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the endless winter

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You always thought you were broken—a failed outcome of a nearly flawless structure that has bounded and tied two people together since the very creation of human beings. You had heard of those special cases, of people who just saw gray their entire lives no matter how many oceans they covered and no matter how far they traveled, no matter if they searched the deepest corners or sought out the tallest mountains. You’ve heard of people in which distance wasn’t the problem—it was just them . Their existence had been doomed from the moment they were born, to live their life in monotone quality. Quite literally too, in fact. Knowing that there would be no one waiting for them on the other side as they slowly ventured through, never knowing a sunset or a sunrise or the grass—their life like an old film, classic and hazy and left behind.

For the first seventeen years of your life, the thought of just not having a soulmate was something that you didn’t necessarily think too deeply about. Some of your friends were of equal level to you, basking in the gray plaguing your line of sight. Albeit, there were a small handful who caught glimpses of red and yellow and blue, all of which were tinged in gray, during the duration of high school. And then there were an even smaller handful who were immediately gifted with the sight of the rainbow right out of the gate—their soulmates are the ones they end up going to prom with or are in the running for best couple in the yearbook, or other varying degrees of gross shit like that.

At a young age, the idea and concept of a soulmate, the concept of forever , was far too grand and far too wide to understand or grasp entirely. It also just seemed much too gross for you to want to understand. The thought that there was someone out there made just for you? Preposterous.

For the first seventeen years of your life, you didn’t really care . And you knew there were many others like you who shared that same belief system. No one wanted to have to settle down too early.

But none of you understood the true gravity of what it would be like to finally find your soulmate and the sensation of experiencing something you had been deprived of your entire life—henceforth you continued not caring, not knowing what you were missing out on in spite of everyone gushing endlessly about it.

Finding one’s soulmate has always meant to be a personal experience, something that could never be replicated or repeated—for a soulmate is supposed to provide as a ‘one and only’ occurrence; something that people could talk about yet not understand unless one had also uncovered the discovery of what would follow upon meeting a soulmate.  

For the first seventeen years of your life, the art of ignoring those type of conversations shared between parents and girls who thought they were better than anyone else gradually started to become second nature to you. Yes, you could grasp that meeting your soulmate was going to mark a momentous occasion in your life, but was it really that important? You were going to meet him eventually, so what was the point of rushing through everything?

You were going to meet your soulmate eventually.


Even when you didn’t care, you were confident in your abilities—in fate’s ability—to present you with the person that was the key to your rainbow (quite literally too, in fact). You trusted that much like your cousins or relatives, your time would come—and merely attempting to rush everything would take away the excitement of “finding him at the right time”, as your aunt would so graciously point out to you.

In the beginning, you were hopeful. You graduate high school with the utmost confidence that you were finally going to get your life together in more ways than one. Everything changes following that afternoon, with the brightly colored tassels (you assumed they were bright anyways) and the even brighter smiles of all your friends. It’s not just the independence that quickly finds you as you move out and away from your family and your childhood; but also a new maturity that seems to hit you upon the head. It seemed as if all you could do was think about your future, in whatever broken remnants that would take.

College is a bigger playing field, as you very quickly realize throughout the course of your freshman year. New people and new peers coming in from everywhere—internationally and from different states, different cities and even different hometowns. Everyone comes together, and you watch as seventeen turns to eighteen and eighteen turns to nineteen, and you watch fate twist and turn the paths of many of your friends’ lives in ways you never even thought possible.

College—the first two years of it, at least—is where many more people find their soulmates. Your friends, more specifically, find their destiny and their forever in the hidden aisles of the library, or as their partners for a biology project, or even (god forbid) through mutual friends. And they all have the same tales of “the discovery”—how colors were overwhelmingly powerful across their line of sight, burning brightly not just in their eyes but underneath their skin as they knew without a shadow of a doubt that this individual they were meeting was the person they were fated to be with and fated to spend the rest of their lives together. Those were all the things they claimed to know so firmly, believe in so strongly, even before they touched hands or kissed lips.

And nowadays, they do not shut up about it. They don’t shut up about whatever silly little romantic thing their soulmate had done for them that day, or how their smile or laugh was the most beautiful thing they had seen or heard in their entire life. But it doesn’t end there. Not only are talks about the soulmates themselves frequent in 98% of daily conversations, it’s that other little bundle of explosions that flash behind eyes—it’s the talk of colors that really make you think that you might pull the hair out of your roots (with exasperation or jealousy, you don’t entirely know).

Colors and soulmates have just as much of a connection together as the sun and moon, or the sky and the sea, or even just basic concepts like ying and yang. Lots of people you knew coined it as a “hot and cold sensation” when eliciting a comparison—the presentation of rainbow hues equating to “hot” and the lack of rainbow hues equating to “cold”. Henceforth, the closer you were physically to your soulmate, the brighter and more defined colors were around you. When you actually discovered and touched your soulmate for the first time, it was like unlocking the “on” switch of colors in an individual’s mind. But until that moment, you either saw the world in brightly defined colors that felt equally as hot to the skin, or you didn’t. The further away you traveled away from your soulmate, the more everything would take on a grayish tint until it was nothing but just that. Gray.

The best description your idiot of lovestruck friends could think of when talking about the initial fadeaway was like turning down the saturation quality of a photo.

You didn’t even know what a full saturated image was supposed to look like. Or what that even meant in the first place.

Like you said. Lovestruck idiots that you somehow put up with throughout the first two years of college. Turning a blind eye, forgetting what it use to feel like to not know what a real shade of red looked like or what exactly it meant when someone said something was blue.

You can’t blame them for forgetting about your disadvantage on more than one occasion.

Even though you’ve voiced it many, many times, they just never seemed to know when to shut up and let it go or take into consideration that you weren’t in their shoes yet. To be fair, however, it’s gloomy to think about your position—never showing any signs to display that perhaps you were closer to your soulmate than you thought.

In spite of your many requests, they can’t seem to stop talking about how pretty a sunset is, or how green the grass across the lawn in front of their dorms are, or how their soulmate’s eyes positively sparkle when the golden rays of morning light pierce through the bedroom window.

However, you’ve long since learned to ignore these kinds of conversations now, given that it’s officially your third year of university and the gray world around you did not seem to be coloring up anytime soon.

Finding him at the right time ” your ass.

You’ve never considered yourself an impatient person by any means, shape, or form. In fact, you were often chided for being too patient about things—too calm regarding how certain moments in your life could play out.

