#my darling yee haw son back at it again with the good prompts

[live-from-flaturn]

hey bestie!

for the prompt game: 1, 12, or 50 (I'm allergic to choices, sorry) 💚🥰👀

OH YOU ARE JUST THE ABSOLUTE BEST!

Here's #1: "There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close". Which turned into a SOULMATE AU also. Bonus treat.

Wordcount: approx. 800

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Title: "One. Two. Three."

Chay was on his way home from delivering a late meal to Porsche at Hum Bar when he heard a man’s voice shout: “Don’t let the little bastard get away!” 

He jolted back onto his heels, obscuring himself in the shadows while his eyes automatically began a frantic search for the speaker. Were they talking about him? Were these some debt-collector’s goons meant to haul him back to HQ for a ‘conversation’ with their boss? 

The answer was a definitive ‘no’, thank fuck. Whoever had shouted was most definitely not after the scrawny nineteen-year-old university student currently plastering his back against the brick mouth of the alleyway. Chay peered nervously around the corner to catch the action and found six men in patterned button-ups chasing down a younger, shorter man. 

To his continued shock, Chay recognized their prey.

“P’Wik?!”

He didn’t know why his idol was being chased down a backstreet in a questionable area of town dressed from head to toe in black athleisure, and he didn’t need to know. What Chay did know (and firmly believed in) was that celebrities deserved to have their privacy respected. The herd of strangely dressed men probably worked as paparazzi or gossip columnists and had stalked Wik down for an interview about his latest single. The rudeness of it all had Chay’s blood boiling in the space between seconds.

Chay had two seconds to hype himself up before Wik darted past his hiding place. He reached out and snagged his idol by the arm, yanking Wik into the alley. He spun them so the singer’s back met the wall and released his arm, only to cover his mouth immediately. “I’m so sorry, P’Wik, but please be quiet!” 

Wik’s beautiful brown eyes, which had initially flared with panic and anger at being grabbed quite literally off the street, softened by a noticeable degree. He nodded slowly and lifted one hand from his side to remove Chay’s fingers where they’d curled over his mouth. Chay flushed hot enough to sting and stepped back, nearly braining himself on the opposite wall. 

Right. With two people filling the tiny space there wasn’t much, well… Space.

They didn’t have time to contemplate the awkwardness of their situation or Chay’s idiocy because Wik’s pursuers thundered past in a herd. The two young men tensed in unison and Chay instinctively leaned forward, slipping into a casual lean against the wall. He angled his shoulders and hips to keep the singer hidden, lip caught anxiously between his teeth.

“I didn’t think it would happen like this.”

Despite the men still shouting and clamoring in the near distance and despite their uncomfortable proximity, Chay’s entire focus narrowed in on his idol’s voice. He knew those words. He knew them well.

“Did you– I, uhm–” He spluttered, words so soft they were mostly garbled nonsense. “Are you my soulmate?!”

Wik tugged up the sleeve of his dri-fit running shirt and flashed the words: I’m so sorry, P’Wik, but please be quiet!

Chay giggled wetly and slid his hoodie out of the way: I didn’t think it would happen like this.

“So you’re a fan?” Wik murmured, lips hovering between a smile and a grimace. Chay didn’t know people could make that kind of face, but here he stood. The sole witness to a miracle. 

Chay blinked. “No?”

“Will you run away screaming if I say superfan?”

“Will you run away screaming if I tell you those guys weren’t paparazzi?”

“Well then, angel, I suppose it’s nice to meet you. I’m your soulmate, and my real name is Kim.”

“Kim.” It tasted spicy and warm on Chay’s tongue. He couldn’t be more thrilled.  “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m Porchay. My friends call me Chay.”

“What should your soulmate call you?”

“I liked angel,” Chay grinned. This had to be a dream, so he might as well shoot his shot. “Angel was nice.”

“Alright, then,” Kim wrapped an arm around his waist and jerked his chin in the direction of the opposite alley entrance. “Ready to run?”

“Promise I don’t have to wake up when this part is over?”

“Fuck, you’re cute. I don’t deserve this.” Kim laughed outright, the not-paparazzi now apparently forgotten. The pure, joyful sound of it speared Chay through the chest and pinned him against the rough brick. His soulmate and idol were one in the same… And he was happy with Chay?! Kim’s voice brought him back to reality, “We’re going to sprint on three, alright? When we get out the other side, whatever happens, don’t let go of my hand. Okay?”

“Never, P’Kim.”

“Perfect. Ready?” 

Chay nodded.

“One.” Kim reached down and tangled their fingers together with intentional slowness. 

“Two,” Chay breathed, squeezing gently and feeling Kim squeeze back.

“Three.”