#linked series

CHAPTER 23

"So, he basically proposed to you? In his kitchen? Out of nowhere?" Taehyung asks, for the second time already. He looks at you from across the table, his long fingers absentmindedly playing with the straw of his vanilla frappuccino. The drink is so cold, the cup keeps collecting drops of condensed water, sparkling like gemstones in the coffee shop's artificial lighting. You watch them make their way to the table top as you respond to your brother's inquiry without meeting his curious glance. 

"Yes," you repeat your answer. "Yoon asked me to marry him." 

"And you –?" He questioningly raises a brow. 

"I freaked. I panicked. I literally ran away. I wasn't even wearing shoes. I still have blisters." 

"Wow," Taehyung snickers. "I'm impressed, y/n. Your setting new standards. This is just a little over the top, even for yourself."

"I know," you whimper as you slide down in your seat and lean forward, placing your forehead on the table, your blushing face now hidden by a messy curtain of hair. "I'm mortified, Tae. How can I ever face him again?"

"I don't know. How long has it been since you last saw him?"

"Two days." 

"Two days? And you haven't talked since, well, your highly dignified exit?"  

"No. No word,“ you state, sitting back up again. 

"And why did you say he proposed to you? Just like that?" 

"It wasn't for no reason," you sigh as you sit back up. "He got a letter. From the Ministry of Family Planning. A Final Notice. Because he didn't finalize the Link. Which is basically my fault. But it seems they're holding him responsible for it. So, I don't know. We either have to link or get married or something. Which is why he proposed, sort of."

"Wow. Okay." 

"What's that supposed to mean? I know that expression, Taehyung. You're judging me right now."

"Well, of course, I am. I mean, you're soulmates," he scoffs. "I really don't get what's so difficult about this, y/n. He's your soulmate, and his love for you goes even beyond the Link. I can tell. And you have feelings for him, too, obviously. And deep ones at that, I'd say. So, what more does it require for you to say 'Yes' and let things follow their natural flow?" 

"If only things were that easy," you grumble, more to yourself, as you withdraw your hands into the sleeves of your sweater. Yoon's sweater, actually. His signature scent still inhabits the heavy fabric. You can feel your insides twist at the thought of him, the memory of his warmth, his embrace. 

"Why must you always make things unnecessarily difficult for yourself?" Taehyung shakes his head in apparent frustration. "Why complicate this matter when it's actually so easy, the most natural thing of all? Just give in and link with him already. Go to him and do it, right now." 

"I can't." 

"What? That's bullshit." 

"No. It's not, Tae. It's a fact. He wouldn't allow it. Yoon wants us to be real. A real couple, with real feelings. He wanted me to prove to him that I could do it without the Link. That I would still stay. And I got that. I respected that. And messed up. You know, part of me still hoped every single day for him to just tell me his full name and get it over with. Because I was scared, Tae. Really fucking scared. And now it's too late." 

There it is again. That tremor in your voice and hands, the flutter of your heart. Merely thinking about Yoon and the drastic turn your last meeting took towards its end instills sheer terror into each and every fiber of your being. Taehyung must have noticed because one of his hands instinctively reaches out to cover yours, its warmness grounding, making it a little easier for you to breathe. 

"Scared of what, y/n?" he asks, the sound of his deep voice, low and tender, a welcome distraction from the noise inside and around you.  

You made the right choice in seeking out your brother, you now realize. Once more he proves to be the steady rock you learned to hold onto whenever the storm within threatened to overwhelm you. Your bastion of calm. A kindred soul wise beyond its age. Taehyung understands. He always does. Because the two of you aren't all that different. Now you see that you were wrong to have avoided him for these past few days. Taehyung wouldn't have judged you. He never does. Does he?

"You can tell me, y/n. What were you so afraid of if it wasn't the Link itself?" 

“I was scared of the way he makes me feel, Tae,“ you eventually admit. 

"Of growing too attached, too dependent. Too fond of him. Of being hurt. Of being left. Of being without him," you barely manage to croak out, struggling to blink back tears. "You know, Yoon makes me feel whole. He makes it so easy for me to let loose, to actually be myself around him, around other people. He makes me feel safe and vulnerable at the same time. And he makes me forget the pain, the sadness, my fears. When I'm with him. But the second I'm not, it all comes crashing down on me, and I get scared. What if he leaves me? For good? What if things don't work out in the end? Or if he, you know – Like my dad. If he –"

"Dies?" 

"Yes. What the hell am I supposed to do then? How will I live? Once I let him in for good, once he's in there –" You point to your heart. "How will I survive and who will I be after he's gone?" 

"I don't know. Nobody ever does." 

"Right. And it's fucking scary." 

"Of course it is." Taehyung's calloused thumb keeps on rubbing the back of your hand while he talks, his expression serious. "But ... Have you told him all this? Have you told Yoon about the way you feel for him? About your fears? Because, knowing you, I have a feeling you didn't." 

"Of course I didn't." 

"See, that's your first mistake. If you feel like that about a person, you need to tell them, y/n. Communication is key. You could be feeling a hell of a lot better right now if you had talked things over with him instead of me. And instead of just, you know, running, like you always do." 

"Yeah, I know I screwed up, okay?" You pull back your hand to playfully punch Taehyung in the ribs. "It just happened so quickly. All I heard were the words 'Marriage' and 'Link' and 'Children' and I freaked. Hell, I don't even know if I want children yet. After what happened with my parents – I don't know if I could risk putting my child through something similar." 

With a defeated groan, you let your head drop back down to the tabletop, tearing at your hair until Taehyung gently stops you by taking your hands into his own. 

"But aren't those the thoughts and doubts we all have to face when considering to build a family?" he asks, the sound of his voice almost drowned out by the ringing in your ears. 

Deep breaths, y/n. Deep breaths.

"Yeah. I guess," you sigh as you sit back up, provisionally fixing your disheveled hair as good as you can without a mirror in sight. "But Yoon's words just flipped a switch inside of me, Tae. Like, I literally panicked. I couldn't breathe, and then those nasty things just came pouring from my lips, and I don't even remember exactly what I said. It was like an out-of-body experience. I watched myself break his heart, and I couldn't even do anything about it. It was as if my protective instincts just entirely took over. I felt like a cornered deer or something. Trapped, blindsided. Like my whole world was being turned upside down, and I couldn't stop falling. Like, seriously, Tae. What did he expect me to say? Yes!?" You scoff, feeling your heart rate quicken again as you relive those agonizing minutes spent in Yoon's kitchen. "One second, we barely make it as a couple, and the next he asks me to spend the rest of my life with him?" 

"Well, would you?" 

"Would I what?"

"Spend the rest of your life with him? Can you see yourself doing that?"

"I – I don't know."

"You must know, deep down."

"I – I guess so. I mean. Yes. If I would have to spend the rest of my life with one single person, it would definitely be Yoon. That's for sure." 

"Well, you better tell him that, y/n. Right now. Like, literally. Right this second." 

You don't like your brother's tone. For some reason, it sends an icy shiver down your spine. 

"Why? You sound pretty urgent, Tae. What is it? What aren't you telling me?" 

"Y/n, I don't know if it is my place to tell you, but I'm afraid Yoon lied to you. Or at least he kept part of the truth to himself."

Taehyung flinches as your grip on his hands tightens.

"What the hell are you talking about, Tae? What did he keep from me?"

"Well." He inhales deeply as if he is bracing himself for a punch to the gut. 

"Actually, there are not two, but three options the Ministry leaves people like him with. One, establish the Link no matter what or how. Two, get married first and ease, but still finalize the Link later, within a year. Or three." He pauses, holding your gaze, the look in his eyes frighteningly grave. "Get 'treated'. Meaning, Yoon will have to see a 'specialist' at the Ministry who will give him some kind of serum that will lead to a change in his DNA. He will no longer be linked to you but will be assigned a new Soulmate matching his DNA and the required criteria. The people at the Ministry will then proceed to erase his memory of you so he can have the life he was designated to live, based on his genetic code and his predetermined role in society." 

"Wait. You're kidding me, right? They can't possibly do that."

"Yes, they can. And I know that for a fact. Nana works for the Ministry, you know. She tells me about these things sometimes. Heartbreaking stories."

"You're bullshitting me right now, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not, y/n." Taehyung slowly shakes his head, his expression unchanged. "It's true. And it's been done a lot of times. Did wonders for the suicide rate. It dropped by seventy percent ever since they legalized Erasure." 

