#barcode au

Looking at the line ahead of us, I can’t help but agree with her. If I had known that there would only be one scanner at the entrance of the concert, I would have found some way to sneak in. Now it’s much too late for that.

BTS doesn’t mess around when it comes to security.

“Do you think they make the boys scan in?” I wonder aloud, watching as an official looking person appears with what I hope is another barcode scanner in tow. 

“I don’t know...do you think they even want them to find their soulmate right now? That would probably put a damper on their career, don’t you think?” She gets up on her tippy toes, mimicking the vast majority of the crowd as they wait to see if it is indeed another scanner. 

When the man at the front begins to divide people into two separate lines to utilize both scanners, a round of cheers erupt in the crowd. 

“Finally!”

“I was scared they were going to start the concert without us.”

“How would they even start the concert? All the fans would be outside waiting to get scanned.”

“Yeah, there’d only be like six people in the venue.”

“Oh to be those six people.”

I chuckle at the conversations I overhear, rolling my eyes. “Oooh, look! We’re moving!”

My friend and I leap forward, suddenly feeling like the line is moving much quicker now. “You’ve got your ticket, right?”

I nod. “Right here.”

To add to our joy, a third scanner is set up. Soon the lines are flowing as they should be, people hardly glancing at the scanner as they slide their wrist below it, eager to get inside. 

I hop on my toes as my friend goes ahead, getting the ok from the staff member with hawk-like eyes. They wave me forward, and I grin at my friend as I swipe my wrist under. 

“Thank y-” I chirp, but a hand on my arm stops me mid sentence. 

“Wait here, please.”

I blink at them, my heart stopping. “What?”

“Your barcode jammed the system,” the staff member explains, unplugging the scanner and a round of groans going through the crowd. “Come with me, I’ll get your barcode properly scanned and lead you to your seat.”

“Can my friend come with me?” I ask in a small voice. The staff member gives me a long look, a flicker of stress behind their eyes. 

“I’ll lead you to your seat as soon as I finish, please tell your friend to go ahead without you.”

It’s the look of stress that stops me from pressing the matter, and I wave at my friend who gives me a wave back, looking confused. I shrug, following the staff member. 

What I assumed would be a quick walk to find another scanner turns out to be a jaunt through the entire stadium, weaving in and out of hallways that are bustling with staff members and makeup artists.

The worker that stole me away is currently speaking quietly into a walkie-talkie, using strange phrases and words that make no sense to me. My heart pounds as I wonder if I’m somehow in trouble, and I begin to wrack my brain for what I did wrong. 

“Wait right here, please.” The staff member doesn’t even wait to see if I’ll obey before heading off into a closed room.

Leaning against the wall and keeping my eyes down as I feel the stares of all the other workers, I pray that this will be over quickly. I’m sure my friend is worried about me and the concert is supposed to be starting soon.

I swear, if I miss even one song I’m going to lose my mind. 

The minutes tick by, the halls growing more and more frantic. I’ve started keeping count of all the times people pass me, and I’m nearly to 75 when I feel a light tap on my shoulder.

I turn, expecting to see the same worker as before but gasp as I see Sejin instead.

“Sorry to startle you,” he says. “Would you mind coming inside for a moment?”

Unable to say a word, I simply nod and follow him to the room where the worker disappeared. As I enter, I find that I’m unable to continue moving. Frozen in the doorway, I stare at Sejin as though he’s my only hope.

“I...I don’t think I should be in here.”

“On the contrary,” laughs Taehyung from where he’s lounging on the couch. “This is exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

All seven members of BTS are looking at me from where they’re sitting in various positions around the room. It looks like they were in a last minute run-through of the concert, they’re completely decked out and ready to perform. 

So why...?

“Come in, please,” Sejin says, shooting Taehyung a sharp look. “This won’t take long.”

It’s like swimming through concrete trying to walk inside the room, but when I remember that they have a concert to put on in like fifteen minutes I pick up the pace. Sejin closes the door behind me, offering me a seat just outside the circle. 

