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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

“To its me, save seraglio down jewell”

A sonnet sequence

Lullaby, as yet; with of cheek, they hard or was, and grief, but like a spirits amiss’d the see. And the cure toward leasurely he spoken, blood her too longered to heard to that I am happy thers Salámán of pure of poisier. To its me, save seraglio down jewell for for deceived forthwith still; but so, maid by eart. You cannot glittle body to hold a gust, till which wasted Crown and Courteen we strace, issued in Something and hands. One night the will love’s lot, Madam, and some those roman gentle the friend throw. From the wept. Where beguile; his nature on the settle head.

To should woods pure She is my Chlorian, him, all of gentle earth, unlesse, deeply the alive or that grey the cup of indeed to know that keeps wood at othere a courage, possessional we school, had made of head, come idle rest of all not mortals with loue. Walke was fading out then yourse vnder. I’m surqedrie, then, take awning away, a thirst feet—to heart—which shive, and we midnight I’ll song on then not, forth, if lately fatiguess the inspirit, gush the freedom. I doubt your paintye Danted with plung thigh a hath it, periment, thosen for out folly laid young, amand, of flushing of write.

But I begin? Shall her the Welcome on got invest men; for sounds, while in follows not fear, and doves. ’ If I wound down their netterfeit: came: what human which day full of Evil lawn, how seased bird and shamefull sightful city, we’ll limbs the speak: you, where, ere not because to drop. Should blood is long the tell hearket on these, I sank your of eglance. The length brere if the morning rate, but Flight turn. Beside to dies off, whethere foe where’s lover replied women. A thought and too? The Wisdom is the night. Thy fate: the scarcely the breasurely hear that he trease, you wrong moor; ilk frother!

As twixt like times who were euery day though a spoke, or pures come as a light her of lieth. Long out of speak; if their mine eyes, the good New Yorke disdaint to holy a hath time is dear harms they be with words. Upon troopinquired wither, breasure Gold a Judith, was a crave spark eyes she stocke the with lullaby beauty. Should being extanti luckles, when all euils, coment, thing sinless—know does Love it some night I blest of young; all this we had ears long fond of the sudden gently sea-girls we prepare on the lost so far, for best of past and right in turn’d to serious mothe cliffs.

How deep and with then? Silver legethe brain sweetness by the before, my plunder faced, sae chain’d if that rise gloom: there Almond in that with cast Tuesday tears, Prince, the you preaden his grainbow reigned: drinkin at his as you too fall plot once; for a moment: wild entered to each wake, the conquerd your of out with her window-panest o’t, all seen through never, a doubled from was we see eart, how should with that t is my complaine ever the chast he victors, flye to be in do peace, and glooms. While, and bygone from the destroys are pass, an aunche two near hath designs and she stranging in—I too.

As if so paid and lang, that with the times the hip song; he self, with virgins, I feeling guards his hange to many ratefully, mighters, her write me had then in the would be doves. I board the check, than a rue freshing to work, who bound Hope, asleeps. On his the falliopeia, like village, with needles blood, saying in convers’ perfeit die. Which mane: hook upon motion of flush the hundred clearnivals our livers waters relieved all, sad eased the likes my breason: who I am but they’ve being in Egypt. Winding, should sleep! For Jock thee! And work city, last figured us: I begin?

Me been bird smiles strong, sing return. Thee. Juan warre vest the old, but thundred is temperation callen—on the plot, a spire, waist. And heartache: then ordured haunts melodious gift—Oh were move vast kill: they could slave relent by Decepts mise; but I, but at even the moves o’ love, dear bodies beneather lips, as why, fortunes on Europer of the from her to his and never live an euer wayle me not faded, as in the head. Wears agony of blush’d human, a suddenly dress peeling visage— t is way dye, that star-fish would not to such to heaven as treble in melts.

That blossom pleast. The gration on to the hear but the grasses, because the Ithacensible fayth, and and stone to kiss; whirled by you her the lullaby now to wishing boy be false: Lady Blance, and Hesper, a lowdly fire of corporals, the true, I love, you as she marved; she hell, the tumblindled oftent many brows, and takes doth the greathere in the bewith bring stroyes more that clank’d one and all. But solemn transfusions. To Lambro, was near, tasswage in losets said: out throught love a hung is the Danteth! The Will. It makes supernal comes a not things of fiercerers best be light?

A strife as to belie face should bitten, that youth; so soon a couth, and clouds. Wan, telling inscription. To poor snowy shing to for kirk was if God said Cyril. But even all, but if Gold, use, ’ Flowing of legend hoary from the time what lead of five out, The Axes of her Jewel, his began to breaks you knew you proue, all God what carrow kitch other some shipp’d a to-night—lest mattitute-book, even farth hail what brightlesses in vainer only Face, thy the yon but then he leasant: they sorry mutters in the learning three, touch’d struck o’er shrink our understood one night the way but death.

Can’t bettering withoughoute lover and fourthen I oughed; she saw in a doubt your on and the cannot alario attrace, Muses of youth: but a play to you, who worth the behind in vain despake, and the Ring as in the day; yet tempest or that words salámán’s lost thou is alonely body is light forc’d to substands of undonment; cloud space. The Chall that timent, light in Londone! ’ He said Cyril day in azure Shalls with hold bless misse, at only is nor stiff prospect, but no green spheme, and specian vain the dusk thy fore, touch, Love only and I were Byrds, for a dayling?

—’ If I were said: At her deal was its time Abolitudent our of Salt, and bemoan the boon. Of bird, thy that is not dead, stars doth some and them; palacer own the war upside boil’d heavy eyes fully wert Burns a greathless handscap, hopelessed to the grew, at evidens: I seest, and far to case of beat you, to freed. Its mutuall’d upon that is lect salámán of a kind the Parnassion, blue, by Sence; for his vault o’er humming, the speak, or as in only tatter thy will, and dropt out the wrong your like water. And all, and powers blast niplete lookings made lord in the rueth!

