Mark Up My Soul 5/?
Title: Mark Up My Soul 5/?
Pairing: Yoongi/Jungkook (BTS)
Rating: Eventual NC17
Disclaimer: They are slowly taking over my soul to the point that I almost feel like I might be able to own them.
Summary: Jeon Jungkook’s soul mark is a music staff tattooed on his forearm. Every now and then a flare of pain will burn its way up his arm and another note is added. The strangest thing about the newest mark is that it isn’t a note and it isn’t black. It’s just a smudge. Of color. Mint green in the center, fading to deep blue around the edges.
Min Yoongi’s soul mark tattoo is a smudge of dark ink with faded thin lines of white scratched into it. If he squints, the scars sort of look like a music staff. When a new burst of pain manifests as a mint green music note in the darkest spot of black, Yoongi curses fate and his inability to stay away from all things cute. Because soul marks lie, and fate is a cruel bitch from hell.
A/N: This fic isn't done. I'm not sure how consistent I will be with updates
BTS from left to right = Taehyung (V), Yoongi (Suga), Seokjin (Jin, Third from the left guy), Jungkook, Namjoon (Rap Monster, RapMon, RM), Jimin, Hoseok (Hobi, JHope),
Part 5:
Yoongi should have known this was a bad idea. It is a bad idea. The dinner is good. The barbecue is good, but it’s everything else that is fucked up.
Mainly the constant bit of a throb on his arm. Fuck.
Seokjin-hyung absolutely cooed over Jungkook, pinching his cheeks and asking him all kinds of questions.
Jungkook curled in on himself for the first few minutes, until Taehyung managed to slot himself between the two, putting Jungkook between his two best friends.
Seokjin-hyung has never really cared who to shower with love, so his touches and happy noises are directed at Taehyung instead. Taehyung is obviously much better at dealing with it. Though Jimin is not. He is glaring at Jin-hyung’s hand on Taehyung’s neck, the soft fingers curling over his shoulder and into the neck of his shirt. Seokjin-hyung obviously doesn’t know about them hooking up, as Jungkook said. From Yoongi’s perspective, it looks like it was more than just hooking up.
With so many of them at the table, it’s really easy to stay quiet and listen, laugh at something funny, groan and grouse when Jin-hyung says some stupid joke.
He says nothing after Jungkook and Jimin’s whispered conversation that has them trading places, and putting Jungkook next to Yoongi and Jimin pressed tight against Taehyung. He notices how Taehyung smiles and leans against Jimin’s body instead, and then that’s when Jungkook plops his head on Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Tired,” Jungkook whispers.
Yoongi hums, but doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth to reply without confessing his love. He takes another shot of soju instead. He has definitely had enough, and he can smell alcohol on the kid’s breath too. He blames Hoseok.
Jungkook whines a bit and presses closer, and Yoongi lifts an arm because it’s more comfortable. Jungkook settles against his chest with a sigh. His hand is shaking where it lays against Yoongi’s stomach.
Yoongi notices five different looks pointed their way. Only Jimin is glaring, but it’s more of a “you better not fuck this up or I’ll fuck you up” sort of a glare than any kind of protest.
Seokjin-hyung is preening, and as always, Hobi has his phone out and is taking pictures of them. Of everyone really.
Yoongi flips them all off.
“Should get the babies home,” Namjoon says.
Yoongi realizes that it is after one a.m.
“Yeah,” Seokjin-hyung agrees. “Us too. Ugh, I’m drunk.”
“Kid,” Yoongi whispers, “it’s time to go.”
“Don’t wanna get up,” Jungkook says, lips against Yoongi’s neck.
Yoongi chuckles. “I know, but come on.”
It takes all of them some maneuvering before they manage to stumble out into the chilly spring air.
Seokjin-hyung hugs Jungkook tightly, whispering something in his ear.
Taehyung moves over to Yoongi and holds out his phone. Confused, Yoongi takes it and reads a series of text messages between Taehyung and Jungkook’s mother. She is worried and upset, but Taehyung has sent her pictures showing that Jungkook is fine, that they’re all just hanging out.
“Jungkook doesn’t want to go home,” Taehyung whispers. “His father is going to be home tomorrow and that isn’t going to be a good thing for him right now. He can’t come to me or Jimin’s--”
“Why not?”
“It’s the first place his parents will check, and our parents are friends. They’ll rat him out before he manages two steps in the door.”
“So ...”
“Take him home, please.”
Yoongi sighs and shakes his head. “That is a really, really bad idea.”
Taehyung smirks at him. “Jin-hyung was right. You really do fight against yourself too much.”
Yoongi lifts an eyebrow, and Taehyung lifts one back. “Punk,” Yoongi finally mutters. He lights a cigarette so he doesn’t have to talk to him anymore.
Namjoon takes charge of taxis, pouring a drunken Hobi into one and asks the driver to wait a moment while they figure things out.
“We’re taking Hobi with us,” Seokjin says. “Yoongi sucks at taking care of drunk people.”
Yoongi shrugs. “It’s his own fault. Why should I help him?”
“What about you two?” Namjoon asks, turning to the other young ones.
“I don’t want to go home,” Taehyung says, his longer body curled around Jimin’s. His face is pressed against Jimin’s neck, his arm tight around his waist.
“Can we go with you, hyung?” Jimin asks Seokjin-hyung with a firm pout.
Seokjin-hyung frowns and then nods. “You should really go home, but I can’t ever say no to you two.”
“What about Jungkook?”
“I’m taking him with me,” Yoongi says, and rolls his eyes at the glare Seokjin-hyung shoots at him. “Shut up, hyung, it’s fine. He doesn’t want to go home either.”
“Is that okay with you, Jungkookie?” Seokjin asks.
Jungkook nods. “Yeah, hyung. I ... I ... don’t want to go home.”
“You can come with us.”
“I want to go with Yoongi-hyung.”
Seokjin looks at him with suspicion, but the four of them eventually climb into the cab with Hoseok and leave them both alone. Jungkook moves to his side and curls up against his body. He’s still a little tipsy from the soju.
“You should go home,” Yoongi whispers in his warm neck.
“I don’t want to go home,” Jungkook says.
Yoongi waits until his cigarette is gone before gently pushing Jungkook away from him. “Come on. I live close enough to walk. I’m not wasting money on a cab.”
