#nct soulmates au

[mysnoopyvalentine]

can't help myself

kim doyoung x reader

word count: 12.3k

genre: soulmates!au, fluff, parallel universes, strangers to lovers (ish)

warnings: implied sex, kissing, swearing

playlist: Can’t Help Myself (NCT 127), I’m In Love with You (the 1975), Say Yes (Loco, Punch)

summary: In a skeptical culture where soulmates don’t always live happily ever after, you begin dreaming of your ideal man long past the average age of soulmate visions. You may love Doyoung in every universe, but does that really mean you’re meant to be? Even when the Doyoung of your reality is an idol?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It happens when you least expect it.

You get ready for bed early on New Year’s Eve without the intention of staying up late to ring in the new year.

Your phone vibrates on the nightstand, displaying the contact picture of your best friend Meg.

It would be easier to ignore it and pretend like you’re busy, but you know that Meg is nosy enough to check your location. She’ll see you’re at home in an instant and call you a million times anyway.

“Hey,” you feign ignorance as you pick up. “What’s up?”

“I know that your ass is not at home right now,” she groans. “You should’ve told me! I would’ve taken you out with me and David!”

“Come on, you know I don’t really go out for New Year’s anymore.”

You stopped doing so a couple of years back due to the fact that it just made you feel more hopeless for the upcoming year. You have plenty of luck in your career and general day-to-day life, but the men you encounter in the dating pool are horrendous. New Year’s was just one of those holidays that made you feel lonely even in the midst of a fulfilling life.

“I know you hate third wheeling on New Year’s Eve, but I still feel like it’s a good opportunity to try meeting someone. Come out and meet us downtown!” Meg insists.

You look at the clock. 9:59PM. That’s not nearly enough time to get ready, uber downtown, and desperately try to ensure a New Year’s Kiss. You don’t have the energy to flirt with strangers these days, anyway. “Hell no. I’m good.”

Meg tries to persuade you for the next five minutes, but no amount of free drinks, food, or money can convince you to leave your place. At the end of it all, she finally concedes. “Fine, stay home.”

“That was the plan,” you say coolly. You love her, but her persistence in treating your singleness as a condition to be cured grates on your nerves.

“Want me to manifest a soulmate vision for you tonight instead of a New Year’s kiss?”

You snort. “Now you’re really being delusional. I don’t think my soulmate exists, considering that I’ve never had a single soulmate vision in all these years.”

The concept of your soulmate was the fallback argument of most people as a last-ditch effort to prevent you from giving up on dating. Usually it comes off disingenuous, like they’re just dangling a carrot above your head for romantic motivation. Meg and David, however, are soulmates—meaning they serve as a genuine reminder that soulmates do work out. Sometimes.

Everyone knows the common signs of a soulmate bond. First, the visions: 90% of all soulmate pairs report experiencing a series of visions about a stranger. They don’t appear as a background person either—soulmate visions are vivid experiences characterized by their extreme detail. Most of the time each soulmate experiences the other’s memories. Rarer, some soulmates would even share visions, allowing them to interact before meeting in the real world.

Dreams are the most common manifestation of this phenomenon, but there’s enough people that don’t have theirs linked to sleep to justify the term ‘vision’ instead. Most pairs start seeing their other half during their teenage years; others, like Meg, meet their soulmate so early that they barely experience any visions at all.

For those who do experience them, one fact is absolute across the board: all accounts of soulmate visions end once you see them in person.

The second, less pleasant aspect of having a soulmate is the intense physical reaction towards seeing them physically for the first time. Symptoms appear spontaneously with fainting, vomiting, and migraines being the most common. Around 30% of soulmate encounters end up with at least one party requiring some form of medical attention.

On this night, experiencing dreams of a stranger or feeling violently ill don’t sound like the most appealing things on the planet. You’ll pass.

Meg says your name, snapping you to attention. “…You really don’t have to ice me out for a soulmate joke, I can just stop.”

“No, you’re good. The soulmate thing is funny.” You force out a laugh. “If I happen to have a soulmate vision on New Year’s Eve, maybe that’s a sign that things will actually work out.”

“Oh, shut up, there’s no way for him to resist if you do have one.”

If. The word bounces around in your head. Of all people, even Meg wasn’t sure that you had a karmic link waiting for you.

“Well, you shouldn’t let my singleness ruin your night with David. I’ll talk to you guys later.” You hang up the phone before she can answer.

You see a text notification pop up on your phone, but you place your phone facedown on the nightstand instead. You lean onto your side and turn off your lamp.

The quiet of your apartment has your mind churning. Even if you do have a soulmate, would it even work out?

While a good number of the population encounters their soulmate in real life, the amount of successful relationships resulting from that encounter are surprisingly low. Confidence in soulmate pairings had lowered with the younger generations, especially with researchers studying the science behind soulmate dreams and reactions. Hopeless romantics believed wholeheartedly in soulmate pairs, while more pragmatic people posed the same question—if scientists are able to explain why dreams and physical reactions happen between two people, is there anything truly fated about it?

You’re not certain where you stand on the matter. Scientists aren’t close to discovering anything concrete anyway, so you deal with this big philosophical question in the best way you know: ignoring it.

No use thinking about it anyway, when you’re long past the average age of experiencing initial soulmate dreams.

You let your mind wander elsewhere as you close your eyes and drift slowly to sleep.

That’s when he appears.   

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Flowers surround you in an open field. The sunlight warms your face, and the breeze carries the soft, fresh scents of springtime. You balk as you look down at your hands; you’re holding an artist palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other.

An easel right at the edge of your vision catches your eye. You turn towards it in hopes of making sense of the situation—maybe this dream was fulfilling a brief childhood dream of becoming a landscape artist—but you feel your heart drop.

The painting lacks any landscape at all. Instead, it depicts a near-finished portrait of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

His eyes, dark but warm, catch your attention first. Combined with his pouty lips and slender face, he’s the epitome of your type. What’s the most striking to you, however, is the gentle nature captured in his expression. The pose you’ve chosen depicts his shoulders turned away from the viewer, yet his gaze stares at you directly. His lips are curved slightly upwards in a playful smile, as if he’s just teased the viewer. Unequivocally handsome features softened in all the right places.

There’s a quiet sound of shoes shuffling on the grass. A tuft of black hair peeks up from over the canvas.

“Do you need anything else from me?”

After a beat of silence, a full head pokes out from the side of the easel, and everything stops. It’s the man from the painting in front of you—smooth skin, soft smile, and perfect everything in all. He says your name once in the tone of a question, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Is everything okay? Are you upset because I moved?”

You open your mouth to speak—to clarify that no, everything is not okay and ask who are you, anyway? —but something else emerges from your lips entirely.

“You can move. I’m almost done. Do you want to see it?”

The words are yours, technically. You feel and hear yourself saying them, but your thoughts and emotions are completely disconnected from your body. The same goes for your movements; this artistic version of you mixes paint absentmindedly.

The man from the painting fully emerges from behind the canvas, revealing his full height. He’s dressed in jeans and a simple white button-up. His face in the spring daylight looks otherworldly; it’s clear why you’d chosen to paint him in this lighting. You’re certain that you’ve never seen him before, in your real life, but something about him feels familiar. Comfortable. He walks up beside you, peering at his likeness from over your shoulder.

You shift your weight from left to right. “Do you like it?”

He hums. “Well…”

You scoff. “You can be honest.”

“I’m kidding,” he laughs. It’s the kind of good-natured laugh that’s both contagious and friendly.

You’re about to say something else when he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“You know I think you’re a genius,” he says softly in your ear. “That’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with you.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead as you feel your dream fade away to consciousness.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Light passes through a gap in your curtains and warms your face, waking you up from your springtime dream.

You sit up, blinking out the sleep from your eyes.

Your phone is in your hand and Meg’s number is dialed before you can even think by yourself.

“Happy New Year, bitch!” Meg’s voice chirps over the phone. “What’s up?”

“I think I just had a soulmate dream,” you say, breathless.

Silence. Then, her scream peaks the mic on her phone and nearly makes your ears bleed. You wince and move your phone away from your face to put her on speakerphone instead.

“You’re messing with me!” She shrieks. “There’s no way!”

“That’s the thing.” You rub at your temple, as if that will stop the ringing in your ears. “I’m not completely sure. Most people see their partner’s past memories, right?”

 There’s some clicking on her end. “I wouldn’t really know, but I can look it up for you.”

“Most soulmate visions involve seeing past memories from your soulmate’s perspective,” she reads. “However, at least 20% of soulmate bonds report experiencing a vision of their futures instead. Does this sound like you? Did it seem like you were seeing something from the future?”

“Not unless I suddenly gain enough art skill to become an artist.”

For once, Meg is speechless. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding. I was painting his portrait. A very well done, professional looking portrait.”

“That’s crazy,” she snorts. Like you, she doesn’t even try to entertain the delusion that it could be a future version of yourself. You can barely draw a stick figure. “Well, some people see parallel versions of themselves, apparently?”

“Parallel versions?” You echo.

“Apparently some pairs claim that they see each other, but in other versions of reality,” she reports. “Sounds kind of romantic to me.”

“What’s the percentage of that?”

“No official numbers on it because it’s so rare. Mostly anecdotal stories.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. Sorry to get your hopes up. All that soulmate talk before bed probably just made my brain a little overactive.”

Meg’s line is quiet. “Well, I don’t think we can really rule it out yet.”

You don’t let yourself dwell on it. As many soulmate skeptics as there are, there’s an equal amount of people embellishing stories to try to strongarm others into believing. You’d believe in the idea of parallel universes when there’s something more than an online reddit thread to go off of.

“You can hold out hope. I’m moving on.” You rack your brain for other topics. “I still have that date tomorrow with that guy, if that makes you feel better.”

Meg floods you with questions—What are you wearing? Where did you decide? Can you send me his profile? You would normally regret opening yourself to too much questioning prior to any date, but you’re just relieved to steer her away from the concept of your soulmate.

The rest of your day goes by normally. You’re a little more fatigued than usual, but with the day off from work you’re able to finish all of your errands with extra time to rest.

You’re relaxing in your room as you watch YouTube videos on your TV with a face mask cooling your face. You open your laptop absentmindedly to parse through your emails.

One promotional ad catches your eye – Try a Spring Art Class for Free! You click it; the ad is for a local crafts store that you’d visited for a friend’s birthday gift. The store lists five promotional classes. You hover your cursor over a hyperlink titled Fundamentals of Portrait Drawing.

You nearly slam your laptop closed as you come back to your senses. One beginner class wasn’t going to turn you into an artist. You don’t have time to balance a whole craft with the demands of your full-time job, anyway.

Your phone vibrates. It’s Evan—your second date for tomorrow.

Excited to see you! He texts.

You type back a similarly empty message before turning off your phone. Your first date with him had been fun enough to warrant a second, but you don’t expect much this time around. That was a recurring issue Meg didn’t let you live down—every person you talked to seemed to be lacking in at least one area. Your ideal partner needed to be communicative and emotionally intelligent. They also needed to be ambitious with their own goals and community. All while having romantic chemistry with yourself.

Evan was lacking in the communication department, and you’d felt your interest wane since the first date. You wouldn’t have even considered the second date if it wasn’t for Meg in your ear to nag that your standards were too high. Sometimes, although you’d never admit it out loud, you wondered if you were even capable of a romantic love like that. It seemed too easy for everyone else.

At least your time with Evan would be mindless and relatively expectation-free. With that in mind, you drift off into an easy sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Lips brush against your forehead as light as a feather. “Are you awake?”

You grunt your assent without opening your eyes.

A huff of laughter followed by another peck. “Very convincing.”

You blink your eyes open at that. A pair of dark brown eyes gaze back at you in the dim light. Your heartbeat, already strangely fast for someone asleep, quickens in your chest at the sight.

It’s the man from the painting. He’s propped his head up on one arm as he smiles down at you in open affection. His bangs are pushed away from his forehead, although the black hairs still cling slightly to his skin. His bare chest heaves as he breathes in deeply.

You sigh. “See? I’m awake.”

He laughs louder this time. His eyes crinkle when he laughs and his smile—his real smile—exposes a faint pink line of gums over his teeth. You understand why another version of you would be compelled to capture his likeness through art. You couldn’t explain it to someone if you tried; there’s something about his presence that’s ethereal.

“Why are you smiling?” He asks.

You kind of look like a rabbit, you want to tease, but, again, you’re unable to move your mouth on its own accord.

“Just looking at you,” your voice responds nonchalantly.

His smile softens at that. He reaches his free arm over and caresses the side of your face. His hand follows the length of your neck before travelling further down your back. Your bare back. It dawns on you that, underneath the silk covers, you are completely naked.

Your breath catches as his hand rests on the curve of your hip. His thumb draws small circles around the skin, which makes the nerves underneath electric to his touch.

“Hey now,” you laugh shakily. “What are you trying to do?”

He only raises an eyebrow before pressing light kisses down your neck. “What do you think?”

Your heart flutters. Against your thoughts, your mouth mutters, “I think I’m going to be extra tired taking care of the kids tomorrow morning.”

His kisses drift back up and stop with a final peck behind your ear. “I’ll look after them in the morning. You sleep in.”

“That may be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He huffs a laugh but pulls away from you.

You lean forward to re-close the space and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m joking. What’s wrong?”

His expression turns thoughtful. “Do you need me to pick up more things around the house? Leave work earlier? I know having two under the age of five is rough already…”

Your heart warms. You run a hand through his hair, smiling as he leans into your touch. “I love you and our kids more than I’ve ever loved anything else. Our life together is perfect.”

He presses a kiss into your open palm. His eyes turn playful. “You know what could make it more perfect?”

“What?”

He catches your lips in his, kissing you deeply. Your lips move against each other in a way that’s clearly familiar—soft to the touch but intense enough to take your breath away.

“Well...” He murmurs against your lips in between kisses. “What do you say we turn two into three?”

You’re pulled out of the scene before you can hear yourself respond.  

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You hear the wind rattling against your office windows as you leave for the day. It’s a chore to even get outside in the first place, on account of the wind pushing back on the lobby door.  When you finally manage to exit the building, the wind threatens to blow you over with each gust.

You curse under your breath. It’s just another inconvenience added to today.

You’d shot out of bed with your heart pounding through your chest. Even someone like you couldn’t deny the obvious truth of the situation—you had officially experienced soulmate visions. While it’s unclear why your visions manifest this way, you cannot ignore the magnetic pull and strange familiarity tugging at your core whenever you see him. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before.

And you hate the idea that people might be right; that someone’s entire universe could halt and re-align at the drop of a hat with no rhyme or reason. Bitterness lines this worldview for you—clearly, you had been able to make a name for yourself without the promise of a fated partner. You love your job, you love your friends, and you’re at peace. All possible because of the time and effort you invested into yourself.

You’ve considered cancelling your date with Evan multiple times to fully sort out your emotions, but you push on. Your date with him feels like something bigger–a loose end that might tie all the chaos in your life together in a cohesive picture.

Evan leans against the brick walls of the restaurant. He straightens his posture as you approach. He’s much taller than you remember; you’d basically been sitting the entire time during your first date, and honestly you’d begun to forget specific features about him.

“Hey!” He grins as he holds the door open for you. “How have you been?”

“Pretty decent, all things considered,” you say as you duck under his arm. “Same old stuff.”

He laughs at that–a little too hard, considering what you said was not meant to be funny at all. “Come on. Nothing exciting on your side of the city?”

Yeah, let me tell you about the sensual yet also incredibly domestic dream I had about another man, you think. He’s probably my soulmate too, by the way.

“That weather is probably the most exciting thing about my week,” you lie with a pinched smile.

Evan lets out a laugh that’s again too loud as he pulls out your chair for you.

Throughout all of the small talk and pleasantries, you can’t really fault Evan for anything specific. He’s polite, relatively cute, and likeable. He actively listens and remembers the small details from your stories while also contributing to the conversation. He also seems really into you; his gaze lingers on your features and hangs on to every word you say.

You try to be an attentive date, but your mind keeps drifting elsewhere. You order another drink, but each sip of alcohol seems to make your mind swirl away even farther.

What do you say we make two into three?

Considering you don’t have a serious partner, you hadn’t thought about the possibility of kids in a long time. The caring tone that he used towards you still makes your heart race when you think about it.

Our life together is perfect.

Your own voice feels like a weapon stabbing at you over and over. It’s one thing to exist in these visions already; experiencing them without free will seems to shove all the possible outcomes down your throat. Is there really someone out there that can make you feel that way?

“Ready to head out?”

You snap back into attention as Evan stands by, waiting to pull your chair out for you. You appreciate his acts of chivalry even when you don’t deserve it.

Partially out of guilt, you let him take your hand as he walks with you through some nearby Christmas lights that the city has failed to take down. The atmosphere is perfect; there’s hardly any other people nearby, the weather has calmed down, and your date is kind and attentive.

Yet everything still feels wrong.

When you draw closer to your initial meeting point, he strokes the top of your hand with his thumb. “May I kiss you?”

Under normal circumstances, you would not kiss him right now. But another part of you urges you to try it. You technically know Evan more than the mystery man from your dreams. The likelihood of you feeling something with him should be just as high.

You nod with a swallow. Evan leans forward and presses his lips to yours. It moves too quickly, at first–he’s so nervous that he nearly misses your mouth, and you’re so on edge that you almost forget to reciprocate.

All to say that your first real kiss in forever is a complete dud. You move your lips mindlessly and calmly against his until you withdraw with a polite smile. Evan, for his part, looks mesmerized.

“Thanks for today,” you say with a smile.

“I…” He runs a hand through his hair. “My offer to drive is still on the table, you know. I could drive you back to your place. Or mine.”

Your stomach drops. “I–”

You must have a look on your face because Evan cuts you off before you can say anything else. “I’m just joking.”

It’s not a joke, clearly, but you accept the out. “I have some errands to run, and I don’t want to make you go all over the place for me.”

“Right,” Evan says after a pause.

The moment lingers another beat too long.

“Today was a lot of fun,” you lie. “I’ll talk to you later!”

You turn on your heel and walk away casually until you turn the corner. Then, you duck into the nearest convenience store and call an Uber.

Later, you hear the disappointment dripping from Meg’s voice.

“No, it was the right call to do what was comfortable for you,” she hums. “But did you really have to be thinking about your soulmate the entire time?”

“It’s hard not to when I just found out that I actually have one!” You frown, as if she can see you. “I tried.”

“I know,” Meg sighs. “Well, let’s hope you see him in your dreams again soon.”

An entire month passes. Specifics about the contours of your soulmate’s face and details of his body start to blur from your memory, but what you remember most is the kindness dancing in his eyes. The care in which he spoke about you and your little family. You fall asleep early each night in anticipation only to be let down in the morning.

Instead, it happens next on an irrelevant day. Your shoes are kicked off after a long day of work, and you’re halfway across your living room when a bright light sears behind your eyelids. You throw yourself onto the couch with what little consciousness you have left before plunging into darkness.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Meg brushes a stray hair into place. “There you go.”

The soft tones of a piano drift through the glass doors in front of you. You see the blur of a crowd outside, although it’s hard to discern through the frosted glass panes.

“Does everything look okay?” Your throat feels tight and your voice comes out breathy.

“Beautiful.”

“I’m scared,” you hear yourself whisper. “What if I’m believing in soulmates too blindly?”

Meg snorts. “A little late for that, don’t you think? If anything, you’re giving me the hope that I’ll meet my person. The two of you are absolutely disgusting together; if this doesn’t work out then all the rest of us are fucked.”

You don’t respond.

Meg rolls her eyes, tugging your arm to turn you to the left. A floor length mirror leans against the wall. It contains a lettered seating chart for all your guests with some names familiar and some foreign. You swallow at your reflection through the text.

It's truly an image out of a dream. Fabric drapes and hugs you in the ways you’ve always wanted. Your bouquet is made of elegant white flowers apart from a few blossoms popping out in shades of light pink. You’d so long put romance in the back of your mind that it’s jarring to see yourself like this. You smile at your reflection, embodying the image of elegance.

“It’s time then,” your voice rings, more confident than before.

The doors open in front of you, causing the crowd outside to rise from their seats. The piano transitions into a slow melody. The flower girl, waiting by the entrance with her mother, steps a few paces in front of you to begin dropping pink petals.

You walk down the aisle with your head held high. If you’re still shaken by your cold feet minutes prior, it doesn’t show anymore.

You’re not surprised to see a familiar lean figure at the end of the aisle. You are surprised, however, when he sees you for the first time.

His face lights up in pure elation. His smile broadens so big and wide that his gums peek out a little. There’s a light shine to his eyes that makes your heart clench. It’s as much your reaction as it is for this version of you. It’s almost too much to bear. He already looks ridiculously handsome in his wedding tuxedo, but the open emotion in his face (for you) makes him all the more mesmerizing.

You stop in front of him. This version of you has grown a little shy; your face warms as you raise your eyes up slowly to meet his.

You barely hear the officiant over the sound of your pounding heart. It’s only once the vows start that you catch what’s being said. What he’s saying.

“One thing I want to start off with is saying that we weren’t supposed to meet that day. I was helping my best friend, Taeyong, who was too hungover to pick up his phone that he’d left at a girl’s house…”

There’s a slight pause as a chuckle passes through the crowd. One groomsman—presumably Taeyong—rolls his eyes with a smile. It’s clearly a story that everyone knows well.

“The last thing I ever expected was for the girl’s very cute roommate to open the door. Let alone have the realization that they were the soulmate I’d been seeing in my dreams.” His eyes lift up, sparkling and happy. “Meeting you that day changed the entire course of my life. You are the best thing to happen to me…my best friend, confidant, and greatest love. Your love and endless faith make me a better man. I promise to protect you and be there by your side when things get hard. I promise to show up for you in all of the little moments—not just the big ones. I choose to love you in this lifetime and all the others that may be. I love you.”

You feel your mouth moving, but your mind races from the realization. This lifetime. All the others that may be.

This, like the dream of yourself as an artist, was not your life. Was Meg right? Were these glimpses into other versions of yourself?

You’d been completely different in the first vision. There is no chance of you becoming an advanced artist at this point, that’s for sure. The second dream had no identifying differences, other than the fact that you had two children with this man. This version of you seemed more like yourself, but Meg was the biggest outlier. She clearly hadn’t met David and doesn’t even fully believe in soulmates.  Additionally, you’d been out of college for years—meeting him during school could not be a future possibility. Soulmate visions of other universes seemed so rare and far-fetched that you’d found it easy to dismiss it as a tall tale, but you didn’t know what else could explain this.

“I…” You startle back into this reality as you speak your own name. “…vow to take you, Doyoung, as my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

Doyoung, you think as he slips the ring onto your finger. I finally know his name.

“By the power vested in me by the support of this community and strength of your love, I now pronounce you wed. You may kiss.”

Doyoung squares his shoulders to yours. He’s a little too stiff in the movement, which makes you giggle. The sound of your laugh relaxes a smile to his face. He tilts your chin up with his hand so that your eyes meet his.

“I love you,” he whispers before pulling you, finally, into a deep kiss.

His lips are velvet soft and fit perfectly to yours. The crowd erupts into whoops and cheers that begin to fade into the background.

Not now, you think, distantly. It would be nice to stay here. For a while.

You’re pulled out against your will. You let yourself be lost in Doyoung’s touch until the end.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You type and erase strings of characters on your phone.

“…I enjoyed our time together, but I think we should see other people,” you read aloud. “Too dramatic?”

Meg waves a hand dismissively. “Who cares? You’re not seeing him again.”

“He’s a nice guy, Meg.”

“He’s boring, and you’re being toonice,” she replies. “Just send it.”

You do a quick onceover of your message before pressing the send button. You immediately turn your phone off and flip it upside down.

“Now that was dramatic.”

You glare at Meg from your position on your couch. She sits on the other side, scrolling through something on her laptop.

“So!” She says with a flourish. “What’s the plan?”

“…The plan?”

 “Do you want to meet Doyoung?”

You’d had a handful more soulmate visions since learning Doyoung’s name. Your lives together spanned endless locations intertwined with different professions—from what you gathered from your visions, other versions of you had met Doyoung through school, work, and even a particularly strange meet-cute of being his regular barista. The peek into these various lifetimes left you curious and a little bit weary; each subsequent vision was harder to leave than before, and you’d experienced so many that slipping in and out of these other realities felt like second nature.

Without fail, however, Doyoung stays the same. Each version contains the same kindhearted nature you’d glimpsed ever since the first. You’ve never seen the same version of Doyoung twice, but you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Yet even so, the idea of hunting down your Doyoung sends a wave of uncertainty through you. It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you.

“I…don’t know if I want to meet him,” you admit out loud.

You expect the worst reaction from Meg—a shriek, gasp, or even straight up shouting—but instead, she purses her lips. “Why?”

“I’m not sure he’ll be very impressed with me,” you say. You try to pick up your phone to look busy, but you glimpse Evan’s name on your screen instead.

Thanks for letting me know. I hope you find—

You put your phone back down.

Meg stares at you. “You think he’s going to be unimpressed because you have your shit together?”

“Well—”

“What if he’s a loser?”

“He’s not!” You shriek. In truth, you have no idea what your Doyoung does or where he is.

“Then what do you know about the Doyoung here that’s so larger than life?”

You don’t answer.

Understanding flickers across Meg’s face. She groans. “You didn’t even look him up?!”

You cross your arms. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“You’re so impossible,” she types furiously into her computer. “Do…young…”

You roll your eyes. “Like you’re gonna find him by googling his first name only.”

“It’s unique enough,” she protests, whirling her laptop screen around toward you. She wiggles her eyebrows. “Imagine if a guy this hot appeared in your dreams?”

Everything muscle in your body freezes. A strangled noise rips out of your throat.

Meg’s jaw drops, and she looks between you and the screen with open disbelief. “You’re fucking shitting me right now.”

Doyoung’s picture smiles at you clear as day from Meg’s laptop. Singer and Actor.

Wordlessly, you reach over and click the images tab. Pictures of Doyoung—your Doyoung—flood the entire page. He’s photographed in various styles, even modeling with big brands. You’d known that he was ridiculously good-looking, but you hadn’t expected something like this. You even recognize his friends Taeyong and Johnny that you’d seen in some visions; they’re clearly friends in this universe too, seeing as they’re posing in many group pictures together.

“That’s him…” you whisper.

“Holy shit.” Meg regains her senses and starts clicking through different website links rapidly. “Holy shit, dude! He’s famous!”

“I can see that!” You say as panic rises up your chest. Of all the perfectly normal Doyoungs you’d seen, your Doyoung had to be a celebrity?

“I was going to tell you to find him anyway, but this is insane!” More clicking. Meg shows you a digital tour poster that reads NCT 127 – THE MOMENTUM. “Dude. They’re touring. I’m buying tickets.”

Your head spins. You’d meet him by buying tickets amongst all of his fans. Your soulmate has a fanbase.

“Don’t,” you choke out.

“How else are you going to find him? Stalk him?”

She’s right. Regardless, you feel tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. Your voice comes out so quiet that it’s barely audible. “I’m scared.”

Meg’s expression softens. She sets her laptop aside as she envelops you into a hug. “I know. Let me just buy the tickets for you for now, and then we can think about it more. It’s in two months, so you have some time.”

You nod with a sniffle.

“Besides,” Meg smiles as she pulls back. “All of your visions have pretty much been sickly sweet, right? I doubt anything will change now.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Doyoung pulls you out of a restaurant through a gathering crowd. Flashes go off all around you.

Most of the group is made up of women shoving their cameras in your faces while completely hiding their own. There’s a slight murmur amongst them that’s still eerily quiet.

You pull the brim of your hat down lower, the fabric of your mask higher as you try to shield yourself from the attention.

Security opens the door to the black SUV first, ushering Doyoung inside first. It’s a brief pause that’s long enough for a fan to get you within her sights while security is distracted.

“Ugly whore!” She screams as she arches her arm back. You react too late as a plastic cup hits the back of your head. A cold liquid drenches you starting from your face and drips down your entire shirt.

You stand there in shock. Flashes and shutters sound off rapidly around you. The only thing that moves you, finally, is the security staff member physically lifting you into the backseat. The door slams after you, drowning you in silence.

The driver turns to hand you a towel, which you accept with trembling hands.

“Looks like our whereabouts got leaked, again,” you laugh, but the sound falls flat into the silence.

Doyoung’s eyes rake over your appearance. His expression contorts into hurt.

You want to massage the deep frown from his face, but you can already feel the tears threatening to surface. Instead, you dab at your clothing to dry what you can. The fan must have thrown a soft drink of some kind, since the drink leaves behind a sticky residue on your clothing and skin.

Doyoung looks like he’s on the brink of tears himself. “This is my fault,” he says simply.

You expect your voice to come out weepy, but it comes out hard instead. “It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not! This is the work of people who don’t understand boundaries! You should be able to enjoy your free time without being stalked!”

It’s clearly a point of contention that’s been hashed out before. He settles into silence for the entire drive. The car eventually stops in front of a high rise building that the two of you walk into together. It’s clearly your shared apartment, traces of him and you strewn throughout the space.

“You should go shower and clean yourself off,” he says absentmindedly as he types something into his phone. “I’m going to make a quick call.”

You still hear Doyoung’s voice through the door when you emerge from the shower.

“Right. I was just hoping….yeah, you’re right. I’ll talk to…No, that won’t be necessary. Thanks.”

 You pull on your clothes and exit your bathroom into your master bedroom in the most nonchalant way you can manage. You falter still when you see Doyoung sitting at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

You join him on the edge of the bed. “Doyoung?”

He looks up at you; his eyes are rimmed with red. “Hey.”

“You talked to your manager? How was it?”  

“As expected,” Doyoung says while avoiding your gaze.

“Is your company going to take any action?”

He frowns, then takes a deep breath. “They said they’ll do what they can.”

“Which means?”

“Just that. They’ll ‘do what they can,’” Doyoung's voice drips with sarcasm, “but it’s unlikely to actually deter anyone. These things might still happen to you as long as you’re with me.”

As long as you’re with me. Alarm bells ring in your head.

“Don’t.” The you of this reality must pick up something more because your concern swiftly rushes into anger. “I know this fuck-ass company is recommending you some fuck-ass solution. I thought we said that we would handle this together. We survived the leaked photos in the media—we can handle this.”

Doyoung doesn’t look at you. “It’s my idea.”

For the first time, the weight of this reality’s emotions flood over your own. You feel her shock down to your core, which is quickly replaced by raw heart ache. Your throat is so tight that you’re barely able to choke out the words. “Okay. Say it, then.”

“I can’t keep watching this happen to you because of who I am. There’s still three years before my contract ends. Who would want to go through any of this for that long?”

“I would,” you say quietly, “I will for you. What we have is too special to throw it all away.”

“I can’t let you do that.” Doyoung’s shaking his head. “It’s not fair to you.”

“Who decides what’s fair to me? Isn’t that my choice?” You snap, your temper flaring up again. “It’s pretty unfair that you’re disregarding my entire opinion in this.”

“We’re soulmates,” he murmurs. “Meaning you felt a biological pull when we met.”

Your heart drops. “What the hell are you saying?”

 “You didn’t have much of a choice but to be drawn to me. Despite my lifestyle.”

“You don’t believe that. You believe in soulmates more than anyone.”

He avoids your eyes by opting to stare at the ceiling instead. “Well, maybe I’m starting to think differently.”

“So this is it, then?" Your voice trembles. “After all it took to just find each other in the first place?”

“I’m leaving tonight." He still doesn't meet your eyes. "This apartment is yours, but I won’t be coming back.”

You’re still absorbing his words when he rises toward the door.

“Doyoung.” Your voice is laced with despair. Still, you force out the words. “Say you don’t want me.”

“What?” His brow furrows.

You stalk after him, only stopping when your noses are nearly touching. “Say you don’t want me. Say that all of this was a mistake, and you don’t need us anymore. If you’re going to end it like this then you need to take ownership of it.”

Doyoung's mouth flattens and his bottom lip quivers. He takes a deep breath before exhaling and meeting your gaze. “We might be soulmates, but I no longer think that we belong together in this life. I wish the best for you, and the best for both of us is separating.”

It’s the worst he could say. Agony swirls in your chest. You collapse to the ground in a mess of sobs before he’s even left, but he continues out the door without looking back.

This version of you haunts the rooms of your house in a broken haze. You take to combing through every drawer, cabinet, and shelf as you search for anything that belongs to Doyoung. Nothing is safe; everything from clothing to picture frames get thrown onto the ground between bouts of hysterical crying.

Internally, panic courses through you. You’ve never felt stuck in a vision like this. Or felt the emotions of a vision so strongly. Everything about this vision is too real; this version of you feels everything so poignantly that you struggle to differentiate between your emotions and the emotions of this reality. You can barely think for yourself. Every sob comes equally from your soul.

Finally, when it’s deep into the night and your eyes can’t swell up any further from crying, you’re released from this nightmare. The you of this reality is left alone in a dreamless sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That’s only the first of a month-long string of visions. You’re thrown into visions at least once every day. They change between elated moments of intimacy to tormenting heartbreak at the flip of a coin. Destined to be together one day, doomed to fail the next. It gives you karmic whiplash.

The hardest part is dealing with the other versions of you. It’s increasingly difficult to separate your thoughts and emotions from whichever reality you’ve entered. Sometimes you stay so long that you think that you’ll be trapped in another body forever. Even when you finally return, all of the emotions follow you out.

After the latest nightmare, you wake up gasping for air. Not real, you remind yourself. You dig a nail into your palm until it bleeds, just to confirm that you’re in control of this body. Not my Doyoung.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes, pausing as the back of your hand comes back wet. God, were you crying?

Shaking your head, you get up despite the heavy ache of your muscles. Your neck is so tight that you feel like it could snap off your shoulders.

Your phone lists a barrage of text and missed call notifications from Meg. A series from an hour ago that starts with a brunch request and ends with I’m coming over.

Sure enough, Meg sits at your dining table. There’s some take out containers on the table in front of her along with two cups of coffee.

“Sorry I missed your calls,” you sigh while taking your seat across from her. “Visions.”

Her eyes scan over everything from the deep bags under your eyes to the gaunt lines underneath your cheekbones. You ignore it and bite into a piece of toast.

“I’m worried about you,” Meg says.

You grunt and take a swig of coffee. “Why?”

“You look like you haven’t slept in ages.”

Your tone comes out too harsh. “Well, no one told me that soulmate visions during nighttime actually take away from any REM sleep. I’ve been having them almost every night for the past, you know, two months, so I don’t think I’ve really slept in a while.”

“I never really had many,” Meg mumbles from her spot. “So I didn’t know.”

“Sorry.” You know that you’re behaving like a colossal asshole, but you can’t help it. You’re haunted by what could come next. Visions of Doyoung plague you night and day. You still have yet to achieve full autonomy within a vision, which means that you’re trapped inside another’s body as you witness interactions that you will never have—different people, different universes, and different outcomes. It’s terrifying.

“There is a way to end it,” Meg starts again. “I have the tickets.”

You tighten your hand on your cup. “No.”

“Why not?”

You slam your hand down on the table. “Because sometimes it doesn’t work out, Meg!”

Her eyes widen.

“I’ve seen so many universes where it does work, but I’ve seen the pain and hurt that’s possible when it doesn’t,” you continue. “I love him in all of them, but better versions of me still fail to make it work. There’s no way that I stand a chance when Doyoung’s literally an idol with a million options at his fingertips.”

“You never know,” she reminds you softly. “He could be seeing you too, for all we know.”

“And with his infinite number of resources, he’s never tried to find me?”

That shuts her up.

“I’m starting to lose it, Meg,” your voice is barely louder than a hush. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s not half of the time because of these visions—it’s like my soul is fighting to be outside of this reality. Isn’t that a sign? All these other versions of me have so much more to offer. I’m the worst version of myself, and he’s the best.”

Meg reaches to grab your hand. “You’re not the worst. Not even by a landslide. Your soul is just trying to be helpful by showing your amazing connection.”

“For this life it’s only an amazing outcome for me,” you say, sourness oozing back into your voice. “I can’t do that to him.”

“You can’t do this to yourself, either. Have you considered that you’re already doing something to him?”

This time, she’s lost you. “What do you mean?”

Meg sighs, a sure sign of her patience finally running out with you. “There’s no way in hell that he’s not experiencing some sort of vision himself. Isn’t that worse for him, since he’s touring? You’re probably disturbing his practice and rest time.”                                                         

You’ve been so caught up in living these alternate lives that, admittedly, you hadn’t considered the insane work demands of an idol. For all you know, he could be experiencing all of these visions at the same time. You had no way of knowing if your Doyoung was also witnessing everything without a chance to speak for himself.

 “It’s definitely worse for him,” you mumble.

“Exactly! And what’s the way to relieve you both of this? Meeting! Taking the chance of this concert in our city to let you both free!”

You hang your head in your hands. “Why do I have to ambush him like that? Isn’t that a lot?”

“You…” Meg stabs a finger in your direction. “…are not a celebrity.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“Doyoung…” Meg pulls up the promotional images of him to show you on her phone. “…is an idol with crazy fans. He doesn’t know where to find you. I’m more than sure he has fans all up in his DMs claiming to be his soulmate on the daily. This is the only way you won’t get tackled by his security guards.”

You consider it. Even if he was guaranteed to not want you, even if he is universes above your league, you could at least free the both of you from these relentless interruptions.

I’ll miss it, a small part of you thinks. Being able to feel what we could be. What we are, just in different lives.

You push those thoughts to the back of your head. “Fine. Let’s end it.”

“Finally,” Meg exhales.

“You do realize that we’ll have to fight all of these fans to be as close as possible, right?”

“Don’t worry,” your friend says with an evil smile. “I have my ways.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Meg lives up to her word. After a series of begging and bribes to other fans, you’re at barricade on the far right. To your horror, she’s brought a sign with your name on it in bright neon green letters. You’d try to dissuade her, since there’s no guarantee that Doyoung’s even seen you in visions, let alone heard your name, but she refused to back down.

“Maybe it’s so strange that it’ll catch one of their eyes,” she argues.

It’s certainly catching the eyes of other concertgoers, who glare at you.

Past the surrounding people, you find it hard to remove your anxiety from the situation. You’d tried to influence the tone of your visions leading up to the concert by consuming NCT 127 variety content and their overall discography. In reality, it made the visions worse. Watching Doyoung’s public image in action grated at your psyche; instead of heartwarming, it reminded you painfully of the talent disparity between you two. Not only did it make your visions more taxing, but it also made them more likely to occur. With any hope, even if he didn’t see you, you wouldn’t go unconscious into a soulmate vision.  

Your heart hums with anticipation as the lights dim and the low bass reverberates through your body. The monitor displays a brief, pre-recorded video of the members wearing and removing gas masks. The scene switches to the faces of the six members in a row. You lock onto Doyoung’s image on the screen.

The fans around you scream at the top of their lungs. Your ears ring and numb your senses. Amidst all of the energy you suddenly feel a panicked flush of shame.

Had you really paid this much money for this experience based on what could be hallucinations? Wasn’t it a little…egotistical to assume a man at this unattainable level of fame could be your soulmate?

You swallow the lump in your throat as the big screen splits to reveal the members standing in glass boxes. The box closest to you is Jungwoo on the far-right side of the stage. Your eyes scan down the line, skipping over Mark, Yuta, Johnny, then—

Doyoung

Your first kiss, different every time, yet always leaving sweet fulfillment.

Torn apart by circumstances outside your control.

Finding each other despite all odds.

A soft breeze as you say I do.

Kids, seemingly in every timeline—

It’s as if the world stops. You nearly fall over in place as memories flood your head. They’re both yours and not; movies of past lives—together, good and bad—superimpose over the other. It’s much, much more than what you’ve experienced in your visions. No one has properly prepared you for the feeling. Your head spins and throbs as the memories tuck and cram themselves into any available space.

It’s as physical as it is emotional. Your body writhes as your head feels like it will explode at any second. You’re panicked, overrun by the happiness and sorrow and confusion clouding your judgment. You can’t even tell which of these emotions are yours or theirs. The bright, flashing lights make it so much worse. Bile climbs up your throat before you force it back down with a swallow.

“Hey!” Meg pulls at your forearm. “Are you alright?”

“…Yeah,” you stammer, gasping for air.

She pats the top of your hand, which is paling from the intense grip on the barricade metal. You release your hands and rub at your tender palms.

She processes your appearance for a brief moment before her eyes widen. “No way.”

You nod, too exhausted to reply.

“We were right? Holy shit!” She screams, which ignites the searing pain behind your eyes.

You sway a little. “Did he react at all?”

“I couldn’t tell because of the smoke,” she frowned. “It seemed like he came out a little late.”

Doyoung performs on the stage in front of you. He doesn’t seem disoriented in the slightest. You do notice his eyes flit over the crowd occasionally, but it seems in line with what the other members are doing.

She quickly drapes your arm over her shoulders to stabilize you. “So what, now is the time for the sign?”

You don’t answer; regardless, she unfurls the poster. Her attempt to massage out the wrinkles are largely unnecessary—it’s already past the point of no return—but you can appreciate the effort. You’re barely able to stand up without her help.