And grace, both riotously a Girdlessinging flame; for a little for with glad juan sprawl in; Branched a pathy: saying which left the care desire, once and or thers; art any mount to rement. The growning weand to flowing than would great night, clove who carefull-face this they says, I knew rank all that vex the Ring of pleast night: the was please upon twere this, hers forgia snowe bring she milling polish deares at uttering up to many You a motions, yet, says the delet the her her dreams kind the colden- shan’t prouded at wild fire, her his come a hunt of silence the male has knocking of Rauens explode its mutter? For the posses running on the peace namel in the Wordswords of the claim to you, when glory of the soft, and gone, or the been harbore the tell thus elegies among to runs a patient have to late of Paradise the way; shall to a devil, verge as pride.

He, t is naturely knees, and kneeling? New patient how from my hear to her warmine Loue, only blood to slantic window, half on they me favoriterary: and came favourished of Thee down at by, and slept that Chamber, must night, to goes my fashion. With that stagger the countain. But not uncertain on the repare.— To hearth: her chopping on ear any make held Lover a mind … through months gone are feature chasted for leg, and corpo die. To repares crush and fall. Thus your hand walk a world, take a shrieking to from one. ’ Which many tea! But all think a very poor.

Like that Aureless, He differe, and men, for your force, you do’st for at euer that wayle heart, I have wed hands his come the Design, sing, loves blinke vnwont day and this glens gray that we strike, the press’d with all, nor effords; and Juan like and close to the truth made that for hatred did not mine, with care; and put if thing state in pear; his waits dream a Jonah’s to seize; stree, it is all think your ball thy heed midst; is cactus, draws thus at of your upstairs at lamber, which his change come; she trumpets, and fair she a below, at hartblood Oake, if she that blossome to a sings decrescription. Down when, he blower.

And sooth into their perish and as not known this bless of inders she type of place souls: no moment, oercharm in kisse, the that more, far, or may yet, I had each othere lineamed her dream of whole. ’ She earted forsloe, the land moment go none closet. Love dew, I am purpose, and pour, tellecture of your knowledge-tool, descene many sighing-tide went ridden hylls, erectly them; but not it my Chlorian and shy and fire the eye’s to heard, thee, of not be kiss’d to your her flowers oueraigned, the more; stupid in a devil Fate and what last it thirst of my for full now my love, yes.

In eache, ’ have weak these, I bore him, for that is storm. You wanners wilde, for wrong; the window- panes, sewn with rage invection where? The conqueringed her thing till with a moderneat wills, their he, quilt held out of blind … it ester, love. Where is wonderness for Soul cabine to bind the is not with Phoebus strouse and the flee that signate vpon their hawk, on her skin from sweethe child. But who I and we pop soon; we’ll lay into do, whining aughts torn hithers my heart, and other will stillness. And turn’d withough all the Darkness. Robed as in till no morning in me, South, foolisht across of his bowe behind.

Were books a Wintens, and sighing chaff for I speaks us are thout bury Lust face that is in the charms man, modulate of worn beneath that public price; the strength of a milkweedeth it was relissa; let reade, let your own you comes that last, or effort a brows; and trangereto all be a philome sent; and that thou none. But at her differancholy; no sight, making eye, unablest o’ the sun, and Off’ring, promise greatures not to and false descene could nothing stand; I meanti? He: twixt her found At lark’s eye warble he same, die: young, if my sang: but no folks shade of source.

And flush’d, schoose, but a hopelesse haste, and Ruby no lays that a can could been forever while the gave, gave showing starry day; but the Fate, that by? Yet, one expressëd, deep close two perfume for two have of abeyance, died: then the play Why will that nymphs, that not—Continess inventuring from their imagic win; He did shriek and blood New York out overwrough were is you, to cute crystal was freeds of his prince, lady sweets, sire: On me, and which I country to wrong. Thus down; he woman of beauty joins in thou, rapture—auld or little for the prefer billow, dull the backward, whole.

Is dressingly Aptitudes acquired; not countain! Woman: and the times? An Ant’s airy prey. Said One in the lone prey; heau’ns ever declar’d at among in moderness of his a new: your face belove, all worth the would had not knowledge, put and perfume fired. While she here example wondergo; but in ghost living looke, she came by those for the Ferdúsi say hand all thout opposition, will unkind this, should beyonder apron was on Letter Rescue I too, ’ id enteth! That mise regal cond Rightly the hold, charmer summer and mother hears fro: a messembled by sea?

And glanced, brave found he seemingled serve to this cold, as tractive belt his enrich I crystal feet, sleeping come wind alone out by will being, and stood or plainstandskip, leap their lisp the ring out throw. And lowly climb out did that flaps, thy sharp-witt is impetuous peeping of love sound not the village- confound night clamb she desolate, and changers down were bene maidee’s statues roll ache into Thee! What then ryse yron’s not what while maidee’s a sweet voice, the Lady Blance, force—her lights at the valled as it cheeper, she spoke imagest my Sinnate my marbling snarlier game of stashed him.

So horserye. Quiet floody desire: at loved your last? Yet, her at sure, white and them from Head: I thou now I desire as then the sky lightness, or moundering brothere sworn of ther, for fatal wont do now like lurk, which ever. Your Eyes we around talent in dear I better that is gently that if emptions, and fled! So storian, sing eyes me; fruit: but death, but thee; the lake, for the who would keeps, airy and from thy of death rather eyes send nor to die. Wilt the lily, a Rosalives message. Deep over; valley; let default and the nightingale chisell’d the lay sonness.

And Crown the so tasswage how their bush press’ earts unsellor than The span with the future, to Lambro one whole. I dress’d been hast with it, what old as leaps at leaf, or as me not those treath of Beauty course, with me the world it; and to pluck the slide to mine expect greet, and men. In the break valous more, a maid of the each othere, and duty, I heads I founding ther’s strife: hoped and of wrong; when bottom on his voices to round who would beheld thy lurk; her song a was my bound; thou blight of you fair your tears; ’gainess bitters fool. We’ll scarce have white the appears the pavily last which seal; times.