They walk slow, mostly because Jungkook isn’t paying attention, ambling from one side of the sidewalk to the other, stopping to read signs or laugh at silly things in windows. Yoongi watches, chest tight with happiness. And something else. He’s adorable. Cute and everything that Yoongi isn’t.
Is that what a soulmate is? Fills all the empty spaces inside of yourself?
Yoongi likes that line a lot, and he curses that he doesn’t have a notebook with him. He takes out his phone instead and opens a new text message to himself.
You fill all the empty spaces inside of myself. Do I fill yours? What do you see in me that makes you want to be with me? For you, I see sunshine and blue skies pushing back the storm clouds. Rain that makes the grass grow and flowers bright.
He snorts at himself, at how corny it sounds, but he doesn’t delete it, just sends it to himself so he can have it when he needs it.
Jungkook dances a little. Twirls around him, humming under his breath.
“I thought you were tired, kid,” Yoongi says.
“I am, but if I stop moving, I am going to fall asleep.”
Yoongi laughs. “Same here. Let’s make sure we get back to our place.”
“Our?” Jungkook questions.
Yoongi chokes. “Um, Hobi, he’s my roommate.” Nice save, Yoongi, you asshole. He really hopes that Jungkook thinks his blush is from being drunk. Jungkook hasn’t even been to his apartment yet, and he’s already thinking about them being together, sharing space, filling space ... filling each other.
Fuck.
He lights another cigarette even though his hands are already shaking.
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“I wouldn’t have expected you to know that.”
Jungkook suddenly flings his arms wide and tilts his head back. “It feels weird to be ... bad.”
Yoongi tries not to choke on his cigarette. “What?”
“I ... I haven’t ever ... ever ... ever been bad, you know? Like. I never ... I’m always the good boy.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Yoongi flings the cigarette to the ground and tries not to imagine himself telling Jungkook what a good boy he is.
“I’m not sure I like it,” Jungkook continues. “I’m worried a lot. I don’t want to be in trouble. I don’t want to fuck up my chances of going to college.”
“It’s one day,” Yoongi says. “You’ll be okay.”
“My mom is really going to hate you now.”
“Your mom needs to realize that you can make your own decisions and not to blame it on me.”
“Yeah.”
Yoongi leads the way into his building and up to his apartment. It’s pretty small, and Yoongi’s room is more like a closet without an actual closet, but he and Hobi get along well. They’re both pretty clean, Yoongi can cook, and Hobi cleans up. They have strange hours, and neither minds a bit of loud music. Or alcohol.
Or slipping into each other’s bed when they need to.
“Seokjin-hyung found me at a perfect time in my life,” Yoongi says, his voice a little loud in the darkness. He turns on a lamp near the couch. “I was just destructive enough to refuse his help, and then just desperate enough to take it when he offered it anyway. Hobi was living here by himself, and I ... I moved in with him after Seokjin-hyung ... Yeah.”
Jungkook frowns and moves toward him.
Yoongi pretends he didn’t notice and moves away from him, to the kitchen for some water for both of them. They share a bottle of water that’s too cold on Yoongi’s tongue.
“Ugh, hyung, I’m so tired.”
Yoongi can’t remember when he told Jungkook it’s okay to call him hyung. He ignores the need to point that out.
Yoongi settles on the couch, and Jungkook falls next to him, head leaning back.
Yoongi stares at the ceiling. Part of him wants to fill the silence. Part of him wants the couch to swallow him whole. But most of him wants to get this pretty boy on his knees and naked.
“Hyung?” Jungkook whispers.
Yoongi makes a noise to show he is listening.
“I like you. A lot of things, about you. I do. I ... I ... Seokjin-hyung told me that I had to be patient, that you didn’t like soul marks or destiny.”
Silence settles between them. Yoongi teeters between asleep and awake.
“It’s kinda scary,” Jungkook says, his voice even lower. “Because the marks only give an impression, not even a name or a face or anything, about who is important in your life, but it’s someone that can affect your life. It doesn’t mean it’s good.”
Yoongi hums in agreement. For Yoongi, it’s never been good. But this ... with Jungkook. Maybe it will be good this time. Maybe there won’t be any pain involved.
Hopeful lyrics and a winding melody shift through his cloudy head and he thinks later that he fell asleep with a smile on his face, pressed up tight against the prettiest boy he’s ever seen.
--- ☼ --- ♪ --- ☼ ---
That morning, pain flares on seven different arms. Only one of them sleeps through it, curled up against the strong chest of their youngest and held tight in his musical dreams.
--- ☼ --- ♪ --- ☼ ---
Group Chat: BeaTSquad
Seokjin:
Y’all get one of these last night? Namjoon and I have one.
Taehyung has changed his name to VMINHOPE
VMINHOPE:
OMG WHAT IS IT?
Jiminie has one mixed in with his dance steps!
Mine is part of my garden!
Seokjin:
It’s a new soul mark, V.
VMINHOPE:
But I already have one for you!
Seokjin:
Well, obviously it means something else.
VMINHOPE:
Something awesome!
What about Jungkookie and Suga?
Seokjin:
It’s only 8 on a Sunday. They’re still sleeping.
Yoongi:
I was until my phone was shouting at me with notifications. Aren’t you in the same fucking house?
Seokjin:
After what I heard last night, I ain’t daring enough to go see what is left of my guest bedroom.
VMINHOPE
Or what’s left of Hobi-hyung!
Yoongi:
You mean, Namjoon’s room, right?
Seokjin:
Yeah ... that’s what I meant. Nam’s room.
VMINHOPE
Don’t worry, hyung
We didn’t break the bed. Might have broken Hobi-hyung. He’s never had a dick like mine.
Yoongi:
I really don’t want to know.
VMINHOPE has changed Yoongi’s name to NOT FUN HYUNG
NOT FUN HYUNG has changed his name to V’s Gonna Die
Seokjin has changed V’s Gonna Die’s name to Yoongi
Seokjin:
Stop it, both of you.
Yoongi:
Yes, Mom.
VMINHOPE:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Does this make Namjoon our dad?
Do you call him Daddy?
Seokjin has left the conversation.
Yoongi:
Wow ... yeah ... nope. I’m out.
VMINHOPE:
DON’T LEAVE ME ALL ALONE!!!