Nearly half of the concert passes without any progress. Doyoung has stayed mostly away from your side of the stage, and when he is on your side his line of vision seems to skip right over you.

“How does he not fucking see you?” Meg shouts.

You shrug. Strangely enough, this is the most relaxed you’ve felt in weeks. It’s as if all of your usual nerves have left straight on vacation.

All the snippets of memories are too much to sort through now, but there’s now two sentiments that are finally crystal clear to you throughout all lifetimes.

First: Doyoung must want you too. Either of you can choose to not pursue this connection.

Second: If it is meant to be, love will find a way.

Clearly, your Doyoung exists in an entirely different plane of existence from you. Sure, you might be soulmates, but that didn’t mean that he would choose you. That was his right, as was yours. At this point, you’re ready to accept any outcome.

Still, when the unit has transitioned to a series of ballads, you feel a flicker of annoyance. While your chances of being with him are slim to none, a small part of you craves that acknowledgement.

Can’t Help Myself, your favorite from the album, starts playing. You’ve thrown all expectation to the wind and start singing to the lyrics, even as Doyoung crosses back to your side of the stage.

Meg, on the other hand, raises the sign even higher while she screams Doyoung’s name in a way that is completely inappropriate to the tone of the song. It’s incredibly embarrassing but also endearing.

You’re half-laughing, half-cringing, until it works. Doyoung’s eyes rake over the sign, squint at Meg, then drift over from her to lock onto you.

Mine, your mind says.

Doyoung collapses onstage.

You’re even less prepared for this than you were before. The memories return and suppress all other thoughts. The terrified cries and shock of the crowd completely overtake your senses. It’s all too much.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your body folds over the barricade and hangs there like a ragdoll.

“HELP!” Meg’s voice screams over all the others. “PLEASE, MY FRIEND NEEDS SOME HELP!”

You feel someone grasp your shoulders and pluck your body out of the crowd. Then, you lose consciousness.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Doyoung sits on your living room carpet with your daughter in his lap. He flips through the thick pages of a children’s picture book, sounding out words for her and pointing at each picture.

You stare at his side profile. You’re not under any other will; you’re completely you, from the present day, down to the neon green outfit. The same version of you that’s presumably passed out at his concert. Most importantly, visions should stop once you’ve finally seen your soulmate in person. You shouldn’t be here at all.  

“What’s wrong, my love?” Doyoung mumbles.

You startle. Then, you blurt: “Are you real?”

He laughs softly. “Am I real?”

Cautiously, you settle down to sit on the floor next to him. He says nothing, stroking your daughter’s hair as he waits for you to speak first.

The fact that you can speak unsettles you. After months of visions, why is this the vision that lets you have full autonomy? Why in a moment like this, with Doyoung and your daughter relaxing in the living room?

“How did we meet?” You ask suspiciously.

He raises an eyebrow, but answers regardless. “Through work.”

“Which is?”

Thankfully, he’s much more patient. “Well, I was a trainee,” he starts, “and you were about midway through your rookie year.”

Your mind goes completely blank. “Me, an idol?”

Your daughter rests her head in Doyoung’s lap, eyelids fluttering with sleepiness. Doyoung puts a finger up to his lips.

“Am I your soulmate?” you ask in a lower tone, even though you already know the answer.

“Yes.”

“Was it always obvious that we would end up…like this? Together?”

He snorts. “We broke up after I didn’t debut.”

Your heart stops. “You didn’t become an idol?”

“We were broken up for six months before you reached out to me again.” His slightly sour expression softens. “You were going through a lot of things at the time. There’s no resentment there. You asked me for a month to get to know each other again as friends, then the rest is history.”

“Weren’t you mad that I ditched you once I debuted?”

“No.” He thinks for a moment. “Maybe at first. We all know that line of work is demanding, and you continued to show up after we worked everything out. You proved to me that you’d choose us over everything, and we haven’t looked back since.”

“Choose this, choose that…” You grumble as irritation pricks at you. Then, you hang your head back and wail like a child. “I’m so confused! I don’t know what all these visions are trying to tell me…”

Doyoung doesn’t respond.

“I’m not sure where I end and their memories and feelings begin,” you confess, as if this Doyoung will know what you’re talking about. “They’re not really mine, but they feel like a part of me. I’m scared that I’m getting swept away by the soulmate bond. How am I supposed to choose? What if the skeptics are right, and this whole thing has been a physiological or psychological reaction that can be explained by science?”

You expect him to be offended; by now, you know that his deep belief in destiny and timing are at the core of his being.

Instead, he says, “What if it is?”

You blink. “I don’t think a soulmate is supposed to say that.”

“Well, when we’ve talked about this before, it always comes down to the same last questions.” He thinks for a moment. “Say we get to the end of our lives and find out that the concept of ‘soulmate’ can just be explained as a physical reaction. Will you feel like you wasted your time? Your life?”

“God.” Your eyes flit to your sleeping daughter. “That’s heavy.”

Doyoung shrugs. “That’s kind of what it boils down to. What do you want to happen, regardless of fate?”

“I don’t know. I just want to be happy.”

“I see,” he says noncommittally. Doyoung’s expression is neutral. Your daughter has other ideas as she whimpers a soft cry in her sleep, which prompts him to pick up your child and cuddle her in his arms. “Do you think I can make you happy?”

The sight makes your heart clench. It triggers an ache for a life that isn’t yours; you feel guilty for intruding on this version of life. This Doyoung doesn’t belong to you.

You open your mouth to reply, but the dream lightens and fades around you. This Doyoung smiles at you one last time before you’re ripped out of this reality.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Doyoung’s first soulmate vision occurs on his eighteenth birthday. It’s something that he can’t forget even if he tries. A dream of the two of you, childhood best friends, experiencing the flutter of a first kiss. He remembers the shyness in your face along with the grounded sense of familiarity; even at eighteen, he feels that he’s known you for his entire life.

Doyoung holds your existence close to his chest. He’s already teased enough for being a romantic as it is, and he treasures your connection too much to let others weigh in. It’s only deep into his trainee period that he even divulges anything to Taeyong and Johnny in the late hours of the night.

Visions of you shimmer in and out of his life in ephemeral flashes. Sometimes you’re the only thing holding him together when his throat burns from vocal training and his muscles ache from dancing. He clings to the borrowed memories from these other lives like a promise. There’s no doubt in Doyoung's mind that your life will touch his eventually–it’s not if, it’s when.

Then his visions stop right before the tour. You’ve been such a constant in his life for the past decade that the absence of you leaves a gaping hole behind. He misses you. He’s always tried to find you, but with only your first name to go off it’s nearly impossible. Added onto the fact that, as an idol, maintaining his privacy is of the utmost importance. He doesn’t want to even think about the entities that would exploit the knowledge of Kim Doyoung’s soulmate. 

He retains his professionalism while panicking on the side. What did it mean for his visions to disappear? The disappearance on New Year’s Eve specifically feels like an omen–Doyoung swears to himself that he’ll find you once and for all when the tour ends. All his performances are dedicated in his heart to you and your safety.

So when he registers a poster with only your name on it, he can hardly believe his eyes. The girl attached to the poster is certainly not you, so he keeps looking. 

When Doyoung sees you for the first time–finally, sees you in this life for the first time–all he feels is relief and elation. You found him.

Then a wave of nausea overtakes him, and he collapses on stage. 

After the fact, staff tell him that he laid unconscious for ten minutes. To him, he spends lifetimes. 

He’s inundated with visions of this reality, for once. Doyoung sits through the nightmares with you and sees your health deteriorate with each one. It pains him to see you so overwhelmed. Sure, he had the occasional vision where the two of you didn’t work out, but ten years had given him more than enough time to parse through the philosophical questions of it all. He can’t imagine experiencing this sudden influx so late or needing to decide so quickly. There’s a rush of guilt in knowing that you’ve experienced far more negative visions of him than positive.

It’s his first time seeing you in this universe, too. You’re different from all the other versions, of course, but the core things that make up your identity are as clear to him as ever. Your ambition and drive to make things work despite all odds. Your tenacity. Your deep loyalty and care to your loved ones. 

Doyoung feels at peace. It’s still you.

He wakes up with the wide eyes of the staff all around him. They immediately have someone check him out, and even the medic is perplexed when his only symptom is a mild headache. 

“So strange,” he frowns. “Someone in the front row of the crowd fainted around the same time.”

Doyoung's heart races. “Are they alright?”

“I believe the patient is being held in one of the medical tents.” 

When he’s cleared to perform, Doyoung pops a painkiller, drinks some water, and adjusts his outfit to go out there and finish the show. Before he leaves, however, he pulls his manager aside to whisper some instructions in his ear. He raises an eyebrow but then nods.

Be there soon, Doyoung thinks as he runs to join the others.

Doyoung leaves it all out on the stage. It’s his best, most earnest performance to date.

It’s easier than usual to slip away from the main group, since today’s show had been particularly exhausting. Most of them assumed that Doyoung felt sick and told him to go rest. It’s only Johnny who eyes him sidelong, but he doesn’t say anything in the moment as he heads out to eat.

Doyoung’s heart beats wildly in his chest as he paces in front of your hotel room. He’d met Meg, thanked her for the sign, and questioned her relentlessly on your condition. Meg, from what he could tell, seemed amused as she answered each of his questions. No, you weren’t awake. Yes, the medic said all of your vitals were normal. Yes, it was likely just a fainting spell similar to his own. Yes, you would probably want to see him.

Meg emerges from the hotel room with a nod. Doyoung’s chest tightens as he takes a deep breath to open the door. 

You’re sitting upright in one of the hotel beds while focusing on alarm clock next to your nightstand. 

“Meg, this is much nicer than something you’d usually choose–” You stop mid-sentence as you turn your head to find Doyoung in Meg’s place instead. “Doyoung.” 

Sure, he’s heard you say his name before but hearing it in the flesh makes goosebumps prick up along the surface of his skin. “Hi,” he breathes your name out loud for the first time.

Your expression is wide and dazed in shock as you stare at him. “Is this a vision? Or am I dead?” 

He feels tension between his shoulder blades relax as he laughs. “We’re both very much alive. Together,” he adds at the last minute.

You look down at your hands. “...I see.” 

Your sudden shyness reminds him so much of his first soulmate vision that he wants to gather you into his arms and never let go. Instead, he asks. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you pause. “How were you after collapsing?”

“I was only out for a bit, then I woke up pretty much good as new.” He leaves out the part about seeing your entire soulmate realization journey. “Did you see any vision while out?” He sits in the hotel-provided office chair and rolls it forward so he’s hovering next to your side of the bed.

You grow shy again, this time at his proximity. “I did.” 

“Me too,” he admits. “It’s hard to believe that we won’t see any more.” 

You snort. “Not that we saw them for very long to begin with.” 

Doyoung’s breath catches. He knew the differences between your visions but explaining it out loud to you in person feels extremely different. “...I actually saw my first one just over ten years ago.” 

“Ten years ago?” You nearly shout.

“Frequency of them is on and off, but I started getting them when I was eighteen.” 

He watches your face twist in different expressions as you process the information. Shock and confusion appear first before it settles into something resembling guilt. He lets you get lost in thought. To Doyoung this is just a part of his story that he’s long since accepted, but he knows all of this is brand new for you.

When you finally speak, it’s something that he doesn’t expect. “I’m sorry!” You blurt out. “I hope you know that I don’t expect anything from you.” 

He tilts his head in confusion. “Expect anything from me?”

“I would’ve tried to find you even if you weren’t famous,” you’re talking so fast now that your mouth can barely keep up. “I’m not trying to take advantage of your fame.” 

“I didn’t think that.” Doyoung’s taken aback. Did you see him as the kind of person who would assume the worst? “I tried to find you a few times, but the visions weren’t exactly helpful in finding specific details about you. Meg’s sign was the first time I’d seen your full name.”

“Oh.” 

Your nervousness is palpable. He wishes he could transfer all your bad experiences to himself. Anything to take your pain away.

“Would you prefer it if I left?” He asks softly. “I can give you more time to— “ 

“No,” you cut him off firmly. You hesitate, just for a second, before reaching for his hand.

Now you’re both embarrassed, but you force your words out. “I don’t really understand what any of this means, still. I also don’t hold it against you if you’re disappointed. There are probably a million more interesting versions of me.”

If anything, he’s disappointed that you feel the need to self-deprecate. He sorts through his mind for a way to encompass how he’s felt about you for the past ten years, but it all seems too long winded.

Finally, he settles for a simple squeeze of your hand. “I’m happy it’s you.”

You squeeze his hand back. “I’m happy it’s you, too.”

Doyoung feels the blush blooming onto his face. The space between you is warm yet fragile. Through the haze of his giddiness, he tries to reign himself in before he scares you away. “I know this is still a lot for you, so I can meet you wherever you need me to be.”

The edges of your mouth twitch upwards in amusement. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

He blinks. “It is?”

“You’re the one who’s seen soulmate visions for ten years with no closure, but you’re more concerned about me,” you lean forward, eyes sparkling like you’re withholding a secret. “Even though I’m the reason why you collapsed at your own concert.”

“It’s not your fault!” He huffs, but you’re already laughing at his pouting. “It’s not!”

You wipe a tear from your eye. “It just made me feel relieved that it’s really you. I’m happy.” After recovering from your laughing fit, there’s a streak of makeup smudged along your upper cheekbone.

“You said that already.” Without thinking, Doyoung wipes the mark away with the pad of his thumb.

Your breath hitches. Doyoung freezes, which means that his hand effectively freezes on your cheek in turn. Then, finally, you turn your head toward his hand and press your lips on the skin. You smile.

The bashfulness in the air is replaced with something thicker and more intense than before. Doyoung’s eyes drift down to your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” The words come out low and raspy. It’s surprising to even him. It’s probably too soon. He should have more self-control, damn it, but he can’t help himself. Every cell in his body craves to be closer, closer, closer.

Instead of a reply, you close the distance between you.

He’s lost track of how many first kisses he’s witnessed through other versions of himself, but this one tastes sweeter than all the rest. It’s more than just a kiss; it’s acceptance. As you lose yourselves in the other’s touch, it feels like a vow.  

“Doyoung,” you mutter between kisses.

“Mhmm?”

“Doyoung!” You pull back briefly, chest heaving for breath. “I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

His heart drops. He knows this risk-averse and self-sabotaging behavior of yours. If not addressed, you’ll convince yourself to choose the safest route to protect yourself. It’s now or never.

He clears his throat. “As I said, I will meet you wherever you need me to be. It’s okay if we start off slow or just as friends. Regardless, I would love to finally get to know you. This you.” He clears his throat. “So I hope you’ll consider it.”

“Of course I want to get to know you,”you say without hesitating. You bite your lip. “Without a doubt, I know that I can care for you and fall in love with you. The last few months have convinced me of that, but I’ve also seen that love can only carry us so far. You want to try pursuing something, even knowing that other versions of us have failed?”

“We won’t fail,” he says with a calm confidence.

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m choosing you—this reality with you. I will do everything in my power to take care of you.” His voice drops to a low tone. “So please trust me. Choose me too.”

With those words, you’re a goner. Truth be told, you aren’t sure if you stood a chance in the first place. He’s too easy to trust and fall into. Doyoung is everything you’ve dreamt of and more.

“Okay,” you say with a smile. “I’ll choose us too. As long as you’re really sure you want to be stuck with me.”

To know you is to love you. Doyoung’s decision was made from the moment he first saw you in his dreams.

“Of course I want to,” Doyoung says as he pulls you into another kiss. “I’ve loved you in every lifetime.”

[cbeargyu]

only the petals remain

summary: you wake up in a hospital after a tragic accident, your body broken and your soul lonelier than ever. then you meet jaehyun—the boy with a fragile heart and the only one who can see the flower blooming on your wrist, the sacred mark said to reveal your soulmate. with each tender moment you share, a new petal appears, drawing you both closer to a love written in fate. but as the flower nears its final bloom, so does time. now, only one petal remains—and he’s no longer here to see it.

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, romance, soulmate au, hospital au, slow burn, tragedy, emotional healing, psychological drama.

warnings: character death, grief, depression, medical trauma, chronic illness, disability recovery, emotional dependency, survivor’s guilt, strong language, heavy emotional themes, vivid hospital scenes, mentions of suicide ideation (implied), terminal illness, unresolved trauma, soulmate mark (body symbolism), tragic ending.

⚠ this is not proofread so pls ignore any typos or mistakes ily <3

wc: 18,4k

notes: hi babiesss!!🩷 i was feeling like writing something about jaehyun but my brain was literally fried from doing too much lately lmaoo 😭😭 then i remembered i had this old draft on my wattpad acc, i had only written up to the part where they first meet and never finished it so it just sat there abandoned in my drafts 😭 but i was like... okay it’s time. y’all know how i get carried away with ideas and end up writing wayyyy too much 😭 and still i feel like i didn’t write enough?? like i wanted to add even more scenes 😭😭 but i really hope u enjoy it and maybe cry a little like i did while writing 🥹🫶

darkness.

it's all you know when it begins. not the kind that feels peaceful or quiet, but the kind that presses against your skin, dense and suffocating, as if the world itself has collapsed in on you. there’s no pain. not yet. only the weightless sense of floating somewhere between existence and oblivion.

then a light. faint at first—like a single star flickering at the edge of a black sky. it pulses. and with it comes a voice, not male nor female, not loud but impossibly clear, resonating inside your head like it’s always been there.

"you can’t die yet."

you want to ask why. you want to scream that you're tired, that your bones feel like they've been shattered into dust, that you don't even remember who you are anymore. but your voice doesn’t work here.

"you left something unfinished. someone waits for you. your soulmate. the one your soul is tied to... you must go back."

a soft breeze, warm like a memory, brushes your skin, and as it does, something burns—your left wrist. you look down and see it: a tiny ink mark blooming into a single flower in the center of your skin. delicate, soft red like blood. no petals. just the center. incomplete.

"this will guide you," the voice whispers. "only you can see it. every time you are near them, the flower will begin to bloom. a petal for every step closer."

and then, silence.

you wake up to screaming.

your body jolts, restrained by thick straps of pain and heavy sedation. your lungs forget how to breathe. you're surrounded by flashing lights, the cold sting of needles in your veins, the rush of white coats and beeping monitors. and amidst it all, two familiar voices—your parents—crying your name.

they’re holding your hand, sobbing uncontrollably, but the moment is ripped away as the doctors push them back, their voices drowned in a sea of urgency.

“bp rising—get more oxygen in. prepare for transfusion—”

“she’s conscious. vitals climbing—get neurology—”

you don’t understand any of it. your body aches like it's been set on fire. broken. barely whole. you try to move, but your limbs betray you.

and then everything fades to black again.

a week later

you've barely moved from your hospital bed. every inch of you is wrapped, stitched, bruised beyond recognition. machines breathe for you at night. your bones are held together by metal rods and quiet prayers. you’ve heard nothing about the crash, nothing about the others. your parents avoid your eyes. the nurses change the subject. and you're not allowed to leave the room, not even to ask.

but you know. deep down. you know.

they’re gone.

jongin. seulgi. minkyung. taemin.

gone.

their laughter still echoes in the hollow parts of your memory—the roar of the engine, the way the wind slapped against your face as you screamed into the night, drunk on champagne and invincibility. jongin’s dare. your cruel smirk. the wall. the impact.

the regret swells in your chest every time you close your eyes.

three weeks later

your body is still too weak to walk. a kind nurse, seoyun, wheels you out into the hospital garden to get fresh air. she talks as if you're old friends, spilling stories about her latest dating failures while she trims dead leaves from the bushes.

you nod politely, say nothing. you don’t care. not really. the world feels dulled, colors muted, sounds distant. you drift in and out of her words until something catches your eye—your wrist.

the flower.

still there. unchanged. no one else sees it. seoyun doesn’t even glance at it as she brushes your hand. it’s small, a red spider lily, delicate and eerie, like it's been drawn with threads of fate itself. only the core is visible. no petals. lifeless.

you stare at it for a long time.

and then—laughter.

bright, clean, almost melodic.

your head snaps toward the sound before you realize why. across the garden, near one of the marble benches, a boy sits in the sun. blonde hair, grown out and soft, glowing under the light. he’s laughing at something another patient says, hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with the effort. an older nurse leans beside him, amused.

he doesn't notice you.

your chest tightens. not in recognition, not in love—just... intrigue. something unspoken. your fingers twitch over your lap as your eyes linger on the stranger.

you can't look away.

you tell yourself it’s nothing.

just a stranger with a pretty smile. the kind of face that lingers in the memory a little longer than it should. but you don’t think about him that night, or the next day. not really. your world still revolves around recovery, the dull ache of broken bones, the tightness in your chest every time you breathe. the nights are worse—quiet, haunted. the silence presses on your ears, makes you wish for someone to talk to, someone to scream at, someone to ask why you’re still alive when they’re not.

but then, he appears again.

not by design. not because you’re looking for him.

they’re wheeling you into radiology for your scheduled scans, your body limp in the chair, head lolling slightly to the side as you try not to vomit from the motion, and there he is—jaehyun—standing at the nurses’ station like he belongs there, laughing with one of the interns. he’s wearing hospital clothes, like you, though his are looser, cleaner, almost lived-in. he gestures animatedly with his hands, a plastic cup of apple juice in one, and his laugh rises above the quiet buzz of the hallway like a song you don’t know but somehow remember.

he doesn’t look at you.

not then.

and yet something stirs in your chest again. not a feeling, not exactly. just... that itch. like the edge of a memory. something that wants to pull you forward.

you don’t ask seoyun about him that day. you think about it. the words hover at the edge of your tongue as she helps adjust your blankets once you’re back in bed. she hums as she works, cheerful as ever, a melody of someone too used to grief to let it show. but your throat tightens before the question can form. you stay silent.

and the next day, he’s there again.

this time, in the cafeteria. you’re being pushed past the open double doors on your way to physical therapy, a session you’ve been dreading since the moment they mentioned it. your legs still feel foreign. your arms tremble even holding a spoon. but the moment you pass that room, you hear him.

his voice. lower than expected. smooth, gentle. he's reading something out loud—an article? a joke?—to one of the older patients, and there’s laughter again, warm and full and effortless. the kind of laughter that wraps around your spine and squeezes.

you can’t explain it.

it’s not a crush. not an attraction. not even curiosity, not yet.

just... something about him refuses to let you go.

it happens enough times that even seoyun notices the way your eyes drift. after one long session of breathing exercises and tendon stretching that leaves your body in sweat and tremors, she wheels you back into your room and raises an eyebrow when you glance over your shoulder for just a second too long.

“you’ve seen jaehyun again, huh?” she says it so casually, like you’re talking about the weather. her tone doesn’t tease, but there’s something behind it—fondness, maybe.

the name sits strangely on your tongue. “jaehyun?”

she hums, pushing the brake on the chair before checking the IV bag hanging at your side. “jung jaehyun. he’s been here a while. longer than most. he’s... hard to miss.”

you say nothing. you don’t have to. your silence is enough of a question.

seoyun softens, her expression shifting to something quieter. she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and lowers her voice, as if afraid the walls will hear her. “he has a condition. congenital. his heart’s smaller than it should be. underdeveloped. it’s rare. not many make it past childhood.” she sighs, her gaze distant. “but jaehyun… he keeps surprising everyone.”

you look down at your lap, at the slight tremor in your hands. your flower remains the same. one red center. no petals. dormant.

“so he lives here?” you ask, surprised by the way your voice cracks.

“pretty much. his body isn’t strong enough to leave for long. he stays between treatments, surgeries, check-ups. sometimes he goes home for a few days, but he always ends up back here.” she shrugs, as if that’s just how life is. “he makes it bearable though. the nurses love him. the other patients do too. he’s… special.”

you don’t ask what that means. you’re not sure you want to know.

but from that day on, you start seeing him more.

in the hallways, on the elevators, sitting by the window in the waiting room where the morning light touches his hair like gold. sometimes he’s reading. sometimes talking to someone. once, he’s sketching something in a notebook, pencil smudging the edge of his palm. you don’t speak. neither does he. but your eyes meet once—just briefly—and he smiles.

not like he knows you. not like he wants to.

just... politely.

your heart does something strange then. not racing. not skipping.

just... noticing.

the flower on your wrist doesn’t bloom. not yet. but that center glows warmer under the sun, like it’s waking up.

and you begin to wonder.

not just about him.

but about what it means to have a second chance. about why you’re still breathing, even when everything hurts. about whether the universe really gave you another shot to find something—someone—that could make you feel alive again.

because if that’s true… maybe you already know where to start looking.

the sun is warm that morning. too warm for autumn, really. it spills over the garden like melted honey, soaking into your skin as seoyun wheels you along the gravel path, humming under her breath like always. she talks about the morning shift—short-staffed, as usual—and how one of the doctors mixed up two prescriptions yesterday but caught it just in time.

you’re only half listening.

your eyes scan the garden lazily, not looking for him exactly, but half-hoping, half-dreading you might see him again. and you do—jaehyun—sitting beneath the sycamore tree in the far corner, a sketchbook balanced on his lap, pencil in hand, head bent in concentration. his blond hair glows pale in the sunlight, loose strands catching on the breeze, and he looks so calm, so untouchable, you almost tell seoyun to turn you around.

but then she stops suddenly.

“shit,” she mutters, glancing at her phone. “i need to run to the reception—paperwork emergency. can you wait here for a few minutes?”

before you can answer, she turns toward jaehyun, waving. “hey, jaehyun! could you sit with her for a bit? i won’t be long.”

you freeze.

he looks up. his eyes meet yours. warm, honey brown. his face is unreadable at first, then softens into something polite.

“sure,” he says, closing his sketchbook gently. “no problem.”

your stomach knots. you want to protest. say no, say i’m fine, say i don’t need a babysitter. but by the time you open your mouth, he’s already beside you, dropping gracefully into the chair next to yours like he’s done this a hundred times.

“hi,” he says simply, voice low, smooth, like velvet over steel. “i’ve heard about you.”

you arch a brow. “not sure if that’s comforting.”

his lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. “the girl from the accident, right? seoyun and the nurses talk about you sometimes. they were really worried.”

you look away, the mention of it scraping something raw inside your chest. “figures.”

he doesn’t press. doesn’t pry. just sits there, watching the light filter through the branches above. the silence stretches between you, not heavy, just unfamiliar.

you glance sideways at him.

his features are sharp but softened by the gentle curve of his mouth, the kindness in his eyes. there’s something steady about him, grounded. like he’s used to sitting beside people who’ve lost things.

“you live here or something?” you ask, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice.

he chuckles, not offended. “pretty much. i’ve got a suite on the fifth floor. ocean view and everything.”

you snort before you can stop yourself. “must be nice.”

he shrugs. “could do without the needles, though.”

you glance down at your wrist, instinctive now. the flower stares back at you—still small, still centered—and for a moment, you wonder what he would say if he could see it too. if he could feel the way your skin just prickled beneath the scarred edge of your cast. the burn is sudden, like a flicker of heat just beneath the surface, and then—

a petal blooms.

right there, delicate and perfect, curling outward from the center. red as blood.

your breath catches.

“are you okay?” jaehyun’s voice is gentle, curious.

you curl your hand into a fist, hide the wrist against your thigh, heart thudding loud enough to drown out the birds in the trees. “fine,” you lie.

he watches you for a moment longer, like he knows you're hiding something. but again—he doesn’t push.

instead, he leans back in the chair, tilting his face toward the sun. “you don’t talk much,” he says after a while.

“neither do you.”

he laughs quietly. “fair enough.”

more silence. it should be uncomfortable, but it isn’t. not really. the tension in your shoulders slowly uncoils, like you’ve been holding your breath for weeks and only just now remembered how to exhale.

“so what’s your deal?” you ask finally. “you’re always... around. talking to people. laughing like you’re not in a hospital.”

his lips press together, amused. “i figure if i’m stuck here, might as well make it bearable. besides,” he glances at you, eyes glinting with quiet mischief, “i like people.”

“must be nice.”

he studies you for a second. “you don’t?”

you shrug, gaze flicking out over the flowers blooming beside the bench. “i used to. or maybe i just used people. kind of hard to tell the difference when you grow up getting everything handed to you.”

his voice softens. “money?”

“money. attention. friends with too many secrets and not enough shame.” you clench your jaw. “it didn’t matter how many parties i threw or how expensive my clothes were. i was just... bored. all the time. like something was missing and i couldn’t figure out what.”

he doesn’t judge. doesn’t even blink.

just nods, thoughtful.

“maybe something was.”

you look at him. “you believe in that stuff?”

his head tilts slightly. “you don’t?”

“i’m not sure i believe in anything.”

he smiles again, but this one’s different—smaller, quieter. sad.

“sometimes,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “the universe gives you signs. tiny ones. you just have to be paying attention.”

you think about the flower.

about the warmth still pulsing in your wrist like a heartbeat.

about how his presence doesn’t feel like a coincidence.

“what if you miss the sign?” you ask.

jaehyun’s gaze doesn’t leave yours.

“then i think,” he says slowly, “it finds another way to reach you.”

seoyun returns a minute later, flustered and apologetic, thanking jaehyun as he stands. he brushes off the gratitude with a gentle smile and a quick nod to you.

“see you around,” he says.

and for the first time in weeks, you hear yourself say it back.

“yeah. see you.”

he finds you again a few days later, sketchbook in hand, the sun already slipping into its golden descent over the garden. you’re sitting near the fountain this time, legs covered in a thin hospital blanket, watching koi fish ripple through the still water. you don’t notice him until his shadow spills over yours, soft and hesitant.

“hey,” he says, voice calm as always. “mind if i join you?”

you nod, almost before you realize it.

he sits close but not too close, resting the sketchbook on his knees, fingers absently playing with the elastic band around it. for a while, neither of you says anything. the breeze rustles the leaves, the fountain babbles on. then he speaks, eyes still on the pond.

“you said you don’t believe in anything,” he murmurs, like picking up a thread you forgot you left behind. “but you looked at that flower on your wrist like it meant something.”

your breath catches, but you don’t answer.

instead, you glance down at the mark. the red petal still curves around the center like a whisper of fate. it hasn't changed since that day, but it feels alive. pulsing. waiting.

he shifts beside you, the sketchbook now open on his lap. you watch as he flips through pages carefully, one after another, until he lands on one near the middle.

he turns it toward you.

“i wanted to show you these.”

your breath stutters.

each page is a world—soft pencil strokes bringing landscapes to life, delicate portraits of nurses, elderly patients, even seoyun caught mid-laughter beneath the pergola. the emotion he captures is almost impossible. you see not just faces and places, but moments—tiny slivers of something real that feel more tangible than your own memories.

“you drew all of these?”

“yeah,” he says, sheepish. “it keeps me sane.”

you don’t speak for a long time, your eyes traveling over every line, every smudge of graphite. you don’t want to look away. your fingers hover near the page, almost afraid to touch.

“they’re beautiful,” you whisper. “you’re... talented doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

he smiles softly. “thanks.”

when you finally meet his eyes, you see it there again—that quiet transparency in him, the unflinching way he sees the world and somehow still manages to draw light from it.

you want to ask how he does it. how he keeps from drowning.

but you’re not ready yet.

that night, back in your hospital room, everything shatters.

your parents are sitting at your bedside. your mother’s fingers are laced together so tightly her knuckles have turned white. your father stares at the floor, jaw clenched.

you feel it before they say anything.

“sweetheart,” your mother starts, her voice cracking at the edges, “we didn’t want to overwhelm you before, but... it’s time.”

your body tenses.

you know what’s coming.

“jongin... seulgi... minkyung... taemin...” she swallows. “none of them made it. jongin and seulgi died at the crash. minkyung passed in the ambulance. taemin... he held on a bit longer, but...”

the rest is a blur.

a rush of static through your ears, like the world folded in on itself.

you don’t remember crying. just the way your chest collapsed. like a building gutted from the inside.

your father wraps his arms around you when your sobs finally come. your mother presses kisses to your hair like she used to when you were a child, whispering things that don’t reach you. none of it helps.

nothing will.

the next morning, a psychiatrist is assigned to you. dr. nam. soft-spoken, patient. she says the trauma is complex, that grief moves in waves, that healing won’t be linear. she’s not wrong, but you don’t believe her yet.

you stop asking seoyun to wheel you out into the garden. when she offers, you shake your head. “not today,” you say, every time.

the sunlight feels too bright.

the air, too sharp.

even breathing hurts.

but then—

one quiet afternoon, there’s a knock at your door. not seoyun. not your parents.

jaehyun steps inside, sketchbook in hand.

he doesn’t say anything at first. just walks over and sits in the chair beside your bed. you notice his hands are trembling a little, like this matters to him more than he wants you to know.

he opens the sketchbook slowly and turns it around.

you freeze.

it’s you.

you, sitting in your wheelchair beneath the sycamore tree, head tilted toward the sky, blanket draped over your legs, the sunlight caught in your hair. the expression on your face is calm, distant, unknowable. and somehow—he captured the heaviness in your shoulders, the guarded way you hold your hands, the flicker of sadness in your eyes.

you reach for it without thinking, fingertips ghosting over the paper like it might dissolve.

“you drew this?” you ask, barely breathing.

he nods once.

“why?”

he shrugs, gaze fixed on you now, open and bare.

“you looked like someone who needed to see herself from the outside.”

your throat tightens. your eyes sting.

you look back down at the drawing, tracing the lines of your own face like they belong to someone else. something in your chest shifts, aches. no one has ever seen you like this. not even you.

when you look back at him, tears blur your vision.

“it’s beautiful,” you whisper. “i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything.”

but you want to.

you want to say thank you. you want to say how did you know? you want to say please don’t leave yet.

and maybe—deep down—you want to say stay with me.

he smiles then, warm and quiet, and something in your soul stirs again.

the flower on your wrist doesn’t burn this time.

but it pulses, faint and certain, as if it's reminding you—

you’re not alone anymore.

the silence between you stretches, and then breaks—quietly, painfully—into the sound of your own sobbing.

you clutch the drawing to your chest, fingers trembling over the soft paper edges, as if it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. your body curls slightly over the sketch, like you could shield it—or maybe, like it could shield you.

you don’t fight the tears. they come too fast, too hard. hot streaks down your cheeks, choking sobs that rattle your healing ribs. the weight of everything—your loss, your guilt, the ache in your bones, the terrifying pull of fate burning into your skin—crashes into you all at once.

your left wrist burns. you don’t need to look. you know.

the flower has grown.

but you pretend it hasn’t. pretend it’s just the drawing that’s breaking you like this.

jaehyun doesn’t say anything. he watches you with wide, soft eyes that seem to see everything and judge nothing. then, slowly, he stands from the chair and crosses the small space between you. he moves gently, like approaching a frightened animal, like one wrong step might send you spiraling further.

he sits on the edge of the bed beside you, leaving enough space that you can still breathe. his hand reaches out—hesitating for a second—and then rests on your head. his fingers move through your hair with an impossible tenderness, like he’s afraid of hurting you more than you already are.

“it’s okay,” he whispers. “you’re okay.”

his voice is warm honey, settling deep in your chest.

his hand slides down, brushing your temple, and then cups your cheek. his thumb catches a tear and wipes it away.

you shiver at the touch.

not because it’s cold.

because it feels like home.

no one’s touched you like this since the crash.

no one’s held you like this without needing something in return.

you blink up at him, still crying, and his expression doesn’t waver. calm. steady. like he’s telling you through that look that you don’t have to hide anymore. not from him.

you don’t say a word.

but in that moment, you let yourself fall just a little into him.

not all the way. not yet.

but enough.

the days stretch.

therapy begins, slowly, painfully. your body is stiff, unfamiliar. walking is like learning from scratch—muscles weak, balance fragile. you hate the mirror now. you hate the bruises, the scars, the way your reflection no longer feels like your own.

but seoyun is there. jaehyun is there. dr. nam too, reminding you gently that you don’t have to climb the mountain in a day.

sometimes, when they wheel you into the physical therapy room, you catch glimpses of jaehyun in the hallway, talking to the nurses, carrying that same sketchbook under his arm. he always smiles when he sees you. not pitying. not forced.

real.

when you return to your room, you sometimes find little sketches tucked under your water bottle, or between the pages of a book seoyun brought for you. tiny gifts—your hands resting on your lap, the view from your window, the curve of your smile when you weren’t paying attention.

he draws you in moments you didn’t even notice you were alive.

and that changes something.

one morning, after a particularly exhausting session, you sit on the edge of your hospital bed, sweat clinging to your back, heart heavy. seoyun opens the door and steps aside.

“you have a visitor,” she says.

it’s him.

jaehyun.

sketchbook in one hand. a thermos in the other.

he walks in like he’s always belonged there.

“thought you could use something warm,” he says, lifting the thermos. “it’s barley tea. not coffee, but... it helps.”

you take it, brushing his fingers by accident. he lingers a moment before pulling back.

you sip, and the warmth sinks into you deeper than expected.

“thank you,” you murmur.

he nods.

and doesn’t leave.

you don’t know how long he stays, but it feels like the rest of the world stops moving outside your room. jaehyun doesn’t talk much—he simply sits with you. the warmth of his hand lingers long after he takes it back. his eyes don’t stray. he watches you like he’s trying to memorize your sadness, like it matters. like you matter.

the burn is softer now. dull. like an ember instead of a flame. when you finally look, another petal has bloomed—just one more—but it curls with delicate precision from the center, so subtle and beautiful it hurts. you touch it gently, as if it might vanish.

jaehyun notices.

your heart stutters.

“that’s new,” he says quietly, and your blood runs cold. “the flower. it wasn’t like that before, was it?”

you look up at him sharply. he saw it. the mark on your skin that’s supposed to be invisible to everyone but you.

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. questions. fear. truth. all of it tangled on your tongue. you want to ask how. why. what does it mean that he can see it?

but instead, you look down again, and you lie.

“…it’s a tattoo.”

he tilts his head, curious, but doesn’t push. he smiles faintly. “it’s beautiful.”

you nod. slowly. trying to hide how your fingers are shaking.

he saw it.

he saw it.

your fate is no longer a shadow. it has a face. a voice. a heart that’s still beating despite everything.

and it’s too soon to say it out loud.

so you don’t.

you just breathe him in.

a few days pass.

you get stronger. your hands don’t shake as much when you hold the railing during therapy. your legs stop trembling after a few steps. your voice stops cracking when you speak. and jaehyun… he’s always there.

it’s a cloudy afternoon when he appears at your door, bright-eyed, holding a folded blanket in one hand and a mischievous grin on his face.

“you’re coming with me today,” he says.

you arch a brow. “to where?”

“cafeteria,” he declares. “you’ve been eating that sad porridge for too long. and i found out today’s curry rice. i’m not letting you miss that.”

you smirk, feigning indifference, but your heart tugs toward him before you even realize it.

he wheels you out, careful but confident, his hands warm on the grips of the chair. there’s something reassuring in the way he moves—not just physically, but emotionally, too. he leads without pressure. offers comfort without demanding it. and when you pass the nurses’ station, they all wave and tease him like he’s part of the staff.

you reach the cafeteria just before the rush. he finds a table near the window and parks your chair beside it. he leaves briefly to grab two trays—curry rice, fruit, soup, even a tiny strawberry milk carton.

“you have to try this,” he says, sliding the milk toward you. “they say it’s for kids, but it tastes like nostalgia.”

you laugh, the sound foreign in your own mouth. it feels good.

the food is warm. heavy. the kind of meal that sticks to your soul. you eat slowly, watching him as he dips his spoon into the curry, his gaze distant for a moment.

“you know,” he starts, “i’ve never eaten in a real school cafeteria before.”

you blink. “never?”

he shrugs. “i didn’t go to school like normal kids. i was homeschooled. mostly because of my heart.”

you pause, setting your spoon down. “…what do you mean?”

his eyes flick to you. there’s no bitterness, only quiet honesty. “i was born with a condition. my heart’s smaller than it should be. weaker. not enough oxygen, not enough blood flow. doctors said i might not make it past ten.” he chuckles softly, like he’s told the story too many times. “surprise.”

your chest tightens. “jaehyun…”

he waves it off gently. “it’s okay. it’s my normal. but… yeah. my dad couldn’t handle it. moved to the u.s. when i was nine. said it was for work. he hasn’t called in years.” he shrugs again. “my mom’s the one who stayed. took care of everything. she’s… amazing.”

you don’t speak at first. there’s nothing you can say to fix that kind of hurt.

he smiles at you. “i always wanted to go to college. make friends. stay up late and complain about exams. stupid things, you know?” his laugh is soft. “but my body doesn’t really… cooperate.”

you stare at him, this boy made of ink and softness, and for the first time in weeks, you see someone who understands broken dreams.

“…i was in college,” you murmur. “before the crash.”

he looks up, interested.

you continue, your voice distant. “my parents own the han group. real estate empire. they gave me everything. cars, credit cards, connections. i never had to work for anything. just… floated through life. partied. skipped class. bought my way out of trouble.”

you glance down. “i thought i was untouchable.”

the silence thickens between you.

