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gold-eye · 2 months

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the importance of breath in the dragon prince

Spoilers for Season 6 of the Dragon Prince.

Breath, by its nature, is everywhere in the world of storytelling. But what I've noticed throughout the show—especially in S6—is that the importance of breath really

There's a few different mechanisms that I see. The first: breath as balance and reflection.

We learn relatively early in the season that Callum's biological father, Damian, was a poet—a man who struggled with a "terrible breathing sickness" for his entire life. Meanwhile, Callum's magic has always been derived from breath. The first spell he cast (back in S1 with the Primordial Stone) was Aspiro—from aspirare in Latin, literally "to breathe." When he recovers his magic in S2, the first spell he casts is once again Aspiro.

That reflection of father and son is poetic in its own right, but it becomes even more significant when you consider that there is a genetic component to many respiratory conditions, from asthma to more complex respiratory conditions. We see breath take its toll on Callum: he's the first to collapse and struggle to breathe due to the thin air while climbing to Zubeia's lair, and Rayla catching Callum after a breath-based spell is so common that I've seen several posts dedicated to it.

So much of his magic is derived from breath, but that magic is where Callum finds his purpose. Callum has been open about the fact that he struggled with finding a sense of confidence and belonging as a child. When he lost his magic, it was like losing a part of himself—and those who know grief knows how it can feel like a punch to the lungs. When he acts as a mage, utilizing his breath as his power, it feels right. It feels like he's able to breathe. Every time he accesses magic, whether it's his own or another (like Star Magic during the ceremony in S6), Callum breathes it in like a man drowning.

Callum and Damian are linked by blood, by genetics, even possibly by the same respiratory condition in different degrees. And therein lies the greatest balance of all: the thing that killed his father—breath—is the very thing that gives Callum life.

We see another application of breath as balance, though on a slightly darker point. Like Damian, Soren was also born a child that struggled to breathe (though we don't know if the two had the same condition). As a result, Viren took the last breath of Kpp'Ar for the very chance that his son might be able to breathe.

Unlike Callum and Damian, that exchange of breath was far more intentional, and its result was far more detrimental. Soren was finally able to breathe, but Viren turned cold towards him. And at the same time, that gift of breath was the first step that Viren took towards his use of dark magic—which, as we know, had numerous implications over the course of the series.

The second mechanism is partially derived from the first, breaking down breath into inhalation and exhalation: acceptance and release.

This is something that is the most evident at beginnings and ends, which one would typically link to inhalations and exhalations respectively, but that is not always the case. We see different applications of this throughout the series, though I'll focus heavily on S6:

In the Starscraper, when Rayla and Callum redo their reunion meeting, Rayla exhales sharply. It's a steadying thing; it seems to signify a release of nerves, of anxiety, of all the fears she'd had leading up to that point.

Zubeia's first discernable breath when she wakes up in S3 is (to my ears) an exhale: a release of all the pain and grief that she had felt.

When Rayla says goodbye to Tiadrin and Lain in the Moon Nexus portal, they both tilt their heads upwards—the movement echoing one last inhale. For them, it is acceptance of their own death, of their departure—something that they hadn't truly realized up until that point. But for the two of them, Dragonguards until their last breath in both worlds, it's also acceptance that they have passed on their role to their daughter: the next generation of Dragonguard. (Bonus: Rayla exhales right before she tells the two that she has to let them go: one last release. It's not a release of her love for them, which is something that she may never let go, but it is a release for her pain—something she'd kept locked up for so long.

When Runaan turns into the flower for Rayla, you can hear an exhale in the music. For him, this is a release of all the pain and fear that he'd had, all the regret of attacking his daughter. Once Runaan has been returned to his form, he inhales again, accepting the role of her parent. He inhales hard, and it sounds almost painful—and in some ways, I think it has to be. In that moment, he accepts that their past is a part of their present: that even though both of them have done things that they regret, they still share the same bond.

As Sol Regem dies, he does not breathe in: he can't, since he is choking. He cannot accept what he has done to his mate. Instead, he tries to exhale, tries to release his grief and pain, but without the balance of acceptance, all it can do is burn him from within: in this case, in the most literal of ways. (Bonus: Sol Regem also inhales to see if Aaravos is telling the truth. He can smell the truth from a lie, and what is the first step to acceptance if not the truth?)

After casting the Hearts of Cinder spell, Viren inhales as soon as he's done casting the spell, perhaps accepting that he is a servant of the people—and of course, his last breath is a release of a lifetime of pain.

Of course, this isn't an exclusive list, and there's plenty more, but these are some of the ones that have stuck in my memory.

This balance of inhalation and exhalation even applies to the mechanics of magic in the world, with inhalation and exhalation being more directly reflective of giving and taking. (Mechanism number three!)

The elves of Xadia breathe through their magic. (Callum too!) Magic comes as naturally to them as the air in their very lungs. We see this most obviously in the warriors: they let out a cry, emptying their lungs as they activate their primal magic. Janai stands out in my memory, since we see her fight often throughout the series. The six primordial sources: these are a magic of giving, of life. It is a release. The elves don't have to constrain themselves; instead, they are their truest selves when they are in touch with that primordial power.

Dark magic is not so natural, as the show reiterates, and to be honest, it often sounds painful. The words of spells are reversed, but when we hear Claudia and Viren complete spells, it sounds almost as though they are inhaling through the words. They are, in the most literal of senses, taking through the dark magic. It twists the acceptance of an inhale by turning magic from something freely flowing into something that is taken—accepted by the one who takes, but not released by the being that gives.

All of this results in one world where breath connects everything. It lives in every human, elf, and being: the essence of the sky connecting everything.

#the dragon prince #tdp #tdp s6 spoilers #tdp spoilers #tdp s6 #tdp season 6 #tdp callum #tdp rayla #tdp season 6 spoilers

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zenaidamacrouras1 · 2 years

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Writing Modern Steve Roger's Health Issues: A compendium

AKA How do Steve Rogers' MCU canon illnesses hold up in a modern setting?

I am writing something that is SO NICHE and so NERDY I feel absolutely, positively deviant about it. Who knew you could have this much fun while eating a burrito and sitting in the sun on your back porch?

OKAY! This one goes out to all of you writing modern AU's with a modern Steve Rogers. (There are literally dozens of us!). Let's go.

So, I find it somewhat problematic when people write disabled or otherwise medically complicated characters and are wishy-washy about the diagnosis they have. In real life, everyone I know with ongoing medical issues is a fucking expert on their exact shit. A great tumblr reference for disabled characters is Cripple Characters, but I also use reddit threads to read about people’s day to day experiences with different issues in their own words. If nothing else, just decide what your character has and take ten minutes and read through a basic website article about it.

So let's walk through what modern Steve's medical history and diagnoses might be. If you feel like I missed any details or got things wrong, happy to have comments to that end.