Yoongi has left the conversation.
VMINHOPE:
>:|
I hate you all.
Except Jiminie because he has such a nice butt.
And Hoseokie because he has such a nice dick. Mmm, and really great thighs.
I wonder what Hoseokie will think about waking up to a dick in his ass.
Fuck, that’s something I should talk to him about first though.
Consent is sexy, kids. Don’t forget that.
And now I’m horny.
And all alone.
Namjoon:
DONT MASTURABATE ON MY COUCH!
VMINHOPE:
DADDY!
VMINHOPE has changed Namjoon’s name to DaddyRapper
DaddyRapper has left the conversation.
VMIN:
Ooh, maybe Daddy is coming to give me spankings.
I think I’m going to die now. Goodbye sexy world
--- ☼ --- ♪ --- ☼ ---
Yoongi wants to go back to sleep, but he can’t. His arm is on fire. The new weird symbol on his arm sits directly above Jungkook’s music note. It’s a pale outline, the color of his skin, not like Seokjin’s or Taehyung’s that were blocks of color. The color of his skin, breaking through the darkness that surrounds it. He isn’t sure how that’s possible.
Jungkook’s matches Yoongi’s. A black outline of two trapezoids right above the mint smudge on his music staff.
Jungkook is still asleep, curled up in a ball on Yoongi’s couch. He woke up long enough to drink some water, and then went right back to sleep.
Yoongi doesn’t want to disturb him, or leave him alone, so he sits on the floor, back pressed against the couch with his small keyboard on his lap, earbuds in his ears, and starts playing random notes. They stay in major keys, lower on the scale. Without really meaning to, they form a little bit of a song. He stands only long enough to get a pen to write them down.
He is so lost in the music that the touch to his neck has him jumping in surprise.
Right. He isn’t alone.
Even his music is reminding him of that lately.
Titling his head up, Yoongi smiles at Jungkook.
Jungkook smiles back and then yawns.
“How are you feeling?”
“A bit of a headache. Okay, though.” He looks down at his arm, at the new mark there. “I thought the pain was a dream. It wasn’t as bad as when yours showed up.”
“I didn’t even wake up,” Yoongi says.
“It’s weird ... to have a second one, right?”
“That’s not even the weirdest part. We all have it.”
“What?”
“All of us. Seokjin-hyung, Namjoon, Hobi, Taehyung and Jimin. All of us.”
“Wow. That’s ... weird, right?”
“Yeah. Pretty weird. But hey, fate?”
“You don’t believe in fate.”
“Yes, I do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck fate up if I get a chance.”
Jungkook winces and sags into the couch.
“Do you need anything?” Yoongi whispers.
“Not ... yet ... just ... relax a bit.”
Yoongi hums and turns back to his computer. He removes the earbuds so the music is soft in the living room.
Jungkook inhales sharply, and Yoongi glances back and up at him. He’s looking at his phone, worrying his lower lip. The only thing Yoongi can think of is the group text that Seokjin started, but considering their previous conversation about the new marks, that makes no sense. His mother maybe?
“What is it?” Yoongi whispers.
Jungkook shuts his eyes, but turns the phone so that Yoongi can see. It’s their text message history.
And a text that Yoongi thought he sent himself.
“Fuck, kid. Sorry. I ... I had lyrics in my head last night and I thought I sent them to myself.”
Jungkook’s breath speeds up a little and he stammers, “S-so you ... you don’t ... you don’t feel ... that way, about me?”
And Yoongi understands. He puts the keyboard to the side and crawls up on the couch, hovering over Jungkook with his knees at Jungkook’s hips. The kid looks like he’s going to cry, or ... something. Yoongi can’t tell. He’s obviously hungover and his emotions are amplified. Yoongi can almost see his heartbreak in his chest, the way his breath hitches and he bites his lips, rapidly blinking his eyes.
Still so cute.
Yoongi cups his cheek, thumb soft just under his eye. “I take inspiration for my lyrics and my music from my life, my friends, my situation, those around me. The last few days all I have been able to write and think is bright, high and major key, happy sappy shit. I didn't mean to send that to you, but if it wasn’t for you, I never would feel that way, this way, just ...”
Yoongi swipes his thumb at the corner of Jungkook’s pretty mouth, thin upper lip, plump lower lip, scratching his nail over the beauty mark. Jungkook’s eyes shut and he lifts a hand to grip Yoongi’s wrist. His other hand settles on Yoongi’s hip and he shifts, sinking a little deeper into the couch and settling under Yoongi like he belongs there.
And god, does Yoongi want him to belong there.
“Those lyrics are about you,” Yoongi says and pats his cheek to emphasize. “Hoseokie may have the literal sun shining from his ass, but you’re the only thing right now that’s making my life bright.”
Yoongi blushes, so does Jungkook, and Yoongi huffs and shouts at him, giving him a slightly firmer slap. “You punk. I’m supposed to be dark and mysterious and ... fuck, Jungkook-ah, you make me want to write love songs.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen and his smile turns the dark apartment into a galaxy of stars.
“Shit,” Yoongi says and leans over the couch to grab his laptop.
Jungkook’s hands tighten on his hips to steady him, and he plops the laptop right on Jungkook’s stomach (ignoring the way it obviously tightens up with fucking muscles, thank you very much) and starts fumbling through more lyrics to go with those that he’d accidentally sent to Jungkook.
Your smile turns my dark world into
A galaxy of stars in an empty universe
When Something warms the cold
Something melts the ice
Your laughter calms my shaking soul
A melody of marks on a ruined canvas
When Something heats the night
Something burns the skin
And Yoongi stops before whatever is supposed to be romantic turns into sexy. Not the time to be thinking that when he’s sitting on Jungkook’s crotch.
He tosses the laptop back to the floor and smiles. “Sorry.”
“You going to let me read them?”
“When it’s ready, I’m going to let you sing them.”
Jungkook smiles widely, and then it stops and he looks downs, at how Yoongi is still straddling his lap and his fingers tighten on Yoongi’s waist.
“I’m sorry, kid,” Yoongi whispers. “Sorry for being distant, for, as Jin-hyung says, fighting with myself. You’re going to be important in my life and I want you to be a part of my life, and ...”
Yoongi tilts his head back and messes with the hem of his long-sleeve T-shirt. Without thinking further, he tugs it up and over his head.
