Two (prologue)

"You could not go, Namjoon. You know that.”

The older was sitting lazily in the chair. He kept rocking back and forth, pushing stronger each time, almost over the limit, but Namjoon knew he would not have fallen. It was just that Yoongi seemed to like this feeling of uncertainty under him.

A puff of smoke hit his face and Namjoon tried not to wrinkle his nose. They had known each other for two years, ever since Namjoon had approached the fifteen-year-old Yoongi who had just made his first appearance on stage and had complimented him to no end, but still he couldn’t get used to the unhealthy habits of his friend. He remembered how, to his thirteen year old self, Min Yoongi had looked the coolest. Two years later, he still considered him so, but with more reason and certainly and more common sense. During that period of time, in fact, he had developed his raw talent and the amount of experience helped him to figure out what could be considered good and instead had to be thrown away. However, Namjoon thought he still had a long road ahead and lots more to learn. But he was young, he had time. Or so he thought.

"You know I can’t," Namjoon said with irritation. Yoongi had given him a sideway glance with that penetrating gaze that seemed to pierce you from side to side. They were in the back room of the pub where the artists usually do their rehearsals. Luckily, Yoongi was on good terms with the owner and so the latter allowed him to use that room whenever he needed to record his pieces. It was a small room and badly lighted, however even if cramped and desolate, it was also the only place where both could breathe.

"You could."

"No, I could not. You know very well hyung. No matter what you think or what you want in life, you cannot escape the laws of this world even when they are wrong,” Namjoon said bitterly.

"You know I always thought that there had been a mistake in the assignment of my status of number two,” Namjoon continued sarcastically. "But I get used to the idea, after all, being number twos has its good points. I could devote myself to music without the fear that someone could block my way. I should have expected that things would not go smoothly. There had to be a rip off somewhere."

Yoongi’s chair slammed loudly on his place and only then he decided to give his undivided attention to Namjoon.

"If it makes you feel any better, I always thought you were wasted as a musician," Yoongi said with a shrug.

"Hyung!" exclaimed Namjoon, deflating like a balloon. Yoongi let out a grim laugh. "As a Kim, you might conquer peaks us mortals could never get, you’ll get a lot of doors open and with your skills and your brain, you could really go far. Who knows, maybe one day you will have the authority to change the algorithm,” the older said and Namjoon didn’t understand whether he meant it or not. Yoongi had always had a bad sense of humor.

"As if it were possible. All society systems in each period of history are based upon some sort of iniquity. The problem is not the algorithm, hyung,” Namjoon said seriously.

Yoongi sighed. "I'm trying to see the bright side here, you could help me out you know."

"There is no bright side,” Namjoon snorted. Yoongi burst into a big laugh and almost rolled on the ground.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow and looked at him puzzled.

"You are so damn right," Yoongi said in his low voice. It was Namjoon’s to stare him through. There was a reason why naive young Namjoon, who had sneaked in from the back door of the pub, had found Yoongi the coolest guy even then. His lyrics could be a bit chaotic, his rhymes not always brilliant and his lisp evident but there was something special in his lyrics and in his stage presence, something that would hit you hard like a punch in the stomach. It was the crudity of his feelings, how he ordered them so for everyone to see, it was that what left you breathless. In those two years, Namjoon had tried to put the puzzle together, it wasn't so hard to follow the traces his hyung left between the rhymes of his songs, however, he never had the courage to ask his hyung about it.

Yoongi wrote mostly love songs, he talked about a desperate love, a love of drunken people with feelings that were like alcohol, hot liquid that burns your throat when you ingest yet you cannot help it. A love that was screaming solitude in the guts even in its lighter notes.

Namjoon had deduced that there had to be some reasons for those feelings and he had various theories about it, what he knew though was that both found their so-called lucky status, a burden.

"What do I do now hyung?" Namjoon asked then, covering his face in despair.

Yoongi got up, walked over to Namjoon’s figure, crouched on the carpet of that cramped room they called the studio, and placed his hand gently on his head. Namjoon amusingly thought that this would have been the only way Yoongi could actually tower over him, he who was a giant genius that looked older than he actually was. He also thought that his hyung would be the only person from now on he could be himself around.