We'll start with the list of “ailments,” going with the MCU canon and combining the images from the museum exhibit and screen shots of Steve’s enlistment forms:

Asthma

Scoliosis

Fallen arches

Partial deafness

Scarlet Fever, Rheumatic Fever

Heart arrhythmia

High blood pressure

Palpitation or pounding in heart

Easy fatigability

Stomach ulcers

Pernicious anemia

Nervous trouble of any sort

Sinusitis

Chronic or frequent colds

Caveat: I am not a doctor, but I am a person who enjoys reading medical journal articles about illnesses I do and don’t have. The human body is a fascinating and terrible place to live. Talk to me about your medical complications - I will always find them interesting. I love small talk about Crohn’s disease and/or extremely graphic details about the time you had surgery because one of your wrist bones was the wrong length.

Sucks To Your Assmar: Asthma! How has asthma changed?

Kids who have their asthma well managed at a young age are going to have less scarring and lung damage (this is called airway remodeling). Thus a modern kid will likely have less severe asthma than a kid born in Steve’s time. Further, allergy medicines got way better from the 1990s, so kids with allergy induced asthma would have had fewer attacks. Fewer attacks as kids = less severe asthma as they age.

I would also note that asthma is highly connected to environmental issues. If Steve grew up in a house with cigarette smoke, cockroaches, rats, or mold present, as is fairly easy to imagine, especially without dehumidifiers in a swampy Brooklyn summer, those are environmental factors that would have made his asthma much worse.

They are also all factors that kids today certainly face, depending on how you write your modern Steve’s childhood. While people today certainly can have very severe asthma, it’s also entirely possible that modern Steve’s relationship to his asthma is pretty chill and easy to manage. (My partner has relatively severe asthma with a lot of environmental triggers; modern allergy medicine was a big game changer.)

Let’s talk about scoliosis ~~

There are a lot of variations to how scoliosis impacts people. I have very minor scoliosis and it's barely a thing in my life. I’m not trying to speak for everyone, but for what it’s worth, there are professional athletes with spinal fusion. I used Kyra Condie as my justification for writing climbing coach post-spinal fusion small Steve Rogers in one fic. My younger brother and best friend in high school both had spinal fusions.

In reality the athletic and physical abilities of people with spinal fusion vary pretty much exactly as much as people without spinal fusion, so you have a lot of leeway for how you decide to write a character with scoliosis. I recommend reddit threads to read about people talking about how their bodies felt before and after spinal fusion, or why they decided not to have the surgery, if you want to get a sense of how it might affect your character’s day to day life.

Wait, so how tall is modern small Steve Rogers?

You can see in this article that gains in height post scoliosis corrective surgery/spinal fusion varies, but the mean was 27 mm (1 inch) and the maximum was 66 mm (2.5 inches).

The more severe the curve in the spine, the more height gained with surgery.

We know Steve had scoliosis, we don’t know how severe it was (do we?). But if he was 5’4” without spinal fusion, and with all of his childhood fevers, and possible poor nutrition due to the Great Depression and untreated stomach ulcers, then it’s very reasonable that a modern Steve raised with proper nutrition and his gastrointestinal issues (see below!) properly treated and a spinal fusion could be easily 1-10 inches taller.

I think it’s great if you want to write modern Small Steve as 5’4” - but I tend to write him as 5’7” or so.

I think it is entirely likely that a modern Steve Rogers could end up being 6 feet tall given modern medical intervention and a healthy digestive system and adequate nutrition. As an example of how people with more or less the same genetics having different heights due to environmental factors, I know of one family of four brothers that immigrated from Italy in the 40s. Their height was 100% correlated to their age when they moved to the US/started having access to food: the oldest brother was around 5’4” and the youngest around 6 feet. The oldest was also a chain smoker and worked full time from around age 8, so you know, he was a fucking badass 5'4" Italian guy, if that's not clear.

What about fallen arches?

Fun story, but I have fallen arches/flat feet and had a lot of foot pain as a kid, but I thought it was normal. I wear custom orthotics and/or birkenstocks and do exercises to strengthen my feet muscles and it's fine now as long as I remember to do the things I just mentioned. My dad had to have multiple surgeries on his feet, so I think it helped that they caught it earlier in me.

Should I write modern non-serum Steve as deaf?

Maybe! I think it’s lovely when people write characters with hearing issues. There are great blogs that cover ways to do that well (a good link, another one, and another one and I think this one on hearing aids is particularly good if you are trying to bring in subtle day to day routine differences a character that wears hearing aids may have. Another great option is, again, reddit, especially for questions around how sexual intimacy might vary in small ways that can be nice to bring in. (I am working on a fic with a seeing character whose ex is blind and also read a lot of couples first hand experience with sexual intimacy around that dynamic on reddit).

But how likely is it that modern Steve would be deaf?

I think that it’s reasonably likely that Steve’s hearing issues were a result of Scarlet Fever, which is a bacterial infection that can result in rheumatic fever, an inflammatory condition that develops in more severe cases of scarlet fever.

Scarlet fever caused deafness - in fact, both Helen Keller and Thomas Edison had hearing loss due to scarlet fever infections. Further, sustained fevers of over 104 degrees can also cause hearing loss, so there is a reasonable chance that some other fever caused Steve’s hearing issues.

Today, the kind of hearing loss caused by fevers and infections can usually be surgically repaired or never occur because we have better antibiotics and better medicines to treat fevers. However, I have a friend who has partial hearing loss and lots of other life long nervous system and fatigue issues due to complications from childhood chicken pox in the 80s (this vaccine came around in 1995).

I don’t know if it’s canon or fanfiction, but I often see Steve as having one bad ear. For what it’s worth, hearing loss in one ear is much less common than hearing loss in both ears.

However, potential causes of hearing loss in one ear are infections that result in a high fever and some kind of head trauma, both of which are easy to imagine would have affected a Steve born in 1918, and while possible in a modern Steve, also easier to avoid.

Heart Stuff: Heart arrhythmia, High blood pressure, Palpitation of pounding in heart, Easy fatigability

The aforementioned fevers that can cause hearing loss can also cause heart issues. I think it’s reasonably likely that Steve’s heart issues were from his fevers as a young kid, but I often write him with a congenital heart defect, because why not?

These days, most of the time, such issues are detected at or before birth and fixed when the person is a baby, but there are plenty of heart issues that can require multiple heart surgeries at various points. Regardless, a modern Steve would most likely either have had access to corrective surgery or medication to manage these heart conditions. Which is not to say that he wouldn’t suffer mental and physical trauma from this medical complication.

There are plenty of professional athletes you can find who have all of the above heart issues. And plenty of people with heart issues who have no interest in being professional athletes, so like, follow your bliss.

