FUCK YOU - [ JIKOOK ]
In which you have the first sentence your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your shoulder, Jimin’s being “Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh”.
Even though Jungkook doesn’t have as bad luck as Jimin does, he isn’t completely satisfied with his “Fuck you” tattoo either.
Jimin had been only three when his mother had told him about soulmates for the first time. He could remember it like it happened just yesterday. That was how clear the memory was.
“Jimin,” she’d said, sitting him down on his bed with an intense look in her eyes. “In your life, you will meet one person who is unlike anyone else. You’ll feel a pull towards them - the first time you lock eyes, you will feel like you’re suddenly whole again, after feeling like you’ve been missing something, no, someone your whole life.
You’ll know them when you meet, but if you ever doubt yourself, a tattoo will appear on your shoulder when you turn five. The first words they’ll ever say to you will be carved into your skin until the day your soulmate says them to you, the very day you’ll first talk to each other.”
Here, she smiled. Like she was remembering something amazing, something special. “And when you meet them, Jimin, don’t you ever let them go. If you lose them, you will feel broken again, and you will lose your will to live and die. Don’t you ever let them go.”
Jimin had thought that the first words his soulmate would say to him would be beautiful and poetic, that the words he would get would be something he could treasure.
Boy, was he wrong.
On his fifth birthday, his whole family gathered around the little boy. On the precise time he’d been born, his shoulder had started to bloom with a numbing pain, just like he’d been told multiple times before.
It took ten minutes - twenty, tops - until the feeling had finally started to fade. That was when he got the courage to glance at the tattoo resting on his collarbone.
“Mom, what’s a boner?” He had asked, as innocent as a lamb, after reading the sentence. She’d gasped harshly, as had most of his relatives, then took a look at his shoulder.
Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh.
At the time, he had no idea what a ‘morning boner’ was, but as the seasons changed and the years passed, he found out exactly what it meant.
And Jimin started to wish that soulmates didn’t exist, so badly that he almost believed it.
Because no matter how hard he tried to lie to himself, the truth was that he had the tattoo on his shoulder, and it would never change. And honestly, Jimin couldn’t help hating his soulmate just a bit for it.
Jimin pulled the oversized black and white striped shirt over his head and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The shirt left quite a bit of shoulder exposed, and he sighed as he traced a finger over the words. The black letters looked harsh on Jimin’s tan skin, and it made him cringe.
He’d gotten used to the tattoo over the years, but his friends hadn’t. Because of his (stupid) soulmate, he’d become the butt of fifty too many jokes, and, whenever his friends laughed, he wanted to break the nose of whoever would be brash enough to say this.
Jimin had sworn, when he’d been seventeen and incredibly annoyed after a particularly harsh (but slightly funny) joke, that the first thing he’d say to his soulmate when he met them, no matter who they were, would be a big “fuck you”.
That was what he thought about as he squeezed a generous amount of thick foundation on his fingers and started to spread it on his tattoo. His friends were bad enough; he didn’t need any strangers seeing it at today’s party, which was being hosted but the richest and most arrogant brat on the whole campus. Probably the whole freaking world.
Jimin didn’t know the guy - hell, he hadn’t even talked to him - but he already didn’t like him. He was handsome and rich, and he definitely knew it. Jimin only had agreed to go to the stupid thing because his best friend, Hoseok, had convinced him to. In fact, Hoseok wanted Jimin to go with him so he could hook him up with Yoongi, Jimin’s other best friend. Not an exciting prospect, honestly.
“Jimin, come on! We’re going to be late!” Hoseok yelled through the bathroom door, banging on the wood with heavy fists. It was ten o’clock in the evening, and Hoseok was eager to meet with Yoongi, who would (hopefully) be his date for the night.
“Shut up, I’m coming,” Jimin mumbled, putting the foundation away when his tattoo was covered up the way it was supposed to be. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, glaring. Hoseok knew he hated being rushed, and his roommate gave him an innocent smile.
Hoseok was dressed in black skinny jeans and a plain white top, a blazer and sneakers thrown on for good measure. Very billionaire-playboy-chilling-with-a-glass-of-scotch.
“Woah, you look good”, he complimented him, and Jimin’s glare turned into a smile. He’d parted his hair to reveal his forehead, and even though he wasn’t the most confident person, he felt good about the way he looked for once.