"How did I not know about this?" You can feel your throat grow tighter by the second. 

"I guess this is knowledge parents are supposed to pass on to their children. Since you grew up in foster homes, this kind of information most likely got lost along the way in your case." 

"Why don't they teach this in school?" 

"They do. But I changed schools a lot before the Kim family took me in. You did, too, right? You were moved around a lot. So, you probably missed it." 

"Shit. You're right. But Yoon must have known."

"I'm sure he did. And most likely assumed you know, too – or was hoping you didn't. One of the two." 

"Fuck." 

"And as far as I know, he must have already informed the Ministry of his decision. To abandon the Link. Because the party having received the Final Notice is usually required to report back to the Ministry within 48 hours. And keep the next possible appointment for Erasure. Which would be the first Wednesday of every month. Which would be –" A gasp escapes Taehyung's parted lips with one look at his wristwatch. "– today." 

"Shit," you soundlessly breathe, sensing a numbing cold take hold of your limbs. 

"The Ministry opens at nine in the morning. Now it's half past nine, so, Yoon's either on his way there or already inside, waiting for his number to be called. Maybe you can make it there in time if you run. It's not far. Just, like, fifteen minutes walking distance," you can hear Taehyung talk through the steadily thickening fog that threatens to smother you.

"Y/n? Can you hear me? You will have to hurry because the procedure is being performed on the subjects at minute intervals, for efficiency reasons. There's not a lot of talking involved, and he will already have filled out all the documents beforehand. Meaning, you should go. Now."

"Subjects? Efficiency?" you sneer, tears clouding your vision as you pull your hand from Taehyung's grasp. "What kind of fucked up world do we live in? We're talking about people here, Taehyung, about lives. How can Nana  work for this government?" 

"Y/n, calm down."

"The hell I won't!" you cry out, rising from your seat so abruptly, your chair falls to the ground with an ear-splitting bang. Heads are turning now, but you couldn't care less. "They can't do that! They can't just erase me like that. They –"

"Y/n," Taehyung continues in slowly getting up, his tone placating and one slender hand reaching out in a reassuring manner. "Please, calm down. You're making a scene." 

"Of course I am. Because this is wrong. And everybody should know that. It's just wrong. They can't take that away from him. From us. Nobody has the right to just erase feelings, to erase a whole person from somebody's mind."

"You brought this on yourself, y/n. I'm not saying the government is right. I'm not saying they should handle these matters the way they do. But, think hard. Weren't you the one who kept pushing Yoon out of your life? Didn't you wish you had never met him?" 

"That was ages ago, Tae. So much has changed since then. I love him. I fucking love him more than anything, okay!?" 

"Exactly," Taehyung now smiles to your great confusion. "Exactly, y/n. That's what I wanted to hear. You love him. You really do. And he loves you. But that's the problem. That's what put you on the government's radar in the first place." He lowers his voice. "People like you and Yoon, you're deviations. You're dangerous. So, of course, they'd keep a close eye on you. And they will definitely see to it that Yoon gets paired up nicely with some dull little girl who will be a reliable housewife and give him a handsome child. And, soon, – give it a few days – you will find a letter in your mail, too, y/n. That's what they do. They fix you. The government. They fix people like you. They realize they've made a mistake in Linking you and Yoon, and now they wanna reverse it. Because the two of you are proof that the system is flawed. That love can't be controlled. And you should take pride in that. I sure as hell hope none of their spies are listening in right now, but I say screw them. Go show those people that you don't give a fuck about their rules. Break them. Break the system. Go get your man." 

You're out the door before Taehyung gets to finish his sentence. 

Sports were never your strong suit, running least of all. Nonetheless, you sprint down the street as if you were running for your life. Storefronts and faces keep rushing past you, and all you can hear is the sound your own heavy breathing combined with your rapidly pounding heartbeat. 

You can't be late. You simply can't be. 

This can't be it. You refuse to believe that. 

No. You're going to be on time. You will be on time. And no one can stop you now. Not even your cowardly yourself. 

Panting, your burning lungs desperately longing for air, you stop at a red traffic light, so eager to keep moving, the Ministry already in sight, that you almost consider crossing the broad main street despite the raging rush hour traffic. You can feel your blood burn through its vessels, urging you to go to him, to go to Yoon. To tell him that you want him to be yours for life. When the light finally turns green, your legs can't seem to carry you fast enough. Just about two hundred more yards separate you from the crowded plaza in front of the ministry building that towers over the surrounding boulevards like a fortress made entirely of white marble. The golden morning sun bouncing off its ivory walls and polished windows is blinding you, giving this architectural atrocity an air of divine superiority and innocence. What a shameless lie. 

Struggling for breath, you come to a full stop in the middle of the plaza, searching the surge of people swarming to the building's pompous entryway for a familiar face. But you can't spot Yoon anywhere. Your heart already starts dropping, the fear that you are too late after all, that he is already inside and you lost him for good, weighing on it like a boulder when your eyes eventually meet his. For a few seconds, you forget how to breathe, how to exist, and time itself seems to come to a halt. 

No way. 

But it really is him. And Yoon stops cold in his step, staring at you in utter disbelief, his incredulous expression a reflection of your own. 

People keep moving on around you like a ceaseless stream, but none of them matter. Nothing matters but him. Yoon. Your soulmate. Right there, mere steps away. In your reach. 

Everything is going to be okay. 

You will be with him. 

The hint of a smile begins tugging at the corner of Yoon's mouth as he turns toward you, taking a first step in your direction. 

You can't believe it. You made it. You actually made it. 

This moment seems almost too good to be true. And in horror, you realize that it is indeed. Too good to be true. 

Too late, you recognize the imminent danger, notice the truck advancing at full speed out of the corner of your eye. 

The vehicle plows into the throng of people without slowing down, the sound of the crash being followed by an ear-splitting explosion and screams of pain and terror tearing through the brisk morning. The blast wave sends you staggering to the ground. For a split second, you black out. When you regain consciousness, you are surrounded by chaos.

Names are being called. Lifeless bodies are lying on top of each other, faces distorted by agony. 

Almost nobody was left standing. The entire plaza is covered with future corpses.  

And Yoon has disappeared. 

It takes you a few seconds to break free from your paralysis. Eventually, you regain limited control over your limbs and can see yourself moving towards the spot where you last saw Yoon. The hollow ringing, caused by the explosion, does not leave your ears. It nearly drowns out the shouts for help and outcries of agony coming from all directions. 

Blood. And so much of it. 

Blood is everywhere. People, thrown on top of each other like broken dolls, their arms and legs bent in unnatural angles. A sudden surge of overwhelming nausea forces you to your knees. 

Pain. So much pain. Death all around you. 

Why? How? What happened? 

Your brain can't process the images your eyes absorb, gruesome scenes that burn themselves into your mind for life. 

You don't think, you act. Almost automatically, you keep scanning the square for Yoon, his face, his hair, the shirt he wore. Anything you might be able to recognize him by. 

Stranger's hands are grabbing at your legs. The injured keep begging for your help, and it troubles you to leave them behind, but you have to know. If the searing pain on the inside of your wrist and the vague, harrowing sensation taking up your chest mean what you think they do. That Yoon is still breathing, fighting for his life, out there somewhere in this horrible mess. 

"Yoon!" you call out his name, again and again, until your throat is sore. 

Tears start clouding your vision, turning everything into a bloody blur. 

You keep stumbling, falling over lifeless bodies. The sickly sweet, metallic stench of death rises to your nose, sending you staggering, vertigo almost overpowering your will to keep going. 

No. No. This isn't right. Yoon can't be dead. He can't be. He isn't. You have to keep moving. You have to find him. 

And eventually, you do. 

An outcry of relief breaking free from your painfully constricted chest, you drop to your knees next to him who is struggling to move out from under a dismembered corpse. 

"You're alive," you sob, carefully pushing the dead body off Yoon's legs. His plaid shirt is drenched in thick, red blood. Not his, you hope, no, pray. 

"Barely," he coughs, cherry-colored liquid dropping from his pale lips. 

No. No. No. 

"Don't move," you urge him, scooting closer so you can carefully place his head in your lap. "You shouldn't speak. We don't know where exactly you're injured." 

You try hard to hold back the tears, to be strong for Yoon, calm. But the sight of him makes it almost impossible for you to do so. 

His beautiful face is covered in scratches and bruises. A horrendous gash stretches across his pallid forehead, just beneath the hairline, and his left arm seems to be broken, his hand already having turned an unsightly blue.

