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cinnajun · 2 years

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༻¨*:·. atlas cried | ljn

summary | they say your soulmate is your perfect other half—whatever you lack, they have, and whatever they lack, you have. when lee jeno, your academy’s golden boy, approaches you and says you’re his soulmate, you can’t begin to understand how he—rich, gorgeous, never had to work a day in his life—could be the perfect match for you—poor, exhausted, and barely hanging onto the scholarship covering what would be a 65 million won tuition.

genre | high school au (rich boarding school style), soulmate!au, prep!jeno x fem!reader, prep! jaemin & reader (platonic), angst, slow burn, enemies-ish to lovers, kind of academic rivals but in a way that the rivalry is created by other people, im ngl y/n and jeno just don’t like each other, fake dating? au

warnings | did someone say violent academic pressure, heavy isolation, abusive parenting, malicious rumors, everybody is so unhappy, a lot of miscommunication, internalized misogyny, suicide mention (in passing), arson

wc | 24.7k

a/n: hello and welcome to my first long piece ! i hope it's up to your standards :') i'm not sure how i feel about it, as i've never written anything this long so i'm scared there's continuity issues and whatnot. nonetheless, please send me your feedback !! p.s. here is a short playlist comprised of 10 songs i listened to while i wrote this :) p.p.s im sorry for any egregious typos/poorly worded sentences in the last ~9k words, i proofread all of them while i was really tired lol

ft. a few people i made up

i. during the titan war, atlas sided with his fellow titans in battle to defeat the olympians.

THE WIND HOWLED OUTSIDE YOUR DORM BUILDING, rattling the windows of your dorm room and nearly obscuring the study music coming from your speakers. The sky and the wind told of an incoming storm, which made you want to hurry to the cafeteria and get dinner before you were trapped inside. Your homework, however, drowned out the hunger pangs in your stomach and told you that the endless bags of chips hidden under your bed would make a fine dinner.

“You know, they say your soulmate shoulders the weight of the world with you,” your roommate, Suhyeon, sighed, capturing your attention and effectively destroying the deep focus you had on your homework.

“Ok. And?”

She turned over onto her side, a bored expression taking over her face. “Doesn’t that seem scary?”

“I guess?”

“Would you want to share all your problems with someone else? Like, every single one?”

You resisted the urge to strangle her, as well as the urge to remind her that she does not have to keep a top five spot in her class in order to continue going to school. Instead, you spun your desk chair to face her bed, where she lay, staring at your plain white ceiling.

“Want to go get dinner?”

“With this wind? That sounds dreadful,” she replied, looking at you with a bored face. Then, with a sigh, she pushed herself up from the bed and swung her legs over the edge. “I’m not in the mood for another three bags of honey chips.”

To that, you’d have to agree. For the past three-and-a-half days, you and Suhyeon had eaten three bags of chips for dinner, as you were trapped with your head in your textbooks and Suhyeon refused to go to the dining hall without you (according to her, it would look weird to eat alone, and you were her only friend on campus).

“If I had to guess, we’ll be getting a day off tomorrow,” Suhyeon said, swiping her set of keys off her mostly unused desk. You stood up, cringing at the sound of your back cracking as you stretched. Your legs ached from how long you’d been sitting, as well as your back, but that wasn’t nearly as bad as the cramps you felt in your knees. Suhyeon grabbed her coat off the coat hook bolted to your door, slipping it over her uniform and zipping it up promptly.

You shuffled over and did the same, preemptively sliding the hood up so you could begin situating your hair under it. Suhyeon swung the door open and you obediently followed, emerging into the monotonous corridors of the dormitory.

“Are we due for blizzarding?”

“Yes ma’am.” Suhyeon nodded, swinging her arms back and forth as she half-skipped down the hall. “It’s not cold enough today, but, if it storms tonight, I bet we’ll wake up to a classes-have-been-canceled email.”

You sighed, wondering what that would mean for your math exam that you’d been slaving over for the past week and a half. It was the final midterm until you were granted a week off, which you and Suhyeon had excitedly planned to be spent entirely in your bedroom. If there was a snow day, you hoped your teacher would simply postpone it for Friday, rather than move it after the break altogether.

You opened the door to the stairwell, allowing Suhyeon to pass by you and get a head start on the stairs. You quickly followed, wishing you’d done your usual study-stretch schedule today. Your legs nearly gave out as you tried to stay caught up with your roommate, and you were shocked that you managed to make it to the first floor without falling down a flight of stairs.

Another strong gust of wind rattled the building, and you wondered if it was exactly a good idea to make a break for the dining hall.

Suhyeon let out a loud groan, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I hate the second year-dormitory,” she announced, slowing to a stop in front of the first pair of doors to the outside. “Why do the first years have the indoor path to the dining hall? If anything, they should be the ones in the old, rickety dorms.”

“There’s nothing happy about second year, though. If they put all the depressing stuff halfway in, it won’t be as easy to drop out,” you said, taking the chance to run outside the moment the wind let up a bit. Suhyeon followed close behind you, catching up enough to lace an arm around yours as you ran through the school courtyard.

You practically bulldozed into the dining hall as another burst of wind began, which ended up with you and Suhyeon having to push the door closed as if you were trying to move a broken-down car. The door shut with a satisfying lock, leaving you in the entryway room that consisted of four doors and absolutely nothing else.

Suhyeon sighed, pushing through the second set of doors. The moment they opened, you were hit with the strong smell of spaghetti, which made the hunger pangs worsen substantially. Despite the time, the dining hall was mostly empty, save for a few groups who’d opted to spend their after-school time in there and any third years or first years who’d decided they were hungry.

They didn’t have to make a mad dash across campus to arrive without being blown away. In fact, none of them were even wearing any sort of rain gear.

“Oh god,” Suhyeon mumbled as you approached the serving counter, picking up two trays from the stack they had at the edge.

“What?”

“Golden boys are here.”

You looked up from your tray, turning your head to scan the cafeteria. Sure enough, all six of the golden boys—as they were called—sat at a table in the corner of the room, books littered across the table alongside bowls of spaghetti and an enormous amount of garlic bread. They seemed to be having a good time, laughing and making up essentially all the noise that rattled the room. Suhyeon always told you that there were seven of them, but one had the misfortune of taking a transfer year to some “partner school” off in Shanghai this year, and last year he was still a middle schooler.

You thought the seventh boy might’ve been a ghost that you couldn’t see, though.

One of the cafeteria ladies put a hefty bowl of spaghetti on your plate, along with an oddly gourmet-looking piece of garlic bread. There was a self-serve salad bar and dessert bar further down, but you weren’t too interested in having any of it for right now.

“Awe, they’re sitting a few tables down from our usual spot,” Suhyeon mumbled, stopping to grab a bowl of salad. You waited behind her, staring at the distance between their table of madness and your quaint corner. They were sitting adjacent to the window, likely to survey the weather, and your two-person table was situated in a corner between a false wall that separated the eating area from the first-year entrance. There were about six tables, give or take, between you and them.

“We’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re right next to them,” you said, turning towards her. She was finishing up her salad, placing the bowl on her unbalanced tray, and attempting to get it stable with her now-free other hand. You took that as your chance to begin your stroll to the table, with Suhyeon nervously following behind.

For some reason, she did not like the oh-so-famous golden boys. Any time they entered the conversation, she went silent, and always ended up throwing off the momentum of the conversation with her anxiety; when you tried to ask her about it, she always got defensive, saying she has “nothing to do with them” and “doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

You allowed her to take the corner spot, frowning as she shoved herself into the corner and began picking at her food with her fork. You wondered if it was mean to do this when she so obviously had an issue with it, even if she insisted she didn’t.

“We can sit somewhere else…”

“No, you’re right,” Suhyeon cleared her throat, shaking her head. “It’s not like we’re right next to them. I’ll be fine.”

You took another look at her hidden in the corner, recognizing that she was not going to be fine, but you didn’t push any further. If you had to guess, the last thing she wanted to do was have you make a big deal about her discomfort.

You both ate quietly and quickly, hoping to finish before the oncoming storm hit. Due to the lack of conversation between you two, courtesy of the golden boys being twenty-ish feet away, it wasn’t hard to get through nearly the entire meal within a few seconds.

Your silence also made it quite easy to hear what the golden boys were talking about at their table, added to how easy it was to see them from the corner of your eye.

“I heard Nayeong say we’re getting tomorrow and Friday off,” Zhong Chenle reported, taking a long drink of his water. “They’re just waiting to make it look like it was a last-minute decision.”

“Wow, student council president certified? Must be true, then,” Na Jaemin replied, turning to Lee Donghyuck, who was dejectedly scrolling through his phone. If you had to guess, he’d struggled with the English exam that had taken place earlier that day, seeing as he was notoriously good at Japanese and nothing else. “What's gonna happen with the big math midterm tomorrow, then? I don’t want it to be after break, I’d seriously rather die.”

Donghyuck barely glanced up from his phone before answering. “Rumor has it they’re gonna proctor it in the dorm study rooms. Separate everyone into time slots and stuff. They’re doing it for the third and first years, too.”

Chenle groaned, letting his head dangle on the edge of his chair. Mark Lee, student council vice president and perhaps the second most adored student in the school, didn’t comment on their rumor-spreading. You expected him to be the one they relied on most for information, but

You raised your head slowly, looking over at their table. Mark Lee didn’t comment because he was staring straight at you.

Suhyeon noticed your staring, following your eyesight towards Mark, who was now staring lasers through your head. She dropped her chopsticks into the mostly empty bowl, standing up from her chair suddenly. The movement, along with the clattering of metal, scared you, causing you to snap your head back towards her.

“I don’t feel good.”

Her face was turning pale and her eyes began to water, which was considerably uncharacteristic for her. You looked up at her, glancing down at your half-finished spaghetti and garlic bread. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Can we go back to the dorms, now?” she asked, placing a hand on her chest. “I feel really nauseous.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, standing up. “We can just leave the plates. Let’s go.”

You glanced over at the golden boys’ table, which had gone quiet. Mark was whispering something to Lee Jeno, who was also staring at you now, arms crossed over his chest and blonde hair (when he showed up blonde at the beginning of the year, everybody lost it) wisped over his forehead.

Gently, you wrapped a hand around her shoulder, hugging her to your side as you made a swift departure from the cafeteria. You got odd looks from other students, but, for the most part, nobody got in the way of your exit. You emerged straight into the dangerous wind, not stopping despite how much it threatened to blow you away.

Being out of sight of the golden boys took a huge weight off your shoulders, one you didn’t know was there. Sometimes you garnered looks given your well-known scholarship student title, but that was mostly from first years who were shocked that could even happen. As far as you were aware, you had nothing to do with the golden boys—not even something as simple as a group project or anything.

Had you done something wrong? Were your grades slipping? Was there something going on concerning your scholarship? The wave of questions washing out your mind was causing you to feel nauseous; you didn’t want Mark Lee looking at you like that. You didn’t want any one of them looking at you like that.

You practically threw the dormitory’s doors open, dodging past anyone who might’ve been in your way. You couldn’t get Mark Lee’s stare out of your mind, because it was unexplainable, because it was unprompted, because it could mean you’d be kicked out of the academy and sent back to your terrible parents who would berate you for forever, telling you that you’re worthless and no better than your freeloading, addict siblings.

You skid to a stop in front of the dorm’s nursing office, knocking three times and not waiting for a response. You pushed Suhyeon inside, grabbing the dorm keys from her jacket pocket and giving the resident nurse an unnerved look.

“She’s not feeling well,” you explained, giving Suhyeon no time to protest you dropping her off in the nurse’s office. Instead, you practically slammed the door shut, staring at the monotonous wood for a moment more.

Your heart was pounding. Your mind was spinning. You could barely breathe.

Quietly, you turned towards the end of the hall, where the stairwell waited for you to climb it. Suddenly, it occurred to you that there was a slim chance you could be climbing it for the last few times beginning today.

As you approached, you wondered what your siblings would do if you lost the scholarship. They’d laugh at you, sneer, and say “I thought you were supposed to be the perfect child?” They’d watch as your parents struck you, yelled at you for being worthless and nothing better than the rest of them. They’d force you to kneel on rice while they “mourned” the loss of their shot at wealth, asking you why you didn’t sleep around with the student body to try and ensure a husband.

“You’ll never be this pretty again,” they would say. “Who cares about your soulmate? Will a soulmate bring you money? Comfort? Look at what happened to your father and I when we chose each other over wealth. Do you want to be like us?”

You slammed the door of your dorm shut behind you, falling onto your knees. You realized that you’d never turned your study music off, or your lights, or anything before you’d left for the dining hall.

You looked down at your arms, letting yourself hold up your right hand. There, in the very center of your palm, was a code that you’d memorized the moment you began to comprehend it: LJN.

You picked yourself off the floor, suppressing the panic tears that threatened to spill over. Instead, you approached your desk, dropping down onto the chair and shoving your math textbook out of the way. You instead chose to focus on the human biology book, long and heavy, that sat underneath it. Weakly, you flipped through the pages, stopping on the first page of a chapter entitled “Soulmates: Biology’s Biggest Mystery.”

The first paragraph read, “the concept of soulmates has long been a pillar of human society. The existence of a ‘soulmate marking’ has purportedly been around since the beginning of time, but the earliest recordings of it come from ancient Mesopotamian tomes depicting a ‘perfect other half’ that ‘completes the human body.’"

You must’ve tattooed these words on your brain when you were studying, but, even then, you couldn’t help but feel mystified every time you read through it. You never cared too much about the whole soulmate craze, considering you were still a teenager and didn’t need to care about “forever” yet, but there was always a sort of comfort that you found in it. The existence of your soulmate confirmed that you would not be chained to your parents for the rest of your life, and, one day, you’d be able to leave them behind for a better, happier life.

You read on, tracing the words of the chapter with your index finger.

“Around 97% of the population have a set of initials written somewhere on their body, one that they’re born with. Their soulmate will have a marking on the same part of their body with the coinciding set of initials. There have been no instances of these initials changing, even upon the death of one’s soulmate, meaning the connection is entirely permanent.”

There was someone out there who would pull you out of this. You were sure of it.

And, when that happened, your life would truly begin anew.

ii. the titans lost the war, and the olympians banished the titans to tartarus.

From beginning to end, your math midterm was a mess.

Sure enough, classes were canceled, but they proceeded with finishing things up before your week-long break began and all information previously learned left your mind. You’d been placed in a 3:30 time slot to take your exam, along with about 15 of your classmates, in the dormitory study room that you’d never once step foot into.

Upon arrival at 3:10, you were faced with the sad truth that both Huang Renjun and Lee Jeno were also in your time slot. Initially, you avoided their gaze, shrinking into the corner of the lounge and hiding behind your phone and wired earbuds. But, you were learning the world would never be kind to you because, the moment Lee Donghyuck emerged from the 1:30 time slot, he had a perfect view of you.

You subconsciously tried to hide once more, hunching down and allowing for your hair to fall over your face. You increased the volume of your music, a random, synthy song you’d fallen in love with some time last week, and tried to ignore how Lee Donghyuck’s gaze made you feel like an internationally wanted criminal.

Once they took note of you, the staring did not cease. Lee Donghyuck left for his dorm while you waited for your proctor to announce things were ready (which happened about a minute and a half after Donghyuck left).

You ripped your earbud out when you saw her appear out of the corner of your eye, jerking up to look at her and wishing your heart would stop beating so fast. “There’s assigned seating, which I will call out now. When you hear your name, please sit behind the person last called. If that person is sitting in the very back, please begin the next row in the front.”

Huang Renjun was called third, which took a small weight off your shoulders. That didn’t stop Jeno from looking at you, stealing glances and sometimes blatantly staring with those terrifyingly cold eyes of his.

“[First] [Last].”

You nearly tripped over your feet getting up, leaving your small bag along with your cell phone and earbuds on the chair you sat waiting on. You held your pen and pencil so tightly in your hand that your knuckles were pale, and you must’ve looked sick to the proctor, given the look she offered you as you passed beside her.

Your eyes narrowed in on the empty seat behind the last girl that was called—the student council secretary, Yeji—and you swiftly approached, half-returning the smile Yeji gave as you walked past.

Huang Renjun was one seat behind you and two rows over, meaning he would barely be able to see you. If you were lucky, Jeno would be the first to start his row, meaning he would be in front of you and therefore it would be impossible for him to look at you.

You weren’t sure why you still relied on luck when pretty much all of it was wasted when you got into this godforsaken school on a scholarship.

The proctor called an Osaki Shotaro, who came and took the seat behind you. Then, a Kim Juyeon who began the next row. Then, a Liu Yangyang who sat next to you.

“Lee Jeno.”

You could’ve shot yourself right then and there, especially as he sauntered over to the seat, dropping into it and immediately beginning to spin his pencil around his fingers. You could practically feel his stare like lasers being shot through the back of your head, unending and unwavering as the proctor called the final girl and shut the door behind her.

“Thank you for arriving smoothly and on time.”

You wished you would have skipped. Skipping might’ve cost you your scholarship and your future, but, if you got Suhyeon on your side and claimed you’d woken up severely ill but couldn’t make it to the nurse because Suhyeon had the 10:30 time slot and you woke up at 11, you might’ve been able to make it to the makeup date.

If only God had been kind enough to warn you about this one.

The proctor began to hand out your answer sheets and tests while droning on and on about rules, her words going in and out of your ears like the pointless documentaries your history teacher enjoyed showing. As if you hadn’t taken five of these exams already, she regurgitated these rules, causing your mind to spin more and your leg to bounce harder.

“You may begin.”

You barely began at all. For the entire test, your mind wasn’t focused on derivatives or any sort of equation you’d spent weeks memorizing—no, your mind was focused on Lee Jeno, Mark Lee, all the golden boys, and why they were suddenly so focused on you. You wrote down numbers and letters, plus signs and square roots, all while thinking about what they could want from you.

With every page flip, with every boxed answer and filled-in bubble, your mind fell deeper and deeper into your panicked trance. At some point, you began writing on autopilot with no mental capacity to tell whether or not what you wrote was correct. A part of you wondered why you cared so much when you were obviously about to become the first-ever scholarship student at the academy to lose their scholarship, to be the first investment that brought a net loss instead of a net gain.

Before you knew it, the test was over, and it was 5:15 pm on the dot. You felt like throwing up, a million spiders crawling up your stomach and throat as you stared at what you wholeheartedly believed to be a failed math test. Your mind spun—math had always been your worst subject, and you’d always teetered on the edge with it. As long as you excelled in other subjects, you’d be fine, but there was an absolute need to ensure you did not fall below rank five.

As long as you were never below five, you would be fine.

The proctor snatched your test up from your desk, taking a once over with a smile. “Congratulations on finishing, Ms. [Last],” she said, a formality she’d repeated to everyone but carried a special weight when she spoke to you.

You wanted to reach for it, take it back and run away with the paper. You couldn’t remember a single question you’d answered, let alone whether or not the answers were right. This would be the first (and last) time you’d drop below rank five in your exams, and you’d be packing up your bags when the grades dropped next week. This was the end of your paradise, all thanks to a few awry looks from the academy’s beloved golden boys.

“All papers have been collected. You are free to return to your dorms,” the proctor announced, placing the stack on her desk. You lingered on for a moment, staring at your hands and focusing on the pressure that weighed your shoulders down every waking moment of the day.

Once, Suhyeon was trying to get you to go shopping with her while you were studying. You refused vehemently, citing your grades as the reason why you couldn’t watch her spend thousands upon thousands on clothes she’d never wear while you cringed at every price tag you saw.

With one of her usual, airy sighs, she collapsed onto her bed, mumbling a hollow statement that stuck in your mind: “[First] [Last], forever crushed by the weight of the world.”

Your self wallowing was cut off by Lee Jeno stopping in front of your desk, looking down at you with his terrible cold stare. You returned his focus, fighting off the urge to curl into yourself and tell him to never speak to you again.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets. “I’ll meet you in the library at 8.”

You gave him a look that could only be described as confusion, tilting your head at the notion.

“The library closes at 5 tonight.”

“Does that matter to me?”

He scoffed a bit, not paying you another second. Instead, he sauntered off with Huang Renjun, who gave him a steady slap on the shoulder as he walked out. Renjun followed behind, saying, “You’ve got guts now, huh?” while continuing to hammer on his shoulder and laugh at his “guts.” All you could do was slowly lift yourself from your desk chair, thinking about what you would do upon your return to Jinhae-gu. What your ex-classmates, who’d screamed and cried with you when you received your scholarship notice in the middle of the school day, would say when you walked in, a husk of your former self.

What you’d do when you saw your parents and siblings again.

“Ms. [Last], now that exams are over for second years, I suggest you stop by Miss Choi’s office as soon as possible. I know how much pressure you’re under to retain such perfect grades,” the proctor said, causing you to be torn away from your mind once again.

You smiled weakly at her, nodding. “I will, ma’am. Thank you for your concern.”

“It’s no issue, sweetheart,” she said, dropping a hand onto your shoulder. “We all want to see you succeed.”

You bowed at her as a way to get her to stop touching you, rushing out of the classroom. You’d rather die than go see Miss Choi, who picked you apart too easily in your opinion. You didn’t like the way she seemed to know how you were feeling, how she tried to teach you how to carry the world, because Miss Choi—an alma mater of the academy by paid tuition and not by scholarship—would never know what this felt like, even if she followed you around for three months straight.

With your bag retrieved, you began your march up the stairwell, a new anger brewing in your heart. When you were gone, when there was a lack of honor student to bring up in the interviews and magazine features, when you worked up the nerve to post a forum piece on how the academy destroyed any bit of happiness you had, they’d understand that this wasn’t just academic pressure.

Suhyeon was right—you were forever crushed by the weight of the world because nobody else here wanted to carry their weight and believed there was no one better suited to pick it up other than you.

iii. tartarus was a deep abyss used as a prison for the titan gods,

“You can’t go out right now, the weather is too awful,” Suhyeon insisted, scrambling to reach for your keys. You grabbed them before her, dropping them in the pocket of the jacket you’d draped over your lounge clothes. “It’s dark and the snow is barreling down, [First]. Where could you possibly go right now?”

You bit your lip, staring down at her. She was dressed in her pajamas, practically ready for bed by this point, with a matching Hello Kitty pajama set and a headband pulling her hair away from her face. A pair of glasses sat low on the bridge of her nose, sliding down further the more she tried to discourage you from leaving.