Jungkook gasps in surprise, body going tense.
Yoongi holds out his arm. “When I was thirteen, I felt a mark burn on my skin.” He presses a finger to a really thick scar almost in the bend of his elbow. “Right here. It was the very first time I had ever felt anything on my soul mark. My mother told me that it wasn’t right, that I should have felt one already, so I thought it was broken before then. I still thought it was. Because I couldn’t see anything. There was nothing in the dark smudge. And then I met my uncle for the first time the next day. He lived in Japan for business, and recently moved back to Korea.”
Jungkook’s eyes went wide.
Yoongi nods. “I was really excited. It was the first time I had felt a soul mark on my arm. I told him all about it, and he smiled and promised he’d be important in my life. But he used it against me. Manipulated it against me. My mom ... she never knew, no one ever knew, because he said it was a secret, it was our thing. When I ... when I finally accused him, he denied it and no one believed me.”
Yoongi’s chest tightens. It still hurts to talk about, to think about. “He told me I was broken, that there wasn’t anything on my soul mark, it was just a black smudge. There wasn’t any proof. I felt it there and I knew it, but he said it wasn’t true. No one believed me, and thought I was doing it to get attention because my soul mark was broken.”
Jungkook whines a little in his throat, and Yoongi smiles down at him. “He fucked me up. And after that, my family ... no one in my family supported me. My father started beating me for the stain I caused on the family name. My mother ignored me. My hyung tried to be supportive, but too supportive and he received the same treatment. The only thing that dulled the pain was making more of it, so I dug out the spot where that soul mark was. I started slicing through it when I was fourteen. And in other places.” He trails his fingers along the scars on his ribs and stomach.
Jungkook is trying not to cry, his breath a little faster, his eyes watery.
Yoongi sighs and lays down on top of his chest, tucked under his chin. Jungkook hugs him tightly, running shaking hands up and down his bare back.
“Rap let me express myself and all the anger inside me. I stopped playing the piano, dropped out of school and left home at fifteen. I moved here with nothing but a backpack full of shit. It didn’t take me long to figure out how to make money or how to find drugs. Men will pay a lot for pretty boys on the street.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook gasps.
Yoongi tilts his head up and smiles. “I had absolutely nothing. Nothing but drugs and sex and music. And the pain. The drugs dulled it, but I wanted to feel it. It proved that I wasn’t broken, that I could hurt. And it proved that soul marks were wrong. And then along came Seokjin. I can’t even remember the first time we met, the first time he took me home and let me sleep or the first time he fed me. It’s all buried somewhere in drugs and pain. I have no idea where his mark is on my tattoo. He refuses to touch my tattoo to find it. He says that fate is not why he helped me, even though on his tattoo there is a mark for me. He helped me because I needed him to. He cleaned me up, supported me, helped me finish high school, let me live with him, got me a job. I ... I was a few days, maybe weeks away from utterly destroying myself when he came into my life.”
Jungkook is crying now, carding his hands through Yoongi’s hair.
“I like you a lot, kid. I don’t think I’m good enough for you and you don’t deserve to be with someone so broken, but fuck the fates, they want you to be important in my life, and they want me to be important in yours. I have no problem ignoring it, no problem at all keeping myself away from you so I don’t hurt you, and so you’re not hurt.” Yoongi wipes at Jungkook’s tears. “I know that very first soul mark signified my uncle. He was really important in my life, but not in a good way. I don’t want to be that for you.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “You won’t,” he gasps, his voice low and raspy. “You won’t be.”
Yoongi lifts his head again and meets his eyes. “It’s not really the time but, fuck, I want to kiss you.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen and he nods frantically. “Okay ...”
Yoongi laughs and sits back up. He cups Jungkook’s face in his hands and leans down to press their lips together. Short, just a touch and then he pulls aways with a smile and traces his cheek with his thumb.
“I really, really like you,” Yoongi whispers, leaning down for another kiss..
“I like you too, hyung.” And another kiss.
Yoongi smiles against his mouth and keeps kissing him. It’s obvious that Jungkook doesn't have a lot of experience with kissing, so Yoongi keeps the touch of lips slow, the lick of his tongue soft. Jungkook almost writhes under him, his breath heavy through his nose. The grip on his waist tightens, fingers flexing with each one of Jungkook’s gasps. It isn’t long before something hard is poking Yoongi on his thigh.
Right. Seventeen.
Yoongi pulls always slowly, not wanting to release his lips, but not wanting to do anything more. He smiles at the way Jungkook shuts his eyes, tries to reign in his breathing. Yoongi trails his fingers down his taut neck and then falls against his chest, curled up under his chin again. Jungkook’s hands shake as they settle on Yoongi’s back. His fingers catch the only scar there, just below his shoulder blade, a cigarette burn from his uncle. It’s such a contrasting touch to the original press of pain.
“What should we do today?” he asks.
“I need to go home,” Jungkook whispers.
“Yeah. But you’re already in trouble, might as well milk it.”
“I’m going to be grounded forever.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Can I ... can I take a picture?” he asks, dragging a finger down Yoongi’s arm. “Just the part where our soul marks match, so I can send it to her?”
“Sure, kid.”
“And I feel gross. Can I shower?”
“Yes. I’ll make us something to eat while you do.”
But neither moves, neither wanting to, and Yoongi smiles against his T-shirt. Jungkook’s touches lose their trepidation and his palms press a little harder on his back, fingertips light on his side and ribs. God, it feels nice. Yoongi bites his lip hard to keep from moaning.
Eventually, Yoongi rises, feeling the pull of the music. They both get up and Jungkook goes to the bathroom and Yoongi sits on the couch, the melody swimming in his head. He stops long enough to grab some of Hoseok’s clothes for Jungkook to change into, and then his stomach grumbles, and he remembers that he was supposed to cook.
“Let’s go out instead,” Yoongi says when Jungkook emerges. “It’s almost noon. Time for a drunkard’s breakfast.”
Jungkook laughs and agrees.
(A/N: Tattoo images were found just by google. If they're yours and you want me to remove them, just let me know.)
--- ☼ --- ♪ --- ☼ ---
Part 6: Dancing Around
Part 4: Cuddles
Part 3: Selcas and Secrets
Part 2: Music and a Heart
Part 1: Mint Green Smudge
.