“Now, can we go?” Hoseok pleaded, with big doe eyes for effect, and Jimin sighed.
“Fine, let’s get this over with,” he mumbled, grabbing a pair of black boots. Hoseok watched him pull them on, and Jimin muttered, “Calm down,” just when he was pulled out the door.
“Oh my God, I’m so nervous, I think I’m going to puke. I think I look green, do I look green?”
Jimin rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. Hoseok had been rambling for the past half hour, while they walked to the mansion where the party was supposed to be.
“You’ll be just fine, don’t worry. He might seem a bit cold, but I swear he’s all rainbows and unicorns inside,” Jimin said, doing his best to pry his best friend’s claws off his shirt (it was a gift, after all). He snickered when Hoseok kept muttering, ‘oh my God,’ as they arrived. The house was a mansion, almost as grand as Gatsby’s. What else would you expect from a rich brat?
As they made their way to the front door, Jimin started to look around. Yoongi had promised to be here; he owed Jimin a favor, which was why he had agreed to be Hoseok’s date for tonight. Otherwise he probably would’ve just stayed home, writing music in the almost-dark as usual (Yoongi’s dream was to be a famous rapper).
When Jimin finally spotted him, lounging near a wall with a stereotypical red solo cup in his hand, he grabbed Hoseok’s hand and started making his way towards the dark-haired man. Hopefully, he wouldn’t move before they got there.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, that’s Yoongi right there, oh my God, he looks so good”, Hoseok repeated the words like they were the only thing keeping him alive. It was a good thing the music was so loud, otherwise Yoongi would’ve heard. Hoseok was right, Jimin admitted to himself. Yoongi was dressed in all black, with a snapback pulled over his eyes, like in all of his rap videos.
Jimin pushed Hoseok towards Yoongi, who had noticed them and was now standing up straight. Jimin winked and gave Hoseok a thumbs up before he melted into the crowd.
He didn’t need to be a third wheel for the whole night. No, he’d much rather spend his time with some good ol’ shots of strong, liver-killing alcohol. Jimin wasn’t someone who drank often, but his choices were a) be sober and painfully alone or b) be alone and roaring drunk.
Not a hard choice, really.
He found his way to the alcohol and poured himself six shots with a smile on his face. Now that’s what we are talking about. He downed his first shot after he found himself a place to sit (he wasn’t planning on being in any condition to stand for much longer). From his spot, he could see almost everyone in the giant room. His eyes skipped over people until he saw someone he really didn’t want to.
The host of the party. None other than Jeon Jungkook himself.
Jimin scoffed. He was leaning back on the couch, girls and guys surrounding him with a girl in a silvery-blue dress on his lap. Jeon threw his head back in laughter.
He downed the second shot the moment he saw that stupid rich brat sucking faces with another student (wasn’t he Namjoon?). He was nowhere near drunk enough to see that. Another shot disappeared, burning its way down his throat.
A weird feeling bubbled in his chest as he watched the two suck each other’s souls out. He couldn’t quite give the emotion a name, but it felt a lot like… jealousy? No fucking way. Jimin almost laughed out loud at his thoughts, downing a fourth shot. They didn’t even know each other.
The rest of the night was a blur, but he was fairly certain he had ended up drinking way more than six shots. It resulted in some awkward interactions with other students, who were nearly as drunk as him, and of course, he had blacked out on the mansion’s floor before the party had even finished. He could’ve sworn he had seen Yoongi and Hoseok get along well. Of course, if your definition of getting along was kissing rather shyly in a secret corner.
Jungkook saw the boy in the striped shirt the moment he’d walked in.
His silver hair that reflected the light perfectly, his plump lips that he bit when he tried not to laugh - every single thing about him seemed to draw him in. He’d come with someone who looked incredibly nervous, was that his boyfriend? His eyebrows furrowed, ever so slightly, and he shook his head. Why did he care? It was none of his business.
Still, his gaze followed him (wasn’t his name Park Jimin, or something?) intently as he navigated his way through the people in the party, until they reached a guy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere than here. The silver-haired male pushed his friend - something Jungkook had just realized - towards the guy who had been leaning on the wall. He was short, like Jimin.
Jungkook watched Jimin slip into the crowd, the two boys left looking awkwardly at each other. He rolled his eyes. The two clearly liked each other; what was so hard about talking to each other and actually sharing a conversation instead of awkward, yearning glances?