“I just want to take a walk. It stopped snowing a while ago, so there’s no barreling down happening, and I have my snow boots on. Everything should be fine,” you insisted, slipping your gloves on. Suhyeon went to stand in front of the door, blocking your exit to the outside and further delaying your meet-up with Mr. Perfect.

“Promise you’ll be back before room checks.”

You sighed. If whatever Lee Jeno needed to speak to you about was important, he must’ve put something in place to ensure you wouldn’t get in trouble for missing room checks, but you couldn’t be sure. You nodded, waving her out of the way.

“I’ll be back before room checks. Swear on it.”

Uncomfortably, Suhyeon stepped away from the door, allowing you to pass without a word. You slipped out of your room, giving her one last glance before you shut the door behind you and isolated yourself in the dorm corridor. It was cold—everything was cold—and dark, with dim LEDs illuminating the hall floors and nothing else providing any sort of light. It was akin to that of a movie theater's stairs—just lit up enough that you could make it down the stairs without plunging to your doom.

You made your way to the stairwell, cringing as your shoes clicked against the wood of the stairs. You hoped that Jeno had done anything to protect you from the wrath of the late night staff, but you wondered if getting caught meant anything when you’d be gone in a week.

The dorm’s common area (or, more simply, the first floor) was completely devoid of everyone, as aligned with the school rules, which said no students should be out of their rooms past 7:30 on a weekday to avoid issues with student health or student safety. Room checks began at 9, which essentially meant you could be out and about until then, but nobody wanted their parents finding out they were screwing around instead of studying.

You took no time in crossing the common room, weaving through tables and couches in hopes that a teacher didn’t appear and tell you to get back to your room before this “hurt your future,” as they liked to tell you. When the doors to the dorm opened, you could’ve sworn you felt your heart drop into your feet—but, the doors opening did not yield a teacher or any staff member.

It yielded Na Jaemin.

Upon seeing you, he gave you a cordial smile and a nod. Jaemin was Lee Jeno’s second-in-command, his beginning and his end. From what you’d heard from classmates, they’d grown up together, being neighbors from the day they were born and being friends from the day they could speak. You barely saw one without the other, and you couldn’t lie when you said part of you was expecting Jaemin would be in the library along with Jeno tonight.

“Good evening, [First],” he greeted. You offered him an uncomfortable nod back, accompanied by an unsure smile and your shaking hands. “Library’s unlocked.”

You blinked a couple of times, suddenly clueless as to what he was talking about. Na Jaemin was blinding, from the way he smiled at you to the way he even looked at you.

“Ah, um, thanks,” you said, coming to your senses. “Sleep well, or something.”

Jaemin chuckled, nodding. “You too. Good luck!”

He passed by you without another glance, another word, disappearing into the men’s side of the second-year dorms. You watched his figure retreat for a moment, wondering if you’d run into any other golden boys on your way to the library. You hoped Jaemin was the only one.

As you emerged into the cold, night air, stepping onto the snow and sinking in almost immediately, you now found yourself focused on your brief interaction with Na Jaemin.

A while back, you’d heard that he didn’t have a soulmate.

You were just starting out, and, given the nature of your enrollment at the school, you’d had a slight amount of popularity. People hung around you with the idea that you’d somehow trick them into good study habits and unrivaled intelligence (to be honest, people still do), and that inevitably came with you hearing whatever gossip traveled around your class at the time.

“You know Na Jaemin? The boy who started this year and immediately made it in with Mark Lee’s crowd?” a girl asked you, sliding into your study table at the library. Instantly, she’d caught the attention of the other three students who asked to study with you, drawing them away from the math worksheet you were all working on. “Ah, [First], Mark Lee and his crew have been attending the academy since elementary school, so they kinda own the place. They never let anybody in with them until Na Jaemin.”

Upon hearing that, you’d mostly been impressed that somebody could afford that many years of tuition here, let alone send their child into academic hell from the moment they’d learned to read. Suhyeon hadn’t told you that she’d also lived the same life, yet, so this was your first exposure to what most students called the “originals” of the academy.

“He doesn’t have a soulmate.”

A sort of surprise settled in around the table, given how rare it was to be born soulmate-less. There was a “no way” thrown out, along with a couple of gasps of disbelief. You’d felt bad for him, wondering what it was like to live in a world where (mostly) everybody but you had a universally-fated life partner.

Your tablemates didn’t seem to think similarly to you.

“God, my mother would be overjoyed if I was soulmateless,” one of your classmates, Chaeyeon, hummed, leaning back on her chair and resting her elbow on the back of it. You turned to her, shocked that was her first reaction upon hearing about Na Jaemin’s soulmateless-ness. “He must be the golden child of his family.”

“He’s the youngest, too, so he was inevitably going to be the kid they married off. That’s one less person they’ll need to pay off.”

Na Jaemin, whether the rumor was true or not, was your way of finding out that rich people often trapped their younger children in loveless marriages, and paid off their soulmates to keep them from ever forming a relationship. They’d even had a saying for it: “An accomplished father’s best child is the child who can marry for money with no regrets.”

It horrified you because that was how your parents thought. You couldn’t imagine a life where everybody, not just your parents, thought that way.

As quietly as you could, you pushed the door to the library open, finding yourself in the sprawling lobby you were so acquainted with. Despite the academy being a lower grade school, the library was the kind that you’d find articles on and the kind where people would travel just to see it.

Usually, it was locked to the high heavens when it was closed due to its extensive collection of books no high schooler needed to read, but tonight was different. You wondered if Mark stole the keys from Nayeong and gave them to Jeno.

You shuffled towards the stairs, wondering if Lee Jeno was going to make you search for him. Your heart began pounding in your chest once again, thoughts of expulsion (losing your scholarship wasn’t technical expulsion, but it might as well have been) and disappointing everyone you know with a simple 89 on a math test.

The second floor was completely dark, which was creepier than you wanted it to be. Assuming Jeno wasn’t waiting for you in a pitch-black room, you continued up the stairwell, telling yourself Jeno wasn’t going to inform you of your impending doom despite the fact that he was a student, and that he wasn’t even on the student council.

You couldn’t imagine whatever else he wanted to talk to you about, though. You weren’t in the same sphere, hell, even in the same universe as each other—he hung around the golden boys and nobody else, breaking every rule the school had to offer and using his father’s name as an excuse. You hung out with the kids who lived closer to the bottom (whatever bottom meant at this god-forsaken school), the kids whose grades had a real impact on them rather than the ones who went to school to say they did.

The third floor was also completely dark but gave way to the dim lighting that lit up the fourth floor. For some reason, Lee Jeno had decided to taint your preferred study floor with whatever he had to tell you, but you supposed he had no clue that it was your usual study spot. After all, you were in different universes.

Taking the final few steps up to the fourth floor, you noticed that, while it was illuminated, there was no sign of Jeno anywhere. The lights were on and it was dead silent, with not a single movement or noise to even hint at another person being inside; but, from the way one of the tables had its chairs sprawled about and from the light smell of coffee, you could tell people had been in here recently.

If you had to guess who, it was the rest of the golden boys, given your run-in with Jaemin in the lobby of your dorm. You wondered where the rest of them went, particularly Donghyuck and Renjun, who hadn’t ventured through the lounge of the second-year dorm—hopefully, they weren’t still here, as the emptiness was somewhat calming.

You decided to venture further into the fourth floor, walking past the proof-of-life table and entering the rows upon rows of shelves. The fourth floor was the most academic, being the quietest at any given time. Nobody liked scaling four flights of stairs with the sole purpose of studying, so the only people who did were the ones who wanted to avoid the quiet yet prominent chatter on the lower floors.

And the golden boys apparently, but only past closing.

The silence of the room made your heart slow down to a calmer rate, as well as making any panic you were previously feeling dissipate. You were sure that, the moment you found Jeno, it would resume where it left off, but you were grateful for these few moments of calm before the storm you were about to step into.

You continued walking through the shelves, scanning the book’s spines and their titles as if you hadn’t seen them nearly every day for the past two years. You allowed the tips of your fingers to brush along the many different textures and indents of the well-loved books before you. If you were truly at the end of your time here, you ought to write a love letter to this library, thanking it for the countless hours you spent reading and learning in hopes that you, one day, would be a peer of the people around you and not just a spectacle.

At the edge of the shelves, there was another small clearing of desks and then a couple of couches that most students used to take naps during finals season, and that's where Lee Jeno waited for you. The moment you appeared from the woodwork, he noticed you, staring at you from the corner of his eye.

“I was thinking you weren’t going to come,” he said offhandedly. You furrowed your brows, pulling your phone out of your pocket—it was 8:17. You hadn’t even noticed how slowly you were traveling, seeing as you left your dorm at 8:03.

As you’d expected, your heart had begun beating out of its chest, and you, once again, began to prepare for the worst. You slowly approached the couch adjacent to him, sitting down as slowly as you could. You sat like a board, stiff and nervous, waiting for him to explain himself even in the slightest.

Instead, he leaned over to the coffee table in front of you, pushing a small coffee cup towards you. You stared at it for a second, confused and a bit freaked out, but you picked it up nonetheless, thankful he’d thought to get you something warm. He continued to sit in silence, leaving you with a couple of moments to study him thoroughly.

Before today, you’d never really looked at him. Sure, you’d given him a couple of nervous glances, but there was something about Lee Jeno that made you feel inferior. He was the son of a major CEO, one of the biggest conglomerates in all of Korea (and maybe even Asia), somebody you would’ve never even dreamed of meeting three years ago. He was above the rules of the school, above the rules everywhere, dangling his parents’ name and a wad of cash above anyone who tried to tell him no.

His hair was bleached blonde, but it seemed so healthy that you could’ve mistaken it for his natural hair color if you hadn’t known any better. He’d shed all his snow-protectant layers, which were sprawled out along the remainder of the couch next to him. Despite the lack of need for it today, he was dressed in his usual uniform—a black blazer, white turtleneck, and black and green plaid pants—which was a blatant violation of the dress code due to the lack of a polo shirt, but you’d never see him get in trouble for it. He sat with an aura of regality that you could only try and imitate, with his leg lazily crossed over the other and his arm resting on the back of the couch. In his other hand was a cup of coffee like yours, but his was so hot that it was steaming from the lid’s opening.

“I didn’t know your last name until Mark told me,” he finally said, taking a sip of his burning hot coffee. You mimicked his movements, taking a sip from your own, trying to fight off any physical reaction to the bitterness of it.

“What do you mean?”

Jeno sighed, holding up his hand. You stared for a moment, narrowing your eyes in an attempt to make out the small letters on his palm. Then, all too quickly, the truth flooded your mind—the initials on your hand, LJN, and the initials on his, your very own set.

It shocked you so bad that you nearly dropped the cup of coffee. The reveal did nothing to soothe your nerves and, instead, amped up the panic a lot more. Your head spun at the thought, and, while you hated to say it, all you could think about was the negatives.

What would your parents say when they found out your soulmate was Lee Jeno, of all people? The son of a CEO-and-politician, the son of a man who drowned in money, a person who was born rich and would die rich? They’d never leave you alone once finding out, demanding check after check to ensure they never said a word about their relation to the Lees. They’d torment you for the rest of your life, and you’d forever be stuck under their reign of terror, forever their child, forever their moneybag.

On top of that, you’d never have an accomplishment that was fully tied to you again. People would see you as a connection, and they’d give you opportunities based upon that connection rather than based on your natural ability. You’d be respected because of who your soulmate was, not because of who you were, and you’d end up like the women you saw on TV—lifeless dolls with the title of “wife” and nothing else.

You thought meeting your soulmate was supposed to be this fateful encounter under the stars, the moment where you met the one person who would love you most. You expected to be mystified, sent to a world of love and comfort, sent to a world where your problems were nonexistent and the sun was shining and the birds sang tales of love and togetherness. You wanted to feel as though you were being embraced by constellations, struck by Cupid’s arrow as you stared at the person the universe decided was your fateful match.

Instead, you stared at Lee Jeno, and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

“Well,” you mumbled, unsure of what you should do now. “What now?”

He didn’t seem to have a direct answer, either, simply taking another sip of his coffee. You mentally questioned how he was able to consume something that hot without burning the hell out of his tongue, but that wasn’t something you needed to dwell on.

When he didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to ask another question and drill until you got all the answers you wanted.

“How long have you known?”

This was something he seemed to know the answer to. Without skipping a beat, he replied, “Mark told me about eight months ago after he saw your name on the award listings.”

To that, you felt your heart dry out a little bit more than it already was. Eight months was a long time to wait after knowing who your soulmate might be, especially considering that, eight months ago, he could’ve easily contacted you before the break between school years began. Wanting more out of him, you stayed silent, still trying to figure out what exactly you were feeling at that moment.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure of it, but Suhyeon told me your initials about three months ago. That’s when my friends found out and started hounding me to tell you.”

Suhyeon? Last you checked, she was horrified by the thought of even being near the golden boys, let alone speaking to them. In what situation would she have been around them without you, especially given that she was talking to them? It seemed Lee Jeno was the sort of person who answered a question by creating more, which was something you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“So why now, then? You obviously weren’t in a hurry.”

He took another slow, awkward sip of his coffee, and, if you weren’t insane, it seemed like he was nervous to you. That ignited a sense of pride in you, and you wanted to assume most people would never stress Lee Jeno out in their lives. At the same time, you wanted to hurry things up and leave so that you wouldn’t have to think about him until you needed to.

“I have a family dinner next week, and my dad…my dad wants me to start talking to Lim Nayeong because he thinks I should marry her. No offense to Nayeong, but I’d rather die than marry her right out of high school, and you’re…the only way I can convince him otherwise.”

The room went dead silent. You were unsure how to respond to a declaration like that without being mean, and, with the quirk of your lips, you couldn’t help but allow the flood gates to open.

“I’m sorry, but how in the world am I supposed to help? In what world is marriage to me more advantageous? I'm a random hick from the countryside who got lucky and struck it big. If anything, I’d make your father more inclined to marry you off.” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at how ridiculous this was, a hand hovering over your mouth and your eyes filling with laughter-born tears. Jeno stared at you incredulously, not even reacting to your sudden outburst in the slightest.

“I’m sorry man, but you might be better off taking literally anybody else with the same initials as me. I’m not the help you need.”

“So you wouldn't care if your soulmate married someone else?”

The undertone of anger in his voice washed away your laughter in an instant, nearly making you jump. You dropped your hand to your lap, sighing—you wondered if you’d end up pouring out your whole life story to him tonight. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet my soulmate in hopes that they’d be some knight in shining armor. After these midterms, though, I’m thinking my scholarship is going to be revoked and I’ll be back to the land in the poor and underprivileged. Sorry, Jeno, but, once again, you’d be better off picking somebody else to bring along. I'm not going to let myself fall in love with something painfully unrealistic, even if that something is my universal other-half.”

Jeno seemed to be exasperated at every word that left your mouth, and you weren’t sure how you were meant to handle the increasing hostility that was starting to emanate from your supposed soulmate. The more things went south, the more you wanted to laugh and scream at yourself for thinking your soulmate would be some prince from a foreign land. You were so childish, thinking you’d get anything out of the whole ‘soulmate’ ruse—at least you’d be paid off after Nayeong got married to Jeno. Then, you might be able to emancipate yourself with a good lawyer and blackmail the Lees into more money for a nice, Seoul apartment to rent.

“Okay. Let’s make a bet, then. If you score over me in four out of the six subjects, you’ll be in my car on the way to my parents’ house next Friday. Deal?”

Even with your continued top-five status on the class leaderboards, you don’t think you’d ever managed to score above Lee Jeno in four subjects. The only things you consistently dominated in were English, Literature, and History—you’d achieved first place in all three during every single exam season you’d had at the academy—and the rest—sciences, math, anything STEM—you barely achieved the top five rankings that were required of you.

For some reason, you were antsy to receive your test scores, now. You’d never made a bet on whether or not you’d do worse than somebody, ever. It was nearly exhilarating, and you now felt there was a reward to the end of your scholarship: at the very, very least, you wouldn’t have to attend a Lee family dinner with Lee Jeno, who you were finding to be very unpleasant.

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, standing up from the couch and looking down at him. “Deal.”

With that, you approached the rows of books, leaving Jeno to consider what he thought he'd accomplish by bringing you along to anything.

iv. and most of the titans would spend eternity there.

Three days into break, and you haven’t done much of anything. Suhyeon was out with her other rich friends, her “very own posse” as she liked to call it, and had spent the past couple of days staying off campus—it left you with a lot of time to think.

For the most part, you wondered what would happen in the unlikely case Jeno won your bet. You’d never had to speak to someone like that, someone who wasn’t a wealthy teacher or classmate—his parents were the real, unbridled deal. People who spent thousands every day, not blinking an eye at four-digit totals or the state of their bank account.

It scared you. A lot.

You could dish out a big word now and then, offer a cordial smile, or impress with your general knowledge of the world, but there was nothing about you that would impress a multi-billionaire. Not even a party trick or a joke you’d spent a million years formulating.

That fear, rivaling the fear of expulsion, was what brought you to your current position in the corner of the campus on a rarely-cleaned picnic table, your head in your arms and your eyes trained towards a rose bush. According to the clock on your phone, class rankings had been posted eleven minutes ago, and you had no intention of checking any time soon.

Win or lose, there was no positive for you, and you didn't like that. In any other circumstance, retaining the ability to attend classes here and gaining letters of recommendation was the best possibility for you, as it would be for anyone else. However, the world had to curse you with an old-money, top-elite soulmate rather than an honest, just-rich-enough-to-afford-tuition soulmate—you seriously had run out of luck when you procured the scholarship.

“Oh? What are you doing out here, Miss Honor Student?” Na Jaemin asked, scaring you at the suddenness of his appearance. You jerked up, looking towards him flustered and a bit embarrassed. He looked at you questioningly, his hands cupped and held near his chest.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I suppose you asking makes more sense,” he laughed, approaching one of the rose bushes you’d been staring at. “I found a bee crawling on the ground. Poor thing has a broken wing,” he hummed, reaching his hands out to a flower. You didn’t try and second guess his words, believing his alibi without needing any proof. Instead, you looked away, your stomach crawling at the thought of carrying a bee across campus like that. “Although, haven’t rankings been posted? Anyone would expect you to be first in line.”

“I’m not worked up over it or anything,” you mumbled, resisting the urge to put your head back down and block him out of your world. “Going now would just yield a bunch of crowding around a tiny bulletin board. It’s too difficult.”

“If you started walking now, I’d bet the crowd’s mostly dissipated,” he suggested, coming back around to where he could be in your line of sight. “Want to walk together?”

Feeling cornered, you stood up, brushing the dust and dirt off the bottom of your bag. Jaemin smiled satisfyingly, offering an arm for you to take. In the most non-discreet way possible, you pretended to not see the offer, brushing past him quickly. He didn’t let the act bruise his ego, though, following behind you in earnest. You wondered if, due to your relationship with his best friend, he felt the need to ensure that you had no ill feelings towards him; or, maybe, he resonated with you, as both of you started at the academy much later than most of your classmates.

“I heard the big reveal didn’t go as nicely as it could have,” he began, keeping pace with you almost perfectly. Your steps were completely in sync, and you couldn’t help but notice how he’d done it on purpose rather than coincidentally. Another thing you’d heard about Na Jaemin was that he was a robot, but most people were joking when they said that—maybe, they could’ve been right.

“Well, we’re not exactly the most chemical pair.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Jaemin said, lightly elbowing you in the arm. “He just doesn’t know how romance works. He’s all antsy right now because he told his dad to not invite Nayeong and her family to their very rare family dinners and used you as the excuse. I told him—I said, ‘Jeno, you can’t use your soulmate to get out of marriage unless you actually know your soulmate.’ And he got all pissy at me. I tried to make him make it the least bit romantic, but it sounds like he didn’t try at all.”

“He got me coffee.”

“Coffee is bitter and unromantic, though. I’d know.” Jaemin giggled, putting his arms behind his head. You approached the entrance to a corridor, which would effectively put you on the path to the bulletin. But, Jaemin took a sharp turn, leading you through the long way to get you there.

“Are you a ladies’ man? Romance-expert, or something?” you asked jokingly, not expecting any sort of genuine response. The closer you got to the truth made you start to get nervous again, words getting stuck at the top of your throat, impossible to speak yet impossible to swallow back down.

“Maybe I am.”

Jaemin looked towards you, giving you a look that you were half sure was him reading your mind and learning everything he possibly could about you. He was incredibly good at blending into you, even if you hadn’t talked much; everything he said coaxed more out of you, and every movement created a new line of conversation.

Every rumor you’d heard about him—so good at befriending people that it’s scary, a perfect speaker, the most eloquent student at the school—was proving to be true. He was monstrous, somebody you surely wouldn’t want to have on your bad side.

“You and I are similar, you know,” he said, tearing his away from you to look towards the door to the main school building. He opened it for you, waiting for you to enter before he did himself.

“How so?”

“My family’s new to this whole ‘rich and famous’ thing,” he began. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, watching as he looked up to the ceiling. His eyes glittered like stars, reflecting everything they saw to a T. “We’re, like, the ultimate definition of new money. My dad hit it big with Jeno’s dad, got on his good side, and became the chair of a subsidiary…so I’m in a limbo of sorts.”

“God, I wish my dad hit it big with Jeno’s,” you snorted, picking at the nail polish coating your fingers. “Is that why you came in at the beginning of high school rather than earlier?”

“My dad wanted me to experience a little bit of what he did, at the very least. Both my mom and dad thought it’d be too much if they moved me from here to a normal high school, though…thus, the order.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of fear as you turned a corner and a crowd of whispering teenagers came into view. Your conversation with Jaemin ended the moment they did, instead making way for what, no matter what, would be the worst moments of your life so far.

The moment you reached the crowd, people began to stare at you, whispering under their breaths as they passed. It was like being the center exhibit at an expensive art show, being a piece made entirely for public reaction. The more you walked, the more the red sea parted, giving you a clear path to the bulletin board. Within seconds, you’d reached it, scanning from the bottom up.

Number two was Jeno, to no one’s surprise. In order, his rankings had been second for English, second for history, second for literature, first for math, second for science, and second in his elective.

One above him was you.

First in English. First in history. First in literature. Second for math. First for science. First for your elective.