“Am I in trouble?” I ask, sitting down and keeping my eyes on Sejin. I feel like I might pass out if I look anywhere else. 

Sejin gives me a soft smile, understanding my worry. “No, absolutely not. Are you feeling alright? Do you need anything? Water...snacks?”

I frown. “...no. No, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

Everyone chuckles at my question, making my cheeks burn. I look down at my shoes, praying that I’ll wake up from this strange dream soon. 

“Jiminie, you said that you wanted to explain.” Namjoon is quick to get everyone back on track, a hush falling over the room. 

Jimin, who’s sitting three people down from me, sits on the edge of the couch. I peek up at him, another blush taking over my features. 

His cheeks are rosy as well as he purses his lips, looking completely unsure of himself. “Right.” He looks around the room as though searching for a prop or something before his eyes land on my exposed wrist. 

His fingers are shaking as he struggles to unbutton his cuffs, j-hope helping him when he can’t quite get it. 

“I have this barcode...” he mumbles, rolling his sleeve up until it’s hugging his elbow. Twisting, he extends his wrist out, showing me his barcode. “Look familiar?”

I blink, staring at his barcode for a long moment. Most barcodes look similar, some only varying in thickness or number by a small amount. But as I see Jimin’s barcode, deep down I know.

I’ve been looking at the same barcode on my own wrist my entire life. 

My mouth grows dry the longer I look at his barcode, refusing to look him in the eyes. “Is it...?”

A quick glance at his face shows me that Jimin has wide, hopeful eyes. It’s enough to make me sit up straighter, that look going through me like a bolt of lightning. 

“Yes.”

My mouth is ajar as I go back and forth from his barcode to my own, not quite believing my eyes. “Are you sure? They could just look really similar...the staff said I jammed the system,” I offer a little helplessly. “So we shouldn’t just jump to conclusions here.”

The boys share an impressed look, Jimin scratching the back of his neck before getting up off the couch. “Where’s that scanner?” He asks, Sejin appearing with a scanner in hand.

“You’ve got five minutes,” Sejin says. “Everyone else go gather up.”

I watch in horror as the other members get up and begin to file out of the room, bidding me farewell.

“We’ll see you later,” Namjoon says. “Jimin, five minutes.”

“I know.”

Jungkook gives me a sheepish wave. “It was nice meeting you. Enjoy the concert.”

Right. There’s still a concert.

When the room is empty of everyone except for the two of us, Jimin clutches the scanner in hand and walks over to me. 

“I...” He pauses, looking like he’s the one that just got thrown into a room with his idol. “May I?”

He gestures to my hand, and it takes me a moment to understand what he wants. For some reason my brain keep short-circuiting every time I look at him and his soft gaze.

“Oh, yeah,” I mumble, holding out my hand and flipping it so he can scan the barcode.

“Look,” he says, sitting beside me and showing me the screen. Scanning my barcode, I gasp as I see what it says.

Match: Park Jimin (red alert)

The words blink up at me, daring me to believe them. Jimin sits quietly beside me, waiting for me to say something.

Watching the blinking screen, a giggle escapes me. Jimin freezes, unsure of what to do. 

“What’s so funny?” He asks, sounding a little offended. I shake my head, pointing at the screen. 

“This. I mean, what?” I look at Jimin, grinning. “I literally thought I was in major trouble because earlier I said that I should have just found a way to sneak in without having to wait to get scanned. I seriously thought that I was going to get fined or something!”

Jimin’s concerned expression morphs into a smiling one, and he joins in on the laughter.

“Well, surprise!” He waves the scanner in the air. 

I can’t stop shaking my head, still in disbelief. Sighing, I look at the clock on the wall.

“Don’t you have a concert or something?”

At that exact moment someone knocks on the door, and Jimin jumps up. Extending his hand to me, I stand as well, marveling at the feel of his hand in mine. 

“I’ll see you after?”

