Archive of Our Own

Some people got clothes or new dishes or Lego sets for their birthday. Some people even got cars or trips or engagement rings.

Jimin got a curse.

It didn’t start with a curse. It started with his usual morning alarm, because the calendar had dropped his birthday on a Friday and the relentless grind of capitalism didn’t care that he was turning twenty-five today. 

Jimin went to work, where he got cards and cupcakes (positive) and a surprisingly strong smack in the nose from a mistimed overenthusiastic gesture (negative) from one of his kindergarteners. He slogged home through the cram and crush of rush hour—and then, a few hours later, he stepped out again, in a very different outfit than what he’d worn to teach his students.

It was the end of the work week, the weekend a beckoning sprawl at his feet. It was his birthday. It was Friday the thirteenth, which always gave his birthday that extra sparkle when it lined up. He was twenty-five today, a whole quarter of a century. Jimin was going to celebrate all of that the way God intended: drinking and dancing.

“I hate tequila,” said Jimin, and then punctuated that statement by throwing back the shot Hoseok had bought him anyway.

“It hates you too, babe,” said Hoseok, flashing him a tipsy finger heart before shooting his own shot. He gagged and wiped away tears from one eye with his sleeve, setting his shot glass down on the table with a clatter. “Wait, I just remembered I hate tequila too.” He shot a look around. “Who let me buy tequila? Why did none of you stop me?” 

“I literally said tequila was terrible,” said Seokjin, happily nursing his own non-tequila drink.

“The word you used was hateful,” said Taehyung, through a mouthful of nuts. 

“And I was right and all of you would be much happier in life if you listened to me, as your wise and all-knowing hyung.”

“You sat down on your pizza two hours ago, wise and all-knowing hyung,” said Jimin, giggling. Hoseok almost spat all over himself as he erupted with laughter.

“That wasn’t me,” Seokjin said haughtily. 

“It sure looked like you.”

“It was a clone.”

“Was this clone more handsome than you?” asked Taehyung, with a shit-eating grin.

Seokjin squawked indignantly. “It’s impossible to be more handsome than me!” He gestured at himself, somewhat haphazardly as the influence of alcohol played havoc with his ability to remember where his head was located on his shoulders. “Look at this face! This is what they call peak performance.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw someone more handsome on the train yesterday,” Taehyung said breezily. 

“Sacrilege! Blasphemy! I’m removing you from my will, Kim Taehyung.”

“I still get your plushie collection, right, hyung?” said Hoseok.

Seokjin eyed him. “Stop looking so eager for me to die.”

Hoseok appropriately contorted his face into what was either consternation or constipation. Jimin and Taehyung locked eyes and both fell over laughing. Hoseok threw peanut shells at them, which only made them laugh harder. Seokjin started hitting the flying peanut shells with his fingers like he was batting home runs. Hoseok fell off his chair (again) laughing. 

Seokjin went to get them all another round of drinks. Taehyung, their social butterfly, saw someone he knew across the club and dashed off to go say hi, ignoring Jimin’s melodramatic protests of being abandoned on his birthday. He and Hoseok leaned tipsily against each other and watched as both Seokjin and Taehyung were hit on by roughly every third person who laid eyes on them. 

“Why are you sitting here?” Hoseok suddenly demanded.

Jimin turned his head to raise his brows at him. “Why am I suddenly being attacked?”

“You should be out there!” Hoseok gestured dramatically at the dance floor. Jimin shielded his already bruised nose. “Finding some hot muscle bunny to grind on you until you’re both all worked up and have to go fuck in the bathrooms.”

“Please stop writing fanfiction in your head about me.”

“Jiminie!” wailed Hoseok, draping himself over Jimin’s shoulders. “You shouldn’t be alone on your birthday.”

Jimin’s heart did something that involved pinching. “I’m here with all my best friends, hyung.”

Hoseok sighed, still half flung over Jimin’s lap. “I know. You know what I mean, though.”

Jimin did. He’d been alone for so long it had started to seep into his bones, like he’d been standing outside in the cold for too long and might never be able to get warm again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gone on a date. He could (unfortunately) remember his last hook-up, but even that had been months ago. Loneliness was the background noise to his entire life these days.

He hardly appreciated being reminded of it at his fun, carefree birthday party, though. His mood curdled. “I don’t want an anonymous bathroom fuck as a consolation prize.”

Hoseok sat up a little, his eyes slightly cross-eyed and blurry. “I know.” He cupped Jimin’s cheeks and stared him down like he was about to proclaim something profound and life-altering. “Would you like me to suck your dick?”

Jimin burst out laughing. “Huge no.”

“Would you like to suck my dick?”

“Even bigger pass, thank you.”

“It’s not gay if it’s just helping out a bestie, you know.”

“We’re literally both gay, Jung Hoseok.”

Hoseok sniffed. “Bi, thank you very much.”

“It’s an umbrella term, hyung. Queer your vocabulary.”

“I’ll queer your vocabulary, hot stuff,” said Hoseok in an over-the-top sexy voice that made them both collapse into each other laughing.

Hoseok peeled himself out of Jimin’s neck as his giggles bubbled down. He patted Jimin’s cheek fondly as he reached for his drink. “You’re going to find your soulmate one day, Jiminie. I just know it.” He threw back the rest of his drink and sent Jimin a lopsided smile. “You’re too lovely not to.”

Jimin stared at him, an odd swirl of emotion clenching in his chest. He hadn’t expected to be walloped over the head with that tonight. He’d much rather have gone back to the smack in the nose from the five-year-old. “What do I owe you for this session, palm reader?” said Jimin, opting to lighten the mood.

“On the house because you’re cute,” said Hoseok, with a cheesy, terrible wink that made Jimin laugh again. 

“If I’m so cute, then come dance with me,” said Jimin, and yanked him to his feet. 

Jimin danced and drank and danced some more and drank some more until he spun the night into fun like straw into gold. Nothing heavy was going to weigh him down on his birthday, thank you very much. And it worked, his mood all buoyant bubbles and giddy giggles, spilling past the far side of midnight.

It worked, right up until he was weaving through the crowd on his way to the door. He was tipsy, but it was someone else bumping into him that sent him careening into the woman beside him, spilling her violently red drink all down the front of her (of course) white shirt.

Jimin’s stomach dropped. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

The woman glanced down at her ruined shirt and then looked back up. She had bright green contacts and absolutely cutthroat winged eyeliner Jimin would be tempted to ask for tips on, if she didn’t look like the throat she wanted to cut was his. “You think you can just get away with this?” she said icily.

Jimin blinked. “No, of course not. I’ll buy you another drink, and if you let me know how much, I have some cash I can give you for the drycleaning.”

“I don’t want your money, I want your misery.”

“Uh. I’m sorry?”

“You will be.” The woman gripped his wrist in a shockingly cold hand, her perfect lipstick job curling into a knife slash of a smile. “Loneliness, huh?”

Jimin yanked his arm away, stepping back as sudden fear pierced him. She wasn’t touching him anymore, but that spot on his wrist still felt ice cold. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you, Park Jimin.” Jimin’s fear intensified. It seemed to make this strange horrible woman smile even more. “You want to find your soulmate so badly, do you?” She snapped her fingers. “Well, there you go. I’m giving you the chance. Find him if you can.” Her unnatural eyes seemed to glow. “If you can survive.”

Then she shoved past him and vanished into the crowd.

Jimin stood stock still for several moments, stunned and unsteady and wondering if he’d drank more than he’d thought. He glanced over his shoulder, but no matter how long he looked he couldn’t see that woman anywhere. Maybe he’d imagined the whole thing. Maybe he needed to chug a bunch of water and go the fuck to bed.

That weird interaction rattled him so much he half-expected everything to be weird when he grabbed his leather jacket and pushed outside. But it was all as it should be, Hoseok with his nose in his phone as he waited for the car they were sharing. 

Jimin fell in beside him, leaning against the wall and reeling in a steadying breath. “I just had the weirdest fucking interaction.”

Hoseok looked up immediately. “Good weird or bad weird?”

“Bad weird. Creepy weird.”

“Men,” said Hoseok, in the tone one would use to say flesh-eating bacteria or endless diarrhea.

“Not a man,” said Jimin, shaking his head. “A woman.”

“Let’s hear it for feminism,” deadpanned Hoseok, circling one finger in the air like a poor man’s whirler.

Jimin snorted. He appreciated Hoseok’s efforts to soothe his mood, the steady stream of humor already easing his uneasiness. “Someone knocked me into her and I spilled her drink on her, and when I offered to pay for the drycleaning she said—direct quote—’I don’t want your money, I want your misery’.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “Uh.”

“That’s what I said!”

“You said uh?”

“What the fuck else do you say to that?”

Hoseok popped his lips and nodded. “Fair.”

Jimin shook his head, mouth forming a bitter line. His wrist had stopped feeling icy, but there still seemed to be ice chunks rattling around in his stomach. “And then she grabbed my wrist and told me—something about daring me to find my soulmate if I survived.”

“What the fuck.”

“I know.” Jimin didn’t mention the part where her eyes had seemed to glow and that she’d somehow known his name. That seemed way too farfetched to be believed. Surely he must’ve made that part up. That wasn’t the kind of thing that actually happened in the real world. “It freaked me right out.”

Hoseok frowned. “Do you want to go back in and find someone? Tell a bouncer or something?”

That seemed like an overreaction for what was, at the end of the day, just a conversation. Jimin shook his head. “I just want to go home. Leave the weird vibes at this club and take off these fucking boots.”

“Done and done.” Hoseok tapped him on the forehead with one finger with a lopsided smile. “I officially clear all lingering bad vibes.” He slung one arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “There, all fixed.”

Jimin fell helpless victim to a smile. “What would I do without you?”

“Perish,” Hoseok said seriously. “Oh, thank fuck that’s our ride,” he said, shaking his hands at the heavens in praise a couple times before grabbing Jimin and towing him toward the silver car coasting to a halt at the curb. 

