Chapter Text
The next morning, something happened, or rather didn't happen, that hadn't happened in years. Jimin didn't wake up. Content and sated on kisses and Namjoon's warm body tangled around his, he slept. The sun rose, blaring bright and cheerful through the window, the sun climbed its way up the sky, and Jimin slept. The pointless anxiety that had his eyes flying open just before dawn for the last three years was quiet.
Finally, like a groggy kitten, Jimin stretched and blinked sleepy eyes, smiling when he caught sight of Namjoon tucked up against his chest. Memories of last night flooded his chest and curled his toes. Smiling to himself, he nuzzled his nose against Namjoon's forehead and let his eyes shut again, petting Namjoon's ears in slow, languid strokes.
He was almost wrapped up in delicious sleep again when his phone rang. Panic zipped through him. In a second of intuitive dread, he knew who it was and why they were calling.
“Fuck,” he muttered, scrambling to pick up the phone, clearing his throat to sound more awake. “Hi! Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I had an emergency and I, uh, I'm at the dentist now just finishing up,” he lied wildly, flailing his way out of bed and careening toward the closet. “I'm so sorry, I should be there in a half hour. Sorry, sorry, okay bye.”
He grabbed a shirt and pants and rushed to the bathroom, oblivious to Namjoon asking him what was wrong. Enough hair wax and mouthwash to deem himself presentable and he was out the door, stopping only long enough to grab his key card and ID badge for work and slamming the door behind him.
When he got home, worn down from a long, hectic day of work, the house the was dark, quiet. Namjoon wasn't supposed to be home from work yet anyway, but it was lonesome cooking up stew in the silence, eating alone on the ugly couch.
It had only been hours but he was craving Namjoon's wiggly toes under his thighs and soft smile and heavy shoulders pressed against his. That feeling wasn't particularly new.
But what was new was the desire for his soft lips smashing into his, body pressing into his with a hunger. Jimin's toes curled and he grinned to himself. He couldn't wait for Namjoon to get home.
Hours passed though, and there was no Namjoon, later than he usually got back. Maybe he's just going out with Hoseok and Seokjin after work, he reasoned. But then another hour passed, and worry outweighed the embarrassment of calling.
“Hey!” Jimin exhaled with relief when Namjoon answered. “Uh, I was just um, gonna go to bed and... um,” He wasn't sure how to say he was calling to check on him without saying he was calling to check on him.
The fact that Namjoon wasn't jumping into explain why he was five hours later than normal was tongue-tying him. “Just wanted to make sure um, you're, you know.” He stopped, stubbornly annoyed that Namjoon was letting him ramble like this.
“I'm spending the night at Hoseok's,” Namjoon finally said, followed by a familiar voice shouting “Why isn't it Seokjin's?” in the background.
“Oh! Okay, well. Okay. See you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah, probably, I'll, yeah.”
Probably? Jimin thought to himself, fuming and not sure why. “Okay. Night, Joon.”
“Night.” Namjoon hung up.
Jimin frowned and stared at the blank phone. Probably? Probably I'll see you tomorrow? Probably I'll come home? As if they hadn't spent the last weeks making a little life together? As if they hadn't kissed so passionately the night before? Probably? Maybe I'll see you maybe I won't?
He stared at the wall before fussing around in the kitchen to distract himself. Why am I so irritated? Namjoon doesn't owe me anything.
He always wanted him to know that, and yet here he is, bordering on furious, chest raw with hurt feelings. It was embarrassing, too. Some vague shame that he had scared Namjoon off, made him feel like he had to run to his friends' house to stay away from him.
He curled up on the couch again, pouting that what he wanted and hoped for all day, kissing and cuddling Namjoon again, wasn't going to happen. That Namjoon was acting so weird, and he wasn't sure if it was his fault or not. "He's the one that got a boner," he grumbled at the silent walls. "He kissed me first, god damn it!"
With a scowl, he took his phone back out and typed out a message to Namjoon: hey, next time could you tell me if you're gonna be gone all night? Not because you have to, but because I care about you.
He deleted it. He typed it all again. He stared at it unsent, sighed and tossed his phone down. Finally, he got up to brush his teeth but came trotting back in a minute to retrieve his phone.
In another long moment of hesitation, he hit send and flopped into bed, refusing to wait for a reply.
Sleep was hard to come by. Over-thinking, waiting for the resolution of an argument that never happened but felt like it did, the tight discomfort of the empty bed. No reply came.
Namjoon is distancing himself. He regrets it, I get it. It was obvious, but Jimin wanted proof, wanted the words out loud to squash the painful little hope in his chest.
Staring at the moonlight shadows glowing wane across the dresser, he waited in vain for the ache to subside.
The next day was exhausting. He hardly slept, and the same frustrated hurt from the day before was fresh and immediate, no Namjoon curled around his arm or puttering around the kitchen.