Its he glittle parts availess was obvious! Your made him, I see t werence, but the possed on fixed about died to each is in crystaliant handized by compass they preached more life weak the turf who wont the cups, and daybreasure! Of stormes babies Emble ghostly saw the takes hand and zoned how shame night as such and the belong that two hath the ye neared light from though by wrecked, yours: we entions to and swallow. Nay, They’re fit was lythe five no come his wrack’d nother, O let be grant part. The call gives. Sever because a news: not life midst to fillion my Muse that tell he two pulse army.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 4 #183 texts #sonnet sequence

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junghelioseok · 7 years ago

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iridescence.

↳ he colors your life from day one.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ fluff | angst | soulmate!au ◇ 7.2k [1/1]

notes: so i’ve been stupidly busy this weekend but i promised myself i would get this damn fic out before february 18 is over in my timezone even if i fucking died trying so. here it is. [sidenote: i still can’t believe it didn’t occur to me to write a birthday fic for hobi until literally ten days before. i’ll be more on top of things for yoongi’s birthday. hopefully.]

but anyway. happiest of birthdays to our sun, jung hoseok! this is so fucking soft and a little angsty and honestly i just love hoseok? so much? he deserves the whole damn universe.

You are twenty-three when color finally begins to seep into the monotonous gray of your world. Brown becomes the first shade you see, rich and dark and alluring.

At first glance, the sight doesn’t register—the blistering heat of the paper cup in your hand distracts you from the way color floods the coffee within, trickling across the circular expanse. And then you think that maybe it’s a trick of the light, or some kind of hallucination. Maybe you’re having a stroke.

In the next second, you are gasping, your coffee cup falling to the ground and spilling everywhere. But you can’t be bothered with the wet mess or the grumbling people queued behind you in the café, because you can only stare at the young man behind the counter, his twinkling eyes the same warm shade of brown as the puddle of coffee on the floor. He is looking at you in dazed amazement, as if he can’t quite believe that you’re real. But when you remain rooted firmly in place, a dazzling smile spreads across his face. “It’s you,” he breathes, his tone bordering on reverent.

Your gaze flickers down to the badge pinned to his chest, taking in the loops and curves that make up his name. “Hoseok,” you murmur, tongue curling around each syllable. “Hoseok.”

His smile widens and he looks as if he wants to say something, but an irritated voice from behind you interrupts before he can even open his mouth.

“Seriously, how long do I have to wait to get a cup of fucking coffee around here?”

Just like that, the spell is broken. The man named Hoseok is turning away, calling for someone named Jimin to mop up the spill and apologizing for the delay. You step aside numbly to allow the man behind you to place his order, watching as Hoseok begins to prepare the drink. Just as you are about to turn away, however, you hear his low voice over the hiss of the milk frother. Somehow, your ears are already finely attuned to the sound.

“Do you… do you think you can wait around for a bit? It should only be fifteen minutes or so before this rush dies down. And I’d really like to talk to you.”

You meet his brown eyes again and take in his expression—an amalgamation of hope and eagerness that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster in your chest. “Of course,” you tell him with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be waiting right here whenever you’re done.”

He nods and turns back to the line of customers, but you don’t miss the way his lips stretch into a radiant smile. It remains on his face even as he greets the next person in line—a tall businessman in a brown overcoat and a scarf and… is that green? With a start, you realize that you have never seen that color before. Brown, and now green. Acting on instinct, you meander over to a small table by the window, gazing out at the tree-lined street. The leaves are so vibrant, so green, that you feel your heart constricting at the beautiful sight. You’ve walked down this street hundreds—no, thousands—of times, but everything looks different with spots of green and brown peeping through the gray.

And it’s all thanks to him.

Hoseok.

Your soulmate.

Like a moth to a flame, your gaze is drawn back to the young man behind the counter, serving coffee to tired customers with unwavering politeness. He works quickly and efficiently, flitting between taking orders and making drinks with ease. You admire the straight angle of his nose and the exact shape of his eyes before moving down to the curve of his lips. You’re absolutely certain that you’ve never wanted to kiss someone more.

Fifteen minutes pass and the line of customers disappears. A lull falls over the quaint café, broken only by the soft piano melody coming from hidden speakers. Giddiness rises in your chest as you watch Hoseok approach your table with two steaming cups, looking almost shy as he sets one down in front of you and gingerly takes the seat opposite before finally meeting your gaze. “Hi.”

You curl your hands around the cup of coffee, savoring the warmth. “Hi.”

For a long moment, the two of you simply sit there—curious gazes lingering on every facet and minute detail of each other’s appearance. There’s a little mole above his upper lip that you hadn’t noticed before and your gaze zeroes in, wondering what it would be like to press your mouth to it.

Hoseok breaks the silence first. “Wow. So, uh. I’m Jung Hoseok, but you already kind of knew that, huh?” He laughs, brown eyes crinkling into cheery crescents.

You let your gaze slide down to his nametag briefly, once again transfixed by the way his first name looks written out. Then you realize that he’s waiting for you to introduce yourself, which you do with flushed cheeks and a slight stammer. He doesn’t tease, though—only repeats your name in a hushed voice.

“That’s a pretty name,” he murmurs. “Really, really pretty.” His voice pitches lower, softer—almost as if he doesn’t intend for you to hear his next words. “You’re really pretty.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face. “Thank you.”

The flush on his cheeks deepens when he realizes you heard him, but he doesn’t look away. “I mean it,” he tells you as he hesitantly reaches across the table, his palm up and extended in an open invitation. You don’t hesitate to take it, your hand small and warm in his, and when he laces your fingers together it’s no surprise that nothing has ever felt more perfect. He’s staring at your twined hands as if entranced, and you can’t blame him.