At that moment, you could’ve passed out. You stared at the line of ones (and a single two) in front of you, wondering how in the world you achieve something like that. For the past two years, you’d battled against private tutors and possible instances of cheating, always barely being able to hit the mark for every single subject. You never struggled in any of the humanities, but…second in math after your catastrophe of a test and first in science—physics specifically—felt like an absolute lie to you.

It felt unreal. It felt like you’d become the kids whose parents paid for their grades, who spent hours with private tutors that cost hundreds of thousands of won per hour. It felt like, somehow, you’d hit a peak even though you were only seventeen.

Your ears seemed to open, hearing everything the students around you said. “She’s never let Lee Jeno pass her once,” someone said, whispering to their friend.

“Do you think she gave him math as a pity grade? I heard they were in the same time slot last Thursday.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to figure things out amongst the chatter. Every word that came out of your peers' mouths was a word that clouded your mind, creating new ideas that you’d never once considered.

“She’s a commoner and she’s beating Lee Jeno. That ought to hurt the Lee name, right?”

Since when have you become Jeno’s rival? For a simple stroke of luck on a few tests? You felt like you were going insane, your feet cemented to the floor and your hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline, mixed with an intense and sudden wave of relief, that came with reading your scholarship was intact.

“Protip,” Jaemin said, grabbing your attention with ease. He seemed to drag you back down to Earth, returning you to the pedestal on which you were expected to carry the world. “There’s only one thing that’ll put you above the title of student council president and daughter of a filthy rich tech couple, and that’s this.”

“Nayeong ranks first every year, too. This’ll barely help.”

“I don’t think so,” Jaemin chuckled. You looked at him, raising an accusatory brow; he mirrored your expression, looking down at you with eyes that sparkled with mischief and utter madness. “Miss Nayeong ranked seventh this time around.”

v. unlike his fellow titans, atlas had a different punishment.

There wasn’t a single word to be shared between you and Jeno, and you couldn’t ever see yourself getting to a point where there was.

After he’d sent you a text—where he got your number, you’re unsure—asking for your general clothing measurements, then dropping off a dress with a price tag you never, ever wanted to face again, you hadn’t spoken a word to each other.

Even as you climbed into the sleek, black car that waited for you about a couple of blocks away from campus, he didn’t so much as greet you, deciding that telling the driver to get going was a much better use of his time. For the man who got so upset when you showed little to no care about your soulmate status, you were quite surprised at his unwillingness to speak to you.

A part of you wanted to keep up the silence, to ignore the slight tug in your heart and the fact that you needed to know at least something about him so his parents didn’t get suspicious, but you weren’t going to embarrass yourself with him. Especially not in front of the moneybags that he called parents.

So, when you reached about ten minutes before your estimated time of arrival at a fancy hotel (rather than his house, which was the former location of this family dinner), you began to fiddle with your handbag, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper.

“This is my transcript thus far,” you said, breaking the silence between you two. He looked away from the window, staring down at the hand that carried the paper. “Someone told me your dad was big on grades. Thought it’d be useful for your argument.”

He pulled it from your fingertips, much gentler than you’d assume from Lee Jeno, and his eyes lingered on your hands. You’d painted your nails for the occasion, wiping off the half-chipped coat you previously had on in favor of a nicer, more sophisticated color. It matched the dress well, along with the makeup you’d begged Suhyeon to help you put on without telling her the occasion for it.

“Nice job on the nails,” he commented, looking away from them and putting the folded piece of paper in his pocket. “You look expensive.”

“Is that not the goal?”

“That’s precisely the goal. I need you to look like I dote on you,” Jeno mumbled, dropping his hands into his lap. “Sorry, but I’m going to really play up the scholarship student thing.”

“No worries. I understand not wanting to marry someone you don’t know.”

The more you thought about it, the more you began to pity him. Worrying about a money-based arranged marriage was a very first-world-problems-esque issue to be having, you could respect that it was something he didn’t want. You just wished he was asking you to be his scapegoat as a lie rather than as a reality—you’d feel much better if you were pretending to be his soulmate.

“I don’t think my father will be too interested in the details of our relationship, he’ll just want proof you’ll be able to measure up to Nayeong,” Jeno said, ignoring your earlier comment. “Activities, grades, I don’t care what, play up everything about yourself. He doesn’t care about in-laws, he cares about the money you can bring in.”

“Wow, sounds like a lovely man.”

Jeno cleared his throat, made uncomfortable by your short quip. “He is when he’s not talking about his paycheck.”

To you, it sounded like Jeno was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, but you weren’t in the mood to pry. Instead, you looked out the window once again, cringing at how snowy and cold it looked outside. You were going to freeze in this dress, even when you were wearing insulated tights underneath, even when it was long-sleeved and pretty thick.

When the hotel came into view, you embarrassingly recognized it as a place many social media celebrities enjoyed coming to. In your few moments of off time, you were sure you’d seen the outside in a few lifestyle vlogs or food review videos. It was fairly trendy; you had to give Jeno’s parents props for that.

Opposite to your reaction, Jeno scoffed at the sight of the luxury inn, evidently unsatisfied with it. “Of course she’d pick here,” he murmured to himself. You wondered if his siblings—who were going to be attending as you’d learned this morning—had been in charge of picking the restaurant, which would make more sense given its online reputation. He shared that he had two younger sisters and a younger brother, all of whom weren’t in high school yet, so you’d never met them or seen them before.

The driver pulled up to the extravagant porte-cochere—the fancy driveway outside of a hotel, which Suhyeon had taught you the name of—and slowed to a stop, but neither you nor Jeno moved.

“Remember,” he said, putting on the coaching voice he used to relay this to you earlier. “My mom will be the weak spot, so focus on her more than my dad. We both need to fight when my father grows argumentative, but you need to be more tactical and logical. My siblings will be on our side so don’t try to make a case to them.”

“What are their names again?”

“In order, Yeojin, Soeun, and Sunwoo.”

You recited their names, wondering why Jeno had received such an odd name compared to the rest of them. Nevertheless, you made the first move to exit the stationary car, regretting it the moment the night air hit your skin. A deep chill cemented itself in your stomach, and you began to wonder how it managed to be so unimaginably cold at all. Jeno followed behind you, mumbling something else as he joined you outside.

You briefly considered how this was going to go, given you’d never tried to act like you were in love with someone before. You were sure Jeno was a pro at fabricating things, plastering on disingenuous smiles and acting interested in the monetary, arrogant talk of wealthy adults. The most you’d done was work at your local convenience store for a summer.

The moment he joined up next to you, he linked his arm with yours, and you were off. You were thankful for the warmth you received from him, even if it was slightly uncomfortable given your situation. You preferred being warm over being comfortable in most situations.

The doors slid open automatically, leading you into a world entirely separate from your own. You tried to suppress the urge to ogle at everything, to approach the plants that lined the lobby and check if they were real, to run for the sole purpose of hearing your heels clack against the marble floor. You kept your jaw screwed shut and your eyes forward, even if all you wanted to do was “ooh” at the chandeliers on the ceiling.

You’d never forget this moment. Being a customer at a place you’d exclusively seen through rich influencers’ and celebrities’ social media felt ridiculous.

One glance up was all you allowed yourself—a simple, lingering stare—but it put you in last place anyway. When you looked back down, there was a girl, no older than 15, sprinting towards you, a big smile on her face. Jeno dropped your arm and pulled the girl into a hug, a smile blooming on his face as he did. You’d never seen him smile so genuinely in your life.

Another girl came forward as well, but she came slower, more timidly. She was certainly younger than the other girl, maybe around 11 or 12, with her hair done much simpler and her clothes much more juvenile. She passed by Jeno and (who you assumed to be) his sister, stopping in front of you. “Um, hello,” she said. You smiled, assuming this was when your grand performance was to begin.

“Hello there,” you replied, feeling a surge of confidence run through you. “Soeun, right?”

Her eyes practically doubled in size for a moment, and you hoped that meant your leap-in-the-dark guess had been correct. “Um, yeah. You’re [First], right?”

“That would be me, yes.”

Soeun opened her mouth to speak, but Yeojin quickly cut her off by dragging you into a highly unwelcome hug. You ignored the discomfort, reaching your arms around her and giving her a few awkward pats. “It’s so fun to meet you!” Yeojin squealed, and you briefly wondered how long Jeno had been telling his family about you before he directly told you.

“Yeojin,” Jeno said, a warning-esque tone in his voice. “Lay off a bit.”

You felt her freeze and then she immediately let go of you, practically pushing her off. A hand covered her mouth—her nails were perfectly manicured, done much better than your self-painted ones—and she gasped, and now you felt a bit overwhelmed by her. Soeun, to Yeojin’s side, looked away, her eyes shiny and a bit saddened; while she certainly wasn’t living a life anything similar to yours, you could see yourself in her, a bit.

“Sorry, I forget we’ve never met. You’re, like, big news on the lower grade campus,” Yeojin said. “Among the second years, you’re like a superhero or something. First place without a tutor! Rare, one-in-a-million scholarship student! I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity.”

Well, that was certainly something you didn’t want to hear. Yeojin was already the type of person you couldn’t handle well, if the past few minutes were anything to go off of, and she’d shared mildly upsetting information with you already. You didn’t want to be popular among middle schoolers at all.

“That’s nice, I suppose. Maybe a bit worrying,” you joked, and Yeojin seemed to think you were a comedian by the way she laughed. Jeno looked at you both, obviously sensing your lack of social capability. and chose that moment to switch the attention to Soeun.

“Do you want to lead us to our table, Soeun?” he asked, taking your arm into his once again. Now that you were in the warm, heated hotel, the gesture only made you feel uncomfortable rather than warmed. If you were eating outside, maybe you’d be able to handle any skinship he initiated to make your relationship seem more believable—you supposed that either way, you signed up for this.

Yeojin squealed at you two, though, which made everything about this so much less worth it. After being surrounded by high schoolers and adults for two entire years, you’d forgotten how insufferable 14-year-olds were, and, somehow, Yeojin had managed to assume the worst form of 14-year-old possible. You felt bad for her older self, who would, inevitably, look back on this period of her life with misery rather than fondness.

Soeun took the lead as she was asked to do, shuffling her feet across the marble flooring. It didn’t take long for Yeojin to take the lead, beginning to chatter on about something you managed to tune out pretty quickly. You took the time to gaze at the beauty around you, from intricate flower pots to huge pieces of art that lined the walls. This felt fake, almost, and you wondered how you’d managed to get this lucky with the game of fate. If only a future between you and Jeno felt plausible.

Soeun (more so Yeojin) led you up a set of marble stairs, and then, into a long, dimly lit corridor. It was filled with paintings and lined with the most beautifully-installed marble you’d ever seen. Then, you reached the door at the end, which was made of glass and had insanely intricate carvings on it. Along with that, it had the words “The Aviary” engraved onto the one empty spot among the carvings.

You felt faint. For a moment, you wondered how much Jeno’s parents’ bill would be for this meal, and then you decided to mentally scold yourself for even wondering that in the first place. Yeojin pushed the door open, letting both you and Soeun pass.

The Aviary was, quite possibly, the fanciest restaurant you’d ever been in. It had chandeliers everywhere and thin, walkable carpet on the floors, along with more art that lined every inch of the wall it possibly could. Every table had a pure white table cloth and velvet chairs, each one already perfectly set with a million different utensils and candles that lined the span of it. Soeun continued to lead you deeper into the restaurant. past waiters and tables and windows that showed a more elevated view of Seoul than you were expecting.

You must’ve missed scaling such a massive hill when you were on your way here, mostly due to the internal panic you were fighting off the entire time. You tried to suppress your ogling again, looking towards the floor and hoping you didn’t look like an absolute idiot.

Soeun then led you through a door and into another hallway, this one lined with several doors. She approached the one at the edge once again, and Yeojin beat her to the door again, opening it and waiting for you to enter.

You were instantly hit with the view of Lee Jeno’s father, who looked like your biggest fear. Next to him was his wife, Jeno’s mother, and a few chairs down was a boy who seemed to be about 15 as well, absorbed in his phone and dead to the world.

It kind of felt like you were about to undergo the reckoning, and your final opponents were every relevant religious figure. Every breath that escaped Jeno’s parents’ lips was revered and every blink was well documented, every lost eyelash and every slight movement was taken note of. It’d be accurate to say that Jeno’s parents were more important than the prime minister—they brought in the money and held up the economy, while all the prime minister did was sit and twiddle his fingers.

“You must be [First],” Jeno’s mother said, standing. A small smile graced her features, one that looked and felt apologetic. One glance at the man next to her told you all you needed to know about why she might’ve been apologetic.

“Yes,” you nodded, smiling back. You pulled your arm from Jeno’s, giving her a deep bow; most of the time, you’d learned those wealthier (and older) than you enjoyed the robotic, hardly-genuine signs of respect that most other adults in your life had abandoned. When you stood up straight again, you were pleased to see the impressed glint in her eyes.

“I’m Jeno’s mother,” she introduced, although you found it to be a bit redundant.

“It’s lovely to meet you, ma’am. I’ve heard much about you.”

You hoped she didn’t inquire about any knowledge of their family, as, other than basic facts and events, you knew next to nothing about their personal lives. Jeno’s mother took a seat, motioning to the chairs in front of her and her husband. You allowed Jeno to pull your chair out, internally questioning whether or not anyone had ever pulled your chair out for you.

The velvet seats were more comfortable than any seat you’d ever owned, from your desk chair at school to the lousy, old couch back at your parents' house. You couldn’t imagine how much they’d cost the restaurant, given that every single table had a set of at least four. Even if Jeno’s dad stared at you like you were the grossest, most disgusting thing you’d ever seen, at least you’d get to sit in this chair and eat the restaurant’s food.

“It’s lovely to see you again too, dear,” Mrs. Lee said, giving Jeno a new type of smile. This one was much different than the one she’d offered you—everything about this one carried a mother’s warmth, a mother’s love, drenched in such intense care that nothing could shake it. Jeno could’ve entered this restaurant in his unwashed gym clothes and she would’ve offered the same smile, unchanged and unshaken.

“Mother,” Jeno greeted with a nod. Then, he turned to his father and extended a steady glare. His father glared back, and, as Yeojin and Soeun took their seats next to Sunwoo, a subtle air of war settled over the table. There would be nothing pleasant about this dinner, even if the food was perfect and the view was delightful.

You took the moment of silence to remind yourself that this was not much of a dinner, rather, it was a challenge. A test to see if you were worthy to wed to Jeno one day, and a challenge to see if you could keep up the perfect-soulmate act to void any sort of marriage contract to Nayeong.

“Mr. Lee,” you said, taking the initiative to speak to your strongest opponent. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, as well. Jeno speaks of you very highly.”

When he looked toward you, your blood ran cold. His stare, now protruding into your eyes rather than the side of your head, was icy and unwelcoming like you’d just beat him in a lawsuit or nothing. He was an unbreakable wall, and you told yourself that you only needed to find the single crack that was caused by love for his eldest son as if it would be easy.

“You’re the academy’s charity case for Jeno’s year, correct?”

Ouch. What an obvious insult, among the many he could’ve thrown at you—you were almost impressed that he didn’t even try to hide his hostility. You’d thought that, at the very least, he’d try to maintain his usual TV persona, but maybe you overestimated your worthiness of receiving that sort of respect. Before you could smile and tell him, yes, you are the charity case, Jeno flared up, ready to spit false fire at his father.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn't call my girlfriend a charity case, Father,” Jeno spat, eyes narrowed. You instinctively put a hand on his shoulder, figuring this would be a good, caring gesture given the situation. Being called somebody’s girlfriend felt foreign, but you supposed it wouldn’t be the best idea to disclose that. After all, this would likely be your one chance to impress him, if you had to guess. You were well acquainted with the idea of being a charity case, hell, you agreed.

“No, he’s right. If they didn’t have to maintain their image, they wouldn’t have the scholarship exams at all,” you said, keeping your eyes on Jeno’s father. Slowly, you dropped your hand from his shoulder, leaning back on the chair and ignoring the pounding of your heart. “Nevertheless, I am fully confident in my abilities. I deserve to be at a school like the academy. Even if I must endure a title like ‘charity case.’”

Jeno’s father turned his eyes towards Jeno and then back at you, the glare never faltering. You wondered how a single man harbored so much malice, and how Jeno saw his father in a good light. He seemed bitter and controlling, angry that his son—his next-of-kin, the boy who would one day be the king of his corporate kingdom—refused to marry a woman he did not know, right out of high school.

He did not say anything in return to your response, rather, picking up his delicately folded, fabric napkin and unraveling it to place on his lap. You mimicked his actions, remembering how Suhyeon once mentioned that you shouldn’t do something until the lead of the table has (among many other things she decided to recite to you one late night, so you could’ve been completely off the mark with that one). However, judging by the way everyone else seemed to do the same shortly after you, you assumed you guessed right.

“Jeno shared that you’re quite the prodigy, though, [First]. I mean, to be able to hold your own amongst children who have top-notch private tutors and spend all their time studying…I couldn’t imagine doing something like that,” Jeno’s mom said, trying to salvage what her husband destroyed. “If you weren’t so busy with your own schoolwork, I’d hire you to tutor the girls.”

“I’m honored you’d entrust me with furthering your children’s education,” you smiled, picking up the glass of water that was filled before you came in. You attempted to hold it as daintily as possible, taking the shortest, most sophisticated sip you could muster.

“Is that not what’s expected of her, though?” Jeno’s father was apparently determined to ruin your day, likely to destroy what little confidence you had and remove you from the academy (and Jeno’s life) completely. “It’s not impressive when she is merely fulfilling what is asked of her.”

You pondered what might’ve put his father on edge so quickly. You’d barely spoken to this man at all, let alone been in the same room as him, and he was already determined to get rid of you. Perhaps that was why he moved the dinner location from his home to here—he didn’t want this to be an official “meet-the-parents” event. He wanted it to be a family dinner without your presence at all.

You figured he would be thrilled to hear that you and his son likely had no future together.

“Is she not going above and beyond? If she was just meeting the scholarship requirements, why is she first place instead of fifth?” Jeno questioned, leaning back in his chair. You looked over, and, from the expression on his face, Jeno seemed actually upset. His ears were tinged red and his face was tight, and, with a quick once over, you could see that his fists were clenched and his shoulders were fairly tight.

To be honest, you couldn’t blame him. If you had to listen to your father reject your soulmate in favor of a random girl you barely knew, you’d be pretty pissed off too, no matter your relationship with your soulmate.

“Because she spends every second of the day with her head in a book, Jeno. Not because she has natural talent, or because she’s the prodigy your school claims she is,” he fired back. If you held any respect for Jeno’s father, you’d be utterly destroyed; luckily, you had no respect for any man that ran a company that was hinged on the work of underpaid laypeople, so you were unscathed by his words. “Nayeong is student council president, holds herself in the top five, does service whenever she can…and your little soulmate is relying on her connection to you to make anything of herself.”

You audibly snorted at that, raising an eyebrow. “I am?” you questioned, crossing your legs. A sick sense of amusement filled your chest, along with a burst of confidence. “With all due respect, sir, I did not aim for my scholarship with the intent of striking gold with my soulmate or significant other. I aimed for it because the only way I can make anything of myself is with my grades, because my mother didn’t give birth to me on a bed of cash.”

Jeno began to speak right after you, not granting any time for his father to reply to you. “Besides,” he said, slamming two pieces of paper—unfolded and crinkled—onto the table. “Nayeong got seventh this year.”

His father scanned over the papers, which you realized were both yours and Lim Nayeong’s transcripts. Yours, from where you sat, had nothing but ones, twos, and the occasional three or four, while hers had fours, fives, and even nines, without a single one in sight. Nayeong’s grades were nothing to be ashamed of given how busy she was with everything else, but next to yours, they didn’t measure up in the slightest.

It made you feel embarrassed. It made you want to say, “there is still not much of a difference between Nayeong and me, I just scored a few points more.”

“So compared to a girl with sevens, a student council position, and a respectable family,” Jeno’s father said slowly, returning to his complete ignorance of you. “You’d rather spend the rest of your life with a poor, unsightly girl who has slightly impressive grades, alcoholic parents, and a drug-addicted brother in prison?”

Your blood ran cold. Jeno’s jaw clenched, and his mother gasped, turning towards her husband and slapping his shoulder. “You promised me you wouldn’t bring that up—” she began but was quickly cut off by Jeno standing so suddenly that his chair fell over, banging against the ground and causing everybody to flinch. You looked up at him, an emptiness spreading through your chest.

“Talk to my girlfriend like that again,” he began, clenching his fists so hard that his hands began to shake. “And I will end you.”

He didn’t waste a moment turning towards the door, throwing it open, and marching out. You stood up quickly, albeit much more gracefully, draping the fabric napkin over the back of your chair and racing out of the room without another word. You didn’t look back, keeping your eyes on Jeno’s shrinking figure and walking as fast as you could without speeding up to a run. You sped through the restaurant, out into the lobby and past all the glitz and glamor of the hotel. By the time you caught up to him, Jeno was standing outside in the empty entry area, typing furiously on his phone.

“You—you didn’t have to blow up like that. I mean, we were just acting, and I can’t say I wasn’t expecting him to know.”

Jeno turned towards you, scoffing. “I just don’t get it.”

“Huh?” You tilted your head, wondering why he sounded so…mean. Angry, even.

“You’re perfect,” he said, looking up at the darkened sky. The lighting from the hotel entrance lit up his face, every feature and every imperfection (although scarce) perfectly on display, but you could’ve sworn the stars were what lit up his eyes. They sparkled like fireworks, the kind that was loud and Earth-shaking. “Everything about you. You’re pretty, you’re perfectly intelligent, you know how to speak to people and you know how to get your point across. You know when to smile and when to not. You know how to meet new people and try new things.”

You were confused. He launched compliment after compliment at you, but he sounded almost…bitter about it. Like he was unhappy you were all those things.

‘Um…” you mumbled, but couldn’t find the words to respond. You just stared, waiting for him to say anything, feeling the cold dive deeper into your skin—under your skin—and each shiver become more intense.

“There’s not a single thing you don’t beat me in but money. So what if you have terrible parents and an awful family, because you’re the picture-perfect poster girl—hell, you’re more than that. You have the perfect underdog story too, and he still hates you. He still prefers that—that witch,” he rambled, looking down and kicking a pebble that was next to his feet. “What does that mean for me? If you’re so terrible, so average despite your grades and your reputation, does that not mean I’m a failure of a son?”