Pairing: Yoongi/Jungkook (BTS)
Rating: Eventual NC17
Disclaimer: They are slowly taking over my soul to the point that I almost feel like I might be able to own them.
Summary: Jeon Jungkook’s soul mark is a music staff tattooed on his forearm. Every now and then a flare of pain will burn its way up his arm and another note is added. The strangest thing about the newest mark is that it isn’t a note and it isn’t black. It’s just a smudge. Of color. Mint green in the center, fading to deep blue around the edges.
Min Yoongi’s soul mark tattoo is a smudge of dark ink with faded thin lines of white scratched into it. If he squints, the scars sort of look like a music staff. When a new burst of pain manifests as a mint green music note in the darkest spot of black, Yoongi curses fate and his inability to stay away from all things cute. Because soul marks lie, and fate is a cruel bitch from hell.
A/N: This fic isn't done. I'm not sure how consistent I will be with updates
BTS from left to right = Taehyung (V), Yoongi (Suga), Seokjin (Jin, Third from the left guy), Jungkook, Namjoon (Rap Monster, RapMon, RM), Jimin, Hoseok (Hobi, JHope),
Part 5:
Yoongi should have known this was a bad idea. It is a bad idea. The dinner is good. The barbecue is good, but it’s everything else that is fucked up.
Mainly the constant bit of a throb on his arm. Fuck.
Seokjin-hyung absolutely cooed over Jungkook, pinching his cheeks and asking him all kinds of questions.
Jungkook curled in on himself for the first few minutes, until Taehyung managed to slot himself between the two, putting Jungkook between his two best friends.
Seokjin-hyung has never really cared who to shower with love, so his touches and happy noises are directed at Taehyung instead. Taehyung is obviously much better at dealing with it. Though Jimin is not. He is glaring at Jin-hyung’s hand on Taehyung’s neck, the soft fingers curling over his shoulder and into the neck of his shirt. Seokjin-hyung obviously doesn’t know about them hooking up, as Jungkook said. From Yoongi’s perspective, it looks like it was more than just hooking up.
With so many of them at the table, it’s really easy to stay quiet and listen, laugh at something funny, groan and grouse when Jin-hyung says some stupid joke.
He says nothing after Jungkook and Jimin’s whispered conversation that has them trading places, and putting Jungkook next to Yoongi and Jimin pressed tight against Taehyung. He notices how Taehyung smiles and leans against Jimin’s body instead, and then that’s when Jungkook plops his head on Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Tired,” Jungkook whispers.
Yoongi hums, but doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth to reply without confessing his love. He takes another shot of soju instead. He has definitely had enough, and he can smell alcohol on the kid’s breath too. He blames Hoseok.
Jungkook whines a bit and presses closer, and Yoongi lifts an arm because it’s more comfortable. Jungkook settles against his chest with a sigh. His hand is shaking where it lays against Yoongi’s stomach.
Yoongi notices five different looks pointed their way. Only Jimin is glaring, but it’s more of a “you better not fuck this up or I’ll fuck you up” sort of a glare than any kind of protest.
Seokjin-hyung is preening, and as always, Hobi has his phone out and is taking pictures of them. Of everyone really.
Yoongi flips them all off.
“Should get the babies home,” Namjoon says.
Yoongi realizes that it is after one a.m.
“Yeah,” Seokjin-hyung agrees. “Us too. Ugh, I’m drunk.”
“Kid,” Yoongi whispers, “it’s time to go.”
“Don’t wanna get up,” Jungkook says, lips against Yoongi’s neck.
Yoongi chuckles. “I know, but come on.”
It takes all of them some maneuvering before they manage to stumble out into the chilly spring air.
Seokjin-hyung hugs Jungkook tightly, whispering something in his ear.
Taehyung moves over to Yoongi and holds out his phone. Confused, Yoongi takes it and reads a series of text messages between Taehyung and Jungkook’s mother. She is worried and upset, but Taehyung has sent her pictures showing that Jungkook is fine, that they’re all just hanging out.
“Jungkook doesn’t want to go home,” Taehyung whispers. “His father is going to be home tomorrow and that isn’t going to be a good thing for him right now. He can’t come to me or Jimin’s--”
“Why not?”
“It’s the first place his parents will check, and our parents are friends. They’ll rat him out before he manages two steps in the door.”
“So ...”
“Take him home, please.”
Yoongi sighs and shakes his head. “That is a really, really bad idea.”
Taehyung smirks at him. “Jin-hyung was right. You really do fight against yourself too much.”
Yoongi lifts an eyebrow, and Taehyung lifts one back. “Punk,” Yoongi finally mutters. He lights a cigarette so he doesn’t have to talk to him anymore.
Namjoon takes charge of taxis, pouring a drunken Hobi into one and asks the driver to wait a moment while they figure things out.
“We’re taking Hobi with us,” Seokjin says. “Yoongi sucks at taking care of drunk people.”
Yoongi shrugs. “It’s his own fault. Why should I help him?”
“What about you two?” Namjoon asks, turning to the other young ones.
“I don’t want to go home,” Taehyung says, his longer body curled around Jimin’s. His face is pressed against Jimin’s neck, his arm tight around his waist.
“Can we go with you, hyung?” Jimin asks Seokjin-hyung with a firm pout.
Seokjin-hyung frowns and then nods. “You should really go home, but I can’t ever say no to you two.”
“What about Jungkook?”
“I’m taking him with me,” Yoongi says, and rolls his eyes at the glare Seokjin-hyung shoots at him. “Shut up, hyung, it’s fine. He doesn’t want to go home either.”
“Is that okay with you, Jungkookie?” Seokjin asks.
Jungkook nods. “Yeah, hyung. I ... I ... don’t want to go home.”
“You can come with us.”
“I want to go with Yoongi-hyung.”
Seokjin looks at him with suspicion, but the four of them eventually climb into the cab with Hoseok and leave them both alone. Jungkook moves to his side and curls up against his body. He’s still a little tipsy from the soju.
“You should go home,” Yoongi whispers in his warm neck.
“I don’t want to go home,” Jungkook says.
Yoongi waits until his cigarette is gone before gently pushing Jungkook away from him. “Come on. I live close enough to walk. I’m not wasting money on a cab.”