But the fate of your stupid history paper seems like such a dull thing in comparison to finding your soulmate.

You’re twenty years old during your third year of university, when you start to doubt yourself and the system from which you were raised under. If you were brought up with stories of the beauty of soulmates and the beauty of being able to fall in love, what had been the point of all that if the very code of your genetics refused to present you with that happiness?

It’s hard to distract yourself from the inevitable longing for the other half of yourself that may just not exist to begin with. At twenty years old, you don’t care about the vastness of the world, you don’t care about the whole ‘there’s plenty of fish in the sea—you’ll find yours one day’ bullshit everyone tells you upon the realization that their insufferable rants about yellow mean absolutely nothing to your virgin ears.

People don’t ask if you’re broken, if you’re one of “those people”, but you see the question in their eyes and you just wish that someone could be forward with you for once.

It’s probably one of the reasons you’ve come to despise people, rarely indulging in anyone about your problems or your worries with the exception of a few close friends you’ve known since you were young. Besides friends, you’ve learned to take pleasure in the small things in life—like discovering you have a knack for writing (after all, it gives you the limitless freedom of creativity without those useless things called paint or film) or listening to music (you didn’t need to see ‘that shade of blue’ to hear the voice of another person), but more specifically—!

“BTS is doing an international tour you guys!” Karly exclaims by way of greeting. And you don’t know if it’s the mention of a recent music find you’ve been obsessed with as of late or the fact that it’s the first time in years that Karly is starting a conversation with something other than “you’ll never guess what Brian did today” or “I ordered a grape smoothie—oh my god it was such a pretty shade of purple I nearly died ”, but you find yourself pulling the headphones out of your ear.

“Seriously?” Irene exclaims, wide grin taking over her features as she claps her hands together. “It’s their first one ever—oh, we have to go!”

“Yes! Tickets go on sale in a week or so—Y/N, won’t you join us?”

You blink. “Ah, well—!”

“C’mon Y/N!” Irene pleads, gripping your arm in her own hands. “We haven’t been to a concert in forever and they might not ever come back! And haven’t you been listening to them more and more recently? It’ll be fun, I promise—we won’t bring up colors or anything.”

You give Irene a side glare. “I was going to say yes before you promised not to talk about colors. I’m not crippled , you know, I don’t want to deprive you guys of that experience. It’s fine, okay?”

Irene and Karly give one another a slightly concerned glance, before Karly suddenly smiles and flashes you a thumbs up.

The weeks goes by in an uneventful haze, the main driving force for most of your day-to-day motivations being that with each seconds that ticks by brings you one second closer to the concert tickets dropping as it looks as if your two best friends might be throwing a fit with how full of excitement and anticipation they are about the date that suddenly seems to arrive with no warning whatsoever.

Retrieving the concert tickets is a feat that goes by relatively smoothly, although for a moment it appears as if Irene is going to have a heart attack as she watches the hourglass turn to represent the loading of the tickets, but she purchases the first seats that appear up. Karly looks like she might burst into tears when she discovers that the seats are just above ground floor.

You are also excited to be attending such an event, hoping that it would provide as the perfect means of a distraction from the current problems sitting themselves right in your face. You hope more than anything that you would find it in yourself to enjoy the concert in spite of the knowledge that rests inside you that you would only be able to witness such an event in one scale.


To say that Park Jimin has a very monotone life would be a complete understatement. Nothing about Jimin’s life is meant to be insignificant, even if the way he saw the world in one shade would have him begging to differ.

He’s always known to display forth a smile, no matter what kind of storms would be resting underneath brown eyes, no matter what kind of troubles he would always try to keep at bay. His band members usually get exasperated at how difficult it could be to scope out Jimin’s true feelings, especially when they know something is bothering him.

And even though lately, it’s always been the exact same problem and the exact same bullshit, the boys would always lend an ear because they would always care. Jimin knows that the boys would always care, because the seven of them were like some very strange, very dysfunctional, yet a very loving and kind sort of family.

After all, they were the ones who comforted him when he was sixteen and revealed for the very first time that, unlike the rest of the boys who could at least see shades of low quality color accompanied with varying gray tints, there was nothing but gray in his eyes.

They were the ones who comforted him when he was seventeen and cried on Christmas morning because he couldn’t see the multicolored lights Seokjin had put up the night before.

They were the ones who comforted him through many, many long nights in which he questioned if he would ever be able to experience the sight of colors, if his existence was meaningless because he didn’t have anyone to share it with.

Just all the casual, light-hearted goodness that comes with questioning one’s existence.

It never surprises the boys when Jimin is never content with just a single answer after a single night, and that’s okay. He might not understand colors, but they’ve all been at a point in their lives where they were once unable to see anything but gray or be unable to understand what it meant for something to be teal or rosegold. So he can’t understand, but they do and that’s perhaps the most reassuring sensation of them all.

Park Jimin is twenty-one years old when BTS decides to undergo their very first international tour across the world, expanding out beyond their little corner of the globe in celebration of their success of a recently released album. The news of the sold-out venues across the country brings much excitement to the boys as the striking realization of just how far they’ve all come hits them. It’s hard to believe that just five years ago, they were a tiny group from a tiny studio often struggling to make ends meet. Now, they’re here . Performing bigger venues with an even bigger audience. The stakes have increased, but it’s something that no one would want to trade for the world.

Jimin smiles, wishing the success of these new leg of tours, but still unable to keep the previous bitterness from arising to new heights in the pit of his stomach. Because if seeing the world and seeing the crowd and the lights in grayscale from locations and cities he’s already been in was such a hinderance, knowing that he won’t get to experience the true beauty that comes with visiting a new country sets the bitter tang in his mouth.

Still, he wouldn’t be Jimin if he didn’t bury his problems in so deeply they never have to see sunlight. He wouldn’t be Jimin if he didn’t smile or continue with his casual joking disposition while packing or while boarding the plane or promising Namjoon that he would get some sleep throughout the thirteen hours of flying.

He ends up falling asleep very early into the flight with at least ten hours left on the clock before his mind and his exhaustion gets the best of him. It’s strange to think that the most comforting and peaceful moments in Jimin’s life are the ones when he’s thousands of miles in the air—where there’s no one breathing down his neck or no schedules making him feel as if it all might consume him where he stands.

The quietness of the air around him, the light rocking of the plane, and the soft murmurs of the boys all around him are all small contributions that add to Jimin’s increasing drift away from the physical world before he finds himself closing his eyes and trailing off to skim around the planet.