Hoseok lived a couple blocks closer, so they set out for his address first. Hoseok absently hummed along with the music as they drove, checking his phone again. Jimin watched the streets roll past and stubbornly beat that bad weird interaction with a stick whenever it popped up in his head. He was going to forget it. He was forgetting it. It was forgotten. More or less. 

The car screeched to a halt so suddenly it flung Jimin into the back of the passenger seat in front of him. Hoseok shrieked in alarm, his phone flying out of his hands and thudding somewhere to the floor as he was jolted forward too. 

Jimin braced himself on the seat, heartbeat trying to kick right through his ribs. “What the hell are you—”

“Get out!” bellowed their driver, already throwing his door open and making a break for it. “Get out!”

Jimin spotted the billows of smoke curling from the hood of their car and decided that was good advice to take, very rapidly. He and Hoseok scrambled out of the car on either side, Hoseok swearing about his lost phone. Jimin bolted to the sidewalk across the street, laying some healthy distance between himself and the smoking car. He fumbled for his phone as he leapt onto the curb and swore when he realized it was dead.

“My phone’s dead,” he yelled. He whirled back to face the street, thinking surely their driver had to have a working phone. “Sir, do you have your ph—”

Jimin’s words cut off as he finished turning around. His brain violently rejected what his eyes were insisting on. This wasn't possible. 

There was no one else on the street. Hoseok wasn’t there. The driver wasn’t there. The car was there, and had started spitting orange tufts of flame alongside the smoke. It was just him and this burning car and no one else.

“What the fuck,” Jimin said shakily, hand clenching around his useless phone. 

There was no way Hoseok would’ve abandoned him. There was no way Hoseok could have abandoned him, since Jimin had had his eyes off him for like thirty-five total seconds. Hoseok wasn’t The Flash. They weren’t living in an episode of The X-Files. He had to be here. 

“Hoseokie-hyung!” Jimin stepped off the curb and gave the burning car a wide berth as he circled it, glancing frantically around in search of his friend who’d just vanished into thin fucking air. “Hyung! Jung Hoseok!”

No answer. No movement. No anyone. Just the crackle of flames to keep him company. Jimin turned around slowly in a daze and found his gaze drawn by movement at the end of the street. He watched in open-mouthed disbelief as a black car rolled slowly past, occupied by nothing but flames. It collided with the other burning car with a metallic thud and then they both sat there, spewing flames and smoke into the night.

“What the fuck is going on,” said Jimin, because he needed to hear the sound of his own voice. 

He dug his fingernails into his palms hard enough to leave marks, hoping maybe it would wake him up from what was surely a dream. The pain felt very real, grounding him in his body. Hoseok did not reappear. The cars did not stop burning. There was no waking up happening. 

Jimin’s mind flashed to that woman in the club with a sick lurch. Surely this had to be related. It stretched the limits of credibility that he’d experience two separate weird things in a single night. Surely she must have done this to him, somehow. Cast a spell, cursed him, whatever. Made cars catch on fire and human beings disappear. 

What had she said again? If he wanted to find his soulmate that badly, she’d give him the chance? If he survived. What the hell was that supposed to mean? That he’d only get Hoseok back and have things stop going wrong if he, what, found true love or something? 

A hollow, humorless laugh forced its way up Jimin’s throat. This was insane. This was impossible. Someone must’ve spiked his fucking drink or something.

A deafening crash behind him made the whole street shake. Jimin screamed and threw his arms over his head, whipping around so fast he almost fell. A huge billboard had crashed to the ground halfway down the street, cratering the pavement. Jimin stared at the papered eyes of the cracked ad staring back at him, slowly lowering his arms. 

The silence after that crash was enormous. No one and nothing moved in any of the buildings to come see what that had been. It felt like Jimin was the only person left alive in the world.

Maybe he was.

Jimin shook himself, turned, and started running like he could leave that thought behind. He bolted past the burning cars, heeled boots clicking loudly on the pavement and his breaths roaring in his ears. He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to go.

When he turned onto the next street, he skidded to a stop like he’d slammed into an invisible wall. Every car on this street was on fire. The parked ones lining the curbs and the ones in the lanes, which were somehow still moving. Jimin skittered to the side as a SUV engulfed in a fireball glided past him, executed a perfect lefthand turn, and continued up the street. 

“I’m losing my mind,” whispered Jimin, “I am losing my fucking mind.”

Another crash ripped another scream from him. Jimin jerked around to find that the streetlights on this street had all suddenly given up their will to live and decided to come tumbling down. Jimin watched as streetlight after streetlight fell, lights shattering and metal twisting as they banged off the burning cars. The driving cars got stuck on the obstacles, crashing into each other like crazed bumper cars.

“Actually, fuck this street,” said Jimin, and took off running to find a different one. 

Things did not improve no matter what street he tried. Windows above and beside him exploded as he passed. Neon signs and billboards plummeted out of the sky and crashed to the ground. Car alarms wailed into the night as their owners burned. Several buildings were columns of flame too, smoke and fire smudging out the distant watching stars. Several others collapsed to the ground in a thunderous roar of dust and debris. One street had a sinkhole open up with a shrieking crack, swallowing cars and sidewalk and streetlights like a gaping monster. 

And he didn’t see another living person anywhere. It was just Jimin and the apocalypse.

Jimin had no idea how far he went before he gave up and plopped down on the curb, head in his hands. The car beside him was burning, but at this point that was old news, barely worth his notice. The adrenaline that had gotten him moving had started to ebb, leaving him hollowed out with exhaustion. Fear was a relentless march beneath his breastbone.

What if he never found a way out of this? What if this was just his life now?

Jimin lifted his head and raked his hair back with shaky hands, then dropped them into his lap like bricks. He stared blankly out at the end of the world and thought about how the worst part of all this wasn’t even that the world was apparently ending. It was that he was alone. It felt like the gods had taken his loneliness and warped it into a sick punchline. 

“Okay, stop.” Jimin sucked in a hard breath and clenched his fingers in his lap. “Stop that right now,” he said, in a tone similar to what he used on his kindergarteners when they made poor choices. He rubbed his throbbing temples. “You need to focus. Use your brain, Jimin.”

This had to be related to the creepy woman in the bar who’d clearly cursed him. She’d said that he had to find his soulmate. Jimin chose to forget about the if you survive part, for his own sanity. If the only way he could get out of this was finding his soulmate, then surely that meant it was possible to find his soulmate. And if it was possible, then there had to be a better way to go about it than just… running around like a chicken with its head cut off. 

Jimin turned his head to the side and watched as down the street a bus shelter exploded and a tree toppled over. It made him want to bolt in the opposite direction—and maybe that was what he’d been doing wrong. He’d been letting fear puppet all his actions and choices so far. He needed to remove fear from the steering wheel and make better choices.

If he’d been going away from all the horrors so far, maybe he should try going toward them. Maybe he needed to throw himself into the belly of the beast to find the exit or the off switch or whatever. 

If you survive, whispered the serpent’s coil of that wretched voice in his head. Jimin strangled it and buried its body beneath the floorboards. 

He staggered to his feet and started back the way he’d come. He reached an intersection and glanced to the right just in time to watch every drainage grate explode and shoot geysers of water into the air like fireworks. Water was better than fire, so Jimin grit his teeth and went that way.

He was soaked in seconds, hair and clothes plastered to his skin uncomfortably. Doggedly onward he marched under the deluge until he reached another intersection. To the left the street and sidewalks were bucking up and down like someone aggressively shaking out a blanket. To the right was a park with trees bursting apart like they were being put through an invisible woodchipper. In the interests of not being taken out by flying shrapnel, Jimin picked the rolling pavement. 

That was how he proceeded for some time. Every time he staggered up to a new intersection, he assessed the options and picked whichever one seemed more survivable. He waded through a knee-deep flood, picked his way through an ashy fog, and dodged falling locusts. And still everywhere he went it was just him and the plagues of Egypt. At every new empty street his motivation slipped—and at every street Jimin hoisted it back up again and kept going.

What other choice did he have but to keep going?

He had no concept of time passing. For all he knew maybe it wasn’t, and he was just trapped in an endless loop, pacing in fruitless circles. Maybe he’d died on the way home from the club and this was hell. 

He had no concept of where he was either. Nothing looked familiar when rooftops were caving in and sidewalks were crumbling apart. 

Or it didn’t—until suddenly it did and he realized he was almost back at the club he’d started from. Hope was a desperate stammer in his chest. Surely that was too unlikely to file under coincidence. Maybe back where he began was where he was supposed to end up.

The club, after Jimin avoided several giant rolling boulders like he was in some kind of video game to get there, was a pillar of flame spewing smoke and sparks. Jimin stood outside it for a moment, the heat drying his clothes, and tried not to cry. His boots were hurting his feet. He had a headache the size of a minor country. His mouth tasted like the inside of a shoe. He was so tired laying down on the sidewalk for a nap was singing siren songs at him. And he still didn’t know what the fuck he was doing or if he was any closer to finding his way out of this. 

A dull roar called his attention over his shoulder. The noise belonged to a small tornado working its way determinedly into becoming a large tornado. It was, of course, approaching from up the street, merrily seizing and spinning cars and fallen billboards and debris as it came.

“Of fucking course,” said Jimin, and contemplated sitting down on the curb and letting the tornado take him. 

But when the howling wind got close enough to start yanking at his clothes and rocking him on his feet, his survival instincts overcame his exhaustion. Also, he didn’t want to find out what new horror was birthed when tornado and fire mated. 

Jimin tried to start back the way he’d come, struggling to place each step without getting knocked over by the oncoming tempest. He shielded his eyes with one arm from the grit being spat at him. The tornado was so loud it felt like it was inside his skull. The wind was shoving him back and forth so hard he felt like a ping-pong ball, lurching to and fro helplessly as he tried not to fall. 

