There’s something soft underneath his cheek, something both oddly soft but firm as well. Like the skin of a peach, but without the fuzziness. Blearily, head pounding a vicious drumbeat in his head, Jeongguk opens his eyes, grimacing at the stickiness this action brings about. There’s crust around his eyes and dried drool at the corner of his mouth, and Jeongguk feels really gross.

“I think we drank a little too much last night,” Jeongguk mumbles against the firm chest below him. He brings up a hand to clutch at his head as it spins around at a dizzying pace, stomach whirling uncomfortably.

There’s a muffled groan from below and lazy arms reach up to wrap slowly around Jeongguk’s waist, tugging him back down to nuzzle against a broad chest. “I hate alcohol,” Jimin curses lowly under his breath as he buries his nose in Jeongguk’s mop of brown hair and inhales deeply, taking in the smell of roses and chocolate and home.

“So do I,” Jeongguk says, too out of it to come up with a witty comeback like he usually does when Jimin says something stupid.

They doze for a few minutes, drifting in and out of uneasy sleep, both too tired to move, and then the alarm on the bedside table goes off and splits the air with a screech that makes the pain in Jeongguk’s head ten times worse.  

“Turn it off! Turn it off!” He shouts, sitting straight up in bed to wave his arms around wildly as if doing so will somehow make the alarm stop making that horrible sound.

Jimin surges up in one desperate movement and lunges halfway across the bed to reach the bedside table, slamming his hand down on the alarm so hard that it falls off the table and clatters to the floor, effectively stopping the shrill sound from splitting Jeongguk’s head in half. 

“Thanks,” Jeongguk says, chancing a look at Jimin. His husband’s eyes are glazed with sleep, his hair is matted on his head in a mess of orange tangles, and his pink lips are pliant, stretching wide with a yawn. Beautiful, Jeongguk thinks. “Let’s take a bath,” he suggests. “I feel gross.”

Jimin nods, rubs at his eyes with two fists and smiles drowsily at Jeongguk. “Yes, please. A bath sounds nice.”  

They stumble to the bathroom and somehow manage not to collapse along the way. Jeongguk leans on Jimin’s shoulder and wonders why they thought it would be a good idea to drink half of the beer in the household. His head feels fuzzy and warm and he’s only so glad to fill the bath with hot water and sink down to his chin in soapy bubbles, sighing in relaxation when his tense muscles begin to loosen up. 

His eyes slide closed as behind him, Jimin sponges his back in circular motions, scrubbing him down and making him feel so good. I married an angel, he thinks. And then aloud, “I love you, Jimin.”

Jimin giggles and the sound is so big and bright and bubbly and fills up the whole room with the type of happiness only Jimin can bring that Jeongguk finds the corners of his mouth pulling up into a smile,  his first one of the day. “I love you too, Jeongguk.” Jimin presses a kiss to his nape and murmurs against the skin, “so much. I love my boo so much.”

Jeongguk’s heart jolts and for some reason, he feels shy. His cheeks are stained a rosy red as Jimin continues to pepper kisses to the back of his neck. He squirms slightly in Jimin’s grip and knows that his blush has spread to his ears when Jimin laughs again and plants one kiss to both of his ears.

“You’re precious,” Jimin declares with a soft look in his eyes he only ever gets around Jeongguk.

Jeongguk hides his face behind his hands and mumbles, “I think you’re precious too.”

-----

They clean up around the house for a bit after the bath, picking up discarded underwear and empty bottles and dirty socks. Jeongguk cringes when he sees a sticky mess of dried beer on the floor, it obviously had spilled at some point during the night and hadn’t been picked up, so now the floor is covered in dried beer and someone needs to clean it up. Jimin catches a glimpse of the mess and mumbles something about “bathroom” and Jeongguk rolls his eyes, knowing he’s going to have to clean it.

He heads to the cabinet under the sink for cleaning supplies but groans aloud in frustration when he comes to the realization that there are no supplies. They’ve run out a while ago and now he needs to go to the store for more. This is turning into a long process and Jeongguk is not up for it but if he doesn’t do it then no one will.    

“I’m heading over to the store!” Jeongguk calls out. Their house is relatively small so he’s certain Jimin can hear him from any room in the house. “Want anything?”

“Chips please!”

“Ok!”