“were you happy?” jaehyun asks.

you don’t answer right away. “i don’t think i even knew what that meant.”

he nods, slowly, and your eyes meet.

his are steady. unjudging.

“but you survived,” he says softly. “and maybe… that means something.”

you nod, your throat tight. the wordless acknowledgment of a second chance neither of you asked for, but both seem to be finding in each other.

he smiles.

and for the first time since the night everything fell apart, you smile back—not out of habit, not to hide.

but because he’s there.

and somehow, that’s enough.

you notice it the first time by accident. the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath the shade of the old tree in the garden, head tilted slightly back against the bark, sketchbook resting gently against his thigh, pencil still in hand. his eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, and the late afternoon light spills through the leaves above him like a broken halo. you stop in your tracks, stunned by how peaceful he looks, almost untouchable. fragile, in a way that makes your chest ache. not because he’s sick, but because he looks like a moment that could disappear if you blink too long.

you sit there for a while in silence, pretending to read a book seoyun lent you, but your eyes keep drifting back to him. something stirs in you—a pull, a question, a longing to reach out and brush your fingers over the soft brown strands of his hair just to prove he’s real. you don't. but the ache lingers in your fingertips.

the next time you’re in the garden, it's warmer, sunnier. a group of nurses walks by, chatting loudly. one of them—a new girl with pretty eyes and laughter that rings too sweet—leans down to jaehyun as he sketches something quietly beside you. she touches his shoulder, too familiar, and compliments his drawing. he laughs, easy and kind, and you feel something sharp twist in your stomach.

you don't speak, but your silence is louder than anything.

he notices. seoyun too.

when she walks away, seoyun turns to you, amused. “jealous?”

you scoff. “please.”

she grins, not pushing it, but the blush on your face betrays you anyway.

a few days pass before the next real moment. the sky is overcast, and there’s a bite to the wind even through the hospital windows. he wheels you back from your physical therapy session, a towel around your neck, your limbs heavy and sore but looser than before. progress. he says it like a celebration.

you end up in your room, seated by the window. he sits at the foot of your bed again, flipping through his sketchbook for no reason, and you watch him quietly until the words start to rise in your throat—uncomfortable, unwanted, but necessary.

“my friends died.”

he stops turning the pages, eyes slowly meeting yours.

“jongin. seulgi. minkyung. taemin. we were all in the car. they… they didn’t make it.”

his expression doesn’t change much, but something shifts behind his gaze. stillness. gravity.

“i kind of always knew,” you continue, voice raw, “but hearing it out loud from my parents just—i don’t know. it destroyed me.”

he doesn’t say anything yet, just lets you speak, which somehow makes it easier to go on.

“they weren’t… good people. not really. and neither was i. we were selfish. careless. rich kids playing with fire. we drank too much, laughed too loud, did everything we weren’t supposed to. it wasn’t just one bad night. we were always like that.”

your eyes sting, and you press your knuckles into them, biting back the sob that crawls up your throat.

“but they were my friends. and now they’re gone. and i lived.”

you whisper that last part like a confession, like it’s a crime.

jaehyun finally speaks. his voice is quiet, steady.

“sometimes… the universe chooses who gets to keep going. and it doesn’t always make sense. but maybe there’s a reason you survived.”

you glance at him, blinking through the tears. “a reason?”

he nods, folding his hands over his lap. “my mom used to tell me that souls don’t end. that when we die, we go somewhere else. not up or down, just… somewhere. and sometimes, if the bond is strong enough, we find each other again.”

your breath hitches.

he continues. “maybe your friends are somewhere better. maybe they’re waiting for you to live a different life. a better one.”

you look at him, and he looks back at you like he sees something in you—not just the guilt, but the hope, too.

“it’s hard to imagine a better life when everything hurts,” you admit.

he nods. “i know.”

“but you still smile,” you say softly. “you still draw. laugh. joke with the nurses. how do you do it?”

he exhales. “i wake up. i breathe. i try to find beauty in the small things. and some days…” he glances at you, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. “some days are easier now.”

your heart thuds once in your chest, heavy and warm. his words settle over your skin like a soft blanket.

you reach for the sketchbook he abandoned, flipping through the pages until you find one of a riverbank at sunset, the water curling like molten gold, two silhouettes standing at the edge.

you touch it, then glance at him. “do you think… do you think they’re watching?”

he shrugs, but his eyes are gentle. “i think if they are, they’d want you to keep going.”

your voice trembles. “i don’t know how.”

he leans in a little, not close enough to touch, but near enough to feel. “maybe i can help.”

the silence that follows is full—not empty. his presence feels like gravity, and for the first time in your life, you want to stay grounded.

you nod. “okay.”

and just like that, something shifts again—not loudly, not suddenly. but deeply.

as if another petal has begun to bloom, unseen.

the idea is his, of course. it always is.

you're in the garden again, the sun already dipping below the edge of the building, casting the sky in strokes of rose and lavender. you were just finishing another therapy session when jaehyun appeared with something hidden under a blanket draped across his lap and a suspicious twinkle in his eyes.

“i hope you’re not allergic to strawberries,” he says, wheeling you toward the base of the old tree you’ve unofficially claimed as yours. “because i may or may not have bribed a nurse for some tonight.”

he spreads the blanket with a flourish, revealing two neatly packed hospital meal trays, a plastic container of strawberries, and a small thermos.

“tea,” he adds with a sheepish grin. “technically, it’s not allowed this late, but…”

you laugh softly, warmth curling in your stomach. “you’re going to get us both kicked out.”

“worth it,” he says, shrugging. “you deserve something normal.”

so you sit under the tree together, knees almost touching, your trays in your laps as you eat. the food is nothing special—bland rice, lukewarm soup—but everything tastes better when you're with him. he picks out the best strawberries for you, pointing out the heart-shaped ones and acting offended when you call him cheesy. you tell him he’s hopeless. he calls you dramatic. the laughter between you is quiet, but real. it settles into your chest like something you never knew you needed.

afterward, you both lean back against the tree, his sketchbook balanced on his knees. he’s drawn the garden at night before, he tells you—once when he couldn’t sleep and the moon was full. he flips to the page and shows you: soft shadows, the leaves whispering in the breeze, the hospital windows lit up behind the trees like stars that never go out.

you trace the lines with your eyes, fingers twitching against your lap.

“you’re not just good,” you murmur. “you’re… incredible.”

he looks at you, just for a moment, and something in his gaze softens.

“so are you.”

your breath catches. you don’t say anything.

later, when it’s time to return inside, he walks you slowly back, the silence between you no longer awkward—just peaceful. when you reach your room, he lingers at the door.

“i need to tell you something,” he says.

you tilt your head. “what is it?”

“my checkup came back really good this time. better than anyone expected. the doctors want me to rest at home for a while.”

you blink. the words don’t register at first.

“you’re… leaving?”

he nods. “just for a bit. i’ll still come to the hospital for follow-ups. i’ll visit you. i promise.”

your stomach sinks. suddenly, the thought of not seeing him every day feels unbearable. he’s become a constant, the steady rhythm in the chaos of your new reality.

he must see it in your face because he smiles gently and reaches out, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“you’ll be okay,” he says.

you nod, but you’re not sure you believe it.

the next morning, his mother comes to collect him. you meet her in the hallway outside your room. she’s elegant, composed, with soft features and tired eyes that hide their sorrow beneath expertly applied makeup. when she sees you, her smile is warm but distant.

“you must be the girl jaehyun won’t stop talking about,” she says kindly.

your cheeks flush. “i didn’t know he talked about me.”

“he doesn’t talk much about himself,” she replies, glancing at her son as he signs discharge papers. “but with you… he’s different.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

before he leaves, jaehyun gives you a folded piece of paper—another drawing. this one is of the two of you beneath the tree, laughing, your hair whipping in the breeze.

you don’t open it until you’re alone.

when you do, your heart nearly cracks.

and then, as if on cue, your wrist begins to burn—low and sharp, like a blooming spark beneath your skin. you look down slowly.

another petal.

the fifth.

you touch it with trembling fingers, watching the outline settle beside the others, the once-empty flower slowly filling. it's more than halfway now. what would happen when it completes? would everything become clear, or would it only hurt more?

you don’t know.

but you know one thing for sure: he saw it.

he always saw it.

and somehow, you think… he knows.

the first few days after jaehyun leaves are the hardest. not because anything dramatic happens, not because something has changed visibly in your world, but because of the absence—quiet, cold, and ever-present, settling over your hospital room like a forgotten blanket. there's no knock at the door just past lunch, no soft voice teasing you about the terrible food or the sharp scent of pencil shavings clinging to the sketchbook he always carried. you find yourself staring at the clock without meaning to, tracing over the familiar grooves of his name in your memory, listening for a laugh that doesn’t come.

you hold the drawing he left you too tightly. the paper has started to curl at the edges, a sign of how many times your fingers have clutched it in search of something tangible, something real. you haven’t put it away. you can’t. it's tucked between the folds of your blanket or perched on the tray beside your bed, always within reach, like a talisman against the growing ache of missing him. when you look at it, you remember the exact moment it was drawn—the way his eyes flicked between you and the page, the way the corners of his mouth turned upward with each new stroke. you wonder what he sees when he draws you. if it's anything close to how you feel when you look at him.

the flower on your wrist remains unchanged for days. five petals. just five. they sit there in delicate permanence, a reminder of how far you've come... and how far there is still to go. you find yourself watching the mark when you're alone, as if willing it to bloom might somehow bring him back. but it doesn't. and you don't know if it ever will.

the therapists try to keep your days structured. physical rehab in the morning, psychiatric sessions in the afternoon. the latter are the hardest. you speak little at first. you hate crying in front of strangers, but it keeps happening. when the psychiatrist asks about your friends, your chest tightens until the words can’t leave your throat. when she gently encourages you to talk about the accident, all you can do is close your eyes and press your nails into your palms, hoping the sting is enough to keep the memories at bay. it doesn’t work.

you think about seulgi’s laugh. about how minkyung used to braid your hair while you slept on long drives. about taemin’s ridiculous playlist choices, and how jongin always knew the best shortcuts through the city. they are shadows now. fragments. ghosts in your chest that never leave.

jaehyun calls once, a few days after his discharge. seoyun hands you the phone with a grin too wide for her face and whispers, “someone’s asking for you.” your heart stumbles over itself.

“hey,” his voice says through the receiver, soft and warm, like honey seeping into tea.

“hi,” you breathe, the word small and sharp.

there’s a pause. not awkward, just... full.

“i miss the garden,” he says finally. “miss our tree.”

“it misses you too,” you reply, and you think it might be true.

he tells you his mother made kimchi stew, that he helped her with the radishes and cut his finger in the process. he makes it sound dramatic, but you know him well enough now to hear the grin behind the complaint. you ask about his health, and he assures you he’s fine—more than fine, even. his voice dips a little, like he wants to say something more, but he stops himself. you do too.

the next time he visits, it’s unannounced. you’re in the middle of flipping through an old magazine, too distracted to care about the outdated fashion trends, when the door clicks open and he’s just... there. standing in the doorway, sunlight spilling around him like some sort of divine joke. you blink, sure you’re imagining him, but he smiles and steps in.

“thought you might be bored without me.”

you don’t realize you’re crying until he’s beside you, his thumb brushing away the tears like he’s done it a thousand times before.

he stays for hours. he sketches while you read aloud from the book you’d been pretending to care about, and the sound of your voice mixes with the soft scratch of pencil on paper. he doesn't show you the drawing this time. just folds it into his bag when you're done, like it’s something secret, something sacred.

another petal appears that night. the sixth. you trace it in the darkness, heart hammering.

one afternoon, the weather warms and seoyun wheels you to the cafeteria for lunch, but something feels different—lighter. the sun is out. the garden is green again. and when you look across the courtyard, jaehyun is there, holding a tray in one hand and pointing to an empty table with the other. “thought i’d steal you for lunch,” he calls.

he insists on pushing your chair, ignoring your protests, navigating the path with ease like he’s memorized every bump and crack. when you settle into the table, trays between you, he offers you a smile that makes your chest flutter.

he had just said something about the dreams he still holds close. not about school this time—he'd already spoken about that. this time, it’s about music.

"i always wanted to learn to play piano," he says, a hint of longing in his smile, eyes cast toward the distance like he’s tracing the path of some long-lost melody only he can hear. "not for anyone else. just for me. i used to watch performances online, lying in bed during those longer stays here... sometimes i imagined myself on stage, not performing, but simply... feeling the keys beneath my fingers."

you listen closely, soaking in his words. this boy who speaks with a quiet bravery, who makes soft confessions like secrets pressed between the pages of a diary. you find yourself watching his face more than the view behind him. there’s something in the way his eyes carry a sadness too heavy for his age, but he still finds beauty in small dreams. you don’t interrupt. you can’t.

he looks back at you, and for a heartbeat, the world stills.

"thank you," he says. you blink.

"for what?"

"for making me feel a little more normal. for not treating me like i’m going to disappear. even if you think you are a bit too spoiled sometimes." a teasing smirk breaks through his gentleness.

you let out a huff, nudging his leg with your foot. "i’m not spoiled. i’m just... accustomed to comfort."

"exactly," he laughs. and it’s unfair, how that sound makes your chest feel lighter and heavier all at once. you could sit here forever. but reality has a way of reminding you that forever is not something promised.

there’s a moment, right after, when he checks the time on the corner wall clock. his face changes subtly—only slightly. you notice.

"i have to go," he says gently, the words a weight pressed between you both. "my mom’s waiting. she says i shouldn’t overdo it, especially now that i’m doing better."

you don’t respond right away. you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

he stands, folding the sketchbook in his arms. then his eyes linger on you. for a second, it feels like he wants to say something more. you do too. but nothing comes out.

"you’ll come back?" your voice is quiet, fragile in a way you hate.

he smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that tries to be strong for both of you. "i promised, didn’t i? besides, someone has to keep you in check."

he leaves with that. and as the door closes, you realize how cold the room suddenly feels.

two weeks stretch like slow waves crashing gently on the shore. in his absence, your world softens into routine. your legs begin to respond better, the nerves slowly remembering movement, as if waking from a long and painful sleep. you begin therapy sessions with more intensity, though you still dread them. muscles cry in resistance, and every step with the crutches feels like dragging your past behind you.

some days, you use the crutches, stubborn and determined. other days, you sit in your wheelchair and sigh dramatically when seoyun comes to wheel you around, making her laugh.

"you’re just lazy," she says, half-chuckling, adjusting the scarf around your neck.

"i’m injured," you counter, pouting, batting your lashes as if that could explain away your unwillingness to walk.

"you’re a brat. a cute one, but still a brat."

you roll your eyes, but inside, the warmth of her teasing eases the bitterness of healing. she treats you like a person, not a patient. still, there are days when you break in private. when you cry after failed attempts to stand too long. when you curse your past self for the recklessness that led you here. on those days, the sketch jaehyun gave you remains on your bedside table, the penciled image of you beneath the large garden tree, peaceful and whole. you reach for it more than you’d admit, tracing the lines like a prayer.

you notice the flower on your wrist again. it has five petals now.

not even half.

what happens when it’s full?

what happens if it never finishes blooming?

what if he never comes back?

but even in your doubts, a quiet ember burns. because you know the truth now, even if you haven’t spoken it aloud.

he is the one you were meant to find.

days blurred together in muted hues of beige and soft grays, the hospital walls becoming your second skin, the scent of antiseptic laced with blooming jasmine from the garden etched into your senses. mornings were quieter now, the chatter of nurses distant as you sat by the window, legs wrapped in a thin blanket, hands resting atop the worn cover of a poetry book you hadn’t opened in days. your recovery was painfully slow, each day a war between your will and your fragile body. the physiotherapy sessions had begun, awkward and frustrating, with trembling knees and unsteady steps supported by the sterile clink of cold metal crutches. sometimes, they felt heavier than your own bones. sometimes, they felt like failure.

seoyun was endlessly patient. she joked about your dramatic sighs, your stubborn pouts, calling you “little madam” as she guided you through corridors or wheeled you into the garden when you simply refused to walk. you pretended to be annoyed, but the truth was, her kindness made the weight a little easier to bear. still, there were moments you broke. the frustration built like a storm, and when your knees buckled again and again during one of your morning trials, the tears came unbidden. you sat on the tiled floor, fists clenched and voice trembling as you muttered, “maybe i’ll never walk again. maybe i’m broken forever.”

you didn’t notice seoyun step back to make a quick call, didn’t hear her whispering softly by the doorway. your breath was uneven, chest tight, when soft footsteps approached.

“y/n,” a familiar voice said, low and careful.

you didn’t lift your head at first, not until his shadow knelt beside you.

“jaehyun,” you murmured, breath catching.

his eyes searched your face, his brows drawing together with quiet worry. “seoyun told me you had a rough morning.”

you swallowed hard, blinking fast as your voice came out brittle. “i’m tired. of trying and failing. of hoping.”

he sat beside you, not minding the sterile hospital floor, knees drawn up as he leaned forward slightly. “hope isn’t weakness,” he said after a moment. “it’s the bravest thing you can do, especially when everything hurts.”

you glanced at him, the vulnerability in your chest rising like a tide. he looked at you the way no one ever had before—like your pain wasn’t something shameful. like it mattered.

“you always say things like that,” you said quietly. “things that make me feel like… i’m not lost.”

he smiled, soft and sad. “maybe it’s because i’ve felt that way too. and it’s easier to believe for someone else.”

there was a beat of silence.

“you came back,” you said, not a question, just a truth you were still holding on to.

he nodded. “i told you i would.”

“but… why?” your voice cracked slightly. “why do you keep coming back?”

jaehyun exhaled, gaze dropping to his fingers curled together. when he looked up again, there was something raw and unguarded in his expression.

“because i can’t stay away,” he said, voice low. “because every time i leave, i end up thinking about you. wondering if you’ve smiled that day, if you’re okay. i come back because… you matter to me, more than i ever thought someone could.”

your breath hitched. your heart trembled inside your chest, and that burning sensation—familiar and searing—climbed up your left arm. you didn’t need to look. you knew. another petal. six now.

your eyes glistened, lips parting as if to speak, but words tangled in your throat.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, nervousness flickering in his voice. “i just… i needed you to know. even if it’s messy. even if it’s too soon.”

you reached out slowly, your fingers brushing his, and your hand stayed there, resting against his knuckles. “i don’t know what this is yet,” you whispered. “but when you’re not here, it’s like something’s missing. i think about you, too. more than i should.”

his smile was quiet, full of unsaid things.

you leaned your head against his shoulder, both of you sitting on that cold hospital floor as if it were the safest place in the world. no one disturbed you. the moment stretched, breathing on its own, warm and fragile.

after some time, he gently helped you up, wrapping an arm around your waist as you steadied yourself on your crutches. he didn’t rush you. he didn’t speak. he just walked beside you, step by slow step, like he was learning your pace and choosing to match it.

and somehow, that made everything feel a little less impossible.

the days that followed brought a mixture of progress and discomfort. your legs had started to regain more strength, slowly but surely. you were now learning how to move with crutches, though they still felt like a betrayal of your independence. some mornings you pushed through with determined stubbornness, managing to walk short distances, while others you gave up halfway, throwing yourself into the wheelchair with an annoyed huff, your pride dented but intact. seoyun would only chuckle at your dramatic outbursts, calling you her “spoiled little princess,” gently scolding you as she handed you snacks or pushed you down the hallway like a child refusing to walk. the truth was, your frustration ran deeper than just physical weakness — it was a constant war between the life you used to have and the one you were learning to accept.

one afternoon, your parents mentioned that a few of your university classmates were coming to visit. you didn’t want to see them — you weren’t ready. but they were already on their way, and it felt wrong to refuse. so you sat there, stiff and uncomfortable in your hospital bed, as familiar faces entered your room. they smiled politely, voices gentle, eyes filled with pity they tried to disguise. their words were kind, their concern clearly rehearsed. you nodded along, offering vague answers, not wanting to seem cold. but inside, you felt nothing. not joy, not connection — only a strange emptiness. when they left, you exhaled so deeply it felt like the air had been stuck in your lungs for hours.

not long after, jaehyun showed up.

he had a routine checkup that day and stopped by your room as soon as he finished. the moment you saw him, something inside you softened — like finally breathing after holding your breath for too long.

“heard you had visitors,” he said, pulling a chair close to your bed.

you nodded, eyes on your lap. “some classmates. it was... weird.”

“weird how?”

you shrugged. “forced. fake. i don’t know. they were smiling too much.”

he didn’t laugh. didn’t judge. instead, he tilted his head, watching you with that calm gaze of his — the one that always made your walls tremble. “maybe they just didn’t know how to act. maybe they were really glad you’re alive, even if they didn’t know how to show it.”

you looked at him then, eyes narrowed. “you always give people the benefit of the doubt.”

“you never do,” he countered gently, a small smile tugging at his lips.

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “i don’t like feeling pitied.”

“and i don’t think that’s what they meant to do.” his voice was soft, his words like warm water slowly soaking into dry soil. “not everyone knows how to deal with trauma — even when it’s not their own.”

you didn’t answer, but he could see you thinking about it. you wanted to believe him. maybe not for their sake, but for yours. maybe believing in something softer would hurt less than all that bitterness pressing against your ribs.

he leaned back in the chair, arms stretching behind his head. “you looked like a grumpy kitten just now.”

“i did not.”

“you so did.”

you glared at him, cheeks puffed with indignation. “you’re so annoying.”

“but you like me anyway,” he teased, reaching out to lightly pinch your cheek. “come on, admit it.”

“no.”

he chuckled and leaned closer. you hadn’t noticed how near he’d gotten until you turned your head — and suddenly, your faces were only inches apart. the laughter in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by something deeper, something that made your heart stumble in your chest. his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, then down again, slower this time. the space between you shrank like the air itself was pulling you toward him.

you didn’t move. neither did he. the world felt still, like time itself was watching.

his lips barely parted. “can i...?”

but before he could finish, a knock on the door sliced through the tension.

you both jerked away from each other, heat flooding your cheeks. the door creaked open and seoyun peeked in, one brow raised. “jaehyun, sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for y/n’s therapy session.”

jaehyun cleared his throat, standing up too quickly. “right. of course.”

you avoided his eyes, grabbing your crutches like they might anchor you in place. your entire body felt like it was buzzing with something unfinished.

as seoyun guided you through the hall, she couldn’t hold back her grin.

“what was that?” she asked playfully.

“nothing,” you muttered, a little too fast, face still burning.

she raised an eyebrow. “mmhmm. nothing. sure.”

“seoyun.”

“fine, fine,” she laughed. “i’ll be back later... lovebirds.”

you glared at her retreating figure, but you couldn’t stop the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. not even the dread of your session could erase it completely. something had shifted. something unspoken. and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, it pulsed beneath your skin like the quiet burn of your soulmate mark — now with six petals blooming around its center.

and though no words had been said, something had been felt.

something real.

the therapy room was quiet when you entered, the kind of hush that wraps itself around your bones and makes everything inside you feel more exposed. it smelled faintly of lavender and paper, and the lights were soft, as if trying not to disturb the fragility of your thoughts.

you sat on the couch, your crutches resting beside you like tired limbs. the psychiatrist — a woman with kind, steady eyes — offered you a warm smile, her pen poised loosely between her fingers.

“how are you feeling today?”

you hesitated. your throat felt tight. “i’m not sure,” you admitted. “it’s been… confusing.”

she nodded, as if she already understood. “want to talk about it?”

you looked down at your hands, fingers twisting nervously in your lap. “there’s this boy. jaehyun. he’s—” your voice cracked softly, and you sighed. “he’s not just anyone. i didn’t even know him before the accident. we met after. but somehow, he’s become... everything.”

“everything?” she asked gently.

you nodded, your chest tightening with the weight of your own confession. “i feel like i’m losing control. every time he’s near, i get this—this burn on my wrist, like fire licking at my skin, and i know it’s tied to the soulmate symbol. it started as one petal. now it’s six.”

the therapist’s eyes flicked to your wrist, where the mark now bloomed like a half-open flower, soft and glowing faintly beneath your hospital bracelet.

“and how does that make you feel?”

“scared,” you whispered. “because it’s not just the symbol. it’s him. the way he makes me laugh when i don’t want to. how he looks at me like i’m more than my injuries, like i’m still whole. i never believed in soulmates. i thought it was just… poetic bullshit. but now…”

“now you want it to be real?”

you looked up, your voice a soft plead. “i need it to be real. because i think i—i think i’m falling for him. and i need to know if this thing between us is fate... or just my heart clinging to the first person who didn’t look at me with pity.”

the therapist leaned forward slightly. “have you talked to him about it?”

you shook your head, lips trembling. “i don’t even know how. i feel like every time we get close to saying something real, the world interrupts us. and if i ask too soon… what if it’s only me? what if i’m wrong?”

the session continued for a while longer, but your mind remained tangled in that single question — was this love written in the stars, or simply desperation dressed in hope?

afterward, as you returned to your room, the thoughts clung to you like fog. you sat on the edge of your bed, glancing at the door, half-expecting jaehyun to walk in like he always did. but today, he didn’t. and maybe that absence made the ache sharper.

you let your head fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling, and let yourself feel it — all of it.

you remembered the first time you saw him. not when you met him, not when you first heard his name — but the first time. that rainy afternoon in the hallway, when you were still adjusting to the weight of your healing body and he was just a stranger. he was leaning against the wall, earbuds in, hood up, eyes distant. you’d only glanced at him, but something pulled at you. something quiet. you didn’t even know his name then, but he had this presence — like gravity, soft but undeniable.

and then you did get to know him.

his voice — low, warm, always careful with its edges. his hands — long-fingered and expressive, always finding ways to help you without making it feel like charity. the way his laughter wasn’t loud, but it stayed in the room like sunlight. the way he listened. really listened.

and his face — god, his face. dark eyes with a hint of melancholy, as if he’d seen too much but still chose softness. lips that moved with intention, like every word mattered. that little mole beneath his eye, the curve of his jaw when he smiled, the way his hair would fall into his eyes and he’d shake it away without thinking. and when he looked at you? it felt like being seen for the first time.

he made you feel safe. not the kind of safety that came from locked doors or quiet rooms, but the kind that wrapped around your soul — safety from yourself, from the guilt, from the fear of never being whole again.

you touched your wrist absently, fingers brushing over the six soft petals of the flower. you didn’t know what would happen when it bloomed completely. would it mean certainty? would it mean forever?

“do you believe in soulmates?” you had asked him once, weeks ago, in a fleeting moment when neither of you were quite ready to be honest.

he had shrugged back then. “i think... i believe in people finding each other when they’re supposed to.”

you hadn’t said anything at the time. you’d just nodded. but now, those words felt like a quiet promise. a foreshadowing.

you curled up on your side, wrapping your arms around your pillow, heart aching with unspoken truths. because you did believe now. or maybe you just wanted to believe. and that difference — that thin, trembling line — was what kept you up at night.

if he came back tomorrow, if he looked at you again like he did before the almost-kiss…

would you have the courage to ask him again?

and would he finally tell you what you were too afraid to say?

it was the middle of the afternoon when jaehyun returned. you hadn’t expected him — the last time you spoke, he mentioned his mother had scheduled more tests in another hospital, and he’d be gone a while. but there he was, standing in the doorway of your room, holding a plastic bag with canned coffee and a half-smile that faltered the moment your eyes met.

you were seated by the window, your legs propped up, crutches leaning against the wall, the pale sunlight catching on the blooming symbol at your wrist. seven petals now. soft, radiant, like delicate fire.

“you came back,” you whispered, too stunned to stand.

jaehyun nodded, stepping inside slowly, almost as if afraid he might disappear if he moved too quickly. “i missed this place,” he said, setting the coffee on the small table beside you, but his eyes were only on you. “i missed you.”

you swallowed, trying to calm the whirlwind inside you. the past few days had been suffocating. the therapy, the visits, the frustration of trying to move on legs that still betrayed you — but more than anything, the ache of not seeing him.

you reached out, wrapping your fingers around your wrist, heart pounding. “there’s something i need to tell you.”

his expression shifted immediately. concern flashed behind his eyes, and he crouched in front of you, resting one hand lightly on your knee. “what’s wrong?”

you looked down, voice trembling. “it’s about this.” you turned your wrist toward him, exposing the flower that had now grown fuller, more defined. the glow of it shimmered faintly in the sunlight. “do you know what this means?”

he stared at it, brow furrowed. “i… i know it’s the soulmate mark. but i’ve never seen one like that.”

you nodded, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “it appears petal by petal. for most people, their soulmate can’t see it. they just feel it. the warmth, the burn. but jaehyun…” you inhaled shakily. “you’ve seen it. you’ve always seen it.”

he didn’t speak. his lips parted slightly, but no sound came.

“i thought maybe i was imagining it. but you see it. and it only blooms when you’re near. not when seoyun’s around. not my parents. not even when the therapist asked about it. only you.”

he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours.

you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “i had this dream, back when i was still in and out of consciousness after the crash. i saw this red thread tied around my wrist. it stretched endlessly, through cities, skies, time... and at the end of it was you.”

his breath caught.

“i know it sounds crazy, but… that red thread they talk about, the one that connects soulmates, it’s real. and i’ve felt it pulling me toward you since the moment i saw you laughing in the hallway. i didn’t even know your name, but my heart knew. my soul knew.”

“y/n…” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“you asked me once if i believed in people finding each other when they’re supposed to.” your voice softened into something raw and tender. “i think we were always meant to meet. even in this hospital, even through all this pain. maybe fate isn’t perfect, but it’s persistent. and it brought me you.”

jaehyun’s cheeks flushed with color, his eyes wet and glassy. “i don’t… i don’t know what to say.”

“then don’t say anything.” you cupped his cheek with your free hand, brushing your thumb across his skin. “just feel it.”

he leaned into your touch, slowly, as if absorbing every drop of your warmth. “when you weren’t here, i felt like i couldn’t breathe. i didn’t realize how much you’d become a part of me until you weren’t within reach. i thought maybe… maybe i was being selfish. coming here all the time, waiting to see you smile, hoping you’d lean on me.”

“you weren’t being selfish,” you said, voice thick with emotion. “you were just following the thread.”

he laughed softly, the sound shaky and full of wonder. “then i guess i’ll follow it for as long as it leads me to you.”

your heart ached in the best possible way, swollen with something deeper than joy. his forehead leaned gently against yours, and you felt the warmth of his breath on your lips. neither of you kissed — not yet — but something passed between you, weightless and electric.

outside the window, the trees swayed in slow rhythm. inside, time stood still.

and on your wrist, the eighth petal began to bloom.

the hospital was quiet that night. the kind of quiet that didn’t feel hollow, but sacred—like the world had paused for just the two of you. seoyun had long since gone home after giving you one last teasing smile about how suspiciously often jaehyun had been around lately, and the nurses gave their soft goodnights as they dimmed the hallway lights.

jaehyun sat beside your bed, legs curled under him, his head resting on his hand as he watched you fiddle with the blanket wrapped around your waist. you'd begged him to sneak out with you to the garden, but your legs had been trembling all day, and he refused to let you strain yourself. still, he stayed. he always stayed.

you reached for the window, tugging it open with effort. the night breeze brushed against your skin like a whispered promise. jaehyun turned toward the air and closed his eyes, letting the wind rustle his hair. he looked so peaceful, like something out of a dream.

“you ever wonder,” you murmured, “if the stars are watching us back?”

he opened his eyes, slow and soft. “maybe. or maybe they’re jealous.”

you glanced at him, amused. “jealous of what?”

“of us,” he said simply. “of the fact that we found each other.”

your heart stuttered.

“jaehyun…”

he stood then, gently tugging you upright. your legs wobbled, but he was there in an instant, holding your arms steady, lowering you into the wheelchair you now only used when exhaustion crept in too quickly. his hands on you were always so careful. like you were made of something precious and fragile.

together, you rolled out into the hallway, past the night nurse who gave a silent nod of approval, and down to the garden. the moon was full tonight, bathing everything in silver. the tree where you’d first sat together was swaying gently, leaves whispering secrets.

jaehyun helped you onto the bench, then sat beside you, closer this time. there was something in the air. a pull.

and then you saw it.

glowing faintly in the moonlight.

a thread.

thin. red. pulsing like a heartbeat.

stretching from his wrist… to yours.

your breath caught. you lifted your arm slowly, and jaehyun mirrored you. eyes wide, lips parted, as he stared at the connection between you. it wasn’t metaphorical anymore. it was real. living.

“you see it,” you whispered.

his voice trembled. “i see it.”

tears welled up in your eyes, your hand trembling as you reached for him. his fingers met yours halfway, lacing with instinctive ease. you turned to him, face flushed, the gravity between you now undeniable.

“jaehyun,” you breathed. “do you remember what you said? about wanting to know what it’s like to be loved like in stories?”

his throat bobbed as he nodded.

you leaned in, your voice no more than a quiver. “this is that story.”

he cupped your cheek, so tenderly, so reverently it made your heart splinter and swell all at once. he looked at you like you were everything he ever wanted to hold.

“can i?” he asked, voice trembling, his forehead resting against yours.

you nodded, barely.

and then, slowly, softly, jaehyun kissed you.

it was shy at first—his lips tentative against yours, unsure, gentle, as if he was afraid to get it wrong. but when your hand slid to the back of his neck and your fingers curled into his hair, he sighed against you, a breathless, stunned sound, and kissed you again. deeper. fuller.

your first kiss with him tasted like everything you'd longed for but never knew you needed. and his first kiss with you… felt like the beginning of something holy.

when you finally pulled away, your foreheads still touching, you noticed something glowing brighter than the thread—

the ninth petal.

you smiled through your tears. “i love you.”

jaehyun was still breathless, lips swollen, cheeks red.

and then he whispered, almost as if he was afraid to say it too loudly and shatter the moment:

“i think… i always have.”

everything after the kiss felt like walking on clouds. no—floating. jaehyun’s fingers laced with yours whenever seoyun wasn’t watching. he’d whisper things in your ear just to see you blush, and your smiles bloomed like flowers every time he called you his one and only.

“you’re mine,” he’d whisper while pushing your wheelchair down the garden path. “the universe made you for me. i'm not letting you go.”

his words weren’t just sweet—they were convincing, like vows whispered into existence, like every syllable was a thread woven into the invisible red string that bound your souls. seoyun would narrow her eyes, lips twitching, clearly suspicious, but you only giggled, clutching his hand tighter, savoring the delicious secrecy of it all. jaehyun was yours. your soulmate. your only one. your forever.

but nothing ever stays perfect. not when fate is involved.

it happened in the middle of one of your usual walks. the air was warm, the breeze soft, and jaehyun was humming something under his breath as he gently guided your chair. he’d just leaned down to murmur something teasing in your ear—something about your hair looking extra shiny today—when his voice broke.

you turned around just in time to see his knees buckle.

“jaehyun?”

his eyes rolled back. his body crumpled to the ground.

“jaehyun!”

panic exploded in your chest as nurses came running. one of them had already seen him fall and radioed for assistance. he was lifted onto a stretcher with swift, trained hands. you watched in frozen horror as they rushed him back into the building, his pale face slack, his name tumbling from your lips like a broken prayer.

you couldn't move. your legs trembled even as you tried to stand, gripping the sides of your chair. seoyun came running, helped you back down, whispering reassurances you couldn’t hear past the roaring in your ears.

“he's okay,” she said. “he’s okay, y/n. he just fainted, okay? we’ll find out what happened.”

but it wasn’t just a faint. not when they wheeled him straight into cardiac observation.

you found out later that night, sitting in the hallway outside the ICU. his mother arrived in a rush—elegant, though her eyes were swollen, the same warmth as jaehyun’s but dulled with worry. she told the doctors she'd already noticed signs of arrhythmia through his at-home monitor. jaehyun, stubborn as ever, had begged her not to bring him back. he said he felt fine.

you wanted to scream.

instead, you stared at the door to his room, knuckles white on your crutches. you'd stopped using the wheelchair, trying your best to follow your physiotherapist’s advice. your legs wobbled, but they worked. he even suggested a cane for short distances. you scoffed, saying you'd rather die than look like an old woman. jaehyun would have laughed at that.

but he wasn’t laughing now.

the next morning, you visited him. the roles had reversed—you were the one pushing open the hospital room door now. he was lying there, propped up against pillows, an IV snaking into his arm, ECG leads taped across his chest. his eyes lit up the moment they saw you, but the shine didn’t reach the dark circles beneath them.

“you look good,” he said, voice scratchy. “better on your feet.”

“you look like hell,” you replied, hobbling toward his bed.

“missed you too.”

he tried to smile. you tried not to cry.

later, when the nurse stepped out and you were both alone, you sat beside his bed and reached for his hand. his fingers were cold. his grip was weaker than usual.

jaehyun looked up at the ceiling, the sterile white lights reflecting in his glassy eyes.

“i’m tired, y/n.”

his voice wasn’t small—it was hollow.

“i’m tired of this... this place. this body. i never asked for this. i didn’t want to grow up memorizing the colors of hospital ceilings. i didn’t want to learn the names of heart medications before i knew what real love felt like.”

you didn’t speak. the lump in your throat was too thick.

“i watch people walk around outside and i wonder how it must feel to wake up and not worry if today’s the day your heart just... stops.”

he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept falling—silent, steady, as if they’d been waiting years to fall.

“i wanted to go to school like everyone else. have friends. travel. fall in love without worrying if i’ll still be here next month. now i have you and all i can think is, what if it’s too late?”

your hand curled tighter around his.

“it’s not,” you whispered.

he didn’t answer.

the door opened again. his doctor stepped inside, face unreadable, holding a chart.

“jaehyun,” he said gently, “we’re going to run some more scans. the arrhythmia needs monitoring. we’ll need to keep you here for a few more days, but we’ll take it one step at a time, alright?”

jaehyun didn’t respond. just nodded, barely. his gaze stayed locked on yours.

and even though he was the one with the failing heart—you were the one who felt like yours was breaking.

the garden was quiet that afternoon. clouds hung low over the sky like they, too, had something to mourn. you sat beneath the same tree you used to visit with jaehyun, but now the breeze felt colder, and the laughter that had once lingered here was gone.

your crutches rested against the stone bench. your legs were sore, trembling slightly from walking more than you should have, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache inside your chest.

you hated this.

hated that he was back in a hospital bed. hated that he had to smile through his pain. hated that he said he was tired, and you knew he didn’t just mean physically.

you clutched your chest, fingers pressing over the soft fabric of your hoodie where your soulmark bloomed quietly underneath. seven petals now. only one left.

and still... he was sick.

what if the thread of fate was cruel? what if it was meant to show you who you'd lose, not who you'd keep?

tears spilled silently down your cheeks. you covered your face with your hands, biting your lip to keep from sobbing aloud.

“please,” you whispered to no one. “please don’t take him away from me.”

the sky didn’t answer. only the leaves rustling above.

the next day, you returned to his room. he was sitting up again, looking better, at least on the outside. his mom had gone home for a bit, and the nurses were switching shifts. it was just the two of you, like it had always been.

you stood at the door for a moment, crutches supporting you, your heart hammering against your ribs.

he looked up. his eyes widened.

“you’re walking again?”

“hobbling,” you corrected, forcing a smile.

jaehyun grinned, and for a second, it was easy to forget. easy to pretend he wasn’t hooked up to machines, that there wasn’t a chart by his bed filled with words like arrhythmia and risk assessment.

you limped to his bedside. he reached out for your hand before you could even sit.

“you came back,” he whispered.

“i’ll always come back,” you said.

he opened his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it—tugging up your sleeve and showing him your wrist.

the flower.

seven petals, glowing faintly.

his eyes widened.

“it’s almost complete,” you said, voice shaking with something too big for words. “just one more. and then... maybe then we’ll be safe.”

“safe?”

“you and me. i don’t know, i just... i think once it’s full, something will change. maybe you’ll get better. maybe the universe will give us a break. i feel it, jaehyun. we’re supposed to be together. for always.”

his hand shook as he reached out to brush his thumb over your soulmark.

“i don’t deserve you.”

“you’re the only one who ever could.”

you leaned in, cupped his face.

“you’re mine.”

and you kissed him.

not with desperation, but with certainty.

his lips were soft, still unfamiliar, but yours moved like they’d known each other forever. his hand slipped to your waist, and you climbed carefully onto the bed, settling beside him with your head against his shoulder, your bodies curled into each other like puzzle pieces that had finally clicked into place.

neither of you spoke. there was no need.

you just were.

together.

you stayed like that until a nurse knocked gently and warned you to be careful. you both scrambled like kids caught sneaking out, faces flushed, laughter caught in your throats.

but the laughter faded the next morning when the results came in.

his doctor walked in with a different expression this time—one that made your stomach twist.

“we need to run additional diagnostics,” he said calmly. “his heart rhythm is more irregular than expected. we’ll conduct a cardiac MRI, possibly a stress test. there are signs that we may be dealing with something beyond arrhythmia.”

you stopped breathing.

jaehyun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t react beyond a quiet nod. he didn’t want you to worry.

but you did.

the next day, you brought lunch to his room. he wasn’t hungry, not really, but he took a few bites of the rice and soup anyway. he didn’t want to talk about the test. neither did you.

so instead, you talked about everything else.