No matter how hard he tried to walk away, the dragging force of the tornado kept sucking him back like quicksand. Terror was thunder under his skin. If you survive if you survive if you survive thrashed in his belly like a live creature, all claws and teeth. Jimin wondered desperately if this was it, if this was really how it ended. If anyone would ever even know what happened to him or if he’d just vanish forever, swallowed whole by this nightmare. All alone.

A particularly hard snatch of wind made him stagger and lose his balance. He tripped over what was maybe a curb and stumbled headlong into the wind, arms flailing out wildly to save himself—

—and catching on something thankfully solid that he clung to like a life raft in the tumult. He didn’t think much of what he was holding onto apart from a ragged stab of relief—until the thing he was clinging to started clinging to him back.

Jimin’s eyes popped open in shock. He got a single squint at a man’s face and wild hair before he had to squeeze them shut again. Desperate relief at finding someone left him weak-kneed. Jimin hung onto this man with all his strength, so hard he dared even this tornado to try stealing him away from him. 

The man was clinging to him just as fiercely. Jimin wasn’t sure if the tornado was fading, or if they were just stronger together, but the two of them managed to lurch blindly away from it together. It was even harder to walk while they were basically embracing, but neither of them surrendered their death grip on each other. Jimin found himself burying his face in this man’s neck, sheltering in place from the stinging wind.

They were both surprised when their shoulders collided with a wall. One of Jimin’s hands jumped off the man’s shoulders to clutch at the brick, rough and reassuringly real beneath his palm. He didn’t know where they were, but he figured if they followed this wall they’d eventually come upon a doorway or maybe an alley or street to get away from the tornado.

The wind was still so loud it murdered any words before they even made it out of his throat. Jimin used his grip on the man to tug on him instead, trying to communicate his plan. The man followed his lead without resistance. He kept his arms tight around Jimin, one hand knotted in the back of his jacket, as Jimin felt along the wall and slowly, one unsteady step at a time, guided them hopefully to safety. 

It seemed to take a minor eternity before Jimin’s hand encountered open air instead of brick. The sudden lack of solidity made him stumble, but the man’s grip tightened on him and held him steady. Jimin’s hand blindly found the edge, and then he steered them around the corner. 

The wind didn’t die off, but after a few steps it lightened, easing back enough that Jimin could breathe without feeling like he was about to have his lungs vacuumed out. It no longer felt like he was about to be sucked right out of his shoes. Jimin’s ears were still ringing in the dulled roar, his jaw aching from being clenched for so long. At least he could hear his own thoughts again.

Most importantly, he could finally pry his eyes open and get his first look at the man still holding onto him so securely. His heartbeat scampered around his chest like a frightened rodent. Was this his soulmate?

He was startlingly attractive, even with messy, blowing hair and wide, alarmed eyes. Big doe eyes, round cheeks, sharp jaw, and soft mouth studded with a lip ring. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a leather jacket, and he was knocking it out of the park. 

And as soon as their gazes met, Jimin felt something slot into place in his chest, like a key finding its lock. It was the feeling of being found.

Jimin’s hands clenched in the man’s collar. Not even a tornado would be able to pry this man away from him. “Hi,” he breathed, staring up at him in wonder.

The man stared back at him, his gaze a slow, entranced caress over Jimin’s face. “Hi,” he murmured back, soft and awed.

Jimin let out a shaky, marveling laugh, feeling like he’d just seen a first glimpse of sunlight after an endless night. “I was looking for you.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Me?” He kept looking at Jimin, taking him in like he was committing a private miracle to memory. “I—well, I wasn’t looking for you, I admit. I thought I was alone.”

“Me too,” said Jimin. “I was so scared I was alone.”

The man broke into a smile, so lovely it felt like it transmuted even the air around them into something better and brighter. “I’m glad you found me.”

Jimin snorted. “I think you found me.”

“I’m glad we found each other, then.” The man reached out and gently peeled a strand of hair off Jimin’s cheek. “I’m Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk. Jimin mouthed the name to himself like a spell, like the secret to fixing everything wrong was located somewhere in those syllables. “I’m Jimin.”

Jeongguk’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Hi, Jimin-ssi.” His hands were still on Jimin’s waist, fingers twisted in Jimin’s jacket, holding onto Jimin just as tightly as Jimin was clinging to him. His eyes darted to the side, skittering toward the mouth of the alley and then back to Jimin again. “Um, just out of curiosity, do you know what’s going on and why the world’s ending, or…”

Jimin glanced toward the mouth of the alley too, stomach contracting. Guilt was a series of knots tied in his throat, even though he hadn’t done anything. “Well, that’s—that’s sort of because of me.”

Jeongguk’s eyes widened. He had such big eyes, it made for quite a dramatic event. He didn’t let go of Jimin or lurch away, but he did lean back a bit. “You caused the end of the world?”

Jimin made a face. “I mean, I didn’t cause it—”

“Are you a superhero? Wait, no, that’s backwards. Are you a supervillain?”

“No, no!” Jimin thunked his head back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, fingers clenching in Jeongguk’s lapels. “God, this is going to sound crazy.”

“Jimin-ssi.” Jimin peeked one eye open to look at Jeongguk as he peeled one hand off Jimin to gesture emphatically at the end of the alley. They couldn’t see the tornado anymore, but they sure could still hear it. “Take a look around.” He returned his grip to Jimin. “Whatever you have to say is not going to be the craziest thing I’ve faced tonight.”

Jimin huffed, opening his eyes. “Okay, point.”

Jeongguk smiled crookedly. “So. You were telling me how you’re some kind of all-powerful god or something…”

Jimin thumped him in the chest with one fist, making a face at him. “I’m not. I’m not powerful at all. I’m… cursed.”

Jeongguk blinked. “Cursed.”

“I know how it sounds.”

“It kind of sounds bad.”

“Well, I haven’t been enjoying it, I won’t lie.”

“Me neither.” Jeongguk’s eyes widened. “Wait, if you’re here and you’re cursed, does that mean I’m also cursed?”

Jimin considered that. Maybe Jeongguk wasn’t his soulmate, he was just another unfortunately cursed traveler in this hellworld who’d collided with him like two ships in the night. Or maybe he was Jimin’s soulmate, and that was why Jimin’s curse had seeped out to infect him too. Or maybe Jimin had no fucking clue about anything and he should stop even pretending he did.

“I don’t know.” Jimin blew out a breath. “I have no idea about anything. All I know is that some creepy witch woman cursed me for spilling a drink on her, and then the next thing I knew my car burst into flames, my best friend disappeared, and—” Jimin gestured at the mouth of the alley, which seemed to have become their shorthand for everything going on outside their little bubble of shelter. 

Jeongguk just blinked at him, processing that. “Well,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t spill a drink on anyone.”

Something occurred to Jimin that should have earlier. “Wait, what’s the last thing you remember before all this?”

Jeongguk shrugged. “I was just out with some friends.”

Jimin’s attention snapped upright. “Out? Out where?”

Jeongguk looked slightly sheepish, like he was already regretting his words even before he’d released them. “Well, I don’t know if you’ll know it…”

Jimin decided to spare Jeongguk the awkwardness of confessing he’d been at a gay club to someone he didn’t know. “Florid?”

Jeongguk stared at him. “How did you—” He blinked, catching on, and cast a quick once-over down Jimin’s body, taking in, apparently for the first time, his leather pants and bedazzled crop top, and coming to the accurate (if belated) conclusion. “You too?”

Jimin nodded. He felt his mouth pleat into an acerbic smile. “It’s my birthday.”

Jeongguk’s eyes went round. “Oh. Happy birthday.”

Jimin choked on a laugh. “It really isn’t.”

Jeongguk winced. “Yeah, no, as soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back.”

Jimin cocked his head. “So you were out with friends and then what?”

Jeongguk blinked. “Well, I went to grab my coat and leave, and when I stepped outside, I tripped and almost fell into the street. And when I straightened up, everything was… you know, ending. I turned back to the club and it was on fire, and stuff was falling off the buildings, and no one else was around, even though Yoongi-hyung and Namjoon-hyung had been right behind me. I barely had time to even process all that before that tornado was screaming up the street, so I started to run away from it…” He smiled slightly. “And that’s when I ran into you.”

Jimin stared back at him, his brain wheels spinning and rattling away. If what Jeongguk was saying was right, it meant he’d only just stumbled into this apocalyptic world. It meant Jimin had found him at almost the exact time Jeongguk had shown up to be found. It meant that whatever thread of instinct Jimin had followed to get back to this club had led him right to where he needed to be. 

It meant Jeongguk had to be his soulmate, because otherwise what were the fucking odds?

And it meant that earlier tonight, when Jimin had been desperately trying to dance faster than his loneliness could catch him, all along his soulmate had been right there, in the same room, and he’d had no idea. If not for that wretched witch, Jimin would’ve walked out of the club and never known what he was walking away from. They wouldn’t have met—not tonight, maybe not ever. Maybe if they hadn’t been flung into a collision course tonight, their lives would’ve always remained parallel, never intersecting. Jimin might’ve spent the rest of his life wondering if there was someone out there shaped just right to fit his edges, never knowing how close he’d come.

It was almost enough to make Jimin grateful for that woman and her curse.

Almost.

Now how the hell was he supposed to tell Jeongguk that they were destined to be together by the stars or whatever?

Jimin zoned back in at Jeongguk’s voice. “Jimin-ssi. Hyung?” Jeongguk wrinkled up his nose, which was devastatingly cute. “I guess that’s kind of forward, but ssi feels too formal for, you know, this. And I’m just gonna go ahead and assume hyung, because it’s always hyung in my life.”

Jimin blinked at him and answered that unasked question. “95 liner.”

Jeongguk clicked his tongue. “Yep. Knew it. Hyung. I’m a hyung magnet. I collect them like Pokémon cards.”

Jimin found himself smiling. “Congrats?”

Jeongguk ducked his head on a soft, embarrassed laugh, his ears reddening. If the definition of endearing needed a picture beside it, Jimin would recommend Jeongguk for the job. “Sorry, you don’t care.”