Digestive System Stuff: Easy fatigability, Stomach ulcers, Pernicious anemia

I have easy fatigability under heart stuff too, because lots of shit can make you tired.

My personal head canon is that Steve Rogers has celiac disease and/or lactose intolerance, it would cause all of the above. Both can also lead to poor growth - in fact falling off growth charts is one of the most common symptoms of celiac disease in children.

While people have been aware of celiac disease since there were people, gluten wasn’t identified as the clear cause till the 50s.

I typically write modern Steve with some kind of food allergy, and I think that addresses quite a few of his canon medical complications.

Because so many causes of this category of symptoms are relatively easily solved with modern medical intervention/avoiding the problem, I would point folks towards Crohn’s disease if you are looking to write a modern character with medical issue that is more likely to be an ongoing source of similar medical complications today.

(Also, kids with Crohn’s are likely to have reduced height. I have a friend who has Crohn's whose 3 siblings are well over 6 feet and he is around 5'8" (so 4-6 inches aka 11+ cm shorter due to his severe childhood illness).)

Nervous trouble of any sort

Kids with medical complications and food allergies are much more likely to have anxiety. I’m so proud of all the kids making it through the day with anxiety. Luff you anxiety kids, I see you working twice as hard to be present as the non-anxious kids. Tough as hell. Give yourself a high five. I’m so damn proud of you.

Sinusitis and Frequent colds

I mean, god bless modern decongestants and allergy meds. Celiac disease and lactose intolerance can both cause sinus issues, so here is another one of Steve's ailments that can be "cured" through that diagnosis.

Other stuff

When you look at the above, you can see a lot of scenarios where modern era Steve, like many children/adults today, had multiple surgeries and serious and scary health complications as a child, but as an adult would appear as a relatively healthy able bodied person, with the possibility of even becoming a top athlete if he was so inclined. It’s also likely that some issues like chronic fatigue etc, might linger into adulthood as relatively invisible illnesses that nonetheless affect his everyday.

In some ways his character arc given the advances of modern medicine could mimic his arc due to the serum.

Being medically complicated as a kid sucks. Even if you have surgeries to treat and/or learn how to live with things like Crohn’s and celiac and reduce flare ups, lingering mental health trauma can have an impact.

Lastly and most importantly, I have a personal headcanon that young Steve Rogers of any era spent a lot of time sick in bed and staring into a mirror learning how to raise one eyebrow and perform other eyebrow gymnastics so he could more effectively sass his nurses.

IN CONCLUSION:

I think it's actually reasonable for an author to say, "My modern Steve never had any fevers, and got his severe lactose intolerance diagnosed as a baby, and had good nutrition, had medications/clean environment that prevented his asthma."

So this Steve is 6 feet tall and healthy as long as he doesn't eat dairy and takes his daily zyrtec (cetirizine - it's an allergy med). The only medical issue he has from canon left is scoliosis, flat feet, and an astigmatism.

You can also choose to write a Steve with more complex medical issues, and there are lots of things that can be good and interesting and value about that. I think the main thing is to pick a diagnosis and write it realistically, hopefully this helps some with that!

#stucky fanfiction #smol steve #writing disability #steve roger #pre serum steve rogers #modern steve rogers #honestly whats wrong with me #I don't even know but I feel like I'm dealing with my mental illnesses well enough and I had fun writing this #meta #headcanon #stony fanfiction

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violetsiren90 · 1 year

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All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 2 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon x f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; Talk and depictions of cancer, its treatment, and the symptoms of both; implication of some disregard for personal agency by entertainment and medical industries; MC is diagnosed with asthma and experiences symptoms; flashbacks of a distressing situation; soulmate first touch & subsequent skinship; partial disrobing for medical purposes; medical setting and minor treatments; some social awkwardness; talk of food, eating, and alcohol consumption in the context of a soulmate AU

Author's Note: Chapter 2 is here! I tried my best to write Namjoon's response under the circumstances, but honestly I don't know how well it was executed. Let me know what you think in the comments/asks! I'm super open to constructive criticism and feedback. Also, I did my best with the Korean phrases and medical jargon. If anyone has more extensive knowledge on those subjects and wants to fact-check, please let me know!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"At night I dream that you and I are two plants that grew together, roots entwined, and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth, since we are made of earth and rain.”

~ Pablo Neruda

Chapter 2: Touching Me, Touching You

When you touched down at Incheon International Airport, you and Matt were greeted by a rather unnecessarily large party of Hybe personnel in black plainclothes wearing masks who snatched up your baggage and ushered you into the first of a small fleet of black SUV's. The member of the legal advisory team who had visited you in the states, Choi Kang Dae, was riding shotgun and speaking into a cell phone that had not left his ear since departing the baggage claim. In the row behind you was another man you assumed to be a translator, given his fluency in English, but who was currently chopping it up with Matt in Korean, and beside him a large, serious, silent man whose eyes kept traveling to you every now and again. You assumed that meant that the rest of the ensemble filling the vehicles behind you were security, which somehow made you feel less rather than more at ease.

The further you advanced in traffic through the busy streets of Seoul, the more anxious you became. A thousand questions began to flood your brain as your heart began to hammer in your chest. If all these people had come to meet you, were you headed to the hospital now? Weren't you supposed stop at your accommodations first? If you didn't, would you even have a chance to shower a day's worth of airport off before meeting your soulmate? Were you about to bond right now? Would people be watching? Would it hurt? Why hadn't you ever thought of these things before? You felt a familiar tightness in your chest and pulled out your inhaler. An asthma attack right now? They always seemed to strike at the most inopportune times.

Matt was suddenly turning to you.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, looking at the inhaler you were shaking for a second puff.

You slowly exhaled and nodded.

"I'm fine. But where are we going right now, can you ask them?"

The translator asked the Kang Dae something in Korean, and after he responded, the other man turned to you.

"We're going to the hospital. Namjoon-ssi had a seizure last night due to a prolonged high-grade fever, so we are trying to act as quickly as possible to avoid further complications."

Matt turned to the translator.

"This should have been the first thing we heard when we stepped off that plane. I'm not trying to play hardball here, but we're going to have to be communicated with about every step of this process so we can decide how we're going to respond. This was in the contract, communication and a chance to speak with me before she makes any step in this process..."

Matt slipped in and out of English as the attorney apologetically reassured him through the translator of their full intent to follow the contractual specifications. You felt sick, and your heart continued to hammer - though now for different reasons. You had been worried about a shower while he was fighting for his life. This was no time for nerves. You had to fight for his life too.

When the vehicle pulled into the ambulance bay, you and Matt were handed surgical masks and ushered, with security and other Hybe personnel in tow, through the ICU and into a massive steel elevator. You watched the round button number "5" light up red as Kang Dae pushed it with a gloved hand. After the brief assent, the doors opened into a space that looked like it was straight out of a Star Trek episode - floor to ceiling white, blinding fluorescent lights, and hospital workers covered from head to toe in sterile garments ebbing and flowing in urgent silence to and fro to the rhythmic serenading hums and beeps of medical equipment. You blinked in the offending brightness.