They walk slow, mostly because Jungkook isn’t paying attention, ambling from one side of the sidewalk to the other, stopping to read signs or laugh at silly things in windows. Yoongi watches, chest tight with happiness. And something else. He’s adorable. Cute and everything that Yoongi isn’t.
Is that what a soulmate is? Fills all the empty spaces inside of yourself?
Yoongi likes that line a lot, and he curses that he doesn’t have a notebook with him. He takes out his phone instead and opens a new text message to himself.
You fill all the empty spaces inside of myself. Do I fill yours? What do you see in me that makes you want to be with me? For you, I see sunshine and blue skies pushing back the storm clouds. Rain that makes the grass grow and flowers bright.
He snorts at himself, at how corny it sounds, but he doesn’t delete it, just sends it to himself so he can have it when he needs it.
Jungkook dances a little. Twirls around him, humming under his breath.
“I thought you were tired, kid,” Yoongi says.
“I am, but if I stop moving, I am going to fall asleep.”
Yoongi laughs. “Same here. Let’s make sure we get back to our place.”
“Our?” Jungkook questions.
Yoongi chokes. “Um, Hobi, he’s my roommate.” Nice save, Yoongi, you asshole. He really hopes that Jungkook thinks his blush is from being drunk. Jungkook hasn’t even been to his apartment yet, and he’s already thinking about them being together, sharing space, filling space ... filling each other.
Fuck.
He lights another cigarette even though his hands are already shaking.
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“I wouldn’t have expected you to know that.”
Jungkook suddenly flings his arms wide and tilts his head back. “It feels weird to be ... bad.”
Yoongi tries not to choke on his cigarette. “What?”
“I ... I haven’t ever ... ever ... ever been bad, you know? Like. I never ... I’m always the good boy.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Yoongi flings the cigarette to the ground and tries not to imagine himself telling Jungkook what a good boy he is.
“I’m not sure I like it,” Jungkook continues. “I’m worried a lot. I don’t want to be in trouble. I don’t want to fuck up my chances of going to college.”
“It’s one day,” Yoongi says. “You’ll be okay.”
“My mom is really going to hate you now.”
“Your mom needs to realize that you can make your own decisions and not to blame it on me.”
“Yeah.”
Yoongi leads the way into his building and up to his apartment. It’s pretty small, and Yoongi’s room is more like a closet without an actual closet, but he and Hobi get along well. They’re both pretty clean, Yoongi can cook, and Hobi cleans up. They have strange hours, and neither minds a bit of loud music. Or alcohol.
Or slipping into each other’s bed when they need to.
“Seokjin-hyung found me at a perfect time in my life,” Yoongi says, his voice a little loud in the darkness. He turns on a lamp near the couch. “I was just destructive enough to refuse his help, and then just desperate enough to take it when he offered it anyway. Hobi was living here by himself, and I ... I moved in with him after Seokjin-hyung ... Yeah.”
Jungkook frowns and moves toward him.
Yoongi pretends he didn’t notice and moves away from him, to the kitchen for some water for both of them. They share a bottle of water that’s too cold on Yoongi’s tongue.
“Ugh, hyung, I’m so tired.”
Yoongi can’t remember when he told Jungkook it’s okay to call him hyung. He ignores the need to point that out.
Yoongi settles on the couch, and Jungkook falls next to him, head leaning back.
Yoongi stares at the ceiling. Part of him wants to fill the silence. Part of him wants the couch to swallow him whole. But most of him wants to get this pretty boy on his knees and naked.
“Hyung?” Jungkook whispers.
Yoongi makes a noise to show he is listening.
“I like you. A lot of things, about you. I do. I ... I ... Seokjin-hyung told me that I had to be patient, that you didn’t like soul marks or destiny.”
Silence settles between them. Yoongi teeters between asleep and awake.
“It’s kinda scary,” Jungkook says, his voice even lower. “Because the marks only give an impression, not even a name or a face or anything, about who is important in your life, but it’s someone that can affect your life. It doesn’t mean it’s good.”
Yoongi hums in agreement. For Yoongi, it’s never been good. But this ... with Jungkook. Maybe it will be good this time. Maybe there won’t be any pain involved.
Hopeful lyrics and a winding melody shift through his cloudy head and he thinks later that he fell asleep with a smile on his face, pressed up tight against the prettiest boy he’s ever seen.
--- ☼ --- ♪ --- ☼ ---
That morning, pain flares on seven different arms. Only one of them sleeps through it, curled up against the strong chest of their youngest and held tight in his musical dreams.
--- ☼ --- ♪ --- ☼ ---
Group Chat: BeaTSquad
Seokjin:
Y’all get one of these last night? Namjoon and I have one.
Taehyung has changed his name to VMINHOPE
VMINHOPE:
OMG WHAT IS IT?
Jiminie has one mixed in with his dance steps!
Mine is part of my garden!
Seokjin:
It’s a new soul mark, V.
VMINHOPE:
But I already have one for you!
Seokjin:
Well, obviously it means something else.
VMINHOPE:
Something awesome!
What about Jungkookie and Suga?
Seokjin:
It’s only 8 on a Sunday. They’re still sleeping.
Yoongi:
I was until my phone was shouting at me with notifications. Aren’t you in the same fucking house?
Seokjin:
After what I heard last night, I ain’t daring enough to go see what is left of my guest bedroom.
VMINHOPE
Or what’s left of Hobi-hyung!
Yoongi:
You mean, Namjoon’s room, right?
Seokjin:
Yeah ... that’s what I meant. Nam’s room.
VMINHOPE
Don’t worry, hyung
We didn’t break the bed. Might have broken Hobi-hyung. He’s never had a dick like mine.
Yoongi:
I really don’t want to know.
VMINHOPE has changed Yoongi’s name to NOT FUN HYUNG
NOT FUN HYUNG has changed his name to V’s Gonna Die
Seokjin has changed V’s Gonna Die’s name to Yoongi
Seokjin:
Stop it, both of you.
Yoongi:
Yes, Mom.
VMINHOPE:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Does this make Namjoon our dad?
Do you call him Daddy?
Seokjin has left the conversation.
Yoongi:
Wow ... yeah ... nope. I’m out.
VMINHOPE:
DON’T LEAVE ME ALL ALONE!!!
Yoongi has left the conversation.