Now that he rests in your embrace, Yoon's trembling body seems to relax at least a little, easing into your arms. Lips pressed together to hold in another sob, you watch his eyelids flutter shut. 

"Yoon? Stay awake, will you?" 

He hums in response. 

"Can you tell me where you're hurt?" 

"Well, here ... for ... starters," he scoffs, using his right hand to point to his left side. Only now do you notice the piece of metal penetrating his body, right where his left lung must be situated. 

"Don't look, y/n. I did and I ... almost ... puked." 

"I said no talking, idiot," you hiss, gently pressing down on the wound around the piece of what could once have been a piece of the nearby steps' banister in an effort to keep his lifeblood from seeping out. You don't know how much more Yoon can afford to lose in his weakened state. Judging by the color of his skin, not much. 

He needs to get to a hospital. Now. 

Every second passing seems to stretch into an hour as you strain your ears hoping to pick up the sound of approaching sirens. But nothing. Not yet. 

Hurry, you silently pray. 

"You ... asked," Yoon coughs, a worrying wheeziness to his voice. 

"And you answered. Now, shush." 

It's so warm. The blood. His blood. Running through your fingers and with it valuable minutes of his life, one after the other. And there's nothing you can do but wait. Wait and hope. 

"Why ... are you here, y/n?"

Yoon struggles to open his eyes, his face white as a sheet at this point. His question comes unexpectedly. For a few seconds, you simply stare at him, mouth agape, petrified, as he patiently awaits your reply, looking up at you out of glassy eyes.

"Well," you stammer, struggling to regain your composure. "To tell you. That I love you." 

His eyes grow slightly wider. 

"It's –"

"Yeah, I know. This is the first time I actually said it," you cut him off. 

"Happy now?" you snivel, a first tear breaking your rigorously maintained barriers. "You know, I thought I would just call you in a few days, and we could maybe talk everything over, find common ground. I didn't know this would happen."

Yoon takes a shaky breath. You can feel his body shiver in your grasp.

"Well, we don't ... always ... get second chances."

"Shush. Shut your mouth. You're bleeding. I said no more talking."

You can tell he has a snappy comeback ready for you on the tip of his tongue, but fatigue seems to get the better of him before it gets a chance to leave his lips. Instead, he coughs up blood again. A sight that lets your heart skip a beat and sends an icy shiver down your spine. 

No. No. No. This can't be happening. He's gonna make it. He has to. 

"Damn. I didn't picture our next meeting like this, you know. Not at all," you start talking, fear loosening your tongue, leading the words to gush out against your will, without rhyme or reason, while hot tears stream down your cheeks. "This, this is fucked up. This can't be happening. It shouldn't. This is not how it was supposed to go. You're innocent. You – You never did anything wrong. This is all my fault. I'm the one who should be lying here." 

"Don't … say that," Yoon frowns, his voice barely a whisper. 

Finally, you can hear sirens closing in. 

"But I mean it, Yoon. If I could, I'd take your place. But I can't, and it's killing me." You are cut short by a wave of violent sobs. "I'm – I'm sorry, Yoon. So sorry. Jeez, when is this fucking ambulance gonna get here?" 

Unable to withstand Yoon's scrutinizing glance, you take a look around, pretending to search the scene for any signs of paramedics before your eyes eventually find his again. 

"Stop it. None of this ... is ... your fault ... y/n. You ... didn't drive that truck ... did you?" 

"No," you laugh through tears. "Of course not." 

"See?" Just the hint of a smug smile now curves Yoon's pale lips that are covered with a film of dark red blood. His eyes stay closed. Not a good sign. 

"I can't believe you," you shake your head. "How are you smiling right now?" 

"Because ... I made you ... laugh." 

"You're unbelievable. Seriously." You can hear the first ambulance arrive, car doors being slammed shut, steps approaching, tense voices shouting instructions. The police are at the scene just seconds after. It's just a matter of time now before help will be here. And before they take Yoon away from you, you realize, a thought that fills you with utter dread.

What if you never get to see him again? What if this is it? 

"Yoon, help is gonna be here any moment now. But before the paramedics get here –– Please, tell me your name." 

"No. Let's not ... do this ... right now," he frowns, not opening his eyes.

"But we may not get another chance. And I don't care if you die or not. Which you won't, obviously. I want it. The Link. Now," you insist. "Please, Yoon. I want my soul to be bound to yours eternally. No, I don't just want it to be. I need it to be. One with yours. Yoon, I really do. I'm not just saying this, I swear."

"But that ... would be ... cruel," he whispers, his voice barely audible, dark brows drawn together. 

"I don't care. I know what I'm getting into. I said I want it and I do. Please, Yoon. This is my decision. Tell me your name," you beg, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Slowly, Yoon opens his eyes, obviously struggling to keep them open as his gaze locks with yours.

"I ... could never ... do that to you."

"You aren't," you assure him, placing one hand on Yoon's cold cheek. It feels unfamiliar to your touch. Not warm and comforting, but delicate. You can literally watch the life drain from his papery skin. Nonetheless, he looks beautiful. So beautiful it hurts. A fallen angel, gradually fading. 

"You aren't doing anything to me, Yoon. This is my choice. And I already know that I love you. I love you more than anything. And, whatever happens, I will always love you. All my life, I was so fucking scared I would never be able to say this with confidence. To say this and actually mean it. But I can now." 

You pause, inhaling deeply to catch your breath. 

"I know I'm a little late. And I'm sorry it took me so long to admit it. But I love you, Yoon." Smiling, you look down at him through a blur of tears. "And it would be my honor to spend the rest of my life by your side. As your Soulmate." 

One last, gleaming smile lights up Yoon's features that are so unbelievably graceful even in their current state before his eyes shut and his head falls back ––  just when his lips were about to part and, lastly, carry his full name to your ears. You can feel his body go limp in your hold. 

No. 

"No. No. Yoon! Yoon? Can you hear me? Can you –"

"I'm sorry, Miss, but we're gonna have to take your friend with us, now," a medic explains as he gently pushes you aside, two more of them cautiously lifting an unconscious Yoon onto a stretcher. 

"No pulse," one of them comments after checking Yoon's vitals. 

Everything past this point is a blur. 

It feels as if you were pushed into cold water, freezing over and trapping you underneath a massive layer of ice, helpless, drowning. Numb.

You can't even remember how you got here as you anxiously pace the grey linoleum floor of some hospital's colorless corridor. Your heart is racing and so is your mind. 

Yoon. He is all you can think about. 

They have been operating on him for hours now. How many, you can't say. Too many, that's for sure. 

"Y/n, please sit down for a bit and have some water." Gently, Namjoon grabs you by your shoulders, bringing your manic wandering to a sudden end. "You need to rest." 

"No!" 

Of course, your feeble attempts at resistance are in vain. You never stood a chance against Namjoon. Not even back when you were still kids, squabbling with one another for kicks and giggles. But this, this is different. Right this instant, Namjoon's steady grasp is the only thing standing between you and literal, physical collapse, and you are infinitely grateful for his soothing presence. 

Almost willingly, you allow him to guide you to a row of chairs and place you in the seat next to Taehyung's. Without lifting his gaze from his worn out black Converses, Taehyung pulls you close and puts your head on his shoulder, resting his own against your forehead. 

"He'll be all right," he then whispers, his voice unwavering, bearing no trace of doubt. "I know he will." 

"Here." Namjoon has a sad try at a smile as he offers you a paper cup filled to the brim with water. "I can get you more if you'd like." 

"No, thanks. I think I'm good for now," you say after emptying it in one gulp, fighting the urge to throw it all up again. 

"Do you want something to eat?" Seokjin asks, leaning over from his seat. "I could get you a sandwich." 

"No, thanks." 

You struggle to hold in tears, burning in your eyes like acid. 

"Give her a break," Taehyung growls. "She isn't hungry, okay? Her soulmate is lying on the operation table right now, fighting for his life. Jesus." 

You want to thank him but can't seem to find your voice. 

"Sorry," Namjoon and Seokjin apologize. You merely manage a nod of your head in response. 

"What's going on? Who's dying?" a breathless Jungkook comes to a slithering hold before you, panting heavily, beads of sweat coating his face.

"No one," Taehyung answers in your stead. 

"What?" Jungkook frowns. "I thought –"

"Y/n's soulmate is currently being operated on," Namjoon calmly explains. 