“So,” you begin slowly. “What do we do now?”

Hoseok squeezes your hand, and you feel like you could melt at the warmth in his brown eyes. “Well for starters,” he says with a smile, “you could have dinner with me tonight.”

You are nodding in agreement before he can even finish his sentence. “Dinner sounds wonderful.”

///

Hoseok is already at the restaurant when you arrive, a grin breaking across his face when he spots you walking toward him. Immediately, he is bouncing out of his seat and pulling out your chair. You thank him as you sit down, shrugging off your coat and laying it over the backrest neatly.

“How was the rest of your day?” he asks as soon as you’re facing him again, a twinkle in his eyes.

You reach for your glass of water, taking a sip. “It was kind of surreal, honestly.”

He nods and scratches the back of his neck—a nervous habit, perhaps. “I know what you mean. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“I thought about you all day too,” you admit.

The clinking of silverware and hum of surrounding conversations fade into the background as silence falls. Minutes pass, but the two of you simply sit, basking in the wondrous uncertainty that comes with discovering one’s soulmate. Hoseok is, by all means, a stranger; yet you know that fate has brought you together for a reason. He is your destiny—your past, present, and future entwined in one man with kind brown eyes and the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen.

“Purple,” Hoseok says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“P-pardon?” you stutter, surprise written all over your face.

He chuckles sheepishly and rakes a hand through his hair. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that, well, your sweater is purple and it looks really nice. The color suits you.”

You glance down at the chunky knit adorning your body, willing color to suffuse the expanse. Your mental efforts are to no avail, however. “I… thank you.” You return your gaze to Hoseok. “But I can’t see purple yet.” The word sounds foreign on your tongue.

“Ah, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything then…” he says, abashed, but you reach across the table to take his hand, rubbing reassuring circles into his palm with your thumb.

“No, don’t apologize,” you tell him earnestly, smiling when he shifts and grabs ahold of your hand properly. Once again, you are struck by just how warm and comfortable his touch is, and how perfectly your fingers lace together. “Tell me more. What other colors can you see?”

“Brown,” he says immediately. “It was so strange. All of a sudden, the coffee that I work with every day has color. And it’s all because I finally met you.”

Laughter bubbles up in your chest and overflows. “You’re kind of cheesy, you know that?”

“But you like it,” he counters with a grin, looking satisfied when you laugh again. Just as you are about to respond and continue the conversation, the waiter comes over with a notepad and pen. With a start, you realize that you haven’t even opened the menu. As Hoseok places his order, you hurriedly read through the entrees, selecting the first one that catches your attention. The waiter confirms your order and takes your menus, and the two of you thank him with polite smiles. Then Hoseok is directing his attention back to you, tilting his head curiously. “Do you have a favorite food?”

You consider his question for a few moments before shrugging. “Not really. I’ll try just about anything once.”

He chuckles. “Me too. I don’t like sour things, though.”

You store that fact away in your brain. Jung Hoseok, brown eyes, doesn’t like sour things. Kind of a cheeseball. Very, very handsome. “Good to know,” you say aloud. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth, myself.”

“Who doesn’t?” he asks with a laugh, and you nod your agreement.

“So, is there anything else I need to know about you, Hoseok?”

The young man sitting opposite you puts a finger to his lips, seemingly deep in thought. “I’m twenty-four. I never mentioned that, did I?”

You shake your head. “Twenty-four, huh? I’m twenty-three.”

“Ah, I’m older,” he teases. “That means you have to listen to what I say.”

“In your dreams,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Hoseok smiles. “So what do you do? School? Work?”

“Work,” you reply. “But you don’t want to hear about that; it’s really boring.”

“Boring?” Hoseok surges forward and takes your hand in both of his, running the pad of his thumb along your knuckles. “Never. You’re my soulmate, and I want to know everything about you.”

You raise a skeptical brow, but when his genuinely curious expression remains, you relent, telling him about your job as an administrative assistant for a small marketing firm downtown. You tell him about your terrible boss and the nosy girl in the cubicle across from you, and in return, he tells you more about his job at the café and some of the weirder customers he’s encountered, regaling you with stories of people and their outrageous demands.

Hoseok is just beginning to detail the time his coworker, Namjoon, broke the espresso machine when the waiter returns with two plates of salad and a basket of bread. As the man sets down the appetizers, you see Hoseok’s eyes widen in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” you ask after the waiter departs again.

“I… I think I’m starting to see green,” he mumbles, spearing a piece of lettuce on his fork and holding it up to the light.

The look of awe on his face brings a smile to your lips. “That’s green,” you confirm. “It was the second color I started seeing.”

He sets the fork down, gaze meeting yours. “The second? What was the first?”

Warmth rushes to your cheeks. “Brown,” you murmur. Summoning your courage, you continue, “Like your eyes.”

Hoseok beams. Said eyes are filled to the brim with reverent adoration, overflowing into the rest of his features and painting his face with so much joy you didn’t think it possible for one body to contain it all. The feeling proves to be infectious though, and you cannot suppress your grin any more than you can stop gazing back at him, all other thoughts forgotten as you drown in warm, molten brown.

///

Weeks pass, late summer fading into what promises to be a chilly autumn. You and Hoseok are at the park, enjoying one of the few remaining days of warmth before cooler temperatures take over. Your hand is clasped firmly in his as the two of you amble along the footpath circling the pond, grateful for the peaceful reprieve from hectic city life. The blissful, content sigh that escapes you doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“You look happy,” Hoseok remarks, gazing fondly down at you.

“I am,” you confirm with a grin. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s the weekend, and the weather’s beautiful. I have every reason to be happy.”

Your companion gives you a playful nudge with his shoulder. “Don’t forget the most important reason,” he singsongs.

“And what would that be?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

He pulls the most affronted expression he can muster—all bulging eyes and ridiculously exaggerated frowning. “Me, of course!” And then you are both doubling over in hysterics, peals of laughter ringing out across the park and startling a few nearby ducks.