VMINHOPE:
>:|
I hate you all.
Except Jiminie because he has such a nice butt.
And Hoseokie because he has such a nice dick. Mmm, and really great thighs.
I wonder what Hoseokie will think about waking up to a dick in his ass.
Fuck, that’s something I should talk to him about first though.
Consent is sexy, kids. Don’t forget that.
And now I’m horny.
And all alone.
Namjoon:
DONT MASTURABATE ON MY COUCH!
VMINHOPE:
DADDY!
VMINHOPE has changed Namjoon’s name to DaddyRapper
DaddyRapper has left the conversation.
VMIN:
Ooh, maybe Daddy is coming to give me spankings.
I think I’m going to die now. Goodbye sexy world
--- ☼ --- ♪ --- ☼ ---
Yoongi wants to go back to sleep, but he can’t. His arm is on fire. The new weird symbol on his arm sits directly above Jungkook’s music note. It’s a pale outline, the color of his skin, not like Seokjin’s or Taehyung’s that were blocks of color. The color of his skin, breaking through the darkness that surrounds it. He isn’t sure how that’s possible.
Jungkook’s matches Yoongi’s. A black outline of two trapezoids right above the mint smudge on his music staff.
Jungkook is still asleep, curled up in a ball on Yoongi’s couch. He woke up long enough to drink some water, and then went right back to sleep.
Yoongi doesn’t want to disturb him, or leave him alone, so he sits on the floor, back pressed against the couch with his small keyboard on his lap, earbuds in his ears, and starts playing random notes. They stay in major keys, lower on the scale. Without really meaning to, they form a little bit of a song. He stands only long enough to get a pen to write them down.
He is so lost in the music that the touch to his neck has him jumping in surprise.
Right. He isn’t alone.
Even his music is reminding him of that lately.
Titling his head up, Yoongi smiles at Jungkook.
Jungkook smiles back and then yawns.
“How are you feeling?”
“A bit of a headache. Okay, though.” He looks down at his arm, at the new mark there. “I thought the pain was a dream. It wasn’t as bad as when yours showed up.”
“I didn’t even wake up,” Yoongi says.
“It’s weird ... to have a second one, right?”
“That’s not even the weirdest part. We all have it.”
“What?”
“All of us. Seokjin-hyung, Namjoon, Hobi, Taehyung and Jimin. All of us.”
“Wow. That’s ... weird, right?”
“Yeah. Pretty weird. But hey, fate?”
“You don’t believe in fate.”
“Yes, I do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck fate up if I get a chance.”
Jungkook winces and sags into the couch.
“Do you need anything?” Yoongi whispers.
“Not ... yet ... just ... relax a bit.”
Yoongi hums and turns back to his computer. He removes the earbuds so the music is soft in the living room.
Jungkook inhales sharply, and Yoongi glances back and up at him. He’s looking at his phone, worrying his lower lip. The only thing Yoongi can think of is the group text that Seokjin started, but considering their previous conversation about the new marks, that makes no sense. His mother maybe?
“What is it?” Yoongi whispers.
Jungkook shuts his eyes, but turns the phone so that Yoongi can see. It’s their text message history.
And a text that Yoongi thought he sent himself.
“Fuck, kid. Sorry. I ... I had lyrics in my head last night and I thought I sent them to myself.”
Jungkook’s breath speeds up a little and he stammers, “S-so you ... you don’t ... you don’t feel ... that way, about me?”
And Yoongi understands. He puts the keyboard to the side and crawls up on the couch, hovering over Jungkook with his knees at Jungkook’s hips. The kid looks like he’s going to cry, or ... something. Yoongi can’t tell. He’s obviously hungover and his emotions are amplified. Yoongi can almost see his heartbreak in his chest, the way his breath hitches and he bites his lips, rapidly blinking his eyes.
Still so cute.
Yoongi cups his cheek, thumb soft just under his eye. “I take inspiration for my lyrics and my music from my life, my friends, my situation, those around me. The last few days all I have been able to write and think is bright, high and major key, happy sappy shit. I didn't mean to send that to you, but if it wasn’t for you, I never would feel that way, this way, just ...”
Yoongi swipes his thumb at the corner of Jungkook’s pretty mouth, thin upper lip, plump lower lip, scratching his nail over the beauty mark. Jungkook’s eyes shut and he lifts a hand to grip Yoongi’s wrist. His other hand settles on Yoongi’s hip and he shifts, sinking a little deeper into the couch and settling under Yoongi like he belongs there.
And god, does Yoongi want him to belong there.
“Those lyrics are about you,” Yoongi says and pats his cheek to emphasize. “Hoseokie may have the literal sun shining from his ass, but you’re the only thing right now that’s making my life bright.”
Yoongi blushes, so does Jungkook, and Yoongi huffs and shouts at him, giving him a slightly firmer slap. “You punk. I’m supposed to be dark and mysterious and ... fuck, Jungkook-ah, you make me want to write love songs.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen and his smile turns the dark apartment into a galaxy of stars.
“Shit,” Yoongi says and leans over the couch to grab his laptop.
Jungkook’s hands tighten on his hips to steady him, and he plops the laptop right on Jungkook’s stomach (ignoring the way it obviously tightens up with fucking muscles, thank you very much) and starts fumbling through more lyrics to go with those that he’d accidentally sent to Jungkook.
Your smile turns my dark world into
A galaxy of stars in an empty universe
When Something warms the cold
Something melts the ice
Your laughter calms my shaking soul
A melody of marks on a ruined canvas
When Something heats the night
Something burns the skin
And Yoongi stops before whatever is supposed to be romantic turns into sexy. Not the time to be thinking that when he’s sitting on Jungkook’s crotch.
He tosses the laptop back to the floor and smiles. “Sorry.”
“You going to let me read them?”
“When it’s ready, I’m going to let you sing them.”
Jungkook smiles widely, and then it stops and he looks downs, at how Yoongi is still straddling his lap and his fingers tighten on Yoongi’s waist.
“I’m sorry, kid,” Yoongi whispers. “Sorry for being distant, for, as Jin-hyung says, fighting with myself. You’re going to be important in my life and I want you to be a part of my life, and ...”
Yoongi tilts his head back and messes with the hem of his long-sleeve T-shirt. Without thinking further, he tugs it up and over his head.
