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He just appeared one day. Jungkook could remember it clearly, would always be able to trace the sharp line that neatly bisected his timeline.
There had been his life before - when everything had been average and ordinary and pleasant. Before, when Jungkook’s biggest worries were passing his classes or if he’d chosen the right path in life or how many pieces of pizza he could eat in one go. He’d had friends, an ex-girlfriend, a dog. He’d had a future.
Then there was his life after Yoongi.
It had been a Thursday, the sun beginning to slink to the horizon to allow night to fall, Jungkook similarly slipping down against the barrier of the stop as he waited for his bus to arrive. This stop was quiet, not much more than the occasional passing car and the handful of grandmas chatting in a nearby stoop. In the distance, a siren wailed, but it was so far away.
Jungkook’s bus trundled to a stop in front of him, and it was all so ordinary as he got on, paid his fare, and shuffled back to find a seat, avoiding the high school students clumped together over a phone, skirting past a mother with her two small children and a sack of groceries.
He glanced out the window and spotted a man standing on the corner just as the bus began to pull away.
The world was muted around Jungkook, the sun having just dipped behind a building, leaving the street to rosed shadow and soft glow, but he was electrifying, standing out in acute contrast, both the inky black of his clothes and the glowing pallor of his skin. There was something unnerving about looking at him, at all his sharp angles and edges, as if someone had taken this man and edited him into the world, but hadn’t overlaid the same lighting to filter him into matching the scenery, but the bus turned a corner before Jungkook could even think of what he should do with this image.
The first cut was made, and Jungkook was never the same again.
(“You make it sound like I’ve killed you,” Yoongi said irritably.
“Haven’t you?” Jungkook asked.
“Only temporarily.”)
***
Life went on, as life was wont to do, but Jungkook thought about that man.
Even in his memory, the man was defined, unambiguous in a way that memories never were for Jungkook. Jungkook could remember important things, knew how to keep things in place in his mind for exams, but there was never any need for it to be so… photographic. Except for this man. He couldn’t even fully recall the store the man had stood in front of that evening, but he could recall the cut of his jaw, and the slope of his nose - could easily mull for hours over the only softness in the man, which had been his delicate eyes, a detail Jungkook had only thought of once he’d reflected on the entirety of this man.
He thought about the man when he went on walks with Miri (she didn’t seem to mind), when he was playing fortnite with Yugyeom and Taehyung (they did seem to mind), and even when he was in the shower (nobody else was there to mind).
Maybe Jungkook’s singular focus on the man was why he saw him again. Perhaps something the universe was tired of Jungkook’s endless consideration and allowed him one more glimpse, as a treat.
He was with Yugyeom this time, the two of them stopped at a crossing by an oncoming train, the bells clanging as the barrier dropped, and Jungkook was on his phone while they talked, but he happened to glance up as the train approached.
There he was.
Standing on the other side of the tracks, just as vivid as the first time, as if he’d stepped out of a black and white photograph, just as the train passed between them.
It should have hidden him from sight, should have blurred reality enough that the man was lost to Jungkook, but even with the train, Jungkook stared at him.
Last time, Jungkook had seen him in profile, and it felt staggering to take him in his entirety. There was a scar along his left cheekbone, he wore gloves made of silk, his lips had the faintest blush of pink, there was an old pocket watch hanging from his belt. He looked like a tiny slip of a man but felt more mythic than any person had any right to be.
Jungkook blinked right as the train finished passing and when his eyes opened, the man was gone.
“– think he’d notice if I sit next to him? Jungkook? Hey?” Yugyeom was saying, nudging his shoulder when he stopped responding. “Yo, man.”
“What?” Jungkook said, nearly stumbling, so thrown by what had happened. He couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about. “Did you–” see him? Jungkook began to ask and then stopped. Yugyeom hadn’t – or if he had, he hadn’t seen him, not the way Jungkook did.
“... Sorry,” he finally said, eyes drifting back to the other side of the tracks as the bells stopped and the barrier began to lift. “I was just thinking about… something.”