He pulls on one of Jimin’s oversized hoodies, stretching the black material tight around him, and locks the door on his way out. It’s a nice day today, the sky is blue and the clouds are puffy and white, they almost look like a painting and Jeongguk stops to snap a quick picture of them, sending it to Jimin who replies with a, “pretty!😍”

Jeongguk smiles and his body feels like it’s floating, high on joy. Sometimes, he still can’t believe that Jimin is his husband. It’s surreal to wake up to a warm body beside him, to chat over breakfast about nothing and everything, to return home after a long day knowing that Jimin is waiting for him back at home with open arms and a warm smile. He doesn’t know how he ended up so lucky, but he’s not going to question it.

He imagines Jimin cuddled up on the couch watching cartoons and waiting for his chips and hurries the rest of the way to the store, swinging his arms as he jogs, eager to get back home.

The store is busy on the weekend and Jeongguk ducks and weaves through the throng of people as he heads to the cleaning aisle. He picks up the materials needed, throws them in the basket without looking, and makes a beeline to the snacks section. There aren’t many choices left since there are so many kids swarming around, but Jeongguk manages to find a bag of potato chips in the very back of the shelf as well as a box of chocolate goodies, and he cheers inside of his head as he heads to the checkout station.   

He takes a look at the chocolate box and tries to count how many are inside, and isn’t looking up when he collides with another body and goes tumbling to the floor. His box flies out of his hand as well as his basket, and he groans, rubbing at his ankle, which he had landed on quite harshly.

“I’m so sorry!” The person he had collided with rushes over to him, a man with big eyes and blonde hair. He looks genuinely apologetic and reaches out a hand to help Jeongguk up. “I wasn’t looking where I was going! I’m sorry!”

Jeongguk accepts the hand and is about to say, “it’s fine,” when the words freeze on the tip of his tongue as a tingly, electric shock zips through his whole body, from his fingertips to his toes, in a vibration that shakes him to his very core in a startlingly pleasant kind of way. He’s only felt this shock once, only felt it with Jimin the very first time they had touched, and he knows it’s something only soulmates feel when they touch for the first time. The Spark, everyone calls it.  

The man looks elated, a grin stretching slowly across his mouth in an imitation of a box, teeth straight and white and pearly. “Looks like we’re soulmates!” He says cheerfully, ecstatic, and Jeongguk feels his stomach tighten with sickness. Nausea drains all the color from his cheeks and he thinks, how is this possible? I already have a soulmate. 

Taehyung stares down at the pale boy looking up at him. He’s quite possibly the most beautiful human being he has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, and it’s almost bizarre that someone as perfect as him is his soulmate.

He tightens his hand around the boy’s delicate palm, the skin smooth against his own calloused hand, and he can’t help but admire the pink-trimmed nails, the clear polish that shines against the harsh supermarket lights. Soulmates. He has a soulmate.

This is too good to be true, really. Because Taehyung has been hoping and praying for this moment since the day he learned about soulmates and he can’t believe that he has his very own. His very own soulmate, right in front of him.

Taehyung can already picture their future together; bright, starry nights dancing in the moonlight, soft white light cascading around their shoulders and bringing wings to their backs, feeding each other over the breakfast table as the news plays quietly in the background and their hair is messy and rumpled and resembles bird nests but it’s perfect, orange sunsets filling the air with static electricity and the warmth of those chocolate brown eyes gazing at him with nothing but love. He can almost feel it.

“N-no,” there’s a small whisper from below and Taehyung fixes his soulmate with a questioning look. He kneels down beside him and squeezes his hand in what he hopes is conveyed as comfort. Instead, the boy flinches and tries to yank his hand away, but Taehyung’s fingers hold his in an unrelenting grip. Now that he has him, Taehyung isn’t planning on ever letting go. The boy shakes his head frantically from side to side. “No,” he whispers again, “this isn’t possible. This can’t be possible.”

Worried, Taehyung reaches out a hand to touch his cheek, run his fingers through his hair, reassuringly clasp his shoulder, but the boy swats his hand away and leans back. “What’s wrong?” Taehyung furrows his brows, he doesn't understand why his soulmate is acting like this. Shouldn't he be... happy? Jumping for joy? 

“I-” the boy looks down at their linked hands and tries again to pull away without success. “You’re not my soulmate. You’re not. I already have a soulmate.”

