I grab my phone off the table, slipping it into my pocket. I head for the door, but stop when Namjoon speaks.
"Right now? You're really going to do this right now?" he asks, incredulous. I turn back towards him, raising my brow.
"What do you mean? Should I wait until later?"
His mouth opens but no sound comes out. He takes a minute to gather his thoughts before speaking. "I just- I thought you would take longer to want to go out. You know, considering everything," he says.
"And by "everything", you mean Jimin dumping me on my ass?" I ask. He just nods, glancing away from me. I sigh, leaning against the door. "You said it yourself, right? It's been two weeks and I need to get out of here." I push off the wall, bouncing on my feet as energy bursts through me. "So I'm going to get out of here, I'm going to tell Hoseok to give up on me-" a smile spreads across my face, "-and then I'm going to call Jimin and tell him that I love him."
Namjoons jaw drops open, completely shocked. "What if it doesn't change anything?" he asks, worry filling his voice.
I shrug casually to try and hide the anxiety I feel building inside. "I don't think it will change anything. But Jimin used to chase me around declaring his love all the time and I'll be damned if I don't get to do the same," I say, smirking.
Namjoon rises to his feet, laughing. "That's the Yoongi I know!" he exclaims, a smile stretching across his lips. He walks over to me, his large hand swallowing my shoulder whole as he congratulates me. "I was getting worried about you. But now I'm glad to see that you won't let this keep you down."
"Two weeks is a long enough time to mope."
"You totally would've been here for another month if I hadn't come to save you," Namjoon gloats. "You probably would've starved to death." His eyes widen as he looks at me. "SHouldn't you eat before you go to Hoseok's? I know you haven't been eating well. You've lost so much weight," he says, eyeing my hollowed-out cheeks.
"No, no. I'm okay," I say, brushing off his concerns. If I was honest, I didn't really feel like eating anything. My stomach was in knots and I had to work overtime to keep the nausea from overtaking me. Namjoon watched me warily, his eyes showing his uncertainty. Eventually he gave in, taking a step back from me.
"Okay, then. Let's go," he says, brushing passed me to walk to the front door. I race after him, my new found courage propelling me forward until I'm right beside Namjoon. I close my apartment door, locking it quickly.
Namjoon and I walk down the hallway, my eyes drawn to Jimin's front door. My steps falter, the urge to knock almost overwhelming me. Noticing my hesitation, Namjoon places his hand on my back, nudging me along softly. "Come on, Yoongi," he says softly. I nod, moving ahead.
Just wait for me, Jimin. I'll be back for you.
Hoseok's apartment building looms in front of me, the sleek exterior making me feel inadequate in comparison. Taking a deep breath, I walk to the front door. I search the list of occupants before finding Hoseok's: number 37. I press the button, the intercom buzzing until Hoseok's voice comes through the small speaker.
"Hello?"
"Hoseok, it's me," I say. Realizing that he can't see me, I breathe out a quick, "It's Yoongi."
"Oh, Yoongi-hyung," he says excitedly. "Come on up." I hear a click as the door unlocks. I walk in, moving straight to the elevators. They open with a soft ding and I enter the cramped space. Hoping that the layout is similar to my own building, I press the button for the 3rd floor. The doors slide shut, and I watch as the display changes, counting all the way up to 3 before the doors spring back open. I walk down the hall, eyeing each number until I come upon the right one. I knock, standing back to wait as footsteps approach from inside.
Hoseok throws the door open, a smile as bright as the sun gracing his features. "Yoongi-hyung," he sings, grabbing my hand. "Come in, come in." He pulls me inside, closing the door behind us.
I look around his apartment, taking in the sleek design. I can't see the colors very clearly, so I just imagine everything as yellow, since it's the color that fits Hoseok the best. Still holding onto my hand, he leads us deeper into the house until eventually we come to the kitchen. I can smell something cooking, but don't ask about it. Hoseok gestures to a stool by the counter, "Go ahead and sit down, Yoongi. I was in the middle of making lunch. Do you want some?"
"I shake my head, taking the offered seat. "No thank you. I'm not hungry."
He nods, grabbing a apron off the back of the chair and tying it around himself. He dances about the kitchen, humming as he makes sure everything cooks well. I watch him, in awe of how graceful he is, until he turns to me, his cheeks darkening when he realizes that I was staring. He clears his throat, looking back to his food. "How did you know where I lived?"
"I asked Namjoon," I say, shrugging. My brows draw together in worry, "Was that bad? Should I not have done that?"
"Oh! No, no. It's fine," he says, reassuring me. "I was just wondering because I don't think I ever told you." He tastes his food, smiling at the flavor.
"Well I don't think I ever told you my phone number," I teased. He chokes on whatever he was tasting, patting his chest as he tries to calm the coughs wracking through him.
He turns to me, smiling sheepishly. "I guess that's true." He turns the stove off, grabbing a bowl off the counter. He pours some soup into the bowl, careful not to spill any, before coming to sit across from me. I watch as he takes a few bites, a serious expression darkening his features when he finally looks at me again. "Why are you here, Yoongi?"