Your party was immediately approached by a small woman with a tablet and stylus who addressed Kang Dae. You heard your name mentioned. You heard Matt's. After a brief exchange with the Hybe attorney, Matt relayed that you were going to meet with Namjoon's oncologist. Kang Dae turned to address the security staff, and his words were met with nods and murmurs of acknowledgment except by the tall, serious man from the SUV, who responded to the attorney in a low but firm tone, his eyes flashing over to you as he spoke. You looked over to Matt, your brow creased in question. He watched as Kang Dae concluded the exchange and lead your now small group of four to follow the petite woman down a long, wide hall. As you walked, Matt leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"It appears the indignant gentleman is your personal bodyguard. Seems he's reluctant to stay behind with the rest of security."

You glanced in surprised curiosity over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of the guard seated beside the rest of the team, elbows propped on his knees and hands clasped under his chin, a pensive expression on his rugged features, before he disappeared from view as you rounded a bend.

The hall connected to a labyrinth of others, snaking off left and right, and punctuated with massive, heavy doors. Your guide abruptly swung left to face one of the entrees, flashing a badge card across a sensor which beeped, allowing her to push it inward. It opened into a suite of rooms much homier than the atmosphere behind you, though every bit as sterile.

In the vestibule was a small acrylic table surrounded by matching chairs. As you passed through you noted to the right, a small kitchenette, and to the left a rather large bathroom. At the end of the suite, you shuffled into a large room, separated on the far left end by a curtain. The space in which you stood was fitted with grey leather furniture, a tall bamboo plant in the corner, and a low acrylic coffee-table. An older, distinguished looking man in a white jacket stood from where he had been seated in one of the arm chairs and bowed. Your group bowed in return, and the translator asked that you be seated.

Dr. Na, as the man in the coat was introduced, would run through some last matters with you before you were to meet your soulmate. He relayed through the translator that this hospital was state of the art, Korea's finest, and a frontrunner in successful experimental treatments for cancer and other genetic diseases. The room you were occupying, he said, was a suite meant for long-term inpatient care, and would be nearly identical to the space you would share with Namjoon for the remainder of his inpatient treatment. He explained that Namjoon's condition has been detected far later than was desirable, and that treatments had included invasive surgery and aggressive rounds of chemotherapy, which had slowed, but not stopped the spread of tumors throughout his body. He said that Namjoon had displayed extreme physical and emotional resilience, but that his will to fight the disease overtaking his body had begun to wane with his strength and increasingly burdensome symptoms from both the cancer and its treatment.

At this point, Dr. Na turned to face Matt full on, and earnestly imparted to him while gesticulating at you. Matt's brow furrowed, and he nodded as he listened to the oncologist before turning serious eyes toward you. Kang Dae began to say something, but the doctor held up his hand while also turning his eyes toward you with an expectant gaze.

"Y/n," Matt began, interlacing his fingers as he often did when trying to choose his words carefully, "Dr. Na says that there is not a lot of research around treating cancer, especially at such an advanced stage, with the soulmate bond. There are accounts of it having seemingly miraculous effects on injury and illness, but none that have been objectively measured. It has been scientifically proven to a degree that soulmates bring about peak physical conditions in one another through the bond...over time. The thing the good doctor here really wants you to understand is that there is no guarantee that there is enough time in our situation. He says that bonding with him is going to be a major risk. If the treatment isn't successful and Namjoon should pass, that would mean your ultimate death soon after."

Matt's face had lost most of its stoicism. He looked deeply worried. He looked like he wanted you to get on a plane with him back to the States. He looked like he knew what you were going to do instead. You see, you had already thought about it - the possibility of death. You nodded.

"Tell him I understand, Matt," you said calmly, "Tell him I'd like to meet Namjoon-ssi."

Matt stared at you for a beat, as if debating with himself before turning back to relay your message to Dr. Na. The oncologist nodded, and then turned to you and asked another question in Korean. The translator explained that the doctor wanted to know if you understood the basic implications of the soul-bond. You sighed. You did. You knew that once bonded you would be reliant on each other for nourishment and survival until the end of your natural lives, and that the bond once established was irreversible. You knew the bond was initiated and maintained through skin-to-skin contact. You knew that the bond changed your body chemistry to no longer need food or water, and that food would eventually be rejected by the body like poison. You knew these things because you had done extensive research, not because anyone in the company asking for you to give over your body and soul had tried to make you aware. They had been interested in matters of signatures and compensation. How considerate of someone to ask you now, you thought with some contempt. You wondered what Namjoon knew, what he had been told, what he had been asked.

"I would like to meet my soulmate now," you said suddenly, cutting through the exchange between Dr. Na and Kang Dae.

All eyes turned on you, leaving in half-finished sentences a wake of mild surprise. "I know what I'm getting into on my end of things. You had expressed before that time was of the essence and I would like to be brought to him now."

Matt relayed your response to the group, and the doctor nodded. Soon you were being handed a hospital gown, and a sports bra, underwear, and socks from your suitcase - that you realized with a bit of alarm and indignation, you had not given anyone permission to retrieve - and were instructed to shower and change into these items.

You slipped into the bathroom and sank down on the closed toilet, dropping your head onto the little bundle of clothes in your arms. In your first few moments alone in over twenty-four hours, everything was beginning to hit like a volley of arrows. Agendas, agendas. Hybe wanted your soulmate. The hospital wanted to beat his cancer. You wanted to help him live. But what did he want? Had anyone asked? Would he be honest, if they did? Not for the first time, something squeezed in your chest at the thought of him. But this time, it was stronger. Your head shot up from your lap. You had somewhere to be.

After a quick and thorough wash-up, you padded into the hall where the little group awaited you. You were self-conscious in your limited attire, and you stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the next as people murmured in Korean. A nurse, who had joined the small throng, approached you, slipping a hospital bracelet with your name and Hangul characters and little numbers around your wrist and handing you a pair of grey slippers. Matt turned to you.

"This is it, kiddo. You're going to go with Dr. Na and have your vitals taken, have some blood drawn, and then you'll go meet him."

Matt sighed deeply, his eyes searching yours. He took a backward glance and stepped just a bit closer, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"You sure about this?"

You nodded.

"Yes, Matt, I'm sure."

He pulled his mouth in into a tense line, his brows drawing together.

"That face you're making, that defiance in your eyes," his hand fell from your shoulder, "You could be his twin. I know I can't change your mind now. Nothing could."

You gave a knowing smile. He wasn't wrong.

