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[intro-myg]

heart & seoul | prologue

✿o1: [Prologue] Field of Dreams.

✿pairing: yoongi/reader

✿au: soulmate!au – soulmates share memories through dreams, but are unable to see each other’s faces.

✿word count: 1329

✿an: i’m rewriting this joint because i wasn’t satisfied with how the other version was going. there’s something more satisfying about actually typing up a chapter in a word processing program lol.

-

To my soulmate,

Who I cross fields of dreams to share a single moment with.

How is it possible to miss someone you’ve never met before?

I’m not entirely sure, but I do know that I miss you.

-

Dreams.

An infinite collection of all the should-bes, would-bes, will-bes, and what-ifs imaginable. Each possibility is like stardust, faintly speckled across the cosmos of your mind. Is there a possibility that there is a link between dreams and reality? A window for one to take just a glimpse of their deepest desires, fears, victories, and defeats? Can your dreams truly lead you to your own destiny, whether it be a what, when, where, or a who?

Everyone knew about the possibility of seeing one’s own soulmate in their dreams. Whether or not it were true, was still debated upon. Some people swore up and down that it was real, and most sane people just wrote it off as an old maid’s tale, a notion equally as preposterous as the sun revolving around the earth.

Min Yoongi wasn’t entirely sure that these weren’t old maid’s tales.

Just as seven o’clock arrived in Seoul, Yoongi’s back hit the soft mattress back at his apartment after another sleepless night. In one of Seoul’s premier townhouses, Yoongi lay alone in the dark. Faint streaks of light filtered in between his blackout curtains, dimly illuminating part of his bedroom. His deep brown eyes focused on the dust particles that swirled in the open air.

He inhaled deeply, and counted backwards from 10.

9—if he listened closely, he could hear the leaves of the trees in the nearby grove, some breaking away and catching the fall breeze. Reds, oranges and golds swarm together in a colorful dance as old as the changing seasons.

8—the faint hum of the commotion downstairs—most likely Jin and Jungkook in the kitchen or possibly Taehyung playing music nearby—shook some of the picture frames on Yoongi’s wall.

7—his phone lights up, and he ignores it. It’s his day off, and he was planning on spending it how he normally does. Asleep.

6—one of Yoongi’s last thoughts were a melody he had yet to complete. Perhaps he’ll find inspiration once he wakes.

5—with heavy eyelids, Yoongi succumbs to his fatigue. Sleep has always come easy to him.

4—whether or not it is a dream he has yet to actually determine, but for now, he’ll treat it as he sees it: a reoccurring dream with the same exact person in the same exact place. He’s been in this place before; hundreds of times, each trip more exhilarating than the last.

3—from the darkness emerges the faint sound of jazz, accompanied with typical hip-hop beats and the clicking of fingertips against a keyboard.

2— Below, Yoongi can just barely make out the humming of car engines below and the rumbling of a nearby train. This new yet familiar space that Yoongi has visited so many times gives off a variety of scents, all of which Yoongi has grown to love over the years. Street food from the open window, sandalwood from the nearby candle that never seemed to stop burning, leather from the sofa he could feel beneath him, and something else. Someone else.

1—he squeezed his eyes, exhaled, and opened.

Light filled what was once his dimmed bedroom, revealing an entirely brand-new space. It wasn’t at all like his luxury apartment complex in Seoul; this place has a smaller quaint charm about it. The nearly blank wall of his room was replaced with a brick wall cluttered with random knickknacks and decorations. Old wooden picture frames sat on a few shelves nearby, filled with faces he’d grown to know over the years, but would never be able to actually see in person.

His feet pivoted towards the center of the studio, soundlessly crossing the wooden floors (he was sure they’d squeak under his weight if he were actually there.) The largest window of the room revealed an endless cityscape, expanding outwards towards the sea and upwards towards the sky. The city’s skyline cast a brilliant glow in the night air, creating a shine comparable to that of the full moon.

Another breeze drifted in through the opened window, carrying in the scent and sounds of the city below. It wasn’t anything like Seoul, and yet Yoongi loved it all the same.

He admired the view for another brief moment, and continued towards the center of the room like he did in every dream. There was only one other occupant in the room, completely unaware of Yoongi’s presence.

“Hey,” Yoongi muttered in greeting, despite knowing that there was no way she saw that he was even there to begin with.

She sat in her usual spot, curled up on the end of the couch, a laptop in her lap. She typed furiously; a typical night for her. Yoongi wasn’t too sure what the time was. Nearby, her dog slept by the coffee table, their snores almost thunderous in the quiet studio. It’d been a few years since she’d moved into this place, but Yoongi knew that she loved it here.

From his limited knowledge of her language, she’d spoken about it enough times.

He also knew that this apartment had been her dream apartment since she was young. He knew a lot about the girl on the couch, though he wasn’t entirely sure why she’d made so many appearances in his dreams.

He first dreamt of Dream Girl—that’s what he calls her—when he was 6 years old, a mere elementary schooler. His first meeting with her had been rather traumatic. She’d been up in a tree when one of the branches snapped beneath her feet, sending her to the ground in a rather painful heap.

Her mother had to take her to the hospital, as she had broken her arm from the fall.

From then on, almost every time he dreamt, he’d managed to unlock a door and make his way into her world. Dream Girl. In the beginning, it was a bit embarrassing for him to spend so much time around one girl, especially since he wasn’t too forthcoming with his female classmates at school.

She was loud and boisterous and clumsy and chaotic, a fairly typical happy-go-lucky child.  The first few times he’d met her, Yoongi would wake up with a pounding headache, her loud laughter still ringing in his ears. To be honest, it drove him insane and he wanted nothing more than to find this annoying girl, shake her, and tell her to stop laughing because the joke wasn’t even funny to begin with.

One thing he found even more maddening than Dream Girl’s loud presence was her lack of a face. When he met her, her face looked as if someone had smudged it out with their thumb. She was someone who was totally faceless to Yoongi.

And yet, he probably knew her better than anybody else.

He wasn’t exactly sure how to process that information as a teen, and he downright refused to focus on it once he left his home for Seoul. Visions of Dream Girl helped him through grueling pre-debut practices, unsuccessful songwriting sessions, and those lonely nights where he wanted nothing else to do than just disappear for a few hours.

Yoongi folded his feet up underneath his body, watching intently as Dream Girl finished typing up her paragraph.

It was the calmest he’d felt in a few days.

-

To my soulmate,

Whose words never exactly fully convey what you mean.

I see you.

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