Jimin’s heart twanged like a guitar string breaking. “I didn’t say that.”

Jeongguk eyed him with worry. “I just—you seemed far away for a second there. Are you okay?” He winced. “I mean, like, apart from everything.”

Jimin exhaled a laugh, tipping his head back against the wall and readjusting his grip on Jeongguk’s jacket. “I’m fine, apart from everything. Sorry, I just—” He made a face, still utterly unsure how to broach this topic, and picked a route at random. “Do you believe in fate?”

Jeongguk blinked, but took that left-field shot in stride. “Yeah, I guess.” He sucked his lip ring into his mouth, pulling it between his teeth as his cheeks reddened. “I mean, yeah, I do,” he added, quieter but more certain, like a confession. “Do you?”

Jimin blew out a breath, something like relief gusting through him. “Yeah.” He licked his lips, wrestling vulnerability, like this was an extreme admission. “I didn’t think I did, but I do.”

Jeongguk cocked his head, adorably puppy-like. “Are you saying you think this is fate?” He gestured between their faces with one finger—which Jimin noticed for the first time was tattooed, and promptly had to give himself a firm down girl lecture. “Us being here and meeting like this?”

Jeongguk didn’t sound skeptical or scornful; he simply sounded curious. That gave Jimin the shot of courage he needed to make another admission, inching closer and closer to the truth. “You just showed up here in, uh, whatever alternate reality we’re in. But I’ve been here for hours, I think.”

Jeongguk’s eyes widened, immediately worried. “Really? Shit, hyung, I’m so sorry, that sounds awful.” He leaned back, eyes darting up and down Jimin. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

God, Jeongguk was such a sweetheart. Jimin needed to lock this down for more reasons than one. “No, I’m okay. And, ah, it was shitty, but that wasn’t my point.” Jimin drew in a breath. “I’ve been here for hours, just wandering around, not knowing where I was and trying not to die, until suddenly I made it back to the club right at the moment you got here.” Jimin exhaled hard, looking up at Jeongguk. “I mean, what are the odds, right?”

Jeongguk nodded, eyes wide as he stared at Jimin like he was doing something miraculous. “Right,” he said, soft and almost sacred. “Surely that has to mean something.” He cleared his throat. “Right?”

Jimin bit his lip, toes hanging over the precipice of confession as he teetered between fear and courage. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “So, here’s the thing…”

Jeongguk tilted his head. “What? What thing?” Worry burst like fireworks in his eyes. “Oh, God, what do you know?”

“It’s not bad,” Jimin said hastily. Then he made a face. “Well, I mean, I guess that depends, honestly—”

“Jimin-hyung, you’re freaking me out.” Jeongguk squeezed his waist. “Please stop the lead-up and just say whatever it is.” He offered a slanting smile. “I promise not to burst into tears or run away screaming or whatever you’re thinking.”

“I don’t think you can realistically promise me anything like that when you don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“I’m pretty sure I can safely promise not to run away. I can still hear that tornado out there.” Jeongguk’s smile flashed into a grin. “You’re stuck with me.” His smile pinched into something serious. “So let’s hear it, come on.” He nudged Jimin lightly. “Do your worst. Tell me I have a terminal illness or something.”

Jimin huffed a laugh even against the sick clench of nerves in his belly. “It’s nothing like that.” He nibbled at his bottom lip and made himself speak. “When that witch or whatever cursed me, she told me that—” Jimin made a face, trying to ignore the steady rise of heat in his cheeks and push onward against the drag of embarrassment. “Something about giving me the chance to find my, uh, soulmate if I survived.”

Jeongguk’s head cocked, confusion scribbled over his brow. “Your soulmate? What does that have to do with—” His eyes blew big and wide again as belated realization crashed over him like a tidal wave. He sucked in a sharp, whistling breath, staring at Jimin like he was suddenly brand new to him all over again. “Oh.”

Jimin could feel the heat radiating from his own face. He could probably toast marshmallows on his cheeks right now. “Look,” he said, exhaling hard, “I know the idea of soulmates is kind of silly—”

“It’s not.” Jeongguk donned a blush of his own at his hasty words, but he didn’t take it back. In fact, he cleared his throat and doubled down. “I don’t think it’s silly.” He ducked his head, tugging at his lip ring with his teeth again. “I’ve always believed in soulmates,” he said quietly, not meeting Jimin’s gaze. 

Something coursed through Jimin like a high wind, all thrum and whirl. “Oh.”

Jeongguk swallowed hard and looked up, finding Jimin’s face with visible effort. He licked his lips before hesitantly venturing, “So you think we’re…”

“I don’t know,” admitted Jimin. “But you’re the only person I’ve seen here, and the way we ran into each other feels like—”

“Like fate,” murmured Jeongguk, nodding.

That feeling blew through Jimin again. “Yeah,” he agreed, swallowing.

Neither of them seemed to know where to proceed from there for a moment. Their gazes were a charged tangle between them. They were already so close, but Jimin could almost feel this new connection drawing them even closer without either of them even moving. It was a little terrifying.

Jeongguk cleared his throat, shaking his head in silent marvel. “I mean, if that’s the case, it’s crazy that we were both at the same club tonight and neither of us had any idea.”

Jimin nodded. That almost missed connection was always going to haunt him. The specter of what might never have been. “You could’ve walked right by me and not even noticed.”

Jeongguk shook his head again, this time in firm, immediate rejection. “No, I would’ve noticed you.” He flushed again. “I mean, uh, you’re very…” He poked his tongue into his cheek, gaze scuttling sideways, and let that sentence dangle like a snipped thread.

Jimin was suddenly enjoying himself immensely, watching Jeongguk squirm away from that admission. He raised his brows with a smirk. “Very what?”

“Noticeable,” said Jeongguk, making a face. 

“Oh?” Jimin tipped his head back and glanced up at Jeongguk through his lashes, tightening his grip on his lapels. “Tell me more.”

Jeongguk’s gaze swung back to collide with Jimin. He lifted his brows with an incredulous huff. “Hyung.” He gave him a look. “Be so for real with me. I know you know what you look like.”

Jimin giggled. “Sure I do.” He pouted and fluttered his lashes, utterly shameless, and was rather gratified when Jeongguk looked mildly kicked in the head. “But maybe I want to hear something a little sweeter than just noticeable from you.”

Jeongguk drew in a breath through his nose. His cheeks were still pink, but that didn’t stop him from saying, low and sincere, “You’re gorgeous.” His mouth curled into a smirk as Jimin instantly flushed and glanced away. “How was that?” he asked, brow cocked, because he was a bit of a brat too.

Unfortunately everything about Jeongguk was working extremely well for Jimin. He cleared his throat and said, “Acceptable,” with the last shreds of his dignity. 

“Hm,” said Jeongguk, head tilting as he considered Jimin with dark eyes. “I’ll take that for now, but I’ll do better next time.” He grinned. “I aim to please and I love a challenge, Jimin-hyung. That’s a warning.”

That rolled through Jimin like a minor heatwave. The universe seemed to know what it was doing, because so far Jeongguk seemed perfect for Jimin in every way. “I didn’t see you either,” said Jimin, clearing his throat again. “I mean, I’d remember if I’d seen you too.”

Jeongguk smiled, shyly pleased and boyishly sweet. Jimin wanted to gobble him up with a spoon with a cherry on top. “Well, thank God for the apocalypse, I guess.”

That reminded Jimin of, well, the apocalypse, and brought him thudding back into his shoes. He glanced toward the mouth of the alley, where the tornado was still a distant roar punctuated every now and then with the crash or bang of something else falling apart. It was true now that he and Jeongguk were together, the maelstrom of disasters seemed to be steering clear of them, leaving them alone in their little pocket of safety. Which was great—except that Jimin would much rather there be no disasters to be safe from. As much as he was enjoying getting to know Jeongguk, he’d enjoy it much more without the looming threat of the end of the world. 

Jimin sighed and looked at Jeongguk again, his mood flattening. “I sort of thought, the way she said it, that if I found you, that would just—” He waved one hand. “I don’t know, fix everything, take me—us—home. Put reality back the way it’s supposed to be.” He sighed again, hands flopping to his sides against the brick. “But here we are. I found you, and we’re still stuck here.” The next breath he blew out was edged with frustration. “I don’t get it. If the goal was to find you, and I did, it should’ve worked. I don’t get what the hell else I’m supposed to do.”

Jeongguk bit his lip. “Have you, um, read any fairy tales?”

Jimin blinked at him. “What?”

Jeongguk looked like he was already regretting the words even as he was saying them, cheeks steadily reddening. “You know, like—” He cleared his throat, glancing away. “True love’s kiss?”

Jimin stared at him, a flush washing through him that ended warm and pink in his face. “Oh.” He tried to swallow, but the desert in his mouth made that difficult. He could hear the click of his throat in the silence. Jimin could almost feel something humming in the air between them like they were standing too close to an electrical box. Jimin licked his lips. “You think we should try kissing?”

Jeongguk exhaled through his nose, letting go of Jimin to reach up and run one nervous hand through his hair. He poked his tongue into his cheek and eyed Jimin sideways like looking at him headlong was too dangerous. “I mean, it’s worth a try, right? Maybe the fairy tales are on to something.”

Jimin could hear his own pulse going like a snare drum. He lifted his hands and curled his fingers into Jeongguk’s jacket again. Jeongguk’s gaze flew to his face when Jimin tugged him closer. “You know,” Jimin said softly, “if you want to kiss me, you could just say that.”

“I want to kiss you,” said Jeongguk, without hesitation, and Jimin felt his whole body heat up like someone stuck him on a burner on high. Jeongguk wrinkled up his nose. “I just wish the circumstances were different.”

“Like what?” asked Jimin, curious.

“Well, not the apocalypse, ideally.” Jimin gently whacked him with one hand and Jeongguk flitted into a smile. “I guess I just wish our first kiss could be, um, something special.” He was blushing, but he was also looking at Jimin so intently, refusing to look away. “Romantic.” 