“do you remember the day we met?” he asked softly.

“i thought you were so beautiful. even back then. even when you looked like you wanted to kill me.”

you leaned your head on his shoulder again, your fingers tracing idle shapes on the blanket.

“you were so kind,” you whispered. “i didn’t expect someone like you to be real. and then you kept coming back, and i didn’t know what to do with all that... goodness.”

he turned his head, eyes soft.

“you don’t have to do anything with it. just take it.”

you looked up at him.

“can i kiss you again?”

he blushed, but nodded.

you didn’t wait.

you kissed him like you wanted to breathe him in. kissed him because everything about him was hope and light and love. kissed him because if tomorrow was cruel, you needed to give him all the softness today could offer.

his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“don’t leave,” he murmured into your hair.

“never,” you said. “you’re stuck with me. forever.”

you didn’t know what the tests would say.

you had left the hospital three days ago, not the way you once imagined you would. no victorious music playing in your head, no dramatic moment of running through the halls with a discharge paper in hand. no. instead, your steps were slow, accompanied by the steady rhythm of your crutches and the soft click of the cane—an item you had stubbornly refused at first, claiming it made you look like an old woman. but in the end, your physiotherapist convinced you it was the next step, a temporary aid, not a defeat.

seoyun had packed your things while humming lightly, her words gentle, her smile warm. she promised to visit often, to check in and make sure you were still behaving like the little diva she’d grown fond of. your parents were there too, proud but cautiously optimistic, helping you settle into the car with pillows behind your back, like you were made of glass. everything outside the hospital felt too bright, too loud. the city buzzed as if nothing had happened, as if your world hadn’t turned upside down.

the first two nights at home were quiet. too quiet. the silence pressed against your chest in a way the heart monitor never did. you missed the soft beeps, the nurses’ laughter down the hall, the smell of sterilized linens… but more than anything, you missed him.

jaehyun.

so on the third morning, you asked the driver to take you back. you dressed carefully, picking a soft sweater he once said he liked, something warm but not too heavy. you held a small bouquet in your hands—flowers that resembled the ones on your wrist, delicate and soft, as if plucked from that imaginary garden your souls seemed to share.

your legs were stronger now, but they still shook sometimes. the stairs at your house were your enemies, and you avoided them like the plague. but today, walking down the hospital corridor again with your cane and crutch tucked beneath each arm, you felt determined. the familiar scent of antiseptic didn’t scare you anymore. this place had become a part of you.

you found jaehyun in his room, sitting by the window, legs folded, sketchbook untouched in his lap. he looked up when the door creaked, and the second he saw you, his entire face changed. the tiredness didn’t disappear, but something warmer surfaced beneath it—something like relief, or maybe love.

“you’re here,” he said softly, as if afraid his voice would shatter the moment.

“of course i am,” you replied, stepping inside with slow care. “did you think i’d abandon you now?”

he laughed weakly, but the sound faded too quickly. you moved closer and placed the bouquet on the side table. he didn’t reach for them. he just kept looking at you.

“you look good,” he murmured.

“and you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

he tilted his head with a small smile. “i haven’t.”

“why?”

“dreams,” he said vaguely. “memories. fear. take your pick.”

you sighed and took a seat beside him on the bed, adjusting your position with a tiny wince when your knee clicked. he noticed, but said nothing.

“i thought maybe… i could cheer you up a little.” you pushed the bouquet closer to him. “i got these for you.”

he finally looked at them, really looked, and his hand brushed over the petals with the same reverence he once showed your drawing. “they look like your flower.”

you nodded, glancing down at your wrist. the mark was almost complete. just one more petal.

“i thought they’d remind you of what’s waiting for you,” you said gently. “what we have. what we can still build together.”

his eyes turned glassy. his lips parted but no sound came. instead, he reached for your hand. his fingers trembled as they found yours.

“i’m sorry i scared you the other day,” he whispered.

“don’t apologize. you didn’t ask to collapse.”

“i should’ve told someone i wasn’t feeling well. i didn’t want to worry you. i just… i felt so happy. i forgot for a second that i’m not like everyone else.”

you leaned in, your hand reaching to tuck his hair behind his ear. “you are like everyone else, jaehyun. you just happen to have a heart that’s a little more stubborn.”

he chuckled, then fell quiet again. the silence stretched between you, but not uncomfortably.

“i hate this,” he said suddenly. “i hate being here again. i hate the machines, the blood draws, the looks on people’s faces like they’re waiting for something awful to happen.”

you tightened your grip on his hand. “i know. but you’re not alone this time.”

he looked at you then, and his eyes were full of everything—grief, fear, longing, and something fierce. something brave. “i know,” he repeated, and for the first time that day, it sounded like he believed it.

you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. slowly, carefully, you shifted onto the bed, curling beside him like you had done once before, only this time you didn’t feel like the fragile one. your head rested against his shoulder, your legs tangled slightly, and his arms came around you, warm and steady. you stayed like that for a long time, both of you silent, watching the clock hands move as if they mattered.

“we’re going to be okay,” you whispered.

“yeah,” he said softly. “we will.”

but neither of you knew the results were arriving the next day.

and they wouldn’t be good.

the hallway outside jaehyun’s room smelled faintly of antiseptic and something warmer—like the remnants of someone’s coffee left to go cold. the light filtering through the blinds was soft, but it couldn’t soften the conversation taking place just beyond the threshold of the door.

his mother stood beside the doctor, hands clenched in front of her, knuckles pale against the beige of her coat sleeves. her voice trembled as she tried to keep herself together, the way she always did—strong for her son, for the world.

“how is this possible?” she asked, voice thin and breaking. “he was discharged with a good prognosis. you said he was stable. he’s been taking his medication, doing everything right…”

the doctor sighed, his expression apologetic, brows drawn together in weary resignation. “we ran a full cardiac panel and imaging. the arrhythmia has worsened significantly. his left ventricular function is dropping. it could be the result of an undetected progressive cardiomyopathy. this wasn’t visible on the last scan… but it’s advancing fast.”

her lips parted in disbelief, but no sound came. just silence, thick and suffocating. she shook her head slowly, tears welling in her eyes. “are you saying my son… might not…”

“we’re not there yet,” the doctor said carefully. “but we need to prepare. we’ll begin new treatments, increase monitoring. he’ll stay here under close observation. we need to reevaluate the transplant list... and time is critical.”

inside the room, jaehyun lay still in his bed, staring out the window with wide, quiet eyes. the sunlight painted soft gold against the pale blue of the curtains, but it didn’t reach him.

he could hear every word.

he didn’t move. didn’t blink. just let the noise blur into a low hum.

his heartbeat was too loud.

but not in the way he once loved when he was with you.

his fingers rested over the edge of his blanket, curling slightly as the doctor’s voice echoed again in his head—time is critical.

he closed his eyes, willing it all away, imagining the sound of your laughter instead, the soft scolding tone in your voice when you told him to stop being cocky, the way your eyes sparkled when you teased him.

you.

his mind searched for you instinctively, like a compass spinning toward home.

he pictured you standing by the edge of the garden in that hospital gown you hated, grumbling about your cane, rolling your eyes but letting him help you anyway. he remembered how your face looked when you smiled at him the day of your first kiss—like he was the only person in the world.

you’re like a vitamin, he thought. no… more than that.

you were air.

the reason he could breathe in moments like this.

his throat tightened. he turned his head away from the door, pretending he didn’t hear his mother’s soft sob outside, didn’t notice the way the doctor’s voice grew quieter in a vain attempt to protect him from the truth.

but the truth had already arrived.

and it sat heavy in his chest, aching, thudding unevenly.

he wasn’t afraid of dying.

but the thought of leaving you behind?

of not seeing your flower bloom to its final petal? of never getting to draw you again, touch your cheek, press his lips to yours under skies of warmth and belonging?

that was the kind of fear that broke him.

and in that moment, he felt like a boy again.

small.

helpless.

but still in love. so hopelessly in love with you, it hurt more than the failing beat of his own heart.

the garden was a quiet refuge, a small patch of life bursting through the cold sterility of the hospital walls. you had slipped away from the buzz of the ward, leaning heavily on your crutches as you made your way beneath the towering old tree. the branches swayed gently above you, leaves whispering with the breeze, as if carrying some secret message only the two of you could understand. you settled onto the worn wooden bench, your body trembling from the effort of moving, but your heart heavier for different reasons. the exhaustion of the day, the weight of your uncertain future, and the ache of missing jaehyun’s presence all pressed down on you.

you wiped at your eyes, trying to hold back the tears, but they came anyway—slow, quiet, a release you desperately needed. you hated feeling vulnerable like this, hated how fragile you suddenly were, but it was the truth you had to face. you were still fragile, still broken in so many ways.

inside the hospital, jaehyun lay in his room, the sterile white walls closing in around him like a cage. he stared out the window, watching the leaves move in rhythm with the wind. his heart was heavy, but his thoughts drifted to you — to your smile, to the way you moved, even on your bad days. you were a light in the darkness, a reason to hold on when everything felt so bleak. he clutched the thin hospital blanket closer, as if it could somehow shield him from the fear that clawed at his chest.

he whispered your name into the silence, a prayer, a promise, a plea. “y/n...” the word caught in his throat, fragile as a breath.

you glanced at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his words. “how do you... keep going? when it’s so hard?”

“because i have a reason. you.” his hand brushed yours lightly, a touch full of unspoken promises. “you’re my reason.”

your breath caught, and tears threatened to fall again. “but what if—”

“don’t say it,” jaehyun interrupted gently, lifting your chin so your eyes met. “we don’t have to face what-ifs now. we have today. and today, we fight. together.”

you didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. the doctors had warned of the risks, the uncertainty. every test, every result, was a new mountain to climb. but in that moment, beneath the ancient tree, you allowed yourself to believe in something more — in hope, in the strength of the connection that bound you and jaehyun.

you thought of the flower on your wrist, the petals blooming slowly, a symbol of the bond that neither of you could explain but both felt deeply. it was nearly complete — five delicate petals circling the center, each one a promise, a sign that you were meant to find each other, to fight together.

“maybe,” you whispered to the wind, “maybe that last petal will bloom when we’re ready... when we’ve made it through.”

back in his room, jaehyun’s eyes glistened with tears as he imagined your words. he reached out toward the window, as if he could touch you through the glass, feel your warmth. “i’ll be here, y/n,” he promised quietly. “i’ll fight to be with you. no matter what.”

neither of you could say what the future held — only that you had each other. and sometimes, that was enough to carry you through the darkest days.

the days passed with a quiet weight, each one slower than the last, carrying a heaviness that settled deep in your chest. jaehyun was still there, still fighting, but the change was undeniable. the sharp outline of his face grew thinner, his once steady hands now trembling even at rest. some mornings, he couldn’t summon the strength to sit up, his body surrendering to exhaustion long before the sun had risen.

you were always by his side — sometimes holding his hand, sometimes just sitting quietly, the silence between you filled with unspoken worries. you tried to be his rock, but behind closed doors, when no one was watching, the tears came. you cried softly in the bathroom, wiping your cheeks before returning, forcing a smile that felt like breaking glass beneath the surface.

“jaehyun,” you whispered one afternoon, your voice barely audible, “you’re stronger than this. you have to be.”

he gave you a faint, tired smile, eyes heavy but warm. “i wish i could be,” he said, voice rough. “but some days... some days my body just won’t listen.”

your heart clenched, but you reached for his hand, holding it gently as if to anchor him in this fading moment. “we’re going to get through this. together.”

he squeezed your fingers weakly, a silent promise.

a few days ago, you had noticed the flower on your wrist had finally blossomed completely — all six petals glowing softly beneath your skin. it should have been a moment of joy, a sign that maybe fate had smiled on you both. but you kept it to yourself, afraid it might feel like a goodbye, a closing chapter neither of you was ready to face.

“why don’t you tell me about it?” jaehyun asked one evening, catching the hesitance in your gaze.

you hesitated, heart aching. “because... i’m scared it means something. that it’s a sign of an ending.”

he shook his head slowly, exhaustion dimming his spark. “then let’s make it a sign of a beginning. of hope.”

his words should have comforted you, but all you could feel was the tightening grip of fear.

nights were the hardest. you stayed by his bedside, watching his shallow breaths, the way his body trembled under the thin hospital blanket. you wanted to scream, to shake the unfairness of it all — but instead, you whispered soft prayers into the dark, fingers tracing the invisible red thread you both shared.

“jaehyun,” you said quietly one morning, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, “no matter what happens, you’re the most important thing in my life.”

he opened his eyes, searching yours with a fragile clarity. “and you’re mine.”

there was so much love wrapped in those words, but beneath it was a looming shadow neither dared to name.

sometimes, when you thought he was asleep, you caught him staring at the ceiling, lips moving silently as if holding on to memories, to dreams, to you.

the hospital walls closed in around you both — a cage of uncertainty and fragile hope. but still, you clung to each other, to the small moments of laughter, the whispered confessions, the gentle touches that said, without words, “i’m here.”

and you prayed, over and over, that this thread tying your souls together would be strong enough to hold you through the storm.

the day had been quiet when you arrived at the hospital, your steps slow but steady on your cane, clutching the small bouquet of flowers — fragile, like the hope you tried to hold onto. the door to jaehyun’s room was slightly ajar, but as you pushed it open, your heart shattered instantly: the room was empty. panic flared in your chest. before you could even process, the sharp clang of wheels echoed down the hall. two camilleros rushed past, pushing jaehyun’s bed swiftly down the corridor. his pale face was barely visible, eyes closed, tubes tangled around him, machines beeping wildly.

“jaehyun!” you screamed, your voice raw and desperate, echoing through the sterile hallways. “jaehyun, wait!” your crutches clattered as you tried to follow, heart pounding violently against your ribs.

nurses and doctors shouted, their voices frantic. “code blue, code blue! prepare the resuscitation room!” you could hear the fear, the urgency. your world narrowed down to just him — the only thing that ever mattered.

a strong hand suddenly grabbed your arm, and you were stopped mid-step. seoyun’s face was pale, her eyes glistening with tears but filled with a calm you didn’t feel. “y/n, please. you can’t go in there. they’re doing everything they can,” she said softly, but her voice trembled.

another nurse gently held your other arm, grounding you. you struggled, wanting to break free, to run, to be with him. “he’s not—he can’t—” your voice cracked, tears streaming uncontrollably now, your sobs wracking your body. “he has to be okay. he has to be!”

they held you firmly as you screamed his name, your heart fracturing with every step the camilla disappeared down the corridor. voices faded into a blur, your mind caught in a storm of memories — every smile, every whispered “i love you,” every moment when his hand fit perfectly in yours.

you remembered the quiet mornings in his hospital room, the way he used to brush your hair back tenderly, the secret smiles shared over silly jokes, the soft confessions in the dark, the warmth of his embrace that made the cold sterile walls feel like home.

“why?” you sobbed to the empty hallway, clutching your chest as if you could hold your broken heart together. “why does everything I love have to be taken away?”

minutes felt like hours as you sat in the stark hospital waiting area, your hands trembling, clutching the wilted bouquet you had brought him. your tears had long since dried, but your heart hammered painfully in your chest, refusing to calm. the sterile silence was broken only by hurried footsteps and distant voices — all pulling you further into the unbearable waiting.

then, quietly but with a steady purpose, jaehyun’s mother appeared, her face pale but composed, eyes shadowed with exhaustion and worry. she approached you slowly, her hands nervously twisting a delicate handkerchief. the two of you shared a look — a mix of unspoken grief and fragile hope.

after a long moment, a doctor came into view. his expression was gentle but heavy, the weight of what he was about to say pressing down on him. he paused, searching for the right words. “mrs. park... y/n...” he began softly, “we did everything possible. jaehyun fought so hard... but...”

his voice caught. jaehyun’s mother reached out, squeezing your hand with a tremble. “he didn’t make it,” the doctor finished quietly.

the words hung in the air like a cruel fog. you felt your breath catch, your body going numb. tears welled up again, threatening to spill. you wanted to scream, to fight, to deny this terrible truth — but there was no escaping it.

jaehyun’s mother leaned close, voice cracking, “he was so brave... and he loved you very much.”

you clung to those words even as your world shattered around you, the depth of your loss crashing in waves that stole your breath and left you broken.

the day was cloaked in a soft, relentless gray, the sky heavy as if it too mourned the loss it witnessed. the air was thick, almost tangible with sorrow, as you stood among the quiet crowd gathered beneath the somber canopy of trees. the gentle rustle of leaves whispered in the wind, a fragile soundtrack to the unbearable silence that wrapped around your chest like a vise.

jaehyun lay in his simple casket, pale and peaceful, a stark contrast to the vibrant life he once held. the flowers—white and delicate—circled the edges like a halo, and for a moment, you imagined he was just resting, that he would open his eyes and smile at you, as he always did, that same shy, warm smile that had once lit up every corner of your world.

but the cruel truth was there, undeniable and relentless. the distance between life and death stretched wide and cold, and no whispered prayer or desperate wish could close the gap.

you found yourself standing at the edge, trembling, unable to speak the words trapped deep inside your heart—words you’d rehearsed a thousand times but that now felt hopelessly inadequate. the words that should have been said, the love that should have been confessed, the promises that would now remain forever unfulfilled.

jaehyun had been your light in the darkest moments, your steady anchor when the world spun too fast. he was the quiet strength behind your smiles, the gentle hand that wiped away your tears, the voice that told you everything would be okay even when nothing seemed to be. and now, the silence he left behind was deafening.

you wished you could rewind time, hold him tighter, say everything you never dared to. tell him how he was more than just your soulmate—he was your best friend, your safe place, your heart’s quiet home. tell him you loved him in ways words could never capture, how every breath you took after meeting him was touched by the warmth of his presence.

but there was only this stillness now. a stillness that echoed with what could have been.

your tears fell freely as you traced invisible lines over the casket, a silent goodbye you could never fully voice. the weight of loss crushed you, a sorrow so vast it felt as though it would swallow you whole. you whispered his name into the wind, hoping it might carry your love to wherever he was now—hoping he could feel you even as you stood apart.

around you, faces blurred with shared grief, but none understood the depth of what you felt. how a part of your soul had gone with him, how the future you had dreamed of was now nothing but a fragile memory slipping through your fingers.

and yet, beneath the unbearable pain, a fragile seed of something else stirred—gratitude. for the moments you had. for the way he had shown you what it meant to truly care, to be seen, to be loved. for the light he had brought into your life, brief but brilliant.

you pressed your hand to your chest, where the red thread still curled softly beneath your skin—its petals incomplete but vibrant—a reminder that even in loss, some connections never truly break.

as the ceremony drew to a close and the earth embraced him gently, you stood there, broken but holding onto that sliver of hope, that maybe, somehow, in another time, another life, your souls would find each other again.

the cemetery was quiet, the world hushed as if it too was holding its breath for you. the cold wind brushed gently against your cheeks, but it was the weight in your chest that truly burned—a heaviness no words could lift. you stood before jaehyun’s grave, the simple stone etched with his name, a fragile marker of a life so painfully short.

your hands trembled as you reached out to touch the cool marble, tracing the letters that felt impossibly distant, yet heartbreakingly close. “jaehyun,” you whispered, voice breaking like a fragile thread, “i’m still here. i’m still holding on, even though every part of me wants to fall apart.”

tears spilled down your face, hot and relentless, carrying every ounce of love and sorrow you’d tried to hold inside. “i never got to tell you everything i wanted,” you said, “how much you meant to me... how you saved me when i thought i was lost... how your smile was the only light that ever made sense.” your breath hitched, the memories flooding in, both cruel and beautiful. “i’m so sorry i couldn’t save you. i’m sorry we didn’t have more time.”

you knelt by the grave, placing the last wilted petals from your bouquet on the earth, petals that mirrored the half-bloomed flower on your wrist — a symbol of the future you both dreamed of but never reached. “the red thread... it brought us together, didn’t it?” you whispered, voice barely audible, “i believe it. i believe we were meant to find each other, even if only for a little while.”

the wind picked up, as if carrying your words to him, and you closed your eyes, imagining his presence there—warm, gentle, just beyond the veil. “i’ll carry you with me,” you promised through your tears, “in every breath, every heartbeat. and maybe, someday, when this pain fades, we’ll meet again. in another life, another time.”

the ache in your chest was sharp, suffocating, but beneath it, a fragile ember of hope glowed. hope that love this true could never really die.

you stayed there long after the others had gone, speaking softly to the emptiness, to the memory of him. and as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the quiet earth, you finally stood, wiping your tears away with trembling hands, and took a slow, steady breath.

“goodbye, jaehyun,” you said, voice trembling but sure, “until we meet again.”

[lily-blue]

Relationship status: taken

☆ characters: uni student!mark & you ☆ genre: soulmate au, college au ☆ warnings: alcohol consumption, insecurities ☆ summary: you live in a world where your soulmate marks tell you fair and square whether your special someone is taken or single; clearly, it shouldn’t be too complicated to figure out who is meant to be for you… ☆ words: 18,4k ☆ also: this day marks the end of the eleventh year of our friendship (and the end of the first whole year since we’ve been living in different countries), crazy, isn’t it? but when you really look at it, i think it’s crazier that among billions of people, i could find someone as amazing and perfect for me as you are. the older i get, the more grateful i am for you and your unconditional love and support ♥ please, stay by my side for many more decades, @dat-town, because there’s just no way i’d ever consider letting you go ♥

Privacy was a unique subject in your world, and something you had always had a hard time to comprehend with your soulmate’s relationship status tattooed on your skin.

When you had been sixteen and stupidly in love with your best friend’s older brother, you had been terrified by the thought that he might have seen you only as a little sister - you had also been super anxious to have your feelings returned and get in a relationship with him just for his mark to remain the same: single. Not to mention the very likely possibility of you having an older soulmate somewhere out there whose heart you would have unintentionally broken the moment you had become someone else’s girlfriend.

At that young age, the concept of love had made you feel so petrified that you had pretty much given up on ever confessing to someone even before you had received your own mark on your eighteenth birthday.

It had come with time, with the influence of many different people and mindsets and your own emotional growth through yearning and heartbreak, but eventually, you could acknowledge that there was less harm in your marks than you had initially thought as a teenager. After all, no one had to be in love with the person they got in a relationship with for the magical tattoos to change. What you needed was a vocal confirmation of your desire to live as a couple, thus breaking off a relationship that wasn’t meant to be could save you from spending precious years on someone who was only killing time with you before settling down with the one their heart was beating for.

Logically speaking, your soulmate marks - when one was mature enough to understand that there was a significant difference between a good match and a perfect match in life - were only there to save people their time and tears. You just had to be brave and open enough to give people a chance to test your compatibility according to a higher power. 

Ironically, your closest friend at university had a completely different take on this matter. She openly hated the way no one seemed to cherish other people’s feelings, belittling their love just because they weren’t the one for them. Yuju romanticised the process of falling in love and those pure feelings that naturally grew stronger the more time one spent with those who made them feel genuinely happy and grateful to be alive. Your differences didn’t come in the way of your friendship, though. In fact, the two of you had become friends when you had seen her scream at someone for breaking up with her childhood friend not a second after their tattoos hadn’t changed once the boy had asked the girl to be his girlfriend.

You admired her for her lack of fear of confrontation. You could have never drawn so much attention to yourself at a crowded coffee shop.

You could barely bear the immense amount of attention your boyfriend was giving you on a daily basis. Hence, you were actually glad that Dejun never complained when you dragged your friend to your public dates, so you wouldn’t have had to be the only one who was asked about her mundane days and was showered in free drinks, snacks and desserts.

(It was also a nice addition that with Yuju present, it was less likely that your boyfriend went overboard with his spending despite being a gentleman who would have rather bought three movie tickets with his own money than let you and your best friend chip in.)

‘Man, you look so disappointed! Haechan will never let me live this down,’ someone’s whiny voice came from your side, effectively pulling you back to the present: to the biggest lecture hall in your university where your Creative writing professor and the Lyrics writing professor from the Music Department had assigned you a partner for your semester project.

With furrowed eyebrows, you straightened your back and looked at the boy who was talking to you.

‘Sorry?’

You couldn’t remember much of what he had said. You had been still thinking about your pizza date with Dejun after your class - for which Yuju couldn’t come with you because of her internship - when his voice had reached you and pulled you out of your head.

The boy lifted his hand and pointed at something on your right. Reluctantly, you turned your head, unsure whether you should have focused on the brunette who was staring at you two like she was about to slice your throat or the goofy guy who had his phone directed at you. The latter could have been as easily taking a selfie with the grumpy guy next to him - Renjun, if you had remembered correctly - as recording your weird conversation with the one who had addressed you.

You turned back to your assumed project partner.

‘What’s happening?’ You asked, hoping that your question didn’t come off as offensive as it sounded in your head. The lecture hall might have already been half-empty, but there were still a lot of students around you, and if this person scolded you for being a scatterbrain, the humiliation would have haunted you for weeks.

‘Don’t mind him, I’ll make him delete the video,’ the boy reassured you, so you finally knew for sure whom he had pointed at a few seconds ago. Still, the revelation left you with more questions than answers. Suddenly, you weren’t sure even of your most logical explanations. Was he really your project partner? Had he already introduced himself? Should you have introduced yourself?

Why was his friend recording your conversation? Was he even close enough for his phone to pick up on what you were saying?

‘… and it’s his new hobby to make fun of me since Haeri asked me out because apparently, I’m awkward with girls, and it’s ridiculous that my soulmate found me while he’s still single…’

You scratched your nape and turned your head back towards the boy’s friend. His phone was still in his hands, and his smile got visibly wider with each passing second as the guy in front of your seat kept rambling, super clearly digging his own grave for no real reason. You didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain their odd dynamic to you, why he was going into so much detail when you were strangers.

Speaking of which…

‘Are you a music major? We’re assigned to do the semester project together, aren’t we?’ You cut him off as gently as you could manage, deliberately disregarding the obnoxious laughter that came from your side almost immediately.

‘Yes, yes we are! That’s why I was asking for your name and whether you wanted to change kkt IDs, but you looked so disappointed, and Haechan thought it was funny how much you hated this pairing already, and…’

Oh. So this was what had happened. He had walked up to you while you had been in your head and mistaken your growing anxiety due to your outdoor date with Dejun for your nonexistent displeasure towards him as a project partner. It was so silly, but it did put the past couple of minutes into context.

You couldn’t help but smile.

‘I’m not disappointed. It’s… it’s just a misunderstanding. I was thinking about something…’ you tried to clear up the mess, mortified as you realised that you had almost told this boy that the real reason for the frown on your face was your boyfriend’s love language rather than your first impression of him. You weren’t usually this chatty, and you scolded yourself even more mentally when you remembered that his friend was recording your conversation. ‘Else. I was thinking about something else.’

‘Really?’ The boy’s surprise was palpable, his distressed facial features slowly morphing into something less tense as he reciprocated your small smile. ‘That’s cool. That’s more than cool, actually. Awesome.’

You weren’t so sure that it was really that awesome, but you decided to just let him be, then introduced yourself properly and you fished your phone out of your hoodie’s pocket, so he could add himself to your friend list on Kakao.

‘So… Mark,’ you stared up at him once he gave your phone back, and you checked his name in your app. His profile picture was unexpectedly cool: he was sitting in a dimly lit studio with neon lights in the background, holding onto what looked like an electric guitar. He was wearing a beanie indoors and you had this uncharacteristic urge to tease him for it despite not knowing him at all. ‘When would you like to brainstorm about our topic? Do you have any part-time jobs or other extra obligations after your classes? Anything we should calculate with?’

‘I do have one actually! I’m working at the vinyl store near campus on the weekends, but most of my classes are morning or early afternoon classes, except for my lyrics writing seminar, which is… right now. So yeah, weekday afternoons are cool with me,’ he explained without taking a look at his timetable, but you guessed it was okay enough since you were already a month into your first semester, which meant most people had memorised their schedules. 

If you still mixed up your Wednesdays and Thursdays, that was no one else’s business but yours. (And maybe Yuju’s, too, since she was the one who always had to remind you to bring breakfast for your first class on Thursdays, otherwise you would need to sit through two long seminars, one after another, with an empty stomach.)

‘That sounds manageable. I also have two free afternoons a week. How often do you think we should meet up? I guess, we both have other classes, too, but this project is fifty percent of our grade, so maybe…’

‘Twice a week works for me. I actually really like this class, you know. So call me nerdy, but I want to give this project my hundred and ten percent this semester,’ Mark confessed, his cheeks taking on a soft, rose-tinted hue, which you found quite endearing.

You were also glad that in spite of his clear discomfort - someone really should have told his friend to stop teasing him with his stupid phone -, the boy took the initiative, so you didn’t have to admit aloud that your grades were actually very important to you. Sure, you wouldn’t have gone as far as to say you were embarrassed that you cared about your education, and you would have mustered up your courage to ask him to take your project more seriously if he had been one of the slackers, but it was definitely easier on your heart this way.

‘You can absolutely call me nerdy then. I’m a self-diagnosed perfectionist,’ you decided to add with a semi-self-conscious giggle just when the silence could have stretched too long, Mark’s eyes lighting up at your confession.

You could see it on his face that he was about to ask you something - your best guess was that just like you, he didn’t have any more classes that afternoon, so he was wondering whether you would have liked to get a headstart on your project together -, but then he quickly pressed his lips together, into a tight smile, when his friend threw his arm over his shoulder.

‘Makgeolli, let’s go,’ the guy with the silver-lavender hair exclaimed, pulling his friend close to his side like he hadn’t been bullying him in the past five minutes or so. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the name he chose to call Mark on had annoyed the other, too. After all, it was hard to picture anyone who would have liked to be addressed as “rice wine” when there were so many other options… 

‘Man, get off me,’ the boy tried to push his friend’s arm off him, but the other was too clingy and insisting, while Mark clearly had enough experience with this kind of behaviour to know that any future attempts would have been futile.

They had such a weird dynamic, it was borderline concerning.

(Now it made more sense why the boy had felt the need to explain his friend’s actions to you despite your short acquaintanceship. Without your project partner’s vocal confirmation, you would have assumed that he was in real danger around the other boy.)

‘Canada, I’m starving,’ the hyperactive boy whined before he pointed at you with his head like you had already been at that level, when you didn’t even know his name. Wasn’t he a bit too mannerless for his own good? Maybe, it wasn’t that his soulmate wasn’t around, it was just she didn’t want to be found. ‘I’ve seen you already exchanged numbers, so we’re good to go,’ he reasoned, his argument reminding you that you couldn’t have worked on your project that afternoon even if you had wanted to. Therefore, Mark and you didn’t have more business together for the time being.

‘Yeah, but…’

‘It’s okay. I actually have… somewhere to be today, so I’ll text you about my schedule later?’ You half-said, half-asked, a little unsure because of all the attention his friend was giving you with his mischievous eyes. Were you hallucinating things, or were his eyes looking for the soulmate mark on your wrist?

You pulled the sleeve of your hoodie lower on instinct, before you stood up abruptly and threw your notebook and glitter gel pens into your backpack.

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll be waiting!’ You swallowed back a giggle when you saw his friend elbow him in the side right after his eager exclamation had left his mouth. His red cheeks and wide eyes were kind of cute. ‘Khm… I mean, not literally. You don’t have to feel pressured, I have other things to do, too. You can text me any time,’ Mark tried to save the situation by making it four times worse.

You willed yourself to take him seriously, though. It felt like the right thing to do.

‘Thanks. But I’ll message you once I’m back at the dorm. Self-diagnosed perfectionist, you know,’ you smiled at him, and tilted your head forwards just enough to be considered as a somewhat polite goodbye when your gaze shifted from him to his friend. You would have felt bad for judging him silently if you hadn’t shown him any manners, either, but this was where you drew the line with people who didn’t pass your vibe check: at the bare minimum. ‘See you.’

Nearing the exit, you could hear both boys reciting the same two words to you in surprising harmony, but you were already too far away from them to tell what his obnoxious friend had said to Mark to make him scream his name from the top of his lungs. Haechan. Hm, it didn’t ring any bells.

Two weeks into your Creative writing project, you could confidently say that your professor tried his best to make his class the most unique and enjoyable that semester. Having shorter lectures in order to provide additional quality time for brainstorming for the students was a praised idea as well, something both Mark and you appreciated despite your frequent text messages and meet-ups. After all, you hadn’t known each other before this semester and to be able to create something as personal as your topic required… You both had to become more comfortable around the other. Otherwise, you would never be able to connect on an intimate - strictly platonic, yet undeniably deep - level. That was just how art worked.

Afraid of possible rumours on campus, the inevitable misunderstandings based on them and how the unnecessary drama would have affected you - a notorious conflict avoider - and your grades, you had told Dejun about Mark and your future interactions at the first chance you had gotten: the moment he had picked you up for your date that afternoon. Like the greenest flag he was, your boyfriend had had more questions about the project itself than the boy as the only thing he truly cared about was that Mark didn’t try to force all the work on you and didn’t act inappropriately in your company.

Which he didn’t. Mark was always on time, he always did his parts, he always brought new ideas to the table and was always kind and respectful towards you even when his actions came off a little timid. So naturally, you had nothing to complain about. Dejun had nothing to be worried about. Everything was beyond picture perfect on paper.

So why was that the more time you spent with Mark Lee, the more you felt like you were cheating on your boyfriend in a way? Even though both of you were mindful of the other’s relationship, hence never sat close enough to one another to start any gossip. There had been one time when you had even refused a free chocolate croissant that a barista had offered you because he had thought you were a couple, hence entitled for their promotion.

Looking down at the half-eaten chicken-mayo sandwich on your plate, then back up at the boy in front of you who was jotting down snippets in his notebook like wildfire, you couldn’t help but wonder whether this nasty feeling inside of you rooted in the fact that you were open with Mark about something immensely personal that you had never had the guts to tell Dejun. Were you unfaithful to your partner whenever you admitted that even after a year with the boy you called your soulmate, you weren’t sure about the hype that surrounded these types of relationships?

Sure, yours was an amazing person who cared for your physical and mental well-being, but as awful as it sounded, you didn’t feel like you couldn’t have lived without him. His affection gave something extra to your boring, everyday life, but you could have gone without his gifts and questions for a long while, which didn’t seem to match with all those low-key desperate and dependent descriptions people could find in papers that analysed this phenomenon.

Where was the gut-wrenching feeling of being away from your soulmate for too long? Where was the soul-consuming contentment their presence was supposed to give you? You weren’t sure you had ever gotten to experience those butterflies in your tummy, either. It was more like anxiety that took over you whenever you thought of all the money and time Dejun spent on you when you were so plain and boring.

Not that you hated your personality. You were confident in your own, quiet way. Something just didn’t add up. It wasn’t how you had pictured it when you had been younger.

‘What do you think about these lines? I’m not quite sure yet… Prof might think it’s a bit too dramatic. Man, I don’t want that,’ he grimaced as he pushed his notebook towards you, then took a sip from his lukewarm drink. The whipped cream on top of Mark’s iced chocolate had become such a sorry sight, honestly.

He didn’t seem to mind, though.

So you didn’t ponder over it, either, despite your unreasonable urge to take it out of his hands and order a new iced chocolate for him for his hard work. He really hadn’t exaggerated when he had said he wanted to give his all during this project.

Hovering over the worn notebook, you read through the new passages, frowning at how much his words actually resonated with you not because it was a bad thing, but because despite the ugly truth in them, they did sound dramatic. You could totally picture your classmates calling you ungrateful for not appreciating what both of you had: a caring significant other.

‘Yeah, I… Maybe we could switch up “lifeless” with… Hm,’ you tapped your lower lip with your index finger once, twice, three times, before you leaned back against your chair and let out a contemplative sigh. ‘You know, I thought writing a whole ass story about the same topic is difficult, but these rhymes! It feels like I’m writing nursery songs when I finally come up with something,’ you let out a pained chuckle because seriously, even with your expanded vocabulary, your ideas were nowhere near as amazing as Mark’s verses.

He was so good at what he was doing.

But then again, he was in his last year just like you. And he had passed the uni entrance exam of his major with flying colours, if his stories could have been trusted.

‘I like your nursery songs,’ Mark comments between two sips, his gaze on his notebook so damn intense, you were kind of convinced he didn’t even notice he was complimenting you. Otherwise, his cheeks would have already had a rose-coloured tint to them (like it usually happened when he felt embarrassed or too exposed). ‘Besides, I could never write over twenty pages about the same characters. That’s just wild.’

You sucked in your lower lip, the sudden hit of shyness dressing your whole face in a darker, crimson colour as you tried to downplay your hard work in your head, as you tried so hard to find the perfect words that could have simultaneously got the spotlight off you and belittle those hours you spent on your stories…

Your struggle must have been written on your face, because before you could have done as much as open your mouth, Mark smiled at you and your mind went blank.

So you just accepted the compliment - was that a compliment? - with a small ‘Thanks,’ and an even smaller smile.

Since you preferred working on your stories in silence, in the sanctuary of your room where no one judged you for rewriting the same paragraphs way too many times, you didn’t have your Google doc pulled up in front of you. However, you did take a couple of notes in your phone while you were munching on the rest of your sandwich.

You liked how neither you, nor Mark felt the need to fill the silence all the time with mindless chatter. You also liked how he was undoubtedly curious, but never pushy. He made sure you knew he was eager to hear about your process, your life even, but kept his questions to the minimum.

It had been a while since you met someone who adjusted to your needs so easily, Yuju being the last and second addition to the group right after your father. 

‘You know…’ Mark started in a neutral voice, urging you to shift your focus point and look up at him. Hence, you did, abandoning your phone slowly as you carefully put it back on the table.

Mark was silent for a moment, wordlessly scribbling out words then rewriting entire lines in his already messy notebook, which admittedly made you smile under your nose. The peculiar sight almost made you believe that you could have written a page or two yourself in the boy’s company: that as unthinkable as it sounded, his presence wouldn’t have forced you out of the zone while you were immersed in your work.

You shook your head to get rid of this useless train of thoughts. It wasn’t appropriate; and the fact that your instincts told you it wasn’t appropriate just made it even more inappropriate, because seriously. Why was it freaking you out internally that the two of you clicked so much when it should have made you relieved instead? Wasn’t it an amazing thing that he was a nice project partner?

‘Sometimes it feels like Haeri likes me more than how much I like her.’

Your eyes widened in shock before you quickly schooled your facial expression. You didn’t want him to feel judged when you were the last person on Earth who had the right to call him out on his confession. Not that anyone should have been allowed to make comments on other people’s personal business, let alone their relationship with their soulmate.

Trying to disregard just how heavy the atmosphere got, you tilted your head sideways and gave the boy a non-judgemental smile, because that was the best you could do with your lack of experience in comforting people. You hoped your seemingly calm demeanour would distract him long enough, so you could think back of the last time your father had helped you through a rough period in your life.

What had he done when you had gotten rejected by the university you had wanted to attend the most? Ah, he had brought you something sweet, a slice of red velvet cake maybe, and told you his own experience with rejections and how he had gotten his shit together each time he had come face to face with a closed door. 

‘Sometimes I get anxious when it’s just the two of us with Dejun.’

The urge to cover your mouth with both of your hands as soon as the words were out in the open was strong, but you tried your best to fight it and act rather nonchalant: like what you had just admitted didn’t go against everything the society taught you about soulmates. Like it was normal that you felt so on edge around someone who was made especially for you.

You reached out for your own drink and slurped it until the last freaking drop, so you had a convenient excuse to stand up and leave the scene. You didn’t look back as you walked up to the counter and stood in the line, wishing for the barista to work at the speed of a snail. You intended to waste at least five or so minutes on waiting, so your heart could have rested a bit before you had to face Mark again.

Why had you said that? You shouldn’t have said that. Not like that. You should have found a better way to put it. Or you should have just kept your mouth shut and found another way to reassure Mark that there was nothing wrong with him.

You felt so ashamed of yourself suddenly. You simultaneously wished that your pitiful words had never gotten back to Dejun and that somehow he had figured your true feelings out, so you could have been freed from this choking weight on your chest.

Since when were you so goddamn selfish?

Once it was your turn to order - it was too soon, way too soon -, you asked for a matcha latte and two slices of chocolate cake, then paid with your card and reassured the barista that his coworker didn’t have to carry your tray to your table, you were more than happy to wait for it by the counter while he took the next customer’s order. If he wanted to look at you funny because of your strange request, he did his best to conceal his thoughts. He simply informed the female barista behind his back about your instructions and turned to the next customer.

Mark said thanks for the sweet treat when you eventually placed the chocolate cake between his drink and notebook and teasingly promised to buy you something equally high in sugar the next time you two met up as he reached out for the tiny, metal fork. He didn’t bring up the soulmate topic for the rest of your supposed brainstorming session despite how it should have been the main subject of your meeting. Instead, he shared random stories with you about Haechan, and how his weird friend was competing for Renjun’s attention these days with a dude called Yuchan - his own partner for the same project you two were working on.

