those less fortunate).

Jimin is on his way to drop off lunch again when he sees Jungkook crossing his arms in front of Yoongi’s studio.

“Then what could it be?” Jungkook leans towards Yoongi with a tightened jaw, “you were a mess for a year, so what’s wrong with him?”

“Fuck off,” Yoongi snarls, “you know it’s not any of your damn business,”

“I’m glad you’re happy and all that, but something is wrong with him, I know it and you know it too,” Jungkook then takes a step back with a sigh and scratches the back of his head, “I’m just worried about both of you, okay? That’s all.”

And then he’s gone down the other end of the hall.

Jimin refuses to meet Yoongi at his studio after that, which signals the start of the descend.

It’s nearing the end of summer and Yoongi comes home with mint hair. Jimin’s heart stutters and Yoongi is racing across the apartment to him because, ‘Jimin, Jiminie, why are you crying?’

Jimin doesn’t say anything and just embraces Yoongi tightly.

The first snow falls to the ground and sticks. Jimin starts having these episodes, and after researching, finds out they’re your run-of-the-mill panic attacks. They get frequent enough that Yoongi isn’t comfortable leaving him alone anymore. He works from home when he can, and tries hard to get Jimin to see a doctor. Jimin refuses though. Yoongi and him fight now, but it always fizzes out quickly enough because they just can’t stay mad at each other for long. They kiss hard, fuck hard, and cry hard together, which wow, they really are perfect for each other, aren’t they?

“Let’s get away somewhere,“ Jimin blurts out after the snow reaches about four centimetres outside, “somewhere warm, without snow.”

Yoongi stops eating for a second and stares at Jimin with his questioning manner of his. He then nods, “sure, whatever you want,”

They book a trip, and a week later they’re lazing by a pool in nothing but swim trunks and Jimin is happy. The food’s good, his panic attacks are gone and Yoongi is cracking his lame ass jokes like he used to.

Yoongi is a little stronger in bed for some reason. There are darkening bruises on Jimin’s wrists when he wakes up the next morning and Yoongi is apologizing. He says something like he’s scared of Jimin slipping away from him.

“Trust me,” Jimin whispers against Yoongi’s lips, “it won’t be me slipping away,” and fuck, that reels Yoongi right back. They’ve never talked about the dreams. Never. They knows it’s the biggest fucking elephant in the relationship, because Yoongi knows something and Jimin obviously knows something too.

Jimin shakes his head, pleading silently for Yoongi to drop it and Yoongi, ever compliant whenever Jimin really means it, does leave it be.

They’re back at their apartment and it’s gotten much colder and there’s even more snow on the ground. Yoongi keeps re-dying his hair mint green because he thinks it compliments his pale skin best. When Yoongi blatantly asks for his opinion, Jimin just shrugs his shoulders and changes the subject.

One day, Jimin is feeling extra bold while at the convenience store. He see a bottle of red hair dye and grabs it along with a conditioner tinted red. He dumps what’s left of their old conditioner and replaces it with a ¼ hair-dye and ¾ conditioner mix.

Yoongi goes to take a shower later that night and it take a few minutes after the shower goes off for Jimin to hear Yoongi’s curses. Jimin rushes in to see Yoongi’s mint green hair replaced with a weird pink and green mess. Yoongi is not pleased and glares at Jimin accusingly, but Jimin is laughing hysterically for more than one reason. He’s so glad; Yoongi definitely did not die with hair that colour.

Jimin is now okay with walking around outside with Yoongi again. The cold burns their cheeks, but their hands are clasped together, warm. Jimin is smiling, eyes roaming to Yoongi’s strange hair dye job because it causes a sense of calmness.

They’ve decided to hail a taxi, because it’s too cold and Yoongi did just land the deal for Jungkook’s debut track. Jimin steps down the curb, without fucking looking and there’s lights, blaring horns, a hard shove and Jimin’s back hits a snow bank.

No, no.

It’s not possible. Yoongi doesn’t have the right hair colour.

Jimin is up and running to the body like he’s seen so many times two years ago and turns Yoongi’s broken body towards him. The blood streaking through his hair is covering up most of the pink and was it actually there this entire time?

“J-Jimin, listen,” Yoongi gurgles, eyes drooping, but Jimin is having the toughest time hearing over his racing pulse, “please, love, don’t do it.” Yoongi is crying now, “If you love me, don’t do it, please.” Jimin is hearing his pleas for the first time, but he still doesn’t understand what Yoongi’s asking for, “you’re so beautiful, be happy, okay? For me?” Yoongi’s eyes then seal shut and Jimin is shaking him, yelling for him to come back. The paramedics show up and the dream cycle foretells everything to a fine Tee.

Yoongi is revived four times on the way to the hospital. He’s wheeled into the operation room and an hour later, the operating doctor comes out and tells Jimin they’ve done the best they could, but he didn’t make it.

Yoongi is dead.

