Kim Namjoon's lucky.
He still remembers the times when he was just a nameless rapper, yelling words into a battered old phone with the most horrendous of sound qualities as he reads off lyrics from a glitching computer.
He always fights with his family over his dreams.
They've wanted him to follow the family trend. His family were all top tiered workers. Lawyers, Surgeons, Politicians. His mom had not stopped working even after his conception, hiring a nanny to care for him.
The worst of his family when he was young had been his cousin's job as an accountant.
An accountant.
Namjoon really could not see why that was a bad job. Yet his cousin had been ridiculed, looked down on by the family and seen as the dirt on their leathered feet. They saw him as a failure, someone who would never earn as much money as them.
He's seen that cousin clenching his fists under the table as his aunties passed to him heavy envelopes like charity service.
That very same cousin had turned on him the minute he voiced his trainee status as a rapper and suddenly he was the black sheep of the family.
They were all workaholics that rolled in wealth and fame.
It's not like he lacked anything. Like the rest of his family, Namjoon was smart. His IQ, higher than the average citizen, was boosted by tuition from the best of centres. His childhood consisted of teachers and lessons on math and science. It was no wonder that the minute he stepped into official education he propelled upwards like a fighter jet in a competition for pigeons.
He remained the cream of the crop for the next decade of his life.
It was easy for him. Unlike the other students who started from rock bottom, he had always been afloat in the ocean of education, chilling on the inflatable bed above the waters as his classmates struggled to swim to the surface.
It's just too bad he was born smitten for the arts.
So when he decided to not head for university despite scoring a number so high in his entrance examination that basically every door was open to him, his family had recoiled like oil against water.
It's his mother's soft heart that had kept him from the streets. He was, after all, their only child. He's written a lot of songs about his feelings on the matter, countless scribbles and typed letters. Now with the success of BTS, he could diss and make fun of everyone who had criticized him for his actions.
He liked to curse at them with words like 'heartless money-making machines' or 'steel robots that painted themselves in gold but had hearts of dirt'.
It still hurts when his aunties made jabs at him for his lack of a soulmate.
On his 20th birthday, he had been all smiles. Heart racing with anticipation, stomach fluttering with butterflies, honestly it was just the tension of his stomach muscles, raised sensitivity from anxiety creates the feeling of fluttering. He had woken up to nothing. No soul bond. No weird mark on his skin.
Absolutely nothing.
There's nothing wrong with that. Not everyone gets their soul bond on their 20th birthday, it just meant his soul mate was someone younger than him. That's all.
Still, disappointment clung to him like a cloud as the years passed and he grew older. He tried to reason to himself, saying that fame would make it hard for relationships and he should be thankful for the time given to him to mature enough to be careful when he actually gets his soulmate.
As he aged, his relatives started whispering to each other. Namjoon lumps it to their jealousy for his success and fame. Their own bitterness led to envious jabs at him. They talked about how his failure in his career led to the fates deciding to not gift him with a soul mate of his own. About how he sinned on stage, a trickster who spun dreams for millions of women.
The harshest came from cousins of his age who laughed at his makeup and the rings on his ears. They called him a weak sissy. A gay f*cker with his pretty girly get-ups and use of beauty products. He had nothing against homosexuals. Still, the way they said it hurt. It hurt him like poison in his mind.
It's why Namjoon rarely wears earrings. He's not like Taehyung or Jimin who sometimes docks themselves in pearled earrings and jewelled necklaces. Namjoon sticks to simple hoops and more manly jewellery most of the time when he can.
He doesn't know why he wore metal chained earrings today.
It's a day before their concert.
It's nothing they've never done. Another world tour for their fans. Fans that he appreciates very much. He's nothing without them, nothing but a man screaming words that should mean nothing to anyone else except himself. He owes them everything.
Namjoon is famous. He's not a newbie to fame. He's been balls deep in it since he was 18 years old and it's been five years of hiding from crowds and paparazzi. Five years of masks and glasses, bodyguards and security.
He's used to it and frankly speaking he finds it endearing to be so dearly loved by so many. Still, stress eats at him at the thoughts of possible failure and disappointment. The need to live up to the expectations of his fans is a strong feeling that burns in his chest and so after a morning of rehearsals. He opts to head to an art museum during their short break for a breather.
Distress. He says. While his members take naps and distress in their own little ways, he gets a small army of bodyguards to follow him to the local art museum.
He melts into the work with strips of plastic. It's his personal favourite. The work swallows you whole and takes him to his quiet place where he can sit comfortably in his mind. He spends an hour in that work just stewing in his mind, contemplating about life.
He's a deep thinker and he likes to think by himself sometimes, tapping on his phone when lyric inspiration hits him. He was about to leave. It's another hour before they start rehearsals again.
He never expected to meet her.
Namjoon's tall. His legs were longer than most and he attributes it to the reason why he's clumsier than most so it's easy to trip over her feet. It's even easier to catch her small frame and pull her into his embrace to break her fall.
Namjoon is not a virgin. One night stands were things that came with curiosity and the lack of a soulmate. An angry night with too many bottles of alcohol had sent him into the embrace of another soulmate-less woman. The pleasure had brought him to more hookups.
It's a thing he does with the older members of BTS. Frankly speaking, the virgins in the team weren't the youngest member, Jungkook, the member was three years younger than him and had huge eyes that stared blankly into space. It was the reason why most believed him to be innocent. Still, Jungkook was not the virgin.
It's funny enough, the oldest, Jin and the media-proclaimed sexiest, Taehyung.
Jin refused to wet his dick in a hookup, only because he said he's abstained for so long he might as well keep it for his soulmate. That doesn't mean Jin's never obtained pleasure from a woman. Taehyung's the purest in the entire group. He's never touched a woman sexually despite being the best flirt. His only lover was his right hand. His reason?