The cut deepened.
(“You never told me about that.”
Jungkook scoffed. “You never asked.”)
***
Jungkook had never really thought about anything on a cosmic scale. It was enough for his day to day life to be overall pleasant, his own singular thread to be woven in a tapestry of ordinary and mundane. He had friends, an ex-girlfriend, and a dog. He had a future.
So Jungkook had never given much thought to gods or holy numbers or fate written in the stars, up until the very moment he laid eyes on that man for a third time.
This time, the man was in motion, striding with purpose down the street, cutting easily through the wandering souls that flooded the sidewalks. There was something visibly kinetic about him, as if sparks should fly from his heels, that fire would be left in his furious wake. It struck Jungkook that he’d never seen anyone move through the world with the immovable understanding that this man did.
He was striking, in his impossibility, and he was gone in an instant.
Jungkook thought about cosmic destiny as he gave chase, thought about it before he realized he was in motion, trying to get across the street to follow, because this could not be random, could not be unintended.
He gave chase, running even as he lost sight of the man, his feet taking him along, even as he lost track of where he was, as the buildings grew more dessicated.
He thought of divine ordinance as he skidded to a stop in front of a dark alleyway, of destiny as he steeled himself and turned to face the man.
The man was not alone, however, and this was when the cut was complete, when Jungkook’s life was severed, two threads never to be connected again.
The man faced someone else, but Jungkook realized he’d made an error in thinking that this man with his eyes and his intensity was the only one who could ever be impossible, because the other figure was… more.
It was the only thing he registered before his brain promptly switched to static and white noise, as if to protect him from what he was seeing.
The other figure was taller than any person could ever be, everything stretched and elongated to hideous proportions, with eyes that were obscene and lopsided, a mouth that had too many rotted teeth. There was just so much black and darkness and festering, and Jungkook’s mind supplied a single word: evil.
“Fuck.”
The man turned to look at him, and their eyes met for the first time as they both realized what a mistake it was.
Everything after happened in bursts of reality, Jungkook watching with only a fraction of himself.
The creature’s arm shot out, snapping around the man’s neck and lifting him from the ground. When it opened its mouth wider, black smoke plumed out, sickly and dark.
Eyes widening in surprise, the man’s feet kicked ineffectually in the air, his hands both trying to shove at the hand around his throat and find something in his coat pockets, color flushing to his face in a dangerous surge.
“Hey!” Jungkook yelled, already in motion, and he wasn’t thinking about it, because thinking hurt, but he was running, bursting forward, and Jungkook couldn’t think but he could hit things, so he did, his fist sinking into one of those awful eye sockets with a disgusting squelch.
An awful shriek split the air as the creature shrank back, dropping the man and flailing about, still screaming in a way that made every atom in Jungkook’s body ache, before it burst apart like an overfilled balloon, shadows racing away to every corner. Then there was silence, and nothing left but the two of them.
Slowly turning towards the man, Jungkook looked down at his hand, at the small smudge of what looked like grease on his knuckles. Though he’d seen all of it, the smudge made his stomach flutter indescribably. It was so… tangible. He touched it, and his fingertip came away dirty.
“Fuck.” It was the man who said it this time, carefully getting to his feet, hand gingerly touching his throat. It was the first time Jungkook had heard his voice, after all of these moments , all of these instances plucked out of the universe. It was deep, scratchy now, but later it would smooth with healing. The sound was enough to make something pull within Jungkook, like a call to orbit.
(“Must you be so dramatic?” Yoongi asked.
Jungkook considered this. “Yes.”)
Jungkook finally looked up and met his eyes again, but also for the first time. “Hi,” he said, because that’s all he could think of. “I’m Jungkook.”
Was this what destiny was supposed to feel like?
There was a pause, as the man considered him, his expression puzzled as he looked from Jungkook’s hand to Jungkook himself. Soon, though, curiosity flashed in his eyes and he tilted his head, lips twitching in what must have been the beginnings of a smile. “I’m… Yoongi. Call me Yoongi.”