Soul Mates | Jinkook ✓

12.0

Author's Note: More talk of PTSD, self harm and rape. Also of Jungkook being really stupid. 

"How did you survive all if that? Endure it? I'm pretty sure I would have given up around thirteen."

"When I was younger, before that day we found each other, all I ever had of you was part of your name. Just 'kook' sprawled along the right side of my wrist. When things got really bad I would lose myself in that. In you. I would imagine what your name was. What kind of person you were. I would plan our our whole lives together. I touched literally everyone I met hoping for that spark, but it never came.

By the time I was fourteen I thought maybe I was a glitch. My mark was black, after all, and I knew most marks were in their mates favorite color. It was Yoongi who pointed out that maybe your favorite color was just black.

I cursed myself for not noticing right away that day. By the time I did I had touched dozens of people. I cried myself to sleep that night because I thought I had missed my chance to be with my mate.

But at least I knew your name. Jungkook. I thought it was the best name in the entire world. I started dreaming about you again. Trying to picture our lives. God, I fucking loved you so much, Jungkook. All it took was your name for me to love you." He was crying again. He hadn't cried talking about his mother's abuse or his fathers neglect or the horror that was his life after. But he cried when talking about the love he held for his mate.

"You were the reason I kept trying. For years, you were all that kept me going.

I think it was year three when I realized you weren't coming back. That touching everyone trying to get that spark again was useless. So I just stopped. I thought maybe if I could get the ink out of my skin I wouldn't have to look at it anymore. That I wouldn't dream of you. Hope was pretty futile at that point.

I regretted it after. I had always loved having your name on my wrist. Had always loved you. I tried to go to therapy at that point. There was a group for trauma survivors and I went. It helped enough that I felt stable again.

I went back to dreaming of you again. It was my hope. My reason for going on.

But then I read this theory that mates are opposite. If my life had been this terrible then yours must have been really good. If I had suffered so much in the darkness then you must have walked with happiness in the light. Cause and effect. Action and reaction.

And at first, I was glad that my pain was for something. That maybe it had been to give my mate a good life. A perfect life.

Then the resentment crept in, despite how I tried to stop it. I didn't understand why I had to give and give and give while you got everything.

So I tried again. I ended up in the hospital that time because I cut too deep. They helped me for forty eight hours, just long enough for me to convince them I was just trying to get rid of my mark and didn't actually want to die. I went to three therapy appointments and that was it.

I hadn't tried again for two years. I tried to focus on the bright side of it. That you had a good life. That you must be happy. And that was okay. As long as you were happy I could take anything. I loved you with all of my heart, despite how broken and scarred it is. I love you still, Jungkook. I'll love you forever.

That night, I couldn't take how you were looking at me. I knew what you thought. I couldn't even blame you. I would have thought the same thing.

It felt like I was dying. In all of my dreams, in all of my plans, you'd never looked at me like that. You'd just hold me as I'd cry and I'd tell you about my past and you'd understand. You'd know all the right words to say to make it alright. I guess that's on me. I expected unrealistic things from you.