“What? Jeno, I think you’re overreacting—”

“Oh, am I?” he turned, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets. “You’ve been ahead of me from the moment you stepped onto that god-forsaken campus, and you’ve given me, what, math as reparations? Every year, I have to use the excuse that I have the scholarship student to compete with, and that’s why I’m not the perfect top of the class, but he views you as obsolete. Doesn’t that mean I’m worse than obsolete? Huh?”

“Well, other than the fact that you’re agreeing with him,” you said, crossing your arms. “What does it matter what he thinks? Even if he gives his business to one of your siblings, you’ll still be drowning in cash. So what if you get married to Nayeong? Just cheat on her, or something, because, if she’s such a witch,” you paused, emphasizing your distaste with his nickname for her, “won’t she do the same?”

“How are you so okay with this?” he asked, raising his voice in the slightest. “You found out I was your soulmate and you didn’t even try to make a connection. You were okay with me using you to sidestep my father’s plans for me, you were okay with him relentlessly insulting you until it had something to do with your private life—why?”

“Why? Would you like it if a man you’d never met brought up your terrible at-home life and decided to equate it to you being terrible? I know my strengths, I know who I am, but it’s not very nice to be compared to 4 siblings who didn’t even attempt university and parents who barely work,” you replied, wondering why he was getting so upset. Minutes ago, he was spewing lines straight out of a drama, but now he was mobilizing against you, too. The worst part was that you couldn’t match his energy at all—maybe it was reactionary to the fact that you no longer had to sit through a dinner with his parents, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel angry.

You were realizing that Jeno viewed you as a rival, while you never had. Before the past week, he was just another golden boy, one of the boys Suhyeon hated, one of the fancy popular boys you’d never talk to. It seemed as though he’d viewed you as an opponent from your first round of exams.

You felt bad, for some reason—guilty even. As if this was something you were meant to feel guilty for. You couldn’t imagine Jeno had been exactly thrilled when he found out you were his soulmate—judging by how long it took him to tell you, he wasn’t thrilled at all—and yet he was acting like you’d ruined his life.

You didn’t get it.

“You’re ridiculous.” Jeno laughed breathily, pacing around a bit. All you could do was watch, even when a car pulled up in front of you, likely for him to make his grand escape. “Jaemin was wrong. This was never going to work.”

“Did you ever think it was?” you rose a brow, suppressing a shiver that was beginning to creep down your back. “Sorry, Jeno, but we were destined for destruction. Even if we tried to foster something, that wouldn’t stop my parents from approaching the tabloids, and it wouldn’t stop the tabloids from painting me as a money-grabbing asshole. Count your blessings, okay? You’ll have everything and more. A loveless marriage is the least you need to deal with.”

He spun towards you, narrowing his eyes. “Just because I have money or a fancy house does not mean my life will be easy.”

You widened your eyes, nodding slowly. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

“Just—just get in the car. Leave, please.”

You turned towards the sleek, black car that was parked beside you. Without another word, you walked towards it, throwing the door open and basking in the heat that emanated out of it. You got in, slamming the door behind you, and watched Jeno get smaller and smaller as the driver drove you farther and farther away.

vi. instead of being banished to tartarus,

Suhyeon knows.

You can tell by the way she interacts with you, by the way she avoids you in the halls and stays out of the dorm until she absolutely can’t anymore. You can tell by the way she doesn’t interrupt your incessant studying, reignited by the end of break and the beginning of a new term, with mindless hypotheticals and useless facts. You can tell by the way she slips into her fight-or-flight persona when she speaks to you, the same person when she’s near the golden boys.

Reasonably, you’ve also begun to believe she’s not telling you something. Maybe you’ve always believed that, but it’s to a much larger extent now; there’s something important she’s not telling you. You’ve also concluded she was aware Jeno was your soulmate, but, for whatever reason, she chose not to tell you.

You can’t bring yourself to feel angry, no matter what you do, no matter how much you think about it. It stresses you out, how numb you feel in regards to your situation, how numb you’ve felt for the past two years or so. All your energy, and, by extension, all your emotions, have been poured into your grades and your social standing among professors and academic greats. There’s nothing left over to feel something for your own misgivings, unless it’s about school or your future.

It’s miserable here. Everything is miserable. But, if you give up, if you stop going, you’ll be trapped under the thumb of your parents forever, and you cannot live like that. No matter what, you cannot live like that.

“I see what you’re saying, [First],” Dr. Choi hummed, writing a few things down on her clipboard. “If you want me to be entirely honest with you, there’s not a single student on this campus that’s gone through anything as tough as you’re going through. Even if they’re being forced into an arranged marriage, even if they’re underestimated and outcasted by their parents. At the end of the day, unless they’re kicked out—which they won’t be—nobody here will ever know ‘struggle’ like you do.”

You want to feel vindicated by Dr. Choi’s words, but you simply can’t. You feel tired, overworked and underappreciated, and want nothing more than to return to your dorm room and go to bed.

“But, this ‘numbness’ you’re feeling…you say you’ve felt like this for a while?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m not one to deny things—it’s not my job to deny things—but I can safely say that’s likely not the case. Before last week, you had a good work-life balance…mostly…and you were happy. You never came to my office because you didn’t need to,” Dr. Choi said, causing you to look up at her from the coffee table between you. Her gaze was distressing, halfway implying she knew something you didn’t.

“What do you mean?”

“It feels similar, sure, because the only thing stressing you out then was school. Now, there’s two things, but only one is stressing you out…and you say you can’t feel anything else. It’s because you’re rejecting your soulmate.”

“Excuse me?”

“As far-fetched as it sounds, it’s true. Biologists like to say the concept of soulmates is nigh useless, and that the only thing denoting it is the little marking on your body, but…cognitive science says otherwise. Think of Jeno as half of your brain—the feeling part of your brain—and you’re the functioning part. He’s feeling too many emotions right now, and you’re feeling none, while he’s likely having trouble finding the motivation to do much of anything,” she explained. “It’s certainly not impossible to live without your soulmate, but rejecting them is a bit different. You’ll get over it one day, or you won’t, but for now it’ll be awful.”

You stayed silent, looking back down at the coffee table. You supposed it made sense, and she was right, you hadn’t worried about much other than your grades for the past two years. Your parents and family were always buzzing in the background, heightening your school stress by proxy, especially right now.

You didn’t like seeing Dr. Choi because it felt like she could never understand you, but perhaps she was making a solid point right now.

“So I just have to wait?”

“Yes. But, if you want my honest opinion, I don’t think anyone should attempt to reject their soulmate at 17,” she sighed, writing something else down on her clipboard. “You don’t know what love is, or what this is supposed to feel like. You feel like the world is ending because you’re not having the ‘love at first sight’ situation the TV tells you about. Try to form a relationship with him, even if it’s just a friendship, and don’t cut him out entirely. You’ll probably regret it later on.”

You doubted that, but you nodded like you were agreeing with her. She put her clipboard down on the table, allowing you to see your printed name and then tons of incomprehensible scribbles that only Dr. Choi could read. “Time’s up for today, unfortunately, as I have another student coming in. Don’t tell her I said she doesn’t know what struggle is, okay?”

You smiled hollowly, nodding. You stood up from the couch, picking up a hard candy from the bowl she kept on the table, considering that to be your reward for coming into the counselor’s office in the first place.

It was too bad you’d disregard all of her advice. At the end of the day, you were a teenager, and anything an adult said felt like an utter lie. You approached the office door, sliding it open and emerging into the hall. You wished the counselor’s office hadn’t been so far across campus, because now you had a far walk through the cold courtyard back to the dorm.

If they’d just put it in one of the class buildings rather than in the faculty building, your life would be much easier.

“Oh, [First]?”

You froze, turning your head to see the one-and-only Na Jaemin behind you. He sped up a bit, stopping as he reached your side. “Long time no see, genius. How are you?”

“Fine.”

You proceeded walking, as did he, keeping himself in step next to you. “Out of the counselor’s office? I heard once that they require you to go at least once a month for, y’know, academic stress. Rumor has it a scholarship student once offed himself because everything got too difficult.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rumor. It’s not required but every teacher encourages it more than I’d like them to,” you explained, unwrapping the pink hard candy and popping it in your mouth. Behind you, you heard the telling squeak of the counselor’s office door, and, out of curiosity, you turned to see who was going in after you.

Lim Nayeong. The coincidence could’ve made you laugh.

“It’s required for the student council, though. I guess being the quasi-leaders of the school is a bit harder than being the public reputation,” you joked, feeling the slightest bit relieved hearing Jaemin laugh in response.

“I guess so,” he replied, stopping you both at the elevator rather than the stairs. You sighed, suppressing the urge to say the stairs were always faster as he’d already pressed the shiny ‘down’ button. You could’ve walked off without him, but you weren’t an asshole, and if he wanted to walk with you, he could. The doors opened quickly, letting off a monotonous ‘ding’ as a result. Jaemin held his arm out, waiting for you to step inside before he did.

He was very gentlemanly, and you briefly considered that he was showing you his TV persona as an apology for not getting to receive Jeno’s father’s. Or, maybe, he was extending an apology from his own father, who somehow heard about how terribly you were treated.

“Look, Jeno didn’t mean it. He’s stressed about the thought of being tied down the moment he graduates, and he’s looking for every single way out. He thought you were a fool-proof plan, but he underestimated how far his father could go, and…well…”

It was more reasonable for Jaemin to be apologizing for Jeno. You weren’t very surprised that this was his main reason for talking to you, but you’d wished it would’ve been something more fulfilling than a secondary apology from Jeno.

“I don’t care. He can do what he wants, I’m not going to tell him how he can and can’t feel.”

“Okay, I’m gonna cut straight to the point,” Jaemin said, turning so that his whole body could face you. You gave him a judgmental look, wholly uninterested in whatever he was going to say to you. “Don’t reject Jeno now, all right? Wait until summer or something. For you, you just feel a little off, or, rather, you feel nothing at all, but this is practically overhauling everything in Jeno’s life. He nearly unfriended Donghyuck earlier because of a simple quip, and he can barely do anything without getting upset over it.”

“Do you think I can just…stop? I don’t feel any connection to him,” you said, hoping the elevator would hurry up. You cursed it for being so slow and old. “I don’t know what to tell you. I…I just don’t know.”

The lights on the elevator went off, and it jerked to a stop. You looked up, eyebrows furrowing. “You’re kidding me. Holy shit. You’re kidding me.”

You pressed your back to the wall of the elevator, sliding down to the floor. Jaemin didn’t say anything, but he pulled his phone out pretty quickly, typing frantically. You slid yours out as well, shocked to see a couple of texts from Suhyeon.

“hey where are you rn? we were just called down into the lounge,” read the first text. “god are you at the counselor’s office still? they’re not telling us what’s going on.”

You typed a quick response, saying you were still in the faculty building but the power went out as you were in the elevator. You hoped she didn’t question your elevator usage, putting your phone back into your pocket and ignoring the buzzing that ensued.

Jaemin was typing furiously from what you could see, the light from his phone being the only thing illuminating the elevator. He furrowed his brows, turning to look down at you. “Have you heard anything about what’s happening from anyone? None of my friends know, but they’ve all been gathered together for a while.”

“All I heard was that nobody was saying what’s happening.”

The moment you stopped talking, the lights flicked on, and the elevator began moving. You stood up, furrowing your brows as the floor counter turned from a “2” to a “1.”

When the doors opened, you were hit with a wave of heat and pure, black smoke. You began choking on the air, but Jaemin was fast acting and began to jam the “close door” button, along with the third floor button—where you’d just come from. The doors didn’t close fast enough, and the smoke began to spread into the elevator, making your eyes water and your lungs hurt. By the time the doors finally closed, there was enough smoke to keep you coughing, even if your shirt was haphazardly thrown over your mouth and nose.

The elevator began moving up, and a wave of panic blew through you. It broke through whatever invisible filter that had been causing you to feel numb for the past week or so, and a self-composed prayer fell past your lips, between coughs, over and over again: “please, go up, please, go up.”

The elevator seemed to move at a snail’s pace, but, as long as it was moving, you didn't care. Given how you’d just been up on the third floor, there was absolutely no way the fire had spread that far—the only issue was that there wasn’t exactly a staircase leading from the third floor down to the ground of the snowy outdoors.

“Someone’s setting the school on fire,” Jaemin said between coughs. “Some guy. Most everybody’s evacuated, but they apparently forgot us.”

“Maybe because they couldn’t get inside?” you shot back, feeling a wave of relief—not nearly strong enough to overpower the panic—when the “4” appeared on the screen. “Why the fuck didn’t the fire alarm go off?”

“Because this building is ancient and they’ve never thought to replace it,” Jaemin half-hissed. The doors opened to reveal a smokeless third floor, but, upon walking out, you learned the heat had reached the floor along with the scent of smoke.

“The counselor’s door is still closed,” you pointed out, not wasting a moment to begin walking that way. “They’re either still in there, or they found a way out.”

You refused to consider that they’d left and closed the door behind them, not wanting to believe you were stuck in a burning building with no way out. Suddenly, Jaemin slipped in a way that he slid, falling straight onto his back. You looked down at the floor, realizing it had been completely doused in what you could only assume was oil.

“No time to wait!” you exclaimed, bending down and grabbing Jaemin’s arm. You practically yanked him up from the floor, dragging him along with you while he stumbled trying to keep his footing. You made it to the counselor room’s door, throwing it open and rejoicing to the heavens that there was an open window.

You rushed towards it, letting go of Jaemin, who went back and slammed the door shut. You looked out of it, noticing Dr. Choi on the roof below it, helping Lim Nayeong get down to the ground. “Doctor!” you screeched, grabbing her attention. She looked up the moment Nayeong had made it to the ground, standing and turning towards you.

“Come on!” she yelled, waving her hands at you. Jaemin came up behind you, beginning to help you shove yourself through the small window in front of you. You mentally thanked him for lifting you up, allowing for you to go feet first rather than head first. You let yourself fall down to the rooftop, cringing at the pain in your ankle as you landed. You

Dr. Choi rushed towards you, looking up at Jaemin, who began to extract himself from the building as well.

“What’s going on?” you asked, coughing out more of the smoke you inhaled earlier.

“Someone’s trying to burn down the school and they started with the faculty building first,” she said, a little too calm for the situation at hand. Jaemin landed in front of her, also wincing at the pressure it put on his legs. “We need to keep going. Come on.”

Nayeong was waiting at the bottom, standing next to a teacher you’d never seen before. The ground seemed far, too far for you to be happy about it, but you were assuming the way Nayeong made it down was thanks to the bushes that would’ve cushioned her fall.

“You’re just coming down from the second story!” Nayeong yelled, reaching up at you. Dr. Choi gave you a slight push on the shoulder, to which you looked back at her like she was crazy. Jaemin didn’t wait, lowering himself to the roof. You watched as he, facing towards you, slid himself off, hanging onto the edge for a second. Nayeong rushed over, reaching up to help him safely get down to the ground.

“Kill me,” you mumbled, walking over to the edge. Slowly, you repeated Jaemin’s steps, feeling like you could barely move.

“You can do it, [First]!” Nayeong yelled, and you hoped she was holding her hands up like she had been before. You pushed yourself off, feeling the edge of the roof dig into your fingers as you began to hang off the edge. As fast as you’d begun hanging, though, two hands were on your calves, beckoning for you to let go.

So, you did. You hit the ground with a quiet crunch thanks to the snow, but an unexpected shooting pain traveled up your ankle and calf, causing you to nearly fall over into the snow. Jaemin caught you, but Nayeong looked at you, furrowing her brows.

“Are you okay?”

“I think my ankle is sprained,” you mumbled hoarsely, steadying yourself and pushing yourself away from Jaemin. You took your phone out of your pocket, staring at a wave of texts you’d received from Suhyeon, begging you to tell her you were okay and that you’d made it out. You shakily typed a short “I’m fine” before shoving your phone back into your coat.

Dr. Choi made it down from the roof, and both her and the teacher began walking in the direction of the parking lot. “Come on!” Dr. Choi yelled, leading you all away from the building that was still going up in flames. Your legs shook as the panic began to subside, and a mere glance back held an aura of complete death. The first two floors of the faculty building were covered in flames, likely not an ounce left of what once was in there.

The three students—you, Nayeong, and Jaemin—were led into Dr. Choi’s car, while the other teacher went and found his own. Jaemin sat in the front while you awkwardly sat next to Nayeong, trying to process what you had just gone through.

“I cannot believe,” Dr. Choi began, starting her car and wasting no time in flooring it out of the parking lot. As you drove out onto the street next to the school, you caught sight of a fire truck in the distance, speeding towards the school. “They didn’t even try to tell us. I thought you were gone for good, [First]. Oh my god.”

Nayeong didn’t say anything, keeping her hands in her lap and her eyes out the window. You wondered what would happen to your belongings, but you weren’t nervous about it reaching the second year building when it was on the farthest edge of campus.

Dr. Choi asked Jaemin to dial a number on her phone, to which he politely obliged. You took your phone out again, which yielded several texts from Suhyeon once again and a single text from someone else.

The moment the recipient of Dr. Choi’s call picked up, she began to scream at them, but you were easily able to drown out the yelling with your focus on the text on your phone.

“Are you okay?”

You wondered, briefly, where Jeno got your number.

“I’m fine.”

vii. zeus enslaved atlas

It took a total of two hours to arrive at the hotel in which the school evacuated all the students too, and you wondered why they had to pick a fancy hotel rather than one of the respectable ones that were actually near campus. You were met with a personal greeting from the principal, who was trying to save his ass after essentially leaving the four of you (and more, most likely) for dead.

Dr. Choi didn’t waste a second to begin screaming at him some more, but you blew past her with Nayeong, who still hadn’t spoken to you but was sticking to your side practically. There was a sort of trauma-bonding between you two now, apparently, which was a bit ironic given both of your situations.

You’d been placed in a hotel room with Suhyeon, as according to your current rooming arrangements, and were told to wait in your rooms until there was more information to be distributed amongst the students. Nayeong parted from you when this happened, taking her key and disappearing off into a corridor. You chose to take the other one, walking past several students who had disregarded the plea to stay in the rooms and were now gossiping in the halls.

“I heard they might have to close the school down for a year,” somebody whispered, causing you to pause and nearly stop walking. Instead of stopping in the middle of the hall, you slipped your phone from your pocket, leaning against a wall and scrolling through random apps.

“Seriously? I guess that won’t be an issue, most of us can just transfer to another private school, but what about international and scholarship students?”

“I’m sure international students will be fine, but rumor has it the school might drop scholarship students—partial and entire. They’re scrambling to make sure their library is still intact, and, if it isn’t, they’ll need hundreds of thousands of won to restore it. They’ll never keep some upper middle class loser if it means they can keep their pride and joy safe and sound.”

There was a certain ache in your heart at that, but you were tired, and you felt like collapsing. It was funny how, just a couple weeks ago, you were panicking over your finals and doing anything to hang onto your 65-million scholarship, but, now, you didn’t feel anything. At least if you got dropped, it wouldn’t be a quasi-expulsion. You’d still have kept your pride, and your parents could complain to the school about how they had to actually pay for you, now.

You continued through the corridor, skipping the elevator for the stairs. You’d halfway forgotten what floor you were on—you’d either been told room 314 or room 414—but you weren’t too opposed to simply checking both. Holding your key up to the scanner would be enough to know, and it was unlikely the occupants of the other room would even know you tried.

Upon your ascent up the stairs, you were forced to remember the slight pain in your ankle, which had subsided greatly over the past few hours, and part of you wished you had used the elevator. The other part of you said you’d never take an elevator again, even if a gun was to your head. Each step was a testament to what you’d experienced over the past couple of years, culminating in these fleeting moments in which you had nothing left.

In a week, you supposed your dorm would be cleaned out, and you’d be hugging Suhyeon goodbye for the last time. Maybe a reporter would approach you, ask why the closing seemed so sudden, and you would tell them you almost burnt to death because they were too lazy to fix their smoke alarms. You’d tell them that the conditions to meet your scholarship were ridiculous, not because their students were too smart, but because their student’s parents had a million personal tutors at their beck and call.

You emerged onto the third floor, hit in the face with a strong scent of detergent and cleaning supplies, and began trudging through the halls. Given the couple of familiar faces—classmates you’d never spoken to before—standing next to a decorative table, you hoped the 300s were the second year floor and you didn’t have to walk up another flight.

The space between rooms was insane, and you couldn’t imagine what might be inside. A kitchen, a couch, and an entire fireplace, anything that a rich person required in their hotel room. They were much bigger than the dorms that people paid millions to live in, and this was all paid for by the school. For a brief moment, you considered your fancy, rich-person academy to be a scam—it was, you always knew it was—and wondered why they couldn’t build dorms like this. As you walked through the corridor, you realized how you barely had made it past five rooms, and wished they had picked a normal hotel for you to temporarily live in as they figured out how to break the news of your removal from the school.

You turned a corner, admiring a pretty bouquet in a terrible intricate vase that brought a smile to your face. You stopped, reaching your hands out to feel whether or not they were real and letting out a gasp of surprise when they actually were. The flowers were vibrant, yellows and purples and pinks all tied together with a wisp of baby’s breath, and perfectly taken care of; they couldn’t have been cut more than a day ago. The hotel must’ve had some sort of private gardens, as there was no way these were bought from a random flower shop down the street.

“[First]?”

The flowers lost their color, all at once. You stood up straight, looking towards Lee Jeno, who’d just so happened to find you right now.

“Jeno.”

He stared at you for a moment, his hair messy and his roots just beginning to show. He was dressed in lounge clothes, a t-shirt and black, baggy pants that looked about three sizes too big. If he didn’t say anything soon, you’d continue your trek to room 314, brushing past him and leaving him to stare at the blank wall behind you.

“Can we talk?”

“Okay.”

You turned towards him completely, crossing your arms over your chest. He cleared his throat, looking down at the floor for a moment. “Like, not in the hallway. My room…is just down the hall.”

“All right then.”

He stared at you for a moment more, halfway shocked you agreed. Maybe it was a side effect of the events of today—for a brief moment, you realized you didn’t know what time it was—from your counseling to the hours-long car ride you endured after what was likely the most traumatic moment of your life. You wanted to disappear, fall into a rabbit hole and wake up in Wonderland, where nobody would know who you were.