When Jimin awakens, however, as the plane is nearing the airport of their first city stop, he doesn’t believe that he’s truly conscious at first—because the first thing his eyes land on is the TV attached to the seat in front of him. And it’s not gray .

Jimin sits up a little straighter in his seat, his eyes training immediately upon the image of the flight on the screen, the airplane approaching the city.

It’s got a grayish tint , sure, but some of that hue appears to have faded away in favor of another color, the color of the ocean, a rich texture that’s deep and vast. Navy blue, as Namjoon had once explained to Taehyung a few months ago. All the objects around Jimin still take on that hazy quality, colors toned down to gray, exactly the way the rest of the boys have described to him, but leaving little doubt that there is definitely some color in his perception.

Furrowing his eyebrows together, Jimin practically launches himself to the window, tugging open the flap to immediately reveal the advancing sunrise and he sharply inhales a breath without care or concern as to who could possibly be witnessing his little crazed feast—because is this really a sight he’s missed for twenty-one years of his life?

Before him lays the landscape of their next stop, urban homes and skylines stretching out for miles across his line of sight; but that’s not what gets him to stare unblinkingly at the view in front of him, eyes so wide as if to convey the fear that if he blinked, he would truly wake up and discover that this moment has been reduced to nothing but a mere figment of his imagination. What really gets Park Jimin to stare out the window of the airplane is the sunshine that reeks out above and across and through every crevice of the city space. Even still bathed in gray, the color is so overpowering and vibrant and fluid and makes the whole metropolitan area look positively alive with character and depth.

“Is this what yellow looks like?” Jimin whispers to himself in awe, remembering a conversation he had overheard between Yoongi and Hoseok about what colors the sun emitted during an early morning position in the sky. It takes a moment for the realization to hit him, that he’s not dreaming and the warmth flowing through his body is not a delusional desperation to see colors—the specks of gray that linger in all of them are enough to help prove his case.

“Jiminnie, what are you looking at?” Taehyung exclaims, cramming into the small space between Jimin and the seats so he could try and catch a glimpse of what the other boy is looking at. “Wow, the city looks so beautiful—hey, you look really excited.”

Jimin turns his head slightly to see Taehyung sending up a boxy grin towards him. For a moment, Jimin opens his mouth to speak, to relay the discovery to his friend—perhaps it would get everyone to stop looking at him with those hidden layers of sympathy underneath their eyes—but the words catch themselves in the back of his throat. Reporting the news of this to the boys would surely get them overjoyed with anticipation—but they were only in the city for five days. Would he be allowed a moment of selfishness to seek out the key to his rainbow? And would the boys display forth an overaggressive sort of supportiveness in attempts to keep the atmosphere light whenever conversations would stray along?

They were all already so insistent upon the idea even when Jimin couldn’t see color, but now that he could…

Jimin closes his mouth and turns his attention back out the window, attempting to set his mouth in a straight line. “I am excited, Tae, this tour is going to be great!”

If Taehyung senses a bit of hesitation in the tone of the other boy, he doesn’t speak of it, even as the boys step off the plane and Jimin has to keep his wandering eyes to a bare minimum. The more he takes in the pale complexion of the sights around him, from the cherry-colored carpet to the light brush of the sky above him, the more the realization starts to weigh in that if the sights around him were warming up, it could only mean that his soulmate truly existed and was nearby. Not close enough for the colors to burn against his eyes and against his skin, but close enough to know that the concept of having another half, something that he once believed was not in the cards for him, is no longer a concept but a tangible belief.

There is someone waiting for him, and the thought is enough to make the smallest of smiles etch itself along Jimin’s face, something that needs to be coaxed down with a bite of teeth to lower lip. He wonders what his soulmate is up to, if she’s been as alone as he has, and if she’s missed and longed for a complete stranger as he has; but, he hopes most of all that she hasn’t given up hope.


People always told you that strange things had a tendency to happen when you least expected it. Of course, you believed that saying in very small doses, acknowledging the fact that some minor occurrences were completely out of your control and could either make your day take a turn for better or worse. The fact that some individuals believed that major events could twist and turn your life right under your nose had always been something you thought to be impossible, because shouldn’t there be warning signs? If something major had the power to change the path of your existence, how could it happen just like that?

Initially, you believed the answer to be obvious. Of course nothing major could happen overnight.

That’s what you had gone to bed believing, curling against the mattress and burying your nose underneath the covers. The only time you’ve ever felt normal, and the only time you’ve felt like you could understand the sights your friends witnessed, was always at night—because everyone saw darkness in the same shade, right?

You’re awakened the following morning to the abrupt singing of your ringtone, immediately pulling you out of your dreams as your eyes slowly flicker open to take in the light shining through your room. At first, you don’t process the lighter shade to the rays as you choose instead to turn in your bed to look upon the digital face of your alarm clock. You take in the 7:30AM numbers that read back to you in a shade that is definitely not just gray but something more—!

“Look, the numbers on your digital clock are green,” Irene remarks casually as she plops herself down on your bed and grabs one of your plush stuffed animals to rest on her lap.

You roll your eyes, looking over your shoulder only to see that very familiar shade of gray staring right back at you. “That information does absolutely nothing for me.”

“Oh c’mon Y/N,” Irene chimes, leaning forward a little to address you more seriously. “You will eventually—don’t give me that look, I’m serious. Anyways, green is beautiful, you’ll know it immediately when you see it! It’s the color of the grass and the leaves and lush plant life all around us. Green is the earth, Y/N.”

You shake your head, going back to your work. “If you say so.”

It’s green.

The color looks faded, grayish complexion as if the hue has been rubbed on multiple times in the past, but it’s such a striking contrast to what you were seeing exactly twenty-four hours ago that for a moment, you think you’re dreaming.

Your reflexive instinct is to bolt up in your bed, tearing your gaze away from the clock as if to chase away your morning delusions as you crane your neck away from the nightstand, giving you a complete visual access to the rest of your bedroom—which, by the way, is also bathed in the fading colors.

Like a photo with the saturation turned down.

Oh , okay. Those previous references from your friends suddenly make sense to you as you gaze fixes down on the blankets. Nothing is just one shade anymore; the florals amongst your sheets all take on different characteristics as you run your fingers over the material in desperate attempts to make sure this isn’t all just a dream.