Yoongi didn't tell him “It's going to be alright” or “I'm sorry”, he just was there for him.

"Well they say that the young Kim is very attractive," the older said, sitting down beside him. It was Namjoon’s turn to laugh.

"Since when does appearance matter for a number two?" Namjoon asked ironically. Yoongi gave him one last look and then offered him a cigarette and Namjoon said good deeds and took one cigarette even though he hated the smell of smoke.

Yeah, you're not the average number two, the look of Yoongi seemed to suggest. They weren't self-celebratory words, it was the truth, Namjoon knew he was different. And the events of the past few days had seemed to prove it.

On one sunny morning of May, a dark sedan stopped in front of his house. Namjoon hadn't noticed, of course, he was still arguing with his pillow and his older sister was trying unsuccessfully to wake him up, when his mother entered the room in a hurry and took off the covers from his body without pity.

"We have guests. Namjoon get up!"

It wasn't the first time his mother had come to wake him up personally, but it was the first time she had used that tone. There was nervousness in her voice, there was tension in the line of his lips and Namjoon suddenly felt his sleep disappear. He had then exchanged a glance with his sister, but she had seemed as taken aback as he was. Namjoon slipped out of his blankets and without hesitation headed toward the bathroom to get ready. He took with him his best shirt. His mother had uttered the word guests so Namjoon had concluded that it had to be someone important.

Nothing, however, had been able to prepare him for the scene that greeted him in the living room. His mother and his sister had prepared breakfast with the best tea set they had and Namjoon would have admired the readiness of the women of the house if it weren’t for the fact that they were all sitting stiffly on the sofa and armchairs and everyone seemed to be waiting for him. Namjoon swallowed.

The last time he had felt this way was when his mother had taken him to a doctor at age six for what everyone thought an attention problem. Namjoon had been restless as a kid and he didn't like to follow rules. He often fell asleep in class, he got distracted easily and he had the unnerving habit of making too many questions and of questioning everything and everyone regardless of the consequences. Even their world system.

"It makes no sense mom! Why can’t we all be happy? Why should I be better than a number zero?"

"Namjoon! Don't talk like that!” His mother said, frightened. They were in the middle of the school parking lot and her son apparently had had his first lesson on soulmates.

"But Mom! I don't understand!"

"Don't talk about these things Namjoonie. Never! Promise me that you won't!" Being Namjoon, a kid of only six years old, he didn't understand the gravity of his point of view and although he had obediently nodded, he was still intimately convinced that the others were deadly wrong and he was right instead. The soulmate system was leaking from all sides, how could they teach that thing like it was more exact than mathematics? Namjoon didn't understand. It was like saying that two plus two made five.

They had been told that they were living in the best feasible reality. That a perfect system assigned each of them a soulmate and that this made them less alone and better than people. Having a soulmate meant being a number two and Namjoon knew that he was. His mother had always said that there was a special friend waiting for him and that sooner or later Namjoon would have met him and that he had to be patient but the wait would be worth it. His mother hadn't talked about number zeros, though. According to his teacher, the number zeros were a mistake, people who were born with a deficiency. And because of that, they lived an imperfect life. They were a reject and as such, they should be treated. And it was then that Namjoon had thought that what the teacher was saying didn't make sense at all. A perfect system that produces rejects? A perfect system for definition if it was perfect it couldn't produce something considered waste. And why does he, as number two, have to be better than someone called a number zero? Based on what? Their neighbor of the house next door had two cars instead of one but this didn't make him better than Namjoon's dad! Richer, perhaps, but not better.

Of course, once they had returned to school Namjoon took on himself the task of correcting the teacher. It didn't go very well and he ended up with bias note and also was sent to the dean office. His mother was furious because he had disobeyed and the dean, who considered him a problematic and not very bright child, had looked at him as if there was something deeply wrong with him. Namjoon had felt terrible.

