"What do you mean when you say that someone else makes you see color?" Jimin asks, forcing the question out between gritted teeth.

"If you wouldn't have interrupted me with your little outburst, then you would've already known what I meant," I chastise, narrowing my eyes at him.

Jimin sits back in his seat, his breath coming out in a little huff as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. Part of me feels bad for being so harsh with him, but I quickly push those feelings down. I had been so happy with how well he received the rest of the news that his outburst left me disappointed.

What's he so mad about anyway? It's not like-

"So this boy, Hoseok, he lets you see color as well?" my mother asks, her soft voice breaking me out of my angry thoughts.

"He does," I confirm, nodding my head. "But not as much as Jimin does."

My mother nods her head slowly, a million thoughts bouncing around behind her eyes. Suddenly she stops and fixes her eyes on me, "Describe it to me."

"Describe what?"

"What he makes you see, the way it makes you feel."

"Why?" I ask, curious.

She rolls her eyes at me, "If it's what I think it is, then I'm going to need all the information, Yoongi. Just do what I say, please."

I nod, thinking back to the scene in the coffee shop. My stomach drops at the memory of the muted colors, the unbalanced feelings they gave me. Taking a deep breath, I start to tell her everything.

"He had asked me to meet him at the cafe across from the company. When I went with him, Jimin was following me, so I could-"

"You knew I was there the whole time?" Jimin asks, interrupting me again.

"Of course I knew," I sigh, turning to face him. I tap beside my eye, "Color blind unless you're around remember?" Jimin's cheeks flush at the new information and he turns away from me abruptly. A small chuckle escapes me as I turn back to face my mother, her eyes gleaming as she waits for me to continue.

"Anyways," I start, "Jimin was following me from the beginning, so I could already see color when I got there. So for a while everything was normal. Then Hoseok went to the bathroom and I confronted Jimin and told him to leave." My brain replayed the events of those moments, slowing down and focusing on the feeling of his lips brushing against my cheek.

"And then?"

My father's deep voice brings my out of my memories. Clearing my throat, I try to keep the flush out of my cheeks as I continue on with the story.

"And then Jimin left. Everything went back to gray. I sat back down at our booth and waited for Hoseok to return. Then slowly color started to return to the things around me. The booth started to get a red tinge to it, the table was lightening to a blue. So rationally I thought that Jimin was coming back. So then I turned to look for him, but he wasn't there. Only Hoseok was. And then I realized that the colors weren't fully there. It was like they were washed out versions of what they could be." I grimace at the memory.

"From the look on your face, I can take it that it didn't sit all that well with you," my mother says softly.

"No, it didn't," I admit, shaking my head slowly. "Honestly, it made me feel a little nauseous. It felt wrong. And when I couldn't take it anymore, I ran out."

"And Hoseok?" Jimin pipes up, his voice curious. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing, I just said I couldn't do it and left."

"Poor guy," Jimin mumbles.

I turn toward him, narrowing my eyes at him. "I thought you didn't like Hoseok? A minute ago you got angry just because I mentioned his name. Now you feel sorry for him?"

Jimin sits forward, his angry gaze clashing with my own as he speaks. "I don't like him, don't get me wrong. But he clearly likes you, and he probably thinks he messed something up. I just feel bad for him, that's all. I know what it feels like to be consumed with confusion when it comes to you."

His words left me reeling. I wrack my brain for any comeback but come up empty. Jimin's gaze softens and he leans back in his chair, a sigh escaping him. "So what do you think this all means, Mrs. Min?"

"Well, I have heard stories about people who can mimic the effects of your soulmate." She brings her finger up to her mouth and starts to chew nervously on the nail. My father takes her hand, pulling it softly from her mouth before wrapping it in both of his. She glances up at him, a grateful look passing over her face before she turns back to me. "But that's all I've heard. Stories. There's nothing for sure. From what I recall these people were called Kindred Souls."

The words bounces around my head, bringing up a memory of Hoseok's voice.

"...But you only have one true soulmate. The rest are just.. What should we call them? Let's go with Kindred Souls for now. You could be happy with them…"

"Kindred Souls," I whisper. My eyes snap up to my mom, "Kindred Souls. That's what Hoseok said before."

A small frown appears on her lips, causing the space between her brows to wrinkle, "That's strange. Why would Hoseok know about Kindred Souls?" Her eyes narrowing on me. "What is it that you aren't telling me, Yoongi?"

Aw, hell. I'm going to have to tell her about the auras aren't I? But it's not really my business to tell… Maybe she'll understand.

"It's not my secret to tell, Mom. It's Hoseok's business, not mine."

By the way her eyes narrow even further I can tell that she isn't going to let me off that easily.

"Fine," I groan. "Hoseok, he sees things."

"What kind of things?" she asks, impatience ringing in her voice.

"From what he said, he sees auras. Not the normal kind that would tell you if a person is good or bad. Instead, he sees the auras of soulmates. If the color matches, then that person is your soulmate. Sometimes there are more than two people with the same color, he calls those people "Kindred Souls". You could live you life with a Kindred Soul and never even know that they weren't your full soulmate. But he also said that when you are with your full match, your aura flares," I explained, watching as my mother drank in the information.