Taehyung breath catches in his throat and he swears he can feel the way his heart falls out of his stomach, down to his legs, shooting out from his feet to shatter on the floor. It breaks into a million tiny pieces and he knows that even if he were to try to pick up the remnants the glass would just cut his fingers and tear open his flesh.  His hand loosens its tight grip on the boy’s wrist and he pulls it away with one strong tug, holding it close to his chest and looking offended as if Taehyung has hurt him in some way.

And maybe, in some way, Taehyung has hurt him. The boy looks so horrified, so full of disbelief… like he can’t quite seem to come to terms with the fact that they are soulmates. And to be honest, neither can Taehyung. If what he said is true, if he already has a soulmate, then Taehyung has no purpose. There’s no purpose in his life without a soulmate to be there beside him for all of eternity. This boy in front of him with delicate skin and pink cheeks is the only thing he’s been living for all of his life, and if he can’t have him then he would rather die.  

“But I am your soulmate,” he protests, voice going smaller as the boy’s glare grows fiercer. “When we touched- the Spark! You felt it, didn’t you? I know you did!” He grows frantic as the boy inches away from him.

The boy shakes his head, “it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I met my soulmate a long time ago, and he isn’t you.” He lifts up his other hand and flashes a golden ring at Taehyung. Taehyung squints, trying to catch a glimpse of the initials engraved on the ring, and sees PJM before the boy once again lowers his hand. “I’m married, ” he stresses the word. “So just… just stay away from me. Just stay away.”  

Taehyung’s bottom lip trembles and he bites on it hard to distract himself from the piercing pain that fills him as water would to a cup. It isn’t common for one to reject their soulmate so no one really knows the consequences in doing so, but as unbearable grief fills Taehyung, spreading from his toes and up, up, upward, devouring him whole and souring the roof of his mouth, unraveling what remains of his heart, Taehyung feels a desperation he has never felt before, a burning need for the boy sitting just across from him, a need to touch him and hold him down and make him his.

Never let him go , the desperation urges. And if insanity is the price of unrequited love than Taehyung welcomes it with open arms. If insanity means he can keep his soulmate for all of eternity than Taehyung will willingly close his eyes and accept the darkness.

-----

Jeongguk stands up abruptly and dusts off his pants, wearily eyeing the man still sitting on the floor. He doesn’t know how this is possible, doesn’t know why he felt the Spark with this man when he already has a wonderful, amazing, incredible soulmate of his own, but right now, he just needs to get away from this place. Away from this man who can’t possibly be his soulmate, away from this bustling store full of curious stares and judgmental eyes, and back in Jimin’s warm, firm arms where he belongs.

He hastily picks up his basket and throws in everything that had fallen out, and turning without a second glance heads to the checkout counter with the shortest line. He’s just finished paying and slings the plastic bag over his shoulder when a commotion from behind catches his attention and he turns, far too slowly, however, to stop the man from running at him with full speed and pushing him to the ground, throwing all of his weight on top of Jeongguk.

Jeongguk winces as his back smacks against the hard floor and a pained whine escapes his lips as hands grab onto his shoulders and shake him roughly. What? He thinks dazedly. Blonde hair glints in the light, a limp halo that surrounds a handsome, tan face, and Jeongguk thinks soulmate before the man leans down and presses an insistent kiss to his mouth.  

Warm. Feels good. A tongue crams into his mouth and fills him with a mind-numbing sensation that takes away all his air and makes him breathless. Jeongguk feels like he is dissolving, being consumed whole by the man pressed up against him, holding him down and opening him up and not letting him think. His bones feel like they are on fire and Jeongguk hears the ocean in his ears and music in his soul but then it’s all over and people are pulling them apart. Someone shouts in Jeongguk’s face, “sir! Are you alright?”

Jeongguk’s head hurts and his back is aching and that man has such soft lips but- no! Jeongguk shakes his head in a vain attempt at clearing it. “What happened?” He asks, for some reason feeling so tired that all he wants to do is collapse right then and there and take a nap.

“Another customer attacked you,” the salesman says, “Don’t worry, we called security and he was escorted elsewhere.”

Muted anger at the man settles in his stomach but it’s not as strong as it should be, maybe because Jeongguk is hurting everywhere and all he can think about is the pain in his head, or maybe because the harsh press of foreign lips against his own is burning brightly in his mind, pushing every other thought into grey shadows. Jeongguk reaches up with two fingers to touch his lips, feeling how the skin bumps up against the pads of his fingers, plump and red.  

“Do you have anyone that can come pick you up?” The salesman asks quietly.