"I'm gonna be okay, Matt. I'll see you tomorrow. Call my mom and tell her things went fine. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Matt scratched the back of his head, regarding you thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. He bent to press a kiss to your forehead, and turned to make his polite goodbyes.

The nurse ushered you down the hall and into a room that looked a little more like a typical hospital room with a gauze-covered table, a scale, and other vaguely familiar machines and equipment. After she had collected the desired data and taken a vial of your blood, she made a page in Korean, and then motioned for you to follow her. She took you down another series of passages and finally, when you were sure Theseus himself couldn't have found his way back, she stopped in front of a large steel door and scanned her badge.

Room number 594.

The door opened on its heavy hinges, swinging slowly inward. Your heart was hammering in your chest. You realized the moment you crossed the threshold that you didn't have your things. You didn't have your phone, or your bag, or the book that was inside it, or what was between the pages of the book.

You thought about pear-shaped Italian cheese as you crossed through the kitchen area.

You thought about little Diana trying to stop your mother from crying as she lay on the floor of the kitchen, body shaking with sobs, as you moved into large open room at the end of the suite.

And then, there he was. It was all you could do not to gasp.

You would never have recognized him for the man in the photo Diana had shoved into your face last week. Sitting propped up in a large hospital bed, he was covered up to the waist in blankets. His frame, though unmistakably large, was gaunt, and his white tee draped around him like something that used to fit - patches and wires visible across his chest through the cotton fabric. His long arms were thinner than they should have been, ashy, and littered with bruises. His head leaned back against the pillows, he wore a black beanie low on his brow, but not low enough to hide the naked skin where his eyebrows had been. His full lips were chapped and parted as he labored somewhat to breathe. The doctor was speaking to a tall man in a black tee and jeans beside the bed. Namjoon was watching them, until, suddenly, his gaze flicked to you. Your breath caught in your chest. His eyes were unchanged. Something flooded your veins.

"I need to speak with Namjoon-ssi, please," you said abruptly, turning to the doctor and the man beside him.

They looked at you, quizzically. You cleared your throat to speak again, slower and more firmly.

"Could I be alone with him, for a moment? I need to speak with him before we begin."

The doctor turned to say something to the tall man, but a voice from the hospital bed addressed them in a soft, deep timbre. The tall man glanced at you and then at Namjoon and replied. They held a short exchange before both he and the doctor filed reluctantly out of the room, taking the nurse with them.

Namjoon sat further up in the bed, his face contorting in pain as you approached him. You stood a few feet from where he sat, your hands inexplicably itching to reach out for him. You clasped them behind your back.

"Hello," he, rasped.

Even the hoarseness couldn't hide the warmth of his voice. You thought his eyes and his voice must be made of the very same stuff. You were suddenly a different kind of nervous. You didn't even register your own initiative to speak as the question came tumbling out.

"Do you want to live?"

Your soulmate blinked in surprise.

"What?"

You took a breath and repeated yourself, this time with intention.

"Do you want to live?" You asked again. "I know there are plenty of people who want you too, but I want to know what you want."

He regarded you in intent silence for a long moment.

"Yes," he said finally, his cadence thoughtful and deliberate, "Yes, I want to live. I wasn't sure I did, but I do. I do now."

You exhaled a little breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

"Okay, good," you nodded, looking away from his intent gaze as you fought, again, the surging urge to reach for him.

His lips quirked into a little smirk at your reaction.

"I was going to ask you a question too, but after introductions," those eyes caught yours again, teasingly, and the little smile deepened just a bit, pressing a dimple into his sunken cheek.

The misery he was living in and he was teasing you? You felt something flutter a little in your chest which you willed yourself to ignore.

"I'm sorry," you bit back a smile, glancing away a bit bashfully, "I just needed to know that you had agency over what was happening here, that it was what you wanted. If no one else was going to give you that choice...well, I was."

He regarded you silently again before addressing you.

"It's good to meet you, Y/n-ssi. I'm Kim Namjoon."

You couldn't suppress a smirk at his stubbornness, and at the fact that he already knew your name, like you knew his.

"It's good to meet you, too, Namjoon-ssi," you replied softly.

He suddenly leaned back in the bed, wincing, his chest heaving a bit. You looked over at the heart monitor that beeped beside him to see that his pulse was rising.

"Should I call in the doctor?" You asked in concern.

He shook his head weakly.

"Not yet," he pressed out, with effort. "I...need...to know..."

You stepped closer to hear him.

"Know what?" He closed his eyes , bringing a hand over his chest as the beeping slowed.

"You...could...die...trying to..." he broke into a bought of coughs that was obviously painful. Once he had caught his breath, he rasped, "Are you sure, Y/n-ssi?"

"Yes," you answered without hesitation. "Yes, I'm sure. This is my choice. I'm sure."

He opened his eyes. You held each other in a silent gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something. He didn't. He merely nodded and asked,

"You ready, then?"

You met his questioning gaze with a wry smile and what you hoped were steady eyes as you answered.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

After the staff had returned to the room, the tall man in plainclothes introduced himself as Sejin, Namjoon's manager. He gave you a deep bow, which you returned, thanking you in practiced English for agreeing to bond with the idol - something that made you uncomfortable all the way down to your bones, and which you tried to dismiss without being impolite. The doctor spoke to Namjoon at some length, gesticulating to you several times. Sejin nodded along as the nurse typed notes onto her tablet.

You felt a bit frustrated, being on the outside of what so immediately concerned you. You were on the verge of asking for Matt to be brought in when Namjoon turned to you.

"The doctor says that while he understands first touch is an intimate experience, that he and two nurses will need to be present to monitor my vitals. My heart is on the weaker side these days."

He looked almost contrite as he said it and your chest squeezed. You nodded understandingly. He might be your soulmate, but you knew this wasn't a meet-cute. This was clinical. What was about to happen between you was a treatment. The doctor continued, and a nurse came around the bed to where you stood and waited expectantly as Namjoon turned to you, this time with an unmistakably apologetic look on his drawn features.

"Dr. Na says that if first contact goes smoothly, we'll need to begin treatments aggressively, which means as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. I guess they want us both in just undergarments."

Ah, hence the hospital gown.

You felt heat creep up your neck. Under any other circumstances you would have been upset at the lack of privacy of it all, but these weren't like any circumstances you had ever been prepared to anticipate. You were going to have to figure the boundaries out as you went.

The nurse beside you rolled up a chair for you to sit in beside the bed, facing Namjoon. She untied and tugged the top of your hospital gown down to place a heart monitor on your chest, your soulmate respectfully averting his gaze.

When all the necessary preparations had been made, you found yourself sitting in a swivel chair cranked up to reach the height of the hospital bed, socked feet not touching the ground. You were facing Namjoon, who kept sitting forward, much to the chagrin of the nurses who kept gently but impatiently guiding him back against the pillows. You felt a sick feeling creep into the pit of your stomach as you glanced at the second nurse wheel in a defibrillator. How bad could this possibly be? Would it hurt? You steeled yourself as Namjoon sat forward again, turning up the palm of his large right hand which rested on the covers beside you.

