-ˏˋ YOONSEOK | FAVORITES ˎˊ-

It Hits You Like Lighting

Author/ jiminpetals
Word Count/ 1.4K
http://archiveofourown.org/works/13244097
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At the undeniably horrible age of sixteen, your soulmark appears. Said mark are the first words your soulmate will speak to you on your first encounter after you've received the mark.

Jung Hoseok knows that people who have 'Hey' written permanently on their skin are kind of, sort of, really fucked, but he would have that over his soulmark any day.

His soulmark, in the ugliest font anyone could have mustered, says 'Fuck you, man!' in alarmingly large letters. Perhaps Hoseok would have found it not as bothersome if it was stuck to his stomach, or inner thigh, or the underside of his foot—anywhere out of sight, really—but Jung Hoseok isn't known to have been gifted with various amount of luck.

No. His soulmark is on his wrist.

During winter, this is no problem at all. The now twenty-three-year-old gets cold easily, and gets by wearing a lot of sweaters. Hell, he even wears sweaters with thumb holes when he feels particularly ashamed or when he has a freaking job interview.

The manager of the store he had applied to had looked down at his wrist and immediately deemed him 'unsuited'. He argued that she must have a soulmark as well, maybe less vulgar than his, but a soulmark nonetheless. At his bold tone, she irritably showed him hers, which read 'Hey, sweetums'. Hoseok quickly asked if she is currently together with her soulmate, and she answered yes.

Hoseok quickly deemed her unsuited.

He's tried his best to hide his mark with other creative techniques, but they ended up taking too much effort or it was obvious he was trying to hide something.

Once, at sixteen-and-a-half, someone he had seen in the school halls a few times had quietly come to him and asked if he was okay. Hoseok, being a natural bubble of joy, had frowned in confusion at the stranger's apparent thoughtfullness over nothing. Did he look bad that day? He thought he looked fine.

"No, I, er," he started, "I just always see you pulling down your sweater and . . . I don't know, saw you wearing band-aids . . . on your wrist? I'm so sorry, honestly, I mean, I don't mean to pry but, yeah, um . . . It'll get better? It's not the solution to your problems, okay? . . . Maybe see someone?" She mumbled the last few words, but Hoseok caught them easily. What he didn't catch just as easy, was what she was saying exactly. At first, he was quite sure the girl was talking about his mark, but at the end, the words kind of came together to a whole new set of meaning.

"Um," Hoseok said awkwardly, taking off the band-aid to the point where only the word 'man!' was visible. "It's not what you think, I swear. My soulmark is a bit of a pest, so I try to hide it." She looked relieved. He was petrified.

After that day, the band-aids never saw the light of day again.

He thinks that now, maybe, things are a little easier. He just graduated from college, and now has a job at a dance studio not too far from his home. His crew, of course, had pried on his personal life the first day they all came together, and they all agreed—Hoseok excluded—to show each other their soulmark.

Most of them said the most basic of words. One of them, however, had 'You're honestly the most beautiful human being I have ever seen' in loopy letters pasted onto the inside of their arm. Hoseok thought it was cute, and they seemed to dig it.

They had all asked for Hoseok's eagerly, but he had declined. But, literally the next time they'd practiced together, he'd forgotten all about his mark and left it open and bare for the world to see.

"That's honestly hilarious," said Park Jimin that day, looking back and forth between 'Holy shit, are you okay?' and 'Fuck you, man!'. "Like, I'm shit scared about mine. It's pretty obvious I have to sacrifice some sort of safety for me and my soulmate to meet."

And Jimin had been right. A few days before one of their big performances, Jimin got hit by a biker, who had jumped off their deathly vehicle to curse, then ask Jimin if he was okay. So, the next dance practice Jimin came in with a sprained ankle and a boyfriend.

Hoseok is absolutely ecstatic for his friend, yes, but he's internally incredibly bummed he hasn't found his yet.

He watches Taehyung pick Jimin up from practice, and he also has to watch Seokjin and Namjoon kiss every five seconds when the older of the two visits the Namseok apartment.

He doesn't say it often—he doesn't enjoy boosting Seokjin's already enlarged ego—but he's jealous of them. Seokjin met Namjoon when Namjoon had just turned sixteen, and have ever since been together and it stings. But only sometimes.

For instance, it doesn't sting when he hears their giggles from the opposite side of the wall. It doesn't sting when they're helping each other in the kitchen and it defenitely doesn't sting when they're cuddled up the couch together while Hoseok sits on the cold floor. Nope. Definitely doesn't sting.

What does sting, though, is hot liquid seeping through your shirt and instantly burning your chest. Or, at least, Hoseok imagines it stinging.

He'd been walking towards the nearest coffee shop, waited not-so-patiently in line and then quickly elbowed his way through the crowd to exit said shop. But in all his hurried glory, he didn't realize there was a guy wanting to enter whilst he exited. He collided with the body of the bloke at once and Hoseok, who doesn't believe in lids, spilled the entire content of his hot chocolate on the stranger's shirt.

The bloke's mouth opens wide, splashing and thrashing his arms to get the liquid off his body. Taking a closer look, the guy looks absolutely exhausted, his blue hair doing nothing to compliment his ghostly skin. The boy grumbles something under his breath before he finally makes eye contact with the ever-so-shocked Hoseok when he exclaims the words that Hoseok had always wanted to hear. But not right now.

"Fuck you, man!" The guy grunts under his breath, holding the bottom of his shirt to stop it from sticking to his chest.

Hoseok puts one hand on his hip while pointing an accusing finger in the stranger's face. "OH! SO YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER WHO GAVE ME THE WORST FUCKING SOULMARK EVER! WELL, GUESS WHAT? I WILL NEVER LET THIS GO. THERE IS NOTHING WORSE THAN HAVING THE WORDS 'Fuck you, man!' PERMANENTLY MARKED ON YOUR SKIN!" Hoseok is panting, his finger kind of wavering in the air.

The guy's face deadpans, then lets out a bitter laugh. "Imagine having that fucking essay written on you in caps-lock."

Hoseok's open mouth closes. Then he looks at the boy funnily. "No way," he says.

The stranger pinches the bridge of his nose in what Hoseok guesses is exasperation. "Give me your jacket."

Hoseok frowns, pulling his black bomber jacket closer to his chest even though it's really hot outside. "You want to see the mark, right?" the stranger continues, making nonchalant grabby hands towards the jacket, "my shirt's fucked up, and I'm not gonna walk around half naked."

"Right, right," Hoseok mumbles as if he doesn't quite believe it. He slowly takes off his jacket and holds it up for the stranger to take. Said stranger apparently knows no form of shame when he pulls the black t-shirt over his head. He quickly takes the jacket from Hoseok and slips it on.

Hoseok tries not to stare. He fails.

The guy holds the jacket in place, but it reveals Hoseok's 'essay' on his left ribcage. The guy zips the jacket all the way up and leaves Hoseok gazing at the black material.

"Like, really?" The boy says, "you couldn't have gone for 'I'm sorry I just burned you alive'?"

Hoseok laughs awkwardly. "That sounds a little scary."

The stranger laughs, too, then shrugs. "Maybe. This was really embarrassing to explain, though."

Hoseok nods. "Ditto."

The stranger extends his hand for Hoseok to take. "I'm Yoongi."

Hoseok smiles. "Hoseok."

So now Yoongi picks Hoseok up after training, they giggle in Hoseok's bedroom for Namjoon to hear, help each other in the kitchen, and make Namjoon sit on the floor.