“Oh,” said Jimin, feeling like someone had dropped an anvil on his head.

Jeongguk glanced around, nose wrinkling again. “Not in an alley where people have definitely puked before.”

Jimin laughed, so utterly charmed it felt like Jeongguk must be working magic on him. “Where, then?” Jeongguk blinked at him. Jimin giggled. “Where would you kiss me if you could choose?”

“Definitely on the lips.”

Jimin snorted. “Oh, you think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Jeongguk grinned cheekily. “If you want a different answer, maybe you should ask a different question, hyung.”

Jimin made a show of rolling his eyes. “Where as in a location in the world would you kiss me if you could choose, smartass?”

Jeongguk hummed in the back of his throat, considering. His hands shifted as he thought, sliding around Jimin’s waist and under his jacket. His fingers skimmed the bare skin above Jimin’s waistband, pressing into the small of Jimin’s back and subtly urging Jimin to arch into him. One pinkie started stroking back and forth over Jimin’s skin just above his waistband, a tantalizing caress that was going to drive Jimin mad. 

“I’ve always wanted to kiss someone under the cherry blossoms in Seoul Forest,” admitted Jeongguk, soft and shy. He reached up with one hand and brushed Jimin’s hair back, gaze flickering over his face, warm and wanting. “You’d look so pretty there, with the petals falling in your hair.” Jimin flushed, which made Jeongguk smile. “I’d like to take you there and kiss you until your pretty cheeks and your pretty mouth were as pink as the flowers.”

Jimin had asked the question, but he sure hadn’t been ready for the answer. There was a song starting up underneath his soul that Jimin swore he’d never heard before, and yet he still felt he knew it by heart. Like its melody was in his bones and blood, already memorized by the deepest parts of himself, and all that was needed for him to carry the tune was simply to awaken it within him. 

Jimin croaked like a frog before he could wrangle his voice into performing normally. “It’s a date.”

Jeongguk erupted into the most beautiful smile Jimin had ever seen. “Yeah? Really?”

Jimin nodded. “Yeah. If we get out of this, you can kiss me under as many cherry blossoms as you want.”

“All of them,” Jeongguk said solemnly, eyes bright. “I’m going to kiss you under every flowering tree in this entire city.”

“Well, now, that’s just not realistic. I have a job and a life outside of you, you know.”

Jeongguk giggled, swaying into Jimin with his whole body. Jimin very much loved being pressed between this man and the wall. “To be honest,” he said, biting his lip and glancing at Jimin, “if I’d seen you in that club, those cherry blossoms wouldn’t have stood a chance, because I would’ve kissed you under those lights the second you let me.”

Jimin smiled. “It wouldn’t have taken much for me to let you.” He wound his arms around Jeongguk’s neck, pulling him flush. He was so deliciously warm and solid against him. “I would’ve let you take me to the bathroom too,” he murmured by his ear, fingers slipping into Jeongguk’s hair. 

Jeongguk’s breath hitched even as he shook his head. “I wouldn’t have. Not you.” He tilted his head, nosing through Jimin’s hair and breathing him in. “I would’ve asked to take you home,” he said, low, “so I could take my time with you.”

It was Jimin’s turn for his breathing to lurch. A shiver coursed through him like an electrical current. “I would’ve said yes.”

He felt Jeongguk smile against his ear. “Even on your birthday?”

Jimin had forgotten about that. “Absolutely on my birthday. Are you kidding? You’re the best birthday present a bitch could ask for.”

Jeongguk threw his head back in a laugh, high and bright and musical. The kind of laugh Jimin could fall in love with if you gave him a few weeks’ headstart. Jeongguk was beautiful all the time, but he was even more beautiful when he was happy. Especially when Jimin was the one to make him happy. Jimin wanted to make this man laugh for the rest of his life. He wanted to make making Jeongguk happy his lifetime vocation. 

Jeongguk drifted down from his laughter and just smiled down at Jimin with such naked affection. Jimin felt transformed within that smile, awakened by it. Like a tower that had been standing quiet and dark on a cliff for years, until someone had finally thrown on the lights and revealed that he wasn’t a tower at all, he was a lighthouse. He had been made to shine. All he’d needed was for someone to light him up.

“Are you going to kiss me?” asked Jimin, because if he let Jeongguk keep looking at him like that he was going to slip and ask him to marry him.

Jeongguk bit down on his smile and nodded, lifting a hand to cup Jimin’s cheek. He was noticeably nervous, which was wretchedly endearing. And went along perfectly with the nerves wreaking merry havoc on Jimin’s insides too. 

“You can close your eyes and pretend we’re somewhere special,” murmured Jeongguk, leaning in until their noses brushed.

“I think it’s the person that makes it special, not the place,” whispered Jimin.

“Wow, that’s cheesy.” 

Jimin squawked in outrage and shoved Jeongguk. Jeongguk staggered a step back, laughing, clearly delighted with himself. “I’m not letting you put your mouth anywhere near me if you’re insulting me,” Jimin said in a huff, fighting for his life holding his glare against the smile trying to come out. 

Jeongguk bit his lip and shook his head, hair flopping. “Not an insult.” He gripped Jimin’s waist and stepped closer again, leaning in until he was just a breath away again. “I like cheesy.”

Jimin plumped his lips into a pout, a thrill zinging down his spine when Jeongguk’s gaze dropped to his mouth, heavy with want. With intent. “Kiss me cheesily, then.”

Jeongguk lifted his hands to cup Jimin’s face, leaning in and brushing their noses together again. “I think I’d rather kiss you sweetly.”

Something warm and gold like melted caramel settled in Jimin’s belly. “Now who’s the cheesy one?”

Jeongguk smiled. “Guess we’re meant to be,” he whispered, and kissed Jimin.

His mouth was soft and warm, his lip ring a cold, hard spot against Jimin’s mouth, and Jimin curled his hands around Jeongguk’s wrists and melted into kissing him like cotton candy in the rain. That tornado could’ve swung by and scooped them up and Jimin wouldn’t have noticed a single thing besides Jeongguk kissing him like it was the most important thing he’d ever done. 

When Jeongguk drew back, Jimin needed a second to find the ground under his feet again. “How was that?” asked Jeongguk, licking his lips like he was chasing the taste of Jimin on his mouth.

He actually sounded nervous, like he hadn’t just spun Jimin like a top with a single kiss. Jimin blinked at him, syrupy-slow, and wondered if there was a casual and chill way to say Jeongguk had ruined him for kissing anyone else for the rest of his life. 

He was prevented, or perhaps saved, from having to scrounge up some words by the distant shaking thunder of something falling on the street beyond their sanctuary. Both their heads snapped around as the stars in their eyes snuffed out. Axis-shifting kiss or not, they were still here. Apocalypse central.  

Jeongguk blew out a frustrated breath. “Shit, I really thought that would work.”

Jimin looked at the looming mouth of the alley, and then he looked at Jeongguk, the fine lines of his profile, even when he was frowning. Something bubbled up in his throat that tasted like daring, bright and bold. If they were stuck here together, they might as well make the most of it. The world was a steady crumble into destruction around them. Maybe now was all they’d ever get. Jimin wasn’t going to waste it. 

Jimin wound one hand in Jeongguk’s hair and tugged his head around to face him. “Maybe we should try again.”

Jeongguk blinked, amusement skimming over his mouth. “If you just want to kiss me again, you can just say that.”

“I want to kiss you again,” Jimin said obediently, tugging Jeongguk closer. He already felt caught up in Jeongguk’s gravity again, lost to his orbit. Whatever hummed between them was a force too big for him to resist. 

“Wow, that’s crazy,” whispered Jeongguk, almost against Jimin’s mouth. “Me too.”

“Twinsies,” said Jimin, and then he was the one to kiss Jeongguk this time. 

This time neither of them drew back. The world faded and time melted away, and they kissed on and on and on, like it was the only thing that mattered. This soft, wet meeting of mouths. This fierce but gentle push-and-pull. This sharing breaths and matching rhythms and earning noises. Heat and want passed between their tongues, poured into each other’s mouths and then licked back out of each other. Hands winding in hair and sliding over skin. And a steadily rising urgency like a new pulse that was theirs together, ticking away between them in need and need and need. 

Jeongguk scooped him up like it was nothing, pinning Jimin to the wall without even breaking off kissing him. Jimin wrapped all four limbs around him like a sexy octopus and gave as good as he was getting, grinding against him to taste Jeongguk’s moan on his tongue. His blood was all firelight and frenzy, a scorching rush like a lit match tossed in gasoline. The too-fast thunder of his pulse was making his head swim. Everything inside him was giddy and golden and gloriously good.

And not enough.

“Jeongguk,” gasped Jimin, head tipping back to hit the brick wall as Jeongguk latched onto his neck. “Jeongguk-ah.”

“Fuck,” groaned Jeongguk, “say that again, call me that again, baby.”

Jimin let loose a groan of his own as that baby slammed into him like a frying pan to the face. “Jeongguk-ah.” One hand twisted in Jeongguk’s hair and the other fisted the back of his jacket, desperately grasping for purchase as Jeongguk made him see wheeling meteors with his teeth on his throat. “God, do you want to—”

“Yes, I want to, I want to,” Jeongguk said breathlessly.

Jimin gasped a shaky laugh. “I didn’t even finish asking the question.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jeongguk kissed his way back up to Jimin’s mouth and kissed him so deeply Jimin could feel his toes curling. “If it’s with you, I want it.”

God, how had Jimin gotten this fucking lucky? A sinkhole could’ve opened up right under their feet right now and Jimin would still be singing prayers of gratitude at the heavens for landing Jeongguk between his legs. 

“Touch me,” Jimin gasped into Jeongguk’s mouth, rocking his hips into him needily. “Touch me, please.”

“Anything you want, beautiful,” groaned Jeongguk. 