Jungkook tried to find Jimin, but it was like he’d disappeared into thin air. Had he left? A weird feeling of desperation flushed through the Jungkook as he moved to sit on the couch, people crowding to sit around him. He spotted Jimin a few minutes after, sitting alone with a tray of shots in front of him. Jungkook watched him drink shot after shot, and grinned at the cute way he scrunched up his nose after every single one.
Time to move on.
Jungkook turned towards the group he was sitting with, mostly to Namjoon, who sat right next to him. Namjoon was good-looking, he couldn’t deny that, but why didn’t his dimples make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Why didn’t his smile make his stomach flip like Jimin’s smile did? Would Namjoon’s lips make Jungkook feel the way he felt when he saw Jimin?
That was what went through his mind as he leaned towards the platinum-haired male and captured their lips in a kiss that Jungkook found anything but passionate. He could taste alcohol in Namjoon’s mouth, and it most definitely didn’t make butterflies fly around his insides.
He felt like throwing up when he finally pulled away. That was their first and last kiss, Jungkook decided right then and there.
He bolted up from his seat and headed towards the bar - because alcohol was exactly what he needed to drown his feelings.
All Jungkook could remember after that was downing way too much whiskey, keeping his hands to himself way too little, and getting way, way too drunk.
Jimin let out a groan as he forced his eyes open, then let out another when he screwed them shut again. The sun was high up already, and the room was annoyingly, incredibly bright.
There was an ogre in his head, kicking his brain and making everything tremble as revenge for last night. He almost wished he’d stayed at the dorms, cuddling into a fuzzy blanket while reading a good book. But the feeling of being carefree, being completely weightless, was worth the headache. And the nausea.
Jimin shifted to his side. There was something warm and soft, and he burrowed into that soft something, letting out a content sigh. That soft something smelled really nice, pine and cologne and something else, and he breathed in deeply. After a few minutes of being comfortable, he heard a rumbly voice rasp entirely too close to his ear.
“Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh,” the person groaned. The way his voice scraped around the edges made heat flood in his chest, like slipping into a warm blanket.
Jimin whined and nuzzled his face into the soft material, mumbling a small “fuck you,” as he did. A few seconds later, the soft something, or someone disappeared, and he hit his head on the cold, hard floor.
His headache split his head in half.
“Ow! What the fuck?” He yelped, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the tiniest hint of a pout on his lips. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he jumped, nearly six feet in the air.
Jeon Jungkook was sitting in front of him, all messy dark hair and eyes that sparkled in the sun. Jimin’s heart jumped into overdrive.
“What did you just say to me?” Jungkook questioned, leaning forward ever so slightly, which made Jimin lean backward ever so slightly.
“Um, ‘fuck you’?” Jimin suggested carefully, playing with his hands and looking at his lap.
“Oh my God,” Jungkook mumbled. Jimin’s eyes turned into saucers when he started to take his shirt off.
“W-What do you think you’re doing?” he stuttered, failing miserably at trying to sound annoyed. Moments later, a sigh slipped past his lips at the image of Jungkook shirtless, the sun hitting his skin like he was a god.
And no, it wasn’t because of Jungkook’s toned chest or abs, not even his arms or beautiful golden skin, but because of the tattoo on his shoulder. Exactly where Jimin’s was. Exactly where the soulmate tattoo was supposed to be.
“Are you kidding me?” Jimin snickered, his nervousness vanishing. He traced a finger over the words, curling black on golden skin, and nearly smiled when he felt Jungkook shiver. “Does that mean you actually just said ‘excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh’?”
Jungkook’s cheeks turned rosy, the prettiest shade of pink Jimin had ever seen, and he looked down on his lap when he nodded. For once, not the arrogant, spoilt brat. “Sorry about that,” he said, “it must’ve not been a very nice thing to have on your shoulder.”
But Jimin didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about any of that, anymore.
He had finally found his soulmate, his missing piece, and my God, was he beautiful.
“You stupid, rich brat,” Jimin smiled, carefully leaning towards Jungkook. His lips curved into a soft smile, headache long forgotten.
“You stupid shortie,” Jungkook muttered just before their lips met. It was like Sunday afternoons, warm and comforting, but there was a layer of passion, just underneath.
And Jimin felt a hole he never knew he had disappear.
(A/N) Ahhhhh the end! Such a fluffy oneshot i LOVE JIKOOK OK