Yoongi used to look forward to meeting his soulmate. He used to think he had a lot of love to give. He used to write daily messages on his wrist, sometimes even short poems. He wanted the other person to feel appreciated and he wanted to assure them that one day when they meet, he would take care of them and make sure they were always happy.

But then he grew up.

He grew up and he realized that he had nothing to offer, he realized that he was reserved, cynical and pessimistic, scared, terrified of receiving or showing affection. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he could feel any of those emotions at all – he no longer felt the love that he once had. He was completely numb to any positive feelings, constantly trapped in his own mind and drowning in self loathing. He found himself to be a horrible person, rude, greedy and ungrateful.

And Yoongi realized that his soulmate didn’t need someone like him. He didn’t want to doom someone to spending a lifetime with such an awful person as himself.

So he’d stopped writing. He was trying to distance himself from his own soulmate, which was silly considering the unbreakable bond between them. Most people used the bond to arrange a meeting, unable to wait for faith to put them together. Besides, some people never meet their soulmates and they do it to avoid that scenario.

Yoongi didn’t want to meet his soulmate. He wanted to forget that they even existed, but it was a bit hard to do so when they kept drawing on their arms. Yoongi would often wake up with entire galaxies drawn on his skin, complete with their own planets, stars and made up constellations. They were different every time and Yoongi often caught himself staring at the drawings until they faded from his skin. Often time random phrases appeared on his palm, song lyrics, grocery lists and what suspiciously looked like cheat notes.

But Yoongi couldn’t even bring himself to smile at such things. He did his best to ignore them and move on with his life.

As things only kept going downhill for Yoongi, one day he found himself utterly alone. He was curled up on the floor in a corner of his room, head between his knees. He was biting his fist to muffle his sobs, he felt like screaming, but didn’t want to risk anyone hearing him. It wasn’t just that he lived alone, he had also realized that he had no one to call, no one to talk to, no one that would care. His phone was left by his side, long forgotten since a couple of hours ago when he’d gone through his contacts, trying to find anyone he could reach out to, tell them that he was hurting and that he desperately needed help. But there was no one. He didn’t want to bother anyone, so he was once again left to deal with it on his own.

Only one possibility was left, something that he really didn’t want to do. But as hours dragged on and he only got worse, Yoongi somehow managed to convince himself to do it. He knew that it was wrong to just appear out of nowhere after 12 years and he knew that it was selfish to come to someone as a last resort, but he was desperate. He needed to talk to someone or he’d go crazy.

He crawled over to his desk and grabbed a pen before curling up again. His hand shook as he tried to figure out what to say. He ended up scribbling the only coherent thought in his mind,

‘I’m sorry.’

Soon enough, a line of question marks appeared on his wrist as an answer.

‘I’m sorry you ended up with me,’ he wrote.

‘Are you okay..?’

Yoongi shook his head as he started to write again, ‘I’m the worst soulmate out there. You must be really unlucky to have ended up with me. I’ll never be able to give you the love that you deserve. I’m just a horrible person. I’m really sorry.’

The message took up most of his forearm, all the way to his elbow. He had to wash his arm to be able to see the next reply,

‘Give me your number.’

He stared at it, unsure what to think. He had to think it through before answering.

‘It’s for the best if we stay apart. I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘You already did.’

Yoongi’s eyes filled with tears yet again as he read it. He contemplated just giving up, since he’d already messed up. But new words appeared on his skin,

‘I have a few things to tell you and not enough room on my arm to write it down. Give me your number.’

Yoongi hesitated, but for some stupid reason ended up writing his number anyway.

Just a couple of minutes later, his phone rang.

He picked up without a word and the other person immediately started talking.

“First of all,” It was a male voice, and a beautiful one at that. Yoongi stayed quiet and listened to what he had to say, “Who are you to tell me that I’m unlucky? I happen to be very lucky and I firmly believe that you can only make my life better. Come on, we’re soulmates. It doesn’t really matter what kind of a person you are, I’m bound to love you one way or another, romantic or not. Let me decide, hm? Don’t tell me what’s best of me before you’ve even tried. And if you think you can’t love me – that’s alright. Let me love you, okay? And maybe you’ll learn to love in time.” He took a deep breath after finishing the sentence.

Yoongi started to choke on air, covering his mouth as he sobbed.

“Hey… Are you okay?” The other person sounded panicked, all the confidence with which he’d given the speech now gone, “I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry..”

“I’m fine,” Yoongi whispered. “I need a minute.”

The line was silent as Yoongi cried his heart out. When he was able to speak again, he wiped his eyes and said, “You’re the only person who’s ever believed in me and you don’t even know me. I’m terrified of letting you down.”

“Let me be the judge of that, hm? And don’t worry so much, geez. I get it, you make all these assumptions because you’re insecure and you’re trying to present yourself in the worst possible light because you don’t want either of us to get hurt. You want to prepare me for the worst, but why don’t you let me get to know you first?”

“Okay,” Yoongi muttered, closing his eyes.

There was a brief silence before the other spoke again, “Well… Since we’re already here… Mind telling me your name?”

“Min Yoongi,” he said flatly.

“I’m Kim Seokjin. I’m looking forward to talking to you more. We don’t have to meet right away if you wanna take it easy, but please call me if you’re feeling like this again.”

“Okay.” Yoongi took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes. “Thank you, really. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.”

“Don’t apologize. I want you to be okay.”

Yoongi let a moment of silence pass before he thought of something, “I love your drawings,” he blurted out.

“Thank you! And I loved your poems, when you used to write them.”

Yoongi groaned, rolling his eyes at his past self. “Oh god, don’t remind me. They were horrible. I like to believe I’ve grown as a writer.”

“So you still write? What do you write?” Seokjin actually sounded interested. Yoongi figured it would go away soon as no one truly cared about his music.

“Ugh, I’m like… a wannabe rapper.”

“I’m sure you’re amazing. Do you have any songs recorded?”

“No, just some lyrics. I’m hoping to record some demos soon, but I’m not sure when.” He sighed.

“You have my support, Yoongi.”

“Thank you.”

There was some noise on the other side and Seokjin cursed under his breath. “I gotta go. My roommate broke something again. Try to get some sleep, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Yoongi promised.

“If I were with you, I’d cook for you or make you tea or whatever you like. But since I can’t, take care of yourself for me, okay?”

Yoongi teared up again, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he’d gotten used to being alone so much that he had no idea how to react to someone expressing concern for him.

“I’ll try,” he whispered.

“Talk to you soon.” Seokjin hung up.

Yoongi stared at his phone for a while, letting the tears roll down his cheeks. When he tried to pick himself up from the floor, he realized that it wasn’t as hard as it had been a couple of hours ago. He felt like a part of the burden on his chest had been lifted; not much, but enough for him to be able to breathe again.

He had just enough strength to put himself to bed, like he’d promised Jin he would.