Work Text:
Prompt:
The thing about soulmarks was that it was fucking embarrassing. The moment you fall in love and touch your soulmate, beautiful flowers will bloom at the point of contact, and the size and color hasn’t really been explained. It’s beautiful if the touch was planned but—nobody really knows who their soulmate is, right? (Jimin has seen people with flowers on their cheeks or forehead or the back of their hands).
Nobody really knows who their soulmate is for sure—especially Jimin and Yoongi. In their little circle of friends, they were the only ones left with no flowers. It kind of bummed Jimin out, really—he was a hopeless romantic, with a healthy supply of cheap teen romance novels stacked away in his shelf. He wanted to hold someone’s hand like Taehyung did with Jungkook. He wanted to kiss someone sweetly and innocently like Namjoon did to Seokjin, and he wanted to get excited over someone like Hoseok did with Sungwoon.
“But…Jimin, you already do those things with Yoongi,” Seokjin supplied curiously, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as they lounged around in Namjoon’s penthouse (rich bastard, Jimin thought dryly).
“Yeah, man, you always hold hands with him and cuddle with him. You like being the little spoon, Yoongi-hyung told us,” Jungkook added, and Jimin could feel his ears burning up.
“Do you kiss, too?” Hoseok asked, leaning forward a bit to squint at Jimin, “you do, don’t you?”
“What—I do not kiss Yoongi-hyung! I would never, oh my God!” Jimin gasped in embarrassment, eyes flitting to Yoongi who was sitting on the floor next to Hoseok. The older boy just shrugged his shoulders at him, totally not helpful. Jimin scowled (he can’t believe he has the slightest crush on a fucking rock). “I mean—look at him. He’s an Overwatch slob—I refuse to have a soulmate like that. You guys are so lucky to literally find your soulmates on campus.”
“A lot of drama happened, but I’ve got to agree with you,” Taehyung hummed, nodding to himself as he propped his legs up on Jungkook’s lap.
He suddenly shot up, back straight and almost kicking Yoongi in the head. Yoongi turned around to glare at him, but Taehyung ignored him. “Chim, are you up for a dare?”
Jimin eyed him warily, scrunching up his nose in suspicion. “No. Fuck you, no. I’m not going to go streaking again. That was a one-time thing.”
“You went streaking?” Yoongi suddenly asked, amusement rolling in his eyes, and Jimin grabbed a handful of popcorn from his bowl before chucking it at Yoongi’s face.
“No—okay, listen, you bitch. I just—I just want you to try something. It’s not going to change anything! It’s not even going to cost or hurt anything—well, maybe a little dignity—but what’s dignity at this point, right?” Taehyung continued, bouncing in his seat and clearly very, Very Excited.
Jimin knew he was going to experience hell for this, but he nodded his head nonetheless. “Alright, loser…what’s the dare?”
“Sit over here,” Taehyung started, grabbing Jimin’s wrist and yanking him forcefully so that he toppled onto the spot next to Yoongi, his face meeting with the older boy’s shoulder and eliciting hushed curses from them, “look Yoongi-hyung in the eye, and tell him you love him.”
Jimin choked on his spit, and Yoongi whirled around to glare angrily at Taehyung. What Jimin missed, however, as he thumped his chest to try and breathe again, was Namjoon and Seokjin’s knowing smirks directed at Yoongi.
“What the fuck, Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi frowned at him, a scandalized look on his face.
“It’s just a dare! I mean—our flowers appeared after one of us said I love you to the other. You know, just,” Taehyung waved his hand around, looking for words, “we found our soulmates in our group of friends. What are the chances that your soulmate is each other, right? There’s nothing to lose.”
Jimin finally managed to breathe again, a hand on Yoongi’s thigh as he glared up at Taehyung. “This is so stupid, Kim Taehyung.”
“Just try, geez, with how you’re reacting I’m going to start thinking that you actually have feelings for Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung deadpanned, and Jimin rolled his eyes, but he slowly shifted to face Yoongi anyway.
Yoongi was—well, he was blushing. What the fuck. But then, Jimin also felt the heat in his own face. It’s understandable—who said I love you to their friends in this age and day? But whatever, it’s not like flowers we’re going to appear, anyway. This was just Jimin and Yoongi humoring Taehyung.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin started, but then Seokjin threw a pillow at his face, “what?!”
“Let Yoongi do the talking,” Seokjin suggested, a grin on his face, and Jimin should’ve been worried, but he shrugged. Less awkward for him.
“Okay.”
Yoongi stiffened in front of him, but the older male swallowed visibly after a beat. He reached out, his hand falling lamely on Jimin’s hip, their knees touching like they were doing some kind of face-to-face meditation.
“J-Jimin-ah—” did he just fucking stutter, Jimin wondered incredulously, “…I…I love you.”
Jimin blinked, the words feeling strangely…warm. Something warm settled in his chest, and for some weird reason, he didn’t feel embarrassed. He felt relieved, even. Content. A gasp from Hoseok pulled him out of his reverie, his eyes still locked on Yoongi’s face. He was looking down at Jimin’s hip.
“What?” Jimin asked, curious and suddenly feeling nervous because everyone was fucking panicking, what the fuck.
Amidst all the hoots and laughter and disbelieving screams, Jimin heard Yoongi’s voice loud and clear. The older tugged on the hem of Jimin’s shirt, and Jimin’s eyes followed the movement.
Through the thin, flimsy white fabric of his night shirt, snaking up from underneath the waistband of his sweatpants, loud and hot and bright in its color, was a bough of pink and red cherry blossoms. Jimin’s heart beat wildly in his chest, and his fingers soon scrabbled to lift his shirt. There, on his skin, was a very new, very beautiful, tattoo of cherry fucking blossoms.
Oh. My. God.
Jimin snapped his head up at Yoongi, who was watching him intently. He suddenly remembered vaguely where his hand had been when Yoongi had said I love you. His eyes trailed down onto Yoongi’s hands, Jimin remembering resting his fingertips on his knuckles, and—holy shit, there it is—a small but delicate tattoo of the same cherry blossoms on the side of his body, snaking all over Yoongi’s wrist and fingers. It was beautiful, really.
“I—” Jimin started, words lost in his throat.
He felt Yoongi reach for his hand, and Jimin almost jolted, almost jumped forward to tackle Yoongi in a chokehold like they always do—but Yoongi’s touch was soft. Different.
He looked at Yoongi, and when he saw the smile on Yoongi’s lips, all the denials in his head suddenly melted away.
“So…you really wouldn’t kiss me ever?” Yoongi whispered quietly, cheeks a light pink, but the faintest trace of a smirk curled his lips upward.
Jimin inhaled softly, before letting himself relax, fingers tentatively curling around Yoongi’s warm hand. He leaned forward a little, aware that their friends had suddenly left the room. He shrugged his shoulders, a cheeky smile on his face. “Why don’t you find out, hyung?”
Yoongi smiled, before leaning forward, determined to find out the answer.
(Yoongi wasn’t disappointed.)