It didn't get any better at work, endlessly berating himself for letting things happen too fast with Namjoon, for letting things happen at all when he had decided just days before to save them both the heartache and create some distance. But he missed him, his mind and body craved his presence in every quiet moment of the hectic day.
Tired from constant busyness at work and feeling rejected, tired of being himself, Jimin exhaled a huff when he sees he roof of their house come into view down the street.
Usually the sight of the tall oak tree in the yard of the little yellow house filled him with warm expectation. But today, apprehension grew at coming home to an empty house again. Probably, Namjoon had said. Maybe he'll be home or maybe he'll come up with more excuses to avoid me.
Even if Namjoon comes home, then they would have to talk about things, and be awkward, and he’ll get pushed away when all he wanted to do was cuddle him and kiss his pretty face. If nothing else, he prepared himself to accept Namjoon's wishes. Whether Namjoon wanted him or not, he was determined to make it clear that Namjoon could be comfortable with him, respected.
Head in a grey cloud, he rounded the corner and stopped short. There at the front steps, surrounded by spilled bags of groceries, was the large form of Namjoon, staring stunned at his palm. In an incredibly telling movement, Jimin immediately looked at his own. “Oh,” he barely gasped.
There, in the dead center of the top of his wrist, a perfect black little diamond. One of many that would print down the center of his hand and Namjoon's over the years, depending on how things go.
He was so enraptured that he didn't notice the terror growing on Namjoon's face as he watched Jimin.
“I'm sorry,” Namjoon whispered.
Jimin's heart fell. He finally looked up, seeing nothing but apprehension on Namjoon's face. He doesn't want it, he doesn't want it to be me. Jimin's throat closes over the thought.
“I'm sorry it's me,” Namjoon said, and confusion grew in Jimin. “I'm sorry,” he repeated, tears welling up in his eyes. “Fuck, I'm so sorry.”
“No.” It came out more angry than Jimin meant, but it hurt, physically hurt. “Oh,” Jimin gasped again, realizing. He was empathetic sure, but this was a bodily pain, an external pain, Namjoon's pain, now that they were physically connected.
He looked up from the diamond dot on his palm. “Joon, no,” he said more softly.
The self-directed anger in Namjoon was simmering in both of them, but in Jimin, an excitement so pure and warm was bubbling up.
Staring into Namjoon's eyes, he stepped forward. “It's you,” he dared to grin. “My soulmate.” It was hard to say the words without giggling like an idiot. He leaned up and kissed Namjoon's soft lips.
Namjoon kissed him back, but quickly overwhelmed, pulled away and shrugged in on himself. “You don't have to this just because I'm your soulmate, if you don't-”
“Namjoon,” he chided gently. “Can't you feel it? How happy I am?” Jimin beamed, taking Namjoon's hand. “Can you feel it?”
With a shy duck of his head, Namjoon nodded, bouncing on his heels like he does when he's excited.
Jimin could feel the anxiety fighting to overcome it in Namjoon. “But I'm-” he shook his head, knowing he shouldn't be self-depreciating. “I'm-” he huffed.
“Say it, Joonie. It's okay.” He squeezed his fingers, two souls in a matching thrill at the soulmate marks pressing together.
“I'm a hybrid. And ...a mess.”
“Okay,” Jimin smiled. “I'm a human and a mess.”
“Jimin, no you're not, I can't even-”
“I can't even sleep without you,” Jimin cut him off, not wanting Namjoon to put words to his inadequacies again. “I know you feel bad needing my help but,” he gave a helpless shrug. “I- I can't even, I... god, you're better at words than I am,” he muttered.
“I am?!” Namjoon sounded utterly mystified.
“Yes,” Jimin laughed, miffed at his lack of confidence. “Humm, let's see. I just- ah, I don't know, I had given up in a lot of ways before I met you. It's..." His nostrils flare in frustration with himself, words refusing to form to match the massive feelings blooming inside him. "You know what's so nice? We have so much time. I won't have to explain it and sound stupid one day because you'll know. Joonie, you're my soulmate.” He feels like his body is going to vibrate apart.
“And you... you want me?” Namjoon asked, vulnerable and full of hope.
“I wanted you anyway,” he smiled at their feet. “I was so scared that you... you know after we- I was so scared you regretted it and-”
“I'm sorry,” Namjoon rushed to say. “I was scared you regretted it or that you would regret it so I just...” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he ran away. “I'm still scared, honestly.”
They stood there, unsure and happy and terrified, both wondering, is it supposed to happen so easily? No fanfare from the heavens or dramatic moment large enough to match the utter largeness of the happening, just the two of them on the front steps of their little house, tired and together. Soulmates, as a fact.
Jimin finally gave his hand a squeeze. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah," Namjoon nodded, and they bent to pick up Namjoon's dropped grocery bags. Jimin tucked a onion that rolled away into his bag and looked up, pausing at the wonder in Namjoon's wide eyes.