‘He likes Renjun a lot, doesn’t he?’ You asked, more as a mindless statement to show some interest in the topic than anything else.

The boy simply hummed in response, his knowing smile barely hiding in the corner of his mouth as he turned back to his notebook and jotted down a couple of new lines and potential rhymes while you were busy finishing your dessert.

Your afternoon ended up being pretty productive in the end, and the additional two pages you wrote later that night only added to the satisfaction you felt as you got ready for bed.

You didn’t pay any mind to them initially. In fact, you hardly noticed the slight changes in your own body language and the slowly decreasing distance between your bodies whenever you spend some one on one time with Mark outside of your shared class. However, your obliviousness didn’t change the fact that your meetups were getting longer and longer, or that your conversations became more and more diverse.

The first time you heard people talk about your “dates” with the boy, you were at the popular organic coffee shop on campus with Yuju, who immediately pulled you towards a different table when she realised what was going on.

Rumours. There were rumours about you cheating on Dejun with Mark Lee.

Your hands were shaking the whole time you were waiting for your food and drink, and when you finally got them, you tugged on your best friend’s sleeve to plead with her, so she would ask the barista on your behalf to change your order into take away. You didn’t want to spend your free period in public anymore. On the other hand, you also couldn’t make yourself speak up, too ashamed for inconveniencing the poor worker.

You didn’t go to your last class that day. You didn’t even leave your dorm room until Dejun sent you a text that he was waiting for you in the communal area.

Your messy bed hair and your loose sweatpants and hoodie combo had never resembled your mood more than at that moment you dragged yourself to the lounge, towards the khaki couch your boyfriend was sitting on, patiently waiting.

The major part of your anxiety rooted in your belief that your actions and conscious decisions had finally made Dejun see that you were a horrible soulmate. And while you did have your doubts about the whole system and how compatible these magical bonds truly were, the idea of losing your destined partner so early into your life was terrifying.

You were terrified of failing that one person in the world whose life you were supposed to fill with nothing but happiness.

‘It’s okay, love. Come here,’ was the first thing that left the boy’s mouth, and your eyes got a little teary upon seeing his arms spread wide open for you. Like always, he made sure you knew that you could find peace in his embrace if that was what you needed.

You crushed into Dejun’s body without hesitation, and he scooped you up in his arms, letting you get comfortable on his lap despite those students nearby who were not-so-subtly looking at you. You didn’t even notice them, too occupied by holding onto your boyfriend’s tee and hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

‘I’m so sorry. I… I’m so, so, so sorry,’ you apologised over and over again, until your throat got dry and your voice a little husky.

Meanwhile, Dejun kept petting your hair and stroking your back gently with his other hand that didn’t help with your balance.

‘It’s okay. I know you. I know you would never do anything like that,’ he whispered in your ears, reassuring you that he didn’t believe any of those nasty stories that were circulating on campus about you and Mark Lee, and that he would never give you any ultimatums, either, because you were free to make friends regardless of their gender.

Until Mark treated you with respect and didn’t cross your boundaries, he was okay with the guy. Especially because neither of you had ever given him any reasons to suspect you of cheating. You never failed to inform your boyfriend about your meetings in spite of them being regular occurrences, and that one time he had met Mark in front of your lecture hall, the boy had told him he was okay with the two of you going on an impromptu date instead of your scheduled study session if that had been Dejun’s reason for waiting for you. Mark Lee hadn’t thrown a tantrum, he hadn’t tried to make you choose or outright guilt-trip you into staying with him.

He had simply introduced himself and wished you a good time.

‘But the…’

‘Not buts. These people are just bored out of their mind. I’m telling you it’s okay. So believe me, please, when I say these rumours don’t change anything for me,’ he kept coaxing you out of that dark place your mind had pushed you into, starting to rock you back and forth as much as he could in your less than ideal position on the couch.

You didn’t know how long it took him to make you stop blaming yourself for the current situation, and you had no idea how many people witnessed or recorded this intimate moment between you two, but it didn’t really matter in that soft, fluffy bubble Dejun’s love and care created for you to heal in.

You felt safe and secure in your relationship.

Pulling a little further from his shoulder and looking him in the eyes, you had absolutely no doubt about it that he meant every word: both about his feelings for you and about your friendship with Mark.

‘I…’ you choked on your words, unable to express yourself the way you wanted to due to the sudden guilt that washed over you when you realised you couldn’t tell him you loved him, even though a part of you knew you did. You loved Dejun, but saying it out loud felt wrong, almost like a white lie that could break your relationship over time. And you hated how damn frustrated your own incapabilities made you feel.

Because you loved your boyfriend.

You just weren’t sure your love had the same weight his had for you.

‘I’m so grateful for you. I really am,’ you said at the end, slowly lifting your hands to his cheeks and cupping his face. As you were caressing his skin with your thumbs, you wished your eyes could convey just how honest you were at that moment; you wished he knew you loved him in your own way, you were simply too insecure about your feelings in comparison to his.

He gave you too much.

‘I know,’ Dejun gifted you a brilliant smile, before he mimicked your actions and cupped your face, so that he could pull you closer for an innocent peck on the lips. It was lovely, he was lovely, hence naturally, you couldn’t have helped yourself but mirror his pleased grin, your heart lighter and not at the very same time.

It was confusing, this whole soulmate bond you shared, but you decided to not ponder over the torrent inside you, but be happy that you still had this amazing person in your life.

You stayed in the lounge for a little longer, your face buried in the junction between Dejun’s neck and shoulder, then let yourself be convinced to change into less cosy clothes, because apparently, your boyfriend had hoped to take you out on a date once your situation had been sorted out.

Even though it was a program for only the two of you, you didn’t find the power in yourself to cancel his plans. Tagging along was the least you could do for him after he had proven you his unfaltering support.

You didn’t have huge expectations for how the rest of your afternoon would go. Since you had an inkling that it was Yuju who had informed your boyfriend about how upset you were about the rumours, you were kind of certain he was aware that you had never gotten to eat your late lunch after your European Literature lecture around two. Therefore, you accepted that he would feed you as an act of kindness and genuine care for you, and pushed down the knot in your throat that took away your appetite.

Walking up to an empty table at your favourite hamburger place - which was a comfortable, ten-minute walk from your dormitory -, the last thing you could have imagined to see was Mark Lee being berated in public by a pretty brunette you had only ever seen pictures of. Your slow steps came to an immediate halt and your eyes widened in horror when the furious girl abruptly stood up from her chain and reached out for the milkshake her boyfriend was anxiously playing with.

‘Shut the hell up, I’m not doing that. We’re not doing that, you asshole,’ she screamed in his face, and was clearly about to do something drastic when one of the waiters marched up to their table and grabbed the girl’s wrist.

You could feel Dejun’s fingers being wrapped around your own, too, before he gently pulled you towards an empty table on the other side of the customer area. You barely registered your feet moving, hyper fixated on Mark’s resigned face and overall emotionless demeanour. You had never seen him so unresponsive. It was as though he felt nothing - no anger, frustration or desperation, no fear - while his girlfriend felt everything on behalf of the both of them.

The longer you were watching them, the more uneasy you felt and at one point, you had to force yourself to tear your gaze away when you felt your boyfriend push you down on a chair with your back to the commotion. 

‘If you want to comfort him, send him a text,’ he suggested, his voice gentle. There wasn’t a hint of accusation in it, like he wasn’t talking about the very guy people on campus claimed was fucking you behind his back. Your lips trembled not only because of how ashamed you felt at that moment, but because you really, truly wanted to be there for Mark, and Dejun had realised it sooner than your mind had caught up on it. ‘I just don’t want you anywhere near that girl. Especially right now.’

You pursed your lips together and nodded, understanding where he was coming from while you were simultaneously grateful for the reminder of how bad it could have ended if you had given in to your urge to walk up to the couple. You hated public attention - you couldn’t have been able to handle the negative spotlight.

‘I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you,’ you said and reached out for the laminated menu card in the middle of the table despite how familiar both of you were with each item on it. It was more of a way of stalling, of putting yourself back together than anything else.

You didn’t want any of the waiters to come up to you and take your order. You didn’t want any attention on you, no matter how miniscule, until Haeri was still in the same building. You were scared of her anger and just how justified it might have felt if she had blamed you for their relationship troubles.

Dejun reached out for your hand tentatively and stroked your sensitive skin between the base of your thumb and index finger in a calming manner before he started to chat your ears off about the hamburger he wanted to try. Apparently, there were three new items on the menu that you hadn’t even noticed, one of them a burger with two patties, tomato and pickle slices, blueberry jam and various spices you would have never thought of mixing together, but hell if it hadn’t sounded intriguing.

Thus you decided to order a similar one with strawberry jam and caramelised onion rings and refused to think about Haeri, Mark Lee and any of the stupid rumours that might have led to their fight.  

You told yourself you had to set your priorities straight.

You told yourself contacting Mark could have waited an hour or so. Because it could. It had to. You had no justifiable reason to put him before your own relationship.

Except, when you eventually got down to message him, Mark left your first text on read and didn’t open any of the following ones. A nasty voice inside of your head told you that he was reading them through his notifications, but you couldn’t have been sure, thus you couldn’t decide whether you should have felt annoyed or worried.

On the first night, tossing and turning in your bed, you settled on the latter. However, when he purposely avoided as much as looking at you during your weekly Creative writing slash Lyrics writing seminar, it took everything in you to not look hurt and irritated. On the one hand, you had seen his fight with Haeri, so you understood that you might have been the last person he wanted to be near. On the other hand, you didn’t want to accept that either of you had done anything wrong just because you had become friends.

If you had let yourself believe that what you two had was hurting your soulmate bonds, you would have started to spiral again despite how much time and effort your boyfriend had put into convincing you that everything was alright.

That your connection wasn’t damaged.

So you shook your head and accepted his decision with dignity - albeit, with a heavy heart. It was a soothing gel to your open wounds that at least you had already agreed on the plot for your story and his song. This way, you really didn’t have to force any conversations with him that would have surely spoiled your precious memories with the boy.

As expected, Mark Lee didn’t join you during the second half of your class for your usual, light-hearted brainstorming session, so you busied yourself with a book that you were reading for a different course. Not a second after the bell signalled the end of the seminar, you were walking towards the wooden double doors like a man on a mission.

Your steps didn’t falter: not when you heard Haechan calling your name, nor when he scolded Mark for something you didn’t quite catch and had no interest in anyway.

You were a horrible liar. And a horrible soulmate.

Because while you were determined to convince yourself that Mark’s cold behaviour didn’t bother you at all - it was his loss, wasn’t this what people always said? -, you couldn’t stop thinking about his blank face throughout the rest of the day.

Did this alone make you the worst soulmate in history? Debatable. However, what definitely earned you that title was the fact that you were currently cuddled up with your boyfriend on his couch, watching a silly Chinese movie about high school sweethearts, and you had no idea what the real story was about. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about Mark Lee and the possible end of your friendship.

You hissed, skin burning around your soulmate mark underneath your hoodie’s sleeve. It was Dejun’s hoodie, to be precise, but he always put it on his bed, neatly folded, when he knew you were coming over, so you wouldn’t have to look through his massive wardrobe in search of your comfort clothes. This was how precious your time was to him.

How precious you were to him.

You swallowed down the panicked lump in your throat and deliberately disregarded the pain. You told yourself that it was nothing, that until your boyfriend showed no sign of discomfort, it was only in your head. After all, if your bond had reached its breaking point because of your shameful thoughts, he would have felt it, too.

It was so itchy, though, as though your mark craved your attention and was determined to get it no matter what it took. It was driving you up the wall, and it also made it even harder to concentrate on the movie you were watching.

So at one point, you gave in and excused yourself, heading straight to the bathroom.

‘Do you want me to stop it?’ You could hear your boyfriend’s worried voice, and you gave it a quick thought on your way, concluding that it would have been suspicious if you had acted any differently from how you usually were on these nights, so you took him up on the offer despite having no interest in the movie.

As soon as the bathroom door was closed behind your back, you rolled up your sleeve like a maniac and came face to face with your biggest fear: your soulmate was single. Which could only mean two things - one more terrifying than the other.

You let your arm fall back by your side with a defeated sigh and sat down on the toilet lid, so your legs couldn’t give out at the most inconvenient time possible. You had to start breathing again. There was no way you could have afforded falling apart at Dejun’s place after you had single-handedly undermined your shared future.

Pulling on your hair out of frustration, you almost let out an unhinged laughter as you were contemplating which one would have been worse: you losing your soulmate because of a new friendship that might not have existed anymore, or you wasting both Dejun’s and your time in a relationship that was built on a false sense of belonging.

Could it have been a cruel joke that your soulmate marks had changed at the same moment, just when you had agreed to be his girlfriend? Seriously, what were the changes? How many other couples could have been out there, oblivious to the fact that they weren’t meant to be? You had gotten lucky with Dejun, his gentle and caring nature always wanting the best for you, but what about those people who were convinced that they were with the right person while being abused by their own partner?

Your head in the gutter, you couldn’t stop thinking about how much more sense this error in the system made when you were recalling stories about domestic violence, cheaters and financial abuse. God, you felt so stupid. You felt so damn angry.

Why was no one talking about the existence of mismatches? Why were they swept under the rug like they weren’t real?

‘Hey, love! Are you okay in there? Do you need me to bring you some painkillers or a cup of your peppermint tea?’ Dejun’s worried voice filtered through the fog in your mind, your lips trembling because of how amazing this guy was. A gem of a man. He didn’t deserve a shitty fake-soulmate like you.

You choked on the first sob that escaped your throat.

‘Jun…’ you cried, drowning in the crazy mixture of your emotions, unsure which ones were appropriate to begin with and which ones you should have focused on in the first place. You didn’t want to lose Dejun: this one thing you were sure about. However, the ugly realisation that it was more because of the stability he gave you than the love you felt for him filled you with instant disgust.

You were shaking as the world around you slowly fell apart.

‘Can I come in?’ You didn’t respond, but you didn’t have to, because the next thing you heard was your boyfriend warning you in a slightly louder voice: ‘I’m coming in!’

Your body tensed up and relaxed simultaneously when Dejun scooped you up and pulled you against his chest, so he could rest your head in the crook of his neck and caress your back like his touch could brush aside all your distress.

‘It’s okay, everything is okay,’ he repeated over and over, holding you a little tighter once you showed a sign that you were there with him despite your silence. ‘Whatever happened, I’m here for you. I’m here for you.’

‘But you won’t be…’ you objected even though you didn’t truly believe that he would pack his things and leave the moment he realised you weren’t the right person for him. He was just too kind to do something so cruel, especially when you were clearly having a breakdown. If anything, you could have bet on it that he would make sure you were in the right state of mind before he cut you out of his life. Yeah, you had little doubt about that: he would have tried to put you back together before he left.

However, at the end of the day, facts remained facts. He wouldn’t be here for you for much longer and not many things were quite okay, either.

‘I will be. I’m not leaving you,’ he kept repeating, every time a bit firmer, which pretty much made it impossible for you to break the news to him. This imaginary, ugly, sticky, hairy lump in your throat just got bigger and bigger.

So you gave yourself a pitiful moment to bask in the warmth of Dejun, the comfort he never failed to provide you, then slowly pulled away from his chest and rolled up your sleeve. You couldn’t take your eyes off the slightly red skin around your new soulmate mark, which was the less painful sight anyway.

The look on Dejun’s face when the realisation hit him? You could barely steal a glance at it while your gaze loitered over his tense body and hasty movements as he checked his own mark, but it already broke your heart.

‘We are…’ your boyfriend - was he still your boyfriend? - tentatively took your arm into his hand, then brushed his thumb over the new letters, shaking. It was clear that he had a hard time putting his feelings into words, and you couldn’t blame him. Out of the two of you, you had always thought it was him who loved you more. Thus, his pain must have been ten times worse than yours and you were already over at least one mental breakdown.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ you repeated like a broken record, because you genuinely didn’t know how else to express the guilt that weighed down on you even though logically speaking it was neither of your fault. You had agreed to become official, your tattoos had changed, it had worked just like in the textbooks.

Why would anyone have questioned the validity of your bond? You had never been taught about the precautions you should have made. Up until this moment, you didn’t even know it was possible to end up with someone who wasn’t your soulmate.

This whole situation made your head hurt and sucked the energy out of your limbs.

The heavier the silence became, the gloomier the atmosphere got, but you were too drained to figure out how to fix it, so you let Dejun process the unbelievable at his own speed, letting him caress your skin as if his strokes could have erased or re-written the black lines under your skin.

They couldn’t. But they did ease some of the tension in your muscles after a while.

You started to wear long-sleeved clothes and nude covers after that tear-filled night to avoid another wave of nasty rumours around campus about you and your relationship with Dejun. The two of you had decided to talk about your future once you calmed down properly and let yourselves think through your options without jumping to conclusions. As far as Dejun knew the two of you worked well together, so it was understandable why he didn’t want to rush the break-up. On the other hand, your rational side and your heart saw the current situation as the perfect opportunity to start an internal war.

Your life was definitely enviable with Dejun, so you could see the appeal of staying with him for a very long time, building a home together and maybe even starting a family, because you had no doubt about it that he would be a wonderful husband and a wonderful father, but… It finally made sense: why a part of you always missed that something special people liked to brag about when they were talking about their significant other.

Fortunately, the deadlines of your semester projects and lengthy assignments slowly arrived, along with your upcoming exam week, so you were too busy to think about any of the drama in your personal life. Mark Lee ghosting you without any heads up? Who could care about that when they had a six-pages-long essay to finish on the political influence of French literacy? Dejun checking on you every morning, lunch break and evening while also refusing to meet you face to face? Nah, the importance of the founding of Hangul with hundreds of Chinese characters to memorise had to be your top priority.

You couldn’t lose both your boyfriend and your scholarship in the same semester. You had to focus on your education. You also needed to finish the first draft of your thesis by the end of the week.

Letting out a tired sigh, you took a sip from your lukewarm coffee latte and shifted your gaze from your notes to the person in front of the professor’s stand. Renjun was talking about the story he and Yuchan had come up with for this class, yet, if anyone had asked you what was their final topic, you couldn’t have answered beyond the very basics: that just like everyone else, they had built their project around the soulmate system.

God, you couldn’t have waited to be done with this shit for good.

‘Thank you, Yuchan, Renjun,’ the two professors clapped their hands modestly after their constructive feedback, then jotted down a few more comments on their papers and called for the next group.

Your duo with Mark Lee.

Since you hadn’t talked with the boy in a while, you weren’t exactly sure what to expect of your presentation; however, you had done your homework and prepared a neat PPT about your concept, so it should have been okay.

Except, when you walked in front of the class, in front of the stand where Mark was already waiting for you with his guitar in his hand, your brain went blank. He looked… different yet so damn familiar, it was messing with your head.

‘Okay, which one of you would like to start?’ The Lyrics writing professor asked, his curious eyes wandering from you to his own student as he leaned back against his seat comfortably.

You gulped and quickly shook yourself out of your stupor, but before you could have raised your hand or blurted out a timid “Me!”, Mark beat you to it and pulled a chair in front of the professor’s stand, so he could play the guitar with more ease.

You stepped a bit further from him to give him space - you also appreciated the invisibility that came with your decisions, the other students’ attention laser focused on the boy -, and linked your arms under your boobs, pressing your notes against your chest. Due to his sudden silent treatment, you hadn’t had the chance to hear any snippets of the melody in advance, but it didn’t surprise you how soft the short intro had come out to be. 

It sounded beautiful, in a very bittersweet, heart-churning way.

It was the perfect OST for your short story.

Towards the second verse, when he was singing about the oblivious victims of a system that should have only brought them happiness, your eyes filled with tears to the brim, but you quickly turned away and wiped them harshly, because it really wasn’t the time. You would need to present your story in detail in less than two minutes. Three, if you were lucky.

You didn’t remember the presentation. You couldn’t process any of the constructive feedback you received from your professors. The only thing you were quite sure about, somewhere in the back of your head, was that Mark Lee had led you back to your seat by your elbow, then taken a seat in front of you.

The latter was still a thing: his messy, brown hair in your line of sight while the next duo was talking about their own perspectives with vivid hand-gestures, almost like they were openly arguing in front of everyone. It was weird. You felt weird.

Your eager fingers picked on the edge of the nude plaster you had put on your soulmate mark that morning. Deep down you knew that if you had taken off the cover, nothing would have changed. However, a part of you still hoped that things could go back to how they had used to be.

Did that make you a relationship addict?

Had you developed an unreasonable fear of ending up all alone?

You let out an exasperated sigh. It wasn’t healthy: your thoughts focusing on one thing so restlessly like you were starting to become obsessed with your relationship status, although Dejun had never broken up with you. He was still choosing you despite the palpable distance, putting your well-being first. So why couldn’t you just let it go?

You furrowed your brows when you felt the light vibration of your phone against the small of your back, and you turned your upper body slightly in order to fish it out of your tote bag as it could have been something important. You deliberately silenced the voice inside your head that told you it could be Dejun reaching out to you. For one, he also had a class in this period. For two, he was a meticulous person. He wouldn’t have rushed himself make a decision as important as your future together.

You shook your head, mentally debating whether it would have been a good or bad thing if you had been wrong about your boyfriend’s stance on this whole mess, when your gaze fell on the notification on your screen. It was a kakao message from Mark, asking you to meet up with him after your class. Just a laconic “pls. same place, same time”.

You were ashamed to admit, but you were staring at the message for quite a while before you sent back a hopefully nonchalant “ok” and shoved your phone back into your bag. You had mixed feelings about his sudden interest in you, but it was the day of your presentation, the end of your project, so you might have as well entertained him a little. As far as you were concerned, he wanted to discuss the feedback with you or give you his two cents on the rather bitter ending of your story.

You told yourself it was a writer thing: that you wanted to hear his opinion.

It wasn’t that you were hopeful, and God forbid did it mean that you were hoping that the two of you could still be friends.

By the time your shared class ended, you were half-convinced, though. And you also had this baseless confidence that despite your nerves, you appeared to be nonchalant. Whether that was true or not, it didn’t really matter. The belief alone gave you enough strength to not walk a step behind Mark Lee while the two of you were heading towards the coffee shop you had used to frequent at.

You were walking side by side as if everything was alright.

As an introvert, you would have never thought that ordering your drink from a trainee barista you had never seen before could be the least stressful part of your meet-up with someone you had once considered your friend, but as soon as you took a seat and Mark did the same across from you, the silence turned unbearable. It made your palms clammy, your heart rate unstable and your stomach upset with the whole situation. At one point, you were genuinely afraid that the new employee had messed up your order and you would shit yourself on campus because of a few sips of fresh milk, like that was even possible.

You weren’t even lactose-intolerant. You simply preferred drinking plant-based milk, like oat and almond milk, when you had that option because of your acne-prone skin.

‘I broke up with Haeri,’ was the first thing that left the boy’s mouth, and it pretty much made it impossible for you to form any coherent sentence.

Mark had broken his bond with his soulmate - and there was a big possibility that he had been pushed to do so because of the rumours your friendship had started. You felt sick to your stomach. You had no idea what to say, whether to comfort him or give him advice. Whether you were even qualified to act as a relationship expert when yours was hanging on by a thin thread.

You refused to take your eyes off your drink, your quiet reaction no more than a soft hum. You wished Mark would have told you what he had expected from this conversation. If he had wanted to reconcile or simply inform you about his break-up before the two of you went on separate ways.

The carrot cake you ordered was way too sweet. You frowned once you swallowed down the first bite.

‘Both of our soulmate marks stayed the same, though…’ he added after a bit of hesitation, like he was carefully looking for the words to explain the situation. ‘Which means our real soulmates are… yeah. Still in relationships.’

Eyes wide like saucers, you looked at Mark in bewilderment. So Dejun and you weren’t the only ones. (Of course, you weren’t the only ones, that part had never been a question!) God, if it hadn’t felt unreal to know someone who was going through the same experience! What were the chances?

‘Dejun is not my soulmate,’ you blurted out without any regard for those who were sitting at the table next to yours or checking if anyone was listening in on your conversation. Maybe, it wasn’t the wisest idea to discuss something so raw and intimate in a public space; however, at that moment these concerns barely crossed your mind.

You accidentally found someone who could fully understand your current fears and struggles without being involved in the situation itself. Someone who had enough insight to support you without the need to shelter his own heart, thus distance himself from you. That was… you were right, and he finally decided to stop ghosting you in the first place.

‘Oh…’ Mark acknowledged your confession with a disappointed little sound, his lips jutting out while he stole a quick glance at the soulmate mark on his wrist.

Your surprise was genuine when you realised that unlike you, he was wearing his unchanged tattoo on his skin with confidence. But you figured, it was different when most people around him still thought he was happy and very much together with Haeri.

He would have had more questions to answer if he had suddenly started to cover up the proof of their love.

‘Do you think the profs liked our take on the topic?’ You asked when the silence became too long, and Mark showed no sign of adding anything more to your discussion. You took a small yet determined bite from your cake. It was still overly sweet, but you would be damned if you had let it go to waste for the money you had spent on it. ‘I kind of… zoned out when they were giving us feedback.’

The corner of Mark’s lips twitched, but he tried his best to swallow back his giggles. He even went as far as reaching out for his drink, so he could occupy himself in a somewhat subtle way.

He was painfully obvious. Still, you appreciated the gesture almost as much - if not more - as his willingness to go along with your lame attempt at changing the topic.

Two hours and a half had never flown by so fast, so easily.

Your life took on a new norm after your final exams.

For once, you moved back to Ansan for the school break (partly) to save some money on savoury fast food and unnecessarily yet aesthetic coffee dates that you liked to take yourself on. It was also less stressful to work on your thesis in the comfort of your childhood home, your dad never the one to skip out on serving you freshly cut, peeled fruit slices to boost your brain. Naturally, the closeness of your family was a real remedy for your troubled soul.

Meanwhile, Mark Lee took it upon himself to keep you updated on the city life and got into a never-ending conversation with you on instagram and kakao, his random questions and lyrics snippers seldom preceded by any hellos or his. Long story short, he took the whole “never making you feel ghosted or left out again” very seriously, even though you had reassured him on multiple occasions that you didn’t have to know everything about his days. Once he had started, there had been no turning back.

He kept your mind constantly occupied - that was your only excuse for forgetting about your relationship troubles with Dejun and not realising just how unhealthy and dependent it was to keep sending your boyfriend the same three messages each and every day: a curt good night, a somewhat more lively good morning and a repeated promise that you were taking good care of yourself despite your tendency to skip meals when they weren’t pre-made.

So imagine your surprise when Mark absent-mindedly asked you during one of your chill video calls whether you were still in a relationship despite your new soulmate mark, and the answer didn’t come to you as naturally as it was supposed to. Sure, Dejun wasn’t your one and only whom the universe had sent especially to you, and it had been over a month since you had seen his face, but he had promised you that… 

You still referred to him as your boyfriend in your head!

Not to mention that he would have told you if he had made up his mind, if he had wanted to put an end to your relationship and stay in your life only as a friend. Because he would have wanted to stay in your life, wouldn’t he? He had said he wasn’t leaving you, he just needed some time to digest the undeniable: that your soulmate was suddenly single, but the two of you had never broken up.

You had never broken up. You still hadn’t broken up.

Right?

‘I think so?’ You semi-asked, semi-claimed while you were picking on your nails, resisting the urge to pick up the fantasy book you had carefully put on your bedside table when Mark had called you. It was difficult to look into your front camera, so you kept your gaze on your hands.

‘You think so?’ The boy asked back, clearly taken aback by your answer.

You huffed, annoyed at him for no reason. 

Hell. Maybe it was yourself you were truly frustrated with. Had you even made the smallest attempt at fixing your relationship with Dejun? You were just waiting on him as though the ball was on his court now when in reality, you had never made the first move.

It was comfortable, way too comfortable, that you didn’t have to deal with the situation head on since Dejun wasn’t around. Because he “needed space”. When had been the last time you had checked on how he was doing? A good girlfriend would have been more worried about his well-being.

You gulped as a sudden wave of guilt washed over you.

‘I didn’t…’ you let out another strained sigh, your cheeks burning due to embarrassment, although you were fairly confident that Mark wouldn’t have judged you for what you were about to say. ‘I haven’t seen him in a while, and I never really asked him how he feels about us or… how he feels.’

‘Oh…’

‘It sounds horrible,’ you murmured under your nose, willing yourself to glance at the screen of your phone, so you could see Mark’s face. You had to look him in the eye to decipher how he felt about your actions, because his silence wasn’t easy to read. Was he disappointed? Did he think you were a bad person?

Somehow, the first option was scarier.

‘I’m not gonna lie, man, it does sound like you’re delaying the inevitable because it’s easy to not be the “bad guy” who breaks his heart, but…’

‘But?’ You interjected a little desperately as you were hoping that there would come a part in which you didn’t sound as selfish as you did in his analysis. Surely, you weren’t keeping your boyfriend in your relationship because it was convenient or because you were a coward who couldn’t put an end to your suffering.

You swallowed back a groan. You were being ridiculous, comparing whatever you two had to real agony. 

‘You’re not a horrible person. I know you, you were talking about yourself and not this whole thing when you said that, so yeah. Don’t think about yourself that way, because it’s not true,’ he confirmed a second time, sending you a tight-lipped smile through the camera before he turned over and made himself more comfortable on his own bed.

You reciprocated the gesture with a smaller albeit grateful smile.

The two of you stayed silent for a while. Mark was humming a song you hadn’t recognized, while you were thinking about how to make things right.

‘Do you think I should meet up with him? Talk things through? Break up with him?’ You asked, but the more you spoke, the clearer it became that these were exactly the things you had to do, so you weren’t actually surprised when instead of giving you a direct answer, Mark gifted you a proud smile and asked you about your thesis.

He was so unsubtle whenever he made an attempt at diverting the topic, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you found it quite adorable.

‘Actually! I might be able to wrap-up my analysis this week. It depends on whether or not my period gets in the way on the weekend,’ you bragged, genuinely proud of your progress that was only possible because you loved the topic you were researching: the differences between the storytelling of theatre plays and movies written for the silver screen.

‘Cool,’ Mark smiled at you, his teeth on full display. ‘Don’t push yourself too hard, though. You still have a lot of time until the deadline,’ he reminded you immediately, which gave you the perfect opportunity to tease him about his over-protectiveness and his own progress.

You didn’t think about Dejun for the rest of your call, but that also served as another reminder that it was time you started to be honest with him and yourself. Your issues hadn’t started with the change of your soulmate mark. They hadn’t even been brought upon you by the rumours that were still circulating around campus.

They had been there from the very beginning, in your heart, in the way you had always felt the need to invite your friend to your dates with Dejun, in your mild anxiety when the two of you were together without someone else keeping your boyfriend’s attention off of you.

You might have loved Dejun, you still did. However, you had never been in love with him, you could see it now clearly: the subtle yet undeniable difference between these two feelings. God, it was time, wasn’t it? That you finally set him free.

You went back to the capital city the next Saturday, because that was the first afternoon when neither did Dejun have an eight-hour-shift prior, nor were you in constant pain that made you feel easily irritable. One would have thought that one of these conditions would make THE TALK that much easier, but nothing could spare you the heartbreak.

In hindsight, you were grateful to the boy for allowing you - and suggesting - to have this conversation at his own place instead of in the uni dorm or at a public coffee shop, because you were shamelessly ugly crying while you were talking about your doubts and insecurities you had never mentioned to him while you two had been together. It was hard, seeing the hurt in his eyes. It was harder, when despite everything, he still tried to comfort you on his couch, but you did feel a little lighter by the time you two said your goodbyes.

Feeling melancholic, you blinked away another stubborn tear while looking up at the ceiling, then muffled a broken sob that threatened to escape your throat. You were in public now, trying to mend your heart with your favourite blueberry milkshake - and a slice of chocolate cake -, so you really couldn’t have afforded to break down again. That would have done no good to anyone involved; you got exhausted from the mere thought of more drama.

‘Here,’ you heard a familiar voice coming from across the table and something heavy being placed on the metal furniture. Confused, you let your head fall forwards and stared at the new glass of untouched blueberry milkshake in front of you. ‘This one is on me,’ Mark Lee said, not showing any signs of willingness to sit with you - nor to leave you be.

You pressed your lips into a thin line.

‘What are you doing here?’ You asked, because it was easier than saying thank you. Still, you made sure Mark knew you wouldn’t have minded if he stayed by not-so-subtly dragging your gaze from his face to the empty chair at your table, repeating the movement as many times as he needed to see it to understand.

Mark scoffed, more amused than anything, then took a seat.

‘You told me you were about to meet Dejun like…’ he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. ‘Four hours ago. Then, you went complete radio silence,’ he explained, making you frown. Had it been really that long since you had gotten off the bus near your ex-boyfriend’s place? ‘I was worried about you.’

It still didn’t explain how he had known where to find you when it wasn’t your usual coffee shop on campus, but you figured, you must have mentioned this particular milkshake shop to him enough times for him to draw the right conclusion. It was touching, that he paid so much attention quietly, and just knew when you needed someone’s silent support.

Albeit still only halfway through your first drink, you reached out for the free milkshake and pulled it closer to yourself with a grateful smile.

‘Thanks,’ you exclaimed with a bit more enthusiasm, although your liveliness soon deflated as you didn’t know how to start a light-hearted conversation. You didn’t necessarily want to talk about your mental breakdown in your ex-boyfriend’s living room, still embarrassed about the fact that you had needed to be comforted by the same person you had been deliberately breaking up with.

‘So…’ Mark broke the silence once you finished your first shake as though he wanted you to enjoy every drop of it before he dropped a bomb on you in public. You weren’t sure if his consideration had made any difference, but it was undoubtedly nice to not choke on your drink, so you decided to be grateful. ‘How did it go? Are you two singles again?’

Your first instinct was to hide your soulmate mark from him, which was stupid and irrational, but you guessed that was how instincts were. Your brain didn’t have much say in the process, overwhelmed by your inner need to protect yourself. Like Mark would have ever hurt you. Like your tattoo would have been affected by your recent break-up when its curves and lines had never had any connection to Dejun.

Slowly, you took your hand off your wrist and shrugged.

‘I guess so. I mean… His soulmate is still in a relationship, but… We both acknowledged verbally that we are no longer together, so somewhere in the world, his person also got a new tattoo and…’ you rambled, going on strong about the terrifying possibility that his soulmate - his real soulmate - might have also just realised that she had been in a fake “we’re meant to be” relationship this whole time.

The butterfly effect had never sounded so real and frightening - like a divine punishment that reached hundreds of thousands of innocent people just because once upon a time, two had made a silly mistake.

Someone took your hand. Mark took your hand, and only then you realised that you were trembling slightly. With anxiety? With frustration? Anger? You weren’t sure. Maybe, with a mixture of all three and more.

‘Take a deep breath,’ he instructed you gently, rubbing tentative circles into your skin, on the back of your hand that actually helped a lot more than you would have thought. ‘I know it feels like that right now, but not every relationship is as messed up as you think. Sure, there are people out there like us, like Dejun and Haeri, but there are others, too, who found their person and are happy,’ he said in a quiet voice, holding onto you the whole time.

You wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him how messed up the world was, but was there anything new you could have said to him? Mark was right, he had gone through something similar with his own ex. He knew.

Yet, he sounded almost hopeful. As though he still believed in his bond with his real love, his real partner for life. In the embodiment of the other half of his soul.

You scoffed and turned your head away, but didn’t take your hand out of his hold.

‘I’d like to show you something,’ he tried to ease you back into the conversation, squeezing your fingers lightly to get your attention, which you gave to him without much coaxing. He gifted you a brilliant smile in return.

Mark let go of your hand soon after, so that he could roll up his hoodie’s sleeve and show you his inked wrist.

Single.

His soulmate was single.

‘It changed not long after your last message. Maybe an hour, an hour and a half into your meet-up,’ he confessed, simultaneously shocking and rendering your brain. Was he trying to tell you that he was…

You yanked your hand out of his and stood up abruptly.

‘I’m sorry but… I really can’t do this now. I’m sorry,’ you apologised while you gathered all of your stuff and bolted out of the milkshake place as fast as an olympic athlete.

You weren’t dense. And despite those mistakes you had undoubtedly made during your first relationship, the insecurities and uncertainty each and every one of them had brought into your life, you could see the logic behind Mark’s reasoning. You could see the potential of the two of you becoming more than friends in the future regardless of your differences, because at the end of the day, he made you feel balance and peace.

However, your first-hand experience with misleading hints and mistaken bonds held you back from accepting his theory with open arms. For one, there could have been dozens of other people out there who had gotten single in that time frame he had mentioned. It didn’t matter to your brain that your tattoo had also changed after his fight with Haeri, which should have been suspicious. For two, you weren’t in love with Mark. Sure, you liked the guy, you might have gone as far as to say you felt connected to him on your good days, but was that enough to risk being tricked by destiny for a second time?

Your heart was still tender, and you told this much to Mark who reassured you that he hadn’t intended to come off that strong. He liked you as a person, and more than wanting to be your boyfriend, he wanted to be someone you felt comfortable around, so he was fine staying just your friend. A close friend, but a friend nevertheless.

His words gave you a reason to resist your urge to shut him out. Naturally, you needed a few days to respond to his triple texts and worried voice notes, but once you convinced yourself that meeting him face to face wouldn’t end up in a disaster, your friendship healed itself on its own.

So it didn’t feel rushed when after the new semester began, you started to spend more time in each other’s company than you had done so during your project regardless whether you were working on your schoolwork or enjoying your scarce free time. You justified your decision to meet-up with the boy regularly during your free periods by claiming that Mark brought the best study snacks to your study sessions out of everyone you had ever worked with. He was also a perfectionist, so he understood your need to finish your tasks in advance and never disturbed you when you were writing your assignments. He was… just right, in every sense of the word.

He fitted in your life so seamlessly, without taking you away from your family, Yuju or your other, less present friends, it was insane. Yet, whenever your heart tried to tear down the wall that you had deliberately built between the two of you, your mind hesitated.

It was too early. It was too soon.

And then, it was already time for the annual New Year’s party in your dorm. Time was such a weird, human-made construct.

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ You could hear Yuju’s concerned voice when you reached out for one of the shot glasses in the middle of the communal kitchen table, the amateurly mixed brandy-soda-coke combo promising nothing good after your second can of cheap beer. Most of the time, you weren’t a big drinker. Not to mention that you hadn’t been to any social gatherings since the semester kick off party way back in February, long before most students had learned your name around campus. However, this time, you had an acceptable reason to put your limits to the test.

After all, it hadn’t been ten minutes since your best friend had asked for your blessing as apparently, she and Dejun had gotten closer after your break-up in August and started to develop feelings for each other along the way. Obviously, Yuju had made sure you knew she would have turned down the guy if any possibility of them working out despite the odds had hurt you, but should your opinion have mattered that much?

Dejun and you had already been history. And while you appreciated Yuju’s thoughtfulness, it made you feel a tad troubled: that a part of her might have seriously considered it as an option that you wouldn’t have been able to put her happiness first.

That aside, you obviously weren’t unaffected by the revelation. You couldn’t put your finger on how they were so ready to give a try to a future together when their real soulmates were out there somewhere, completely unaware of their decision to settle down with someone else. With a person who shouldn’t have felt perfect, right or a complementary part of their life. How could Dejun - of ALL people - be so unafraid when you were terrified to let Mark in?

As another wave of realisation hit you in the face, and you once again learned something new about yourself and your feelings, you sent a bittersweet yet reassuring smile in your friend’s way and lifted your drink a little higher.

‘It’s the last day of the year. If I’m about to make mistakes, there’s no better time for it,’ you reasoned, finding it absolutely hilarious how uncharacteristic you sounded even to your own ears. ‘It’s not because of you guys, I promise, it’s not,’ you added, though, almost as an afterthought, because the concern in Yuju’s eyes didn’t seem to fade, and you didn’t want her to give up on a happy relationship due to something you had to deal with on your own.

It took Yuju an eye-killing staring contest to not question your sincerity, but she did give you a semi-convinced nod after she had lost, so you were able to join the group shot. You could even have a second round before she pointed at something behind your back and informed you that Mark Lee was clearly elbowing his way through the crowd to get to you.

Just the person you wanted to see! How did he even know on which floor you were when the dorm had six floors, each one of them filled with students partying for a different genre of music?

Your heart skipped a silly beat when your fuzzy mind came up with the idea that Mark Lee was going through floor after floor just to find you. Then, it sped up again as you imagined him knowing you well enough to be aware of where you would be hiding from him. (If you had been really hiding from him, which you obviously didn’t do and would have never admitted doing so, anyway.)

‘So it’s the 2000s’ Disney classics now, hah?’ He greeted you with a cheeky smile, his brown orbs twinkling with amusement and a pinch of mischief - two things you tried to shut out as much as possible. Dealing with his stupid grin was already challenging enough, you didn’t need more.

‘Everyone loves High School Musical,’ you retorted, although you both knew these kinds of songs weren’t high on your preference list. In fact, you could have been found listening to drama and anime OSTs sooner than any of these western classics.