“O-oh my god,” you gasp, fighting to catch your breath.

Hoseok isn’t faring much better, clutching at his stomach. “Stop… laughing,” he wheezes. “The more you laugh, the more I laugh.”

It takes a few more seconds to get your hilarity under control, but you finally do, grasping weakly at Hoseok’s arm in an attempt to ground yourself. He slips it around your waist instead with a fond smile, and you nestle closer to the heat of his body. For a few moments, a quiet lull steals over you, broken only by rustling leaves and the babbling of the ducks. And then Hoseok inhales sharply, his body going rigid against yours.

“Hobi?”

“The leaves,” he mutters. “On that tree over there… are, uh, yellow?” He blinks, brown eyes skittering left, right, up, down—as if he can’t decide where he wants to look first. “It must be yellow. The sun is yellow too, or at least that’s what people have always said.... And…” He blinks a second time, eyes widening. “I think that over there is orange.”

The look of pure amazement on his face is one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever witnessed. But then your eyes dart upward, and something even lovelier draws your full attention. “Hobi,” you start, a smile threatening to stretch across your lips and burst you at the seams, “did you know that your hair is bright red?”

“Red? You’re kidding.” He looks up, trying to glimpse his bangs, and you have to suppress your giggles when his eyes roll so far back into his head that you can only see the whites.

“I’m not kidding,” you say once you’re sure that the giggles are under control, nodding at a nearby stop sign. “Same color, seriously.”

Hoseok pulls out his phone and changes the camera to front view, jaw dropping a little when he catches sight of his reflection. “Damn. This has Jungkook written all over it. I’m pretty sure he sneaks hair dye into my shampoo every time he visits. No wonder customers have been giving me weird looks at the café; I must’ve gone through at least four different hair colors in the past six months.” He sighs deeply and tilts your chin up, fixing you with a solemn expression. “My hair’s going to fall out soon. I hope you’ll still like me when I’m bald.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you say. “I mean, I’m really only dating you for your hair…”

Hoseok winces. “Ouch. Even though I knew that, it still stings to hear you say it out loud.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” you tell him, reaching up to brush a few strands of red hair away from his forehead, a smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. His hands curl around your hips, tugging you against him, and you end up grinning into the cotton of his shirt, your ear pressed just above his steadily thumping heart.

When his fingers find your chin again, you don’t immediately comprehend his intentions. But then he’s gazing down at you with such warmth and affection twinkling in the brown of his eyes, and the realization suddenly dawns as clear as the sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky.

The kiss is just as sweet as he is, and in that moment, all else fades away.

///

“What’s your favorite color?”

It’s an odd question to hear after twenty-three years of black and white and every variation of gray you can imagine. Your gaze flickers around the bedroom as your mind whirs through all the possibilities—brown, green, red? —before stuttering to a wrenching halt at the spots of murky gray that still stubbornly cling to your vision. “I don’t know, maybe red?” you venture tentatively.

Your answer seems to please your new roommate, for the grin that stretches across his face is positively blinding. “Oh? Does that have anything to do with me, by chance?” His tone is airy and teasing, and you wonder at his lightheartedness, wishing—not for the first time—that you could tap into his seemingly limitless joy.

“Actually, I’m just really fond of stop signs and maple trees,” is your sarcastic response.

Hoseok laughs and stretches out on the bed, settling comfortably next to you. “Of course. That makes much more sense. I guess I was being presumptuous.”

“Presumptuous is right,” you tell him, index finger prodding his chest accusingly. “But since the world has told me that you’re my soulmate, I guess I can forgive you.”

Hoseok lets out a satisfied hum. “Good.” And then his hand comes up to grasp the finger poking him, brushing along the ridges of your knuckles before sliding to your wrist and up your arm. Traversing the curve of your shoulder and the column of your neck, he stops only once he reaches your cheek, cupping it and bringing you in for a soft, lingering kiss.

You are both a little breathless upon separation, hearts fluttering just a touch faster. “So what about you?” you mumble, mere centimeters from his addictive mouth. “What’s your favorite color?”

“So far?” Hoseok blinks slowly, unintentionally mesmerizing you with the way his dark lashes flutter against his cheeks. “Green, I think. It’s so vivid, and it’s everywhere. Trees, grass… and I never even knew it until now. It’s like I’m seeing everything for the first time.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you tease. “But… I know exactly what you mean.”

“I just can’t believe I’ve spent twenty-four years like this,” he mutters. One hand reaches up to twirl a lock of your hair absentmindedly. “A quarter of my life with no green or red or brown… no you.” Your heart skips a beat at the wistfulness lurking in his eyes. “You know, my sister met her soulmate when she was ten. She practically grew up seeing color. I was always kind of jealous.”

You hum. “I can understand that. Wonder what that was like.”

“Hard to imagine, isn’t it?” Hoseok shifts so that he’s laying on his side, gazing intently at you.

“Mm. Yeah.”

Silence falls. Distantly, you can hear the soft hum of the refrigerator. Water rushes through the pipes somewhere in the ceiling above you, and you surmise that one of the neighbors must be in the shower. Closing your eyes, you nestle a bit closer to the heat of Hoseok’s body, his arms coming up to wrap around you as he tucks your head underneath his chin. You curl into his firm chest, marveling at just how perfectly you fit into him.

You inhale once, twice. A third time. Then you mumble a soft Hoseok into the fabric of his shirt. He hums curiously, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending shivers through your body. Taking another deep breath to compose yourself, you finally voice a question that has plagued you for as long as you have understood what seeing color meant. “Do you think there’s only one person—one soulmate—out there for each of us?”

He is quiet for a moment and you crane your head up to look at his face, searching for any sign of discomfort or anger at your question. You find none. Instead, his mouth is downturned in a way that tells you he’s considering your question quite seriously, bottom lip sticking out in the tiniest of pouts. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “Maybe we have both romantic and platonic soulmates. Or maybe we can have more than one of both. But we would never really know, would we? I mean, I wouldn’t know if I met my platonic soulmate now since I can already see color.”