The chilly breeze ruffled the ends of Namjoon's scarf and tickled Jimin's hair across his nose as they stared at each other with a muted, glowing amazement. In a huff, Namjoon dropped all the bags they had just gotten in order and stepped up against Jimin to pull him in the tightest, warmest hug before he went bashful again, pulling away to mutter apologies and recollect the groceries.
That night, stomachs full of Namjoon's attempt at pad thai, they sat on the ugly pink couch and wondered who was going to touch who first. It was so odd, the soulmate status feeling like unspoken permission to touch and kiss and love but neither of them knew how to start it.
Jimin caught sight of Namjoon inspecting the tiny matching diamond shape on his palm in awe and smiled. Leaning forward, he slid his open palm right up next to his, two little twin diamonds.
“My uncle has a soulmate,” Jimin said softly. “They started sharing dreams.”
“Really? Cool,” Namjoon breathed. “I've never known anyone. No one... thinks about hybrids having soulmates.”
He scooted in and laid his head on Namjoon's shoulder. “Isn't it weird that we know more about soulmates than we do about souls?”
“Yeah!” Namjoon sat up straight to face him, eyes full of the wide excitement of an interesting concept. “I've always wondered, why don't we know who assigns soulmates? Or where souls come from? What is the feeling of knowing someone is your soulmate? Is it chemical? Pheremones? Something more? And if hybrids, who aren't born naturally, have souls, what does that mean? Are souls some genetic code embedded in DNA? Or are the fates really real and magically dispensing a soul into hybrid bodies in the labs? But then, what are the fates? Gods? Aliens? Some weird dimensional creation machine?”
Jimin could only laugh, helpless at the barrage of questions.
“Sorry,” Namjoon apologized, embarrassed as always about asking too many questions.
“You don't need to be sorry,” Jimin pressed. “I like your questions. I'm your soulmate, that means we fit perfectly together.”
“But... but we don't know that, we don't know that's what it means if we don't even know what soulmates are.”
Jimin nodded in agreement. “But that's what it means to me. And not in the way like we'll always agree or never upset each other but just that... our souls are meant to be together. We're good for each other.”
It was quiet as Namjoon soaked in that statement, pleased and brave enough to reach over and run his fingers over Jimin's soulmate mark.
“I can't believe it, I can't- you- I have a soulmate,” Namjoon stuttered. “You're my soulmate.”
He reached up to brush away a bit of scarf lint clinging to Namjoon’s hair, tickling at the koala ears that twitched in protest. “What does it mean to you, Joon? Soulmates.”
Namjoon turned over Jimin's hand to play with the thick silver rings on his fingers. “I don't... I don't know, honestly. I never thought it was even possible for me to have one, I never- never thought about it. But! I want to be good for you, I want... I mean I know we're soulmates and we'll always be tied together but, I want to be good for you regardless of that. I don't want that to be the reason why I'm... trying. You know?”
He laced their fingers together, searching Namjoon's face in affection. “I know. I wanted to try my best for you even before we knew.” It made Namjoon go soft and blushy and completely impossible not to kiss.
Jimin started at his cheek, pecking lightly there, and over his eyelids when they fluttered shut. “You're so pretty, Joonie bear.” He whispered the words across Namjoon's forehead, brushing kisses here and there.
“Am not,” he muttered in such shyness.
“Are too,” Jimin teased, cupping Namjoon's face and pulling away to look at him. “You're gorgeous,” he said, breaking out into a grin when Namjoon's ears fluttered at the compliment. “You're my gorgeous, smart, sweet, adorable soulmate,” he giggled, loving every single rosy shade peaking across Namjoon's cheeks.
“You don't have to say that,” Namjoon mumbled, completely unable to look him in the eyes.
“What, do you want me to lie?” Jimin said with mock surprise. He slung a leg over Namjoon's lap and bit his lip, wondering if it was okay to kiss him like he wanted. He's my soulmate, he told himself. We'll get through it fine. We'll get through anything.
So he went for it, straddling Namjoon's lap and pulling his chin up gently for a kiss. That delicious, heavy warmth spread through his bones as they kiss again, and again, and deeper, and more breathless. “I really think you're so gorgeous, Joon,” Jimin murmured against his wet lips. “And smart. And sweet. It's okay if you don't believe me. I'm gonna keep telling you all the time,” he giggled, eyes sparkling at the little giddy wiggle of Namjoon's koala ears.
Bashful and a little brave from the compliments, Namjoon reached out to wrap his arms around Jimin's waist, pulling him in for more kisses. Slow and blissful, they explored each other with their mouths and hands, smiling murmured words of affection shared as they rubbed their noses together, giggly and warm.
“Let's go to bed, Joonie bear,” Jimin suggested, planting one more kiss on the tip of his nose.
Namjoon agreed, hefting Jimin up and grinning when Jimin yelped and clung to him. They giggled and kissed their way into Jimin's little bedroom, two souls starting a slow twine around each other, passion and solace knitting into a home as odd and cozy as the little yellow house itself.