Your heart is thrumming out of your chest, the sound positively ringing in your ears that you almost don’t hear the final calls of your phone. It takes a lot of effort to rip yourself away from your trance, given that your mind is already spinning like a top and it’s not even 8:00 in the morning. Swallowing thickly, you give your phone a wide-eyed glance and nearly divebomb for the table when you see the caller ID.

“Karly?” You answer breathlessly.

Your friend on the other side of the line clearly takes your anxious tone in a completely different direction, because she squeals upon hearing your voice too. “Oh you’ve heard the news too? Don’t the boys look so good—?”

“Wait, what?” You interrupt, shaking your head. “Sorry, Karly, I have a quick question to ask you first.”

“Sure, what it is?”

“Uh…” You look down at your blankets. “What is the color of my blankets?”

Karly goes silent on the other end, clearly taken aback by your question; as she should be, given that you’ve never once displayed interest towards the subject matter. It’s enough to get her mind off of what she had just been about to tell you. “What? Why do you need to know?”

You argue against telling her at the present moment. “J-Just for science. Humor me, okay?”

“O-Oh, alright then…” Karly thinks about this for a moment. “Your blankets are like this… sea green color and the flowers on it are brown and blue and beige—why do you need to know?”

You shrug, even though she can’t see the gesture. “Nevermind about that. So, uh, what news did you want to tell me?”

“Oh, right! BTS just landed in the city! The airport photos dropped and can I just say that they look amazing —!”

“BTS just came in?” You echo. “Like, overnight?”

“Yeah they landed earlier this morning. Can you believe they’re basically in the neighborhood? And we’re seeing them tomorrow, I seriously can’t believe it…”

A part of you wishes that Karly had simply gone to Irene to gush about the arrival of the boys in the city, but another part of you, the part of you that has a tendency to overthink and draw conclusions in areas that might not even make sense to begin with, feels like the breath has just been punched out of you.

Surely, it must be a coincidence that BTS has landed in the same morning you get a sight for colors for the first time in twenty years. People were coming into the city all the time, new people were traveling in every single day. The timing of it all is funny, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.

But when you hang up on Karly a few minutes later, you sink back into your bed, taking in the shadows of light that reflect along your white ceiling and you allow your lips to quirk up into the smallest of smiles. You hope that you would be able to meet your soulmate soon and if he thinks the colors (as faded as toned down as they are) look as beautiful to him as they do to you.


The deal with the whole gist of soulmates and what it’s like before the “discovery” is that one’s other half usually has a tendency to linger around for months, if not years before running into them at some restaurant or on the street corner or in the hallways of university. You were always told that fate worked in this manner so the individual could get more and more accustomed to the gradual intensity of colors—much like a slow burner, as to not present someone with an overload of data and information. In the beginning, you never thought too deeply about what it would feel like to witness everything at once, since you believed that your life would be much like your parents or your friends. You believed it would be like a slow cooker, the colors before your eyes gradually increasing in saturation before reaching their full potential.

You never thought the course of your life would turn out like this: sliding into the car with Karly and Irene to make your way to the venue only to realize that the closer the three of you are getting to the concert, the brighter the hues in your eyes seem to be exploding across and increasing in intensity much too rapidly, like sliding a light switch up way too quickly until it feels like the world around you is spinning with this brand new sensation.

Given that you’re sitting in the back, the way your eyes frantically move about the interior of the car and the blur of colors out the window is ignored as Karly and Irene belt out incoherent song lyrics to one another and gush about their excitement. You remain quiet, eyes darting out to take in the different colored cars around you sliding in and out of your line of sight, no longer basking in the view of being able to witness colors but simply drowning from it instead. It’s been a little more than twenty years since you witnessed any kind of sensation or sign to show that your soulmate was even something you could believe in, so to suddenly be bombarded with these bright colors is too much for you. Suddenly, everything looks too alive and too real, sights that once filled you with warmth absolutely overwhelm you now and it burns against your eyes and against your skin.

It’s something that only gets worse when the three of you actually reach the venue, the sights and the additional sounds doing nothing to help your now throbbing head. It’s hard enough to take in everything around you while things are still stationary , but the thought of the rapidly approaching concert is enough to leave you believing that you might vomit your entire lunch all over the ground. Karly and Irene, once again, seem to be too wrapped up in their little bubble of excitement to notice how sickly pale you’ve gotten.

When the doors open to accompany the attendees, bags are quickly checked and the three of you make your way towards the stage, where you all find your seats in a quickly and orderly fashion. Although you’re a little ways from the center, Karly claims that she might die when you realize that being just above the pit level provides you with a perfect view of the stage. Your involvement in the conversations shared between Karly and Irene is put to a bare minimum, since you’re too fixated on observing the colors around you—which is thankfully not too staggering with the dim lights. Some of Bangtan’s music videos are playing on the screens, and you count the members off in your head.

You’re not entirely sure how long you just sit there, basically staring off into space, before the lights dim and music starts positively blasting through the arena and the screaming basically become deafening. In the darkness, you momentarily forget about the colors and the soulmates and the pounding headache.

That is, until the colorful lights suddenly swirl all around you and the crowd, the stage lights blasting on as the boys appear to the crowd one by one—the overwhelming hues come back to you in full force and it knocks the wind of you with how much clearer and how much more defined the shades are. And if they weren’t already crushing against your windpipe before, it definitely feels as if you might drown now. But how could it be possible that the colors are more defined than before? Certainly nothing has changed within the past ten seconds of darkness, except the boys walking out on stage.

You recognize Namjoon bringing the microphone to his lips, “All the underdogs in the world…”

This marks the official start to the concert, the boys taking in at their respective parts as they belt the song across the venue, their bodies moving with such fluidity that it’s such a different sight to see everything live and real before your eyes. The movement of colors in your eyes press aches against your temple, gaze frantically moving about to take in everything at once.

Then, Park Jimin sings his line, the voice carrying through the crowds of people and dumping itself on you like a bucket of ice cold water. At once, you can feel the smile slipping right off your lips as something akin to electricity zaps itself up your spine. There is a sensation similar to your veins being set on fire because everything feels hot and the presentation of it all around you makes you feel as if you might explode. Your heart cannot take the onslaught of new senses, because it starts pounding rapidly in your chest. Although it’s something you’ve never been taught before, there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that these experiences go far beyond just fabrications—you could never imagine this intensity and this lightheadedness, this complete certainty about something that seems so irrational and so impossible and yet—!