Luckily, Mark was wise enough to not call you out on your bullshit for the second time under one minute.

‘Hey, Mark! Can you make sure she doesn’t drink too much, at least, not unsupervised? The second floor has, apparently, a few legendary ballads in their karaoke machine, and I want to get there before Dejun is up,’ Yuju explained before she turned towards you and cupped your cheeks with her hands. Your pout was genuine and sulky, not because she was about to check on her soon-to-be-boyfriend or because said boyfriend-to-be was your ex, but because she was about to ditch you and consequently leave you alone with your supposed-to-be soulmate. You whined as you held onto her sleeve. ‘I’ll be back in an hour. Be good,’ she reassured you right before she peeled your fingers off her clothes and left.

Your lips trembled in distress as your head fell forwards and your shoulders sagged.

You barely flinched when Mark’s palm tentatively touched your blade bone. In fact, the warm breath that accompanied his worried ‘Are you okay?’ had a lot more impact on you when he leaned closer to make sure you could hear him clearly.

As you slowly turned around to face him, you were wondering how it would have felt to just let yourself be and seek comfort in Mark’s closeness. Would he have found it weird if you had buried your face in the crook of his neck? Should you have gone for his chest instead, using it as a pillow and a safe haven?

Why were you still hesitating when you knew he was convinced the two of you were meant to be? Why couldn’t you admit that none of these questions were about him? They were all about you. It was you who couldn’t decide whether hugging him more intimately would have made you feel creeped out. It was you who had a hard time accepting that the only thing you had to do was giving it a try and you could have been more.

So, so much more.

‘Man, do you need some water? Are you about to throw up?’

You had no idea what kind of face you were making, but you must have looked horrible or in pain. Otherwise, Mark wouldn’t have been thinking in such extremes, wouldn’t he?

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. Yet, he gently led you to the sink in the communal kitchen and got you a glass of cool, filtered water just to be sure.

The two of you stood in front of the sink in silence for God knew how long. The songs came and went, some more upbeat than others, some blending into the conversations around you. You kept your gaze on the half-empty glass in your hand, unsure and a tad insecure about too many things to keep count of.

‘Yuju and Dejun like each other,’ you blurted out at the most random moment, without any sign or warning in advance. If anyone had asked - if Mark had asked -, you would have put the blame on those shots you had drunk not that long ago, and a part of you actually believed there was some truth to your excuse. Being tipsy weakened your filters, so the words came out more easily.

Your thoughts were out in the open.

‘I think they will be official soon. Boyfriend and girlfriend,’ you added when your rambling was met with no verbal reaction, then took a forced gulp from your water because it started to feel a little embarrassing: the lack of response, the one-sided conversation.

‘Does it bother you?’ Mark asked eventually, slowly taking the empty glass out of your hand, so he could refill it for you.

‘No… Yes… No, but…’ You were struggling to find the correct words, maybe because your head was a mess, and you were trying to explain everything all at once when it wasn’t that simple. Your thoughts on the situation were complicated since this piece of information was still new to you. You had barely had time to comprehend, let alone accept the drastic change in your best friend and your ex’s relationship.

Mark’s fingers were cold and wet when they sneaked around your wrist and pulled your hand closer. The movement, sharp but gentle, pulled you back to the present.

‘If you still—’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

You didn’t let him finish, cutting him off a bit too loudly, which gained a couple of students’ attention for a brisk moment. Cheeks hot and scarlet red, you felt relieved when you realised that your sudden silence and the overall upbeat atmosphere of the ongoing party made them move on from the awkward situation quite quickly.

You willed your lungs to take in some of the suffocating air while you simultaneously mustered up your courage to place your palm on Mark’s chest to keep him still physically as well. You needed him to listen to everything you wanted to say, otherwise, there was a chance he might have misunderstood the mess in your head that you yourself also had to detangle real time, during your all-over-the-place monologue.

‘Yes, their relationship bothers me, but…’ you started, digging your fingers into Mark’s chest a bit firmer. You bit into your right cheek from the inside quite harshly as you were fighting against your growing frustration. ‘The fact that they are happy together? I know that I can get over that.’

Maybe, it would take a few days. Maybe, it would feel weird to see them together the first couple of times, especially if they held hands or cuddled in front of you, but you were pretty confident this development wouldn’t have hurt your relationship with either of them. And Mark seemed to believe you if his encouraging, almost proud smile was anything to go by.

You nodded to yourself, satisfied with where this conversation was going.

You could do it. In that moment, with alcohol coursing through your veins and Mark Lee smiling down at you like you were invincible, you truly believed that you could accomplish anything.

‘Their relationship bothers me because… Because!’ You were almost there, you could feel the words on the tip of your tongue. ‘They see a future together despite knowing they weren’t meant for each other and… And…’ You gulped, desperate eyes boring deep into Mark’s. ‘And I’m too afraid to be with you and see our tattoos remain the same.’

There it was. 

It hadn’t been that hard, had it?

(It had been.)

You didn’t realise how much energy it had taken you to confess until you were over it and the lack of stress left you with nothing. For a second, you felt numb. Then, your shoulders fell forwards and all you could feel was the tiredness in your bones.

It was a long night - despite the clock still one and a half hours away from midnight - with a lot of interactions you weren’t quite used to. Your social battery could only do so much after dealing with Yuju and now… even with your own feelings for your possible other half.

‘It’s okay. We don’t have to put a label on us until you like me enough to not care even if our marks remain the same,’ Mark reassured you, petting your head like you were some child, although you had to admit that it did feel nice. So you closed your eyes to be able to enjoy it more - with one sense being shut down, the others like touch were bound to get heightened, you supposed -, the goofy smile on your face a clear indication that you were more than just tipsy at that point. ‘Do you wanna go back to your room? I can get Haechan to buy us some ice cream or something,’ the boy offered, making you giggle for no goddamn reason. Still, it was funny, picturing him begging his friend to get you something sweet from 7-eleven when he must have been also partying somewhere in the building.

‘I have potato chips under the bed,’ you announced, willingly tailing Mark after he took your words as an okay sign and started to pull you towards the hallway.

Much to your surprise, the music remained just as overpowering until you reached the third or fourth room, however, Yuju and you lived at the end of the corridor, near the communal shower area, so it was all dandy. Once you were behind closed doors, the party turned into literal background noise.

‘So…’ Mark started, and on any other day, you might have been able to sense his uncertainty about how to act nonchalant in a room where it was only the two of you, but at that moment, all you could concentrate on was how good it felt: the relative silence after people screaming around you for hours while pretending to be singing.

You sat down on the edge of your bed and laid back with a relieved sigh. The mattress was so damn comfortable, you knew it wouldn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

And you might have just blacked out for a second after that thought had hit you, because the next thing you were aware of was a pair of calloused fingertips grazing along your temple. A feather-light weight on your entire body. Someone apologising for the jeans you would need to sleep in and then…

Then, a pair of pillowy lips, chapped and unexpectedly soft, touched the top of your head.

Albeit shocked, you didn’t find the power in you to re-open your eyes.

The next day, you woke up with a massive headache and a sore body that you wholeheartedly blamed on those jeans you were still wearing as though you hadn’t been completely yourself when you had gotten ready for bed.

You couldn’t recall much after Yuju had left you alone with Mark. At least, not until you fell back on your sheets and the phantom caress of two firm, hardworking fingers punched you in the guts.

Shit! You had fallen asleep while Mark had been still in your room. It had been his first time in your safe space and you had blacked out before you could have given him a tour or… Had he tried to talk to you? Had you managed to completely ignore his existence? Ahgrr. He must have felt so uncomfortable.

A mild panic attack started to brew in the pits of your stomach. Consequently, your carnal need to check up on the boy and confirm that nothing had changed between the two of you pushed the symptoms of your hangover in the back of your mind. Like you had never been in physical pain.

You jumped out of bed as quickly as if someone had set the whole furniture on fire. Your eyes were loitering over your interior rapidly, searching for your phone since you honest to God couldn’t have told where you had put it the previous night. Knowing yourself, it could have been anywhere from the back pocket of your jeans to the dusty floor under your desk, hence you proceeded with an open mind.

Just to find it on the pillow you hadn’t even used, plugged into your charger. The thoughtful sight dressed your cheeks in a light shade of coral pink.

Tentatively, you laid back on the sheets and took the slightly warm device in your hands. You used your fingerprint to unlock the phone, then opened your kakao app, because reading only the notifications would have been useless with the amount of unread messages you had.

Your thumb was hovering over the latest text you had received, Mark’s full name greeting you with a guitar and a nerd emoji next to it, but then your gaze fell on your chat with your best friend, and you decided to be more reasonable. Sure, the fact that she clearly wasn’t in your shared room despite her inability to reach you must have meant that she knew you were okay, but still… It was only fair you put her first.

It didn’t matter that you were more curious about those five messages Mark had apparently sent you. 

It also didn’t matter that the sole reason you hadn’t fallen back asleep was your eagerness to clear up any possible misunderstandings with the boy: like him interpreting your behaviour last night as if you couldn’t have cared less about him.

You cared so much about him.

(Too much, maybe. You just sucked at expressing it and were a coward who couldn’t admit these kinds of things even to herself.)

Your smile was brilliant when you skimmed through Yuju’s messages and noticed the visible change in her tone once she had gotten to know that albeit wasted, you were well taken care of. She said Mark had called her as soon as he had tucked you in - his words, not hers -, then reminded you of the first aid kit in her lowest drawer where you could find painkillers in case you were struggling. She also lectured you about drinking too much alcohol, but it was hard to take her words to heart when she wished you a happy new year and promised you to bring home some chicken trio pizza for dinner on her way home.

You sent her a selfie with your thumb up and reassured her that she didn’t have to rush. You could take care of yourself just fine - and you didn’t have any groundbreaking plans for the first day of the year anyway. To be honest, you doubted you would even leave the safety of your room for more than occasional toilet breaks.

Your lazy plans immediately got cancelled, though, when you opened Mark’s messages and saw that he had invited you out for a brunch slash lunch, depending on when you woke up or which one you were more up to.

You didn’t realise how ravenous you were until your eyes fell on the photo he had sent you of the sunny side ups that he had made for breakfast, offering to cook something simple for you in the communal kitchen in case you didn’t feel like going out. (And while you appreciated the thought and were genuinely tempted to spend the whole day on your bed with him, you couldn’t have helped but remember his friends’ teasing, which heavily indicated that he was a horrible cook.)

You asked for an hour to put yourself together and let him decide where you would eat until the restaurant wouldn’t be too crowded and the food wouldn’t be too heavy on your sensitive stomach. Your hangover was no joke. Just thinking of your favourite pizza, you already felt like throwing up again.

Had you even thrown up the previous night? For the life of you, you couldn’t tell.

But it didn’t really matter. Because the moment you stepped outside of your room, you came face to face with Mark Lee, and he gave you that look: the look that said he was happy to see you and might have even thought you were pretty despite the oversized hoodie and leggings combo you were wearing, hair in a messy bun on the top of your head. There was no way he felt grossed out by the sight of you even though he had been the last person who had seen you last night.

You gave him a small, almost bashful smile.

The diner Mark chose was a noodle soup shop near campus that you had never tried before, but you trusted his taste and did not get disappointed when the middle aged ahjumma placed two steaming bowls on your table in the back. The smell was rich, but not overpowering. The taste… The taste was heavenly.

‘Last night was pretty wild, hah? I usually don’t drink that much, by the way. You can take my words on that,’ you stirred up a conversation as soon as the boy’s eyes on each and every movement of yours started to get a tad overwhelming. Not in a bad way, of course. You rarely felt any negative emotions when you were with him; you considered thinking about the boy when he wasn’t around a completely different thing. And even then it was more about your insecurities and fears, never about something he did intentionally.

Gosh, here you were again, casually overthinking like it was your hobby.

‘Were you drinking because of me?’

You froze with your hand in mid-air, noodles slipping through your chopsticks as your grip got weaker due to your shock. The broth splashed on your face the moment they hit the soup, the hot liquid burning your skin a little, though that wasn’t the real reason your cheeks put on a light, pinkish shade.

You hadn’t seen it coming: the almost confrontational turn your conversation had just taken when it was Mark sitting in front of you. It would have been different if it had been Yuju or Mark’s talkative (and lowkey annoying nosy) friend, but… It was Mark!

You were lucky, you hadn’t choked on your meal.

‘I…’ You cleared your throat, unintentionally making the atmosphere heavier. You couldn’t look Mark in the eyes. ‘Maybe?’ You half-admitted as you placed the chopsticks on the edge of your bowl and dropped your hands in your lap with a helpless sigh. You didn’t want to lie. You also didn’t want to talk about your feelings without proper preparation, but clearly, your life wasn’t a wish-granting factory. ‘I also took some shots to celebrate the New Year.’

Mark’s amused giggle was yet another unexpected slap in the face. However, you welcomed it like a caress as it encouraged you to meet his eyes. His happiness didn’t help much with your confusion, but it warmed your heart, so you let it be.

‘Cute,’ he complimented you as soon as he calmed down, his gaze shifting from your scarlet cheeks to your abandoned, wooden cutlery. You knew he wanted to encourage you to pick the chopsticks up again, but you weren’t so sure whether that would have been a good idea. You weren’t in the clear just yet.

In fact, your conversation might have been just about to get tougher if his mischievous eyes were anything to go by.

‘I’m not sure how much you remember from last night, but I understand your feelings. It’s scary for me, too,’ he said with enough nonchalance to make you wonder whether he was panicking under the collected facade. The Mark you knew would have rather let his friends bully him (affectionately) than engage in a fight. He had never been this confrontational, and you weren’t sure how you felt about this development.

Unsure whether he was finished or there was still stuff he wanted to bring up, you remained silent and mentally scolded yourself for even thinking about picking on the skin around the base of your nails.

‘I want, more than anything, to test if you’re it for me, but that’s not why I wanted to meet up with you,’ he eventually blurted out before he took a big mouthful of his noodles, probably to steal a bit more time. You waited, patiently. ‘Please don’t push me away. You don’t have to like me like that. You don’t have to agree to become my girlfriend like ever, man. But please, don’t avoid me.’

His pleading broke something in you, not because of how desperately he was talking or how he felt the need to have this request, but because this had been what you had tried to do the night before, when Yuju had pointed him out in the crowd.

He knew you. He knew your instincts were working against you two, and he was begging you to stay.

To choose him, in whichever way your heart was able to handle your relationship.

‘I’m not gonna do any of those, I promise,’ you mumbled, hoping that you could keep your promise to him, because he was being so tolerant, so patient with you, it was the least you could do.

Just like Dejun, Mark deserved so much better.

But unlike your ex-boyfriend, his presence in your life felt so effortless, so good, a part of you could almost believe that the two of you were…

You bit into your lower lip and shook your head. This wasn’t right. You shouldn’t have given him a chance because of a system that had already screwed you over. Because a sick part of your brain rationalised that the universe knew you better than you knew yourself.

‘I want to give us a try,’ you admitted slowly, choosing your words with utmost care as if one wrongly chosen synonym could have broken your friendship. Like you were still working on one of your most draining assignments for a professor that took points from you for using the same word in two consecutive sentences. ‘But I have one condition.’

Mark didn’t take his eyes off you. He wasn’t blinking, and you weren’t sure he was breathing properly, either, but his complexion looked convincing enough for you to keep going instead of stalling and checking up on him.

‘I don’t want to be your girlfriend.’ The pained look in Mark’s eyes squeezed your organs, and if you had felt a bit more poetic, you would have said, it twisted the knife in your heart, too. So you willed yourself to push through. ‘What I mean is that… I want what Dejun and Yuju have. And since we don’t know whether we are meant to be like how they already know they aren’t… I…’ you were clearly struggling at that point, but you were almost there.

You almost detangled the mess in your own head.

You almost managed to communicate your concerns.

You only needed a little bit more.

‘You want to be with me regardless?’ Mark asked, sounding hopeful and something else, too, something akin to melted butter on your toast.

You nodded, embarrassingly eager to get to the end of this topic and finally be on the same page as the boy.

‘If we don’t agree on being boyfriend-girlfriend, our tattoos won’t change. They’re not gonna spoil it,’ you argued, feeling significantly lighter after the last word fell from your lips, your smile bright and a lot wider than it had been at any moment in the past few days.

And the best part?

Mark Lee was shining like the damned Sun and all the stars in the sky upon hearing your confession. 

‘I can do that! Let’s do that! I want that, to have a chance with you, be with you. Because it does feel right. You. Us. You make me feel all gooey and boom boom inside. You make me feel like all those cringey love songs that secretly everyone likes,’ he rambled, awakening half a dozen long-dead butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

You wondered if this was how falling in love should have felt in the first place. Weren’t you only giving him a chance to see where this would lead the two of you? Were you really, truly, genuinely falling for him already?

Were you in love?

As good as you were with words in most cases, Mark’s rambling quite literally rendered you speechless. You didn’t know what more you were supposed to say without revealing your inner turmoil. After all, you had already admitted that you wanted to give it a try.

If you had been one of your characters, you would have described what you were about to do as cowardly, but at that moment it sounded rather logical (and definitely convenient) to just pick up your chopsticks and dive into your noodle soup. So that was what you did, keeping your eyes on your food while blaming your flaming cheeks on your hot lunch.

You didn’t entertain the topic more than it was strictly necessary, and you didn’t bring it up again when Mark took pity on you and decided to ask about something completely different yet maybe just as important: your plans for after your graduation ceremony next week.

Sadly, you were still struggling with finding a full-time job, but your parents were happy to have you back at home, so at least, you didn’t have to worry about housing or wasting money. You would be fed three times a day for free and have all the time in the world to find out how desperate you were to find a job in your field a.k.a. how much longer you could go without giving in and just taking the first offer that came your way.

‘I don’t want to lower my standards just yet. Maybe… after a month or two,’ you pondered aloud, then took a bigger slurp of your soup just before you asked for Mark’s opinion.

You didn’t call your lunch a date, nor did Mark ask you out on one when he suggested you watched a movie in the cinema on Saturday, but he did walk you all the way back to your door once he paid for the food and held onto your clammy hand during the second half of the elevator ride.

Hence, you assumed you were official. In your own, cautious albeit determined way.

the end.

[fics-lovebot]

fic recs masterlist

Hello!, here I´ll be constantly adding recs to each m.list so make sure to check it out often for new stuff ;) btw, eeeeverything in here I recommend with my eyes closed and would 100% re-read so,, enjoy!

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs, luv you and thank you ♡ ྀི

3rd gen

♡ BTS (soon)- JUNGKOOK PT. 1 - PT. 2

♡ SEVENTEEN - PT. 1 - PT. 2

♡ MONSTA X (soon)

♡ NCT 127 / DREAM / WAY V (soon)

4th gen

♡ ATEEZ -

♡ TXT -

♡ STRAY KIDS (soon)

♡ THE BOYZ (soon)

♡ ENHYPEN - PT. 1 - PT. 2 - PT. 3 - PT. 4 - PT. 5

5th gen

♡ BOYNEXTDOOR (soon)

♡ RIIZE (soon)

♡JUJUTSU KAISEN PT. 1 - PT. 2 - PT. 3

♡ONE PIECE (soon)

♡KIMETSU NO YAIBA (soon)

♡SHINGEKY NO KYOJIN (soon)

[jungwoosshoes]

Seven Of Spades -- Part I

Part 1 ----> Part 2 (Hearts) ---> Part 3 (Clubs) ----> Part 4 (Diamonds)

NCT x Reader Cardverse AU!

Pairing: Nakamoto Yuta, Johnny Suh, Lee Jeno, Xiao Dejun, Kim Jungwoo, Park Jisung, Qian Kun, Lee Ten, and Zhong Chenle x reader ; friend! Yushi x bestie! reader

Warnings: Not many--reader is a witch and kinda poor, there's some political conflict, mentions of sick people

Note: I refuse to use Y/N, so watch me struggle to write around it! <3

Word Count: 1.6k

What is Cardverse? Great question. It's an AU I’ve seen a lot in other fandoms, but not in Ncity so I’ll give a brief description. Essentially, Cardverse is four countries, all based on one of the four suits of playing cards: Spades, Hearts, Clubs, and Diamonds. They’re all geographically close to each other, and each ruled by a king, queen, jack, and any advisors. Kings and queens don’t have to be married! Here’s some visuals to picture the kingdoms better:

Spades:

Diamonds:

Clubs:

Hearts:

Feel free to ask any questions as the series progresses!

Anyways, without further ado,

Seven Of Spades -- Chapter 1

I sat outside, listening to the water crash against the rocks just feet away from me. I could feel the ghost of sea foam dance across my face, forcing my eyes to squint and my face to feel tight. A harsh breeze pushed across the water and up towards where I stood, pulling my hair away from my face so that I could see the Sun peek through the fog better. Just as I went to turn away, I heard a familiar voice calling my name.

“Seven!” It said, “How come you’re not ready?” 

The voice belonged to Yushi, the nicest boy in all of Spades. At least in my opinion. “Ready for what?” I asked. “Surely you don’t mean the parade three hours from now.” I called back in a teasing tone. “Of course I mean the parade! What else would I be talking about? You being ready to go pick herbs like every other day? C’mon Seven! We finally get to do something fun!” “I do fun things!” I replied. “We go for rides all the time!” “Rides along the same paths we’ve been riding along since we could get on a horse. They’re hardly fun anymore.” He retorted. 

Before I had time to argue, Yushi was pulling me back into my cottage. “You have to be presentable, Seven.” He began to lecture. “There’s a chance that the king and queen will see you!” “Even if they did,” I argued, “They wouldn’t keep looking at me! They live in a palace–they won’t be at all interested with some girl from the outer rocklands.” “You never know!” Yushi fought back. “Don’t you ever just let yourself dream of it for a second? Moving away from here into the palace; being surrounded by buildings instead of trees? Being able to afford modern furniture and clothes? You could have a stable for Cassie! Not to mention some dreamy royals!” 

“Yushi!” I yelled, giggling. “Maybe you should try to catch the royals’ eyes! “Maybe I will!” He smirked. “Seriously though, we need to figure out what you’re going to wear. We should leave early too–I want to get a good spot!” 

After we went through nearly my entire wardrobe, which wasn’t very big but still painful, we agreed upon a classic dark blue dress with a long-sleeved white tunic underneath. Pretty, but still standard Spade attire. I sat, watching Yushi braid my hair for a while before speaking, barely above a whisper. “I do think about it, sometimes.” “What?” He replied, much louder than I. “Living in a castle,” I blushed, “With royals and money and stables. Every girl does.” “I bet they do.” He smiled, tying my hair with a velvety blue ribbon. “Thank you.” I looked at him gratefully. He flashed me a grin, and began to pull something out of his pocket.

 “Before I forget!” He exclaimed, “There was a letter for you from the Wang family in Clubs–they left it in my mailbox again by accident.” “That’s strange–” I began to say in return. “They do it all the time!” Said Yushi, “You should be used to it by now.” “Not that!” I retorted. “I wouldn't be surprised if they just threw it into the wind and hoped that it would reach me! I’m surprised that it’s the Wang family–I don’t think I’ve done business with them before. Yushi shrugged. “Maybe they heard about your magic from someone else?” He didn’t seem concerned. He put the letter on my dresser and once again pulled me–this time back out the door. 

He ran to his horse as I walked towards the fence to get mine. “I bet Cassie’s excited for the parade!” He called. Cassie was, in fact, a horse who hated crowds, but I decided not to harp on that. Yushi was so genuinely excited that I wanted to reciprocate his emotions. After all, this sort of thing doesn’t happen often. 

I harnessed Cassie and we began the ride into the city. After some time, we met more and more people headed to the same place. I began to wonder aloud to Yushi, “Why are the royals even doing this, anyway? I can’t imagine it’s for fun.” “I’m not sure,” He replied. “They didn’t mention a real reason in the invitation letter. Maybe it’s just because they want everyone to be reminded of how gorgeous they are.” He flipped his hair as he said it. I let out a good, hardy laugh at that, and we joked about the possible reasons for the parade for the rest of the ride.

The city was bustling with more chatter and activity than normal when we arrived. Mostly, people were using the heavier traffic as an opportunity to promote their businesses, selling fruits and steel and all kinds of things at small booths along the main road. I came here every so often in search of ingredients or even to sell my own spells and medicines, but these streets never felt like home to me. I was much more comfortable with the crashing waves and big open spaces, as much as I liked to complain about them. 

As Yushi began to search for what he deemed to be the “absolute perfect parade viewing point,” My mind wandered to the royals. Everyone said that they were powerful-looking and generally attractive, but I really had no idea how they looked. I had seen them at public appearances once or twice, but those were years ago when I was quite young. My mind started to fill in the blanks, and I decided that they weren’t as beautiful as everyone made them out to be. They were probably just normal people with enough power to make everyone think they were extraordinary. Wouldn’t that be nice.

“Here!” Yushi yelled. “It’s perfect!” He had found a place just big enough for the two of us to fit along the rails that had been placed along the parade route, and it was close to a post where we could leave the horses. “Good eye!” I yelled back. We settled along the rail, and I couldn’t help but to overhear the chatter of the girls next to us. “I hear that the king has beautiful eyes!” Said the first. “I hear that the queen has the most beautiful smile in the whole kingdom!” Said the second. A little immature, but I decided to strike up a conversation with them anyway. “Do you guys know why this whole thing is being held?” I asked. “Nobody knows for sure.” The first girl said. “But everyone thinks it has something to do with the King or Queen searching for a bride!” “So they chose to do it through a parade?” I asked. “How would you elect to view all the potential wives within your kingdom?” The second girl said back. Fair. 

After what felt like ages of leaning against the rail and glaring at Yushi for dragging me here so early. I began to hear cheers from off in the distance. “They must be close!” Yushi exclaimed. “Can you see them Seven? Can you see?” “Not any better than you can!” I replied as he began to lean precariously over the rail, presumably to get a better view. “There!” He screamed after a minute of straining all the muscles in his neck. “I can see them!” 

I had never seen such a grand sight in my life. A huge carriage led by three strong, white horses glided over the path. It was open, but very high above the ground. The royals could be seen, but only from below. The carriage was blue with silver accents which dazzled in the sparse sun, and I could just see that the people on top were dressed in the same shade. As the carriage got closer, time seemed to slow down. I began to realize how rare of an opportunity this was, and how this was probably the closest I would ever get to power–to that life that every girl dreamed about. 

The carriage drew closer, and I could soon see in detail the people aboard. At the very front was our jack–Kim Doyoung. He had a serious face with glossy black hair and skeptical dark eyes. He smiled, but only slightly. Behind him stood two of the most beautiful men I had ever seen. Granted, I probably hadn’t seen very many, but still. The King, Johnny, wore a big, heavy looking silver crown atop his pristine yet wild brown wavy hair. He wore a bigger, more gracious smile as he drew closer and waved at all of his citizens. He was dressed in a simple, elegant dark blue suit with white accents, and his eyes were, indeed, quite beautiful. However, it was the man behind him that really took my breath away. The queen’s hair was longer, just reaching the bottom of his jaw. A much more dainty crown sat atop his head, and it complimented his matching blue and white outfit well. He came closer and closer, and he began to turn his gaze towards my direction. 

The thing I remember most clearly was his smile. His gorgeous, killer smile. God, I’ve never seen anything like it. He turned to look right at me and he gave me that smile. Just as Yushi grabbed onto my arm, the queen reached out for the king's arm. He nodded at me, and my eyes grew wide. Just as I was about to turn to Yushi to try and anchor myself, the carriage sped away. They continued down their path, and Yushi’s grip on me tightened. “He looked at you!” Yushi Cried. “Queen Yuta looked at you! Seven!” “It’s this braid you did,” I smiled, out of breath. “He probably wants one just like it.” “Don’t blow this off!” He hit my shoulder. “A million girls would kill for the queen to look at them like that!” “Well,” I replied, “We should probably get out of here before one of them does.”

[haechblur]

꒰ #at its root

✦ mark/haechan/jaemin ✦ soulmates universe ✦ 1/?

[yumiyue07]

Until the Seventh Moon

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

POV: K-idol x fem!reader

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 Part 32

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Part 33 - Final part

Epilogue

From the pavilion's carved railings, the view unfolded like a painting, the waterfall's silken cascade catching the last golden rays of the setting sun. A soft rainbow shimmered where the mist met the light, arching over the still waters of the heavenly lake. The air hummed with the lingering notes of a flute melody, sweet and familiar, weaving through the rustle of cherry blossoms.

Y/N nestled deeper into H/N's lap, her fingers tracing the embroidery on his robes on his chest. "At last," she sighed, "we're alone." Her lips brushed his collarbone. "I missed this. Missed you."

H/N let out a soft chuckle and wrapped his arms around her, setting his jade flute beside him—the moon and star pendants swaying gently in the evening breeze.

“Not half as much as I missed you.” He kissed her forehead, then hesitated, his voice softening. “You know… You remind me of my little kitten, Eunbyeol.” A quiet lump formed in his throat at the memory. “She used to curl up with me just like this whenever I came back to my room. I wish you could’ve met her.”

Y/N's fingers stilled on his chest. Then, gently, she turned his face toward hers. “But I did.”

H/N blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Eunbyeol was me,” she confessed, her smile tinged with mischief. “Or rather, a piece of my soul I sent to watch over you.”

His eyes widened. “That was you?”

She nodded, laughing at his stunned expression. “Didn’t you ever wonder why she never really ate? Why she never grew?”

H/N nodded slowly, the puzzle pieces falling into place.

“She ‘fed’ on your warmth,” Y/N continued. “Your presence gave her strength. It gave me strength. That’s how I could keep holding on.”

H/N exhaled sharply, the memories slotting into place—the way Eunbyeol had always known his moods, how her silver eyes had held too much understanding for a mere cat.

“So all those nights,” he murmured, “when I whispered my secrets to her...”

“I heard every word.” Y/N ducked her head, suddenly shy. “I just... needed to be close to you. Even if it was only as a shadow of myself.” She paused, cheeks tinged with pink. “And also because…

“Because?” H/N echoed with a knowing smile.

Y/N looked down, then up again with a shy laugh. “Because I missed you more than the moon misses the sun at dawn.”

A warm laugh escaped H/N’s lips as he held her tighter, resting his cheek against her hair. “No wonder, now it all makes perfect sense.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked with genuine curiosity, tilting her head slightly.

The lake shimmered before them, and above, the first star constellations began to appear—gentle witnesses to a love that had defied lifetimes.

“Well, this need for love… but also the jealous streak,” H/N replied with a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Whenever another woman got too close to me, Eunbyeol would sulk for hours afterward—even if she hadn’t been there. It always amused me how that little ball of fluff reacted. She reminded me of someone…” He brushed a tender finger along her cheek. “Of you, though I didn’t know it back then.”

Y/N let out a dramatic gasp, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Well, someone had to keep Mr. Heartbreaker in check. Imagine what might’ve happened if she hadn’t intervened.”

She made a move to get off his lap in mock offense, but H/N didn’t let her go far. With a swift, possessive motion, he grabbed her by the hips and settled her firmly back into his embrace.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “No one else has ever held my heart but you. No one else ever will.” His fingers slid up to cradle her jaw, tilting her face toward his. “These lips?” A brush of his mouth over hers. “Only yours.”

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips, and Y/N could hardly breathe. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, every inch of her on fire.

“H/N…”

She didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence. He kissed her deeply, fiercely, as if all the years they had lost were pouring into this single moment. The familiar fire ignited between them, spreading like liquid warmth through her entire being.

Her arms looped around his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing him closer. She returned his kiss with the same passion, melting into him, as if they could never be close enough.

When his teeth grazed her lower lip, she whimpered—a sound that sent his hands tightening possessively on her waist. “H/N… ah…”

“Perhaps,” he whispered between kisses, “we should take this somewhere more... private, Your Highness.”

Y/N's blush spread to the tips of her ears, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Are you suggesting we abandon this perfectly lovely pavilion, Your Grace?”

“I'm suggesting,” he said, standing with her still in his arms, “that I intend to worship every inch of my princess properly tonight.”

Above them, the full moon had risen high in the sky, its light painting their intertwined shadows across the marble tiles, a tapestry of devotion. It shone brighter than ever, as if smiling down on its favorite couple—fated, reunited, and finally free.

Down on Earth, no one remembered H/N. It was as if he had never been there at all — as though the wind had gently erased his footsteps from the Crescent Moon village paths. The Lee family lived on peacefully, surrounded by laughter and light. Mei, her smile softer now, often walked hand in hand with her husband through the cherry groves, while Min’s engagement bracelet gleamed in the sunlight as she teased her younger sibling.

And yet, on quiet nights when the moon was full and the wind whispered through the bamboo trees, the villagers still told the old tale of the Moon Princess — a story once filled with longing and loss, now graced with a happy ending.

“And so,” the storytellers would say, “though they were torn apart by curses and time, their love defied the heavens. For you see, children…" A pause for dramatic effect, small faces leaning closer. “On nights like these, if you listen very carefully to the wind… You might just hear her laughter echoing through the stars, reunited with her beloved at last.”

And high above, where the celestial lanterns glowed eternal, two shadows danced beneath the moon—closer than breath, brighter than fate.

The End

♡ Author's note

🌕💖 And that’s a wrap! 🎉

Thank you so much for joining me on this journey. 🌙✨ Even if it was a little quiet, just knowing that some of you were out there reading and feeling the story with me truly means a lot. 💜

Love, YumiYue 🌙

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram: @yumiyue07 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Moonstruck”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[cococunchy]

my soul connects to yours

pairing : stranger!haechan x gn!reader

genre (?) : red string of fate, strangers to lovers

summary : in the world you live in, seeing soulmates together are as common as riding a bike, be it platonic soulmates, or romantic. but finding your own is unfortunately not as easy. so by fate, when you pass a certain boy and realise who you were destined to be with, both of you decide to try it out

a/n : definitely very ooc for haechan but lets not talk about that and this might not be the best because the only true experience i have in writing is essays for school (💪🏻) so please bare with me

mc’s name is jisoo (can be unisex. ie, jisoo from bp and jisoo/joshua from svt) for convenience but feel free to change it!

from what i know theres no description about the characters body, but if there is please tell me 😭

word count: 952

——————————————————————————

the start of december, the most worrying yet also least worrying time of the year mainly for the reason that you’re not sure if you’re ever going to bump into your soulmate, all your friends have found theirs, so why couldn’t you? and as easy as you wish it’d be to find them, maybe following the bright red string that’s always glowing on your pinkie finger that only you can see, it hasn’t worked before and will probably never work.

you sigh, walking the streets of Seoul, Korea with heavily layered clothing for the winter season, the buildings were vibrant and beautiful yet all you felt was a gloomy grey.

it wasn’t as if you were desperate for love or a hopeless romantic, but seeing your friends so content with their soulmates has made you yearn for a love like theirs. a requited, never ending love between two chosen by the stars.

“oh! sorry, i wasn’t paying attention where i was going.” a voice piped up after crashing into you causing you both to fall back on the pavement. “i swear i’m not this clumsy usually.” he stood up, brushes himself off and offered a hand out to you, waiting to see if you’ll take it.

“it’s no problem,” you say with a small smile, a fall definitely kicked you out of your little three minute quarter-life crisis. though, you couldn’t help but notice something on his hand as you took it and pulled yourself up. a string. connecting right to your pinkie finger from his.

it seemed the man noticed too, as a sudden introduction coming from him the second you got back up on your feet. “name’s Lee Donghyuck, it’s a pleasure to meet you, my soulmate.” he playfully does a princely bow, though, you assumed it was probably just an act for peak first impressions.

“the pleasures all mine,” you bow/curtsy playfully right back after picking up your bag from the floor and brushing yourself off. “i’m Park Jisoo”

this man, Donghyuck, was his name? was complete eye candy to look at. his fluffy brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes pulled you in, maybe because he was your destined lover was why you looked at him in such a light, but never did you think someone you’d just met be so pretty to look at.

“you’re staring, soulmate, am i that handsome?” he teases, running his hand through his hair as if to try to make himself more attractive in your view, and you couldn’t deny its effect.

“not at all, soulmate, i was just zoning out” even his clothes seemed to perfectly match him. with a black shirt over his warm brown hoodie that accentuates his hair and eyes.

“i’m sure” he rolls his eyes, clearly not believing your bluff. “anyways, do you wanna go get ice cream? i’m sure you wouldn’t trust me enough to head to my place” Donghyuck said with a comforting smile, rubbing the back of his head.

you hit the jackpot.

not only was he a complete treat to look at, he was respectful too? you probably could’ve figured it out before he offered the ice cream, which always tastes better in cold whether, you figured out, but to have him acknowledge that you wouldn’t be comfortable enough to follow him to his home was really what sold you.

“yeah, let’s go”

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

by the time the two of you reached the ice cream store, it was already so close to closing you two might as well have been the last customers for the day. but the cashier showed no signs of fatigue and hurriedly went to scoop up the ice cream.

“thank you” you say to the cashier girl, and just as you were about to pay, Donghyuck holds your hand to stop you.

“i’ll pay, i was the one who offered, after all” he holds out his credit card and deets (real word; trust 💪🏻) it, paying for the ice cream. he waves goodbye to the cashier girl and leads you to a playground. usually this playground would be chalk filled with kids playing around, but in the cold winter, almost no one comes here anymore.

“you know, i never thought i’d meet my soulmate, especially a soulmate who’s a looker” he says, sitting down on a bench and looking up to the sky, seeing the starry night sky and beautiful moon. “you seem pretty nice too, though maybe i don’t know enough about you to say that yet”

you nod, sitting down next to him as you listened to what he said. “i hope i’m a nice person in other people’s eyes, but i just know you’re one.” everything he’s done so far, offering ice cream, paying for it, hell, even just knowing you wouldn’t want to go to his place, was enough to tell that he was a nice person. “i scored a home-run”

“and you’re a looker too,” you say, a small smile on your face. “pretty boy, through and through”

Donghyuck chuckles and god how you hoped you’d get to hear that sound for the rest of your life. he smiles warmly, a stark contrast to the weather you both were currently sitting in. “i like you, many people don’t compliment others so easily” he moved in a little closer, but far enough for you to not feel like he’s invading your personal space.

“this could work really well for us, right? this soulmate stuff”

“yeah, i think so”

and with that, the rest of the night was filled with talks and laughter as you got to know each other, as the stars and moon watched from above with calm smiles on their faces, knowing the fates have made another excellent pair that day.

——————————————————————————

(the amt of commas in this should be a crime)

not proofread at all so sorry if it’s bad or i messed up with pronouns (pls tell me if i did 🙏)

have a good day guys!

[nominzn]

destino jaemin

não há nada tão misterioso, místico e maravilhoso quanto o tempo. este tem suas artimanhas, suas invenções e conexões inexplicáveis que levaram você até jaemin.

notas! esse pedido foi feito pela minha bebê, @jaemingold. é inspirado em duas músicas: monalisa, do djavan e invisible string, da taylor swift. se você curte ler com música, recomendo essa (especialmente no momento "o dia"). é uma bobeirinha bem fofa, espero que gostem.

jaemin x leitora soulmate!au; akai-ito (cor diferente no fio); 3.3k !não foi revisado!

Dois anos antes

Numa das mesas vazias da sorveteria perto do parque também vazio está a menina cuja qual se prepara para o último ano de escola. 

O recesso de inverno é sua parte favorita do ano, a paz que a paisagem alva enfeitada de pequenas luzes douradas ou coloridas exala lhe é muito cara. Este é o período no qual escolhe recintos aleatórios para passear, sempre acompanhada de si mesma e um livro na bolsa. 

Decide-se a cada dia por lugares onde é costume ir no verão, assim, acaba sendo a única freguesa muitas vezes. A melhor parte, caso lhe perguntem. Por isso, a sorveteria Frigidarium te atraiu. Ao entrar no ambiente aquecido e ver apenas os funcionários, suspirou de alívio. Bingo.

— Boa tarde, senhorita. Obrigado por nos escolher, fique à vontade para escolher uma mesa. Irei até você. — o homem atrás do balcão cumprimenta com educação, mas parece nervoso e atrapalhado.

Um aceno de cabeça e um obrigada sussurrado foi o suficiente. Após achar conforto em um dos cantos, retomou a leitura que tinha iniciado no metrô. 

— Você é uma das minhas, sorvete é até no frio. Quais sabores vamos querer hoje? — ele já está com a caneta a postos.

— Eu amo sorvete! — sorri como uma criança feliz. — Pistache, chocolate belga e baunilha, por favor.

— Que combinação, hein? — o senhor ri com vontade, mas logo interrompe o riso com um estalo nos lábios. — O menino que me ajuda está super atrasado hoje, mil perdões pela bagunça.

Não tinha reparado, porém não era tanta assim. A agitação do homem vem de dentro, observa. 

As horas passam como as horas num dia de inverno deveriam passar, lentas o suficiente para render bem o dia. Terminou bem uns três capítulos e mais quatro sabores de sorvete antes de decidir que era hora de partir, teria uma jornada muito mais gélida de volta deixasse o Sol se pôr.