"Oh. Oh. I'm – I'm so sorry, y/n." 

You can only imagine that Taehyung must have darted a deadly glance at him because Jungkook suddenly falls quiet and takes a seat next to him. 

"– the Ministry of Family Planning where a gruesome terrorist attack took place just this morning," you can hear some news anchor's voice coming from the waiting room's television. Involuntarily, you lift your head and crane your neck to get a better look at the screen. You flinch as pictures of the crime scene appear, stirring up memories of death and destruction you wish you didn't have to live with. 

"Could you turn that off, please? Or switch to another channel?" 

Namjoon tries to keep his voice low as he bends over the counter and talks insistently to the nurse sitting behind the close-by reception desk, urging her to change the program, a plea she seems unwilling to succumb to. 

"Please. My sister was there today, at the scene. And I'm sure being forced to relive her trauma won't make her feel any better."

"I'm sorry, young man," she responds in a tone that brooks no dissent. "But I'm afraid this is the only channel we get. And, quite frankly, operating the waiting room television does not fall within my jurisdiction. Besides, I have far more important matters to attend to. So, if you would please return to your seat, Sir. There's nothing I can do for you."

All the while, Namjoon keeps peeking over his shoulder, checking on you, his expression apologetic. As if all of this was somehow his fault. But none of it is. Because it's all on you.  

The hours drag on like molasses. You can still smell Yoon's blood on your clothes, the smoke in your hair. 

"Did you get your head checked on?" 

Taehyung's question barely makes it through the dense haze of dull pain clouding your mind. It feels as if his voice reaches you in a dream, but you're not sleeping. 

"What?"

"Your head, y/n," he repeats, looking at you with concern. "Did you have it examined?" 

"What? Why?" 

"Because you have a nasty bruise right there," he points at your temple, his fingers hovering over your skin, reluctant to touch it. "It looks serious. Maybe you should have one of the doctors check it out." 

"No. No need. It's nothing. I barely have a headache. Plus, there's no time. There are so many people here who need help far more urgently than me. You should have seen them. The bodies. The –" Your thoughts get lost in the sound of your own blood roaring in your ears. You can feel a suffocating lump form in your throat, making it harder for you to breathe by the second.

"Yoon," you jump to your feet, the thought of him sending a fresh surge of adrenaline through your bloodstream. "Yoon. I need to see him. I need to know if he is still alive."

"Shush, it's okay, y/n." Taehyung gets up to pull you in for a close hug, firmly keeping you in place and from running off towards the operating room once again. "It's all right. Yoon's gonna be fine. He's gonna be just fine." 

Somehow, your brother's words have lost their power, no more achieving their reassuring purpose. 

Nonetheless, you give in and allow Taehyung to push you back down into your uncomfortable chair, your body, drained of all energy, none of it left in you to fight anymore, remaining in a state of absolute petrification whereas your thoughts keep racing, chasing themselves in an attempt to escape the undeniable truth. 

That you might have lost him. For good this time. 

SEVEN MONTHS LATER ...

Quietly, you run your hands across the straightened linens of the empty hospital bed. 

You still can’t believe it, can’t seem to be able to wrap your mind around the happenings of the past few months. Just contemplating the course of events brings tears to your eyes once more. You're surprised there are even any left in your organism after all the hours you spent sobbing by Yoon's bedside. 

Days and nights you spent in this cold, dull hospital room, your only company the never-fading smell of disinfectant and Yoon's unconscious body, bathed in the pale glow of LED lamps. Back then, you kept thinking what you wouldn't give to look into his deep, dark eyes once more, what you wouldn't give for them to open again by some miracle. But they remained closed. 

"Do you think I was right? To ask the doctors not to tell me?" you wonder aloud, recognizing your brother's presence in the room without even looking. 

"I don't know." Namjoon steps up to you from behind, putting his arm around your shoulder with a long sigh. "You tell me, y/n." 

For a few seconds, you fall silent, your hands now tightly clutching the fabric of Yoon's plaid shirt. The one he was wearing on the day of the attack. You washed it a dozen times, but the bloodstains still wouldn't quite come off. 

"Yes," you then nod with newly found confidence. "Yes. I made the right choice. I'm sure. And I'm glad I stuck with it. It wasn't the doctors' place to tell me Yoon's name. Thanks for always being there and making sure they didn't, helping me through the whole process. I don't know what I would've done without you, Joonie."

"Hey, hey, don't cry just yet." He gently brushes a stray tear off your cheek with the calloused tip of his thumb. Just like old times. Always the big brother. "Save your tears for later." 

"I'll try." 

"Good. Because we need to leave. Now. Or you'll be late for the ceremony."

Namjoon pauses, waiting for your reaction. 

"Y/n? Are you ready?"

Forcing a smile, you take a deep breath and straighten your back before you turn around to face your brother, struggling to keep your eyes from welling up again. 

"Yeah. I'm ready." 

"No, you're not," you can hear Taehyung's voice coming from the hallway. 

"No, I'm not." 

"But you can do it, y/n." With a warm smile, Namjoon takes hold of your hand. "I know you can. And you will. You knew this day would come. And I can understand that you're scared. But you'll feel so much better once you went through with it." 

"God, will you stop, Namjoon!?“, Taehyung rolls his eyes, linking arms with you, both of your brothers now guiding you outside and down the corridor, away from the memories. "You make it sound so horrible. No wonder she's scared.“

Taehyung indignantly shakes his head.

"Y/n, I can promise you, this is gonna be a life-changing experience," he now addresses you directly, his expression solemn but his tone sarcastic. "You'll see. You'll come out of that chapel a different woman. And after all these months, you will finally get the closure you deserve. Today, you start your new life." 

"Shut up," you hiss through gritted teeth, smiling at a doctor who gives you a puzzled once-over in passing before you go on to kick Taehyung in the shin. "Both of you. You're only making things worse." 

"Sorry," both of them grumble in unison. As you shift in his hold, you can feel Namjoon flinch, presumably scared of being the next one to receive a kick as punishment. 

"Sorry," you lower your voice to a whisper when the tree of you come to a full stop before the hospital chapel's double door. "Sorry, I'm so irritable. I'm just –" 

"Nervous," Namjoon finishes your sentence. "It's okay. We get it. That's why we're here." 

"To make sure you don't run away," Taehyung teases.

"You really want me to kick you again?" 

"No, thanks." 

"Jesus," Seokjin's voice cuts through your whispery bickering. "Can't you guys stop squabbling for even one second? Not even on a day such as today?" 

With a condescending shake of his head, he busies himself with fixing Namjoon's bow-tie. 

"You look dashing," he smiles at his husband, quickly leaning in for a peck on the lips Namjoon happily gives. 

"Yeah, yeah. But can we move on now?" Taehyung whines. "I've had, like, three sodas earlier. If we don't go right now, I'm gonna have to leave for the men's room." 

"You're such a baby," Seokjin scoffs but takes a step aside, clearing the path for you and your brothers to finally enter the oratory. 

"You ready?" he locks eyes with you, waiting for your signal. 

"Yes," you nod your head, tightening your hold on your brothers' arms. 

"Okay. Three, two," Seokjin starts dramatically counting down as he reaches out to pull open the tall doors leading to the chapel. "One. And go." 

For a second, you freeze as the ceremonious music reaches your ears and you notice the first heads turning, familiar eyes watching you intently as you start to make your way down the aisle.

At first, you don't dare to lift your gaze off the floor under your feet, afraid the sight of him would lead you to break down in tears. 

The sight of Yoon. 

Waiting for you by the altar. 

At this moment, you can't help but remember all the times when you sat by his side, considering your options, wondering whether you would be able to go through with an open-casket funeral. Back then, you never thought it would really come to this. 

Lastly, you come to a halt before him. 

With one last squeeze, Taehyung reluctantly lets go of your arm while Namjoon remains by your side. And you're glad he does, because your knees feel as if they were turning to water when the pastor now begins to speak, his rich voice echoing through the silent chapel. 

"Thank you to the friends and family that are here today to celebrate this union." 

Hesitantly, you let your glance wander upwards to meet Yoon's. His eyes are smiling. 

"This occasion not only marks the beginning of their marriage commitment together, but it is a commemoration of the love nurtured and shared between these two. Together, they embark today on a new life together, built on the foundations of trust, compassion, mutual respect and a bond of souls that is never to be broken." 

'Hey there,' you soundlessly form with your lips, barely resisting the urge to lean down and kiss Yoon right then and there. He looks unbelievably handsome in his black tuxedo. 