When he began to walk down the hall, turning his back to you, you followed, bidding your pretty bouquet goodbye. You walked deeper into the corridor, stopping at a room labeled “309.” It was at the edge of the corridor, with another hall connecting to it. You assumed 314 was down there, so it would at least be a short trip to your assumed hotel room.

Jeno tapped his keycard on the lock, a loud click accompanied by a green light resounding through your ears. He pushed the door open, heading inside and holding it open for you. As you walked in, you noticed an unfamiliar presence on the couch—Lee Donghyuck, the only golden boy you’d met before. During your first year, you’d done a group project together, you’d let him off for not doing any of his work, and you ended up vouching for him in front of the teacher; as a result, he’d gifted you a couple of candy bars and a swift thank you. “I’ll return the favor at some point,” he’d said, walking off without another word.

“Out,” Jeno said, keeping eye contact with Donghyuck. He stared up at his friend, eyebrow raised, before glancing at you.

“‘Sup, fire girl,” he said, standing from the couch. Donghyuck turned his attention to Jeno, giving him a stern, very-unlike-him glare. “You promised me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“Do you?”

With that, Donghyuck brushed past Jeno and you, emerging out into the corridor. The door slammed behind him, causing you to flinch somewhat. Jeno took a seat on the couch, right where Donghyuck was sitting, and motioned to the seat next to him. You obliged, sitting as far away from him as you possibly could and staring at him until he spoke.

“Are you doing okay?”

“No.”

“I’m…sorry you got left behind. I won’t lie, Suhyeon started crying so hard she needed to take her own car, and that worried me. A lot. I thought about things.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, looking down at his hands. “I wasn’t nice. I overreacted and was overly jealous. It’s my fault, so I apologize.”

“I understand,” you nodded. “If it’s any consolation, I’m jealous of you too.”

You leaned back into the couch, sighing. “Your family is so…picture perfect,” you began, trying to find the words to articulate your thoughts. “Sure, you have altercations, peculiar ones at that, but I could tell you were close. From the way you hugged Yeojin, to the way your mother looked at you…you’re living a dream I could only hope to have one day.”

He stayed silent, letting you talk. You figured you deserved as much, given how your day has been. “My parents are awful. I was the kid they didn’t want, and all my siblings are a lot older than me. As your dad said, one of them ended up in jail. I depend on this school to keep me away from them, so I can have a better life now rather than when I move out. Even then, I know they’ll harass me forever if I end up with a nice job with good money. You’ll never experience that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, but you shook your head, rejecting it.

“No reason to be. I can’t change who my family is, but I can change the direction my life goes. That’s all that matters.”

You felt Jeno’s eyes on you, and, when you looked over, you found him looking at you. He was pretty, as he’d always been, even when he was dressed for bed. His hair fell into his eyes, and you mentally visualized him with black hair—he looked nice no matter what.

“You’re a very beautiful person, [First].” The comment brought heat to your cheeks and caused your heart to skip a beat, and you contemplated whether or not this was what Dr. Choi meant by not rejecting him. “If…if there’s any way, I’d like to make this work. I’d like to make us work.”

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “I suppose that would be nice. I was unreasonable before, mostly because I don’t want people lessening my achievements because of who my soulmate is. Sorry.”

“I get it. My mom always told me that would happen if my soulmate ended up to be somebody ‘fiery,’ but I guess you aren’t really that,” he hummed. “You’re nice. Warm. I see why people speak so kindly about you.”

“Well…thanks. I guess.”

You looked forward, and a thought crossed your mind. Your heart dropped slightly as you deliberated whether or not it would be smart to tell him what you heard in the halls. Realizing that you’d likely be very far away from him if it ended up to be true, you knew that you absolutely had to if you wanted to create a relationship with your soulmate.

“Rumor has it the school’s gonna be canceling scholarships to bring more money in for repairs and reconstruction.”

“What? They wouldn’t cancel yours, right? I mean, you’re the only full-scholarship on campus—they can’t just kick you, can they?” he asked, scooting a bit closer to you unconsciously.

“Rumor says they’re going to cancel everybody’s scholarships,” you whispered, suddenly realizing the weight of that statement. “I’ll probably try to move in with my aunt in Seoul, go to fancy-yet-free prep school…if they do cancel it. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be around.”

Jeno went quiet, and you desperately held back the tears that were now pooling in your eyes. “I worked so hard for this, and it’ll all go to waste. Every bit of it.”

You hated how choked up you got at the thought of it, how pathetic you felt. But, Jeno didn’t seem to mind, as he hesitantly pulled you into a hug. For a moment, you both stayed there, basking in the fulfillment that came with being with your soulmate. You wondered if this is how your parents were before they grew into the monsters they were today—a couple of teenagers in love, happy with just being with one another.

“It’s okay,” he said, rubbing your back softly. “We’ll get through it together. I’ll spend any amount of money to see you frequently, I’ll get out of class, whatever we need to build. I’d pay for your tuition, but…I don’t think you’d like that.”

“Not really, no,” you mumbled, shoving your head into the crook of his neck. “I just want to feel stable, for once in my life.”

“And you will, one day. I promise you will.”

You pulled away from him, staring at him for a moment. With a heavy sigh, you stood up, with him following close behind you. “I need to go see Suhyeon,” you said. The moment you said that, there was a sudden change in the air of the room—Jeno looked nervous, almost, as if you’d caught him in the act of something. “Go do that. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.”

You walked towards the door, giving Jeno one last look before emerging into the hall. You made sure to stop the door from slamming behind you, cushioning it with your hands. As you did, though, Lee Donghyuck appeared back in the hall, stopping when he saw you. The door clicked closed, and you both stared at each other, waiting for someone to speak.

He was wearing his uniform, but it was half taken apart, with a couple of his buttons unbuttoned and his tie loosened around his neck. His shirt was untucked and his blazer was nowhere to be found, and you assumed he’d done it pretty recently, given the lack of wrinkling. He held a bag of M&Ms that he likely got from a vending machine somewhere in the hotel.

“Did he tell you?”

“You mean apologize? Yeah.”

Donghyuck sighed, popping a couple M&Ms in his mouth. “Okay, don’t get mad at me for being the bearer of bad news. Jaemin was convinced Jeno shouldn’t tell you, but this might be the one time Jaemin is in the wrong. I know you’ve had the worst day of all worst days, but you cannot go any farther without knowing this. ‘Kay?”

You furrowed your brows, a sudden feeling of anxiety overtaking you. “What? What are you talking about?”

Even Donghyuck looked nervous, from how he fiddled with the hem of his shirt with his open hand to the way he shifted his weight between his feet.

“Until about six months ago, Suhyeon and Jeno were a thing.”

All the air was sucked out of your lungs at once, and your brain shut down immediately.

“She found out you two were soulmates about a year ago, but didn’t back down until Jeno’s dad shut it down because of his new deal with Nayeong’s family.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “They still talked until a month-and-a-half ago, when Jeno decided to shut it down himself. Chenle knocked some sense into him, and Suhyeon was essentially taken out of our circle. She did everything in her power to not let you know about her friendship with us, and avoided the shit out of us whenever you were around. When pale in the face and all that shit.”

You stayed quiet. A feeling of betrayal began to bubble in your stomach.

“Don’t…blame her or anything, though. Even if she was being an asshole, even if what she did was the worst possible thing she could’ve done, she and Jeno had been fostering it for nearly three years. Love—if you could even call it that—makes people stupid. She wasn’t thinking, and neither was Jeno, until Chenle snapped at him.”

Were you a rebound, or a way for him to stay close to Suhyeon without his dad knowing? Were you his way of getting over what you had stolen from him? How could Suhyeon do this to you, after forcing her fixation with soulmates on you for so long?

You turned away from the corner that you assume led to yours and Suhyeon’s room, walking past Donghyuck with a newfound speed. You wracked your mind for her room number, assuming that she must’ve been in 414 given the likely year-separation of the floors.

You heard Donghyuck’s voice echo through the halls, a quiet “what the fuck is wrong with you, man?” and the loud slamming of his hotel door. You followed it up by yanking the door to the stairs open, letting it fly shut behind you as you began a rapid ascent. You ignored the pain in your ankle, the way your legs wanted to shut down, and practically burst onto the fourth floor.

You followed the same path you had before, and, sure enough, the corridors followed the same pattern. You took turn after turn, saw identical-bouquet after identical-bouquet, before stopping in front of room 414.

Three swift knocks, and a step back.

The door opened.

“[First]?” Nayeong said, furrowing her brows. Traces of crying were left on her face, from mascara-lined tear stains to red cheeks and puffy eyes. Seeing her ignited something in you, an intense sort of emotion that you hadn’t felt in so, so long.

And, as you burst out into tears, Nayeong dragged you into a hug and began sobbing with you.

viii. to hold up the earth on his shoulders for all eternity.

The dress you were wearing was absolutely, irrevocably uncomfortable.

Several hidden wires dug into your torso, a product of the bodice of the thing, and you swore you were bleeding in an area where the fabric rubbed against you wrong. Nevertheless, you wore it proudly, hair done up and makeup perfectly complimenting your features. After all, it wasn’t every day you got to attend the wedding of your soulmate—to someone other than you, that is.

Lee Donghyuck sat next to you, dressed in a matching suit to your dress and his leg crossed over the other. A toothpick hung out of his mouth, and he anxiously chewed on it, tapping his fingers against his knee as he waited. You’d both come in support of the couple and to try and masquerade as a couple to Jeno’s father, who was apparently very displeased when he saw your name on the invite list.

“Nayeong told me she’s considering eloping with her girlfriend,” you hummed, once again adjusting your sitting position so that your dress stopped trying to kill you. “Disappearing into a small, European country. Changing her name and getting married. Apparently, her girlfriend has the tickets bought and everything.”

“And why doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t want to force the marriage-of-convenience role onto her sister,” you sighed, shaking your head. “What a superhero she is.”

“You know, if you’d had another year at the academy, you probably would be the bride here,” Donghyuck suggested, turning towards you. You received a glare from the woman sitting a couple seats to your left, who then whispered something to her husband.

“Not so loud. We’re gonna get kicked out.”

“I’m not lying, though. Since Jaemin nearly beat me up, I’ve never been yelled at more in my life—I had to help Jeno with his comeback plan. We got it done and then we went to Suhyeon’s room and you weren’t there and she looked at Jeno like he was satan’s incarnate.”

“Suhyeon and I weren’t going to last as friends anyway. Too different. We clung to each other too much, too. Recipe for disaster.”

“Right? Anyway, if the school hadn’t been so quick to decide to cut you off, you’d be the bride. Hundred percent.”

“Where is Jaemin, anyway?” you asked, cutting the conversation topic short. According to Nayeong’s perfectly curated seating chart, he was meant to be sitting next to you right now, blabbing away about how Donghyuck ruined Jeno’s one chance at happiness by telling you about Suhyeon rather than letting Jeno do it.

“Jaemin is right here,” he said, taking the seat next to you. You and Donghyuck looked over at him, instantly picking up on the panickedness he seemed to be exuding. “And nobody can find the bride and groom. Jeno’s dad is on a warpath right now, along with Nayeong’s mother.”

“Ooh, Europe worked out,” you joked, holding up your fist. Donghyuck bumped yours against his, chuckling as well.

“Made me call him a million times, and he didn’t pick up. I suggested getting you to call Nayeong, but they looked so appalled at the suggestion that I could’ve told them I was in love with Jeno and we got married in Vegas last night.”

“That was descriptive. Did you?”

Jaemin scoffed, not getting a straight answer. Instead, he tucked his phone in his blazer pocket, focusing on you. “Nayeong’s probably on the plane by now, but we don’t know where Jeno is.”

“Okay. And?”

“He’s suggesting you should go find him, dumbshit,” Donghyuck clarified, flicking your shoulder. You put your hand on it, pretending like he’d just stabbed you in the arm, but Jaemin quickly slapped your shoulder to avoid you causing a bit of a scene.

“I don’t even know his number. Deleted it from my phone about twenty minutes after Donghyuck broke the Jesu news to me.”

Donghyuck snorted, leaning back into his chair. In passing, he said, “No way you gave them a ship name,” but Jaemin ignored his comment pretty readily.

“Good news! I have it memorized. Give me your phone.”

Jaemin didn’t wait for you to hand it to him, simply snatching it up off your lap and unlocking it (you weren’t sure where he got the password, but you wouldn’t question it). He began typing what you assumed to be his phone number without even thinking about it.

“You sure you didn’t get married in Vegas?”

“Positive,” Jaemin said, handing the phone back to you. He scooped up your purse from the ground, shoving it into your arms and proceeding to point towards a set of doors off to the side of the banquet hall. “Go out there and down the hall. Door at the end goes to the back parking lot, where Jeno parked earlier. He’s either out there or waiting for someone worth it to call him, and someone worth it would be you.”

“And what am I gonna say?”

“I don’t know,” Jaemin said, acting like you’d asked him the most insane question in the world. “Figure it out yourself. Update me. Hyuck and I will hold down the fort until we hear from you.”

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to focus on you for a moment. A part of you wished you’d faded into oblivion after high school; being who you were, your merit reached about every end of the world. You lived in an academic spotlight, gaining the attention of universities both near and far. Jeno never came to visit you at your aunt’s house like he had shallowly promised, right before he missed his one chance to tell you the truth.

You stood up, and began your power walk to the door. Now that his fiancé was on her way to a small, European country and likely had all the assets she needed to become untraceable, Jeno would have to deal with the wrath of his father, who would feed him the same “I’m not mad, just disappointed” spiel.

You pushed the door open, hanging your bag off your shoulder and wishing your dress wasn’t so uncomfortable. Sure enough, a text came in from Nayeong—a selfie of her and her girlfriend, whom you had never met, in a plane. She was still fully prepared for marriage, only missing the wedding dress; her hair was perfectly done, the tiara was still there, and her makeup was untouched. Her girlfriend looked much more relaxed, makeupless and hair spread about.

They looked happy. So, as a result, you were happy, and could only hope she would tell you which small, European country she was living in so you could visit. Another text came in, this one from your mother, but you ignored it and continued out into the parking lot.

There was only one car that was running, and it was parked in a corner. It was black and the windows were tinted to high heaven, and you could only assume that would be where the missing groom was. You marched through the parking lot, repeating a mantra of self-support in your mind. This was one of those situations where you should’ve been anxious, but you couldn’t feel a thing; you’d grown used to not feeling anything over the years, but, in situations like these, it always felt uncomfortable.

You stopped a little bit before the car, making sure you were out of sight. You stared for a moment, blinking a couple of times and trying to muster up any sort of anxiety, but you could only manage a small kick in the bottom of your stomach. With a sigh, you approached.

You opened the car door, which was shockingly unlocked, and got into the passenger’s seat. Jeno didn’t turn to look at you, just drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and staring forward. “Can you take me to my apartment? If the wedding isn’t happening, I don’t want to sit in this dress any longer.”

He didn’t waste a moment to put the car in reverse, backing out of the spot with ease. He put a hand on the back of your seat, turning his whole body to look out of the back window even though he had one of those backup cameras. You wondered if he was trying to impress you, but found it unlikely given how unhappy he seemed.

When he managed to back out completely and was forced to turn his focus to the road, you took the chance to give him a once-over. You hadn’t seen Jeno since a banquet two years ago, where you’d been invited after one of your professors insisted you had to share your paper. You’d mingled with people in much higher places than you, smiling and discussing things you didn't care about, barely speaking about your academic ventures. Jeno had been there, too, hanging off Nayeong’s arm like he’d once done to you. They spent the whole night gossiping, sitting together and whispering about things you couldn’t imagine. Back then, when he was 20 years old, his hair had still been blonde and he had still carried that gold boy demeanor he loved so much. Now, his hair was pitch black, and he gave off the energy of someone who was completely and utterly in control of his life.

Judging by the way he blatantly ignored the people who’d begun running after his car, you assumed the energy mirrored the truth. He turned out onto the street, speeding away from the banquet hall that had a million cars around it. “Lots of presents oughta be returned tonight, huh,” you mused, adjusting your sit once again. “I bet it’s annoying and relieving all at once.”

“My dad’s gonna blame this all on me,” he sighed, continuing to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. “Where do you live?”

“Trimage Towers. Anyway, he can’t blame it all on you if Nayeong’s a lesbian. I mean, it’s not like you had any jurisdiction over that.”

Jeno hesitated for a moment, slowing down for a red light. Thanks to the location of the fancy banquet hall, the towers were already in sight, and you could practically feel the relief of taking this awful dress off.

“You really can’t feel anything, huh.”

“I can feel things, just not a lot. I’d be able to feel things if you would’ve gotten over me,” you hummed, looking out the passenger window. “I’m serious, Jeno. Find a new girl. Pick her over me. We will both be happier that way.”

“So you’re rejecting me over a relationship that started when I was in middle school?” he asked, and, at that moment, you understood it was a bit ridiculous. You were sure you’d see it in a more intuitive way had you retained your emotions, but such was the price of rejecting one’s other half.

“I don’t know. I haven’t felt anything since then. I’m content with it now, so I don’t really feel like I can love anyone. Make a decision based on love. Who knows,” you replied, feeling your phone buzz. You picked it up—another text from your mom. This time, though, she called you a couple of names for ignoring her texts and not sending her any money.

Jeno suddenly took a sharp turn, pulling into an empty parking lot next to an office building, which you assumed to be empty because it was Saturday. He pulled around to the back, parking in a spot next to a few trees. It was well hidden, likely a tactic for avoiding anyone chasing him.

“What can I do to fix it?” he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’m serious. I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

The slightest bit of sympathy graced your heart, but not enough to change anything. You sighed, looking up at the ceiling of the car. “Not sure.”

“What, should I confess my love to you?” he asked, which caught your attention. You looked over, biting the edge of your lip. “I barely know you, [First], yet I am deeply in love with you. Every time I hear something about you from Nayeong, or from Donghyuck, or from Jaemin, I feel the most intense regret that I decided to ignore Donghyuck’s advice and trust Jaemin more. All I could tell you about yourself are things everyone else knows and whatever my friends have told me, yet I’d still pick you over anybody else.”

Your heart sped up, but you still felt numb to the world. Maybe Dr. Choi had been right—maybe it wasn’t worth it to lose all feeling when you were 17. Maybe, if things had gone better, you would have been the bride today.

“Okay.”

“Is there any way? Any way at all that we could try? I know I’ve asked before, and I was disingenuous then, but I’m not a kid anymore. Neither are you. Things could be different.”

“Could they?” you finally bit into the conversation, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “I just—I can’t comprehend it. I’m a work machine. I walk into the office and stay for hours, reviewing my coworker’s pieces and writing my own based on what I’m given. I’m told that one day, I’ll be one of the greats of journalism thanks to my ability to work until I give out. Will that go away if I let this happen? Will I lose opportunity if I let myself love? I’m not really sure.”

“What makes you think that?” Jeno shot back. “What makes you think a little emotion would destroy your career?”

“Most, if not all of my superiors are soulmate-less or have purposefully gone out of their way to reject their soulmates. It’s standard.”

“You can break the standard, then.”

A bit of anger began to bubble in your stomach. “Could I? I already have it worse by having absolutely no nepotism to back me up, and I’ve got a world of expectation on me based on how I graduated at the top of everything, in every year of schooling I’ve ever had. I have a bad family to keep under wraps, and I have to pay them off to keep them quiet. I can’t afford to be pushing any stereotypes when I’ve got a million other things to work through.”

“I can be your credible, important connection, then. How easy is that?”

“I’d rather die than be a nepotism baby.”

“Then what are you looking for?” “Nothing, Jeno! I’m looking for nothing!” you finally exclaimed, the anger bubbling over the top. “I’m looking to leave this behind us and separate ourselves from each other! I’d rather die than keep living a life that orbits around you! I just—I just want to be myself.”

“Then I’ll orbit around you. I’ll stay out of it and I’ll treat your every beck and call—”

“Shut up, Jeno.”

“I’ll be the one who’s connected to you. I won’t be Lee Jeno, son of that one guy who got to live easy because of his grandfather’s work—”

“Jeno, please.”

“And I’ll dedicate my everything to you, master journalist, the most goddamn successful person in the world, all thanks to herself—”

You’re unsure what came over you at that moment. In your fit of anger, wanting Jeno to just shut up, you grabbed the sides of his face, and you kissed him. There was a moment where you couldn’t believe yourself, where you truly thought you’d open your eyes and be back in the banquet hall, discussing where Jaemin was with Donghyuck. In that moment, Jeno would walk out, make his way to the altar, and Nayeong would follow.

They would look miserable. You would know they were miserable. You would know you could’ve prevented their misery. You’d feel nothing. You’d go home, Donghyuck driving you, and you’d go to bed, ready to go into work the next day.

One opening of your eyes revealed to you that you were, in fact, kissing Lee Jeno. He didn’t seem to mind the suddenness of it—obviously—reaching over the center console to lace his fingers into your perfectly wavy hair. He smiled into the kiss, as if he was the most satisfied man in the world, as if he was the only man in the world.

You closed them again, and felt fireworks burst within you. Although they hadn’t returned like you thought they would, you felt a mixture of very mellow emotions pooling in your stomach, and you realized maybe Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck had a plot.

You pulled away from him, dropping your hands from his face. He did not try to separate himself from you, though, waiting for you to recite the words he’d be wanting you to recite. “An academic article by psychologist Kim Sowol. The best way to incite emotion in someone who’s rejected their soulmate is to anger them.”

He dropped his hands now, too, laying them on top of yours. “Nayeong sent it to me.”

You stayed quiet, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate you. Never speak to me again.”

Jeno put his hands back on the wheel, reversing the car once more and taking you back out onto the road. “Yeah, okay. Next stop, your apartment. Text Jaemin that it worked for me, would you?”

You scoffed. “No. Shut up.”