“Y/N isn’t this great—oh god , are you okay? You look like you’re about to vomit or something!” Irene screams over the music, turning her attention to you for the first time in nearly ten hours. There is a cold hand to your forehead. “You’re feverish! Is everything okay?”

The words seem to escape you before you can process them or stop them. “I think… I think I just figured out who my soulmate is!”

Irene furrows her eyebrows together. “What?” She calls over the ending of ‘Not Today’.

You throw her an exasperated look, but she merely responds with leaning in towards you. You meet her halfway and cup your hand to amplify the sound against her ear. “My soulmate!” You exclaim. “Is here!”

Irene angles her head to throw you an incredulous look. “You’re seeing colors now?” She asks back to you, eyes still wide for a multitude of different reasons. She’s probably aware of the burning intensity behind your eyes now from her own personal experience, although she can’t entirely understand the suddenness of the whole thing. After all, Irene’s soulmate had been thrusted into her life much like other peers in your life—gradual so the individual could get accustomed to the colors with each passing day or week. After you nod, she exhales. “Y/N, your soulmate is here!” She hisses in your ear. “Oh god, he could be anywhere! And he could be anyone!”

“Not just anyone,” You retort back. “I know who it is.”


Like you said: there’s no way you would believe something so utterly crazy unless you weren’t two hundred percent sure that it was true. It’s like every nerve and fiber in your being is screaming at you; although you haven’t been confident about anything in your entire life, you would bet your existence on the next statement that leaves your lips. “My soulmate is Park Jimin!”


The following two hours of the concert are long, enjoyably so but also flashing through your eyes as the anticipation of your realization gradually starts to sink into your mind. Park Jimin is your soulmate. The words seem to flash behind your eyes, the action so completely out of your control that it leaves you with little choice but to believe it once more.

It’s hard to process such a concept, mainly because Park Jimin has always appeared to be of another world, standing above all else while you felt like a slightly insignificant bug on the ground—and you probably were in some aspect. Granted, maybe he’s always caught your attention above all the other members of the group when Karly had first introduced BTS to your playlist and to your life but you had simply written off those initial thoughts before they could truly have time to settle.

Perhaps you would have reduced yourself to some whole new level crazy or delusional or desperate—but the colors before you blend into mixtures you can’t even begin to name and you can’t imagine something you don’t know or understand, right?

There’s also the additional realization that your body and your mind and your soul seems so naturally in tune to Jimin and his stage presence. No matter how often you try to distribute your attention to the group as an entirety, a quiet flicker of his movement could drag you back to him. You’re more conscious of him than ever before, every note he sings or word he says makes you feel simultaneously hot and cold at the same time. In spite of these grapples of intensity that make you grab the hem of your coat, there’s also a calming awareness that is elicited through your bones whenever Jimin laughs or smiles.

It calls for a very confusing set of emotions, everything mixing together at once. Maybe it’s because this is your first time experiencing emotions of peacefulness or longingness or desperation or excitement—but maybe the surplus of all these conflicting sensations are of a positive thing. Maybe this is part of “the discovery” that everyone has talked about. Maybe it’s the finality that seals the deal in confirming the identity of a soulmate. Maybe it’s part of fate’s final say in the matter—to ensure that you were tailor made for your soulmate in every way: physically or mentally or emotionally.

Irene does not bring up the matter further following your confession. Although her eyes were wide and her eyebrows had been raised up to her hairline, she said that you would indulge deeper into the subject after the concert. The longer the concert goes on, the more you find yourself having a good time, singing along to the lyrics and screaming when the different members deliver forth a statement or a “thank you”. Albeit, the colors still leave behind a dizzying effect around you—two hours is not nearly enough time to “gradually become accustomed to it”, especially after having just experienced one shade of everything for twenty years, but it’s slightly more manageable when you close your eyes and detach yourself from the world, if only for a few seconds. And, god you can’t believe you’re actually going to admit this, but the sound of Jimin’s voice seems to reach a part of yourself you hadn’t previously been aware, somehow managing to produce forth a soothing quality that settles your heart.

You start to understand all those seemingly mindless conversations shared between your friends who had the luxury of finding their soulmates. While it is an extremely overwhelming experience (or maybe not, it has a tendency to vary from person to person depending on their previous exposure to the colors before that overwhelming “day of” encounter), witnessing the world with their proper hues makes everything you look so vibrant and real. You feel like you belong, even in a stadium of 8,000 people, most of whom do not even know your name.

But going beyond the colors, there are also soulmates. For something so common, having one feels peaceful and rare and otherworldly. You feel like you can understand Karly and Irene’s rambles about their significant other—those individuals are literally people who match them in every aspect of their life. They could soothe anxiety with a touch, or put the world back on its axis with a kiss or a smile.

Your friends have their other halves, their key to the rainbow, their sun and stars and moon—just like how yours is Park Jimin.

You can feel Irene  giving you a side glance during Jimin’s speeches or Jimin’s solo (which, by the way, had been the most overwhelming and partially suffocating part of the evening, yet the only part of the event that made you feel as if you were truly alive). There’s no way to see or hear or understand the thoughts of belief or disbelief that flash through your expressions, your body language, your eyes—but when you spare Irene a glance during Jimin’s parting speech, a vague kind of realization starts to dawn across her features.

The three of you trek out of the concert hall following the performance, surrounded by the loud chatter of those around you gushing about how amazing the performance as a whole had been. You and Irene remain quiet throughout the walk out, the post concert weight bringing back the confession you had relayed to your friend.

Karly, however, remains complete oblivious to the whole thing, talking as if the ton of tension hadn’t been dropped on the trio. It’s only when she starts talking about their performance of “Lost” does she finally realize that no one is meeting her halfway on her excitement. “You guys are really quiet,” She finally remarks, slowing down her pace in an area of the convention hall that isn’t as crowded or drowned out by people. “What’s going on? Are you upset about the concert being over already?”

Partially, given that the gravity of your discovery is finally starting to really take a toll on you. Even though the adrenaline has faded away and even though his physical form is no longer in your line of sight, the idea of him still flows in your body and it’s like your blood and every single stretch of your being is singing for him. The intensity of the now highly saturated colors still burn, and it still feels as if your skin has been set aflame.

“Karly,” Irene starts. “There’s something you should know.”

Karly knits her eyebrows, switching her gaze between you and Irene. “You guys are starting to freak me out, what is it?”

A look from Irene reminds you to take in a breath. “Karly, my soulmate is here.”