'You look stunning,' Yoon soundlessly whispers in response, obviously in awe of your floor-length white dress. 

"Who gives this bride today?" the minister asks. 

"I do," Namjoon answers with pride before he, too, steps aside. 

"If there is anyone in attendance who has cause to believe that this couple should not be joined in marriage, you may speak now or forever hold your peace." 

All the gathered guests seem to hold their breath simultaneously while knowing eyes start searching the crowd for one particular face. You can't help but let out a short laugh when your eyes find Jimin who is looking around in bewilderment. 

"Did you guys really think  I would –?" he gasps, half laughing, pretending to be offended. 

"No," you grin. "Of course not." 

You give Jimin, who's fingers are intertwined with those of his beautiful girlfriend of four months, an apologetic wink before you swiftly bow to the pastor. 

"I'm sorry. You may proceed."

He acknowledges your words with a forbearing nod of his grayed head and continues to speak. 

"Marriage is an ancient human tradition. The personal and social merits that accompany the bonds of marriage have led to its continued endurance and have paved the way for us to be standing here before the Universe celebrating the union between these two people today that, by far, exceeds the nature of the mere Link."

From the corner of your eye, you can tell Yoon is watching you fondly. 

"Marriage is, truly, a magical gift. As Mark Twain noted, 'Marriage makes of two fractional lives a whole, and it gives to two purposeless lives a work, it gives to two questioning natures a reason for living, and something to live for; it will give a new gladness to the sunshine, a new fragrance to the flowers, a new beauty to the earth, a new mystery to life.'"

The minister pauses. 

Through a blur of tears, you look over at Yoon, sitting next to you in a wheelchair, his face gleaming with joy. 

"At this time, before proceeding with the bonding ceremony, I would invite the couple to share their vows. Y/n, would you please deliver yours first?"

"Of course." You clear your throat and turn to face Yoon now.

“Today, I take you as my husband," you begin after a few seconds of absolute silence. As you go on, you barely manage to keep your voice steady. 

"Quite frankly, I had lost faith that this moment would ever come. That we would stand here, together. But during these past few months, I prayed every single day that I would meet you again. Here, exactly like this, at the altar, witnessed by all the people we love. Because I love you, Yoon. I love you now as I've always loved you, and as I always will love you." 

Yoon remains quiet. But you can tell by merely looking at him that your words mean more to him than he could ever say. 

"And now Yoon, would you deliver your vows?"

"Gladly." The corners of his mouth quirk up almost imperceptibly. "I'm not a big fan of talking in front of people, so I'm gonna keep this short. Sorry." 

He quickly looks around the room before his eyes lock with yours again. 

"Y/n, today I take you as my wife, and there's honestly no one else I could imagine spending my life with. I love you now as I've loved you from the first time I saw you in that bar – and as I will love you till the day I die. Not to be dramatic. But it's true." 

A murmur of hushed giggles goes through the crowd. 

"Honest words," the minister remarks, apparently pleased.

"Y/n and Yoon, please join hands," he then demands. And you gladly comply, offering your assistance as Yoon tries to stand up, his legs still weakened from the months spent in a hospital bed. 

"Y/n," the minister resumes. "Do you take Yoon as your cherished husband, in front of these witnesses, and promise to stay by his side through sickness and health, joy and sorrow, so long as you both shall live?"

"I do," you reply without even a hint of hesitation. 

"Yoon, will you take Y/n as your cherished wife, in front of these witnesses, and promise to stay by her side through sickness and health, joy and sorrow, so long as you both shall live?"

"I do." 

"The rings?" the minister arches a brow. 

"Oh. Oh. Of course," Taehyung mumbles, a fierce blush tinting his cheeks while he frantically searches the pockets of his vintage suit jacket. "Wait a second." The tension is palpable. 

"Here you go," he grins sheepishly.  

Smiling, you roll your eyes as you take the rings from him, handing one of them to Yoon whose glance never once left you all this time. 

"The wedding rings perfectly symbolize the never-ending love you two have for each other," the minister explains. "By exchanging these rings, you solidify a lifelong commitment to one another. The rings serve as a welcome and constant reminder of the bond you've formed with your partner. Please repeat after me." 

He halts, his gaze fixed on you. 

"I, Y/n, give you, Yoon this ring as a symbol of my enduring love. Just as the circle of the ring completes itself, so you complete me."

You repeat the words as you put the ring on Yoon's finger, your hands shaking so violently you almost fail even at the second attempt. 

"Now it's your turn," the pastor turns to Yoon. "Repeat after me: I, Yoon, give you, Y/N this ring as a symbol of my enduring love. Just as the circle of the ring completes itself, so you complete me." 

You can feel your throat close up when you listen to Yoon speaking those words with such sincerity and faith, you are sure you have never heard anything more beautiful in your life. Effortlessly, he slides the silver ring onto your finger. 

"Y/n and Yoon, by the power vested in me by the Church and the Republic of Korea, I am pleased to pronounce you husband and wife, sealed together today both in law and in love." 

The minister gives you a cordial smile. 

"Yoon, you may now kiss the bride!" 

And he does. You need to remind yourself that you're inside a church when Yoon's lips meet yours and have trouble detaching yourself from him when the minister demonstratively clears his throat. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," he solemnly announces, shaking his head with a grin. "I now have the privilege of presenting, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. –"

He stops, with a brisk nod indicating to Yoon that he is to continue. 

"Mr. and Mrs.," Yoon takes over, your hand still resting in his, his onyx eyes locked with yours and his voice bearing no trace of uncertainty as he finally speaks his name, stretching out every syllable. 

"Min Yoongi."

Almost instantly, you can feel a pleasantly warm surge of energy run through your entire being, originating from the point where both your palms are joined and shooting through your left wrist and arm until it reaches your heart. Yoon's grip on your hand tightens when you gasp for air, taken aback by the intensity of the experience. 

You break eye contact with him only to take a peek at the inside of your wrist and discover Yoon's full name written on your skin in simple yet elegant letters. 

When you look back up again, it's as if you see Yoon for the very first time, through a fresh set of eyes, his image brighter, clearer than ever before and his beauty all the more evident. 

Your feelings for him, however, remain the same. 

Nothing has changed even though everything is different. 

And suddenly, you’re not afraid anymore. 

Because you are whole now. 

T H E    E N D 

A/N: Guys. I can’t believe I did it. I can’t believe I created this. 😭 This story took me places I never thought it would, it helped me grow and heal and brought me closer to you. 🤧 I never thought this series would become so meaningful to me. But it did. And I’m grateful I got to write and share it with you guys. 😌💖

[God, I’m so emotional right now.] 

Thank you for reading! Thank you so much for staying with this series until the end, for your support, encouragement and lovely feedback. 💖 It means the world to me. 💖💖 I hope you enjoyed ‘Linked’ and that this, its final chapter, didn’t disappoint. 😌 

Love, Ana 💖

Here you can find my Masterlist in case you feel like checking out more of my BTS fiction.

Also, if you have Spotify, you can listen to the ‘official’ 🎶 playlist 🎶 to the ‘Linked’ series here. It contains all the songs having been sent back and forth between Yoongi and the reader in the past and some more tunes fitting the series’ vibe.  

CHAPTER 18

Now it all makes sense. Why I felt so drawn to you. Why you knew me so well. Why you appeared when I was at my weakest. 

How could you?? When were you planning on telling me your birth name?? Once I broke up with Jimin?? Or would you even have waited that long?? 

Shit. I trusted you. I was so blind. I should’ve seen it coming. 

Don’t contact me. I really can’t have this right now. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Yoongi can’t stop himself from muttering this same word over and over again as he pulls the cannula out of his vein without giving it a second thought and gets up and out of the uncomfortable hospital bed, his mind racing, all his thoughts revolving around you. 

He has no idea how long ago you left. He doesn’t even know where you would go from here, where there is even the remote chance of finding you. But what he does know is that he cannot stay put here and let you walk away, just like that, sitting it out, not even trying to hold you back. His soulmate. He cannot just let you slip through his fingers. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be like this. End like this. 

No. He refuses to believe this is the end. It can’t be. It can’t. 

“Where do you think you’re going, young man?” 

Yoongi doesn’t get very far, though. Before he can make it out of the room, he is stopped by a firm hand grabbing his arm. Nothing seems to escape this nurse’s attention. 

“Back to bed. Now. The doctor responsible needs to discharge you before you can set a foot across this door sill.”