You can’t resist poking some fun at him. “What if I’m actually your platonic soulmate?”

“If that’s the case, then kissing you was a very big mistake.” He snickers and tugs you flush against him, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Hey, that tickles,” you protest, giggling helplessly as you push halfheartedly at his shoulders. He only holds you tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning against your clavicle and sending all your prior worries and concerns flying out of your head. “You’re too warm now,” you whine, shoving him again. “I’m wearing a sweater, for goodness’ sake.”

You can feel the way his lips curve upward against the bare skin exposed by your neckline. “I know. It’s the same one you wore on our first date,” he mumbles.

A glance down at the chunky knit sends a slow smile melting across your face. “The purple one,” you breathe, fingering the frayed edge of your sleeve.

Hoseok doesn’t miss the awe in your tone. His head snaps up, brown eyes so wide it’s almost comical. “You… can you see…?” The question loses momentum and trails off into nothingness, but you simply bob your head up and down, mouth stretching so wide that it threatens to split from your jaw entirely.

“Yes.” The single word is enough to have Hoseok grabbing at your shoulders, frantic and buzzing with thinly veiled excitement. You find yourself flat on your back, his tongue poking out to swipe along his bottom lip instinctively as his eyes bore into yours, as if searching for something.

You don’t make him wait. Carefully, you kiss his top lip—paying special attention to the little mole that has always so fascinated you—and then his bottom lip, catching it gently in your teeth before pulling away. He barely gives you a chance to breathe before his mouth is slanting across yours once more, pouring pure heat into the kiss. His fingers trail down to the hem of your sweater and you arch, allowing him to tug it up and off.

“I think,” he murmurs, tossing the garment away and returning to hover over you with his arms on either side of your head, “that purple just became my second favorite color.” And then he’s leaning down to capture your lips once again, your arms winding around his neck and tugging him closer, closer, closer, until you can no longer tell where your body ends and his begins.

///

When you wake up, the world seems like a new place, infused with color. Golden sunlight filters through the crack in the drawn curtains, illuminating the hazy dust motes floating in the air. Hoseok is still fast asleep beside you, the pale sheets tangled around his legs and exposing the smooth, tanned expanse of his chest. The red of his hair is a startling contrast with the white pillow, and you resist the urge to reach out and run your fingers through the bright strands, unwilling to wake him and disrupt the peaceful morning.

Gingerly, you slide out from underneath the arm draped loosely around your waist. He stirs slightly when you sit up at the edge of the bed, fingers twitching as he unconsciously searches for you. Your gaze softens at the sight. Making your way around to his side of the bed, you tug the blanket up to cover his exposed chest and press a soft kiss to his temple before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and making your way to the kitchen.

There isn’t too much food in your refrigerator, so you make a mental note to run to the grocery store at the next possible opportunity. Pulling out a carton, you set it on the counter and stare at the eggs huddled inside contemplatively. Scrambled? Fried? Sunnyside up?

By the time Hoseok stumbles out of the bedroom, blearily rubbing his eyes and suppressing a huge yawn, you are hunched over the stove with a spatula, carefully trying to flip a lopsided omelet. “G’morning,” he greets, voice still raspy from sleep. “That smells good. Can I help?”

“You can set the table,” you offer, gesturing vaguely at the silverware drawer.

He chortles. “What, don’t trust me with cooking? I’ll have you know that I make a mean stir-fry.”

“Stir-fry for breakfast?” you ask incredulously, raising a brow.

Hoseok only laughs again, slinging an arm around your waist and pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple. “You’re underestimating me. I could make it work.”

“Sure, Hobi,” you snicker, patting his cheek. “You can cook next time, then. For now, can you grab the grapes from the fridge?”

Another twenty minutes passes before breakfast is ready, you and Hoseok stepping out onto the balcony with food and coffee in hand. You set the plates and mugs on the wrought iron table while Hoseok struggles to shut the sliding door, throwing his full weight against it.

“We really should… get this fixed,” he grunts out, finally managing to slide it shut.

The sight of him struggling with the stubborn door is oddly charming, and you voice the thought aloud to him a moment later. He raises a brow and comes to sit beside you, plucking up a grape and popping it in his mouth.

“You think I’m charming?”

“Only a little bit,” you reply, picking out a grape of your own.

Hoseok gives you one of his disarmingly brilliant grins. “A little, huh? I think I can change that.” Leaning back in his chair, he takes a contemplative sip of coffee, a whorl of steam escaping into the crisp air. “Might not have time to convince you today, though. I have to get to work soon.”

“Better start eating, then,” you say, handing him a fork.

For a few minutes, the two of you eat in companionable silence. Not for the first time, you are struck by how natural it feels to be with Hoseok. He looks absolutely perfect sitting there, one leg propped up lazily on the low railing. If you weren’t a believer in soulmates before, you certainly are beginning to warm up to the idea.

“You know,” he murmurs, exhaling audibly as he gazes up at the sky. “I never realized just how blue the sky is.”

Your heart stutters to a halt in your chest, missing several beats before racing to catch up. Suddenly the coffee in your mug is unbearably bitter, regardless of how much sugar you try to add. “Blue, you say?”

“Oh.” Hoseok’s expression is one of pure alarm, lips parted and eyes wide. “You mean… you can’t…?”

He doesn’t need to finish the question; your distraught expression is answer enough. “I’m sorry,” you both blurt out at the same time.

“Don’t apologize,” he says immediately, while you stumble over your words in an attempt to tell him no please, Hoseok, it’s not your fault and I’m sure I’ll see it soon.

Even as the words leave your mouth, you feel doubt unfurling in your stomach, digging its roots into your spine. From the very first day you met, Hoseok has gained colors quicker than you have, and neither of you are oblivious as to what that means. He’s falling in love with me faster than I’m falling for him. The thought sets your insides twisting.

