Color of My Pain

8| Blue

Hoseok felt oddly unsettled after that conversation, a heavy blue anxiety settling in his chest. Minhyuk was clearly saddened by his circumstances, yet he laughed with his nephew. He celebrated instead of wallowing. Much later, after the party had ended, Hoseok lay awake in his own bed. He could only see the love in Minhuk's eyes for the man who had refused both of their happiness.

Yoongi was all too aware of the third party in his home Monday morning. The hushed conversation, the anger in the couple's whispers. His mom had stopped by. Yoongi had never met her before, he'd heard her whispered conversations with his dad few enough times that he could count on two hands. He never managed to make out the words. He never saw her face. He imagined a delicate woman with a fierce heart. His father didn't have any pictures.

In spite of himself, Yoongi crept silently down the stairs and sat on the last one, pushing himself close to the wall and straining his ears. It was a bad idea to listen. Listening would conflict him. He'd always decided it was his mom's fault they were alone. She was the one who left to be with her soulmate. Blue tingled under his skin in anxious anticipation of what he might learn.

"No he cannot."

"He's my son just as much as he is yours Jooheon." Her voice had a nice alto tone to it, a soothingly low gravel that reminded Yoongi of his own voice.

"You didn't raise him." Dad scoffed.

"You wouldn't let me. Jooheon, I just want to know my son, I want to see him meet his soulmate."

"You think I don't?"

"That's rich, Mr. S-"

"Shut up." Dad warned lowly.

"Fine. I don't think you deserve that moment, all things considered." His mom argued. Whatever affection the pair once held for each other had clearly vanished, but there was a sincere desperation in his mom's voice that kept Yoongi listening rather than stalking across the street to school.

"Well you can't be the judge of that, Hwasa." Dad poured, presumably coffee, into a cup and took a sip.

"Let Yoongi then, let him choose."

"No." There was an emotion in that one word, one Yoongi had never heard from his father: fear.

"Why not? Are you afraid he'll want to live with his mom rather than his narrow-minded, emotionally distant father who didn't even give his soulmate a chance because-"

"Another word and I'm kicking you out." The tone his dad used was dangerous. Yoongi silently pleaded with his mom to let it drop.

"Jooheon," Hwasa's voice softened. "I just want to live with my son. Can't I have that?"

Yoongi refused to listen anymore. He silently picked up his backpack and slipped outside, stumbling down the porch steps and across the steps. Towards Tae and Kookie who were waiting by the gate.

"Sleep well, Yoongi hyung?" Jungkook chirped from Taehyung's shoulder.
l
"Yes thanks."

"Are you okay?" Tae pestered at the lack of enthusiasm to his baby's question.

"My mom and dad were arguing."

The couple's mouths dropped open in a silent 'oh'. In a world where soulmates lived happily ever after, it was rare to have split parents. Yoongi's classmates called him dysfunctional. Yoongi didn't listen to them. He went through his otherwise unordinary day in a sullen sleepy funk. He barely bothered to lift his head in class until history, and then only because his teacher was a stickler for attentive students.

"So to help us study, we will be going on a field trip to a historic art museum in Ulsan (its abt an hour away from Daegu where Yoongs is like 46 miles) . Our class will be joining a sister school's trip and our usual groups of two will be grouped with a group of two from that school in a sort of good relations activity. You are allowed to pick your partners, but I said TWO. Be sure to have a parent or guardian sign your permission slip.

Whispers erupted and escalated as soon as the instructor left the room. Yoongi put his head down on his desk, eyeing the paper reproachfully. He never had a partner. Taehyung got to bring Kookie with him everywhere because you aren't allowed to separate soulmates. He groaned inwardly. He'd put the slip on the fridge. Dad would either trash it or sign it. It didn't really matter.