“But —”

“No buts.”

“But — Wait. Who even paid for my treatment?” 

“Your friend did, of course.” 

“What? She —?”

“And now stop wasting her precious money and go back to bed. The doctor will examine you again in the morning. Only then will he be able to tell if you’re free to leave. We want to do our job properly after all.” 

Reluctantly accepting the fact that there is no use in going against this unrelenting woman, Yoongi eventually caves in and does as he is told, watching the nurse re-connect the IV bag to his bloodstream. 

“What’s that?”, he inquires, gesturing towards the plastic bag filled with a clear liquid. 

“Antibiotics.”

“What for?” 

“You are suffering from pleurisy, young man.” 

“Of what?” 

“An inflammation of your pleura.”

“Due to what?” 

“Trauma, it says on your chart. Apparently, one of your ribs was badly bruised.” 

“Oh.” 

“Well. You’re all set now. Take a nap. Drink a lot of water. There is pain medication sitting on your nightstand, in case you need it to sleep.” 

“Thanks.” 

Pleased with her work, the nurse takes a step back and eyes him intently, her head tilted to one side like that of an attentive dog. 

“You’re so young, but your body is so tired already.” Hands resting on her hips, she sighs, shaking her head in discontent. “I hope that woman of yours takes good care of you in the future. You need someone who feeds you right. Good food. Home-cooked.” 

Her well-intentioned words hit him like a blow to the stomach. 

“Yeah. Sure”, he nods, struggling to conjure up a cordial smile. “I’ll let her know.”

If I ever see her again. 

“If you don’t, I will”, the nurse — Yoongi takes a quick look at her name tag — called Oh jokes. “Such a handsome young man, but far too frail.” 

She clicks her tongue in a reproving manner. 

“Now rest. Let the medicine do its work and get some sleep. You look like you could use it.” 

With that conclusion, she turns away and leaves Yoongi to his torturing thoughts, your last words echoing in his mind, haunting him until he, eventually, drifts off into sleep. 

Headphones on, your phone in airplane mode, hands buried deep inside the pockets of your black bomber jacket, you start walking at a smart pace, quickly bringing a safe distance between yourself and the hospital you just left. Even now you’re still shaking, your legs barely carrying your weight. 

It’s him. It’s really him. It can’t be. But it is. Your thoughts keep spinning. 

Suga. He’s your soulmate. No doubt about it. You could clearly read your name as you frantically checked Suga’s pulse, the letters standing out blood red against the pale skin of his wrist. Y/l/n Y/n. The possibility of him having linked with another woman of exactly the same name not too long ago, judging by the early stage of healing his tattoo manifested, and him coincidentally stumbling into the very bar you work at just about when you broke off any contact with your anonymous soulmate is close to zero. 

It’s him. It must be him. Suga being your soulmate makes an awful lot of sense, now that you come to think of it. It would explain everything. Why you were so drawn to this ominous stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger to you at all. Why you blindly trusted him from the very start. Why you felt so comfortable around him, felt like he was the first person on this godforsaken planet to actually understand you. Why your burn wound, or rather the inside of your left wrist, the spot on your skin that is supposed to be taken up by his name, started itching again every time you were near him. 

You should’ve known, should’ve been able to tell by the way he talked about his soulmate. About you. You should’ve figured it out before it was too late. Before he, somehow, made his way into your mind and heart. But you were just too preoccupied with Jimin and everything that was going on. You really stood no chance. 

And now … What now?

Your thoughts keep racing, chasing their own tails. 

How do you even feel about him? About Suga? Why do you miss him, although you left him behind in that hospital bed no more than thirty minutes ago? And are any of those feelings real? How will you ever be able to tell? And if they are, how could you just overlook the fact that he tricked you? That he lied to you, abused your trust? And, most importantly and purely hypothetical, how could you ever be with him without actually establishing the Link?

Because linking with him is still not even close to an option. The mere thought of it makes you sick to your stomach. 

After all, you don’t want to end up like her. Like your mother. Pitiful. Desperate. Without power or sanity.  

No. No way. Not ever. 

You will never let yourself abandon all control over your own life like that. You will not give in to genetics. Nobody other than you and you alone, not your soulmate, not science, not fate, will ever take the reins of your so-called destiny. 

That’s what you swore to yourself when you saw your mother’s lifeless body dangling from your kitchen ceiling all those years ago. Leaving you alone. All alone in this strange and cold world. Her own child, no more than four years old. Simply because her soul couldn’t take the loss of its one true mate. 

No. You will not become her. You will not surrender. Not ever. Not for the life of you. 

Even if it means you are to spend the rest of your existence in isolation. You will, under no circumstances, subject yourself to this kind of power. 

Your nails boring deep into your palms, the pain, at least to some extent, bringing you relief, you keep striding forward aimlessly, your feet carrying you to a location even unknown to yourself while deafeningly loud punk rock seeps out of your high-fidelity headphones, almost successfully drowning out each and every painful thought of Suga and Jimin. 

Because, as if you didn’t have enough on your plate already thanks to this unexpected revelation of Suga’s true identity, sitting in the hospital’s waiting room you forced yourself to face reality and turned your phone back on. A decision that resulted in you being presented with more than a dozen unread and exceedingly unsettling messages by your distraught boyfriend and worried brother. 

With shaking hands, you kept scrolling through the countless angry outcries Jimin had sent your way last night while you were sound asleep in Suga’s studio. Your muffled gasps echoed from the walls of the quiet anteroom as you skimmed the text messages depicting the progression of Jimin’s heartbreaking exasperation over the course of several hours.

Approximately 26 hours ago ...

Present Time. 

His words still haunt you, their tone desperate. 

‘You still love me, right?’

Jimin must have been hurting when he wrote [these words].

As you now mend your pace, tears burning in your eyes, blurring your vision, you can see him before you. The lost, ‘damaged’ teenage boy whom you shared your first kiss with all those years ago. In your mind’s eye, you can see it play back like a movie. The night of the thunderstorm when you had tried to run away from your foster home — the fourth in total that child protective services had placed you in. Jimin ran after you, despite the pouring rain. When he finally caught up with you, he begged you to stay and confessed his feelings. He told you that you were the most beautiful person he had ever met and that he loved you for all that you were, and if any fourteen-year-old ever spoke these words and truly meant them, it was Park Jimin. His eyes gave him away. They were genuine. You knew you could trust him.

Jimin was the first person you ever let in. If he hadn’t come after you that night, there’s no telling where you’d be right now. Dead, for all you know. He saved you. You saved each other.

The both of you had made an oath that night, to protect one another and always stay together, come what may. 

Back then, it had felt right and keeping your promise seemed to be possible, the only possibility, really. But now, at this moment, you don’t know anymore. If you ever truly reciprocated his feelings. If you ever loved Jimin the way he loves you. Or if you just needed a companion. Someone to catch you when you fell. A friend and nothing more.

Sure, your feelings for Jimin changed quickly following his heartfelt confession. You suddenly saw him in an entirely new light. Not as a wanna-be brother anymore. But as a man.

When you first got together, the two of you were young and both your bodies were riddled with hormones. You were inseparable and couldn’t keep your hands off of each other whenever you were alone. Being intimate with Jimin was exciting. You never even gave your reasons for craving after his touch and body much thought. You never questioned your desire. In hindsight, though, you’re not sure if you enjoyed the sensual part of your relationship merely for the satisfaction it gave you or because it was Jimin pleasuring you. If you’re entirely honest with yourself, you’re afraid the former is the case. It has been for a while, at least. But it never bothered you. Not until you learned what it truly feels like to want somebody. Need somebody. On so many more levels than just this one. 

Damn. And there he is. Back again. Suga. In your head. Haunting your every thought. 

You can’t erase the pictures. Of his pale face. His limp body. He looked so small in that hospital bed, so vulnerable. It took all the strength you had in you to leave him behind. But staying around until he’d wake up wasn’t an option, either. Right now, you’re in no condition to face him. Being around each other won’t do either of you any good until you have all of this figured out. Or at least some things are starting to make sense. Because, right now, nothing does. 

What you need is a drink. Or two. Your feet carried you to the right place then, you acknowledge as you lift your head to find yourself staring at the neon sign hanging over the entrance to the Plutarch. 

Great. At your workplace on your night off. How pathetic. On the other hand, though, where else would you come across an unlimited supply of free drinks at this time of night? Right. Nowhere. 

