a/n: based on that tumblr post about the soulmates!au + colour, and yoongi’s new mixtape.

tw: heavily based off of suicide and depression

For Min Yoongi, hope didn’t come to him as a burst of light; as the bit of light down the tunnel. Instead, it came as colour.

Min Yoongi, 22, with dying dreams. Dreams that were not only dying because of sickness, but also dying because Min Yoongi himself was killing them. Killing them with his bare shaking hands, killing them before they could kill him. And killing him they were. It was a race against time, really; he was placing bets against himself on who would succeed in killing the other first.

Perhaps he was a little insane. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he had told himself that, but that didn’t change anything.

Or perhaps his dreams weren’t killing him. Perhaps he was his dreams. No one really knew, least of all Yoongi. All he knew was that he was dying, both from his dreams and from himself. All he knew was that he would one day die anyway. All he knew was why not today?

Perhaps that was his dream. To die. It was a bit complicated inside of Min Yoongi’s head, and he couldn’t really quite organize all his thoughts properly. The only thing that really cleared his head was to write lyrics and rhymes and rap, but that was also the one thing that made him think these things. It was a bit complicated inside of Min Yoongi’s head, and he couldn’t really quite organize all his thoughts properly.

Perhaps that particular dream would come true today. After all, that was why he was standing on the rooftop of a tall building in Seoul. He wasn’t particularly sure which building it was, just that it was tall enough to ensure his death should he just happen to fall off the rooftop. The bridges of Seoul were too iffy; water was never a comfortable thing to land in if jumped into from a great height, but it did make sure for there to be some survivors, or the rare passerby who would pull one away from their inevitable death.

It was rather cruel, Yoongi thought, for one to be unable to be saved from their suffering and pain. To be stopped before they could commit the act that they had only spent days, months, years dreaming about; the act that would surely free themselves from the suffering and pain that the so called amazing human mind executed to itself.

And executed Yoongi would. Execute himself, that was. It was finally the day that he had spent so much time thinking about, and not so much time planning. Had he spent more time planning, perhaps his plan would have gone according to plan.

Hoisting one leg over the railing, he smiled bitterly to himself. Goodbye, ed up world. Goodbye, ed up me. Goodbye.

And right before he could throw himself off of the building, a hand pulled him harshly away from his fate, and away from the railing. It seemed that someone had pulled him away from his not-so-inevitable death and into their own lap. Bewildered, he turned his head to see a boy with beautiful lips, and round cheeks. With a single glance, he could see the cigarette that had fallen to the ground, and the flush on the boy’s cheeks.

“What the do you think you’re doing?” the boy demanded, breath slightly heavy.

Colour. The colour was flourishing around him, bringing warmth into his body. He could see the redness in the boy’s lips, the red colour that he had only heard about. Even the blackness of his hair seemed more lively and colourful that had he been seeing in just black and white, as he had just seconds ago. He glanced down at his hands, a pale peach colour.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“Don’t you ing wow me, I want you to tell me what the you were doing!” The boy’s eyes were a dark brown, and staring so intensely into his own that when he looked up at the boy he was taken aback.

“I thought that’d be obvious. I was about to…” he paused dramatically, “take a step into my next adventure.”

The boy ran a hand through his hair in disbelief, before crawling out from underneath Yoongi and reaching for the cigarette that he had dropped. Putting it in-between his lips, he shook his head at Yoongi. “Are you referencing Harry Potter to me?”

Yoongi couldn’t help but grin in an almost insane manner. “I knew there was no ing way my soulmate wouldn’t know Harry Potter.” Orange was a beautiful colour, Yoongi observed, as he saw the fire flicker from the boy’s lighter.

“‘After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.’ Bull. If you thought I was going to let my soulmate die right after I finally met him, you’re pretty ing dumb.” The boy silently offered Yoongi a cigarette, which Yoongi took gladly.

“I am pretty ing dumb,” Yoongi agreed, lighting up his own cigarette. “So please excuse me for asking, but does this mean you will let me kill myself after you get to know me a bit better?”

The boy’s intense glare was back again. “I’m not a douchebag; I’m not going to let anyone commit suicide, whether it be my worst enemy or a complete stranger.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smirk, as he jumped onto his feet. “Try to stop me.” With that, he walked over to the railing and swung one leg over it once more. Letting go of the railing, he attempted to throw the rest of his body over the edge, but strong arms pulled him away from the edge, and Yoongi once again found himself in the lap of the stranger.

“You…” The boy looked at him in disbelief. “The first thing we’re doing is getting you help.”

“Help?” Yoongi laughed hollowly, his cheerful façade breaking in a single instant, and being replaced with a sardonic look – one that one could only describe as the look of a man who had lost everything. “You think my parents haven’t tried to get me to see a shrink? Those things are just a waste of money, they never do end up helping you. One year of seeing that ing dickhead, and I’m still as ing insane as ever, if not more.”

Ignoring this, the boy held out his hand and smiled – throwing Yoongi aback. His smile was unlike one he had ever seen before – his eyes crinkled up adorably, and his lips widened in a way that one could only describe as genuine; everything about it seemed to send good vibes to Yoongi, despite the force field of negativity that he had long since built up around himself. “I’m Park Jimin; it’s nice to finally meet you.”

The fact that this boy – Jimin, could be so adorable as well as look so optimistic and at the same time both smoke and swear threw Yoongi a bit off. But stereotypes were meant to be broken, weren’t they? Or was that what they said about rules? Yoongi didn’t really know; and at the moment, he didn’t really care. All he knew was that he felt weird in a way that he hadn’t felt around anyone in a long time.

“This is usually the time where you’re supposed to shake my hand and introduce yourself, you know? I know you said you were pretty ing dumb but I didn’t know that it was to this extent.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered down towards Jimin’s hand before flicking back to his eyes. “I’m Min Yoongi. And I just realized that I should probably get rid of my suicide note before my roommate comes home and discovers it.”

With that, he bolted past the boy – not bothering to shake his hand – and stumbled down the many flights of stairs until he was finally at the bottom, breathing hard. It hadn’t exactly been a lie, but at the moment, Jimin’s presence had been too suffocating to be around. He was too happy, too innocent… if Yoongi stayed around him, he would only taint that innocence and bring darkness into his life.

He quickly ran out of the building, almost running right into a passerby, who gave him a dirty look. Without mumbling a sorry, he ran to the edge of the sidewalk, holding his hand out for a taxi. He wasn’t really in a financial position where he could regularly ride taxis, but right now the most important thing was getting out of there before Jimin found him again. If he could get away, perhaps he could minimize the amount of damage. A taxi came, and he quickly got in, saying the address of the apartment that he and his roommate shared.

And just like that, he was gone. He could see Jimin rush out of the building from a distance through the side mirror.

A bit of him felt reluctant, but deep down he knew that he had made the right decision. People like him, the bad guys, shouldn’t be around pure innocent souls such as Park Jimin.

Perhaps this was for the best.