Jungkook gasps in surprise, body going tense.
Yoongi holds out his arm. “When I was thirteen, I felt a mark burn on my skin.” He presses a finger to a really thick scar almost in the bend of his elbow. “Right here. It was the very first time I had ever felt anything on my soul mark. My mother told me that it wasn’t right, that I should have felt one already, so I thought it was broken before then. I still thought it was. Because I couldn’t see anything. There was nothing in the dark smudge. And then I met my uncle for the first time the next day. He lived in Japan for business, and recently moved back to Korea.”
Jungkook’s eyes went wide.
Yoongi nods. “I was really excited. It was the first time I had felt a soul mark on my arm. I told him all about it, and he smiled and promised he’d be important in my life. But he used it against me. Manipulated it against me. My mom ... she never knew, no one ever knew, because he said it was a secret, it was our thing. When I ... when I finally accused him, he denied it and no one believed me.”
Yoongi’s chest tightens. It still hurts to talk about, to think about. “He told me I was broken, that there wasn’t anything on my soul mark, it was just a black smudge. There wasn’t any proof. I felt it there and I knew it, but he said it wasn’t true. No one believed me, and thought I was doing it to get attention because my soul mark was broken.”
Jungkook whines a little in his throat, and Yoongi smiles down at him. “He fucked me up. And after that, my family ... no one in my family supported me. My father started beating me for the stain I caused on the family name. My mother ignored me. My hyung tried to be supportive, but too supportive and he received the same treatment. The only thing that dulled the pain was making more of it, so I dug out the spot where that soul mark was. I started slicing through it when I was fourteen. And in other places.” He trails his fingers along the scars on his ribs and stomach.
Jungkook is trying not to cry, his breath a little faster, his eyes watery.
Yoongi sighs and lays down on top of his chest, tucked under his chin. Jungkook hugs him tightly, running shaking hands up and down his bare back.
“Rap let me express myself and all the anger inside me. I stopped playing the piano, dropped out of school and left home at fifteen. I moved here with nothing but a backpack full of shit. It didn’t take me long to figure out how to make money or how to find drugs. Men will pay a lot for pretty boys on the street.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook gasps.
Yoongi tilts his head up and smiles. “I had absolutely nothing. Nothing but drugs and sex and music. And the pain. The drugs dulled it, but I wanted to feel it. It proved that I wasn’t broken, that I could hurt. And it proved that soul marks were wrong. And then along came Seokjin. I can’t even remember the first time we met, the first time he took me home and let me sleep or the first time he fed me. It’s all buried somewhere in drugs and pain. I have no idea where his mark is on my tattoo. He refuses to touch my tattoo to find it. He says that fate is not why he helped me, even though on his tattoo there is a mark for me. He helped me because I needed him to. He cleaned me up, supported me, helped me finish high school, let me live with him, got me a job. I ... I was a few days, maybe weeks away from utterly destroying myself when he came into my life.”
Jungkook is crying now, carding his hands through Yoongi’s hair.
“I like you a lot, kid. I don’t think I’m good enough for you and you don’t deserve to be with someone so broken, but fuck the fates, they want you to be important in my life, and they want me to be important in yours. I have no problem ignoring it, no problem at all keeping myself away from you so I don’t hurt you, and so you’re not hurt.” Yoongi wipes at Jungkook’s tears. “I know that very first soul mark signified my uncle. He was really important in my life, but not in a good way. I don’t want to be that for you.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “You won’t,” he gasps, his voice low and raspy. “You won’t be.”
Yoongi lifts his head again and meets his eyes. “It’s not really the time but, fuck, I want to kiss you.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen and he nods frantically. “Okay ...”
Yoongi laughs and sits back up. He cups Jungkook’s face in his hands and leans down to press their lips together. Short, just a touch and then he pulls aways with a smile and traces his cheek with his thumb.
“I really, really like you,” Yoongi whispers, leaning down for another kiss..
“I like you too, hyung.” And another kiss.
Yoongi smiles against his mouth and keeps kissing him. It’s obvious that Jungkook doesn't have a lot of experience with kissing, so Yoongi keeps the touch of lips slow, the lick of his tongue soft. Jungkook almost writhes under him, his breath heavy through his nose. The grip on his waist tightens, fingers flexing with each one of Jungkook’s gasps. It isn’t long before something hard is poking Yoongi on his thigh.
Right. Seventeen.
Yoongi pulls always slowly, not wanting to release his lips, but not wanting to do anything more. He smiles at the way Jungkook shuts his eyes, tries to reign in his breathing. Yoongi trails his fingers down his taut neck and then falls against his chest, curled up under his chin again. Jungkook’s hands shake as they settle on Yoongi’s back. His fingers catch the only scar there, just below his shoulder blade, a cigarette burn from his uncle. It’s such a contrasting touch to the original press of pain.
“What should we do today?” he asks.
“I need to go home,” Jungkook whispers.
“Yeah. But you’re already in trouble, might as well milk it.”
“I’m going to be grounded forever.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Can I ... can I take a picture?” he asks, dragging a finger down Yoongi’s arm. “Just the part where our soul marks match, so I can send it to her?”
“Sure, kid.”
“And I feel gross. Can I shower?”
“Yes. I’ll make us something to eat while you do.”
But neither moves, neither wanting to, and Yoongi smiles against his T-shirt. Jungkook’s touches lose their trepidation and his palms press a little harder on his back, fingertips light on his side and ribs. God, it feels nice. Yoongi bites his lip hard to keep from moaning.
Eventually, Yoongi rises, feeling the pull of the music. They both get up and Jungkook goes to the bathroom and Yoongi sits on the couch, the melody swimming in his head. He stops long enough to grab some of Hoseok’s clothes for Jungkook to change into, and then his stomach grumbles, and he remembers that he was supposed to cook.
“Let’s go out instead,” Yoongi says when Jungkook emerges. “It’s almost noon. Time for a drunkard’s breakfast.”
Jungkook laughs and agrees.
(A/N: Tattoo images were found just by google. If they're yours and you want me to remove them, just let me know.)
--- ☼ --- ♪ --- ☼ ---
Part 6: Dancing Around
Part 4: Cuddles
Part 3: Selcas and Secrets
Part 2: Music and a Heart
Part 1: Mint Green Smudge
.