Destiny's Mark [Yoongi/Suga x Reader Soulmate AU]

Chapter 4

Min Yoongi was not a happy camper. He frowned as he looked at his outfit for the masked ball. Nothing was out of place, it looked perfect and yet he was frowning. The news NamJoon told him made him grumpy.

 He was supposed to go to that event alone, and maybe play a few piano songs for the people there. Everyone had to be in different places and they did not know how to balance their schedules to be in all places, so they decided to do either a two-person group or one person per event. One of the unlucky people to go alone was him, and he showed his displeasure, but at least he knew he could go there, play a tune or two, and then leave after thirty minutes and no one would know.
 

Everyone else left for their events, and he was still in his room, looking at the mask the guys chose for him and he sighed once more, his fingers tracing the cat ears which adorned the mask, letting them slide down the rounded edges, and from there to the inside of the mask. The right ear was painted red and had black music notes on the edges of the ear, while the left ear was a simple black, nothing adorning it. Underneath the eye holes, there were two patches of gold shapes in a downward triangle, stopping at the middle of the mask, and a row of music notes was painted upon his left eye, and a similar one underneath his right eye. It was simple in its design, and ivory-colored the rest of the mask, the blending of colors being quite calming on the viewer. The mask matched his outfit, which reminded him of the 'Blood, Sweat and Tears' era, and he looked upon it with nostalgic eyes. 

 He took the outfit off the hanger and started getting dressed, each time looking in the mirror to make sure every piece was a fit. In the end, even he had to agree he looked good in it, and looking around to make sure no one was around, he did a very Jin pose to entertain himself. The black jacket which was covered mostly in red, velvety flowers hugged him like it was made for him, and his black shirt and pants brought out the black in his hair, darkening his brown-colored eyes. For the finishing piece, he tied the scarf tie around his neck, trying to make it look like a Victorian ruffle, somehow ending lopsided, but that gave off a charm of his own, so he stuck with it. And with another sigh, he put on his music-cat mask and trudged out the door to where the driver was waiting for him.

 In the backseat of the car, he fidgeted in this outfit of his, his fingers sometimes stopping on his right arm, above the place where a mark resided on his skin. When nothing covered his arm, the mark was barely visible due to his paleness. The minty-blue color blended well with the white undertone paleness he had, but he still tried to keep it hidden. Mostly from guilt. Rarely because he was afraid fans would try to replicate it. His mind jumped back to the end of October, where he visited Iceland on his vacation days, to escape the overpopulated sounds of the cities. He needed a breather and Iceland sounded about right for him, at that time. And the fact they did not look down upon markless people like him was a bonus. He was twenty-five so he still had time to get a mark, but somehow he felt free without anything marring his skin.

 And in those Icelandic nights, he met a person with fiery red hair and sparkling eyes because of tears. And the person cried and cried because the mark he hated to have never marred her skin, and somehow he felt sorry for her. He listened to her cry and rage against the unfairness of the world and its error-filled system, and he was there for support as she was sick from the amount of alcohol she ingested. And when the night and its coldness came knocking, he took her back to her room and made sure she got back safely. To his horror, the next morning he woke up with a burn on his arm and the mark glared at him from his pale skin. He remembered how he tried to rub it off, wash it off with soap, before accepting his fate, and for a split second, his mind went to the red-haired woman from the forest, his brain suggesting she might be his soulmate. He knocked and waited, but no reply came from her room, and he waited an entire day, but she never appeared back to the cabins, and he felt horrible and guilty like he stole the mark she was supposed to have. She probably went back to her country, markless and in pain, while he didn't want or need the mark, and yet here he was with it in its life. 

 Those two months passed by slowly for him, and he dedicated his entire time to practices and composing, trying to burn the memory of the mark out of his brain. Yet, it always lingered there to the front of his brain, just like the mark always appeared in his line of sight whenever his skin was visible. The empty top half of the circle brought an emptiness to his life as well, reminding him of that soulmate of his who was out there somewhere, and by his estimate, she or he was about ten years younger than him. Plenty of time for him to continue with his life and do what he loved best before binding himself to another person.
  The car stopped abruptly at a red light, and brought Yoongi out of his thoughts, glancing out the windows to see a grand mansion closing in on him, and glaring at the ticket he held between his fingers, he prepared himself mentally for what was to come.
  'Just an hour tops, you can do this!' he encouraged himself, before stepping out of the car when it stopped in front of the stairs, and with the practiced ease of an actor, he stepped inside the manor. 'A two nights event like this is nothing, even if you are all alone' he continued mentally, looking around, glad for the comfort of having his face hidden. People were gathered in small circles, some looking to be soulmates, while others were just looking for quick gossip or to extend their circle of acquaintances.

 Yoongi immediately went for the most isolated corner of the room and relaxed his posture as he people-watched for a few minutes. Seeing as no one paid him any attention, he calmed down immensely and stepped towards the unoccupied piano in the room. Not even then, did the people turn to look at him, just a few sparse glances, but they did not care for his actions. He inhaled deeply as he let his fingers glide over the ivory keys of the piano, and he exhaled out as his mind settled on one piece of song in particular.
  Forgetting about the world surrounding him, about the people he did not know from this room, about the turn of events the night took, or about the minty-blue mark on his right arm, he let himself get lost in the piano and its sweet sounds, his fingers gliding over the keys like they always played this specific piano. He felt himself surrounded by the notes, bittersweet and heavy on their tone, sometimes light on its story, and everything else quieted around him. The song was about grief, and pain, and guilt, and loss, and somehow had the dulcet tones of a beautiful soul-felt journey of life, entwining itself with desire and love. 

When the song was finished and the magic stopped playing in his head, he breathed in and out once more, his fingers stopping an inch above the keys, slowly taking in the echo of the last resounding note.
  Clapping brought him back to reality, and opening his eyes, he looked through the eyes of the mask to see a red-haired dragon lady, all dressed in green and black, clapping and looking at him like she saw a work of art. Somehow, even after years of being an idol and seeing fans call for his attention, this touched him more and embarrassed him at the same time, a touch of redness lingering on his cheeks, and he was happy for the mask covering his skin.