“What?” Karly remarks incredulously, throwing a look over her shoulder before beckoning the three of you towards the wall to move away from traffic and away from the possible eavesdroppers. “Are you serious?” She pauses for a moment. “Oh god Y/N, why didn’t you say anything when we got here? Witnessing colors, especially ones as intense as the shades you get, for the first time in twenty years, cannot be good for you!”

“It’s fine,” You brush, although your voice still takes on that breathless quality. The flushed complexion of your skin probably doesn’t help in trying to convince Karly otherwise.

Karly sighs, then she leans forward. “There must be something like 8,000 people here though! How will you be able to—!”

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” You say quietly. “My soulmate. It’s Park Jimin.”

Karly has a reaction similar to Irene—wide eyes, heightened eyebrows—but she looks doubtful. You aren’t surprised. “Are you sure Y/N?”

“It’s true,” Irene interrupts. “She was showing all the symptons—I was watching her whenever Jimin was on stage or talking or laughing. You remember when Amber got that glassy eyed, awed expression when she saw David for the first time? Y/N looked exactly like that when she saw Jimin. And he’s still within close proximity of us—you can see it in her eyes. And just in her face too, seriously, she looks like she’s going to burst or something.”

Karly seems to be weighed down by Irene’s explanation about your facial features. Although it’s something you far from understand, it appears to make sense to your friend. “Come to think of it,” Karly starts slowly. “You asked me about the color of your blankets the same morning BTS landed at the airport. Was that the first time you were seeing colors?”

You nod slowly, knowing that you were eventually going to get an ear-full from both of them about how you shouldn’t be keeping such important information from them.

“M-Maybe it’s just a coincidence,” Karly starts weakly.

Irene gives her a look. “Maybe—so there’s only one way to test that theory and know for certain.”

You throw Irene an incredulous look. “Test the theory? Irene, what are you saying—?”

“I’m saying that you’re going to meet Park Jimin tonight.”

Karly seems to pick up on the idea immediately, because a wicked grin overtakes her expression. “That’s the only way to be one hundred percent confident about the thought, isn’t it?”

Irene and Karly communicate to each other through extremely intense eye contact, something that you find yourself witnessing rather helplessly from the sidelines. Without a warning, Karly and Irene link their arms to yours and exit the venue. Neither of them acknowledge your questions, choosing instead to keep quiet until you’ve all done a 180 of the venue and are approaching a rapidly growing crowd of girls lingering around a back door. There are security guards all over, standing as a wall to keep the pushing and shoving at bay—the far end of the crowd revealing a black van that will provide as the boys transportation back to their hotel.

The amount of people here, desperate to catch one last glimpse of the boys before they’re due to board a plane in the morning, is nearly suffocating. It doesn’t help that Karly and Irene seem to have taken it upon themselves to help propel you towards the front of the group until you’re right there , part of the last batch of people on the edge next to the van. You study the empty pathway that leads from the back door to the car, the loud chatter that will surely increase as soon as those back doors slide open. You’ve always known Jimin and the rest of the boys were a big deal and extremely popular around the world, but to see that fame in a quantifiable form almost boggles your mind because how on earth could you be soulmates with someone who led this kind of life?

What would be the point of baring your heart and soul for someone who just couldn’t (or wouldn’t want to) stick around? Would Jimin even want you or want to be with you? Sure, you would receive the permanent sight of colors and you wouldn’t need to witness the grayscale of vision anymore—even though you’ve known gray longer than you’ve known colors, there no way you could possibly let go of something so beautiful and wonderful—but that means you would get to meet Jimin. And you might not want to let go of him.

You don’t get too much time to ponder the new questions that you hadn’t even bothered to consider a few hours ago, because the sound of the back door opening fills your ears. It’s something that is immediately followed by the high pitched of screaming girls as you crane your neck slightly over the outstretched arms and harsh push of shoulders against your own just to try and catch a glimpse of the boys.

Then you see them, so much closer than they were in the concert when they were up on stage and you were in the shadows—although it stills feels like that in a way because all seven of the boys bleed stardom. Maybe it’s the way they hold themselves, confident even in the face of the flashing cameras that act like a strobe light of bright colors, the effects overpowering to your still incredibly sensitive eyes. That previous headache you had worked so hard in dispelling comes back in full force, the flush returning back across your cheeks as your breaths turn labored and strained.

“Y/N, Y/N, he’s coming up!” Karly hisses, tiptoeing to catch a glimpse of the boys approaching the van—and you’re standing right next to it. “Y/N, say his name; he’ll hear you!”

This snaps you out of your resolve. Suddenly, you don’t care about the consequences or the aftermath or what might happen if you called Jimin’s name and he responded. You don’t care. Taking in a breath, you cup your hands over your mouth, opening your mouth to belt out—!


Jimin has had a lot of nauseating episodes in the past, but none of them come close to this particular sensation of highly saturated details and colors and imagery pressing themselves so tightly against his temples that massaging them only seems to spread the pain out further. The other boys don’t seem to indulge or worry too deeply over this manner, simply writing it off as jet lag or exhaustion and promising a few little extra hours of sleep in the morning. Although Jimin is practically dying to spell out the confession and the words that have been lodged in the back of his throat since the very beginning, the thought of getting his hopes up all the way for nothing halts the process.

But with the boys all about to board the van and leave the venue permanently, it worries Jimin because it’s not like they were planning to settle down in the city for a few weeks. They were all due to fly out again in a few days, meaning that Jimin has no clue as to when he would be back in the city or if you would ever return to the city as well.

It worries him because this might be his one and only chance to seek you out. He knows that you’re still nearby, if the burning sensation of colors is any benchmark to showcase the distance between the two of you. Or, a lack thereof. Even though he has no qualms about who you might be, your likes or your dislikes or what your childhood had consisted of, there’s a certain desperation he feels tugging at his heartstrings to see you and meet you and ask questions about what the past handful of decades your life had been like. The pair of you might lead two completely different lives, so would pursuing you really be wise for either of you?

What if you didn’t want to be with him? What if you wished to reject the notion of soulmates and the notion of him simply because he would never be around the way you might have wanted him to be? Just because Jimin believed the possibility of ever finding his soulmate had dwindled over the years didn’t mean he ever thought of what it would be like to finally meet his other half. But now that the moment has presented itself, he’s completely frozen on the spot.