He adjusted his hold on Jimin so he could slide one hand between them and go for his zipper. A moan winnowed out of Jeongguk as Jimin made a closer introduction between his mouth and Jeongguk’s neck as Jeongguk wrestled to get into his pants. 

Which lasted just long enough for Jimin to leave a single hickey over Jeongguk’s mole before Jeongguk’s hand cupping his erection had Jimin throwing his head back on a moan. He cracked his head against the brick hard enough for stars to pop around the edges of his vision—

—and then he fell out of bed with a thud and woke up on his bedroom floor.

Jimin lay there for a few moments, pained and disoriented, blinking stickily in the morning light falling in gossamer gold streamers through his blinds. His heartbeat was still going full throttle, pounding in his throat like a kicking horse trying to escape, but the rest of him felt slow, mired in molasses. Struggling to find its feet after the rug had been yanked out from under him.

Jimin pushed himself up on his hands, blinking around and processing slowly. His bedroom looked the same as it always did, despite the fact that he couldn’t remember reaching it… last night? Presumably last night. He was wearing his usual sleep attire—giant t-shirt, boxers—that he had no memory of changing into. His phone was on his bedside table, plugged in, even though he couldn’t recall doing it. He could hear the distant murmur of traffic through his open window, like this was a normal Saturday and the world had never ended. 

Like nothing that had happened last night had actually happened. 

Like Jeongguk had never happened.

“No.” Panic was a burst firework in his belly, hitting the back of his throat like bile. “No, it wasn’t just a dream. It wasn’t.” 

Jimin staggered to his feet and ran to his window, yanking the blinds up with a trembling hand. Outside the city of Seoul rumbled on like nothing had ever interrupted its rhythm. Traffic bumped along the street. Pedestrians bobbed along the sidewalks. All the buildings stood tall and proud. The trees were adorned in their autumn colors, casually dripping red and gold leaves below their branches. A tauntingly picturesque blue sky sprawled above with white curlicues of clouds lazing about. Sunshine draped the whole scene in an idyllic glow. It looked like a perfect fall day. It looked like nothing had ever fallen apart and nothing ever would. 

“No,” Jimin said again, shaking his head like one form of rejection wasn’t enough, he needed to double-fist with two at once. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his fists into them, like maybe his eyeballs were the problem. But the world was still fine and dandy when he opened them again. “This can’t be happening,” muttered Jimin, shaking his head again. “It can't have been a dream.”

Could it? No, there was no way. He could still recall the exact feeling of Jeongguk’s hands on him, his lips on his. The sound of his voice, the noise he made when Jimin sucked on his lip ring. The way he smelled of clean laundry. Everything Jeongguk had said to him, everything Jimin had said back. There was no way he could’ve dreamed something that detailed. There was no way. Lack of evidence be-fucking-damned, it could not have been a dream. It had to have happened, all of it: the woman in the club, the car and Hoseok vanishing—

Hoseok.

Jimin whipped around and scrambled for his phone. He waited several eternities as it rang with impatience scratching at his spine. He almost thought Hoseok wasn’t going to answer when the line clicked and Hoseok finally picked up with a groaned, “It’s 9 am, you bitch.”

“What the hell happened last night?” demanded Jimin, fast and urgent. 

He could almost feel Hoseok blinking as his brain came online. “What?” There was some rustling, presumably as Hoseok sat up. “Did you take some head trauma I don’t know about? You didn’t drink that much, Jiminie.”

“I know, just—” Jimin blasted out a breath. “Humor me, please. This is important.”

Hoseok, a hero amongst friends, simply accepted that with a hum. “Well, we met Taehyungie and Seokjin-hyung for pizza, and then—”

“No, after that. When we left the club.”

“Well, damn, girl, be specific. I’m a dance teacher, not a mind reader.”

“Stop plagiarizing Star Trek and focus up.” Jimin sat down on the edge of his bed, phone cradled between his shoulder and ear as he anxiously picked at his cuticles. “What happened after we left the club?”

Hoseok sighed, but he played along. “I went outside first, then you came out and we shared a car home. It dropped me off at home first, and then continued on and I assume dropped you off like five minutes later.” He huffed. “I told you to text me when you got home and you didn’t, by the way.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “My tracking is on for you, hyung.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.” There was more rustling as Hoseok shifted around. “What’s all this about, huh? Did something happen after you dropped me off?” He sounded suddenly worried. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

Jimin weighed those questions, tossing them back and forth from hand to hand as he decided what he wanted to do with them. How he wanted to answer them, hopefully in a way that didn’t make Hoseok call for an involuntary psychiatric hold on him. 

Jimin licked his lips, nerves tap-dancing in his throat. “What if that didn’t happen?”

A small crackly silence as Hoseok processed that. Then, “Okay, sure. I’m walking with you. What if that didn’t happen, then?”

Hoseok was very obviously just humoring him, but since Jimin was about to start sounding even more crazy, he didn’t call him on it. “Do you remember me coming out of the club and telling you I spilled some woman’s drink on her, and then she was really weird and creepy about it?”

“Uh, no. Did you tell me that?”

“Yes,” Jimin said firmly. “I definitely did. You flicked me in the forehead and said you’d gotten rid of all bad vibes.”

Hoseok snorted. “Well, that does sound on brand, but I don’t remember that.”

“Then in the car on the way home, the driver slammed on the brakes and yelled at us to get out because the car was on fire—”

“Whoa.”

“And we jumped out, and I ran to the curb, but when I turned around, you and the driver were gone.”

There was a pause. “Uh, gone how?”

“Gone like vanished into thin air.”

“Okay,” Hoseok said slowly. “Is this the part where I ask if you’re punking me?”

Jimin’s dwindling hopes that Hoseok’s memory would support his crumbled into ash. Whatever had happened, however it had happened, it seemed to have happened to Jimin alone. 

Oh, God, maybe Jeongguk, wherever he was, wouldn’t remember either. That idea was buckshot straight to his chest, all shrapnel and shards. 

Maybe Jimin really had made it all up. 

No, he still refused to believe that. It might not be in this reality, but it wasn’t in his imagination either. It was just somewhere else. Somehow else.

Jimin heaved out a sigh, bracing one elbow on his knee and leaning forward to run a hand through his hair. “I’m not punking you. That’s what happened last night. It’s what I remember. It might not have happened to you, but it happened to me. I don’t know how that works or anything that’s going on, but I know it happened. I know I’m not just making it up.”

Hoseok obviously had quite a few questions and doubts, but he pushed them to the back burner and simply said, “Okay.” He clicked his tongue. “How’d you get home, then?”

“I didn’t.”

“Okay?” Hoseok said again, this time with considerably more confusion.

Jimin sighed and decided he might as well spill the whole tale. “That woman in the club—”

“The one you definitely told me about and I definitely remember.”

“I’m pretty sure she cursed me.”

“Okay, rude.”

“She grabbed my wrist and called me by name.”

“Oh, shit, that’s creepy.”

Jimin swallowed hard. “And then she told me that if I was so lonely and wanted to find my soulmate so bad, she’d give me the chance, if I survived.”

“Girl, what the fuck. Who just says that to people?” Hoseok sucked on his teeth. “Wait, are you saying her curse was the reason I vanished or whatever?”

“It wasn’t just you vanishing. It was a whole apocalypse. Cars on fire, buildings collapsing, streetlights falling down, sinkholes opening, a whole tornado, you name it.”

Hoseok let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Jimin combed his fingers through his hair and stared blankly at the wall, absorbed in memory. It was so clear he felt like he could still smell the acrid ash of burning metal, still feel the heat of the flames. “It was so real, hyung. It’s still so vivid.” He puffed out a breath. “I know you’re thinking I was just dreaming—”

“Damn, I was trying to think it quietly.”

Jimin huffed. “But it wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. You don’t believe me, but—”

“I believe you,” said Hoseok. “I don’t get it at all, but I believe you. You’re not the kind of person who makes up stuff like this. If you say it happened, then it happened.” Jimin didn’t even need to see him to know he was shrugging. “I mean, who am I to say differently? The world is weird, Jiminie. I’m sure weirder shit has happened than you, like, falling into some alternate apocalypse reality due to a curse.”

Relief coursed through Jimin so powerfully he almost swayed with the force of it. He was so fucking grateful for Hoseok he could’ve kissed him on the mouth. “Name one weirder thing.”

“That guy I went on a date with who didn’t like kimchi,” Hoseok said promptly. “Also, wearing outside shoes in the house just, like, as a concept. I can’t believe there are people we share this world with who live like that.”

Jimin spilled into a laugh. He’d never yet found a mood bad enough or crisis severe enough that Hoseok couldn’t scrape a laugh out of him somehow. “Point. For both.”

“Thank you.”

Jimin let silence settle between them like newly fallen snow. He stared blankly at the wall again, and this time what he was picturing was a someone with doe eyes and a bunny smile. The ache inside him felt like it was going to turn him inside out and suck him in like a black hole. It felt impossible that he could be missing someone he maybe hadn’t even really met. Someone he’d known for a sum total of about half an hour. But he was. 

“I found him, by the way,” Jimin said quietly.

“What?”

Jimin exhaled slowly. “My soulmate.” He let the word roll around his mouth a little, swishing the taste of it behind his teeth. Getting used to the weight of it on his tongue. “The witch said I’d find him if I survived, and I did.”

“Oh,” Hoseok said quietly.

Jimin flopped back onto his bed on his back and stared up at the ceiling. “His name is Jeongguk. He’s younger than me, but he’s taller.” A smile toyed with Jimin’s mouth. “The biggest, prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. Outrageously, ridiculously hot, to be honest.” That ache in his middle metastasized, something it didn’t feel like he could survive. “He’s sweet and funny and gorgeous and he kissed me like—God, I’ve never had a kiss like that before.” Jimin blew out a breath. “And then I woke up here,” he finished quietly, “and he was gone.”

“Shit,” muttered Hoseok, a thud of a word, like he’d finally recognized what kind of loss Jimin was speaking from. “I’m so sorry, Jiminie.”