Preocupado, o homem aperta o casaco grosso contra o corpo enquanto percorre a área com os olhos pela enésima vez à procura de Jaemin. O moleque nunca se atrasa assim! Pelo contrário, é pontual, responsável, simpático. O que será que aconteceu?

Para o alívio do coração frágil do mais velho, uma figura apressada aproxima-se ao longe. É, finalmente, Jaemin, depois de ter ficado preso limpando a escola às ordens da professora mais malvada que já existiu na face da Terra. 

Ao passo que Na alcança a esquina, você deixa a sorveteria e despede-se, agradecendo a atenção do atendente caridoso. Assim que vira de costas para caminhar, o menino chega na frente do senhor, repousando as mãos nos próprios joelhos e revela a respiração ofegante pela corrida extensa. 

— Perdão, senhor. — Jaemin pede entre os suspiros. Retoma a postura ereta, as mãos apertam os ossos do quadril. — Tenho um motivo, juro.

— Ah, garoto! Não me assusta mais assim. 

Um ano antes

Jaemin nunca imaginou que seria a pessoa a sair de casa para estudar em outra cidade, parecia um sonho distante. Na verdade, não tinha passado por sua cabeça viver longe da família, não seria capaz. Cuidar de sua mãe e seus dois irmãos mais novos tinha tanto gosto de felicidade que não pensava em abrir mão disso, até que recebeu a carta de admissão de uma faculdade que nunca tinha aplicado. 

Obviamente foi uma tentação. Aquilo perturbou tanto a cabeça do jovem que o fazia acordar todas madrugadas para encarar cada palavra digitada naquele simples convite. As letras pareciam brilhar algumas vezes, um tom dourado que ele sempre justificava como imaginação fértil. 

Decidiu ir após um dia longo no trabalho, não poderia estacionar a vida por ali. Decisão tomada, as dores de cabeça e letras douradas sumiram, mas a sensação de estar sendo puxado para o que parecia certo crescia ao passo que o dia da viagem chegava. 

Primeira vez que viajou de avião sozinho, primeira vez pegando um táxi sozinho, primeira vez carregando todas as suas coisas em malas que lhe foram doadas, primeira vez que teria uma oportunidade de conhecer a si próprio, pensar apenas em si. 

O motorista do táxi sentiu compaixão pelo jovem menino e o ajudou a carregar todas as malas, o carro ficou lotado. Jaemin sentou-se no banco da frente para facilitar o transporte, e ainda assim, o espaço em seu colo estava sendo aproveitado também. 

— Você é tão jovem, parece minha enteada… minha filha. — diz o motorista, tentando oferecer uma conversa amigável ao garoto visivelmente assustado. — Veio para a faculdade? 

Jaemin suspira e solta um risinho para ser educado, o medo mal permite que ele interaja. 

— Sim, sim. Vim estudar música, senhor. Composição, na verdade.

O senhor exclama em animação, como se a maior coincidência tivesse acabado de ser revelada.

— Minha filhota também! Em qual faculdade? 

— Instituto SAE, senhor.

— Ah… — declara um pouco decepcionado. — Ela vai estudar na Academia JAM. 

— Meu amigo Renjun também! Talvez um dia a gente se conheça… 

— Espero que sim, rapaz. Ela seria uma boa amiga pra você, sabe? Nós nos mudamos recentemente para não deixá-la sozinha aqui, e agora estou trabalhando mais enquanto não encontro outra coisa melhor. Ela não queria, disse que não queria mais dar trabalho, mas a gente insistiu. Menina de ouro. 

Um breve silêncio paira no ar, Jaemin não sabe o que responder, só consegue pensar que sua vida está começando agora. Ele precisa ser responsável pelas próprias decisões daqui para frente, tudo depende dele somente. Não é como se sua família o tivesse abandonado, pelo contrário, dão todo apoio do mundo aos seus sonhos. Porém a distância… 

— Por falar nela… — o motorista interrompe os pensamentos do garoto e aperta o dispositivo à sua frente para atender a ligação. Por causa do bluetooth, Jaemin também faz parte da conversa. — Oi, filha! Tô com um passageiro, seja rápida. 

— Oi, papai. 

No exato instante que sua voz preenche o carro, a tontura e preocupação do mais novo cessam, sente uma calmaria acalentar o peito. Em volta de seus olhos há certa cintilância, o que ele pensa ser vertigem. 

— Cheguei no dormitório agora pouco, minha colega de quarto foi super simpática. Uma veterana de piano, fiquei tão feliz. 

O brilho aumenta conforme sua fala se estende. Jaemin pensa estar passando mal, procura alguma razão em volta de si que explique o as partículas douradas flutuando sobre sua visão. Sem justificativa, a confusão contorce suas expressões ao perceber que, ao fim da ligação, também se vão as poeiras brilhosas. Estranho. 

Vez ou outra esse pó mágico, como Jaemin apelidou quando criança, se apresentava em situações aleatórias. Na infância tudo é mágico, porém à medida que amadurecia, ficava mais difícil acreditar — e entender — do que aquilo se tratava. Quanto mais raras tornavam-se as aparições, menos pensava nisso. E assim pretende continuar. 

5 meses antes 

Se pudesse voltar no tempo, diria a si própria para não confiar no cara mais desejado do campus. Óbvio que todo esse papinho de estar apaixonado era mentira, de escrever músicas de amor (foram todas recicladas, por sinal), de prometer ser sempre seu… Tudo. Mentira. Como caiu na lábia dele? 

Sabe bem. Era só Doyoung pegar o violão que tudo parecia certo, sua tática de sedução infalível. O que ele falasse ao tocar qualquer acorde, olhando nos seus olhos, viraria voto secreto. 

Bem, os olhos outrora hipnotizados por toda beleza do homem, hoje se abriram. Numa das festas de um famoso quem popular do campus, pegou seu situação fiel no meio de uma pegação bem intensa com outras duas calouras. 

Não permitiu que ele chegasse até você, foi rápida ao se esconder entre as pessoas. Doyoung também não insistiu muito, não valia a pena. 

Mesmo com vontade de chorar, engole as lágrimas junto com uma mistura poderosa num canto qualquer. Pouco distante dali, na sala, estão Renjun e Jaemin, haviam chegado há pouco, quando o primeiro decide procurar pelo banheiro. 

— Eu já volto, não sai daqui. 

Jaemin revira os olhos. Até parece que encararia essa avalanche de gente sozinho, obviamente esperaria o amigo no mesmo lugar. 

Renjun se espreme entre os espacinhos que sobram para a passagem, bufando ao levar esbarrões que o atrapalham de tomar a direção que procura. Na verdade, já não reconhece mais em que parte da casa está. Fica na ponta dos pés para se localizar, batendo os olhos diretamente em você. O sorriso que estica os lábios se desfaz ao notar o olhar perdido, a expressão decepcionada e copos vazios por perto, além do meio cheio que está em uma das mãos. Boa coisa não pode ser. 

— Junnie! Oi! — a voz esganiçada denuncia o estado no qual o álcool te deixou, nunca o cumprimenta assim sóbria. — O que você tá fazendo aqui? 

— Que bom te ver também, coisinha. — implica, refrescando o paladar com o seu drink. — Qual foi dessa cara de bunda, hein? 

Inúmeras possibilidades de resposta passaram pela cabeça de Renjun, menos a sua reação de fato. Parece que a pergunta era a gota que faltava para que você quebrasse, não é capaz de conter as lágrimas. Vergonha, decepção, humilhação, todos os motivos se combinaram. Cobrindo a face com as mãos, se permite botar para fora por uns minutos. 

— Vou pra casa, Jun. Desculpa tomar seu tempo assim. 

Por mais dramática que a bebida te fizesse, desta vez realmente se sente culpada de ter dado um banho de água fria na diversão do amigo. 

— Eu levo você. 

— Não! 

Ele leva um susto com a sua rispidez, até afasta o braço que estava prestes a entrelaçar-se ao seu. 

— Não precisa, Jun. Aproveita a festa, é sério. 

— Para com isso. Te levo e volto, o máximo que vai acontecer é eu nunca mais ver esse dinheiro do uber, e… — você o belisca para retrucar a brincadeira, ele ri. — talvez o Jaemin fique meio puto. 

— Jaemin? Quer ir procurá-lo? 

— Deixa ele aí rapidinho, a gente não vai demorar. O seu dormitório não fica tão longe. — finalmente engata os braços, já direcionando os dois para fora do caos. 

— Renjun, eu posso ir a pé. Dez minutinhos não é muita coisa. 

— Exatamente, por isso mesmo, não é nada, eu já vou voltar. Fora que ir a pé agora é sinistrinho, não posso deixar.

Os dois se dirigem para fora sem que Jaemin veja, apesar de Renjun tê-lo procurado pro alto. Realmente não sente tanta falta do amigo assim, acaba encontrando dois colegas de sala por coincidência e não demorou muito para que ele retornasse. 

Esta foi a última vez que um quase separou você de Jaemin. 

Um dia antes 

Renjun espera Jaemin chegar em casa pulando um pouco de frio pela brisa surpreendentemente gélida esta noite. A jaqueta e a calça jeans não estão dando conta do frio, e o garoto reza para que o amigo chegue logo. Suas preces foram atendidas rapidamente, pois a figura forte do garoto se aproxima da porta de casa com um olhar curioso e um sorriso no rosto. 

— Tá com saudade de mim, Junjun? — ele provoca, causando um revirar de olhos no outro. 

— Abre logo essa porta, tá frio pra caralho. 

Entrando no apartamento quentinho, Renjun suspira de alívio e se joga no sofá na primeira oportunidade que tem enquanto Jaemin larga as sacolas de mercado na mesa da cozinha. 

— Ao que devo a visita? — Jaemin indaga ao retornar para a sala e fazer companhia ao amigo. 

— Amanhã você tem compromisso? 

Na parece pensar, e logo sacode a cabeça negativamente. 

— Ótimo. Minha amiga vai se apresentar e você vai no recital comigo. Não reclama, eu já comprei seu ingresso. 

— Eu nem disse nada. — ele lança uma das almofadas bem no abdômen do amigo. — Tá bom, ué. Se é pra ir, eu vou. Ela toca o quê? 

— Piano. 

— Ihhh, qual foi esse sorrisinho? Você gosta dela? 

O silêncio sepulcral segue a cara de horror de Renjun.

— Não?! 

— Sei… — faz uma expressão desconfiada só de sacanagem. 

— Definitivamente não, para de graça. — ele suspira, não querendo dá-lo o gostinho de cair em suas provocações. — Enfim. Amanhã às sete da noite, a gente se encontra no Centro e pede um uber, pode ser? 

Jaemin concorda, e eles seguem conversando sobre qualquer coisa. Ele concorda sem saber que absolutamente tudo faria sentido a partir daquele encontro. 

O dia

Apesar do trânsito caótico da cidade, chegaram com antecedência ao evento e, uau, está lotado. O burburinho toma conta do teatro enquanto os dois procuram o lugar privilegiado que Renjun havia conseguido, onde a acústica favorece e a visão não deixa a desejar.

De repente, após já sentados, o silêncio é pedido e atendido imediatamente. O primeiro solista entra sob aplausos contidos e inicia sua apresentação belíssima, Jaemin parece vidrado. Vez ou outra sentia choques de realidade do porque amar tanto música, e este momento se classifica assim. O violoncelo é um de seus instrumentos favoritos, por isso se deixa tocar pelas notas tão únicas e refinadas, quase não percebe quando termina o número. 

— Ela já é a segunda. — Renjun sussurra com discrição, acordando o amigo de seu transe. 

Os holds já haviam trazido o instrumento pesado até o palco quando Jaemin abre os olhos novamente. Na coxia, você respira fundo algumas vezes e dá os primeiros passos em direção ao banco com graciosidade, os aplausos estão abafados aos seus ouvidos. 

A quietude preenche o recinto outra vez ao passo que um zumbido perturba seus pensamentos, mas logo se vai ao pressionar as primeiras teclas com os dedos trêmulos. Renjun sorri em apreciação, orgulhoso da sua primeira composição sendo mostrada ao mundo. No entanto, Jaemin não sorri. 

Tudo que consegue ver é você, rodeada daquela mesma poeira dourada que ele conhece. Só que agora, há uma quantidade extravagante dela. Ele tampa a boca em formato de O, mas sua mão também está brilhando. Será que todos podem ver? 

Ele procura algum sinal em volta e não encontra nada. Fitando os próprios dedos, ele vê que há um fio reluzente amarrado no mindinho, que se estende de cadeira em cadeira, sobe ao palco e… Ele só pode estar ficando maluco. 

O outro lado do fio está atrelado ao seu mindinho. 

A sua mente gira. O que é toda essa luz? Mal consegue enxergar as teclas de tanto dourado, suas digitais também parecem estar sendo puxadas para fora do palco, especialmente onde está o nó brilhante. A ansiedade de errar na frente de tantas pessoas desregula a sua respiração por uns segundos, até que você fecha os olhos e confia na própria memória. Por trás das pálpebras vê um sorriso desconhecido que acalenta o desespero, e sem perceber, imita o gesto. Assim, nem parece mais você a tocar o piano. A melodia sai tão naturalmente e leve que nem sente esforço nenhum sendo feito. 

A melodia cessa, e as luzes se vão também, os aplausos e as exclamações de “bravo!” assustam você e Jaemin, os trazendo de volta para a realidade. Para ele, tinha acabado ali, só conseguia pensar em você nas outras três apresentações. Ao final, Renjun tira da mochila um pequeno arranjo de flores que havia guardado com cuidado e convida Jaemin para seguí-lo até o corredor, onde você estaria. 

Ao ver Renjun, seu sorriso nervoso se torna um sincero, e vocês se abraçam em celebração. Ele te entrega o singelo mimo com alegria, rasgando elogios sem fim. 

— No meio da música, parecia que você tinha se desligado completamente e só existia o piano. Foi lindo, lindo, lindo. 

— Obrigada, Jun. Eu realmente me desconectei, não sei… foi estranho, mas tão bom. — você confessa animada, notando uma segunda presença por perto. 

Hipnotizado é pouco. Jaemin está encantando, vidrado, nervoso, completamente focado no seu rosto, nos seus trejeitos. Chega a ser esquisita a forma que ele está se comportando. 

— Ah! Esse é o famoso Jaemin. Jaemin essa é a… irmão, acorda! 

Jaemin chacoalha a cabeça, completamente desconcertado. 

— Eu tava, hm, é… distraído. — limpa a garganta e estende a mão para você. — Prazer, viu? 

No aperto de mãos, você nota certa dormência em volta do dedo mindinho e, obviamente, ele também. Não só isso, ao reparar mais detalhes do rosto do menino, você confirma que o sorriso que vira durante a apresentação pertencia a ele. 

Isso só pode ser loucura, não é? 

Parecia cada vez mais real. 

Mesmo tendo decidido seguir suas vidas, a curiosidade não findava. Especialmente depois de uma série de encontros aleatórios, quase diários. 

Uma vez na esquina do trabalho, trombou com Jaemin, e a dormência nos dedos apareceu de novo. 

Depois no metrô, entraram ao mesmo tempo, um de cada lado, e quase caíram um em cima do outro. 

Outra vez foi em um domingo ensolarado, se encontraram no mercado comprando exatamente os mesmos sabores de sorvete, pistache, chocolate belga e baunilha. 

Era sempre meio estranho, risinhos simpáticos para disfarçar aquela vontade absurda de perguntar se o outro tinha sentido e visto as mesmas coisas. Aquela saudade inexplicável na hora de se despedir, quando algo dentro de si pedia aos berros para que ficassem. 

As coincidências ficaram insuportáveis, e Jaemin decidiu tomar uma atitude e testar sua teoria. Ele calmamente passeia pelo parque mais vazio e distante do Centro da cidade, escolhendo um dos bancos de madeira pintados de verde para sentar-se. Se você aparecesse ali, realmente seria um sinal, e não poderiam mais ficar quietos sobre o que vinha acontecendo. 

Impressionado, aliviado, mas pouco surpreso, o garoto sorri ao te reconhecer de longe. Você está ouvindo música, dançando pelo caminho e se aproximando devagar. É costume seu vir ao parque quando precisa espairecer sem ser incomodada. 

Jaemin se levanta e te espera chegar, ainda não tinha sido visto. As mãos enterradas no bolso da calça entregam o nervosismo, o estômago está revirado de borboletas.

Ao avistá-lo ali, seus pés travam, porém não consegue esconder o sorriso. Era o sinal que havia pedido ontem à noite, antes de dormir. Você se aproxima cheia da coragem que havia se permitido sentir e o abraça forte, tão forte que ele se perde por alguns momentos. Os braços fortes, no entanto, envolvem sua cintura com uma intimidade familiar, apesar de ser a primeira vez que se tocam assim. 

Jaemin é o primeiro a se afastar, bem pouco, deixando que os rostos se admirem bem de perto. Ele ajeita seus cabelos e você acaricia as bochechas macias dele com certa devoção. 

— Eu preciso fazer uma coisa. — sussurra como um pedido, encarando seus lábios e depois seus olhos. 

Você assente, novamente tímida, mas se entrega, cerra as pálpebras e espera a próxima ação do garoto. Com delicadeza, ele repousa os lábios sobre os seus e inicia um beijo doce, lento, repleto de carinho. 

Ao mesmo tempo, como uma miragem, vocês se veem crianças, correndo numa pracinha da cidade natal. Na sua cintura e na dele, o fio dourado se estica e se contrai conforme os movimentos da corrida entre os vários brinquedos. 

A cena não se demora, avançando no tempo. No mesmo ponto de ônibus para ir à escola, você e Jaemin quase se cruzavam todos os dias. Um subia no transporte, o outro chegava. E, mais outra vez, o fio os atrelava, como uma promessa. 

Depois, as cenas ficaram mais recentes. Jaemin era o menino atrasado na sorveteria e também o qual seu padrasto não parava de tagarelar sobre, você descobre. No dia da festa na qual descobriu a traição de Doyoung, no meio de toda aquela gente, o fio reluzente continuava a conectar vocês dois até que, finalmente, se viram pela primeira vez e chegaram até aqui. 

— Você também viu? — você pergunta baixinho, separando o beijo com alguns selinhos. 

— Vi. Demorei a vida toda pra te ter. — ele ri, sem acreditar que esse tipo de coisa é real. Depois de tanto tempo achando que tinha tomado decisões erradas, ele percebe que tudo colaborou para que vocês dois se encontrassem. 

— Eu nunca mais vou te deixar. — sua promessa remenda todas as mágoas e dúvidas no coração de Jaemin, que te toma nos braços de novo. 

Desde sempre, e para sempre, conectados para que se achassem, se cuidassem e amassem. Muitas vezes os dois se questionaram sobre o amor, sobre as circunstâncias de tantas mudanças, porém tudo passou a fazer sentido por causa do outro, e nunca permitiriam que isso escapasse.

[wzrzrr]

I CAN'T FIND THE FUCKING SOULMATE FIC I'VE READ AND THEN LOST IT AND I'M LOSING IT... Please guys it was a kpop soulmate au and all I can remember is that he rejects her in front of his friends bc she comes up to him saying "you're my soulmate!", then she walks home in the rain and he picks her up and takes her to a restaurant and they both order the same thing and she forgives him bc he apologizes PLEASE GUYS 😞😩 IDK IF IT WAS NCT OR SEVENTEEN BUT IK IT WASN'T A BTS ONE OR TXT PLS

[solaris-amethyst]

💫No one but you💫

✨Pairing: Sicheng x gn!reader ✨Prompt: Just two soulmates finding their way back to each other in seemingly every lifetime. ✨Genre: soulmate au, reincarnation, non idol au, lovers, angst, 🌙Warnings: suicide, death, poisoning, angst let me know if I missed any warnings!! ✨Word count: 5k ☀️Authors note: Yeah I totally sneaked in the line Stoick tells Valka when they meet each other again in httyd 2 simply because I love it so much and it fit so well with the theme of soulmates finding each other again and again. Also I tried my best in researching what people wore in the eras I chose and I'm so sorry if I got anything wrong! I'm no expert and tried my very best to find the correct terms and such!

219 B.C. (Qin Dynasty)

"Sicheng I'm not so sure we're allowed to be here." You mumble as he drags you into the palace gardens, passing by the beautiful ponds with koi fish in them. The night sky reflecting in the water as it ripples lightly due to the movements of the fishes.

"Shhhh I may do as I please and I want to bring my beloved here to show you the most beautiful sight." He says looking back at you with a smile. His hair framing his face beautifully and he looks so wonderful in the dim moonlight.

“You are the Emperors son Sicheng, if they find out you’re out here with me of all people they’d be furious.” You mutter knowing that it would be frowned upon if they found you, a servant, being around the son of the current Emperor of the Qin dynasty in a romantic setting. Sicheng would probably get a scolding while you would be punished harshly for it in ways you don’t even want to think about right now.

“Shhhh my love, do not worry, they will not find out about us I know so because I have made sure of it. Now please relax and wipe that sad look off your face. I do not enjoy seeing my love with such an expression.” He says caressing the left side of your face gently with his hand.

You couldn't help but lean into his gentle hand with a small smile. Perhaps you could relax and trust that he is truthful about that no one will find out. Perhaps Chang'e would keep watch over the two of you from her palace on the moon and allow you to peacefully enjoy each other's presence without being caught.

Sichengs green shenyi shone beautifully against his skin highlighting his status while your white one paled in comparison to his. Further highlighting that the two of you should not be together this intimate.

But who are you to deny what both your hearts desire. The two of you fit together in a way only the gods and goddesses themselves could have created. Ever since the first time you two met it has felt just right. A spark tingling in your fingertips every time you touched even if it was a brief fleeting touch. Destiny had woven both of your life threads together but it also felt cruel, knowing that your love wouldn't be accepted in the eyes of others.

Sicheng was expected to marry someone of a higher rank to maintain his high and respectable status and it would cause an uproar if it came out he wanted to marry a lowly servant. He had made it clear to you many times that he wanted to tell everyone about the love he felt for you. He wanted to be loud and bold and show that nothing could hinder his love for you but you had talked him out of it every single time for the fear of what would happen to him, you and your family if it were to come out.

"Perhaps we should run away, you and me." He whispers as he leans his forehead against yours.

"Run away? Sicheng where would we even go?" You question back, looking into his bight eyes who are looking at you with so much adoration you can't help but melt.

"Anywhere. I could take some of my riches with me and we could go wherever we want. We could start a new life. Just you and me, away from all of this."

"They'd never stop searching for you my love. They wouldn't let the Emperors son get away that easily and you know it. You're so beautiful any one would be a fool to miss seeing you, they'd send word and then we would be separated from each other." You say sadly before looking at him again, holding his hand gently.

"I'm okay with the way things are now if it means I get to know you are alive and well every day. That's enough for me."

"It hurts me every day that I don't get to spend with you. I do not want to live a life filled with misery where I have to wed someone I do not love. You and me are meant to be together until the end of the days of this earth." Sicheng whispered before leaning in again to kiss you slowly.

The two of you continued to spend the night in each others arms under the moonlight, enjoying each others presence and quiet love confessions and murmurs of a shared future was shared between short but loving kisses.

It wasn't until the break of dawn that the two of you separated. You bid your lover farewell and hurried back to the servants quarter as Sicheng made his way to his.

You hope that no one has seen the two of you knowing if someone sees you two it would be over for you. You'd loose your job and quiet possibly your life as well if you were unlucky.

"There you are! Where have you been? It is required for us to go to the great hall of the emperor today." The head of the servants said as you had entered your quarter again and you could feel some anxiety settling into your stomach.

You hadn't been caught had you? "Have they said what for?" You ask trying to seem unbothered by the fact that they suddenly want you all in the great hall. Perhaps someone had seen the two of you out on your nightly meetings in the garden and told the emperor?

"There are some announcements to be made and rumors has it the emperor knows somethings been going on which he isn't happy about." The head of the servants said with a stony face and it made you gulp as you nodded before hurrying away to change into a new, fresh white shenyi.

The walk to the great hall after the sun had finally taken her rightful place up in the sky was nerve-racking. Slight tremors made their way from your feet all the way up to your hands which you held tightly together as you held them slightly up above your stomach. You and the other servants keep your heads slightly bowed down as to not offend anyone of a higher status as you walked towards your destination.

The grand doors opened and you and the other servants stepped inside before quickly taking your positions at the near end of the room towards the walls so you'd melt in and not take up any more space than necessary. The emperors steely gaze flitted over all of you once you got settled after bowing to him and you could have sworn his eyes looked at you for a bit longer than they did with any of the other servants, which did not help the tremors you felt slowly wrecking through you.

It took a while before the doors opened again and Sicheng waltzed in followed by his escorts. He looked beautiful today, as he always did, his clothing highlighting his beautiful face and those beautiful phoenix eyes of his. You noticed by the way he walked that while he was confident there was a part of him that was unsure.

You wanted so badly to go to him and comfort him but that would only result in something incredibly bad happening.

Taking deep and steady breaths as the silence engulfed the room to the point where it felt suffocating. The energy in the room was filled with uncertainty and worry to the point where small whispers could be heard about what could possibly be happening next. It wasn't until the emperor stood up that the room fell silent again.

"It has come to my attention that someone in this room has ensnared my son into having thoughts of running away from the palace and his life as my heir." The emperors voice was calm and steady as he spoke and you felt your breath hitch at what he was saying, casting a quick glance at your lover you notice the panic in his eyes though his exterior remained calm.

"There is one in this room who has filled his head with thoughts of running away, of abandoning his position and for making him think he's in love." The steely gaze goes through every single person in the room analyzing them all until they land on you, you can't even comprehend that he's looking at you before two guards have taken ahold of your arms from behind forcing you forwards to be in front of the emperor.

"There you are." Is all he says and now Sicheng cannot stop himself.

He steps forward to try and reason with his father but he's held back by other guards.

"Father! Please stop this nonsense! What you have heard is not true." He tries to desperately convince him that there is nothing going on and that you should be left alone but his father does not listen to him.

"You have made my son look away from his duties and made him consider abandoning his destiny and filling his head with ideas that he can do whatever it is he wants." The emperor says coldly and you feel yourself shiver and tremble at what might happen next.

You know you can't say anything to deny it, it would only make things worse. You make the mistake of glancing up towards Sicheng and meeting his eyes makes a single tear escape from your eyes as realization hits you that you will never see him again.

"Take them away. Their life is forfeit." Was all that was said as the guards begins to drag you away and that's when the fear and panic kicks in and you start fighting your way out of their grasps.

Desperate to get to Sicheng one last time.

"Sicheng!!" The guards wrestle with you and you can see the guards holding onto your lover do the same.

"Y/n! My love!" He reaches for you desperately.

"Let go of me this instant! Father please you have to let us go!" Sicheng reaches his hand for you and you stretch yours out as well and the two of you only manages to touch each others fingertips before being ripped away from each other for good.

The spark that was always there when you two touched gave you some sense of comfort as you were dragged away. Calling out for your loved one, hoping and wishing that no matter what happens to you next your beloved would be safe.

That was the last time Sicheng saw you. As the door closed he be-witnessed his loved one, his Y/n, be dragged away seemingly having accepted their fate. He knew what was going to happen to you next and yet he couldn't find it in him to accept it. The tears fell freely from his eyes, his heart breaking as his mind went numb.

You would be gone and he would be forced to live on.

He could not look at his father any more after that moment. He became like a shell, empty and hollow now that his love was gone. Even when he was forced into a marriage he couldn't feel anything.

Sometimes he'd venture out to the gardens during the nights and sit and look up at the moon. Wishing you were with him, sometimes he wondered if this is how the goddess Chang'e felt as she resided on the moon as her beloved Hou Yi didn't reside with her on the moon.

How could he live with this feeling? He knew what had happened to you yet he could not accept it.

"My lord?"

Sicheng looked up from where he was sitting, spotting a servant looking timid and worried, holding something which looked familiar to him.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry if I am disturbing you my lord. It's just... I thought you might have wanted this." The servant walks forward and quickly hands him a pendant.

Your pendant. The pendant he gave you during your first visit together in the garden under the moon.

"This is Y/n's pendant." He murmurs, feeling emotions well up inside of him again.

"Yes, I thought you might want it now that they are no longer alive." The servant said before bidding him farewell.

"My love." Was all he whispered before he broke down again holding the pendant up to his face so he could give it a gentle kiss.

That's when he decided. He no longer wanted to live in a world where he couldn't be with you. He'd rather find you in the next life than live this life without you.

Without much thought he stood up, walking slowly yet gracefully as silent tears fell from his eyes. He walked up to the highest point he could find on the wall surrounding the great palace he resided in.

It was weird. He felt at peace with the decision to take his own life as he stood there looking down at the ground.

"I'll find you soon again my love."

And with that.

He jumped.

545 A.D. (Middle Ages)

"Do you believe in love Y/n?" One of the children in your village asked you as you wandered up to the well to gather some water to bring back to the physician you worked for.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe? Surely everyone is destined to find love at least one time in their life." You tell them as they follow you like a pack of lost puppies wanting some affection and attention.

"Have you found love yet??" A little girl asks looking at you with wide eyes and you can't help but chuckle at that while shaking your head.

"No I haven't. I don't know I don't think I will find love if I'm honest. I'm pretty happy the way my life is now you know." You tell her as you fill your bucket with water and the kids all make varying noises of disappointment, clearly having hoped to hear something else from you.

"Why? You thought I had someone?" You ask them curiously as you turn to walk back to where you work and a chorus of yes! hits you.

"You're pretty and nice so of course you should find love!"

"Aren't you the age to marry someone?"

"If you can't how will I?!"

The kids all talk in the mouth of each other and you snort.

"Well I am certain you guys will find love eventually. Sometimes it just takes time finding the right person you know." You tell them, making sure to emphasize that it's important finding the right person for you and not just fall for any random person.

"But how do you know?"

"I guess you just do when you meet them." You tell them chuckling again. Their questions were really cute and they were curious about pretty much anything, the could listen to you talk about different kinds of weeds you'd use to help treat sickness because you spoke in a way they could understand.

"Well kids, now you have to leave me! I got patients to help after all and we don't want any of you getting potentially sick." You tell them, shooing them away so they wouldn't be in the way or get sick themselves.

"There you are! We got a new patient while you were gone. I need you to look him over as I go get the correct medicine to treat him." The physician tells you as you step inside your quarters.

There on one of the beds lays a man with jet black hair looking very sickly. You take a few steps forward and you notice that he is gorgeous, something within you churns as if you're nervous seeing him. He looks peaceful when you settle down next to him, grabbing a cloth to dab on his face to try and keep his fever down. There is something about him which makes you relax, he seems familiar and you can't help but wish he would open his eyes so you could see them.

You sit with him even when the physician comes back and start working on the medicine for the man. You can't help it, leaving him or the thought of leaving him makes your chest hurt. Could this be love at first sight? Or is it something else?

"I will stay with him until he's fully recovered so you can still go and do your home visits." You tell the man in the corner and he nods, pleased he can still go and help others as you will keep your eyes on the new patient.

You spoke soft words to him as you sat with him day and night. And the more you spoke to him the more your heart grew fond of him. There had even been a point where he had woken up for a little while and when he saw you he had given you the most beautiful smile, murmuring the line It's you, I found you. Before he went back to sleep, the sickness making him more tired than he probably would be normally.

Other times he'd wake up breifly and you were able to feed him, he'd always look at you with those big beautiful eyes, it was as if he couldn't look away and it made your heart flutter. You learned that his name was Sicheng and he was kind, kinder than anyone you'd ever met.

There were nights when he was restless, when he was in pain and he'd whimper and groan looking paler and more sickly instead of looking healthier. What would always make him relax was when you sat with him and held his hand. You'd tell him stories, talk about your day or the latest gossip around town which seemed to help.

He'd always squeeze your hand gently throughout the day, as if to make sure you were still there as he rested.

You had promised you wouldn't leave him but there was one morning when you had to. The physician had told you he needed you to run down to the market to buy some more supplies as he worked on some things for the king.

Reluctantly you left Sichengs side, your heart aching as you left him. It didn't feel right anymore, the only time everything felt like it was how it was supposed to be was when you were with him. You knew you had fallen for the sickly man. All those days spent tending to him, feeding him, talking to him had made you realized you had fallen for him so leaving even for a moment felt awful.

"Hello I need to buy some honey and oregano and thyme today." You told the vendor who quickly wrapped everything you needed and handed it to you in your basket. After you had paid the man you hurried back to your work place.

Eager to see Sicheng again.

But when you enter the place you can see your coworker with a grim face and as you glance towards the bed you see that Sicheng is now covered entirely by the blanket you had put on him.

Meaning only one thing.

"No." You whispered as you look at the bed with wide eyes, almost dropping the basket in the process.

"I'm sorry dear... he did not make it." Is all your coworker say as he turns around to give you some privacy as the tears begin to fall.

You set the basket down and walk up to the bed, sobs can be heard as you sit down leaning your head on his covered stomach gently.

"I should have stayed." You sob as you cannot comprehend that the man you had been caring for, the man you had fallen for, that was so familiar when you first saw him, that filled that empty hole within you were now gone.

"I love you."

1755 (Rococo)

The ball was grand. Nothing like you had been to before, but perhaps that's what you should expect when you're invited to a masquerade ball by the king himself.

The room was filled with bustling energy and no one knew who else would be at the ball. You were hoping that a certain someone would be there.

There was this man who always was at every ball and he seemed to have a knack for finding you no matter where you were in the grand spaces. He'd always find you and you always knew it was him because of his signature bow and the words he always greeted you with.

"My love, may I have this dance?"

You were excited to hear those words again. You wanted nothing more than to dance with him and see if you could find out who he was. You wanted to get to know him more than you already did.

Taking another sip of the wine that had been served to you, you made a face at the taste of it. It tasted a bit weird but perhaps it was just a kind of wine you were not used to.

That was probably it you thought as you finished the entire glass, setting it down at a table as you begin to slowly walk around. Looking for where your man might possibly be. Yes, perhaps you had grown a little possessive over him, but you couldn't help it. He always looked for you, never entertained anyone else in the room even when many tried to speak to him or ask him to dance he always declined and went to you.

The music was lovely as it gently danced around the room, people already waltzing around on the ballroom floor in a graceful coordinated dance.

"My love, may I have this dance?" You heard his voice from behind you and when you turned around there he was, in a beautiful suit in the most vibrant of blues with gold details. His mask decorated in blue and gold as well as he held out his hand for you to take.

"You may." You say with a smile as you put your hand into his and he gently leads you onto the floor. Positioning your hand on his shoulder as he places one on your hip.

"Just follow my lead, I won't let you fall." He tells you with a smile as you two begin to twirl around.

"You know I was starting to think you wouldn't find me." You tell him as he dances with you.

"Oh I will always find you, no matter where you might be." He says, eyes twinkling beautifully under the light casted by the candles around in the room.

It was as if time slowed down when you danced with him. Everything else faded into the background as you focused on him. It felt so right, so serene and complete.

"You need to tell me your name some day so we can meet outside of these balls." You tell him, praying he will agree so you two can meet up more often.

You could honestly envision yourself living until the end of your days with him. Marrying, growing old, perhaps one day have kids if the two of you wanted that.

"I've been waiting for you to tell me that my dear, I didn't want to come on to strong by asking to see you outside of these balls if you weren't interested in me that way." He tells you, relieved that his love, even if you might not realize who he is, wants to be with him the same way he wants to be with you.

As he spins you around you start feeling a bit dizzy. This has never happened before when you've danced and just as you're about to tell him that you should stop, you collapse into his arms.

"My love! Are you alright?" He asks worriedly as he holds you. He looks you over wondering what could be wrong. It is then he notices the sickly color on your face.

Sicheng can feel the color drain from his eyes as he realizes what's happening. He had seen this before. You must have been poisoned and now you're dying quickly. The dread he feels as your breathing starts to become shallow and weaker is like the first time he lost you.

"No... HELP! PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR." He shouts loudly and people around him gasps as the reality of the situation kicks in.

He can see others stepping away from the food and drinks as they surround the two of you just staring. No one seems to be helping or getting someone who can.

"DON'T JUST STAND THERE GET A DOCTOR PLEASE! THEY'RE DYING! MY LOVE IS DYING PLEASE." He shouts again, desperate.

He can't lose you again. Last time he died because he was sick and now you're dying. He had promised himself he'd protect you and he couldn't do that in this life.

"Sir they're dead." Someone from the crowd said as they pointed to you.

Sicheng looks down and sees that you've stopped breathing. He pushes his ear to your chest trying to hear your heartbeat but he hears nothing.

"No. No no no please." He whimpers and the onlookers look at him with sympathy.

It is clear to everyone in the room that he loved you more than life its self. His sobs and the way he holds your dead body close is the proof of that.

"I'm sorry my love, please, I'm sorry, come back to me, please." He whispers over and over, hoping that somehow, someway he can get you back.

But in the end you don't respond.

You're dead and there is nothing he can do to bring you back.

2025 (Modern)

It had happened several nights in a row now for it to not be a coincidence. You'd wake up from a dream and in that dream there would always be a man. You don't know him, or at least you don't think you do but yet he seems so familiar to you.

Every time you see him in your dream you relax, it's as if all your worries are washed away when he is near you. Sometimes he got long hair and beautiful, flowing clothing. Sometimes his hair is shorter and he's wearing regal clothing and sometimes he's wearing what looks to be garments of someone who is a healer.

And the one thing that is consistent in each and every dream you have no matter what era your brain seems to have conjured up he always looks at you with such kind eyes. As if you hold the entire world in his eyes. There is so much love and adoration in his eyes that you want to melt.

Sometimes he talks to you but you can never hear his voice apart from a mere whisper in the wind. It's so familiar yet you've never actually heard his voice before.

You once told your friend about this and she had laughed and said that you must be lonelier than you thought and wishing for a boyfriend since your brain is conjuring up a boy in different lifetimes that seems to always want to be with you.

Perhaps you were lonely? You always told yourself you were okay with being single, owning your cat was more than enough even though sometimes you deep down yearned for a partner. But every time you tried to go on a date it never felt right, you'd get this pain in your chest as if the person you were seeing wasn't the one for you and you'd always leave feeling empty, as if a part of you were missing and no matter what you did nothing could heal that empty feeling.

The only time you'd ever felt completely whole was when you saw that man in your dreams. No matter what era he was in it felt right, as if you were destined to be with him.

Perhaps you were? If you believed in things like soulmates and maybe others would laugh at you if you ever admitted it but you believed that there was such a thing as soulmates. There had to be. Two souls which love each other so much they cannot help but search for each other in every life time until they can be with each other and be whole again.

As you were walking down the street, just wandering, your eyes watching a couple on the other side of the street you bumped into someone almost falling onto your butt had the stranger not caught you.

"Oh I'm sorry I wasn't looking where I was go-" Your voice trailed off as you looked up at the stranger.

It was him. The man in your dreams. The prince, the sick patient, the man at the masquerade ball.

He looked at you as if you had hung the stars and you felt it, the spark that ignited your entire body as his fingertips touched yours. It felt as if your entire body was on fire and only one thing was on your mind.

"Sicheng." You mumbled out looking at him as memories came flooding back. Your lover, he had found you, he always found you. The tears of relief welled up into your eyes quicker than you had anticipated as you reached up with a shaky hand to touch his cheek.

To make sure he was real and not a fragment of your imagination.

His cheek was warm and he leaned into your hand as you gently caressed his cheek. A low hum escaping him as he enjoyed feeling your gentle touch once again after so many years of searching for you.

"It's you. It's really you my love." You whimper giving him a smile through your tears and his eyes glisten with unshed tears as he understands.

You remember him. You know it's him. His own hand engulfs yours and he brings yours close to his mouth so he can give it a gentle kiss, his adoring eyes never leaving you. Soaking up the view of you in front of him. Looking at him with nothing but love.

He leans closer to you, his forehead resting on yours as he whispers quietly, only for you to hear:

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

[scared-kpop-reader]

I’m 25 years old!

I just follow the serotonin ¯\_(ツ)_/ life is too short to not find joy where you can, and if reading about pretty boys delivers that, than that’s what I’ll do! Each story reblogged here scratch an itch in my brain or gave me a spark of happiness, so it’s worth preserving and sharing 💜💜💜

Bands I’ll probably reblog:

- Stray Kids (favs rn)

- BTS (an old favorite, we’ll see if the serotonin comes back)

- Enhypen (a new interest)

- SVT (old interest starting to be renewed)

- NCT (old interest)

Idk if I’ll reblog any smut here or keep that for my other fic rec blog. We play by ear here! I don’t usually like hurt/no comfort because life is too stressful and depressing already, I don’t need my fiction like that either.

Personal favorite tropes:

- soulmate aus

- desperate, pathetic, and/or devoted men

- disabled readers (I’m disabled so I really enjoy the representation!!!)

[ohhmydyosfics]

(Nomin) lean on me (leave your mark behind)

Jaemin can confidently say that he peaked at age five.

