Six Years Ago

“The thing is,” Namjoon declares, gesturing broadly. “What? No. The thing is -- oh.” He jumps back, looking down puzzled at his own shoes. “Why are my feet wet?”

“Maybe wave your other arm, hyung,” Jimin suggests. “The one not holding a beer?”

“Ah. Right.” Namjoon switches his beer -- his fourth? Or maybe fifth? -- to his other hand and gestures again. “The thing is -- .” He looks down at his wet pant leg, frowning at the beer in his hand before switching it yet again. “Evil, right?” He’s now pacing in front of the makeshift firepit. “The problem -- I already said no! -- is evil. It can’t exist, but it does. So God can’t exist.” He looks at the assembled group expectantly.

“What do you mean, hyung? How does one rule out the other?” Jungkook pipes up obligingly. Jimin groans and discreetly tosses a crumpled can at Jungkook’s head.

“Well,” Namjoon begins, practically flexing.

Yoongi drops his head back against the concrete bridge support with a sigh.

“You see, if we accept that God is omnipotent or all powerful, which we do, and -- I’m not hungry -- and we accept that God is wholly good, which we do, then how -- no, I don’t!”

Yoongi continues to stare upward at the underside of the bridge. “Jin. Can you please speak out loud when he’s drinking? You know he gets confused.”

“My bad,” says Jin blandly. “I was just wondering if you wanted french fries, Joon.”

“For the love of , I do not want any french fries!,” bellows Namjoon, waving his arms wildly. “Oh, .” His hands fly to his face, half-full beer whipping off into the darkness. Jin leaps to his feet to assist his boyfriend in getting the beer out of his eyes as Jimin collapses to the dirt in a fit of giggles.

“Seriously, though, guys,” says Jungkook, staring intensely into the fire, eyes wide. “Is God dead?”

Yoongi groans and pulls his beanie down over his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to come out tonight, but his body moved almost on autopilot. Saturday nights under the bridge were tradition. Always had been, always would be. At first, it was just two of them - himself and Namjoon. Huddled together in the dark in their own private hideout, scribbling lyrics by the light of an illicit fire.

Jungkook came next. They’d discovered him spying on them. He’d given himself away by singing along to the chorus of a rap the two were writing. Later, they’d collected another singer, Jimin. And not too long ago now came Jin.

Jin was a hard addition for Yoongi to swallow. Not because he had any problems with the guy - sure, his sense of humor was a little out there, and he did have a sort of nagging, motherly nature that could get on his nerves from time to time - but overall, there was nothing objectionable about him. It’s how he was pulled in.

Jungkook had been connected since long before he joined them. It wasn’t super common for young children to connect, but it had happened.

The mental connection between soulmates was dormant from birth. The science has never been exactly made clear, but it’s commonly understood and accepted that some big event in a person’s life would snap it open at some point. There have been reports of all sorts of events opening the connection on one side - a major accomplishment, some deep philosophical personal breakthrough, even the birth of a child. For most people, though, it was some kind of terrifying incident. Something that got the heart racing, life flashing before the eyes, all of that.

Jungkook had been in some sort of accident as a young child, when he was five or six. Talking about it now, he makes it seem like it wasn’t a big deal, which makes sense. The younger you are, the easier you are to terrify. Whatever it was - Jungkook’s always been vague - his connection opened immediately, and someone was already waiting on the other side.

He never spoke much about his soulmate, but Yoongi knew they spoke to each other plenty. The far off, glazed stare connected couples took on when speaking to each other was unmistakable. Because he was so tight lipped about it, Yoongi had never been able to put his finger on whether they were platonic soulmates or romantic soulmates. When he thinks about it, he assumes Jungkook is pretty unsure himself. It must be hard to sort out your connection when it starts so young, when everything is innocent by default. Yoongi does know, though, that their bond is strong. He sees Jungkook consulting with his match constantly, carefully considering everything he hears.