He wanted his soulmate to be his first. Cute but kind of sad because he's three years pass his soulmate age and with no soulmark, insight, Namjoon wagers he'll have to wait a few more years before he can lose his virginity.
Now, with their rising popularity, it was much more difficult to find easy pleasure as they used to a few years back. If anything, the recent scandal where a prostitute had filmed a sleeping idol in bed confirmed their worries.
You could say that the sexual frustration in the group was at an all time high which would have been higher if not for the internet. Namjoon's computer in his personal studio had been attacked by thousands of viruses from all the porn sites he watched with them.
Honestly, Namjoon's thankful that all the members did not have their soulmates despite hitting the age pass 20. It's a bad thing to be thankful for but he thinks having a soulmate would drive a certain wedge between them.
They were brothers in everything but blood. Still, jealousy was a strong feeling that could tear the closest of bonds and he didn't want to try it any time soon.
The girl in his arms.
He hadn't even looked at her face. It's all just a soft warm body pressed tightly against his own, her breasts were warm mounds that radiated so much heat he could feel it even through so many layers of clothes.
Yet his body had clenched and shivered so violently with arousal he's never been so worked up in his entire life. He's more aroused than the bumbling 18-year-old virgin who was about to have sex, more heated than the first time he had seen his first porn video online. She had smelled wonderful.
He could smell the slightly bittersweet tang of coffee on her breath but her body emitted the most amazing natural scent. He felt woozy from just breathing it in, drunk from the delicious smell pressed up against his body.
It's a feminine sweetness that reminded him of apples with a musky undertone that's aromatic like crispy pie crust with little caramel chips. Really, it smells nothing like food but it's just the closest thing his mind can link it to.
It does not help when she makes those small little moans. It was probably from the pain or the frustration, but his mind immediately dives right into the gutter and refuses to surface.
Her soft breath had tickled the nape of his neck and when she spoke.
The sound just paints an even more lovely picture of the woman in his arms.
It's sweet and lower than most girls, it's not the high pitch ring he is used to hearing in Korean women. This was dark chocolate dripping from her lips. His abdomen had burned with a pleasurable fire that roared in his veins. His very male organ stirring and throbbing at her words, dripping wet in his boxers. A shot of pleasure raced up his skin and it takes basically all his muscles to stop himself from shivering too hard.
His heart has never beat so fast and so strongly when she sits back to finally look at him. Physical attraction wrecking through his mind like a tornado.
Her hair was short, so short it rivals his own. She looked nothing like the average Korean women and he could see the South East Asian characteristics in her features. Honestly, at first glance, she wasn't perfect. Her face is too squared for the society's preference, her nose while small was a little lacking in a nose bridge.
Her eyes, however, were the prettiest he had ever seen. Her lashes were so long it fanned onto her face every time she blinked framing heavily lidded eyes that had so many creases it gives her a more exotic look. Her lips trembled, rosy and pink and round like rosebuds. Eyebrows a little messy, the tiny hairs growing out in different angles which she styles into a nice angle.
A doll. His mind supplies as her cheeks reddened into a shade he's never seen on a human before. It does not help that her ears tip upwards like an elf's.
Namjoon colours at the thought.
A fairy. His mind suggests again as his eyes absorbed the colour contrast of the huge bright yellow turtleneck against the blue of the plastic. The colour was so vibrant it's like a photo card in real life.
It doesn't help that the single crystal earring hanging from her ears glinted and sparkled, reflecting light on her face and into her eyes. It turns black orbs into natural amber hues.
His mouth dries.
He wished he could snap a picture to make it last longer. He wished he could just freeze time right there and then and just…
Honestly, just make love to this work of art. God help him. Namjoon mentally groaned. He felt like a perverted lecher and he just met her.
He watched enraptured as her tongue flicks out to wet sticking lips. Then she does something unspeakable that kills whatever self-control he has.
Her knees rubbed against his crotch. The delicious friction sending spurts of pleasure up his body and forced his very horny male organ to harden painfully.
It takes all his willpower to stop the strangled moan from bubbling out of his throat. The educated moral citizen in him falters against the lust that surged across his very being.
Namjoon wants to die when he sees realization flicker across her face. Her cheeks had darkened to even more crimson hues as she finally realizes the trick to standing. He's dazed and she's fast. She disappears after three low bows, running through plastic and vanishing from view as quickly as she came.
The loss of the feeling of her body against his is like stepping out from a warmed room to meet the cold outside. It's an indescribable emptiness that he doesn't know inflicted him until she leaves. It takes seconds for his mind to run through a thousand reasons why he feels this way and when it settles on one it sends his feet racing out of the artwork to be greeted by an empty gallery space.
His eyes darted around frantically as he spins, his feet pacing through the maze of the gallery. He heads for the main entrance, his eyes flickering for the bright yellow. He searches for minutes, running pass artwork after artwork without a second glance, something he rarely does.
His mind screaming for that cadmium yellow.
When security comes to pick him up, bodyguards questioning his frantic movements he's rambling with questions. When they answer with words that feature 'no' and 'we didn't see a girl in yellow'. He's silent and disappointed as he climbs back into the car to take him back to the concert venue.
Namjoon is smart.
It doesn't take much for a genius like him to realize that the girl had been his soulmate.
His not-yet-20 soulmate.
And he had let her go just like that, running through his fingers.
He had her in his embrace so close to his body, they might as well have been lovers.
It's later when someone points out the crystal hanging from the chained earring that a smile finally flickers across his face.
He keeps it safe in his wallet, stored in the compartment right next to a picture of his parents.
He promises to himself he'll give it back to her when he actually meets her one day.
As an intelligent human being, he's definitely not in love. He barely knows the girl but Namjoon's very sure his body had fallen head over heels for her.