So, straightening your posture, you throw open the door and step into the bar where you are greeted by the all too familiar stench of sweat, booze, and nicotine.

Drink in hand, you stumble through the Plutarch’s back door and into the fresh night air, the boosted bass of the electronic dance music following you outside, echoing through the littered back alley. 

A few minutes pass until Taehyung eventually picks up, his voice low and heavy with sleep. 

“Y/nnie? What’s up? Where are you? It’s late.” 

You can hear fabric rustle in the background. 

“Shit. I woke you up, didn’t I!?”

“It’s okay, y/n. I’m glad to hear from you. Let me just — Wait a sec — I don’t wanna wake up Nana.”

Your heart stings at the mention of his soulmate and the image of them peacefully sleeping side by side, perfectly content in the knowledge of having linked with their mate for life. 

With a shake of your head and another sip from your beer bottle, you push aside that useless thought. 

“Where were you, y/n?” He pauses, the sound of a closing door filling the silence on his end of the phone line. “Is that music I hear? Are you out? Alone. Or with —”

“With Suga?”, you scoff, kicking an empty coke can. “No. No, I’m not with him. Not anymore at least.”

“He told you? That I called?” 

“Yeah. Sorry that I didn’t text you back. I read your messages. I didn't mean to worry you. It’s just — Everything is a little overwhelming currently. And — And I —”

You wanted to hold them back. So badly. The tears. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry again and you tried hard, so hard, not to give in. But the alcohol combined with the sound of Taehyung’s warm voice eventually break your resistance. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong? What happened? Are you crying? Are you okay!?”

“Funny thing’s that I’m perfectly fine. But Suga — He —”

“What’s wrong with him? Is he in trouble?” 

“He’s in the hospital, Tae. He — He just collapsed. Out of the blue. And I — I saw it, okay!? That he’s my fucking soulmate!” 

“Oh.” 

“Oh!? Is that really all you have to say to that, Kim Taehyung!?” you scream into the receiver, your voice cracking, drowning in stifled sobs. “He was wearing my fucking name on his wrist, Tae. Did you know? You knew, didn’t you!? You fucking knew!” 

Of course, he knew. 

“Y/n, have you been drinking?” 

“What!? Why?”

“It’s just. You’re cursing. A lot. And you only —”

“Does it really matter right now?” 

“No. I — I just want you to be safe, that’s all.” 

With one big gulp, you empty your bottle.

“I’m fine, Tae. Never been better. It’s your friend you should be worried about. You can find him in the Seoul National University Hospital, room 1346. I paid for his treatment and all, so no need to worry about that. Just … make sure he’s okay, I guess.” 

“Yes! Of course! I’m already on my way. But — Did you —”

“No, Tae, we didn’t link. I left before he even woke up. I still don’t know his name and I want to keep it that way.”

“Of course. Of course! I get it. I do. With all that happened to you. I get it, okay? I’d never tell you. It’s not my place.” 

“Right”, you snicker. “So, it wasn’t you who sent him to the Plutarch that night, when we ended up in the ER?”

You are met with silence. 

“It’s okay, Tae. I don’t hate you or anything. I mean, you should’ve stayed out of it. But what’s done is done and I know you meant well. Just — From now on please don’t get involved. I mean it.” 

“All right. I won’t. I promise.” He seems to mean it. And you know, Kim Taehyung is a man of his word and he respects you far too much to consciously go against what you want. 

“Thank you”, you sigh, running a hand through your hair, damp from sweat. “I just can’t have any more drama right now.”

“Then you should better not come over, I guess.” 

“Why?”

“Because Jimin’s crashing on our couch. He arrived here early in the morning, drunk as hell, and didn’t leave ever since.” 

Shit. He must’ve missed his rehearsal. 

“Okay. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Where will you sleep then? Do you have a place to stay?”

“Dunno. Maybe I’ll stay with Catrina, my colleague. Her roomies are nice. They won’t ask questions.”

“So, you’re at the Plutarch?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.” He sounds relieved. “At least you’re safe there. But, don’t do anything stupid, okay? No going home with random strangers and stuff, okay?” 

“Tsk. What are you? My dad?”

“Please, y/n. Promise me you won’t fall back into old habits. I remember quite vividly what the sleeping around did to you when you, you know, were on a break from Jiminie.” 

Yes. You remember, too. And part of you wants to feel it again. Wants to be used again. To be treated like a piece of meat and thrown away after. But the other part knows very well where these kinds of escapades usually lead you. And you’re not to keen on going back to that place. Because, deep down, you’re scared that, this time, you won’t make it back. 

“All right, I won’t. I promise. No screwing around tonight. I’m not in the mood anyway.” 

“Haha. Good to know”, Taehyung laughs. His deep, warm, rich laugh. The laugh that makes you feel safe and grounded wherever you are. Like hot chocolate. You’d give anything for a hug from him right now. 

“I love you, Tae. You know that, right?” 

“Ah. You always get so sappy when you’re drunk.” 

“Stop it, or I’ll take it back.” 

He clears his throat before he speaks up again, his tone almost solemn this time. 

“Yes, I know, y/n. And I love you, too. You’re family. You always will be.”

“Thank you. Nana is a lucky woman.” 

“I’d say it’s the other way around”, he jokes, eliciting a genuine smile from you. Taehyung, the life of the party, so handsome heads keep turning wherever he shows up, always so humble. 

“Well, give my love to her. And —”

You stop in mid-sentence, your mind suddenly blank. You know what you mean to say, but the words just won’t come. 

“Yes, y/nnie. I’ll take good care of Suga. Don’t worry.” 

“Thanks”, you barely manage to croak out. 

“No need to thank me. Let me know later if you found a safe place to stay for the night.”

“Will do.” 

After you said your goodbyes, you end the call and are left with nothing but deafening silence. Even the music is gone now. And dawn is breaking already. 

As if by command, Catrina pokes her head out through the back door, her eyes searching the alley until they find you. 

“Here you are! Come on. Move your pretty ass. It’s time to leave and we have to lock up. I wanna fucking sleep, okay!?” 

Impatient as always, she waves you nearer, grabbing at your sleeve and pulling you inside as soon as you come into range.

“Do you have a death wish I should know about!?” She shakes her head, strawberry blonde hair flying. “Jeez, y/n. It’s freezing cold outside. What were you even doing there? You missed all the fun.” 

Playfully punching your shoulder, she throws her head back, her crystal clear laughter resounding in the now-empty club. 

“There was this hot chick who —”

“Cat”, you cut her short, having trouble to keep your teeth from chattering. “Could I maybe stay with you for tonight? Or this week? Or, you know, just for a while?”

“So, basically, I fainted because of this pleurisy thing, the resulting fever, extreme physical and emotional stress due to the proximity of my unlinked soulmate and the implied consequences, like cardiac arrhythmias and stuff. And, well, malnutrition over an extent of a few weeks, months maybe. On top of that a moderate panic attack. Things like that. They just all came together somehow. At that very moment. Or that’s what the doctors say, at least. I didn’t even see it coming.” 

Sitting on the edge of Yoongi’s hospital bed, Taehyung listens attentively while the other one cites his numerous bodily defects, his countenance suggesting that none of this is any of his business or reason for particular concern. Yoongi speaks as if he is talking about someone else, not meeting Taehyung’s eye. Nonetheless, the older one fails miserably in his attempt to hide his true state of mind. He’s anxious, restless, clearly tormented, judging by the way Yoongi’s fingers nervously fiddle with the rim of his sweater’s wide sleeve and his teeth keep gnawing away at his swollen lip, nails bitten short to the bloody nail beds. 

Taehyung can very well imagine what it must look like behind those dark, glossy eyes. He remembers the agonizing hours after meeting Nana and until she finally linked back with him as clearly as if it happened yesterday. And, at this point, Yoongi has been existing in this limbo of longing for a week already. It’s incredible that he is even still alive, Taehyung thinks to himself. His friend must surely possess a strong heart and mind not to be driven insane by this burning desire to be with his one destined mate. Especially the knowledge of your current situation should be torturous to him. Because, if his distant expression is anything to go by, Yoongi must have a rather good idea of how you are dealing with this whole mess. 

“That doesn’t sound too good, Hyung”, Taehyung eventually concludes after Yoongi has fallen silent and resorted to motionlessly gazing into space. “I talked to her, just a little while ago, in case you were wondering.” 

“To who?”