“Your wish is my command, my dear.”

thank you for reading!

tags:

@dziewoja07 @pewpewpwe00 @mings-cafe @yutensoul @iioyous @shepeelsoranges @loeycity @misakiise @000rpheus @eunbi4eva @jenonoon @travelleratheart101 @hesbambi @minchoco @swagzombiefart @eunbi4eva @wonluvrbot

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loevhyuck · 8 months

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#they're my soulmates #forced....#i want to cry #nct #nct mark #mark lee #mark #nct haechan #haechan #nct donghyuck #donghyuck #hyuckie #markhyuck #mahae #lee minhyung #lee haechan

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fics-lovebot · 8 months

Text

fic recs masterlist

Hello!, here I´ll be constantly adding new recs, that includes kpop (boy groups), anime (men only) and not fandom related ones. also, 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 in advance❤️

BTS

ot7 / poly

namjoon

seokjin

yoongi

hoseok

jimin

taehyung

jungkook

SEVENTEEN

ATEEZ

TXT

STRAY KIDS

MONSTA X

NCT 127 / DREAM / WAY V

THE BOYZ

ENHYPEN

RIIZE

ANIME

NOT FANDOM RELATED

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slightlymore · 1 year

Text

i will not vanish | two

I will not vanish [MASTERLIST] is a companion series/backstory to the ‘soulmates collection’ [doyoung]

demon haechan x fem reader

genre: fantasy, smut, angst!!, comedic and fluff elements, tarot reader haechan

warnings and content: +18, explicit sexual content, oral f, body worshipping, titty sucking, first time penetrative sex for reader, fingering, breeding kink, unprotected and pulling out then protected (?), cum play, dirty talk, biting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, finger sucking, sexual tension, mutual pining, slow burn, tarot readings, fight scenes and use of swords/knives, magic snakes, wounds, swearing

other characters: demon jeno, immortal jaemin, doyoung, selene (oc), archangel mark

words: 17k

soulmates universe equivalent: my soulmate loves wine

note: the terminology used [demon, angel, archangel] has no correlation to the usual religious connotations

Mark was a peculiar man, you thought.

His eyes were dark as carbon just like his hair. They would pierce into yours as if they could read your mind. Perhaps, he could. He was an Archangel after all.

But he didn't feel frightening when he approached you that day, gently sitting on the dying grass near you.

“Are you my guardian Angel?” you finally spoke after his short monologue, explaining who he was.

Mark chuckled, closing his eyes, and showing white shiny teeth.

“No, I am not. And Haechan is not your guardian Demon either.”

He didn’t bother to explain how he knew you were thinking precisely that.

You swallowed.

“But you can come with me and ask him that yourself.”

When Mark said he knew where Haechan had run to, you had no idea that convincing the University Rector to suddenly let you take a gap year was going to be the most difficult thing to do.

“What if I promise you that I will get a sick as fuck dissertation on this travel? You’ll get so much fame and so many people will want to come and study here.”

The woman was slightly swinging back and forth in her huge chair as if unsure.

“Well, if you write it the same way you speak, I’m not sold.”

You fought the urge to sigh. “I am the smartest person in Slytherin.”

“That’s not true. It is, in fact, Kim Doyoun-”

“Okay, I’m the second smartest person in Slytherin.” You felt your eyebrow twitch.

“What’s even the topic?” she looked bored.

“Parallel universes,” you were firm.

The Rector had to hide a patronizing smile. “Research on parallel universes.”

Your fist tightened. “I think it’s absurd how we have all sorts of magic, and we can fly and stuff, and we don’t believe in parallel universes and people - no, beings - travelling to them through portals.”

“What would these beings be?”

You were unsure. Angels? Demons? Could that actually be the case or were Haechan and his weird friend group pulling the biggest prank in history?

“That would be my my research question, ma’am.”

You were so convincing that you convinced yourself as well. Or at least, you tried to not think too deeply about it.

But when you reached the city Mark gave you an appointment in, you fought the urge to run back home.

What were you doing? Were you that stupid and gullible to believe a stranger and follow him around?

Maybe.

But Haechan has always looked very strange to you as well. His magic wasn’t of your world, and the way both he and Jeno disappeared all of sudden wasn’t normal. You had to find out what the hell was going on.

“You actually came,” Mark commented, raising his eyes from the phone he was holding.

The man was sitting at a small round table, in front of a café, a steamy coffee to blur his face.

You sat down as well and looked around.

People were walking by and not giving both of you a single glance.

Of course, you just looked like two normal people having a conversation at a café. You had no idea why you felt like an undercover spy instead.

“So, where is he?”

You meant Haechan.

Mark leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms on his chest. He looked so confident that it was making you feel anxious as if you somehow fell into his trap.

“He’s right here,” he tilted his head towards the entrance of the coffee shop.

You looked at it, snapping your head. Some employees were inside but none of them looked like Haechan.

“Not here here. In the Universe he is right now this place is not a café but a tarot shop. That’s where you’ll go.”

“A tarot shop?”

Mark nodded.

“And he’s there.”

He nodded again.

“How do I reach him?”

Mark extended one hand on the table. You looked at his fingers. The palm was facing up and he had one faint scar in the middle of it.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

You had no idea what you expected to happen as you leaned forward and slowly brushed your fingertips with his. But you expected it to be something.

Yet nothing happened.

No electricity, no headache, no vision, no portal transportation. Just you and that strange man holding hands.

For a second you thought he was some type of creep, and you gathered all the magic you could feel ready to blow him the fuck away. But then his eyes became completely white, no iris and no pupils, and you gasped.

In a second his eyes came back to their usual very dark brown and he smiled.

“Tomorrow, come back here. Have a good night's sleep, that’s crucial. You’ll find him inside.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked quickly before he could get up.

“I thought you wanted to know where he is.”

You cleared your throat. “I’m just generally curious about him and you and this situation. From an Academic point of view. I’ll write a paper.”

Mark nodded as if not believing one single word. “You’re useful to me.”

“How?”

“You’ll bother him a lot.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. You wanted to ask more questions but just like the first time he spoke to you, you blinked and he was gone.

That morning you woke up after a good night's sleep, completely unaware you were in a different Universe with the task of finding a man called Haechan.

Haechan, Jaemin and Jeno were in silence at the round table. The first had a concentrated face as if he were completely in his head. The second looked bored and the third was simply waiting.

“I know,” the Demon finally broke the silence. “Kimchi jjigae.”

Jaemin’s mouth opened while his eyes closed. “Unbelievable.”

Jeno looked like about to attack at any time. “Were you thinking about what to have for dinner this whole damn time? I thought we were on a mission.”

Haechan eyed the other’s veiny fists. “Chill out. I figured out the plan in the first three seconds and then I wondered about food for the rest of the time. Who do you think I am? I thought by now you would have known I am a genius. Olay, you-” he indicated to Jeno, “Selene. And you-” he said to Jaemin, “Doyoung.”

“I have to pretend to be Doyoung and romance Jeno, who's pretending to be Selene?” Jaemin asked, confused.

“I regret every waking hour that I helped you survive,” Jeno didn’t look amused.

Haechan sighed. “Jaemin, I did say you don’t have to think when I am around, but I didn’t mean you don’t have to use your brain at all.”

Jaemin leaned back in his chair with a smirk as if acting dumb has been his plan all along.

“I have to take care of Selene and Jaemin will take care of Doyoung. To push them together,” Jeno guessed.

Haechan nodded.

“And what will you do?” Jaemin asked.

“I’ll be the glue,” Haechan answered. “Selene is gullible as hell in this Universe. I was thinking something like giving her a Tarot reading. Telling her a man is coming and describing him exactly like Doyoung.”

He chuckled as if he was about to prank someone and the other two sighed.

“It’s going to be easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

Haechan watched Jeno trip on his own feet and scratched his eyebrow. “Okay, maybe it’s going to be more so difficult difficult lemon difficult.”

“I don’t know why I have to pretend to be a girl. I can be her friend even if I’m a man,” Jeno was mad, hands on his hips and long black hair in his face.

“Stressy depressy lemon zesty,” Jaemin commented from his chair after having a good laugh.

“I need you to be her only friend, my dude. Every single person in her life it’s going to be just you.”

“That’s fucking crazy. I feel sorry for Selene,” Jaemin sighed.

Jeno, or the woman who looked like someone related to Jeno, sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. “This is going to take a long time.”

“Consider this a vacation. Let’s take it easy. Where are we rushing? We have eternity. My book-” Haechan patted an old tome resting on his desk, “says wine business. There’s no way in hell she’s into the alcohol business right now. I stalked. She’s in her last year of university.”

“You’re a stalker?”

“I’m a Demon. That's basically the same thing."

"I am a Demon, and I am not a stalker," Woman-Jeno lifted one eyebrow.

Haechan felt weird seeing him like that. "Did you really have to make yourself this sexy? What if Doyoung falls in love with you instead of Selene? No. What if one of us falls in love with y-"

Woman-Jeno disappeared to show a very angry Man-Jeno about to whoop Haechan's ass.

The day felt quite cold and you shivered after opening the front door.

Was it already sweater weather? The song played in your head as you turned around to run the stairs and grab something warmer from your closet. It would be nice for someone to hold both of your hands in the holes of their sweater, you thought with a melancholic smile.

But there was no one.

After wearing a clean hoodie you noticed the corner of a red and gold scarf, hidden under piles of hats and gloves. You’ve never seen it before and you wondered if your grandma put it there when she announced she was cleaning her closet. Perhaps a nice scarf was needed that morning, you realized. You grabbed it and felt it between your fingertips. It was very good quality and almost pristine.

Why did your grandma give it away? Then you shrugged and put it on.

Running the stairs again your fingers brushed over the “HC” embroidered on the bottom and you made a mental note to search the brand online.

It was the first day of work after graduating from university and the only company that accepted your CV has been this shady wine company. They barely had any information online but the contract seemed legit. Your task was managing the social media accounts so it made sense for them to not have anything prior if they hired you. Ideally, you wanted to do something more artistic. Like doing art for some weird brand or-

you stopped in place. A tarot shop?

You looked around as if checking if others were curious about the place as you suddenly got too but there was no one around.

Weird, you thought. It was a Monday morning after all.

Your eyes darted towards the shop’s glass windows again. It was closed and the lights were turned off. Your reflection looked spectral and you blinked seeing how your lipstick was a little bit smudged on your chin.

Haechan inhaled suddenly, eyes on the outside of their fake Tarot shop. Behind the glass, you were trying to look inside. It was closed so you thought no one could see you while you were touching up on your makeup in the reflection.

Jeno and Jaemin looked at Haechan first then in the direction he was staring at since they felt him freeze up.

Jeno’s eyes widened at the sight.

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows confused. “What’s up with you guys? Do you know her?”

Haechan stood up in a second, knocking down the crystal ball from the desk with a shattering sound but Jeno’s iron fist stopped him by grabbing his forearm.

“Don’t.”

Haechan’s eyes were incendiary. “Let go.”

“No.”

“I said-”

“What are you going to do huh? Talk to her? Say what? You’re a Demon and you just talked in another universe a few days ago which felt like years? She doesn’t remember you.” Jeno scolded him but his expression relaxed as Haechan looked up, exchanging a look with him. He looked devastated.

“Haechan…”

Haechan shook his head with a tired chuckle. “No, you’re right.” He sat back down and rested his head in his palm, pretending to be busy looking in his book. The crystal ball turned intact on his desk as if it never fell.

“Haechan?”

“Jeno, it’s okay. I said you’re right. I’m not going to do anything stupid-”

“No, dumbass. Look!” Jeno lightly hit his shoulder.

You adjusted the big red and yellow scarf around your neck in the window's reflection. Haechan could see the bright “HC” letters on the bottom of it as you walked away.

Haechan had to fight the urge to search for you. The Y/N you were in this universe wasn’t like the Slytherin he grew to-

To what?

Love?

Haechan wasn’t in love. He couldn’t be.

He was a Demon.

Whatever he felt in that Universe almost disappeared during the travel, proof that it was the human flesh he wore to be attracted to you and not his real self.

But you were wearing the scarf he left behind. That was impossible unless that version of you was the Slytherin.

But humans can’t travel.

Haechan shook his head. He opened his book and sighed. In a few months, he’d give a tarot reading to both Doyoung and Selene.

Time flies when you’re pretending to be human.

The cards were neatly piled up and he smiled. Just a simple tool and it makes people lose their minds. He grabbed them and shuffled, pulling a card for himself.

The Tower.

He furrowed his eyebrows and suddenly exhaled like a dog sensing danger, eyes trained on the entrance. He turned all of the candles off while turning invisible.

“Is anyone there?” your voice could be heard before Haechan could see your face peeking through the crack of the door. He could feel you coming.

“Hello? I saw the lights on and thought it was open. Are you already closing?” you asked again.

You stepped in cautiously and looked around with tight eyes, unable to see much.

Haechan turned on one candle on the desk. “Who are you?” he asked.

You muffled a scream with your palms. Your wide eyes looked around again but Haechan was still invisible.

“I-” you tried to speak. “I am Y/N. I was interested in getting a reading.”

Haechan chuckled silently. You didn’t look like you wanted the reading anymore.

He turned on the rest of the candles and the room warmed up while he appeared from the shadows, this time gently to not scare you any further.

“Welcome. You can sit down here,” he indicated in front of himself.

You exhaled and blinked, eying him from head to toe.

When you decided to finally enter that Tarot shop after walking in front of it for weeks you didn’t expect to be met by a very handsome young man.

The place has been creepy for a moment but then it became so cosy that you felt at ease on the chair, staring at the way the man’s fingers were expertly shuffling the cards. It almost put you to sleep.

His hands were delicate but manly, with a single ring adorning them, and a silver watch on his wrist.

You thought he looked too modern for being in a Tarot Shop.

“Can you please blow on these?” he asked.

“Huh?” you lifted your head to look him in the eyes. They were very warm but with a piercing darkness you didn’t like, as if something bad would happen if you stared too much into them.

“Oh, sure,” you did as you were told, hoping you didn’t have bad breath.

The man shuffled again and spread them in front of you.

“I’ll let you choose,” he said.

His voice was melodic like a snake playing with its prey.

You looked at the back of the dark red cards then exchanged a look again. “I didn’t say what my question is.”

“I know without you telling me.”

That amused you and the seed of wanting to prove him wrong got the best of you. “Really?”

The man nodded with a little cunning smile.

“What is it then?”

He leaned back in the chair and pushed back his hair. He definitely didn’t look like he knew what he was doing. Was his grandma - the actual tarot reader - in the toilet?

“Will I ever find someone to hold my hands in the holes of their sweater?” he whispered.

Your heart dropped.

“How do you know that?”

The man’s eyes twinkled. “It’s my job.”

You suddenly didn’t feel safe anymore but not in a bad way. You looked down at the cards and you chose one, turning it.

It was the Page of Swords, or at least that was written on it. The image was of a young boy holding, well, a sword.

You looked up at the man for an explanation.

“You’re asking a good question. It also means that you might find a lover in some kind of mentor or a studying field.”

“I’m done studying. I’m working now.”

“We’re never done learning.”

That sounded like something an old grandpa would say and the mixed signals that the young man was giving, both young and millennials years old, were throwing you off.

“So, I’ll find a lover in a teacher?” you were weirded out.

“Maybe. Or you’ll find a lover while you research something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Is there something on your mind that you want to research?”

“I wanted to research this place,” you started then ended with a lower voice, realizing how that could sound to him.

You weren’t trying to hit on him, although he looked- well he was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life. If you could have a lover to hold your hands in the holes of his sweater you’d definitely imagine him like the young tarot reader in front of you.

“Well, maybe you’ll find your lover like this.”

His expression didn’t give you any information on what he was thinking.

You looked back down at the card and pulled another one. It was Strength.

You couldn’t tell what that could mean regarding everything else. On it, a woman was grabbing a lion with the symbol of infinity on her head. She didn’t look afraid or tired. She looked at peace.

“Is that my lover?”

“The Lion?”

You nodded.

“That’s an enemy,” he explained.

“What? I don’t have enemies.”

The Tarot man’s eyes were flickering like the candles in front of him. “You have a task,” he whispered.

He looked like he was in a trance and for a moment it spooked you. The young man looked surprised. But then he looked at you. “Give me your hand.”

His tone was calm but intense and you didn’t even think of not doing as he said.

You noticed your fingers were trembling a little as you put your palm on top of his. His skin felt soft but firm, just like what you imagined a man’s touch would be like.

Nothing happened for a second but then the man screamed and got on his feet, holding his wrist with the other hand.

You got up as well, the incriminating palm to your mouth, watching in horror the way his fingers were turning charcoal black.

“What the fuck is going on? This is not a funny trick!” you accused him.

The young man didn’t pay any attention to you, his soft brown curls becoming jet black and straight in his eyes, the veins on his back popping as his mouth was open in a silent scream.

“I will- I will write a complaint!” you added, sure it was some kind of elaborate joke. “It is not okay to bring it this far!”

But then the man fell to his knees and on his side with a thud.

You ran around the table and crouched down, the sweat suddenly accumulated on your forehead making your eyes burn. Or maybe they were tears?

“Hey?” you whimpered, afraid to touch him a second time. “This is not funny, please stop,” you tried again and the drops that fell on his arm were tears, this time you were sure. They burned his shirt and blackened his skin. You put your palm on your mouth and slid back until hitting the desk with your blades.

With a loud thud the front door opened and a tall man appeared in front of you with the angriest expression you’ve ever seen on a human.

“What have you done?”

“I think you should sit down and have a cup of tea,” the young man you learned was called Jaemin addressed the tall and scary young man who interrogated you for what felt like while years while the Tarot man was lying unconscious on the couch. You were occupying the other one, right in the front with Jaemin, who kept pouring you tea although you didn’t want any anymore. The scary man never stopped pacing the room and you wondered when the floor would cave in.

“Don’t piss me off,” Jeno replied.

Jaemin rolled his eyes and although you were feeling sick to your stomach at the situation, his energy was very calming and healing, so you let the corner of your mouth turn up for a moment when he locked eyes with you.

“Maybe if you sit down, you can think better. I don’t think you’re able to do two things at the same time.”

“You think this is a time to joke.”

“I just got possessed by Haechan’s spirit while it left his body, I don’t know what to tell you.”

That was the first time they said the Tarot man’s name and you understood they were talking about him because they both stared at his unconscious face - Jaemin with actual worry that he was trying to hide with jokes and Jeno with love that he was trying to hide with anger.

You didn’t like the way Jaemin said that his spirit left his body.

They also said going to a hospital is not going to help so you stopped insisting. And when you asked who or what they were they didn’t reply.

Finally, when you asked what happened to Haechan, Jaemin made sure to assure you that you didn’t do anything wrong while Jeno was firm on the fact that Haechan would be awake if you never placed a foot in that shop in the first place.

You also regretted coming.

“Do you have any- adulterer adult to resolve this? Like a parent or a teacher?” you tried again with a timid voice. Jeno sighed as if annoyed to hear your voice while Jaemin poured some tea for himself and faced you like some sort of kindergarten teacher.

“That’s him.”

You took a few seconds to process.

“He-,” for some reason you felt too shy to pronounce his name, “is your parent?”

Jeno groaned again as if that would be his biggest nightmare and Jaemin laughed. “Not like that, but yes. For how weird it might seem, Haechan is the chaotic parental figure. If there’s something someone should know it’s usually him. If he didn’t foresee this happening, then we’re against-”

“Another parental figure,” Jeno interrupted.

Jaemin’s jovial expression dropped. The gaze he exchanged with Jeno was so intense and full of information that your intestines twirled on themselves.

“Why attack now?” Jaemin asked. You had no idea what was going on.

“He found a weakness,” Jeno replied and looked at you. His eyes weren’t kind.

“I am a weakness? For whom?” you were starting to get mad yourself.

That Tarot dude scared you to death, the other dudes interrogated you, keeping you there, blaming you for whatever happened, without wanting to explain anything, and now they accused you of something else too?

“Don’t answer that,” Haechan cawed.

Jeno moved so fast near the couch that for a moment you thought he teleported.

Maybe he did.

“Fuck man, I thought you were gone for good.”

“You would have liked to see me gone,” Haechan tried to cackle but groaned in pain instead.

Jaemin moved just as quickly and brought Haechan a glass of water. “Can you lift yourself? How are you feeling?”

“Oh,” his eyes were still closed, and he chuckled, “I feel like I’ve been to hell.”

The other men didn’t laugh with him and from their expression, it was as if Haechan literally descended into Hell in the past hour.

When he opened his eyes, his pupils were fixed on you, and you noticed how black they were. His burned hands were still black fading towards the middle of his forearms. You thought he’d leave prints on the glass, but he didn’t.

“Well, I didn’t expect that to happen,” he commented after finishing it. He let the others help him to sit up and when he extended his head back as if the movement caused him great pain you saw the lettering of a silver tattoo on his neck. You had no idea if he had it before. You slowly turned your head to the side to be able to see what was written but Haechan put a palm on it.

“Nosy,” he simply said.

You straightened your back, embarrassed.

“I think she needs to know,” Jaemin said suddenly.

They were talking about you as if you weren’t there. “What do I need to know?”

They ignored you. “I just need to stay away from her,” Haechan opened his eyes and stared at his burned hands with disgust.

“And will you?” Jeno wasn’t impressed.

“Are you joking? After the literal Hell I’ve been through? Of course, I will.”

You didn’t understand anything of what was being said but you somehow felt hurt.

“Okay, I am going home.”

“No, you’re not going anywhere,” Haechan stopped you in your tracks.

“Haechan,” Jeno’s voice was a low warning.

“I can’t let her roam around. Who knows what’s going to happen?” he explained extending his thin fingers.

“You can’t keep her near you. You’re Superman and she’s Kryptonite!” Jaemin added.

“I am a person, and I can hear you talk!” you raised your voice, and all the candles went off.

Jeno’s eyebrows were furrowed when he turned them on in the same instant.

“Was that you?” Haechan asked after a moment of silence. His tone was grave.

You gulped and stepped back. “No.”

They all exchanged a look as if to check if some of them did that instead, and then they looked at you again like some sort of Fates about to decide on your destiny.

“Get her,” Haechan spoke and in the same instant Jeno’s hands were on your arms, materializing in front of you.

Panic washed over you as you tried to escape but he was too strong. “Let me go! What are you doing? Back off!” you screamed.

Jeno’s body flew across the room, landing on the desk and crashing it. Jaemin stepped towards you, but you raised one arm and he got hung against the wall as if an invisible snake kept him in the air by the throat.