"So he knows your not his match, then? After all, your aura would've flared up around Jimin. Not Hoseok." My father asks, his voice showing that he was slightly confused by everything I had told him.

"Not exactly," I admit. "You see, Jimin was around every time that Hoseok was with me. But the second time, he didn't know that Jimin was following us. So he may or may not have come to the conclusion that he's my real soulmate." The final words leave my mouth in a rush and I watch as the people around me try to process what I've said. When they do, chaos broke out in the room as their voices all yell out over one another.

"He thinks he's your soulmate?" Jimin yells.

"Why didn't you explain it to him?" my mother follows right after.

"This is crazy," my father says, his voice the quietest out of all of them.

I turn to Jimin addressing him first, "He doesn't think he's my soul mate. He is my soulmate. Just not as much as you are." I hoped that my words would reassure him, but they didn't seem to have the effect I wanted when the scowl on his face only deepened. Not having the time to placate him further, I turn to my mother. "I tried to explain it. But then he disappeared to the bathroom. And well you know what happened after that."

"So you panicked and, in the end, you didn't get to explain it all to him?" I nod and she sighs at me. "Well then. When you get back, the first thing you should do is explain it to him. He probably feels horrible," she says, her voice scolding me.

"Okay, I'll put that on my list," I say earning myself a glare from the small woman in front of me.

"He's your Kindred Spirit, Yoongi. Who knows, if you hadn't met Jimin-" she gestures to him, and he sits up when she does, fully engrossed in the conversation now "-first, you might have been with him right now."

"That's not necessarily true," I deny. "I could still be alone. Just because we're soulmates doesn't mean that we have to be together." Jimin sucks in a sharp breath beside me, gaining my attention. I turn to look at him, but he angles himself so I can't see his face.

What's his problem?

My mother sighs, her eyes sad as they meet mine. "Is there anything else that you want to know, dear?"

I think for a second, but come up blank. "No, I think that's it."

"Well you can always call us if you think of anything else. Who knows, you might even call just to talk. That would be nice." My heart aches at the sadness in her voice, knowing that I put it there.

I've been a crappy son.

"I'll call more often, Mom," I promise, reaching out to wrap her free hand in my own. She smiles up at me, her eyes bright.

"Great," she exclaims, a smile spreading across her face. "Now it's getting late and I don't want you two driving back in the dark. You should probably get going."

At her words of dismissal, our chairs scrape across the floor as we all stand. I follow my parents to the entryway, Jimin following along behind me quietly. I slip on my shoes, hugging my parents as we exchange our goodbyes. I walk out into the evening air, but don't hear Jimin's footsteps behind me. I turn to see him wrapped in my mother's arms, her lips moving as she whispers something in his ear. She pulls back, a meaningful look passing between the two of them.

I wonder what that's about….

Jimin's eyes briefly catch mine but they dart away almost as quickly as he makes his way towards me. He shoulders passed me without so much as a glance in my direction. If I didn't think he was in a bad mood before, I would know for sure now.

I sigh and follow behind him, slipping into the car. I start the car, the soft purring of the engine the only sound around us as we made our way back to Seoul. I drive along, following the GPS's robotic voice, as Jimin stares out the window, a tense silence filling the space between us. After two hours of nothing, I break.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" My whisper sounds like a bomb, shattering the silence that fills the car.

Jimin sighs, "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Anything. Just say something."

"I don't know what you want from me, Yoongi!" Jimin yells.

"What do you-"

My question is cut off as the car jerks to the side, a loud popping noise coming from Jimin's side of the car. I thrust my arm out in front of Jimin, my instincts telling me to protect him.

"What's going on?" Jimin yells, panic lacing his words.

"Relax," I say, whether to me or him I'm not entirely sure. Toning out Jimin's panicked screeching, I try to recall everything I ever learned about handling a blowout.

Press the gas for a split second.

The car stabilizes, no longer trying to throw us off the road..

Don't slam on the brakes.

I move my feet completely away from the pedals and allow the car to slow down to below 30 mph. I gently steer the car to the side of the road, slowing to a stop before turning the car off. I turn to look at Jimin, his face red from screaming.

"Are you okay?" I ask softly, afraid to frighten him.

"We almost died!" he yells.

I scoff at his overreaction. "No one almost died. I had it under control."

I get out of the car, moving around to Jimin's side to inspect the tire. Jimin's door open and he steps up behind me.

"Should I get the spare out?"

"There is no spare," I admit.

"What kind of car doesn't have a spare tire?"

"It had a spare tire... " I kick the ground, grave moving away from my foot. "But, I may or may not have had it removed," I say sheepishly.

"Why on Earth would you do that?"

"To make room for a subwoofer," I say, the words sounding pathetic even to me.

"A subwoofer? Really?" Jimin asks, incredulous. "We're in this mess because you wanted better BASS?"

"I never use the car! How was I supposed to know we would get a flat!" I defend.

"Then why even get a car!"

"For things like this, obviously," I scoff.

"Great, just great. So what do we do now?"

I pull out my phone, checking for a signal.

Great. Nothing.

I check our surroundings, looking for anything that might help us. That's when I see it:

MOTEL: VACANCY

2 Miles

I point to the sign, a scowl etched on my face.

"We walk."