Jimin connected not long after he’d joined the little club of misfit bridge trolls. It had been a Saturday night, actually, and they’d all been together under the bridge.

“What color am I?,” Jimin suddenly asked, right in the middle of one of Namjoon’s less coherent philosophical meanderings.

“Uh, beige?,” Yoongi suggested.

“I think you’re more of a lightly toasted coconut,” Jungkook added thoughtfully.

“No, I mean, like as a person. What color am I as a person. My aura or whatever.”

Namjoon’s attention was caught. “Now, that’s an interesting question. Did you know that there’s a condition called synesthesia, where for some people, colors have --”

“What the hell kind of question is that?,” Yoongi interrupted.

“I don’t know. Someone just asked me. He’s a vibrating purple.”

“Who is a vibrating what now?,” Yoongi sputtered.

“This guy,” Jimin said. “He just said, ‘I’m a vibrating purple. What color are you?’”

“Just… now?” Yoongi looked over his shoulder, then down at the empty bottles near his feet. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Seriously, I just heard him clearly say -- oh,” said Jimin, realization dawning.

“Oh!,” exclaimed Jungkook, clapping his hands together excitedly.

“Ooooh,” said Yoongi, and looked back down at his feet.

“I’m going to tell him I’m a lightly toasted coconut,” Jimin said with an excited wriggle, his eyes already glazed over.

Jungkook grinned at him, then looked at Namjoon, still rambling on to no one near the fire.

“Looks like it’s just me and you tonight, hyung,” he said to Yoongi, and clinked their bottles together.

Jimin’s soulmate is a trip, from what Yoongi’s observed. As best as he can tell, Jimin and his soulmate were a platonic pair. Growing up, no kid dreams of being part of a platonic soulmate match. No, a romantic match that ends in a loving happily ever after is the dream. These two, though.

Jimin’s soulmate won’t allow them to share their names. Something about how fate had brought them this far, and they needed to count on fate to bring them the rest of the way. They’d started referring to him as Vibrating Purple, then VP, and eventually just V. Jimin and V have never met, and it’s honestly unclear whether they ever will.

Jimin seems fine with it, though. Amused expressions are constantly flickering across his face, and the group has grown used to him bursting into laughter out of nowhere. “Oh my God, hang on, I’ve got to tell V!,” and “Guys, listen to what V just said” are probably the two most common phrases out of his mouth. He and V are walking, talking, shining examples of the case for platonic soulmates. Yoongi thinks they should take their show on the road, touring elementary schools on the days lessons on the soulmate system are given.

It’s not like the lessons are exactly comprehensive as they are, anyway. One random day, every student in public elementary school is marched to the auditorium to watch the government’s video on soulmates. Just about everyone can recite lines from the video by heart before they’re ten years old. “Remember, kids. Somewhere out there, your special someone is waiting. Maybe it’s your future husband or wife. Maybe it’s your new best friend! The important thing to know is not to rush it.”

That was basically the entire lesson on soulmates. Don’t rush it. Don’t try to force it. It will happen when it happens. Connecting too early isn’t good for anyone, they say. You need time to become your own person before you start sharing your headspace with a stranger.

Of course, by high school graduation, a bit more than half of all kids have jumped. Literally, jumped. Somewhere along the line, some enterprising businessman-slash-mad genius had franchised an entire empire out of scaring the out of kids. Extreme adventure businesses are packed all along the coast of the country. It’s nearly a rite of passage at this point for a group of friends to sneak away from home in the night and make a run for the ocean and the bungee jumping, spring loaded launch pads, and other thrilling “dangers” waiting there. Some even go as far as skydiving.

It’s hardly a secret. Most adults, while frustrated with the phenomenon, turn a blind eye. You tell a world of hormone-addled teenagers that there’s a fair chance their One True Love is out there waiting for them, and on top of that, that danger is the most effective way to connect with them, and you’re going to end up with some sketchy situations. Even though these businesses operate under the guise of adults only fun, it’s a thin veneer. Everyone knows why they’re really there, and as long as t