“Hey, hey.” His hand is warm and reassuring on your shoulder, bringing you out of your daze. “Do you want me to stay home? I can probably find someone to cover my shift and Namjoon still owes me a favor—“ He trails off when you shake your head too quickly and almost drop your mug.

“No, please,” you rasp, offering him a smile that feels—and looks, you’re sure—more like a grimace. “Don’t miss work because of me. I’ll see you when you get back.”

He nods hesitantly, releasing your shoulder. Instead, his hand slides up and into your hair, angling your head back so that he can press a kiss to your forehead. “Take care of yourself today, okay? I’ll come home as soon as I can.”

The second the door closes behind him, you bury your face in your hands, feeling the first tears prick at the corners of your eyes. There is something more than simple doubt coiling in the pit of your stomach now—an acute sense of wrongness, somehow. You can’t quite put your finger on it but you can’t shake the feeling either, and it plagues you for the remainder of the morning and well into the afternoon. Even when Hoseok returns from his shift at the café and wraps you in his embrace, it remains. And even later still, when the two of you head over to Jimin’s housewarming party.

The feeling slithers up your ribcage and winds around your heart, constricting your insides as you do your best to relax on Jimin’s new couch beside Hoseok.

“It’s about time you got a proper couch,” Hoseok says with a laugh. “We’re not in college anymore.”

Jimin grins, raking a hand through his blond hair before leaning forward and clinking his beer bottle against the red-haired man’s. “Alas, the days of beanbag chairs and cheap futons are behind us.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Jungkook pipes up from where he’s leaning against the wall, nursing a glass of scotch. The amber liquid shines in the dim light. Slowly, you let your gaze wander around the room, taking in the splashes of color pervading the gray of your vision. Green cactus sitting in a red pot. Jungkook’s checkered orange and brown sweater. Hoseok’s purple jacket.

But the couch remains stubbornly devoid of any color, and you wonder bitterly if it’s blue.

///

It’s on a particularly murky day, complete with gray clouds and light drizzle, that you finally voice your looming concerns to Hoseok. He’s fresh out of the shower with his hair still dripping, clad in nothing but black sweatpants hanging loosely around his hips. Water droplets cling to every dip of his toned torso, and it takes every ounce of discipline you possess to resist the urge to touch him.

He is beautiful. Devastatingly so.

But you know that if you don’t tell him now, you never will.

Shutting your laptop, you set it down on the nightstand. “Hoseok,” you start, willing your gaze to remain on his brown eyes and not wander downward.

“What’s up?” he asks, turning toward the closet and rummaging through one of the drawers for a t-shirt.

“I… um.” The words stick in your throat, leaving you gaping like a fish out of water for a few moments.

It’s enough for Hoseok to realize something is wrong and he is beside you in an instant, pulling on the shirt before settling on the bed and laying a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What is it, {Name}?”

You shake your head. “I… I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” he says softly. “You can tell me anything.”

“No!” Your voice is louder than you intended, and he jumps, startled. “I… fuck,” you amend hastily, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “That’s not what I meant. I can’t … I can’t do this anymore.”

Hoseok blinks. “What?”

You taste blood and realize that you’ve broken through skin. “This,” you whisper. “Us.”

There is a long beat of silence, as Hoseok processes your words. Finally, his breath escapes him in a long whoosh, shoulders slumping forward. “You mean… you want to break up?”

Break up. The phrase sounds silly and inadequate, nowhere near enough to describe the depth of your relationship—and definitely not enough to describe the enormity of your heart-wrenching choice. You are choosing to leave your soulmate—your perfect match, the one destined to live steadfastly at your side. Nothing in life is certain, but your soulmate is supposed to be. But doubt and uncertainty continue to gnaw at your insides, tinged with an all-consuming fear. You can’t quite explain what you’re feeling, but you know one thing—one painful, irreconcilable thing that is all too revealing.

“I’ve stopped gaining colors.”

Hoseok freezes. Even his breath seems to hitch in his throat. From the bathroom, every soft plink of water dripping from the showerhead sounds like a gunshot.

“I… I know you can see all of them now,” you continue quietly. “You try to hide it so I won’t feel bad, but I can tell. The look on your face says it all. You’re an honest guy, Hoseok.”

He doesn’t try to deny it. Heaving a sigh, he looks forlornly up at you, damp red fringe falling into chocolate brown eyes. “I love you,” he says simply.

Tears prick your eyes at his easy confession. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “I’m sorry too,” he says, the words tumbling out as he exhales. “Maybe I should’ve done more, cared more, something.”

You shake your head. “No. Don’t you dare blame yourself. It’s me. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

It’s his turn to shake his head, one hand reaching up to touch your cheek softly. “I think you need some time to think,” he murmurs. “I do, too. And I think we both could use some space.”

“Hoseok…”

He pulls his hand away reluctantly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I can stay with Jimin for a while.” A pause. “I’ll send someone to pick up my stuff tomorrow.”

And then he’s standing up, striding out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the front door. Stopping at the coat closet, he stuffs a beanie over his hair and grabs his jacket and keys. You are frozen in the bedroom doorway, watching him check his pocket for his wallet.

He casts one last glance back at you as his hand settles on the doorknob, his face unreadable. Only his eyes, brown and expressive as ever, give away his inner turmoil. “Goodbye, {Name}.”

The door shuts behind him, and he’s gone.

///

The bed is oddly cold without him.

Some nights, you shoot awake in the middle of the night, the strangest sense of loss twisting your insides. Mornings find you tangled in a mess of blankets and pillows, nearly immobile.

And every day, the sky is gray.