"It's time," he murmured softly, eyes on you as you gave one more glance to the doctor, who nodded, and giving in to an urge you had kept at bay since you entered the room you slipped your hand into his.

A jolt shot through your body like an intense electric pulse. It hurt, like relentless aftershocks of overstimulation to sensitive flesh...and yet if felt good. So good. You had instinctively pulled to yank your hand away from the pure surprise of it, but you had tugged yourself back to no avail. You opened your eyes (you hadn't remembered closing them) to see Namjoon, head thrown back against the pillows, lips parted and eyes screwed shut as he clutched your hand in a vice grip. You glanced at the heart monitor spitting out beeps consistent with well over a hundred beats per minute. Was that yours or his? But you couldn't very well hold a coherent thought in your mind as warmth began to flood your body, followed by a tingling sensation that seemed to fizzle up from the base of your spine and trickle down your limbs.

Raising suddenly heavy eyes, you realized that you were swaying a bit on your feet. When did you stand? And you were much, much closer to Namjoon - your hand was curling around the base of his bicep, your elbow in his palm, as you pressed every possible square centimeter of your bare arm to his. His eyes were open now and he was looking at you as his chest rose and fell. You returned his gaze, unfocused, drunk on the sensations spreading through your being.

You blinked as you heard the doctor speak, but neither of you tore your eyes away, and as if in a trace, as the nurses helped you out of your clothes, and you crawled into the bed and slotted yourself against his side, stretching out your right arm to wrap around his torso. Every aspect of the feeling grew impossibly stronger, the pleasure factor so high that it felt somehow wrong to be experiencing this with a total stranger in a hospital room surrounded by others. You felt Namjoon let out a shuddering breath. His arms had snaked around you.

The last thing you remembered before falling into a delirium was the nurse pulling the covers over your bodies.

When you awoke, or rather, came to, you felt wrong. You rubbed hazy eyes to find yourself on a little cot. Before you could even wonder where you were or how you got there, the events of the previous day came flooding back.

Holy shit, you thought, you were in Korea. You had met your soulmate - and bonded with him.

When had you even fallen asleep? The last thing you remembered was climbing into Namjoon's bed. Your heartbeat quickened. First touch had been...something else. An image of your soulmate gripping your hand with his head thrown back flashed through your mind.

No, don't, you thought, and pushed yourself to sit up.

In your attempt to move, you quickly realized that the wrongness you felt was that you were incredibly weak. It was a strange sort of weakness, however, one that left you feeling exhausted with every tiny move but wasn't accompanied by any sort of discomfort. In fact, you felt like you were floating on a cloud, if only one you couldn't find the strength to roll off.

You were back in your hospital gown. There was a small table to your left with a lamp, a little vase of flowers, and white telephone. To your left was a machine much like the one you had seen beside Namjoon's bed beeping away, a little green line spiking and dropping across the monitor. A long curtain stretched across the space in front of you. You needed to pee.

As you moved to get off the cot, a sting of pain shot through your right arm at the inner joint and you realized that you had missed the IV drip beside the heart monitor. Clamping the IV stand you rose precariously on wobbly legs. You shuffled wearily forward, pulling the curtain back to reveal the other half of the room...and your soulmate.

He was sitting in bed, over the covers, in a heather grey tee and navy blue sweats, bare feet crossed at the ankles. He was still wearing the beanie, and his head was dipped down, immersed in the book he was holding open in his lap. The mid-morning sun spilled through the open window, bathing the suite in a pale yellow that blanketed generic seating furniture and a small bookshelf topped with a bonsai tree and painted clay figurine beside the bed, but left the abstract art piece on the opposite wall in relative shadow.

You were about to retreat back behind the curtain when a wheel of your portable IV stand betrayed you with a squeak. You pulled the curtain hurriedly shut, but too late.

"Hello?" You heard him call softly.

His voice sounded better, you thought. Not nearly as raspy. You must look like shit, you also thought. Oh well, you needed to get past him to look decent anyway. And to pee. And he was going to see you probably every day for the rest of your life, so, bashfulness regarding your morning mug was definitely a waste of emotional energy. You heaved a sigh, and slowly pulled back the curtain, peeking through as you advanced a step.

"I didn't want to disturb you," you fibbed, clutching the IV stand.

"You're not disturbing me," he responded, shutting his book.

He was looking at you with a soft expression, reserved, but still warm. He looked a lot better than yesterday, too; it was unmistakable. His skin had lost a great deal of its previously ashy quality and the bruises on his arms had nearly vanished. His lips were no longer chapped, and, you noted, were full and naturally deep in color. His face looked less wane, though still thin, his shirt still hanging loosely over his chest and broad, sloping shoulders.

"You look a little better," you urged, hoping to justify your prolonged stare.

He smiled. You were quickly reminded like a sock to the gut how pretty his smile was.

"I feel better," he concurred, "Thanks to you."

You looked down at your feet awkwardly. You had never been good at receiving praise or gratitude.

"Oh...I'm glad," you mumbled.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

You raised your gaze back up to meet his, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

"Probably about as good as I look," you rejoined.

He pulled his smile into a tight line, eyes creasing. You thought maybe that was what he looked like when he was trying not to laugh. Suddenly you felt your bladder demand priority of attention.

"Well, I'm gonna...get ready. For the day," you motioned, quickly realizing you had nothing to change into, and slipped back into the little room behind the curtain.

Scanning the space, you noted your suitcase and bag against the wall. You filled your bag with the essentials and a change before popping back out into the other half of the room on your way to the bathroom. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Namjoon glanced at you before looking down at his book again, and you ignored the tight feeling in your chest one more time.

Your mom had always said that a hot shower could make a person reborn, and by golly you figured she was right. You felt life seeping back into your limbs slowly but surely as the warm water poured over your body. As always, hot water and steam against white tile oiled cogs of your mind.

Clearly, the bond had served Namjoon well. You were anxious to know what a medical assessment would report. Your own exhaustion confused you, however. Wasn't the bond supposed to nourish you, rejuvenate you? When would you stop needing food? How often would you need to practice skinship now that you were bonded? And what would that look like? A thousand questions filled your mind as you massaged your scalp. You made a mental note to write a list of questions for the doctor.

Once you had finished your morning routine, you felt infinitely more prepared to face the day. You changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. As you shuffled back toward your room, you noticed Namjoon bent over the bonsai, tiny scissors in hand. A nurse was typing on a tablet on the other side of the bed.

"Um, Namjoon," you asked, as you paused.

He startled a bit as he looked up at you, dropping the little scissors and cursing under his breath. The nurse peeked over and when she had seemingly assessed that no damage had been done, she smirked.