His parents were so worried about him after that, they decided to consult a specialist. It turned out that the reason why he never paid attention in class and didn't want to do homework, was because, in reality, he was bored to death. And the reason why he didn't stop making questions was because he had an insatiable thirst for knowledge. He had an IQ above average and this made him a child more prone to introspection and reflection. It was natural that the first-grade classes resulted too easy for a child who could read at the level of a student of the fourth grade. It was decided then that once his level was attested, Namjoon would be moved to the most appropriate class. It had been with astonishment, pride and a great deal of concern that his parents learned that they would have to register their brilliant son at least in fifth grade.

It was then that his parents took the most important decision for the future of their son.

Namjoon was smart and strongly stood out among his peers but this meant that, at the same time, he had no place among them. Not wanting to mess up the social life of a child that although smart for his age, needed just to play and make friends, his parents transferred him to another school and decided to enroll him in third grade. Namjoon was a tall boy for his age, he could easily pass for a third-grade child even though a bit small. They made Namjoon promise he would still do his best to follow the lessons and taught him the importance of following the rules, even those that Namjoon considered "too stupid to be real."

The choice of his parents turned out to be a winning strategy. Namjoon had a happy childhood and had succeeded in making friends, playing football with them, even though he often peeled his knees, he had grown up like any child of his age.

However, Namjoon had a secret. One he guarded jealously and that his peers, so absorbed in their games, could not understand. Namjoon had many words swirling in his head. He had a lot of thoughts that were accumulating in the space with no limits of his mind, questions, solutions, doubts, expressions of feelings too big and deep, that he did not really know where to put them. Namjoon began to suffer from headaches since childhood, at first they were mild and infrequent but as the years went by they became more intense and Namjoon noticed they seemed proportional to the amount of inconsistency that he couldn't help but notice their imperfect reality. He still thought that the world system was stupid and that there were many things that were wrong. These and many other feelings were suffocating him, and even though as he grew up he had become more aware and understanding of why his mother was so terrified by a child too perceptive for his own good, this did not cure his headache. Until one day, perhaps by chance, perhaps out of curiosity, during a boring history lesson, Namjoon wrote the words on either side of the margins of his textbooks. Those words were followed by entire sentences and the feeling of satisfaction was so great that Namjoon hadn't stopped and had ended up covering fully all the margins of his textbooks. It was liberating, the paper caught his words and helped him to organize his mind. The headaches became more bearable and sparse.

After he met Yoongi, all these words turned into lyrics and those lyrics in music. It was then that Namjoon felt finally free and his head stopped hurting. The weight of his mind had finally found a way out.

Despite that he never thought of his intelligence as something problematic or as something to be proud of, it was something that was with him and that was it. He knew how to do complicated mathematical operations in mind without needing a calculator since he was ten years old and he knew more words than a dictionary, but Namjoon would not be able to cook something even to save his life. He has a terrible sense of direction and was the only right-handed person to smudge his words while scribbling down sentences as if he were writing with his left hand instead. So yeah Namjoon had always felt more like a walking disaster who had a brain a bit faster than the others than an actual genius. In short, he was just like the average person with the strengths and weaknesses of any other human being.

It was there in front of two strangers so well dressed that Namjoon felt the weight of the baggage of his qualities.

"I am lawyer, Jun, and this is my colleague, Yoo. Also a lawyer. We apologize for interrupting your Saturday morning, but we couldn't afford to discuss these issues by phone. This discretion, you'll understand soon, it’s justified. Anyway, we are here as representatives of the Kim family."

Dead silence followed those words. No one had dared grab the tea his mother had so kindly prepared or taste one of the delicious warm croissants. Namjoon thought it was a waste. He was hungry and didn't have breakfast but he knew he couldn't ignore the scene that was unfolding and so he forced himself to ignore his stomach.

His father, clearing his throat, because those two people seemed to expect a bow or something like that, asked politely.

"Kim?" After all, they were Kims too but they certainly didn't go around unleashing lawyers in the homes of other Kims on Saturday morning.