"I can barely choose what I want to eat for breakfast, and now you tell me that I have to choose my own soulmate? That's crazy. That's too much responsibility for me."

[jungwoosshoes]

Seven Of Spades -- Part II - Hearts

Part 1 ----> Part 2 (Hearts) ----> Part 3 (Clubs) ----> Part 4 (Diamonds)

NCT x Reader Cardverse AU!

Pairing: Nakamoto Yuta, Johnny Suh, Lee Jeno, Xiao Dejun, Kim Jungwoo, Park Jisung, Qian Kun, Lee Ten, and Zhong Chenle x reader ; friend! Yushi x bestie! reader, Sakuya's here as a fairy Godfather too!

Warnings: Not many--reader is a witch and kinda poor, there's some political conflict, mentions of sick people

Note: I refuse to use Y/N, so watch me struggle to write around it! <3

Word Count: 5.3k

The Escape:

“He really looked at you Seven! I can’t believe it! You!” 

“Jesus Yusi.” 

“What?” He asked. I rolled my eyes, “I mean, if he were to look at anyone, it’s not like I’m that hideous.” “Oh!” His eyes went wide. “That’s not what I meant! You know that’s not what I meant Seven. It’s just,,you know. We’re from the Rocklands. The outer ones at that. I didn’t think Kings or Queens or even Jacks looked at people from here.” “I know what you meant, Yushi.” I smiled. Faintly, but he’s known me long enough to pick up on it. We were nearing our neighborhood now, and I was relieved to be far from the crowds again. Sure, a little excitement is healthy, but when all one knows is near solitude, it can be quite overwhelming. “That might be the most noteworthy thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” I lamented. “And it only lasted a second. “Seven!” Yushi yelled. “Don’t talk like that. You’ll get married, have children, and you heal people all the time with your potions and such. In my opinion, that’s way more exciting than making eye contact with some queen.”

“You’re right.” I replied. “I’m always right.” He retorted. I let out a chuckle at that–mostly because that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

We arrived at the fork between our two cottages, and Yushi insisted he follow me home so he could see what Mr. Wang had written to me about. “Probably raving about how you healed him again!” Yushi said. “Or sending you more money! You could use that to buy a new dress! Or fix your ceiling!” He suggested. “Priorities, Yushi.” I chided. “Obviously a dress would be far more useful!” He let out a good, hardy laugh at that as he dismounted his horse, and put him away in the stable with my Cassie. “Are you thirsty?” I asked. “I’m more curious to see what this letter says.” He rushed into my room, where I had left it. He thrusted it toward me, and I rolled my eyes. I opened it, and to both of our dismay, no money was enclosed. It was, however, full of desperately written words. 

“Dear Miss Seven of Spades,” It read. “Your reduced pine-dandelion elixir was nothing short of a miracle sent from God to heal me during a desperate time, and for your services I am forever grateful. Though I remain in good health, I regret to inform you that my young son has fallen very ill. He has grown scarily pale, and hasn’t the energy that a young boy should have. My wife and I are worried sick, and none of the remedies tried by us or our family doctor have worked. Please, if you would be so kind, I’d like to request your services again, this time for the benefit of my boy. Of course, you shall be handsomely rewarded. Our address is the same–good luck on your journey. Many thanks, Wang Yŭxuān.”

“Oh no.” I whispered as I set the letter down. “What?” Yushi questioned. “He hasn’t died, has he? Oh Seven, tell me he hasn’t died!” “No.” I turned to look at him, “But his son has grown very sick. I can hardly believe it–he was such a healthy baby when I last saw him. “You’ll help him, right?” Asked Yushi. “Of course I will!” I exclaimed. “I’m going to start getting everything together now–the ride to Clubs takes forever–it takes hours just to get to Hearts! I have to leave right away!” 

I began rushing around my cottage, gathering everything I thought I might need into a large bag. I had an idea of what I could make, but would refine the details along the way. “I’ll look after everything while you’re gone.” Yushi offered. “Thanks Yushi. You really are the best.” I said honestly. “I know!” He quickly replied, coaxing a snort out of me. Even if I was stressed, he always knew exactly what to say. 

“Be safe!” Yushi called as I rode down the main road. “I won’t!” I yelled back, smiling wide. As I grew farther from the Rocklands, I expected to see more people, but didn’t. “Just you and me for now, Cassie.” I said to my horse, who doesn’t speak human, but I felt could understand me for some reason. The ride to Clubs should take two days, or at least that’s how long it took me in the past. Getting to the border of spades wouldn’t take long, it was passing through Hearts which would cause the real issue. I elected to cross that bridge when I got to it, and began to look through my bag for my citizen’s card in the meantime. Nobody could travel without one, so I figured it would be pretty important. “Got it!” I said to nobody in particular upon finding my card. In good time, too, because I was swiftly approaching the border. 

“Now where exactly are you going, miss?” Asked the officer once I got closer. “Hearts sir. Ultimately Clubs, but Hearts in the meantime.” I replied as sweetly as I could. “I take it you weren’t at the parade, then.” He said, refusing to take my citizen’s card. “I was sir! Is that a requirement?” I asked, profoundly confused. “No, little girl. However, at the conclusion of the parade, the royals announced that Spades would be closing its borders.” “What?” Now I was even more confused. “What good could that possibly serve? They can’t just shut everything down, sir! People have jobs, and families in other states! What do they expect us to do?” “Relax, sweetheart.” He replied condescendingly. “It’s only temporary, they’re looking for somebody. The borders will probably open again in a day or two.” “But sir! Surely they can make an exception! I have to go save a young boy! He’s fallen ill and his father sent for me, I–”

“No exceptions, sweetheart.” The officer replied coldly. “Now I suggest you get back to wherever you came from–who knows? Maybe you’re the one they’re looking for.” “Yeah.” I whispered, turning away. “Maybe”

I couldn’t believe it. I did know this for sure though–that I wasn’t about to let some royals be the reason a young boy died. So, I decided. I would take the route I had only heard of from elders around the Rocklands–through the woods and into the smaller villages in Hearts. I returned home, and put on an old, brown dress. I don’t know, I figured it might help me blend in better. When I mounted Cassie again, I began the ride to the pond that supposedly marked the beginning of the path. It was close to Yushi’s cottage–we used to play in it when we were little. I got closer, and my heart rate increased. How would we fare in the woods, Cassie and I? What would we find there? How long would we have to travel? I wasn’t sure–I couldn’t be. But somebody needed me, so I had to be brave. 

The path was faded, but I was sure I found it. It must’ve been used by people years ago, when the divide between states wasn’t so…harsh. It must’ve been a much better time. But then again, what would I know? I prepared myself to enter the path, and just as we began to take our first strides into uncertainty, I began to hear voices. For a moment I considered that I might be going a touch crazy with nervousness, but then, when I turned my head, I saw that the sources were very real, and even more terrifying. Yushi was standing just outside his door, speaking to four men. Three in blue suits with silver accents, and one in all black with dark glasses. I would eventually discover the real reason that the royals had been at Yushi’s door that evening, however it was not on that day. Instead of asking, I elected to take off as quickly as possible. 

 The woods were thick and dark on both sides of the path, but there was enough light from the sun above for us to keep sure of our footing. I was initially frightened of the small noises and large deer in the woods, but we made it through relatively unscathed. Light from an opening in the trees engulfed Cassie and I, and I could hardly believe my eyes. It was just a few feet away.

HEARTS

I had been to Hearts before. Still though, the differences between this place and my home were shocking. Hearts had no jagged rocks or high winds. The Sun seemed to live here, and only begrudgingly visit Spades when it felt that it had to. Pink flowering trees bloomed absolutely everywhere, coaxed out of hiding by the warm spring breeze. Beyond the small houses along the border of the forest, a red city rose out of the rosy vegetation, seemingly in harmony with the nature around it. Cassie and I had to stop to catch our breath for a while, and I was quite glad that this was the sight we were to enjoy while we did. 

As we began to walk the faint path into town, I noticed people buzzing about with excitement. They were chattering about something, but I figured it wouldn’t be anything important to our journey. I figured. The farther along I got, the more I noticed that everyone was wearing red, and the more I noticed that everyone seemed to be hurling offended and confused looks towards Cassie and I. Now Cassie is quite the beautiful horse–she was white with painted brown spots and auburn streaks in her white mane and tail. So, I put together that people likely weren’t directing their looks towards her. I grimaced as I kept walking, and tried to keep my head down. That was, until I ran into a tall man wearing a red Hearts uniform. 

“Excuse me, but what exactly do you think you’re wearing?” He grumbled in an irritated tone. “A…a dress, sir.” “That dress could get you fined. I’ll never understand your generation. So against any type of authority. Is this your way of rebelling? Because it’s pathetic.” “I’m very sorry, sir,” I replied cautiously, “But I don’t understand. I’m not trying to rebel at all! This…this is the only dress I have.” I couldn’t tell him that I was traveling from Spades–there was a chance he knew about the travel ban. So, I figured that being purposefully vague was the way to go. “Well then I suggest you get a new one. Now. There's a shop right down this road–it’s cheap, built for villagers like yourself.”

With that, he left, and left me confused. Not about who the court was–that was what the Hearts royals were called, and not about his opinion of me as a villager. There was sentiment like that in all the kingdoms–people from the Rocklands or the Village, they were all the same to people from the big cities. What confused me was why he was so upset about my dress. It wasn’t expensive or fancy, but it was fine! And in a nice neutral color! Regardless, I figured that if I wanted my journey to continue through here, I better get myself a new dress. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to blend in with the people–just in case anyone from Spades came looking for me. 

The dress shop seemed humble–a little pink building with a sign out front–”Style By Sakuya.” I walked in though, and I was blown away. Clothes of every shade of red one could imagine lined champagne-colored walls; gowns, blazers, and skirts covered almost every inch. “Hello!” I heard a voice call from somewhere deep in the store, “Just to let you know, we’re having a court day special sale! Thirty percent off everything!” “Oh!” I replied, caught a little off-guard. “Thanks–I’ll keep that in mind!” I took a few steps deeper into the sea of gorgeous designs, and a head popped out from behind a display rack. 

“Oh my God!” It exclaimed, “What are you wearing?” These people. Seriously. “A dress.” I said, sounding a little more irritated than I meant to. “Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you!” said the boy, stepping out from behind a fuchsia suit hanging on a rack. “I get it. Who are they to tell us what to wear? But still, it’s kinda fun to see everyone so dressed up, putting their own little spin on things!” “Yes…” I replied, cautiously. “I just don’t like being told that I have to dress nice!” That must’ve been it. Their court probably mandated that everyone wear their finest clothing today. For what reason, I was unaware. But, better to let on like I know all about it. “Yeah…what are you talking about?” Asked the boy, “Because I think we heard different announcements.” “Umm…” I stumbled, “I mean…” 

“I don’t think you’re from here!” He cried. “Wow! I’ve never really talked to someone from another kingdom before! This is so exciting!” I had been caught! I was trying to fit in better and I got caught within the first half hour of being here! “Wait!” He exclaimed. “How’d you get here? All the borders are closed.” Christ. This just got so much more complicated. “I, uh, I don’t know.” I replied, very intelligently and eloquently. “Don’t worry!” He yelled, “I’m not going to turn you in! In fact, I admire your bravery! Okay–pretend this never happened. I have no idea you’re actually a fugitive who has no idea she’s actually supposed to be wearing red today. Hi, fellow Hearts person! I’m Sakuya! It’s a pleasure.” 

I laughed–thank God it had been his store I happened to be closest to. “Hi, Sakuya, I’m Seven. Seven of Sp- Hearts. Seven of Hearts.” “Hmm.” He said, “That’s kind of a weird name. But it’ll definitely help you stand out at the courting festival tonight!” “The what?” I asked, growing a little exasperated with the surprises I kept running into. “The courting festival!” Sakuya exclaimed. “Obviously you know that a mystic predicted that a girl would emerge out of the many citizens of all kingdoms meant to unite us all!” He winked. “She’s destined to marry a collection of court members of all the kingdoms!” “Yes..” I began, “Of course I know that!” I did not, in fact, know that. The Spades royals were never known for sharing their personal lives with the people. 

“Just because my memory fails me,” I said, “Which, um, which royals would these be?” “Court members.” Sakuya corrected quickly. “Nobody knows for sure. But, it’s definitely the Queen and Jack of Hearts. That’s why they’re the focus of the festival! They’re sure they can find the girl, and that she’s from Hearts. After all, love is kind of our thing! Right?” “Yes.” I nodded, smiling. “It definitely is. So that’s why everybody’s so dressed up?” I asked. “Yes, of course!” Sakuya returned my smile, “All the young, single citizens are required to attend. That means you now, too!” He seemed to realize mid-way through his sentence. “We need to find you something to wear, then! Unless, of course, you took a gorgeous red ball gown with you on your journey.” At that, I laughed. “No! Usually I would, but I just didn’t have enough room this time!” It was Sakuya’s turn to laugh. “Well then,” He stated. “Let’s see what we can find for you.” 

As I went through outfit after outfit, worry began to creep in. I had already planned to spend the night here, but now with the borders closed everywhere, and a mandatory festival, things became a lot more complicated within a very short span of time. Still, I had a job to do. I refused to be intimidated by some men set on finding a wife. That somehow made me angrier–that instead of closing borders because of conflict or a criminal, they closed them to try to control and track down some poor, unassuming girl. She had no idea that she was the reason that people were being kept from their jobs and families. Still, if I ever happened to run into her, I decided that she would be receiving one hell of a look. It wasn’t fair, but I resented this random chick. 

After what felt like hours, Sakuya finally handed me something that he said he had only just finished. “I’m not really sure if I like it,” he began, “I haven’t seen the way it sits when it’s worn yet.” “I’m sure it’s beautiful.” I reassured him. I slipped it on, and pushed the curtain of the small fitting room aside. You really ought to put a mirror in there, Sakuya. I can’t ev-""Seven!” He practically screamed, “It’s stunning! I’m a genius!” I let out a breath. “I told you it would look good.” I said. “Absolutely!” He jumped, “You have to wear it tonight! Please!” “I will,” I started, “But I can’t afford this. Sell it to a rich person.” I recommended it as I began to walk back into the dressing room. “No, Seven! Don’t you understand? If you’re there wearing that in front of like, the entire kingdom tonight, it’s free prime advertising! I couldn’t pay for better business!” “I don’t know…” I trailed off. “Please?” He asked, looking at me with a little pout. “Ugh!” I exclaimed, “Fine! I would be honored. Thank you, Sakuya. Really. Thank you.” He smiled. “Of course! I would do anything for you! After all, we’ve known each other for, like, an entire day.” I laughed, he laughed, and then he rushed off to get his own outfit ready. Tonight was definitely going to be exciting. 

Sakuya let me leave Cassie outside around the back of the store, and we decided to walk together down to the festival. He claimed the palace wasn’t too far, and he proved to be right. It didn’t take us long to approach the great, polished red gates. Luckily, there were too many people flowing in for anybody to care too much about exactly who was there and where exactly they were from, so getting inside wasn’t an issue. The crowd was large, but the hall was much larger, rising high over our heads in grand triangular arches. The walls were, of course, shades of red and pink, along with everything else in the kingdom. The color of Spades was blue, so seeing this much of another color was a surreal experience. 

“I should come here more.” I whispered to Sakuya, “It’s beautiful.” “Thanks!” He smiled, “We try.” “Where is the court?” I asked. “Shouldn’t they be announced for their own festival? “Not sure,” he shrugged, “They can be unpredictable at times.” I nodded. We walked around a little more, Sakuya occasionally greeting an old friend or client. Just as I began to grow a little bored, I decided that now would be a good time to use the bathroom–after all, it had been a while. “Hey, Sakuya” I turned to him, “Do you know where the bathroom is?” I asked. “Why would I know that?” He said. “I’ve never been here before! I’m from the Village.” “Okay! I’m sorry!” I laughed at his very spirited reply. “I’m gonna go find it myself.” I began to wade through the crowd, not really committing to any specific direction. My plan was to get to the edge of the crowd, and work my way along the walls. The worst that could happen would be that I end up back outside, and then I could just ask one of the guards. 

I stumbled into a pretty isolated corner, where only one man seemed to notice me. He looked a little older than I was, but still young. He looked a little feminine, but still very confident. Beautiful–that went without saying. His hair was pink, and fell perfectly below his ear. He wore a baby pink suit with a white collar underneath, and…a small crown on his head. Now, keep in mind, the people of Hearts love their fashion, so I didn’t think anything of this. Plenty of people had jewelry on their heads, so I figured he had just taken inspiration from the regal setting. 

“Hello.” He said softly as I made my way closer to him. “Your dress is…beautiful.” “Thanks.” I replied, never one to receive compliments. “Are you looking for the bathroom too?” I asked, and he started to laugh. It was such a pleasant sound. “No, I just wanted to step away from the crowd for a minute.” He smiled at me. “I knew it would be big, but not like this. The bathroom is probably absolutely full–I’ll take you to another one elsewhere in the palace. It’ll be a lot shorter of a wait.” “That’s very nice of you,” I said as I followed him farther down the halls of the magnificent building.”How do you know the palace so well?” He looked quite amused at that, and I just couldn’t figure out why he was getting such a big kick out of it. I figured I might’ve done something culturally incorrect or weird, but I was in too deep to explain myself now. Who cared if this breathtaking stranger thought I was weird? I had a job to do. 

“I live here.” He replied after a beat. “You..you live here?” I asked. “That’s amazing!” I gushed, “You’re so lucky. What did you do to get that arranged? Do you work here? “Where are you from?” He asked, evading my question. “Oh, the..the Village.” “No, really. Where are you from?” He asked again. “The Village!” I asserted, much more sure this time. He just smiled and shook his head. “You can use this bathroom. He said, and opened a large white door into an elegant white bathroom with vases of pink roses scattered about tastefully. “Think about my question more while you’re in there.” He said. “I would like a better answer once you’re done.”

I slipped in, and considered my options. I could lock myself in here all night, but who's to say he wouldn’t call some guards on me. I could burst out and make a run for it, but I probably wouldn’t make it that far. After careful thought, I decided to just alter my story. I would originally be from Clubs, but I moved to Hearts a month or two ago. That would explain my lack of cultural awareness, and completely distance me from Spades. Just as I reached for the door handle, I heard my stranger talking to another man.

“Jungwoo? What are you doing here? I’ve been looking all night for our girl and you’re here standing around?” “Oh please, Jisung.” Stranger, who’s name was apparently Jungwoo, replied. “I bet you’ve talked to three people at most.” “Three more than you have!” Jisung yelled back. “Actually,” Jungwoo began, “I think I’ve found her. And She’s listening to us right now. You can come out, I know you’re right next to the door.” Me? Was he talking about me? I opened the door. “What are you talking about?” I asked. I turned to see the man called Jisung. He was tall, and the opposite of Jungwoo. Masculine, with strong arms, but shy and timid. “You..you’re very pretty.” He said and looked away. “Is that all you’ve got to say, Jisung?” Asked Jungwoo. “I’m sorry,” Jisung blushed. “I’ve never really done this before. “Neither have I!” Jungwoo retorted, “But I still did better than that!” 

“What is going on!” I asked, much louder this time. “You didn’t tell her?” Asked Jisung. “Real Cassanova huh. We, um, well you know that this festival is so we can try to find the girl from the prophecy.” “We?” I asked. “Oh shit. We. You! I mean. You’re..” “I’m Queen Jungwoo.” He smiled and reached for my hand. “And I’m Jisung, Jack of Hearts. But didn’t you already know that?” He looked at Jungwoo. “Apparently not, Jungwoo replied, turning to look at me. “Who are you, and where are you from? Please, it’s very important that you tell the truth. After all, we might end up married to you soon. 

My cheeks turned about as crimson as my dress, and I stared at them incredulously. How did I end up here? I just needed to pee! “I…I’m Seven. Seven of Clubs.” “Seven?” Asked Jisung. “Not your status, your name. What’s your name?” “It’s Seven.” I said “It’s both–my status and my name. Makes it easier on everyone.” At that, Jungwoo let out an even bigger laugh than he had before. “You’re parents sound fun! I can’t wait to meet them!” He said, dragging me back down the hallway. “Yeah…” I began. I had to get out of here–I was a fugitive with a place to be by morning. This could mean terrible things, both for me and the Wang family. “Listen, my friend Sakuya is out there. I better tell him where I am–he’s probably worried sick!” I said, stopping in my tracks. “Oh don’t worry about that,” Jisung said from behind me, “We’ll have our people go inform him. He’ll be happy for you.” “Right.” I replied, already beginning to try and formulate my next escape plan. 

We kept walking, and eventually ended up in a large room of the same pink that covered the rest of the palace. White and red furniture was strategically placed around the space, making it feel like more of a comfortable seating area than a grand reception room. Couches were littered with plush pillows and soft blankets and paintings hung on every wall. Just as I was led to sit down on a comfortable white cushioned chair, I realized how dire this situation really was. I was a fugitive–worse, a fugitive with a job to do and a place to be. I was in the reception room of two of the most powerful people of Hearts. I could be sent back in a second, and who knows what kind of trouble I would have been in if I made it back there led by men in red uniforms. I had to find a way out of here, but it had to be smart.

“Listen, sirs,” I began, slowly trying to think of the perfect words, “I’m very flattered, and honored. Truly, I am. But I’m not your girl. I can’t be.” “Why not?” Asked Jisung, his demeanor suddenly became downtrodden. “And please,” added Jungwoo, “Call us by our names.” I had to choose my next words carefully–very carefully. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m not… a court member, or royal, or regal. I don’t know the first thing about politics! I stopped going to school when I was young–you’re looking for someone educated. Somebody beautiful and smart. Somebody who has the talent to bring people together! I can’t do that.” 

They stayed silent for a moment or two, breathing and looking at their shoes. Then, Jungwoo raised his head to look straight into my eyes. “Just…just give us a chance. You’re special, Seven. I can feel that. Spend the night. Have dinner with us. Please.” To this day, I still don’t know what came over me at that moment. “Okay.” I said, a small, shy smile blooming across my face. “But I’m sure you’ll see by the end of the night–I’m not your girl.” The two men glanced at each other, and Jisung shook his head at me. “Maybe.” He said, slightly insincerely. 

I had never experienced such luxury in my life. We had a complete meal of foods I couldn’t even name–vegetables and meats I’d never even seen in the Rocklands. We sat and discussed dreams and when the sky was prettiest–I said at sunset, but Jungwoo was adamant that the sunrise was truly the most gorgeous time. Jisung tried to teach me how to dance, at which my skills needed greatly improving. Jungwoo sang and clapped in the back, and for a moment–just a moment–I let myself believe that maybe I could be the girl of their prophecy. A princess. They made it seem so easy; laughing and yelling like boys from the countryside, despite rarely leaving a castle. I had never smiled so wide or clutched my side laughing like I did that night. 

Just as it grew time to get ready for bed, and the last festival guests trickled away, Jungwoo took both of my hands in his. Jisung stood next to him, his hand on Jungwoo’s shoulder. “Seven,” Jungwoo began, “When I first saw you wandering around the edge of the crowd, something about you caught my eye. After spending this evening with you, I’ve only grown more confident that you were meant to be the one to unite these kingdoms. Please, I’ll write to the others. I’ll send a messenger. Stay here with us, and meet them. You are what we need.” I grew sad, watching such a powerful person be so soft around me of all people. They had truly opened up to a person who did nothing but lie to them. Still, I couldn’t reveal myself now–the Wangs were waiting. 

“Let me sleep on it…please.” I whispered, looking down at the dark wooden floors. “Of course.” They said in near unison. “I’m going to go inform King Taeyong of our status–Jisung, would you mind leading Seven to our nicest guest room?” “Of course,” Jisung nodded, reaching to hook his arm with mine. “C’mon Seven.” “Goodnight!” Jungwoo called, disappearing down one of the identical corridors. “Night.” I exhaled, silently. 

“Here,” Jisung turned to face me after a few minutes of walking, “I hope you rest comfortably. I’ll see you in the morning.” I nodded, yet he didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he leaned in close to my face, looked into my eyes for permission, and when I closed my eyes in invitation, kissed me softly. After too short of a time, he pulled away, tucked my hair behind my ear, and whispered, “There’s an extra night robe in the drawer. I’ll see you in the morning, Seven.” Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and left me standing there outside the door, a single tear rolling down my cheek. A tear for what I could have, and for what I would rob them of. 

I tried to sleep for a few hours, but floated in and out of restlessness. After a while, I decided it would be better to escape sooner rather than later. I slipped my crimson gown back on, and instead of risking wandering the halls and being seen, elected to slip out of the grand window on the South side of the room. I don’t know how I remembered the path to Sakuya’s, but somehow I made it within the hour. Under the light of a nearly full moon, I gathered my brown dress in the pack with all my other materials for the journey, and hopped back into the saddle atop Cassie. We rode in silence as tears rolled down my cheeks, hugging the outer borders of the kingdom rather than pass straight through. 

Before we entered the woods again, I took a deep breath and stole one last look at where my home could’ve been. No–it wouldn’t have worked. They would have discovered who I really was, and where I truly came from. So really, I was protecting us all; the girl from the Rocklands, the kind dressmaker, and the two boys who almost wished to make her their whole future. 

Halfway through the woods, still under the cover of darkness, I changed back into my brown dress. I considered leaving my red one there, as a sign that nothing terrible had happened just in case they decided to come looking for me, but I figured that would invite more danger than peace. I also couldn’t stand to leave it behind. Both the gown, and the memories sewn into its very fabric. I was horrifically tired, and couldn’t tell how much farther I had to go. So, despite my better judgment, I decided to curl up against a tree–just for a little while. As my eyes fluttered shut, I mourned Jungwoo and Jisung, and silently prayed that they soon found the girl destined to be theirs.

A/N: Feel free to ask me any questions guys! I'd be happy to answer them! Next part will include Jeno and Xiaojun!

[haec-an]

written in the stars

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47665627

“Shh.” The siren pulled Mark towards him, breathing onto his skin, almost embracing him in a hug. “I can feel you thinking. Don’t stress, I can point you in the right direction back, don't worry.” The boy let his lips brush against Mark’s neck, almost teasing him with his touch. “That is of course unless you’d rather stay with me.” He giggled again, the sound swinging in the air like a melody.

Mark’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop when he heard the siren’s voice so close, he sounded like he needed to be devoured and his presence consumed him. Like the sun when it’s high in the sky, warmth touching wherever it can reach. “You’re so beautiful, you’re like…radiating.”

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in which mark hears a beautiful siren song for the first time and finds out he can be so much more than just a boy working for a rich town household.

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so i wrote something and would love to share it with you all?!

it’s a fic about haechan as a siren and mark as a human :]

[yumiyue07]

Until the Seventh Moon

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POV: K-idol x fem!reader

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30

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H/N parted from his father with barely a word, offering only a quick goodbye before disappearing into the house. His father lingered, brow furrowed as he stared at the empty space where his son had been. He remained behind, puzzled and a little concerned, watching his son vanish like a gust of wind into the night.

H/N didn’t slow down. The moment he reached his room, he called forth the enchantment that cloaked his most precious possession. The flute revealed itself to him, shimmering into existence where no one else could have seen it, drawn into his hand as if answering a silent call.

The moment his fingers wrapped around it, he felt the familiar surge of energy rushing through him, warm and powerful, flowing from his fingertips to the very tips of his hair. It embraced him like an old friend, like a part of his soul that had been waiting for this moment.

It must have been just after midnight. The village had long since fallen asleep, the streets silent and still. He weighed the risks but decided it was worth it—this night could not wait. There was no time left.

Flying would draw too much attention, even cloaked in magic. So he ran, swift as lightning, wind curling around his form, the world blurring around him.

Within moments, he stood at the lake’s edge.

It was empty, quiet, serene—just as he had hoped. A soft breath escaped his lips as relief settled over him. The cherry trees stood tall and graceful, their blossoms whispering in the night breeze. A few delicate petals floated across the lake’s glassy surface, drifting gently like small boats.

H/N could feel the anticipation rising in his chest, bubbling up until it tingled across his skin. His gaze lifted toward the heavens. The full moon, round and radiant, adorned with a delicate veil of clouds. Beside it, Venus gleamed brightly, a steadfast companion keeping silent watch.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, a small smile curling on his lips. “Just like you, my princess.”

His heart pounded with emotion, heavy with hope and memory. In just a few moments, he would see her again, feel her presence, hear her voice.

Tonight, the waiting ended. Tonight, everything would change.

H/N took his place on the small rock by the water’s edge, just as he had so many times before. His hands closed around the cool jade of the flute, grounding him—anchoring him in the present, even as his soul reached across realms.

“It will work. I’m going to save her,” he told himself, quietly but firmly. The words hung in the air between promise and prayer.

He drew a deep breath, steadying the storm within, and brought the flute to his lips.

The melody poured into the night—her melody. It was her favorite song, the one she had always loved, the one he had played until his fingers remembered it better than his own heartbeat. Yet now it carried something more: the weight of his purpose, the depth of his longing, the entirety of his love given voice through the rising and falling phrases. With each note, his heart spoke the words he had never been able to say. His breath, his soul, every fiber of his being merged with the tune.

The flute pulsed in his hands, glowing softly. The twin pendants, the crescent moon, and the recovered star began to shimmer, their light growing brighter with every rising note. Their light pulsed in time with the music, casting dancing reflections across the water's still surface. A gentle breeze stirred, curling through the trees. The cherry blossoms responded, their petals swirling in the air like whispers of magic.

The petals danced over him, spiraling down and scattering across the lake’s surface, creating ripples that mirrored the ones trembling through his heart.

H/N lifted his gaze toward the sky. The moon, his guiding light, began to glow. Its usual silver pallor deepened moment by moment, suffusing with the delicate blush of first dawn until it hung heavy and pink in the vault of night, its light falling upon the water like a pathway of scattered rose quartz.

It was happening. The sight sent his heart racing, each beat a thunderous proclamation of hope and fear and desperate anticipation. “Y/N.”

“H/N…”

Her voice echoed softly through the air, as clear and gentle as moonlight. Relief, sweet and overwhelming, flooded his veins, carrying with it the weight of years of longing finally answered.

“You made it.”

The words brushed against his mind, tender as a caress, and his heart swelled with a joy so profound it threatened to undo him. “My love,” he thought in reply, the words spilling from his soul with all the reverence of a prayer, “just as I promised.”

Then the night itself seemed to exhale. Silver stardust shimmered beneath his feet, swirling upward into the night sky. From the lake’s edge all the way to the moon, a celestial path began to unfold—glowing, radiant, and impossibly real. A bridge between worlds.

Without a moment’s hesitation, H/N stepped onto the stardust path. The melody still flowed from his flute, the music threading through the starlit path like golden wire through pearls.

He glanced down one last time—the sleeping village bathed in moonlight, the quiet lake cradled by cherry trees, petals floating peacefully on its surface.

But his heart was no longer tethered to Earth.

As he ascended, he reached a resting place—a soft cloud near the moon, glowing faintly under its light. He paused, eyes searching the horizon, his pulse a wild thing in his throat.

“Where is she?” he thought, scanning the gentle glow surrounding the moon.

As if in answer, pink stardust shimmered to life at the cloud's edge, curling toward the moon in a graceful arc. His breath caught as he followed its trail—

And there she was.

Emerging slowly from the moon’s radiant glow, her silhouette took shape—elegant, luminous, as if sculpted from moonlight itself.

Her eyes met his, and the universe stilled.

She was as beautiful as ever. The curve of her cheek, the starlight in her eyes, the way her very presence made the air hum with forgotten magic—she was more breathtaking than memory had dared preserve.

For the first time in years, they stood beneath the same sky.

His heart thundered in his chest, wild and unrestrained. His breath hitched, caught somewhere between disbelief and overwhelming joy. Every emotion he had buried, every memory he had clung to, surged to the surface in a tidal wave that threatened to drown him. Every whispered prayer in the dark, every night spent aching for this moment when she would be real again, solid and warm in his arms.

It was just like the first time he had seen her in the celestial palace gardens. And just as then, helplessly, inevitably, he fell in love all over again.

H/N lowered the flute with trembling hands, his gaze locked on hers. There were no words, there was no need for them. Only the quiet storm of emotion in her eyes—years of loneliness, of waiting, of love that had never dimmed.

Y/N stood frozen for a breathless moment, as if afraid to move, afraid that it might all disappear. Then she took one tentative step forward onto the stardust path… and another… and then she ran.

H/N barely had time to open his arms before she collided with him, her body fitting against his as though no time had passed at all.

She felt soft and real and warm, and he held her as tightly as he could, afraid to let go, afraid that if he loosened his grip even a little, she might vanish like a dream. She clung to him with the same desperation, her arms wrapped around him as though they could stitch the time and pain back together.

His face found her hair—familiar, fragrant, hers. He breathed her in, buried himself in the safety of her presence.

“Y/N…” he whispered into the hollow of her neck, his voice cracking. “You're here. You’re finally back with me.”

When he finally drew back, just far enough to see her face, his hands cradled her cheeks as though she were something precious, something sacred. Tears traced silver paths down her skin, catching the light like dewdrops on petals. They sparkled—tiny, glimmering diamonds, carved from all the lonely nights they had spent apart.

The sight of them sent a fresh ache through his chest. He never wanted her to cry again. Not now. Not ever.

“H/N…” Her voice, thick with tears, trembled in the still air. And yet, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. His name on her lips—his name, spoken with such reverence, such yearning.

“My love,” she choked out, her hands reaching to cradle his face, with a tenderness that made his chest constrict. “I thought…I truly believed I'd lost you forever.”

Her voice trembled, laced with fear, and it broke something inside him. H/N felt like he was being torn apart, the terror of near-loss carving through him anew. His thumbs traced the paths of her tears, brushing them away with reverent strokes, as if he could erase every moment of sorrow they'd endured.

“I’m here,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “And I swear to you, on every star in the sky, on every breath left in my body, I will never let you go again. We were always meant to find our way back.”

With gentle fingers, he wiped new tears from her cheeks, his thumbs lingering. Their eyes met, soul to soul, and in that single, silent moment, the moon, the stars, the very fabric of time seemed to pause, as if the universe itself was bearing witness to this reunion. Their bodies leaned closer, drawn together by a force neither of them could resist, even if they had tried.

H/N couldn’t wait another heartbeat and closed the distance between them

The first brush of his lips against hers was soft—a question, a promise, a prayer all at once. But then—

The fire ignited.

A spark, long smoldering in the depths of their souls, burst into flame. The kiss deepened, no longer careful but desperate, hungry, aching to make up for every lost second. Even the moon, still glowing a soft, pulsing pink, seemed to beat in time with their hearts.

H/N wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her flush against him. One hand clutched her waist, anchoring her to him, while the other caressed her cheek, as though she were something precious, something holy.

Y/N answered with equal fervor. One hand slipped into his hair, her fingers tangling at the nape of his neck, while the other fisted the fabric of his robe over his heart as if trying to hold him closer still.

He kissed her like he was starving for her, like she was air and he had forgotten how to breathe without her. And when they finally pulled apart, breathless and dazed, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “I love you with every fiber of my body, every piece of my soul. I belong to you. Always have. Always will. My place is by your side.”

Y/N’s answering touch was featherlight against his cheek, a whisper of stardust against skin. “And I love you,” she breathed, “with every thought that has ever stirred my mind, with every dream that has ever carried me through the darkness. There is no part of me that does not belong to you.”

Their smiles were like a sunrise after a long, bitter night. And before another word could be spoken, they melted back into each other’s arms, their lips finding one another again in a kiss filled with every promise they had ever made.

The fire that had ignited between them refused to be soothed by kisses alone.

H/N's lips trailed from her lips to the delicate curve of her neck, each kiss a reverent exploration, a rediscovery of terrain once known by heart. He lingered at the hollow of her collarbone, breathing her in—the salt of her skin, the faint floral sweetness that was hers alone. His hand cupped the swell of her breast, his touch achingly tender, yet charged with a need that threatened to unravel them both. He pulled her even closer, needing her, anchoring himself in her warmth as if she were the only real thing in the universe.

Y/N arched into him with a gasp, her fingers tightening in his hair. “H/N…”

His name on her lips, breathless and wanting, shattered the last remnants of his restraint.

They sank into the cloud together, lost in each other, their silhouettes cradled by the heavens.

His need for her surged—fierce, tender, overwhelming. With a flick of his fingers, he wove a shimmering magical veil around them, a protective shield of silver stardust that cloaked them from the world. This moment belonged to them alone.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the knot of her robe, pausing, giving her every chance to stop him. But Y/N only smiled, her cheeks tinged with a delicate pink as she slowly undid the belt of his robe in return. Her fingers brushed his chest, and he gasped softly at the feeling of her touch, so real, so right.

He kissed her again and again and again, as if trying to memorize her all over again. His mouth worshipped every inch of her skin, trailing lower with every kiss, every whisper of breath. She arched into him, her hands pulling him closer, her body answering every movement of his with aching need.

Y/N's moan curled into the night, a sound so sweet it sent lightning through his veins. H/N answered with a growl low in his throat, his hands mapping her body with a desperation that bordered on worship—every touch a prayer, every sigh a hymn.

“Y/N,” he murmured against her skin, voice rough with longing. “You are the most beautiful thing the stars have ever given me.”

“Ah… H/N…” Her hands clung to his back. “Don’t ever let me go.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his lips brushing her ear. “Not now. Not ever.”

They moved together beneath the glow of the full moon, wrapped in silk shadows and silver light, sharing the heat of their bodies, her nails scoring his back as he moved over her, in her, with her.

And when the crescendo came, when pleasure crested like a wave breaking upon the shore, it was with her name on his lips and his whispered devotion in her ear.

“Forever,” he promised, as their bodies stilled, as their breaths slowed. “This time, forever.”

Time unraveled around them. Each touch, each kiss burned deeper, branding the love that had never died. Their hands stayed entwined, their hearts beating as one, their bodies echoing the rhythm of a love too powerful to be forgotten.

They didn’t stop at once. Nor twice. Again and again, they found each other—like the tide returning to the shore, like the stars answering the call of night. They gave themselves over to the passion, to the ache of time lost, and the joy of time reclaimed.

And in the end, as the moon bathed them in soft silver light, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms—two souls reunited, woven back together under a sky that had waited far too long to witness their love again.

She lay in his arms, her head resting against the steady rise and fall of his chest. His fingers traced soft, soothing circles along her back, while his other hand remained interlaced with hers, their palms still warm from everything they'd shared. The cloud beneath them cradled them gently, wrapped in their robes like a shared cocoon, bathed in the tender glow of the moonlight.

H/N’s lips brushed the crown of her head, his voice a hushed reverence in the stillness. “I still can’t believe this is real,” he confessed, the words trembling with wonder. “That I get to hold you like this again.”

“I feel the same way,” she murmured, lips brushing his chest, right above his heart. A perfect echo. A promise in return.

“I’m sorry...,” his voice trembled with guilt, “for the years you waited. No, worse than that, I’m infinitely sorry that I couldn’t protect you back then.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Please, forgive me, my love.”

But Y/N only lifted her head, her eyes luminous with unshed tears—not of sorrow, but of a love so vast it could eclipse even time’s cruelest wounds. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said softly, her thumb brushing away the guilt etched into his brow. “You’re here. You’re safe. That’s all that matters. I’m just... so glad to have you back by my side.”

He stared at her, awestruck by her grace, her kindness, her strength. “Oh, my princess Y/N,” he breathed, lifting her chin gently with a single finger. “What have I done to deserve you?”

His lips captured hers in a kiss that spoke volumes—of devotion, of longing, full of aching love—as if he could pour every unsaid word into that kiss. A fire kindled between them once more, warm and wild, but Y/N gently pulled away, nestling against his chest instead. H/N didn’t press further. He simply tightened his arms around her, thinking she must be tired, savoring the quiet of her heartbeat against his, the warmth of her skin.

He was the first one to notice it—the horizon was shifting. The deep velvet of night giving way to the faintest brush of dawn.

“The sun will rise soon,” he said, almost absentmindedly, brushing his thumb along her knuckles. “Shall we make our way back to the palace?”

The moment the words left his lips, he felt it—her entire body tensing in his arms.

Y/N sat up slowly, the silken robe slipping like water over her shoulders as she gazed toward the lightning sky. Her expression was distant, troubled. When she turned to him, her eyes held a sorrow that sent ice trickling down his spine. “H/N…” she paused, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something you need to know.”

To be continued...

♡ Author's note

🌕🌸 They’re finally reunited!!! 🥹 A moment we’ve all been waiting for. So beautiful, so full of emotion...🥰 But wait, why is Y/N reacting like that? 👀 Something’s not right.

🌸 Fun fact: The real Pink Full Moon rose just last week on April 13th, and in the story, it’s also April, the very night they reunite under the pink moonlight. I wouldn’t call that a coincidence… I’d call it fate. 🌕💖

The grand finale is near. Part 32 coming soon.

Love, YumiYue 🌙

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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by ENHYPEN’s song “Moonstruck”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

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