Names- Jikook (✔️)

Chapter Three- Part One

Jimin's POV

"Forget what we're told, before we get too old, show me a garden that's bursting into life." - Snow Patrol, Chasing Cars

It happened before school began, just after he had bid goodbye to Namjoon and Hoseok and wandered into his first period classroom. He sat down behind his rather scuffed wooden desk and rummaged through his backpack to find the books he needed for class, only to hear a small electronic ding emerge from his phone as his fingers lightly brushed it's smooth surface. Out of habit, he pulled it out of his bag to read the message on the lockscreen, sure that it was one of his friends or maybe his mom telling him that he left something at home.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Hey, my name is Jeon Jungkook.

Jimin froze, feeling dread slowly spread through his veins, icy and toxic. He forced his worried brown eyes to skim the rest of the note.

You're Jimin, right? I know this sounds weird,

He could hardly bear to look at the last few characters displayed on the screen.

But I think we're soulmates.

It was him, definitely him.  Or was it? Actually, the only reason Jimin thought Jungkook was male was because of his title. Maybe they were a girl with a masculine name? He felt a fleeting surge of hope flap its wings inside his chest; hurriedly, he typed an answer: Yes, this is Jimin...Are you a guy? He pressed the send button, already anxious for a reply. He stared at the screen while Jungkook typed, waiting. Hoping. Hoping that they would answer otherwise, and this whole mess could be resolved. Hoping, not just for him, but for Jungkook as well.

Yeah, last time I checked. Why?  His hopes disintegrated, he stifled a small sob and tried to text Jungkook back like his heart hadn't just broken.

Okay, thanks, he typed with trembling fingers. As for if we're soulmates... He really hoped nobody was watching him as he inhaled a huge, shaky breath, trying to collect himself. He ran a pale hand through his silky, blackish-brown head of hair, then brought it back to the digital keyboard and attempted to force his fingers to write the rest of the message.

Yes, I think we are.

His fingers stilled for a moment, powerful words stewing between the two in silence. He was only semi-conscious of the school bell ringing, of the flood of students entering the door, the teacher clearing his throat in preparation for an impossibly boring lecture. How had his whole life changed in just a day? One thing was for sure: he wouldn't be able to concentrate on a single thing today, not like this. He raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Park?" The teacher leveled his sharp brown eyes at the younger boy. Jimin swallowed, hoping the man wouldn't see through his lie.

"I...need to go to the bathroom." The man nodded his permission, and Jimin got up, discreetly sliding his backpack strap over his left shoulder as he stood up to leave. Thankfully, he sat close to the door, so nobody noticed as he quietly slipped out of the door with all of his belongings.
He roamed through the empty hallways, praying that a hall monitor on the prowl wouldn't catch him ditching class.

The building entrance had never looked so ominous. Jimin looked around once to make sure nobody was watching as he gripped the cold metal handles of the doors and pulled them open, a cool breeze winding through his dark chocolate-colored hair and wafting into the stuffy atmosphere of the building almost immediately. He tilted his head back, enjoying the feeling of cool air against his skin for a few fleeting moments, before he realized that he should probably leave before anybody caught him in the act. Trees accentuating the otherwise bleak sidewalk swayed gently as he walked past them, their green leaves fluttering about with every sigh of the wind. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, taking a deep breath as he unlocked it and stared down at the number that, a few minutes ago, he hadn't known. That he wished he didn't know right now. He pressed the call button, and slid the smooth glass screen to his ear as he waited for an answer. The streets were deserted, as most people were at work or school, and the only sound besides the automated ringing of his phone was the soft sweep of the breeze as it blew his mane of dark hair into his similarly tinted brown eyes. His breath caught as the phone went silent, and a smooth male voice spoke directly into his ear.