“C’mon Jimin, let’s get going,” Hoseok says, approaching the boy and patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“It’s not like that…” Jimin counters weakly as he is pulled up to his feet. It appears as if Hoseok had heard him, but before he can get a question out members of management arrive to help get the boys to the van across the way in the quickest and most orderly fashion. None of this is new to Jimin, but it suddenly feels as if he’s trekking through honey as his emotions grapple with one another as he tries to figure out what his next move should be.

He doesn’t get to figure it out, however, because everyone is being led towards the back door of the venue to depart. It feels like a strange detachment from his body, his mind reeling and throbbing painfully against his skull—the curiosity of his next moves along with the combination of colors that seem to be merely increasing in intensity equating to this. He’s lingering off to the edge, but still a part of the group, even as the back door is pushed open and the screams of greeting fill his ears.

Jimin feels completely disorientated, the flashing lights feel like flashes of colors that bite against his skin. He bites down on his tongue, determined not to let the overwhelming nature of the evening get to him as he keeps his head down and tries to focus on sheer willpower to stop him from upending his meal. Even though the night as fast approached, the hues seem more prominent than ever and he thinks that maybe he might collapse from the ground and later get chided by the boys for not breaking down the sheer severity of his condition—!


He freezes, head snapping up because that voice … He knows that he’s never heard it before in his life, but it immediately provokes a feeling of warmth, peacefulness, desperation, longing, and unconditional devotion to surge over him like water in the matter of just a few seconds.

In spite of the screaming of the crowds, the gentle prodding of management, and the boys all waiting for him to join them in the van, Jimin practically stumbles over his two feet to turn around as quickly as he possibly can. And even though he does this as fast as he can manage, it doesn’t feel swift enough or soon enough and holy shit .

It’s you.

You’re standing a few feet away from the van and a few feet away from him, but it suddenly doesn’t feel close enough. It feels like the air has just been punched out of Jimin with how breathless he’s become, eyes fixated on you and only you. The highly saturated colors that has plagued his vision since arriving into the city seem to fade away at the sight of you, everything else bleeding out until the only thing he can see or think or feel is you.

And he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

He doesn’t know how long the pair of you stand there, staring at each other and drowning out the rest of the world as crazed and wild and reckless as it may be right now. He doesn’t care how much time passes, because his eyes cannot seem to get enough of you. He doesn’t know anything about you, but looking at you and taking in your form feels like coming home, like returning to a town he’s been to before in his childhood. It’s strange and different but good, oh so good and wonderful and so much better than he ever thought to be possible. He wants to take in every aspect of your face, every crevice and detail that dusts itself along your skin—maybe reach out for you and ask for a name to give his in return because you may know him but you don’t know him and he really oh so desperately wants you to—!

The reality starts to sink in when you break eye contact for the flicker of a second, already getting shouldered and shoved away from the edge of the crowd by other people who see the moment as something to barge in on, to interrupt and take away, and that’s when Jimin snaps out of his own resolve. Feeling a surge of protectiveness wash over him, he takes a step forward to reach out to you, to grab your wrist, but management has a hand on his shoulder to keep him out of the crowd.

“Wait,” Jimin calls out, for who he doesn’t entirely know yet, but he can feel himself getting pulled into the van, further and further away from you, his vision blurring with colors at the separation. The last thing he sees in your lips parting, eyes widening to form words, to say something or anything and he would tattoo it on his skin—but you never get the chance to.

The door closes, immediately cutting off the connection between you and him before the screams increase and Jimin is knocked back into reality.

“What do you think you’re doing Jimin?” Namjoon inquires as the car starts moving. “You could have gotten hurt!”

“What were you doing, staring at the fan like that?”

Jimin swallows thickly, ignoring the rapid fire questions from the boys as he leans forward to look out the window, watching the venue grow smaller and smaller, the colors lowering in intensity but it makes him feel sick.

Remember the shade of her eyes, remember the shade of her eyes—!

“Jimin, are you okay—?”

“She’s my soulmate,” He interrupts, his voice ringing through and halting all the previous conversations in the car. The air takes on a tense silence as each of the boys absorb in Jimin’s words and the implication behind it before things start to add up—Jimin’s strange behavior, his unusually quiet nature, his flushed complexion and breathless nature even before the performances, how discombobulated he had been after seeing you for the very first time. It makes sense, and it all adds up.

Jimin casts his gaze down, the acid of regret and longing building up in the back of his throat as he watches the world outside the window. Everything is full of colors, still a degree too bright, but there is no more excitement or beauty in it. There’s something lacking in his life, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt it’s you. How could he possibly enjoy all this without the person he had been born to share this with?

He bites his lip and waits. Waits for the calls of sympathy that mean nothing to him, maybe even an apologize thrown into the mix for pulling him away from something that was clearly important to him, maybe an empty promise they could find you again.

He waits and waits, but no one says anything and he doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or even more hollow than before.

Contrary to Hoseok’s promise, Jimin finds himself getting no sleep throughout the night. He rolls around in his bed, light on the nightstand flickered on as a way to help him lay out the standard for colors that rest along the world around him. They shift around slightly, dimming in intensity for just a moment, before stays at the same level for a majority of the evening—meaning that perhaps you did not live as far as he had thought you did. You are still nearby, still within his grasp.

“I’m going to go look for her,” Jimin says by way of greeting when all the boys meet downstairs in the hotel lobby for breakfast. The boy had spent the evening alive, given that his roommate (aka poor Jungkook) couldn’t sleep from all the lights turned on the room. “I won’t leave the city until I can find her.”

Namjoon and Yoongi give each other slightly weary looks. “Jimin, you don’t know anything about her.”

Jimin throws the two older boys a dry look. “You didn’t know anything about your soulmate hyung,” He throws to Yoongi. “Yet who led us on a mad hunt trying to get to her?”

Yoongi glares.

Jimin sighs. “You all should know how difficult it is to stop thinking about a soulmate—she’s been on my mind all night. How would you feel if you were asked to abandon your soulmate? Especially since I don’t know when we’ll come back. Now that I know she exists and she’s real, I can’t go leave her.”

“I think you should be able to look for her,” Hoseok reassures, reaching over to pat him on the back. “It won’t be fair to ask anything else. We all know what it’s like to be so close, yet so far away.”

Namjoon sighs. “Management will probably want to hear all about this. You have two days until we leave for the next city Jimin, I really really hope that you can get ahold of her.”

Jimin smiles to himself. “I hope so too.”