You turned around, trying to find a way to run towards the door by avoiding Jeno who was already on his feet and, if possible, even angrier than before. But someone’s shadow obscured your face and you realized you were mere centimetres from Haechan. You didn’t bother to understand how he moved so quickly to be there, but one thing you knew, your touch for him was deadly so just one little-

your body was frozen. You tried to speak but you couldn’t move, not even the tip of your tongue.

“Now,” Haechan sounded exhausted. “There’s no need to be this aggressive. We don’t want to hurt you. Although I see you have no issues hurting us.”

His eyes were even darker than before, accentuated by the black eye circles. He looked like someone who actually just returned from Hell.

“You’re going to get all the information you want but you need to be a good girl and stay here. Is this clear?”

As if he was giving you a choice.

“I’ll take it as a yes although you can’t move. Nice to see you again, miss Slytherin.”

You couldn’t remember when or how you fell asleep, if you did at all, or if they knocked you out instead.

But you woke up in a big white bed and you realized you were wearing soft orange pyjamas with sunflowers on. The shame and anger washed over you at the thought of any of those disgusting men undressing you while you were forcefully unconscious last night.

“I can sense you’re awake,” a voice you grew to find annoying could be heard behind the door. The room was spacious and airy. It was probably some guest room because it didn’t fit any of the dudes’ personalities.

“Can I come in? I have breakfast.”

“As if I have any choices to make,” you mumbled.

The door opened and Haechan walked in with a tray. “You can choose what to eat for breakfast.”

“Kidnapping, assault and battery, psychological abuse, conspiracy-”

“But I also have flaws.”

“Sexual-”

“Hey hey hey, no one did anything sexual,” he interrupted drawing the line at that.

“You changed me of my clothes into this!” you indicated your body. “While I was unconscious! Hell knows what you did to me!”

Haechan sighed and put the tray on the nightstand. Then he snapped his fingers, and you were back in your clothes.

They were dusty and sweaty.

“No one undressed you and no one did anything to you.”

You were still looking down at your body as if not believing you were awake.

Haechan snapped his fingers again and you were wearing a different set of clothes. Then another one.

Then a dress with heels.

Then a fur suit.

“Okay okay okay! I get it!”

Haechan snapped them again and you were back in your fuzzy pyjamas.

“Also, there was no assault, no psychological abuse, no conspiracy.”

“You did kidnap me though.”

Haechan thought about it for a moment turning his head to the side. “I did yes. It’s either kidnapping or me letting you go, but becoming your stalker. Choose.”

“I don’t understand why this is necessary.”

“Listen, I don’t want you here either, but I don’t trust you after what you did to me and-”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You sent me to Hell.”

“You went there on your own!”

“How do I know you’re conspiring with Mark or not?”

“Who the fuck is Mark? You’re so worked up over a dude named Mark?”

Haechan closed his mouth and after a moment his whole body started to shake. You realized he was laughing.

“I’ve never realized how simple his name was. Doesn’t sound like a villain at all.”

“Well, because maybe he’s the good one and you’re the villain.”

Haechan’s smile disappeared and with it all the warmth in the room.

When he walked in he looked like a normal young man, a boy even. His hair was back to his soft brown curls and his hands weren’t burned up to the elbows anymore.

For a second you forgot what he was capable of or what he did the previous night.

Now he was showing you a little piece of that and you felt your spine shake.

“You’re right. Maybe I am. That’s what everyone says anyway.” Haechan turned around and left the room without adding anything else.

You stared at the breakfast tray feeling a weird sensation of guilt.

The bedroom door was unlocked, you discovered, after taking a shower and debating whether you should trust the food Haechan brought you. But your growling stomach didn’t care so you had to trust that he still needed you alive, and if he had to kill you, he’d do it more interestingly.

You walked towards the corridor slowly, following the string of groans coming from what seemed like some sort of living room. It was almost identical to the room in the shop, and you realized you were probably on the second floor of the same building.

The groans kept going and when you peeked from the corner you were met with Jeno’s bloodshot eyes.

“I will kill you.”

You jumped in place.

“Now now, let’s calm down. It’s not her fault,” Jaemin talked with his kindergarten teacher’s voice and you noticed he was medicating wounds that made Jeno groan like that.

Then you noticed that Jeno was shirtless.

“What happened?”

“I went to see your grandma to make sure she’s not worried about you.”

You were surprised they’d do that.

“But the little grandma was a fucking wolf in disguise,” he added.

Jaemin chuckled. “Literally.”

You walked around to see wolf bites on Jeno’s back. “Oh my god.”

“Yep, a hellhound,” Jaemin explained.

“My grandma is a hellhound?” you felt your head pulsate.

“Of course, she’s not your grandma. You have no grandma because you’re not from this Universe,” Haechan appeared on the stairs.

He was addressing you but he didn’t look at your face once. “It was one of Mark’s henchmen tasked to make you believe you’ve been living a normal life here since birth.”

Haechan walked around Jeno as well and winced. “Why are they not healing?”

“Well, he’s a fucking dog from fucking underground and I’m an angel. My powers are limited.”

“You’re a Demon now. Stop using that word,” Haechan sat on the couch and exhaled as if exhausted. You wondered what he has been up to.

You felt just as exhausted, as if you started to watch a tv show in the middle of the season and you lost very important information. “What the hell are you all talking about? At this point, I think I’m due an explanation.”

Jaemin finished taking care of Jeno’s wide shoulders by the time Haechan finished his tale. You were sitting on the couch, the cup of coffee you were offered still intact and cold on the small table in front of you. Your muscles were stiff and your body paralyzed. This time, it wasn’t because of any of the dark powers those individuals possessed, it was just horror keeping you in place.

Haechan started from the beginning, recounting the time when he was an Angel (no, not the way you imagine, he scolded you when you asked about wings and halos), then he mentioned his departure from the City (that’s a story for another time, he cut it short when you asked what exactly happened), then he casually mentioned how he lived in this Hell Prison for millennials (time doesn’t exist, he rolled his eyes at the way you eyed him like he was some prehistoric grandpa), and finally, he recounted the way this dude, Kim Doyoung, came to his rescue and they signed a contract (contract with the Devil, you commented, and Haechan ignored you) to make him fall in love with his woman, Selene, in all lives possible.

“Well, and what does that have to do with me?” you asked.

“We met in another Universe while I was doing my little task and you’re from there.”

“How is that possible? I have no memory of it.”

“That’s what we’re trying to understand as well,” Jeno got up from his chair and grabbed a silky button-down, groaning a little when he lifted one arm to wear it.

“Do you have any proof of this?” you lifted your chin, surprised you still had a voice to ask questions.

Haechan’s eyes analyzed your features and your courage went missing.

“Your scarf,” he simply said.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked towards the entrance where your coat and scarf were neatly hanging.

Then you understood.

“HC,” you exhaled and got on your feet to go and grab it. The letters were there on the edge of the red and gold woven material. “This is yours?”

Haechan didn’t confirm nor denied.

“Why do I have it?” you looked at him then at the others. Jaemin and Jeno avoided your gaze. “Were we close friends?”

Jeno cleared his throat and mumbled something about work, heading towards the entrance. Jaemin scratched his forehead and just backed away into the kitchen.

“Haechan?” you hesitated. For some reason, you felt like you had to use “sir” or “mister” when addressing him although you looked roughly the same age.

The young man bit his lower lip then finally let his gaze fall on the scarf and then your face. “We were acquaintances. Same University. We talked before, that’s it.”

Your voice was a whisper but Haechan’s demonic ears were very sensitive. “Then why am I your weakness?”

He got up and passed his hands on the dark jeans.

“Never said you were,” he tried to walk past you but you took a step to the side and blocked him. Your hands, holding the scarf, almost touched his arm and he winced, putting distance between you two.

“Sorry,” you realized.

The fact your touch was deadly to him was making you feel upset.

His story had many holes and you still had too many questions.

Maybe the reading was right. Maybe you did have a task, some research to do.

But was Haechan the lover holding the cup with you, or was he the enemy, the lion, in that story?

“Is this Mark person my lover then?”

Haechan’s eyes became black. He seemed irritated. “How would I know that?”

“Well, I clearly have no memories so you’re my only source of information.”

“Since you’re here to kill me and I can smell his magic all over you, then yes, I guess you two fuck. And maybe you’ve been fucking the whole time and I had no idea,” he replied in a low voice before heading down the stairs. “If you have any more questions don’t ask them.”

“Then what about you?” you raised your voice so he could hear you from downstairs. “Are you my lover?”

Haechan stopped and you watched his back.

“Whatever happened in that Universe doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” he answered then disappeared from your sight.

The place was quiet, safe for a low metallic noise coming from the kitchen. You walked towards the noise expecting someone cooking but instead you were met with Jeno’s dark eyes, shining only when the reflection of the knife he was sharpening would hit his irises. They shifted towards you to give you a single glance. He looked like a butcher.

“Are your wounds better?” you tried to be friendly with that grumpy man.

Jeno sighed. “Yes, thank you.”

You adjusted your posture. He was being an okay person?

You remained both quiet for a few moments, safe from the knife sound.

“If you need to say something, just say it,” he lifted one perfect eyebrow.

In the mess of it all, you’ve never realized how good looking everyone was.

Truly angels.

Or demons.

You inhaled and shifted the weight from one foot to the other.

“Has there been something between me and-” you hesitated, “Haechan?”

The man listened and remained quiet for a moment. He got a sense of deja-vu.

“Oh, we– don’t talk much.”

Jeno looked at you from the corner of his eyes. “Why is that?”

You shrugged. Then you shivered. Apparently, having nude shoulders wasn’t only offensive for the Headmistress but also inconvenient for the autumn cold.

“He stopped talking to me all of sudden.”

“Maybe it’s for the better.”

You looked at Jeno’s chiselled jaw. “Why do you say that?”

“Haechan,” he started, “is not a great man. You should avoid him.”

“Because he’s a Demon?” you mumbled.

“I don’t know,” Jeno simply said. “It’s not important.”

“It is important to me. I have no memories. If you want me to stay here, you need to trust me.”

“Thing is-” Jeno threw the knife across the room. Its blade hit the poster and hung on the other wall exactly in the middle. The man walked towards it and grabbed it, feeling it with his thumb as if not completely satisfied. “-we don’t,” he finished.

“It is not my fault I have a deadly touch.”

“Maybe you’re a spy,” he commented, lifting one leg and putting the foot on the table. His combat boots were huge and the knife slid perfectly inside.

“I am not a spy! I don’t have any memories.”

“If you want to prove yourself, be quiet, and stay away from Haechan. That’s it.”

You hated him.

You hated everyone.

Maybe that Mark dude was right. Maybe he was the hero and everyone here was the enemy.

Maybe you were conspiring against them.

Maybe Mark was your lover.

Maybe you were the spy.

Maybe maybe maybe.

Deep in thought, you didn’t notice Haechan behind your back checking whether Jeno was ready.

“We’re going in five,” his low but melodic voice announced, and you jumped in place.

He was dressed for some kind of hunt too, you noticed - or assassination.

Haechan wasn’t carrying any swords or knives but the shadows curling around his legs told you he didn’t need any physical weapon to kill someone.

“Where are you going?”

“To catch a little bird,” Haechan replied, his back muscles flexing as he warmed up his wrists. Jeno was jacked, but you’ve never noticed how to fit Haechan was as well.

“I’m coming with you,” you crossed your arms on your chest, faking confidence. If they were going to meet Mark, you needed to be there as well. Maybe seeing him would make you gain your memories back or make you understand something about that crazy situation.

If what they were saying was true, you weren’t of that universe, you didn’t have a home or a sweet grandma.

You had nothing to lose.

“No, you’re not.”

“I have magical powers,” you reminded them, the thing still surreal to you. You had no clear idea of how to use them.

Haechan chuckled.

“Mark would probably want to see me,” you tried again.

Haechan’s jaw clenched. His eyes were as sharp as Jeno’s knives when he looked at you, like two dark cuts in that perfectly spectral face.

“This could be a trap,” Jeno’s voice was grave.

“What kind of trap can this be if I don’t even know where you’re going?” you scoffed.

“She has a point,” Haechan shrugged.

You hated how they always talked about you as if you weren’t there.

“Listen, you’re a Demon,” you suddenly said to him. It sounded like an accusation although you didn’t mean it to be. “The Demon. Lucifer Demon.” you added.

“What’s your point? Don’t waste our time.”

“Are you really not capable of– I don’t know, entering my mind and seeing if I am actually conspiring with this Mark dude or not?”

“You’d have a mental block anyway. Mark came in contact with you and sent you here. That is for sure, even if you don’t remember it. The reason why you’d accept to do that-” he interrupted himself, “that’s what we don’t know. And that’s why we don’t trust you.”

“What if I was just trying to find you?” you tried.

Haechan’s eyes shone but he shook his head. “Impossible.”

“Why? If I understood everything correctly, you guys suddenly left my home Universe. Maybe I wanted to find you again.”

Haechan’s mind went back to the last words you told him.

“It’s all your fault. If you knew all of this from the start, you should have just let me go.”

“I don’t think you’d do that,” he simply said and turned around.

You felt powerless.

“Haechan, please. Let me come with you,” you whispered.

The Demon stopped in his tracks and exhaled as if annoyed. Then with a snap of his fingers, you got covered in firm black combat clothes. They were so heavy that you almost fell backwards.

“Just keep up with us if you don’t want to be left behind,” he mumbled, descending the stairs.

Jeno grunted and followed him.

“So, she is a weakness after all, deadly touch or not,” you could hear Jeno comment.

“Shut up.”

Holding Jeno’s hand to travel the space-time wasn’t as unpleasant as you initially thought. No falling and no head spinning. Just close your eyes and open them to a different place.

The unpleasant thing was his reaction though.

Jeno let go of your hand as soon as he could. You could almost see the way he had to force himself to not clean it on his pants.

You wondered if given other circumstances Haechan would have been the one holding it for you.

Your eyes darted to his fingers wrapped in something that reminded you of a sword but it was made of pure shadow instead. Then your pupils focused on the surroundings. It looked like an abandoned warehouse, nothing majestic and Archangel-like.

What if they couldn’t find Mark there?

“But you did find me,” a melodious voice whispered behind you. You screamed and turned around. Haechan tried to move between you two, but Mark was quicker.

One palm cupped your face and the other one slid on your waist. His lips felt warm and soft on yours, slightly ajar to make them fit almost perfectly together.

“Hello, my love. Thank you for bringing them to me,” he smiled.

You didn’t have time to process anything.

Mark - or whomever the person in front of you was - disappeared from your sight, harshly knocked down by Haechan’s thighs, tightly pressing on his throat.

“If you fucking dare to touch her again I will kill you.”

The view was impressionable, and you realized you were shaking.

On the surface they were just two young men, one on his back and Haechan knee on his throat, eyes hidden by the black straight hair you understood by now was his real appearance, and the tattoo on his neck finally fully visible - Donghyuck.

But it was their energy that you could feel, like two black holes about to meet and merge in the most explosive event in history.

“Unleashing your full powers on me, Haechannie? I haven’t seen you like that in so long.” Mark’s clear and calm voice echoed in the warehouse.

Jeno took a step, and you felt his hand lightly push you behind him.

He looked tense.

“And who do we have here? Commander Jeno Lee went to the dark side?”

Mark’s carbon eyes moved from Haechan to the other man. Jeno’s expression didn’t change but you saw the way his forearm’s veins looked more prominent.

Haechan groaned, pushing his knee further into Mark’s throat. “Enough talking. You sent her to kill me, yes or no?”

Mark didn’t look bothered although a choking sound came from his mouth, as if he was letting Haechan do that.

In fact, he grinned, with perfect white teeth, and appeared in a different spot of the warehouse, at a good distance.

Jeno’s arm snaked around you as if he was afraid Mark would take you with him and Haechan just slowly got up on his feet, as if he also let Mark do that.

“Y/N, darling, did I send you to kill Haechan?” Mark looked at you and you eyed his lips, moving slowly around the letters of your name, the same lips that kissed you just moments ago.

Haechan’s gaze was heavy, staring at every glance you and Mark exchanged as if he could read into that.

“I didn’t. You chose to come here and kill him yourself, right?” Mark answered for you.

And what you saw next made you gulp and want to lean on someone, but Jeno took a step away, as if he saw that fragment of memory too and didn’t want to be close to you anymore.

“A tarot shop?”

Mark nodded.

“And he’s there.”

He nodded again.

“How do I reach him?”

Mark extended one hand on the table. You looked at his fingers. The palm was facing up and he had one faint scar in the middle of it.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

“Enough,” Haechan’s voice was loud and deep.

You looked at him and his eyes were bloodshot with hidden rage.

“Unfortunately, I can’t get your memories back because you were the one erasing them but I can show you mine,” Mark spoke to you. “If you don’t remember me at least I hope you can sense what we,” he stopped as if a bit embarrassed, “shared together in the past, my love.”

You felt your throat close. Mark was standing there, chiselled face and perfect posture, his wide eyes looking angelic and the light shining from his essence as he extended his hand towards you calling to you.

Then you looked at Haechan, shadows slowly creeping around his feet and his eyes, sending shivers down your spine.

“You tricked us the whole time,” Jeno growled but Haechan stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Stop it. Don’t humiliate yourself.”

“You pretended all of that time. You make me sick,” Jeno didn’t stop.

His rage was burning so you took a step back. You had no idea what to think.

Mark appeared near you, but you didn’t know if you should feel any safer.

If what Mark was saying was true, he was your lover and for some reason you forgot, you decided to find Haechan and kill him, thus explaining your killing touch. A

nd from Jeno and Haechan’s reaction you must have become their friend while working in incognito and now they felt betrayed.

It all made sense. It all clicked together.

But for some reason you felt sick.

“Mark,” you whispered, slowly turning towards the Archangel. The tattoo of a pair of wings was shining on his arms in the same ink as the name on his neck.

“Yes?” he grabbed your hands with both of his and you let him do that, staring at the perfect nails for a moment.

“If you’re a good angel, why do you collaborate with hellhounds?” you simply asked, your fingers grabbing his palms tightly and making him wince in pain.

“Now!” you yelled.

Haechan appeared behind his back and grabbing his throat they disappeared together from your sight.

Your knees felt wobble and you sunk on them. Whatever magic trick you’ve done to Mark it took all energy from your body.

“Where are they?” you wondered. “You need to follow.”

Jeno took a few steps forward, eyes staring away as if ready to see them appear back anytime soon. “Haechan would kill me if I leave you alone and vulnerable. He can handle it alone.”

A cold sensation wrapped you. “They’re going to kill each other.”

“That’s the goal, yes.”

“Why? Why do they hate each other that much?”

“That’s a tale Haechan has to tell. I’m not sure of the reasoning myself,” he replied then turned to face you, eyeing you sitting down on the freezing and dusty warehouse floor. “Why did you help us?”

“I didn’t help you.”

“You didn’t go with Mark.”

“I don’t trust him. And no, I don’t trust you two either. I don’t trust anyone. I will not trust any of you. I helped myself.”

Jeno’s inquisitory gaze danced on you and his jaw flinched as if thinking whether that was another trick of yours or not.

“I got involved in something that has nothing to do with me,” you continued, a burning rage finally warming your body. “And that dude Mark is lying.”

“How do you know?”

You gulped, staring at your shaking hands, resting on your knees. “I don’t know. I can feel it.”

“You’re a Slytherin,” Haechan’s rough voice made you jump in place. “You people can sense lies.”

He appeared a few steps away from where he disappeared.

“Are you okay?” you couldn’t help but ask, swiftly getting on your feet.

Haechan walked the distance and grabbed Jeno’s hand. The latter’s eyes unfocused as if he was downloading information then he nodded and disappeared.

“Don’t ask me questions as if you care,” his breath was heavy, and he unclasped the hard outwear to reveal the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath.

He lifted it.

Silver shadows were tangled around his torso, on his skin, and he groaned as if they were painful.

You didn’t notice when Jaemin came around, his hands on your back making you yelp.

“Take her home. I can’t touch her,” was the last thing Haechan said before you saw the darkness.

When you opened your eyes you were on the couch of that same apartment, familiar voices discussing in the background.

For a moment you wondered if everything you’ve been through has been a dream and if those voices were your family you couldn’t exactly remember because of the hazy of the dream.

But when you opened your eyes, reality crashed back on you.

“...lost him after that. Sent a few of them to Hell,” Jeno was narrating, sitting tall on a chair with crossed arms on his chest.

Haechan was mirroring him, sitting backwards on another chair, a tired Jaemin working on something on the Demon’s back.

The silver strips.

“Thank you, man,” Haechan murmured and Jaemin winked at him.

“What were they?” you asked, sitting up and feeling your head heavy.

Jaemin grabbed the strips he presumably took from Haechan’s body and sighed. “Angelic snakes or some weird stuff like that.”

You grimaced as Jaemin went outside to probably get rid of them.

“Why that face? You’re a Slytherin. Snakes are your thing,” Jeno commented.

You understood by now that everything they said made no sense to you.

“Where is Mark?” you asked instead.

The two men exchanged a look. “He escaped,” Haechan was the one to reply.

You took in the information.

“I guess you’re delighted I didn’t kill your lover,” he added.

“He is not my lover,” you replied back, still unsure of the dynamics. Haechan’s gaze was grave, and you felt unable to look away. Jeno sensed you two would get into a serious talk and wisely decided to walk outside the room in silence. The air felt thick and heavy afterwards.

“Can you just-,” you started, “can you do what Mark did? Show me some of your memories?”

Haechan looked away and grabbed his t-shirt, wearing it quickly. “What memories?” he asked.

“Of us.”

“None of them are exciting,” he replied as if wanting to end the conversation there.

You stood on your feet and walked the distance towards the chair Jeno abandoned.

“You said we were acquaintances. Mere colleagues in University. Yet you reacted like my betrayal, or whatever the hell I supposedly did to you, could almost kill you.” Haechan scoffed. “I didn’t react that dramatically.”

You didn’t say anything else, your gaze connected with his in a silent order as you sat down in front of him.

The young man sighed and you didn’t see him anymore.

You saw yourself in a uniform, a loose green tie around your neck. You were in Haechan’s body, staring at his memories from his point of view. Haechan jolted at the sudden foot hitting his ankle.

“If you don’t stop being so fucking creepy to women I’ll make you stop with my own hands,” you said.

Then the scene changed. Haechan swiftly put one hand on your nape and the other on your mouth in a mortal clasp. "That’s not something the whole campus needs to know, now, what do you think?" His whisper was so close that you smelled the sweet chewing gum on his tongue.