“It had to be real,” said Jimin, and he could hear the ragged chord of his own desperation. “I can’t have dreamed him. I can still—I remember exactly what he smelled like, hyung. I could pick his voice out in a crowded room. He was so real. I didn’t make him up, I know I didn’t.”

“I believe you,” Hoseok said again. 

“I can’t believe he’s just gone,” said Jimin, gut feeling hollowed out. “I had him for like thirty fucking minutes in the middle of a fake apocalypse, and then I lost him. God, that can’t have been it. I couldn’t live with it if that was all I got.”

“You really feel this strongly for him after just a little while, huh?”

Jimin nodded immediately. “Yeah. It’s—I don’t know how to describe it, but I’ve never felt a connection right away like that before.” He turned his head, pinning the phone between his ear and the mattress, and stared over at his open doorway without really seeing it. “You know, I think I always liked the idea of soulmates more than I really believed in them. But as soon as Jeongguk found me, it was like—it just felt so right.” Jimin huffed a laugh. “I mean, I kind of knew it had to be him, because he was literally the only person I’d seen in hours, but still, I felt it too. I knew it in my soul.”

Hoseok hummed. “If it’s meant to be, surely you’ll find him again. I refuse to believe the universe would be so cruel as to dangle him in front of you and then snatch him away forever.”

“I don’t think the universe is particularly invested in my love life.”

“Sounds to me like the universe went out of its way to bring you two together, actually.”

“It really did feel like fate.” Jimin licked his lips. “He was at Florid last night too.”

“Shit, really? At the same time?”

Jimin hummed an affirmative. “It’s crazy, right? We were in the same place and didn’t even know it. If not for that witch cursing me, we might never have met.”

“I’ll put a nice thank you note in the envelope of anthrax I’m planning to send her.”

Jimin laughed. “Appreciate it.”

“What are friends for?”

Jimin let his laugh funnel down into a sigh, spirits flattening. “I need to find him again, hyung. I can’t lose him before I even really had him.” He rolled back over onto his back with a mighty sigh, frustration boiling in his belly. “I hate that there isn’t even anything I can do about it. I just have to sit back and let fate happen or not, and that makes me crazy.”

“Historically not something you excel at, yes.”

“I don’t even know if he’d even remember me, or anything that happened. Maybe I really am crazy and it’s all in my head.”

“A very sexy head, though.”

Jimin choked on a laugh. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it, hot stuff.” Hoseok exhaled hard. “Look, babe, I say be optimistic.”

Jimin made a face. “You always say that.”

“Optimism never hurts,” Hoseok said brightly. “If you found him once, surely you’ll find him again. All of that happening last night has to mean something.”

“You’re like three seconds away from ‘everything happens for a reason’-ing me, and then I’ll have to throw tomatoes at you.”

Hoseok clicked his tongue. “Hatred doesn’t become you.”

Jimin rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his mattress. “Please tell me something you can’t find on a mug,” he said, muffled.

“If he doesn’t remember you when you find him, then you can easily seduce him again, because you’re the hottest person ever.”

Jimin snorted. “Okay, I guess that qualifies.”

Hoseok hummed. “If you know he likes Florid, then maybe you could go there every day until you run into—”

A cartoon lightbulb pinged above Jimin’s head. Jimin sat bolt upright. “Oh my God, that’s it,” he said breathlessly.

Hoseok’s tinny voice floated up from the phone Jimin had dropped onto the bed. “What? What’s it?”

“Florid.” Jimin scooped up his phone and hopped off the bed, already searching for real clothes. “I have to go back there, because that’s where we met.”

“You said you didn’t know he was there at the same—”

“No,” said Jimin, shaking his head. “In the apocalypse world.” Jimin waved one hand. “Dimension, whatever.” He dug out the first pair of jeans on the top of the drawer and threw them on the bed. “I was running around all over Seoul, but I eventually ended up back outside the club—at the exact same time that Jeongguk fell out of this world, dimension, whatever, into that one.”

“Oh,” said Hoseok, audibly nodding. “So if Florid was where you ran into each other there, then maybe it’ll be the same here. I get it.”

Jimin flung a striped sweater onto the bed beside the jeans, excitement rattling his ribcage. “And if he does remember, maybe he’ll think to go there too.”

“So… are you just going to go stand outside the club at 10 am on a Saturday and hope for the best?”

Well, it sounded foolish when Hoseok put it like that. Probably because it was. But Jimin had a good feeling about this, and whether that good feeling was sourced from delusion or not, it at least gave him something to do besides lay around and yearn. It’s not like he’d had any productive plans for today anyway. Might as well burn a few hours on soulmate hunting.

“Yep,” Jimin said baldly.

Hoseok popped his lips. “Okay, cool. I’ll meet you there.”

Jimin burst out laughing. “What, are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I’m invested now.”

“You tagging along is going to ruin the mood if this actually works.”

There was a lot of rustling down the line as Hoseok got up and hunted for clothes of his own. “I’ll sit in the cafe across the street and spectate.”

“Voyeur.”

“Exhibitionist,” retorted Hoseok. “You can pretend you don’t know me if that helps.”

“I’m not participating in your roleplaying kink.”

Hoseok bubbled into his sunshine champagne laugh. “Come on, I’ll buy you coffee.”

Jimin couldn’t stop a smile from spreading. The idea of having Hoseok there for moral support was too tempting to pass up, to be honest. “Fine. I’ll meet you there in an hour, and do not be late.”

“I have never been late to a single thing ever in my life,” said Hoseok’s Type-A ass. “See you in an hour for our quest for true love.”

“What’s this our?” demanded Jimin. “It’s my soulmate, and you’re just there.” But Hoseok had already hung up on him.