"At least no bonsai limbs were lost this time," she murmured.

Namjoon slipped the scissors into a little leather pouch.

"Hilarious," he deadpanned, then turned his attention back to you, "Sorry, did you ask me something?"

"Actually," you blinked in surprise, "I was going to ask you to ask the nurse, but I guess I can ask her myself this time."

The nurse smiled at you.

"Ganhosanim, this is Y/n-ssi," Namjoon said, addressing the woman. She gave you a bow which you returned.

"Annyeonghaseyo," she greeted you, "I'm Nurse Cha and I'll be your attending on most days. Please feel free to speak to me in English," she smiled.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders. While you had been studying Korean furiously ever since your decision had been made, having medical personnel you could communicate with at this stage without having to rely on Namjoon to translate for you was a welcome relief.

"If you have a minute, I have some questions? Or, I will, once I write them down. Could I just put my stuff away and come right back?" You asked eagerly. She nodded, still typing away on the tablet. You dropped your bag beside your suitcase, which you tossed on the bed and unzipped to extract a pen and a notebook with three little bees embossed into the cover. You donned your slippers and crossed back over to Namjoon's side. He was sitting on the bed again, and nurse Yun was examining one of his arms. You plopped down in an armchair beside the bookshelf.

"Nice bonsai," you remarked, trailing your eyes over the intricate geometric patterns of its shallow stone pot.

"Nice journal," he replied. "Moleskin?"

You nodded, holding it up to show him the front.

"It has bees," you said with solemnity, as if the whimsy of the endearing was something to be taken quite seriously, and Namjoon hummed in grave assent. Nurse Cha glanced between you, a smirk at the corner of her mouth.

"You said you had some questions, Y/n-ssi?" She offered.

"Yes," you began, scribbling a few down in the pages in your lap before beginning. "Firstly wha- Oh! What happened to me yesterday? Did I pass out?" You interrupted yourself to ask.

"Yes," she replied. "While the bonding was successful, and the skinship was highly rejuvenating for Namjoon, it appears that you were giving more than you were getting from a physiological standpoint, and while the effect was still probably similar to you on a cellular level, you were disproportionate in your transfer of energy. We've put you on an IV drip for now to ensure you're getting the replenishment your body needs regardless of food intake."

You jotted down a few lines of notes.

"Okay, makes sense. Now, moving on to the food thing - we're still eating, right?"

Nurse Cha began typing on her tablet as she responded.

"Yes. However, there is great boidiversity as to when and what people start rejecting as far as food goes. The average point of solid food rejection begins around two weeks after bonding. Generally, bonded individuals are still able to consume water and distilled alcohols, though they become unable to experience taste."

"Does alcohol have the same...effect?" Namjoon spoke up from the bed.

"An intensified one, actually," she responded, "Being a bonded mate means rediscovering your tolerance, and caution is of course advised. We've actually taken blood panels to alert us of any food sensitivities you may have. These should be immediately eliminated from your diet, as the rejection symptoms can be more severe in cases of late-stage ingestion with these items. The doctor will be in later to review those results with you."

"Okay. And how often will we need to practice skinship, and are we going to need to initiate it ourselves or are we going to be on a schedule?"

"I was wondering about that too," Namjoon said, adjusting his beanie.

"The doctor will go over that with you as soon as he arrives in a little while as well. I know I'm scheduled to update your charts every six hours, so I'm sure there will be some guidance involved at first."

You quickly glanced up at Namjoon and then down at your lap. A warmth spread through your chest as you tried to keep your eyes on your notes and off of his bare arms. You were having those stupid urges to latch onto him again. Your hand twitched around your pen. You wondered what his thoughts were on your next session.

Just then, Dr. Na entered the room. He greeted both of you warmly and Nurse Cha took over relaying the consultation in English.

The oncologist was very optimistic about the effect of the soulmate bond on Namjoon, saying that his vitals had stabilized, his pain levels were lower than they'd been in weeks and the inflammation in his body had decreased significantly. He stressed that, while these were good signs, they were not a guarantee that the skinship was treating the cancer, and that they would have to take scans after a time to see if the tumors had were in fact shrinking.

He reviewed your blood panel results, letting you know that from that point forward you were to avoid consuming nightshades while communicating to Namjoon that he hadn't tested positive for any food sensitivities. He showed you a chart dictating when and how long you should practice skinship each day, beginning with a session immediately following the consultation. He cautioned you to alert medical staff if during a session you began to feel overly-drain, as they did not want you coming to the point of fainting again. You were removed from your IV drip.

After the doctor had taken his leave, Nurse Cha fixed you with additional monitors, instructed you both to strip down to your maximum level of comfortability for the session, and departed. Once you were down to bra and panties, you climbed up into the huge hospital bed to join Namjoon, who once again kept his gaze trained anywhere but your side of the bed as you slipped under the covers and pressed yourself into his side.

Suddenly it was as if you had slipped into a warm bath under the influence of champagne. You closed your eyes and sank into the incredible sensation of his touch. His skin was like a warm cup of tea on the coldest day of the year. Like the first refreshing moments of a plunge into cool water at the height of summer. It was everything wonderful all at once, and you were so caught up in the sensation that you were barely cognizant of a tiny moan escaping your lips.

Horrified, you bit down on your bottom lip and prayed to all that was sacred that Namjoon hadn't noticed. His immediate soft laughter, however, betrayed him, and you felt your face burning with embarrassment - beads of sweat pricking on your forehead as you covered your face with a different kind of groan.

"Sorry," you murmured, ruefully.

"Nah, I get it," Namjoon chuckled, his chest rumbling under your cheek. "If it feels as good for you as it does for me, then that's the correct response."

You allowed yourself to giggle a bit in turn.

"I'm glad it's already helping," you remarked, and you felt him turn his head as if he was looking down at you.

He was silent for a beat before addressing you again.

"Everything happened so quickly yesterday, I didn't even get a chance to thank you."

"For what?" you countered, even though you knew exactly where he was headed with this.

"For leaving your life behind and coming to Korea to give a stranger a chance at his. I'm going to spend the rest of my time making it up to you."

You felt your chest tighten. You pushed yourself up on one arm and turned to face him. The sheet fell down your upper body as you moved, but you were too intent on looking him in the face to notice.

"Namjoon, you're not a charity case. I didn't do this so that you would owe me something. This is a choice I made. All mine. So relieve yourself of any debt you may feel you owe me. We're bound by circumstance, but you're a free man in every sense of the word. I won't be a burden you bear any more than you wish to be one to me."

If you had been looking through his eyes, you would have seen yourself, pressed up out of the sheets with all the modesty of a sea nymph, your features glowing with the effects of the bond and fixed with a splendid kind of resoluteness and soft defiance. But, you saw it from your own, taking in the quiet shock on Namjoon's features that slowly morphed into something you couldn't place. Not yet. You didn't know him well enough.