"The Kim family. I mean the presidential Kim family. "

It was good that none of them, and above all him, had taken the steaming cup of tea his mother had prepared because surely it would have crashed to the ground.

"If I may ask, why did the presidential family Kim felt the need to send their lawyers to this house?" Namjoon knew that his mother was trying to think of something they could have done wrong even though he knew that except for a fine of his father for speeding five kilometers over the limit and occasionally the plant pots of his neighbors that his son had broken walking by, there was nothing to justify a consular intervention.

"There's nothing to worry ma'am," tried to reassure the lawyer Yoo. "We are to tell you good news, our presence here is just to ensure that certain measures are met."

"Mrs. Kim, Mr. Kim, Kim Namjoon your child is the soulmate of the Kim heir, Kim Seokjin."

At those words suddenly everyone focused on him. Namjoon had felt like the time he had unintentionally broken his mother’s favorite cup. So he considered he might as well eat something. He slipped a croissant in his mouth to prevent himself from screaming.

His life, he knew, was about to change and he did not know if this time would have appreciated the breakthrough.

The Kim family had sent to Namjoon a designed suit for the occasion. It fit him like a glove and it gave him a good feeling to the touch but Namjoon would have traded those expensive clothes anytime for his T-shirt, jeans and converse. He was only fifteen, damn, super brain or not he didn't feel ready.

"From now on you'll be a Kim of the Kim family. So there are a number of rules that you must always remember,” the lawyer Yoo said seriously.

Namjoon had swallowed heavily and his mother looked at him worried. Like him, she was probably thinking the same thing: that Namjoon never followed well rules were and that he still thought that the world system was rubbish.

"First, no one for any reason has to ever know your age, not even your soulmate, at least not for the time being. Second, your life will never be yours as such. The Kims are the most popular and important family of the country. As the partner of the heir, your actions will be visible to everyone. So your education and your image should be measured as well as your degree of freedom, which will be limited for your own safety. Third and last: the family and its needs will always come first and in all circumstances.

Since that Saturday morning, a couple weeks had passed and Namjoon, in the meanwhile, had finished his last year of high school successfully. Despite having been already accepted into the arts and performance College and despite the inscriptions to other universities being close, Namjoon had been made switch careers and he was now enrolled in the business and financial course of the wealthiest university in the country. No one had batted an eye to this change, even his mother, who had always cared about his happiness, hadn't objected.

Namjoon looked in the mirror of his room for the umpteenth time. He felt ridiculous, he wished Yoongi was there just to and call him a penguin, it would have made things look less terrifying.

"You look great,” said a voice behind him. It was his mother, who was dressed as finely as him, was looking at him in awe from his spot. His parents had always allowed him to make its own choices, but since the lawyers of the Kims had stormed into their lives, they had complied with their every request.

Namjoon was furious and he felt betrayed. His parents just needed to hear the word "Kim family" for everything to change. They even accepted that the introduction was arranged at a time where Namjoon was clearly a minor and introductions at his age were illegal. This—this ridiculous show called an introduction had been done in the name of the safety of the Kim family. The young heir had just turned eighteen and soon he was going to begin his public life. He needed his designated soulmate by his side. Namjoon snorted internally. He imagined that the Kims had put a lot of effort to cover the tracks that clarified his age.

"Mom, do I really have to?" Namjoon asked in his last ditch effort.

"Namjoon. I know that all this scares you, I know you think that these demands are not right. But beyond the Kim family and the implications of this, today you will meet your soulmate. I want you to focus on this. Today is a happy day."

Namjoon bowed his head but still tried to fight back.

"I know I have to be happy and everyone thinks that I should feel honored. But how can I be when it’s my soulmate who is taking me away from what I've always wanted?"

“Namjoon, when you become an adult, you will realize that you have to make choices and these choices sometimes lead you far from the starting point, in spite of yourself. And when this happens I know that frustration will be the predominant feeling. But don’t let this feeling stop you from exploiting a good opportunity. You were given a gift and it's your duty, Namjoon, to use it smartly. I always knew you were destined for great things." Namjoon nodded but didn't say anything to avoid saying something he would regret.