The funeral is a choppy affair. He meets Yoongi’s parents for the first time, and doesn’t really have much to say because they weren't that close to Yoongi anyways. People offer Jimin condolences and hugs, but Jimin is feeling like he’s on the outside looking in. There’s this staleness that sets in and time flies in front of him.

Jimin shuts everyone out after the funeral. His mother calls routinely, leaving concerned voice mails. Taehyung swings by a few times, as do Yoongi’s friends but Jimin keeps his door closed and locked. He’s losing a lot of weight, and a lot of tears.

Two weeks and there’s furious quick knocks on his door. Jimin ignores them, favouring the activity of counting his ceiling tiles for the third time in a row.

“Open the fucking door, Jimin,”

Jimin pushes his head up and stares at the door quizzically, not believing whose voice he’s hearing through the door. So, Jimin stands and opens it to double check. It’s Jungkook all right, and he's clenching a sheet of paper in hand.

“Well, you look like shit.”

“Fuck you,” Jimin hisses with the upmost hate he can put into words…but he doesn’t close the door. Jungkook raises an eyebrow and shoves his way in just like Yoongi first did when they met. The grief in Jimin’s belly swells.

“I was told not to read this unless something happened to Yoongi,” Jungkook said, waving a piece of paper around, “I’m not sure why me, of all people, and not someone, I don’t know, closer to you guys, but I finally decided to read it.”

Jungkook wanders over to Jimin’s fridge and opens it. There’s nothing in there edible enough, and Jungkook definitely gives Jimin a judging look because of it, but fuck Jungkook, why did Jimin let him in?

“Okay, fine, you’re wasting away. I get it, you lost your soulmate not long after you meet him and it sucks,” Jungkook says it so fucking casually and Jimin is so close to punching him in his probably insured cheekbones, “but, you have to know that Yoongi wouldn’t want you to be like this. To the point where he writes me this fucking letter,” Jungkook waves the paper again and, if he would just get to the point so he could leave Jimin alone, that would be great.

“All right, I see you’re about two seconds from kicking me out, so I’m going to tell you something that I shouldn’t,” Jungkook leans forward, “I asked Yoongi, over and over again, about what he dreamed about, because it destroyed him. His songs took a turn and no one actually likes newbies with depressing debut songs.” Jungkook folds the papers in his hands multiple times, almost like he’s growing nervous, “You know, Jimin, he actually ended up telling me. I know now, and it makes sense, so the question is… if I tell you, will it actually change anything?”

Jimin has never seen Jungkook so out of his element. It's a little relieving, seeing cracks in Jungkook's arrogant armour, where the nerves and babbling resides. Jimin knows Jungkook isn't at fault for anything in Yoongi and Jimin's relationship, but it's easier to blame the boy as the spark and reason that started to break them down. As unique of a sight to see, it's not enough for Jimin to want the visit to be prolonged, so if Jungkook would stop talking in riddles and just—

“Jimin, you’re going to kill yourself,” Jungkook whispers, “you’re going to do it somewhere in your apartment, but Yoongi doesn’t go into much detail from there. He was so certain he was going to change that, but—but I’m not so confident. Because if anyone were to change your mind, it’d be him and he’s not here anymore.”

A chill settles with an eerie silence, because yeah, Jimin thought about and entertained the idea of it. He never thought he'd be able to muster up the courage to go through with it, but... but now...

Jimin bites his lips and finally opens his mouth, “if you’re trying to stop me from killing myself, you’re doing a terrible job.” 

Jungkook sighs at that, “I’m just, I’m trying to give you some insight and, I don’t know, some peace of mind before you go. Yoongi…Yoongi didn’t want to meet you at first. The beginning of the dream year was filled with songs about how fucked up soulmates were, and how suicide just passes on the hurt to someone else. I thought he was just trying to be critical of society, but yeah, turns out he was talking about you. Then, he started writing about reaching out and saving people. Those soon turned into some of the most soulful love songs I’ve read and then, he finally met you.”

Fuck. Jimin is working up a sob again, because Yoongi is still dead and six feet under, so why is Jimin falling even more in love with him? Jungkook stops folding the paper in his hand and pauses before dropping it to the kitchen table.

“Just, do it gently, for Yoongi, okay? At least do that for him,”

Jungkook leaves, closing the apartment door behind him lightly. Jimin reaches for the letter with shaking hands and reads it again and again for three more days.

He then looks up quick and painless ways to die. Guns are messy, drugs can be a little hard to come by, the aftermath of ropes isn’t an easy sight to see either. He finally decides on one.

Jimin dresses into something comfy, a loose white wife-beater, with matching white shorts and a grey cardigan that actually belonged to Yoongi. He fills his bathtub up to the brim and sits down. It's glacier cold because Jimin wants to feel the sting. He’s tearing up a bit, shivering in the tub before he realizes Yoongi is probably watching him. So, he sniffs and wipes away his tears. His eyes close and Jimin lets the water cover him entirely.