Jimin huffed and dropped his phone to the bed. He snatched up his clothes and started getting ready in earnest. It was a beautiful Saturday morning in autumn, and Jimin had a soulmate to find. Again. 

~~~

“So this is where the magic happened, huh,” remarked Hoseok, nibbling on the straw of his iced americano and eyeing the alley beside Florid with interest. “Classy.”

Jimin resisted the urge to kick him solely because he was wearing his pointed Chelsea boots and he didn’t need Hoseok’s bruised shin on his conscience. Halfway through getting ready he’d axed the jeans and sweater and reversed course in a panic. Now he was standing here, iced americano of his own in hand and nerves in his belly, in a green turtleneck and black trousers under his long black trench coat, feeling ill but looking elegant. 

“It looked different when the world was ending,” said Jimin. He sipped his coffee, despite the fact that the last thing his rampaging nerves needed right now was caffeine dumped over them.

Hoseok gave him a look. He was even more of a fashionista than Jimin, so he’d rocked up to this event looking ready for a street style shoot. Baggy jeans covered in graffiti, a giant brown-and-black striped sweater, puffy green scarf, green beanie, and a big fuzzy white purse bumping against one hip. Sunglasses on his face, Nikes on his feet. He looked like the coolest person in the world—which was true, as long as you didn’t see him run screaming from a moth or listen to him talk about the spreadsheet he’d made for his five-year plan. 

“Did it?” Hoseok asked dubiously.

“No,” admitted Jimin, making a face. “But I was busy worrying about dying and looking at Jeongguk, so I wasn’t paying attention to it.”

At the mention of Jeongguk’s name, Hoseok flung a look around the sidewalk at the few other people meandering about, even though he had no idea what he looked like. “We should’ve brought a sign with his name,” said Hoseok. “Like those chauffeurs do to pick up rich people in airports.”

“Go to your corner,” said Jimin, pointing at the coffee shop they’d snagged their coffees from. 

“Boo, you whore.” Hoseok hopped closer and plastered a kiss to Jimin’s cheek. He stepped back and offered a brilliant smile, gripping Jimin by both shoulders and squeezing reassuringly. “I love you. I’m rooting for you. I’ll be watching you in a supportive and not a creepy way.” He reached out and fluffed Jimin’s bangs, humming in satisfaction. “You’re gorgeous and perfect and anyone on this street would be lucky to fall in love with you. If your Jeongguk doesn’t show up by noon, let’s go out for lunch and get stupid day drunk.”

Jimin’s chest ballooned with fondness. He felt like he could start levitating with the force of his love for his best friend. “Sold. Don’t hate me if I say I hope it doesn’t come to that, though.”

Hoseok raised one hand to flash his crossed fingers. “Me too, because I’m a good person who loves you.”

“Love me from across the street.”

Hoseok laughed and waved his iced coffee at him, ice rattling as he sauntered off. Jimin watched him until the coffee shop door swallowed him up, and then he glanced around, suddenly feeling very alone and foolish. 

Jimin shifted to the edge of the sidewalk so he was out of the way, hovering under a tree and trying not to look strange. He leaned against the tree and sipped his coffee, anxiety jitterbugging under his skin. Florid lurked nearby, a dark huddle, signs dead and doors bolted, slumbering until tonight. There was a steady flow of people drifting by, not paying him any attention. Jimin wondered how long he could loiter here before someone made him move on. 

He made steady progress through his coffee as he people-watched. This was a trendy area, all clubs and new restaurants and fashionable shops, drawing a younger crowd. Stylish clothes, lots of tattoos and piercings—but none of the ones Jimin was looking for. The more time passed, the more his excitement drained, leaving him hollowed out with disappointment and doubt. This had felt like a much better idea before he was doing it. Standing here, all he could feel was the absurdity of it. 

To give himself something to do, he pulled out his phone and started working on his lesson plans for next week. He might as well accomplish something useful while he was wasting his time. He glanced up every few minutes and looked around, but none of the people were ever the one he was looking for. 

Maybe Hoseok had been right the first time and Jimin would have to come back here when the club was open. He might have to dedicate his weekends to trolling Florid for a certain man for the foreseeable future. The idea did not fill him with excitement. But the only other option was that he just live his life like nothing had happened and hope fate intervened on his behalf, which he liked even less. 

But maybe that was what it would take. Maybe fate resented him attempting to grasp the steering wheel and do its job for it. Maybe he was being punished for the hubris of thinking he got to have any say or control in any of this. Jimin did not share Hoseok’s optimism that the universe naturally bent toward justice or kindness. It seemed much more likely to him that—

“Um, sorry. Excuse me?”

Everything in Jimin skidded to a halt. He’d know that voice anywhere, even without the tornado roaring in the background. He looked up slowly, not daring to breathe or blink, in case this was a mirage that would vanish if he frightened it off. 

But it wasn’t. Jeongguk was standing in front of him, looking nervous and uncertain but otherwise exactly as Jimin remembered him. Jimin drank down the sight of him like water after a lifetime of being parched. He was wearing black joggers with a black shirt under a dark denim jacket and black boots, with a pair of clear-rimmed glasses that made him even more attractive. 

He could’ve been wearing a clown suit for all Jimin cared. He was real, and he was here, and he’d approached Jimin himself, which surely had to mean he remembered him too. That he’d come here looking for him too, just as desperate to find him. 

Jeongguk nervously nibbled at his lip ring and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry to bother you, but—okay, this is going to sound weird, but do you—”

“Jeongguk,” breathed Jimin, like it was magic, like it was the holiest word he knew, and practically threw himself into Jeongguk’s arms. 

Jeongguk caught him easily, wrapping Jimin up in a tight embrace with a relieved sigh that could’ve powered a few windmills. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed, and buried his face in Jimin’s hair and held onto him like he never intended to let go again. “God, that was the longest thirty seconds of my life. I was so scared you wouldn’t know me.”

Jimin tucked his face into Jeongguk’s neck and breathed him in, both familiar and new. He was so relieved his knees almost felt shaky with it. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he said softly. “I just couldn’t think of what else to do.”

Jeongguk set his chin on the top of Jimin’s head and hummed, his throat vibrating against Jimin’s skull. “Where else would I go? This is where we’re supposed to meet.”

A smile was all over Jimin’s face before he could help it, tucked into the crook of Jeongguk’s neck like a secret. A smile just for him, all his. “When you put it like that, I feel silly for ever doubting you’d be here.”

“I was scared too,” Jeongguk admitted quietly, confessing into Jimin’s hair. 

Jimin made himself draw back, because they couldn’t just keep standing here embracing on the sidewalk without looking weird. Jeongguk let him go, straightening up and smiling down at him. One hand slid down Jimin’s arm until he could take Jimin’s hand in his, keeping a hold on him, reassuring for both of them. He let himself indulge in a long interval of just looking at Jeongguk, basking in the reality of him. Jeongguk seemed happy simply to look back. He still looked at Jimin like he found him miraculous. Jimin hoped he never stopped looking at him like that. 

“Hi,” said Jimin at last, swinging their joined hands between them. “Again.”

Jeongguk giggled, eyes crinkling fondly. “Hi again back.” His gaze glided up and down Jimin, warm and appreciative. Jimin liked that Jeongguk wore everything he was feeling and thinking so openly, without guile or shame. “You look really good.”

Jimin flushed, his insides preening. “Thank you, it’s for you.” He gestured at his head with a crooked smile. “I wanted to look less like an ashy drowned rat this time.”

Jeongguk laughed even as he shook his head, bottom lip catching between his teeth, his eyes all for Jimin. “You were gorgeous last night and you’re gorgeous now.” 

Jimin was going to set some kind of world record for biggest and longest smile ever. “Quit being so perfect. Quick, tell me a flaw right now.”

Jeongguk blinked. “I’m a horrible perfectionist.”

Jimin made a face. “No, that one won’t work. I am too.”

Jeongguk huffed a laugh, cocking his head and stepping closer to study Jimin. “What are you trying to do here, hyung?” He raised his brows, but his gaze was serious. “Trying to talk yourself out of this?”

Jimin shook his head. “No. I came here as soon as I woke up because I had to try to find you again. But…” He bit his lip. “I mean, define this, Jeongguk-ah.”

Jeongguk smiled and stepped even closer. He kept ahold of Jimin’s hand, using his other hand to tip Jimin’s chin back with one gentle finger. He leaned in, breath fanning over Jimin’s face, but hovered just shy of kissing him. Jimin’s mouth ached for it like a bruise. “This,” Jeongguk said softly, the warm curl of the word against Jimin’s lips feeling like a kiss all its own. 

Jeongguk leaned back again, finger dropping, and Jimin’s eyelids fluttered back open. Jeongguk smiled at him, gently rubbing one thumb over Jimin’s knuckles. “I don’t think it needs a definition right now. It’s something. We both feel it. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

It was so easy to shed the waterlogged weight of nerves when Jeongguk looked at him like that. It was so easy to believe that this steady thrum between them, this warm roseate thread connecting them, was solid enough to serve as a foundation. A starting point. Next stop the rest of their lives. 

“I’ve never felt like this with anyone before,” Jimin admitted quietly.

“Me neither.” Jeongguk drew in a deep breath. “Look, I guess I’ll come right out and say I want to try this, whatever it looks like.” He ran a hand through his hair, making a face. “I know we had a weird as fuck beginning that I’m still not entirely sure I understand, but I know what I feel. I want to see where this goes.” He swallowed, that attractive confidence ebbing into sudden endearing nerves. “Do you?”

Jimin’s smile spilled out of his soul like an overflowing teacup. He nodded immediately, and was rewarded by the dazzling flash of Jeongguk’s beautiful smile. “Of course.”

Jimin stepped forward, intent on kissing Jeongguk again, but Jeongguk stepped back, putting one hand up. He let go of Jimin’s hand to reach into his bag. Jimin frowned, somewhere between stung and bewildered. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, just—” Jeongguk emerged with what looked like a sketchbook, looking up with rosy cheeks as he flipped through it. “I was ready to fidget out of my skin on the train ride over here, and then I had this idea—” He landed on the page he wanted and paused, biting his lip nervously before turning the sketchbook and handing it to Jimin. “Um, happy birthday.”

Jimin looked down to find a drawing of what was obviously a cherry blossom tree, even in pencil. It was simple but beautiful, but it was the meaning of the gesture that made Jimin felt like a bug splattering on a speeding windshield. Everything inside him came to life. Jimin felt like a nature documentary on fast forward: flowers blossoming in a blink, sunrises bursting open, constellations spinning, aurora borealis’ dancing in gossamer colors. If it hadn’t been so early, Jimin would’ve called it falling in love.

But maybe it was, in a way. Maybe falling in love wasn’t a single fall, a single moment. Maybe it was a series of steps descended. A series of moments strung together like beads on a string. Maybe this was simply the first step. The first moment. Where he started falling in love—and if he got really, really lucky, maybe he’d never stop. A lifetime falling in love with Jeongguk sure sounded like a dream come true.

Jimin kind of thought he was really, really lucky.

Jimin finally looked up at Jeongguk, who looked agonizingly nervous. “You drew this?” he asked, a little shaky.

Jeongguk nodded jerkily, nibbling at his lip ring. “Yeah, I’m a graphic designer, so…”

Jimin drew a breath, everything inside him soaring arias. “You drew this for me?”

Jeongguk eased into a smile as he nodded again. “Yeah, I…” He flushed. “Well, I made you a lot of promises about cherry blossoms, but it didn’t occur to me until this morning—duh—that it’s the complete wrong season for them.” He looked so chagrined that Jimin had to giggle. Jeongguk’s smile widened. He tapped one finger over his drawing. “So I figured this could serve as a stand-in until spring comes and then I can kiss you under some real ones.” He flushed again. “I mean, if you’d like.”

The fact that Jeongguk was already planning that far into their future made the sun sing inside Jimin’s belly. “I don’t care about real ones.” He held up the drawing. “This is my favourite.” He looked down at it again, utterly enchanted. This was the single most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him. “Can I keep this?”

“Only if you keep me with it.”

Jimin burst out laughing, stumbling forward into Jeongguk’s chest with the force of it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly, shaking under Jeongguk’s steadying arm around his waist. “That was just so cheesy, oh my God.”

Jeongguk had started laughing too, sweet and lovely. “I know. Even as I said it, I could taste the cheese.” He caught Jimin’s chin in one hand and tilted his head back so he could see him, his gaze leaving a trail of constellations over Jimin’s face. “Did it work, though?”

Jimin bit his lip and nodded. “Lucky for you, I’m a sucker for cheese.”

“I sure am lucky,” agreed Jeongguk, so seriously that Jimin felt himself blush. 

Jeongguk reached out and closed his fingers around the sketchbook, gently tugging it from Jimin’s hand. He held it above their heads like a poor man’s umbrella, drawing turned downward so when Jimin looked up he could see his cherry blossoms. Better than any real ones, because they were his. 

When he looked back down at Jeongguk, Jeongguk was smiling, somewhere between sincere and awkward. “Too cheesy?”

Jimin shook his head. He looped his arms around Jeongguk’s neck, leaning his weight into him and feeling Jeongguk’s free arm wrap around his waist. “Jeongguk-ah.”

“God, I think the way you say that is becoming a kink for me,” muttered Jeongguk. 

Jimin giggled. He went up on his tiptoes and tapped one finger against his cherry blossoms, then looked down again. “If you want cheesy, then here it goes.” He leaned in, lips close to Jeongguk’s ear. “I’m going to frame this and hang it above my bed, so you can kiss me under the cherry blossoms every morning and every night.” Jimin leaned back to look at him, one hand combing through Jeongguk’s hair. “Okay?”

Jeongguk looked like Jimin had run him over with a truck. “Yeah, deal,” he said breathlessly, and pulled Jimin into a kiss like he could not wait one single second longer.

Across the street, to be remembered awkwardly later, Hoseok had his phone out, documenting the moment and squealing in a way that had several people eyeing him sideways. And somewhere in the city of Seoul, forgotten about, a witch with green eyes felt a little ping in her magic, and smiled, and carried on with her day.

Some people got cars or rings or trips for their birthdays.

Jimin got a soulmate.