After regarding you blinkingly, he looked at you with earnest eyes and gave a nod.

"I accept those terms," he assented, and you believed him.

You thought maybe you'd believe anything he said, and, suddenly aware of the bareness of your torso under the intentness of his gaze, you slipped back down against his side.

"I noticed you dropped the honorifics," he murmured teasingly.

You glanced back up at him.

"Oh...sorry, I'm not used to it. I can -"

"It's alright," he interjected, "I think we should be familiar. It will make things easier, right? Only if you want, though," he quickly added.

"Yeah, no, I agree," you answered, shifting to press your leg more fully against his, and smiling to yourself as you keyed up your next remark.

"And I'm only your noona by a little bit anyway, so no need to call me that..."

This time a loud laugh burst out of him that shook your head enough for you to roll away and shoot him a look as he brushed a hand over his eyes in amusement. You smiled as you took in his dimpled cheeks and crescent eyes, and nearly didn't notice the voice speaking in bemused and startled Korean at the mouth of the hall. It was Namjoon who looked up first.

"Yah!" He called in indignation and warning as you followed his gaze to catch but a glimpse of two young men, badly repressing snickers as they bolted back down the hall to the entry of the suite.

Namjoon sighed sharply and turned to you with and apologetic expression.

"I'm so sorry, those idiots are my friends. They're used to coming and going as they please to visit me - which, obviously now they can't just barge in unannounced."

He slipped out of bed, and you glanced away as he pulled on sweats and a shirt.

"I'll tell them to come back at a better time."

"No, no!" you protested, "Just let me get decent. I want to meet them."

Namjoon paused as he kicked on his slippers.

"You sure?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, yeah. I know we're still on skinship time, but, maybe we can just...hold hands? I mean, as long as you're okay with it..."

Namjoon's mouth slipped into a wry grin as he glanced down to the other end of the suite.

"Yeah, I'm fine with it. I apologize in advance if they can't be."

You gave a confused shrug as Namjoon picked up his phone and crossed into the vestibule area to give you the privacy to change. You pulled your leggings and sweatshirt back on and perched yourself cross-legged on the hospital bed, listening with amused anticipation as Namjoon spoke in exasperated Korean on the other side of the wall. You heard the door and three sets of footsteps accompanied by giggles and shushing, and then your soulmate emerged, all but herding the two young men preceding him into the room.

You immediately recognized the strapping, dark-haired one with the leporine smile as Jungkook, the young man who had accompanied Hybe's representation to visit you on Namjoon's behalf. The other young man you also recognized from internet images as one of the members, though you couldn't recall his name. He was shorter than Jungkook, though not by as much as he should have been due to the significance of his heeled boots. What he lacked in height he made up for in athletic build and voluptuously beautiful facial features. He shook his honey blonde hair out of his eyes, earrings tinkling as he regarded you with a coy smile.

"Ijjogeun Y/n-ieo. Y/n, this is Jungkook and Jimin," Namjoon said, gesturing to each of the members as they made polite bows.

"Annyeonghaseyo," you said, returning their bows deeply, "Mannaseo bangapseumnida - dasi mannaseo bangabseubnida, Jungkook-ssi."

Jungkook flashed a blinding smile, round eyes wide and sparkling.

"It's good to see you again too, noona," he answered in English. Namjoon's brow creased as he glanced between you and the young man you had been originally introduced to as the maknae of BTS.

"You've met?" he asked. You nodded.

"Jungkook was one of the people who came to meet me in the US when your company made the proposition," you explained. "He spoke very, very highly of you. His reference of your character was one of the major contributing factors toward my decision to come."

You smiled softly at Jungkook. Namjoon nodded, brow still drawn, as he pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek, jaw clenched and jutting forward, as he clapped the youngest on the shoulder. You thought Jungkook's eyes were just a bit glassy as the two shared a look that seemed to hold a lifetime of history. Jimin regarded the two with sentimentality before returning his gaze to you, again full of enigmatic mischief. The blonde took a step toward you, then turned on his booted heal, saying something to Namjoon in Korean.

You cocked your head to the side, glancing at your soulmate.

"He said I look a lot better already," Namjoon said, eyeing Jimin warily as the younger man continued speaking, flashing you a devilish grin. Jungkook pulled his pierced lower lip between his teeth as he glanced between Namjoon and Jimin. You looked again to Namjoon expectantly.

Awkwardness radiated from him as he deflected saying Jimin was just making fun, and he shot the younger man a look that unmistakably communicated his lack of amusement. Namjoon made another remark in Korean, and joined you back on the bed, hesitating only a moment before he took your hand in his.

You saw his shoulders sag in relief as he breathed a sigh through his nose at the contact. You had to restrain your own reaction, glancing down shyly as to avoid the two pairs of eyes trained in rapt curiosity on you from the end of the bed. Namjoon continued to speak with them, translating between you when your limited Korean wasn't sufficient, and gradually your awkwardness eased in the comfortable presence that emanated between your soulmate and his members.

As the visitors were about to take their leave, Jimin trained you with a newly serious look, leaning against the edge of the bed, and glancing at Namjoon as he spoke in what you could decipher was gratitude.

"He says they're all so grateful to you and glad to have you with us," Namjoon translated. You noticed his thumb slide over the back of your hand as he said it. So did Jimin, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he eyed where your digits were intertwined.

"Ah," you said awkwardly, "No thanks necessary, we're in this together, right?"

You pulled your hand from Namjoon's and in an attempt to raise your arm and give him a nonchalant pat on the back, you backhanded him directly in the face.

Namjoon's hand flew up to his cheek and the two younger members erupted in laughter. You apologized profusely, trying to make sure Namjoon could hear you over Jungkook's wheezing and Jimin's shrieks of what you were pretty sure was "oh shit, there are two of them". When Namjoon had assured you that he was perfectly fine and the other two had composed themselves, you said your goodbyes. As soon as they were out the door, Namjoon was apologizing.

"It's fine," you smirked with a shrug, "That's friends for you. I would have been concerned if they hadn't poked a little fun. I like them. I want to meet the rest of them."

Namjoon slipped back up onto the bed and intertwined his hand with yours as he glanced down, a pensive look on his face.

"There's a lot of people you need to meet," he said quietly, thoughtfully.

You studied him as he continued to look down at your joined hands.

"In fact," he continued, "There was someone I was hoping you could meet tomorrow. Someone we should sit down...and talk with."

You nodded, regarding him intently.

"Her name is Kim Hyung-seo," he continued, "She's my fiancée."

AN: Yeah, sorry to drop that at the end and peace out. 😁✌

Tag list: @butterymin @little-dark-empress @aretha170 @kamilamb @jlee97 @thephotoend @callmenoona25

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