The arena is alive. Lightsticks glow like stars in the darkness, the roar of the crowd rattling through your bones. You’ve never felt energy like this—tens of thousands of voices screaming for the same seven men. BTS.
You clutch your ARMY bomb to your chest as the first notes of Epiphany begin. The lights dim, and Jin steps onto the stage. His white suit shimmers under the spotlight, soft brown eyes scanning the sea of fans like he’s searching for someone.
You laugh at yourself—he’s not searching for you. But the thought still sends a little thrill through your stomach.
“I’m the one I should love…” His voice wraps around the crowd, warm and raw, and your breath catches. A heat spreads across your arm.
You glance down.
A faint, glowing mark is etching itself across your skin, curling letters in perfect Hangul. You stare, wide-eyed, as the words finish forming. They’re Jin’s lyrics, word for word.
The one I should love is in the mirror.
Your heart stutters.
“No,” you whisper under the music. “No, no, no, this isn’t—”
The mark pulses, glowing faintly in rhythm with his voice. You tug your sleeve down quickly, panic mixing with awe. Soulmate marks are rare enough, but lyrics? During a concert? And from him?
It has to be a coincidence. A trick of the lights. That’s what you tell yourself as tears prick your eyes, overwhelmed by the song, the crowd, the impossible warmth on your arm.
But when Jin looks toward your section, when his gaze seems to linger for a heartbeat too long, the mark burns hot against your skin.
---
Later, as the concert ends and the boys take their final bow, you clap until your hands ache. Your sleeve is still tugged down tight.
“Thank you, ARMY,” Namjoon’s voice rumbles over the mic, his English steady. “Tonight was unforgettable. You give us strength. We love you.”
The crowd screams back, but you feel something else beneath the noise—a quiet pull in your chest, as though invisible strings are tugging you closer to the stage.
And then, for just a second, you swear you see Jungkook glance at the crowd with wide eyes, like he felt it too.
---
Walking out of the venue with thousands of other fans, you try to convince yourself you imagined everything. Soulmate stories are fairytales, rumors. Idols aren’t supposed to have them, and if they do, they’re hidden away.
But when you roll up your sleeve under a streetlight, the words are still there, glowing softly against your skin.
And no matter how much you try to look away, you can’t.