It was not fair.

It was not fair. He had not made the choices that were the choices of the others and poured on him with the force of a big boulder. He had not chosen to have anything and everything had been taken away from him. He could make a contribution to the world with his music, couldn't he? Wasn't music a worthy enough path? But above all, why him? Why?

Namjoon had never seen his skills as a burden, but for once he wished to be anything—be anyone else, except being dragged prematurely to an introduction that he did not want. God, he didn't even know if he liked guys!

Yes, many would have reprimanded him for thinking about gender boundaries in a world where what mattered was having a soulmate, whoever that was, but Namjoon couldn't help it if his brain reasoned in different ways.

I wish you were wrong. I would like someone to come out and shout out “gotcha!" and everything would turn out to be a joke of Yoongi’s and his bad sense of humor.

His head began to ache like it happened in those times he had too many thoughts and he could not express them properly.

All this couldn't be right, there was definitely a mistake, he was just Namjoon and if there was something wrong it was with him or with the system.

"The car has arrived," came the voice of his father from the ground floor. His mother straightened his tie and Namjoon felt his stomach drop. He was not ready, he would have been. The panic closed his throat and he went down the stairs with heavy legs and his head buzzing.

His whole family was dressed especially nice, and if possible Namjoon felt worse. So everything was real.

There were two cars parked in front of his house, his whole family took one whereas the other was reserved only for him. Namjoon wanted to protest, but he felt the lump in his throat and he could only glance frightened at his mother, who tried to smile reassuringly. Heart pounding and palms sweating, he sat in the back seat of the sedan and when the car started to move, Namjoon knew that it was now impossible to stop the inevitable.

He looked out of the window to distract himself, he had forgotten his phone on the bed so he didn't have any distraction. The music would have calmed him, but now he was more nervous than ever. The car stopped after nearly an hour in front of the gate of what Namjoon could define as nothing but a villa. It was located in the luxurious area of the capital in a neighborhood where Namjoon had never set foot. Someone came to the door and he had to concentrate not to stumble on the sidewalk as usual. His family luckily was soon alongside him and all of them were escorted through the beautiful garden and then inside even more beautiful villa rooms. On another occasion, Namjoon would have appreciated so much exquisite taste, especially the magnificent library he had glimpsed from one of the open doors that faced the main hall but Namjoon was not in his best state of mind. His family was conducted in what could be called a conference room and he questioned himself about the actual size of that place. It was probably at least ten times his house.

His family sat on a side of the long table, Namjoon sat on the left spot of the head of the table that was still empty. The Kim family had yet to arrive. They didn't have to wait long, only five minutes before the double doors opened and a crowd of those who were collaborators and relatives entered. Then, behind all that people the consular couple made their entrance, the console Kim went to sit at the head of the table while Mrs. Kim occupied the second place empty on the right side, leaving the one in front of Namjoon free. The place of the heir.

Finally, the door opened one last time.

He was tall, well dressed and looked so magnificently out of place in all that cold glitz, that Namjoon had to force himself to resist the urge to wade into his face. It was all his fault if his life turns upside down, he told himself—this spoiled kid who happened to be the heir. It was his fault that for some unlucky coincidence he had ended up being designated by an obsolete system as his soulmate.

Namjoon really tried to resist, he didn't want to surrender, but curiosity and something else that he could not give a name to forced him to look up. So, their eyes met.

It was like being hit by a violent punch in the stomach.

He had promised himself to hate him and, even before seeing his face, Namjoon had promised to himself to be stronger than the system. Yet although he had only frustration inside of him, he was unable to find this person, even before capturing the details of his face, anything but perfect.

His whole body seemed to exult in recognition since Kim Seokjin was his soulmate—except his mind.

 Then, he felt the first symptoms of a headache.

Let's scream together! Another adventure finally began! Forget A world for two, this somehow will be different =D 
Let me know what you think and again thank you for all the love A world for two received <3
in case you want to shout at me @huilen4victory and http://iwaslookingforhope.tumblr.com/