The day after the concert finds you in your statistic lecture, tapping the top of your pen against your notebook, mind having long since drifted away from the words coming out of your professor’s mouth as you focus instead on the outfits each of your peers have dressed themselves in. You take in the different shades of blues or greens or reds, knowing that this is probably going to be the last time you ever saw color again. Or, at least, the last time for a few more months. Maybe even a few more years. Who knew when the boys would return back to your city for another tour.

You cast your eyes downwards, relaying the moment you saw Jimin for the very first time over and over and over again in your mind—the way he looked back at you leaving little doubt in your mind that he truly is your soulmate and he truly is the person you’re fated to spend the rest of your life with. It was as if all time and space had froze right then and there, leaving behind only you and Jimin to bask in each other’s presence. It had been a soothing sensation, something you hadn’t experienced in all your twenty years of walking the planet.

It hit you almost immediately how desperately you wanted to reach out for Jimin that evening, desperately wanting to hold onto him—not as Park Jimin but as Jimin , your soulmate and your other half and your world. It’s strange how important someone could be in spite of how little you could truly know about the other.

But then he was gone, just like that, a connection slashed by the closing of a door and you could sworn you felt your heart sinking and drifting further and further away from you the further and further Jimin moved away. The intensity you previously felt to be bathed in his presence gradually fading away, leaving you behind until everything is once again tinted with the lightest shade of gray. You don’t know how long it’s going to be like this, but you’re desperately trying to bask in every second.

The following day of how this manner as well, the colors still intact in your vision just as they had been the previous day, enough of a sign to show you that Jimin is still nearby. You desperately want to look for him, but you don’t even know where to begin. You don’t know if he want you, after seeing you the way you had seen him two days ago.

Karly and Irene do their best to try and keep your mind preoccupied, offering to take you out into the downtown streets upon the realization that your classes for the day had been canceled. They take you to one of their favorite corner coffee shops with wooden tables and mason jars for cups and guitar music drifting through the speakers, the sunlight shining through the windows—definitely something worth missing when Jimin left.

You find yourself laughing at a joke Karly has just made, looking down at your coffee to swirl the liquid in its container before you tilt your neck slightly upon the realization that light brown seems to be growing more defined, clearer and devoid of the original grayish complexion you could have sworn was in the cup just a few seconds ago.

But that could only mean…

You bolt out of your seat. “I have to go,” You whisper, barely feeding an explanation to Karly or Irene before you’re grabbing your jacket off the back of your chair and shouldering open the door to emerge yourself into the city life. All around you, the world is bright and vivid and alive but it doesn’t hurt or leave in a momentary state of confusion anymore. A world that is warm and sharp means that he’s nearby. Your previous fears of worthlessness and insecurity and not being enough for Jimin momentarily leaves you. There’s so much you want to say to him, so to let that moment pass by because of your fear seems far from ideal.

You don’t know where he is, and you don’t know where you’re going—but you look to the left, to the right, and you run.


As it turns out, maybe taking Taehyung’s offer to go into downtown as a final parting gift with the city before boarding an early morning flight tomorrow had been a good idea on Jimin’s part because he gets an answer to the questions plaguing his mind as soon as skylines and buildings tower over him. His vision gets clearer and brighter and more intense for the first time in two days but instead of running away from it, Jimin embraces it as he presses himself against the glass of the window.

“Jimin, what’s going on with you?” Taehyung inquires.

“She’s here,” Jimin throws back over his shoulder, hoping out of the car as soon as it parks against the curb. He barely bothers to check up with Taehyung before throwing open the door and dashing down the sidewalk. He doesn’t register Taehyung’s curse or the other boy fumbling with his seat belt before he’s on the ground too, shoes slapping against the pavement as the spring afternoon breeze settles in Jimin’s hair.

He doesn’t care if you don’t want him, he doesn’t care if his life might be too unpredictable for you—he can’t bear to leave you now, especially when he so desperately longs to know the scent of your hair or the breathless nature of your smile or the curve of your voice. There’s an unconditional devotion and pull he feels towards you, and he would consider himself the stupidest man alive if he let himself pass this opportunity. He doesn’t know when he’ll ever return to you, after all, or if you would ever return to him.

Jimin completely ignores Taehyung’s frantic, slightly more breathless calls of his name as he dashes down streets, stopping abruptly when the colors aren’t as intense as previous, and speeding up when they grow in strength against his eyes. He almost can’t make sense of anything else around him, not the pavement below his feet or the people at his side or the sharp corners of buildings and narrow alleys of the between. The only thing he can sense and feel and touch is, strangely enough, the thought of you. He runs where his feet will carry him, the colors blurring out as everything becomes bolder and brighter.

Until something in his heart tells him to stop, and he does. He freezes on the pavement, breath leaving his lungs like pants, chest heaving up and down, hair like a bird nest atop of his head. While attempting to slow his heart rate, his eyes roam across the city around him, keeping his eyes on the ground even though his heart wants to fly up to the heavens and above.

His eyes detect a flicker of movement up ahead, and his lifts his head up in time to see someone dashing from behind a building, running perpendicular to his current position on the sidewalk. Her hair is like a curtain that chases behind her, the side profile enough to showcase the flush of running against her face. She stops at the corner crosswalk, the point up ahead the 90 degree angle of their previous running directions.

The sunlight sees to follow her movements, luring Jimin towards her. Even though he’s not running anymore, his heart races inside his chest, his head spinning because how is it possible to recognize a complete and utter stranger ?

Still, there is without a shadow of a doubt of the figure up ahead, now no more than a few meters of space between. Jimin’s life is defined by inconsistency, knowing that there are just some things that are not meant to last forever and yet—!

There’s a lot of things he may not be confident or assured about but—!

Keeping his gaze fixated on his target, he paces over to her.

To you.

He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right behind you, your back turned as you appear to be catching your breath. He can count out the exact moment you open your eyes, because your form straightens like a board as you pivot your head to look in each direction. A weight of realization falls upon you, because the next movement you take is a peek over your shoulder—lips parting when you realize who is it. Very slowly, the rest of your body follows the gesture until you’re facing him completely, just as he is with you. He can see the waves of questions, words, gestures, and promises you wish to make to him; he’s sure that you can see the same thing in his own eyes.

There are a multitude of things he wishes to say to you, twenty years of catching up to do, but he settles with the most daring of them all:

“Hi, I’m Jimin.”

And you smile. “I’m Y/N,” You say back.

Considering it all, ‘hello’ might just be the bravest thing to say to another person.