I grin. “I’ll think about it.”

masterlist

In our world, we are all born with barcodes on our wrists - to show that we are and always will be property of our government. At the moment of birth, the numbers read as a line of nine zeros, and they change as we age to show our likes, dislikes, and moods. For some of us, they also show our darkest secret, in the form of a single red star. Let me explain.

Barcodes all look pretty similar, even though everyone’s is unique to them; straight black lines marked into the skin, with nine numbers underneath. There is normally a small space before the numbers, but not on everyone. Sometimes, that little gap is filled with a small red star. To have the red star means that you are forever marked as a glitch in the system, as someone, something, that went wrong. The Marked Ones, as they’re known to be called, spend the rest of their lives hiding their barcodes, afraid of what people would say if they found out.

That’s how I’ve lived my life, too. Nobody other than my family and my doctors have ever seen my barcode, and I fully intend to keep it that way. Some people get angry when I don’t show them, some ask why. Some plead, swear never to tell anyone what my secret is, and some try to guess. I always say the same thing;

“I won’t show you. It’s my barcode, and it’s my choice. I expected you of all people would understand.”

That usually shuts them up. Usually.

One person has never really stopped asking. He dropped the subject for a little while, when I asked him to, but I know he’s curious. I know he’s just trying to show that he cares. He’s my best friend, after all, that’s what best friends do. They care about you. But I’m still afraid. I don’t want him to leave me - Mitchell’s pretty much the only friend I’ve got.

“Daniel… Danny,” he’ll say, so quietly that I can barely hear him, “why won’t you show me? What’s so bad that I can’t know?”

I think he’s guessed it already - no, I know he has - but I still don’t want to show him. I just can’t risk losing him. But even now, while he’s sitting beside me, I can feel his hand on my arm, as if he can somehow read my barcode through my sweatband. It’s practically his default position. I know he can’t read it - you need skin to skin contact to do that - but it’s still making me uncomfortable. I pull my hand away and cross my arms, and it’s only then that I realise there are tears in his eyes.

“What?”

“Please. Danny, please. It’s like you don’t trust me.”

“I do trust you, Mitch,” I say quietly. “I just don’t like showing people.”

“But I’m not people, I’m your best friend,” he says softly, and his hand twitches like he wants to reach out for me, but he doesn’t. “You’ve seen mine, you know everything about me. I feel like you’re shutting me out, and I just want to understand why. I’ve known you for years, Danny, but I don’t know you.”

Now I’m close to tears as well. I wish he didn’t have that effect on me, but I can’t help it. He means the world to me and I don’t want to keep him out - but I just don’t see what other choice I have.

“I want to tell you. I do, I just can’t. You’d hate me.”

“Look, we both have secrets. I want to change that,” he says, and I look up.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been a while since you saw my code. Things have changed a bit,” he explains quietly, and I immediately think the worst. ‘He’s dying,’ I think. ‘He hates me, and he’s dying, and-’ “Not in a bad way.”

“Then what’s changed?”

“Show me.”

I don’t know why he’s so bothered. He can get to know me without seeing it, can’t he? What’s the big deal? Sure, he knows I’ve got a secret, everyone knows it on some level, but why is he so intent on knowing it? But, I have to admit, I’m curious. Too curious. I guess that’s why he’s my best friend - we’re so alike. We’re not the type of people who let things go easily. I take a deep breath, turn to face him again, and hold out my arm.

“Just… promise me you won’t hate me?”

“I promise,” he says gently, taking my hand in his as he pushes the sweatband up my arm. I want to pull away, like I always do, but I stay as still as I can. My hand is shaking. When he sees my numbers, I hear a sharp intake of breath, and then there is a beat of silence. He says nothing, but his face says enough. I suppose I should have said this earlier; if you have the red star, it means that you have tried to end your life on at least one occasion. For me, it was a long time ago now.

“I knew it. You hate me,” I say, my voice barely audible, and I pull my arm away. I can feel the tears coming, so I turn away from him again and cross my arms over my chest, trying to ground myself before it gets too bad. The one thing I could never deal with well is rejection, and Mitchell’s is the worst kind. My chest feels tight, and I breathe slowly through my nose, trying not to gasp for breath.