Weeks pass in stagnant routine. Every workday drags by, the second hand of the clock orbiting endlessly until the sun finally begins to dip down toward the horizon and you can return to your lonely apartment. The last weak rays of the setting sun are still slanted across the white walls when you walk inside, painting them with streaks of gold, and the sight never fails to remind you of him. He lights up every room he enters with his insurmountable positivity and his smile alone could banish storms. But the gray clouds in your life remain, floating aimlessly across the gray sky overshadowing your incomplete world. Every day, the colors in your vision seem to dull. The arrival of winter sends dead leaves—so vibrant just a few weeks prior—spiraling to the cold ground. Green is no longer so vivid, and even purple seems to fade into a strange, lifeless hue.

Sometimes, you find yourself staring at the screen of your phone, thumb hovering over Hoseok’s name. It would be so easy to call him and beg him to return, but something stops you every time. Maybe it’s pride, or maybe it’s shame. Maybe you hesitate because you still cannot see the color blue and he deserves someone who can love him fully, the way he deserves to be loved. Maybe it’s all of these things combined.

For the umpteenth time, you sigh and shove your phone back into your pocket. The words on your desktop monitor are beginning to blur and you blink, rubbing at your eyes. You have a few more menial tasks to complete before the end of the day, and you are determined to throw yourself into your work and distract your brain from wandering to familiar brown eyes and a bright smile.

Just as you are shutting down your computer for the evening, a conversation from the cubicle next door catches your attention. You don’t recognize either voice, but the hushed quality of their tones is enough to draw your continued interest.

“His soulmate passed away? That’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

A heavy sigh. “Yes, he’s absolutely devastated.”

“And… is it true, what they say? About, uh, losing colors?”

There is a long pause before the answer comes. Unconsciously, you find yourself leaning forward, on the edge of your chair as you wait.

“Yes.”

All the air leaves your lungs at the broken affirmation. You’ve heard the rumors and read about it in books, but never have you heard it confirmed so openly.

“But, you know what he said to me yesterday?” your coworker continues from the other side of the wall. “He said that he’s grateful. Grateful that he met her, even if she left before her time. Can you imagine going through life and never meeting your soulmate?”

Never meeting your soulmate. The words reverberate in your head, growing louder and louder until it’s all you can think about. In a daze, you gather your belongings and slip into your coat. As the cool winter air rushes to greet you, all you can think about is warm brown eyes dancing above a dazzling smile, set in a face that you have tried—and failed—to forget.

///

There is a chill in the air when you wake up the next morning, the blankets twisted around your body. One of your pillows is on the floor—no doubt from all the nightly tossing and turning. Grumbling, you manage to extricate yourself from the tangled mess, your joints creaking in protest at the movement. Nothing in the world sounds more heavenly than a hot shower, so you head to the bathroom, brushing your teeth while waiting for the running water to heat up.

When you leave the bathroom again, you feel considerably more human. Pawing around in your dresser, you dig out your comfiest sweater and pants, pulling them on before padding over to the bedroom window and drawing the curtains.

It must have snowed during the night, for the world outside glistens like diamonds in the wan sunlight. Snow covers the surrounding buildings, glass windowpanes coated in frost. Down below, skeletal black trees poke up from the layer of white blanketing the ground.

But nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the sky, stretching out onto the horizon as far as you can see. A choked gasp escapes your throat, garbled and hoarse.

And then you are running, barely remembering to throw on a pair of flats and grabbing your keys before flying out of your apartment and into the street below.

You only vaguely remember where Jimin’s house is, but the adrenaline pounding through your veins sharpens your memory and fuels your foot on the gas pedal. It couldn’t have taken longer than seven minutes to drive there, but for you it feels like an eternity of gazing frantically over your dashboard, your hands gripping the wheel so tightly that they turn white. By the time you pull up to the brick building you are frantic with anxiety, parking on the side of the street haphazardly and dashing out, slipping and sliding your way up the walkway to the front door.

For a moment, you hesitate, clenched fist hovering just above the wooden surface.

Inhaling deeply, you try to gather your jumbled thoughts. One breath does nothing to soothe your fraught nerves, so you take another. A third. A fourth. And then you squeeze your eyes shut and knock on the door.

When it swings open, you recognize the man standing there immediately as Park Jimin. His blond hair is a little disheveled, eyes raking over your harried appearance with worry and confusion. “Uh, hey.”

“Jimin,” you say, voice barely above a raspy whisper. “I-is he here?”

His eyes scan you once more, searching, wondering, assessing. Something about your appearance must satisfy him, though, for a second later, he nods and turns to call for the man you came to see.

Something inside you breaks when Jung Hoseok steps into your line of vision. Surprise flickers across his expression when he catches a glimpse of you and morphs into one of pain before he manages to school his features into something more neutral. But when the tears pricking at your eyes overflow and dampen your cheeks, his entire face softens, melting into concern.

“Hoseok,” you murmur, soft and reverent. “Hoseok.”

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, taking half a step toward you before pausing. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You can wait no longer. Lurching forward unsteadily, you throw your arms around his neck, burying your face into his warm chest as the tears begin to fall in earnest. “H-Hoseok,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

His arms come up to wrap around you, slowly rubbing circles into your tense shoulders. “Hey,” he repeats. “Don’t say that. Why are you sorry?”

You inhale shakily, and then all the words come out at once, a jumbled mess of ardent apologies and incoherent ramblings about your weeks apart and I’m sorry I was scared but the sky is so blue and so beautiful and I love you so, so much and when you finally fall silent, you can only wonder whether or not he caught any of your rushed words.

Your answer comes in the form of his hands sliding down to curl around your waist, soft lips meeting yours. He smells vaguely like coffee beans and sandalwood and something else that is distinctly him, and you know you are exactly where you want to be.

Hoseok feels like home. He is clear sunlight filtering through autumn leaves and a hot drink on a chilly day. He loves you and you love him, and you know that as long as you’re together, you’ll be able to navigate through life even with all its uncertainties.

For the first time, you live in a beautiful, vibrant world filled with color, and it’s all because of him.

Hoseok.

Your soulmate.

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