I freeze, the question catching me off guard. "I came to talk to you," I sigh.
He nods slowly, never breaking eye contact. "It's about Jimin, isn't it?"
At the sound of his name, I have to keep myself from flinching. My hand trembles as I reach up to scratch the back of my neck, Hoseok's eyes drawn to the movement. If he notices my shaking, he doesn't mention it. I smile weakly, "How did you know?"
He pushes his bowl to the side, his hunger forgotten as he stares at me. "I've known for weeks, Yoongi."
"Known what?" I ask, feigning ignorance.
"That I'm not your true soulmate," he says softly, a touch of sadness creeping into his voice.
"How'd you find out?"
A bitter laugh escapes him, and he glances away from me. But not before I catch the glassy look in his eyes. "Do you remember the last time I saw you? Two weeks ago?" I nod. I remembered. I had crashed into him and then completely blew him off. "Well, I saw you. And you were right there, in my arms. But your aura wasn't blazing like it usually does," he admits, his voice thick. I want to reach out and touch him, to comfort him, but it would only make things harder for him. He turns to look at me, no longer trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up. "It's Jimin, isn't it? He's the complete match?"
"Yeah," I admit, unable to meet his eyes as I look down at my lap.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asks. "Were you afraid to hurt my feelings? I know I came on a little strong but-"
"Stop Hoseok," I say, interrupting him. I bring my eyes to his, determined to make sure he understood what I was saying. "This isn't because of you. This is all on me, okay?" I watch him, waiting for him to nod. When he doesn't, I ask him again: "Do you understand, Hoseok? This is not your fault."
"I understand," he says meekly, breaking eye contact with me to stare into his own lap.
"I should've told you sooner," I admit. "But I'm like you in a way, and that scared me."
"What do you mean?"
I take a deep breath, preparing to share my life's biggest secret for the first time since Namjoon. "Well, you see auras of soulmates right?" He nods, eager for me to continue. "I don't see auras or anything cool like that. But, I am colorblind." His cocks his head in confusion, so I continue. "I'm colorblind until my soulmate is around. Then I can see colors."
I watch as he processes what I've told him, his eyes widening bit by bit. "So what you're saying is that Jimin makes you see color?"
"He does," I confirm, nodding. "But not just him. You do as well." He opens his mouth to say something, excitement gleaming in his eyes, but I cut him off. "But not as much as Jimin, because you're not the perfect match. With Jimin, everything is vibrant. With you, it's muted." I watch as his face falls, hurt shining in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Hoseok. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I just think you should know the whole truth."
"I understand. But-" he smiles, "-I still make you see color, right?"
"Yes," I answer, hesitant, unsure of where he's going with this.
"Then why not be with me?" he asks, bouncing in his seat as his excitement grows at the idea.
"Hoseok, I-"
"I know that Jimin in your match, Yoongi. I know that more than anyone. But I also know-" his eyes meet mine, sympathy shining in them, "-that he left you. I would never do that, Yoongi. I would never leave you like he did." He reaches across the table, his hand open. I glance between his face and his hand, and sigh.
"I can't Hoseok," I say, his face falling, fist closing to retreat back to his side.
"Why not?"
"Because we both deserve better than that," I state, my eyes begging him to understand. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life knowing that I'll always think of Jimin when I see color? That anytime I see someone with cotton candy, I'll wonder if he ever dyed his hair back to that color. That anytime we look up at the sky, I'll always remember that the first time I ever saw it, really saw it, was all because Jimin crashed into me on the street?" Tears fall down his face and he swipes at them angrily. "You deserve someone who wants to be with you, Hoseok. You deserve a perfect match. And sadly that's not me," I say, standing from the chair.
"Yoongi-" he says, his voice breaking. I shake my head, reaching to brush a tear from his cheek. He lowers his head, sobs wracking his body. "Please, Yoongi, we can just try," he pleads, desperate.
I shake my head, "I can't do that to you, Hoseok. And I won't do it to myself, either." He sobs harder, the sound making my chest ache. I turn and walk away, leaving him to put himself back together.
Once back in the hallway, I pull out my cell phone, trepidation filling me.
Come on, Yoongi. Just dial the number, it's not that hard.
I take a deep breath and click on the Contacts app, I scroll until I see Jimin's contact information. I click on it, my finger hovering over the call button. Gathering all my courage, I press it, holding the phone to my ear as it rings. The phone continues to ring and fear that he won't answer washes over me.
I knew this was stupid, of course he's not going to-
"Hello?"
At the sound of his voice, my heart freezes, my brain stops functioning. It had only been two weeks since I last heard his voice, but in this moment it felt like forever.
"Yoongi?" he asks, impatient.
I'm so preoccupied by his voice that I don't notice the door in front of me opening, colliding with the right side of my body. Pain explodes in my stomach, my vision going blurry as the world tilts around me. I barely register the pain of my body hitting the ground through the pain raging in my stomach. I hear voices around me, panicking, as I lay there, darkness intruding on the edges of my vision.
As it overtakes me, the last sound I hear is Jimin's quiet "Hello" calling out to me from my phone.