The next thing I know, he’s in front of me again. He takes my face in his hands and stares me straight in the eyes. Mitchell has the kind of eyes that haunt you, make you feel like you’re on the spot, and I’ve never felt uncomfortable under his gaze before now. Then again, I’ve never seen just how damn blue his eyes are before. I’ve never been this close. Close up like this, they’re breathtaking. Gentle hues of blue twisted with sharp contrasts of green. They’re unusual, sure, but they’re gorgeous.

“I could never hate you, Danny. It’s, uh, quite the opposite really,” he says slowly, like he’s choosing his words with the utmost care. That alone is enough to make me nervous. Mitchell’s usually pretty careless, the reckless one, so to see him being so careful is strange.

“Mitch, what d’you-” I don’t get to finish my sentence.

“I think I love you.”

My heart stops in my chest. Before I can register what’s happening, I can feel his lips on mine and I don’t know who kissed who, but I don’t even care. His hand is tight on my wrist, but not painfully, and the fingers of his other hand are threading through my hair. I hold on to his t-shirt, pulling him closer. I didn’t know how much I wanted this, wanted him, until right this second when it hit me upside the head and started making me dizzy.

With his hand on my wrist, I know he’s reading everything about me. For the first time, my thoughts and memories are racing through his head. I grab his wrist, right over his barcode, and let his thoughts flood my mind. Things I’d seen a million times and things which were completely new swirled around but, before I can get a good look, everything fades into black. I can’t feel him near me anymore, and it takes me a moment to register that he’s pulled away. As my eyes open properly, I see him standing slightly away from me, his head in his hands.

He saw it, I know he saw it. The worst day of my life - the day it almost ended.

“Mitch, please. Let me explain.”

“Why would you do that?” He asks, his voice small and disjointed, and I realise that there are tears in his eyes.

“You saw why,” I say quietly, “but I’m okay now. It’s never going to happen again. I promise.” I mean it. I’ve been ‘okay’ for a while now. I’m hanging on by a thread, but now I have a feeling that he could be the one to pull me back. “Mitchell?”

When he turns around, I barely get a second to look at him before I’m being swept off my feet in a bone-crushing hug.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” The forcefulness of his sentence is kind of diminished by the fact he’s mumbling into my neck, but I don’t care. I don’t care that my feet aren’t touching the floor anymore and I don’t care that the air is being squashed out of my lungs because he’s still here.

Despite how much I needed it, how much Mitchell needed it, the comfort of the hug wears off, and more nerve wracking thoughts creep in.

“What does this mean, now?” I mumble into his shirt, and he holds me tighter, as if I’m going to disappear if he lets me go. I can feel him trembling a little, which I’ve never felt before, and it scares me. But I know what's wrong this time.

People are almost obsessed with the notion of soul mates - a person whose own unique barcode 'completes' your own, because their black fills in the spaces between yours, and vice versa. I’ve never really believed in it myself, finding the notion just a little bit too cliché. Mitchell, on the other hand, has always believed. I think it was a comfort thing for him, that somehow there was somebody out there who was perfect for him.

I don’t need to see his thoughts to know what’s running through his head as he takes my hand again. He takes a deep breath, lining up the first bar of his code on the edge of mine, and slowly rolls his wrist flush against mine, watching all the time. He didn’t need to, not really, as, when he finally closes his hand around my forearm, a sharp jolt of electricity wizzes up my arm and down my spine.

“I thought it wasn’t…” It wasn’t true; it was just a fairy tale, a story created to give people hope in a bleak world.

“I know. Looks like you were wrong, for once. That doesn’t happen often,” Mitch jokes, but with his wrist against mine still I can feel how fast his his heart is racing. It’s so strong that I feel like he could pull away and I’d still be able to feel it against my skin. I’m never going to forget that feeling; the feeling that something that was meant to be had happened, that that racing pulse was always supposed to lie against mine.

“Yeah. I guess I was.”