“Come on, Yoongi. Who are you trying to fool? She’s all you can think about.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Yoongi leans further back into his pillow, looking away, lips pursed in disapproval. 

“It’s five in the morning. What are you even doing here? Did you sleep here?”

“Kind of. Y/n called me to look after you. But that’s not what’s important right now”, Taehyung protests. “Don’t try and change the topic. You can’t just act like nothing’s different, Yoongi. Like this isn’t a big deal. Come on. Talk to me. Y/n basically went missing for 24 hours, dropped off the face of the earth. What happened? What did you do? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t, okay!?”, Yoongi snaps at him, having trouble keeping his voice down, it appears. The nurse shoots him a warning glance whereupon he pulls his blanket up to his chin like a sulky five-year-old. “Just — After I met her, thanks to you.” He pauses to dart a murderous look at Taehyung. “I couldn’t stay away anymore. I wanted — No, I needed to see her again, to be with her, to feel her close and make sure she’s okay. Because she didn’t seem like it when I left her that night.” 

“I know. Okay? I know what it’s like. From experience. But — You must’ve felt like shit.”

“No. Well, yeah. But she kinda made me forget, you know? Whenever I looked at her, the pain disappeared. Or at least I didn’t feel it anymore.”

“Or you fooled yourself into thinking you didn’t feel it anymore. Yoongi, you could’ve died. Of heart failure or something. Do you realize that?” 

The older one just shrugs in response. His indifference is starting to anger Taehyung. 

“Hyung, you shouldn’t be this reckless. I mean, If you don’t care about yourself, at least think about her. How do you imagine she would’ve felt if she found out she could have killed you? Or how she must be feeling right now, knowing that she’s responsible for your pain?” 

Finally, he engaged his friend’s attention. Alert, Yoongi’s eyes shoot up to meet his. 

“What did she say? How is she?” 

“Well …”, Taehyung sighs. “She’s not exactly great. But I think she’ll live.” 

“Is she staying at your place?” 

“No. She can’t since –– —” 

“Since what?”

“Well. That’s where Jimin is staying, so …”

“Oh.” 

Taehyung can literally watch Yoongi’s mood drop to an all new low. 

“Are they — Did she mention if they were —?” he cautiously asks.

“What?” Yoongi answers his tactless question with one of his own. “If y/n mentioned anything about making up with him? With this dancer guy?”

“Hey, careful there. Jimin’s like my brother. I love him. And he doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of all this, okay?” 

“All right, all right. Sorry.” Yoongi raises his wiry hands in defense. “But, no, it didn’t seem like she was particularly looking forward to seeing him again. She had a couple of, I don’t know, panic attacks or something, just talking about him. How she didn’t love him anymore but she didn’t wanna hurt him either.” 

“Yeah, sounds like her.” 

Poor Y/nnie, Taehyung can’t help but think to himself. You must be miserable right now. Knowing you, his sister, the last thing you’d want to do would be to hurt anybody, most of all Jimin. Taehyung is well aware of how special a bond the two of you had formed over the years. He watched it flourish with his own two eyes. Breaking it can’t possibly be an easy thing to do.

“So, Taehyung?” Clearing his throat, Yoongi props himself up on his elbows. “Would you mind telling me something? Because I didn’t get a chance to ask her.” 

Taehyung has a feeling he is about to break his word he gave you on the way over here.

“Sure. Ask away. I’m just not sure if I can answer.”

“Fair enough.”

Yoongi sits up, leaning in closer, his eyes eager.

“Y/n’s feelings towards the whole Link business are rather extreme, it seems. So, what’s up with her and this soulmate thing? Why is she so adamantly against it? There must be a reason and I think I deserve to know.”

He knew it. Taehyung knew he would regret making that promise to you. Because he is about to get so involved in your business, there will be no getting out of it again.

“Well, she has her reasons, that’s for sure”, he starts out, swallowing hard.

Please don’t hate me for this, y/nnie, he sends a quick prayer to the hospital’s unsightly styrofoam ceiling before he continues.

“Have you ever heard of phantom pain?”

Yoongi nods.

“Well, the soul can have it, too. And some people aren’t strong enough to endure it.”

“What are you getting at?” 

“Y/n’s mother — She committed suicide. Six days after y/n’s father, her mother’s soulmate died. The woman just couldn’t take it. And hung herself in their family kitchen, right in front of her four-year-old daughter eyes. After having neglected her child for days, not even feeding her, only screaming her husband’s name time and again, sobbing herself to sleep while her daughter was literally starving next to her.” 

Taehyung can barely fight back tears as he retells your life story, his voice trembling. He still remembers the girl he first met more than ten years ago. Frail. Pale. Scared. Untrusting. 

“When Y/n became of age and was first allowed access to her files, I got a glimpse of pictures that were taken when child protective services found her back then. She was in a terrible state. No wonder she’s still traumatized. She remembers everything, Hyung. Every. Little. Detail. But most of all the screams. She once told me that, sometimes, she still hears them in her sleep.” A cold shiver runs down Taehyung’s spine at the thought of it. He really hopes you’re not alone right now. All of this must surely, once again, have stirred up those horrible memories you tried so hard to bury. 

“Her mother turned into an entirely different person with her husband’s death”, Taehyung proceeds after a few seconds of silence. Meanwhile, Yoongi seems to have fallen into some kind of paralysis. Taehyung can’t be sure if his friend is even still breathing. 

“The second she lost her soulmate, she lost herself. And y/n never ever wants to go through that, to allow anyone or anything to have this kind of control over her state of mind. But can you blame her?” 

Wide-eyed, Yoongi stares at him, his even features distorted by agony and rage. 

“No. Of course, not. She’s not the one to blame here. I— I get it. I get it now.” He stammers, jaw clenched. “Why she hates me. And she’s right to stay away. Maybe it’s for the best. Knowing this, how could I ever see her again? How could I make her be with me? I must make her sick.” 

“No. Don’t say that, Hyung.” 

“But I’m sure it’s true. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Disappear from her life. I could never — How could you let me go to her, Tae? I — I can’t force this onto her. She must feel revolted by the idea of even being near me.”

Taehyung can see it in his eyes. Yoongi’s pain. His horror at the realization of what he most likely put you through. His misguided disgust with himself. 

“Yoongi, it’s not your fault.” He reaches for his hand, but Yoongi flinches, pulls it back under his blanket. 

“You didn’t know, Hyung. And her mother was just one case. One in a million. She was simply … weak. And you and y/n, you’re stronger. And she will realize that. Just give her a little time. Don’t give up just yet. Please”, he begs. But Yoongi seems unimpressed, cold even.

“I think you should go, Tae. I just want to sleep right now.” 

“If you really want me to leave, I —”

“Yes, I do”, Yoongi cuts him off, his tone harsh, as he already gets comfortable in a lying position, curled up into a ball. 

“Okay. I have to get to work anyway”, Taehyung sighs. “Have a good rest, Yoongi. And get better, soon. I’ll come by again tomorrow and I don’t care if you want me to or not. I’ll be here.”

“Whatever”, Yoongi grumbles, by now having been entirely swallowed up by his blanket. 

“Bye, Yoongi. And it’s not over, okay? Don’t forget that.” 

As soon as he is sure Taehyung has left, Yoongi kicks off his blanket, his limbs as restless as his thoughts. 

Being aware of what you went through and must be going through right now, how could he just stay here? Lying in bed? Sleeping, as if everything was right in the world? When it clearly isn’t? 

No. Merely putting up with the way things are and playing dead isn’t an option any longer. 

Yoongi has to think. To clear his head. And he can’t do that here. Not in this room full of the sick and dying with nurse Oh watching him as closely as if he is about to burn this whole place down. 

No. He has to get out of here. To get moving. To sort out his thoughts and figure out the right thing to do in this kind of situation. If such a thing even exists. And in order to do so, he needs to talk to somebody. 

Yoongi is curious what Jimin has to say to all this as he makes his way towards Taehyung’s apartment in the refreshing cold of the early morning hours.

END OF CHAPTER 18 || TO BE CONTINUED

Thank you for reading! I hope you like the series so far and this chapter didn’t disappoint. 😌

Here you can find my Masterlist in case you feel like checking out more of my BTS fiction.

Also, if you have Spotify, you can listen to the ‘official’ 🎶 playlist 🎶 to the ‘Linked’ series here. It contains all the songs having been sent back and forth between Yoongi and the reader in the past and some more tunes fitting the series’ vibe.  

Take care and have a great day! ☺️💖