Then another day, you were writing in his hand because he took away your voice. “Oh my God, stop or people are going to think you’re into me,” he giggled teasingly. You let his hand suddenly fall and looked around scandalized. You could see the way you were flustered.

Then another. You were leaning on a wall, with Haechan in front of you. “Are you nervous?” he asked genuinely, gaze dropping to your chest as if he could actually see your heart through your flesh. You inhaled scandalized and covered your breasts with your arms.

Then other scenes, going quickly.

A peck in a corridor, then a full-blown kiss.

The feeling of his lips.

His hands on you.

His deep voice.

“So are you into demons? That’s why you’re into me?”

His thumb circling your back.

You sitting in his lap. His body pressed against you. A room filled with water, both wet, making out, his mouth on your bare breasts, your moans, his fingers inside of you, you palm swiftly around his-

“Okay enough!” you got on your feet.

You were panting and you could feel your body on fire. You brought a hand to your throat as if it could help you swallow the sudden lump.

You walked away from him, taking a few steps, but then you stopped, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“It’s okay. Don’t panic,” Haechan’s low voice was surprisingly sweet.

You eyed him for a moment. He didn’t look bothered like you, safe for the shining eyes and the nervous fingers pulling at a single thread of his shirt.

“How do I know this is the truth?” your voice was a whisper.

When you asked him to show you his memories you somehow didn’t expect you two to have been that… intimate.

“You said you know when people lie. What do you think? You think I’m lying?”

Your rational side was screaming at you to say yes, to run away from Haechan and his shadows, but your gut was pushing you towards him instead.

You didn’t know whom to trust.

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know if you’re lying either,” he replied. “I don’t trust you. And now you know why your betrayal,” he paused as if unsure of what words to use, “was so surprising.”

“I don’t trust myself either,” you sat on the couch, away from him. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m a spy or not. I don’t know if I originally decided to kill you or not. I don’t know if I’ve always lied to you even when we-” you interrupted yourself and gulped, the flashes of his mouth on you making you dizzy. “So you’re doing well. Don’t trust me. Because I don’t know anything.”

The silence felt heavy and you could see the same inner fight inside of Haechan as well.

“Why did you stay with us?” Haechan looked young and vulnerable in his chair.

He looked the most human you’ve ever seen him.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You could have gone with him.”

“I don’t even know him.”

“Do you know me?”

You bit your lip. “Somehow I think I do.”

Haechan’s eyes felt almost warm and the setting sun made his skin lit up like honey.

How could Demons look like that?

You had no idea how you were looking at him but he suddenly sat up and turned around, one hand in his fluffy - and now back to brown - curls. “Ah, you’re fucking with my brain,” he mumbled.

You closed your eyes and sighed. “I am not.”

Haechan chuckled dryly. “For being a hag of a dark entity you’d think I would be more capable of not being manipulated. The human world always messes up with me,” he added the last phrase quietly, almost to himself only.

“I am not manipulating you. Since I’ve met you, in this world,” you precised, “I’ve done nothing but be truthful with you. I have no memories so of course I have no idea of my previous intentions and I don’t know if I am here now to look for you because I love you and you abandoned me or to kill you. Maybe both.”

Haechan’s eyes lit up at your words and he looked at you over his shoulder first.

Then he walked the distance so quickly that you inhaled and took small steps behind until hitting the couch with your calves.

“I will be delusional for a moment and believe Mark looked for you after I,” he gulped, “left, and you were angry at me enough to start working with him and come and kill me.” His voice was an intimidating whisper and you couldn’t help but feel the tension in all of your muscles. He has never been this close.

You could feel his warm breath on your face and the scent of his cologne. Your thigh muscles started to shake and you didn’t know if it was because of the effort of staying away from him, fear, anger, or-

“Would that make sense?” he continued. If he noticed your reaction his face didn’t communicate it.

“Why not?”

“Would your love turn into hate this quickly? Or maybe there wasn’t any love there in the first place and all of this time you’ve just been fucking that son of a bitch while playing me. Which one makes more sense?”

“You want me to hate you so badly,” you lifted your chin. Your thigh muscle stopped shaking and you leaned in.

Haechan flinched but he didn’t move away.

“You want me to look you in the eyes and scream that I hate you and I want you dead because it would make things for you easier, right? Why aren’t you honest with yourself?”

Haechan inhaled then scoffed. “You want honesty? What do you want me to say? That I’m happy to see you? That I hoped you actually came to find me? That it kills me to not be able to touch you because I might go to hell while that jerk can kiss you? That I might go insane anytime soon and actually touch you even if that means I’d go to the damned hell and take this whole shitty world with me? Fuck,” he turned around and you could only stare at his back getting farther away as he walked towards his chair, his shoulder blades moving up and down following his heavy breath.

You put a hand to your chest, feeling your own breath just as quickly.

“You already know about my touch. What else would have I prepared for your downfall? Nothing. I have nothing on you. You can trust me now.”

“You destabilize me. I am on a mission. I have a task and you’re here and all I think about is you. This is what you have on me.”

“This is also why you left, right? Your grand mission. Much more important than anything else. Much more important than me.”

Haechan didn’t say anything.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone.”

“You can’t go anywhere,” he turned around.

“I’m not welcome here.”

“He’ll get to you.”

“Let him come.”

“Y/N.”

“Haechan.”

His name took you both by surprise.

“What do you want me to do then? Lock myself in a room forever so I don’t bother you and your task? I can’t be here, I can’t go away. What do you want me to do?”

“Just stay here. I’m not a piss boy. I can handle your presence,” he finally murmured. “And you can come in now,” he said louder.

Jeno and Jaemin awkwardly entered the living room.

“Thank God, I was starving and the fridge is on the other side of this fucking house.”

You didn’t sleep much at night.

The conversation you had with Haechan kept replying in your head.

His words, his feelings, his eyes, the scenes he played out for you.

You felt exhausted.

So much happened in the past couple of days that you felt like a brand new person.

You learned a lot but you didn’t gain any memories. They were tales told to you but you couldn’t find them in your brain or heart.

Was Haechan truly the one he said he was? Was Mark setting you up? Why did he pretend he was your lover then? Why did he kiss you? So many questions and infinite possibilities.

What if Haechan was right? What if you’ve always been on Mark’s side and you tricked him? But what if you actually fell in love? Or what if you were just looking for him? What if Mark was tricking you all?

You huffed and rolled on one side. Why didn’t Haechan bring you with him? Why did he leave you? You exhaled. You rolled on the other side.

“Stop huffing and moving. I can’t fall asleep.”

You opened your eyes in shock.

“What?” you thought.

“I said-”

You sat up. “Why are you in my brain?”

Haechan’s roll of eyes could be almost heard through the walls. “We’ve done this before. It’s called talking telepathically.”

“How is this possible?”

“I’m a Demon.”

“And me?”

“I don’t know. Technically you shouldn’t be able to reply back. Mark must have given you some sick powers while you two were fucking.”

You let yourself fall down on the pillows and crossed your arms on your chest.

“Again with this story. We’re not fucking.”

“You wouldn’t know that.”

“I’m not a cheater,” you were growing irritated.

“We have never dated. I wouldn’t blame you for it.”

“The thought pisses me off.”

Haechan didn’t reply but you could sense he was amused and pleased. You didn’t like that he infiltrated your head but a heaviness in your chest disappeared after seeing him in a good mood.

“How did you get into my head?” you asked again.

“You don’t have any blocks. Thought you did.”

“Does it mean you can look and see if I am lying or not?”

“I’d need to touch you for that.”

Right.

“Can Jeno do it?”

“No.”

“I thought he was also a Demon with your same powers.”

“He’s capable of doing it. But I will not allow it.”

“Why not?”

Haechan hesitated. “It’s very invasive.”

“Is it dangerous for me?”

“I’m not letting Jeno Lee see the depths of you.”

Oh.

“Alright,” you thought. “I will try to fall asleep so your demonic ass and your superhuman hearing can also rest.”

You expected Haechan to chuckle or at least reply with a grunt but whatever mind connection there was it disappeared.

You sighed and turned around again, fluffing the pillow with one hand. But the moment you closed your eyes you heard his voice in your head, low and warm but clear.

“I am sorry for abandoning you.”

You opened your eyes.

Haechan continued. “I thought I was making the right choice. You said you didn’t want to do anything with me anymore. I thought we were over.”

You didn’t know what to reply to.

“If I don’t complete this fucking important mission as you call it, I will vanish.”

“Why can’t both things coexist?” you asked.

“You’re human,” he simply said. “I thought you’d live a good life without me. I erased your memories. I don’t understand-” he interrupted himself and you didn’t know why. You felt a sudden lump in your throat and you didn’t know if it were you or you were just sensing his emotions. “-I don’t understand how you got here. This is why I don’t believe you came to look for me. Because you couldn’t have remembered me in the first place.”

You felt tears prickle your eyes.

“This is the moment to tell me the truth, please, Y/N. Maybe you enjoy torturing me but it’s too late to keep playing. Just tell me the truth.”

“I swear-” you started, “I have no idea. I wish I could tell you.”

No thought came from Haechan for a moment then he said a single “Alright.”

“Haechan?”

“Yes.”

“In the warehouse,” you started. “Right before Mark appeared, I had a thought.”

Haechan waited.

“I thought what if we can’t find him there. And the first thing he said-”

“But you found me,” Haechan completed the thought for you. “I don’t know if he can read your mind or whatever Archangels ended up being able to master all of this time I’ve been away. But it could also mean you might have a connection with him.”

“What kind of connection?”

“The spell you have on yourself. Your deadly touch. He obviously put that on you. I don’t know if by force or if you accepted it willingly. But it might explain things.”

“Do you think he can- listen now?”

“Maybe.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“He can listen either way. And if you keep thinking about me maybe it will piss him off.”

You lifted one eyebrow, the flirty reply to your serious concern making you scoff.

Haechan didn’t say anything else but you could still sense his presence. It was weirdly comforting and it lulled you to sleep.

In the morning you discovered Jeno and Jaemin were on their missions to bring the famous Doyoung and Selene together. You didn’t even know them, but they were kind of pissing you off. The fact they needed a Demon to bring them together instead of actually working on it themselves was also ridiculous.

Haechan was downstairs, sitting down at his Tarot desk and staring into a glass globe.

“Are you actually spying on them? Like a stalker?”

The young man chuckled as you walked behind his back.

“That can’t be legal,” you added and sat down on the other chair in front of him.

Haechan lifted his eyes under his soft fringe and a mischievous twinkle sparkled in them.

“I am an evil Demon,” he reminded you.

You took a sip out of your coffee and sighed. “Well, I guess this is the least evil thing you’ve done off of your list of crimes.”

Haechan passed one hand on the ball and the images disappeared.

“Does that thing really work or is it your demonic power?”

“Just my demonic power,” he smiled.

“The tarots too?”

Haechan looked at the pile of cards with fondness. “Yeah. They’re just paper.”

“So did you choose the cards on purpose for me to pick?” you felt amused but betrayed.

“Actually,” he was still staring at the cards, “I didn’t.”

You looked at them too. “May I?” you asked and Haechan gave you a single nod.

The cards were luscious in your hands and felt expensive. You stared at the images on them.

“You said I had a task.”

Haechan’s eyes were on your fingers, unsuccessfully trying to shuffle them.

“I could feel that. Everything I said during the reading is true. You have a task and I wanted to see what it was about in your head, but-”

Your mind went back to his scream and the way he plopped on the floor as he touched your hand.

“Do you still think I am here to kill you and that I work with Mark?”

Haechan shrugged. “At this point I don’t know if I care.”

That stung your heart.

“What happens when you’re done with this Universe?”

“I move to another. And another. And another.”

You took a card from the pile and turned it towards you. Two of cups.

Haechan’s eyes fell on it too.

“And what about me? Are you going to take me with you so you’re not living in fear of me randomly attacking you or will you bring me back to my old Universe and erase my memories the way you did it once?”

The card had two people on it, both with a cup in their hands. Above them was a lion with angel wings. Below it was a caduceus - the medical symbol with two snakes.

“I still don’t know,” was Haechan’s answer.

“What does this card mean?” you lifted your gaze to realize Haechan was already looking at you, chin resting on his fingers. The sun was shining brightly, the last rays of the sun for that year, and his eyes looked like fudge. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was about to lean in and kiss you.

“Union,” he started. “Attraction. Love.”

You gulped and broke eye contact to stare at the card again.

“Longing for someone,” he continued. “Healing broken ties. Being drawn to someone.”

You felt difficulty breathing.

“Discovering a feeling is mutual,” he finished in a whisper.

You dared to look up again and regretted it. The sensation of him caressing you with his mind crept into your body.

“Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he replied.

“You’re doing something right now. My body feels-” you interrupted yourself feeling very ashamed.

Haechan smiled. “That’s called being turned on.”

“Well, stop turning me on with your demonic powers then.”

“That’s just human,” he explained.

You wanted to get up and run away but your knees felt weak. But if you stayed there you were afraid you would end up touching him. His hand was on the desk, mere centimetres away from you.

“I am dangerous for you. Please go away,” you almost mewled.

“Mark really has a hidden sense of humour,” Haechan exhaled, stretching his arms back and sliding his chair away from the table. It looked as if it took him a huge amount of effort to do that.

“He doesn’t want me dead. He wants to torture me,” he added, eyes staring at the ceiling.

“Can I ask what he is for you?” You felt better to have Haechan at a healthy distance and the air started to flow normally in your lungs.

“I don’t even know,” the Demon murmured. “We used to be friends. Then he betrayed me. In his perspective, I betrayed him, so I am not sure of the current dynamics.”

You remained quiet.

Haechan’s adam’s apple moved up and down in his throat and you realized you were staring at his silky skin when his gaze connected with yours instead.

“I don’t think I could ever have any desire to kill you,” you found yourself murmuring.

The young man’s lips stretched in a little smile. His dark and lazy expression felt like burning your face and at that point you had no idea if it was his demon powers or just human emotion as he said.

“I am glad,” he replied.

“I really wish you could trust me. I can help you.”

Haechan got up, the tarot cards still spread in front of him. He dragged his fingers on top of them when a card flipped out. It was the Knight of Swords.

“How?” he asked although his furrowed eyebrows gave him the air of already knowing the answer.

You got up as well. “I can spy for you.”

He shook his head before you could finish.

“Haechan-”

“No. I can’t bear the thought of you with him.”

You closed your mouth. His silver tattoo was slowly appearing on his neck and the way his hair darkened all of a sudden gave you the impression that he was losing control.

You really wished you could touch him.

“Aren’t you curious as to why I am here? How I got here? In another universe? Why I am still me and not my counterpart?”

“Yes, but you will not do anything about it. I’ll take care of it.”

“Haechan,” you took a few steps towards him. The man turned around.

“Stop saying my name like that,” he sounded pained.

His back was right in front of you, wide in his black t-shirt. You didn’t notice the tattoo he had on it, peeking a bit from under his collar to his nape. You wondered how the design looked like and why he concealed it before - what that meant for him.

“I can almost feel your gaze on me,” he whispered.

“What happened when I touched you? Was it painful? Was it really hell?”

Haechan didn’t reply for a few moments, and you bit your lower lips. Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked.

“You don’t have to know,” he turned around slowly. His scent engulfed you in the movement and you felt your throat close.

Maybe you looked at each other for too long. Or maybe you were imperceptibly getting too close, but he inhaled.

“We can’t,” he added with the same tone. You didn’t know what expression you had on to make him say that, but you knew what he was talking about.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know,” you repeated, rubbing your knuckles on one temple. But you couldn’t move away. “Fuck.”

You turned back your seat and exhaled.

Haechan was motionless in the same spot.

“What does the Knight of Swords mean?” you asked, eyeing the flipped card. You desperately needed to think about something else.

The young man turned around the chair and sat on it with his chin resting on his folded arms.

“Action,” he simply replied.

You smiled. “That’s it?”

Haechan’s expression relaxed. He hummed. “Do I look like an actual Tarot Reader to you?”

You chuckled. “To be honest, not at all. When I first arrived here I was expecting some old lady or something.”

Before you could add something else an older lady was sitting in Haechan’s place and you suppressed a little scream.

“Oh my God. Can you actually do that?” you put one hand to your mouth.

The lady chuckled slowly. “Cool, huh?”

“Okay okay, go back, please. This is creeping me out.”

Haechan’s features appeared back on the woman’s face, and he was there again. You looked at each other for a longer moment and you forced yourself too look away.

“Is there any fun reading I can get? I’m sick of future and predictions.”

Haechan hummed. “There is one.”

You stared at his ring then at his wristwatch, not wanting to risk looking him in the eyes again.

“What is it?”

“Would you be interested in knowing your sexual energy?”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff. “You’re going to make it all up on the spot, aren’t you?”

Haechan’s little smirk was daring. “Try it out and don’t blame me if it’s too accurate.”

You exhaled and stared down at the spread.

You grabbed a random card and turned it around.

“Chariot is self-restraint. Quiet alone time. Might indicate edging or masturbation.”

You gulped. “You can’t possibly know all that from a card, can you?”

Haechan chuckled and shrugged.

“Do you want another card?”

You inhaled and bit your lower lip. You wanted to prove him wrong. With a decisive movement you flipped another card and watched the way Haechan stared at it. It was the Devil. You lifted your chin.

“Now don’t tell me I’m into chains and stuff because it’s drawn on it.”

Haechan’s eyes shone under his eyelashes. “No. This is Temptation. You want something very badly although you know it’s bad for you. It’s about wants, desires, lust, carnality, senses, pleasure and all things erotic-”

“Alright!” you stopped him.

Haechan licked his lower lip as if enjoying himself way too much. “The object of desire can be some kind of forbidden love, or-” he stopped.

You waited.

“It’s the Devil card. Maybe you really desire, I don’t know, some kind of Demon,” he concluded and you huffed when you realized where he was going with that. You grabbed the card and threw it at him. He caught it with his perfect teeth and laughed.

“You’re playing with me right now.”

“I am being truthful. Pick another card.”

You inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm your nerves. The last card was the Queen of Wands. It looked innocuous and you wondered what story Haechan will make about it.

“Mmm,” he hummed pleased. He grabbed it and turned it towards you, keeping it in front of his face. “Making me blush,” he murmured.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What does it mean?”

“This is someone who is shy.”

“I am not shy,” you tried to argue although your knees were starting to shake.

“Then,” he thought about it for a moment, “modest. Takes a while to relax.”

You gulped. His eyes looked feline and his voice sounded lower and smoother.

“The virginity card,” he continued.

You opened your mouth to speak but you stopped. Haechan waited.

“I have-,” you started then stopped again. “I don’t know if-”

Your eyes searched for his as if he could have any information. Haechan’s cheeks bloomed with a very faint shade of red that you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t that close to him.

“Last time I personally checked you were still a virgin, if that’s what you wanted to know,” he gave you the answer. “It doesn’t matter though. This card talks about wanting something pure, not necessarily the literal meaning. The sensation of doing it for the first time. Being taken care of,” he added.

“Have we never-” you tried to speak again but couldn’t finish.

“Virginity is a construct, it doesn’t exist.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. “I know I know. Just- I just want to know what-”

“We never had penetrative sex, no,” he concluded.

You wanted to hide at the choice of words. He chuckled.

“Next card?” he offered.

“I don’t think I want to do this anymore,” you rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand to cool them down. But the little smile on his face and the intimate moment made you enjoy his company and you didn’t want it to end. So you flipped yet another one.

Nine of wands.

Your gazes met again after staring at the piece of paper.

His lips looked plump when they moved to speak. The sun setting made the room dark and the few candles just accentuated Haechan’s jaw and the shadows on his chiselled face.

“It means - keep going,” he murmured, “don’t stop, again, I can’t take this anymore, please.”

The air felt heavy and you desperately wanted to walk away and get a breath of fresh air, but for some reason your brain was telling you the only way to breathe properly was by kissing Haechan’s lips.

The sound that escaped his mouth was almost a plea, as you got up and placed both of your palms on the desk right in front of him. He lifted his face to see you. His eyes were begging and you didn’t know what for.

“Tell me to stop,” you whispered. “Tell me to stop and I will,” you leaned down and Haechan’s soft fringe moved gently under your shaky breath.

He gulped and the view of his desperate expression made you almost whine. “I don’t think I can take this anymore, please just-”

You couldn’t finish the phrase. Haechan’s lips on yours felt better than you could have ever imagined and his hands grabbing at each side of your face, pulling you towards him made you melt in his touch. For a moment or many, you couldn’t think. You weren’t brain anymore or conscience. You were just lips and skin, just lungs to breathe in his scent.

But then he wasn’t there anymore. The abrupt separation made you exhale and you opened your eyes.

But Haechan didn’t disappear. He was in front of you, eyes wide open and shining, surprised as you.

You were probably mirroring his expression. “Are you okay?” you tried to speak.

You lifted one hand to place it on his face as if not believing he was there, and he closed his eyes, letting his head rest better in it. “I am okay,” he whispered. Then he placed his own hand on top of yours, sliding his face to kiss your palm. Then he kissed it again. And again. Then he pulled you closer, getting up so fast you didn’t make sense of how he made you sit on the desk getting so close that the only thing you could do was wrap your arms around his neck and let him guide the kiss the way he wished. It was only when he started to adventure on your jaw instead, going around it to reach the soft spot under your ear that you managed to breathe out.

“What about-” your fingers dug into his shirt, gathering the material underneath them, “the curse? The touch?”

Haechan ignored you, peppering wet kisses all over your throat, making your breath quiver and your legs tighten around his hips.

Your hands moved from his hard shoulders to his hair, finally sliding your fingers into the thickness of it, feeling how soft it was. Every touch on your skin felt like burning and you didn’t know if it was good or bad but it felt so nice you didn’t want him to stop.

“Haechan,” you moaned when he slid his thumbs on top of your bust, pulling down your shirt for a moment and the bra with it. His hands went to your spine, supporting you and pushing his face against your breasts, making you throw your head back. The view made him grunt and he came back to the base of your throat, sucking on the tender skin until it stung, and wetting the spots with his tongue. That tongue then slid into your mouth again, both whining into each other’s mouths, too hungry for touch to let yourselves breathe properly.

“You look like you’re in pain. Are you sure you’re okay?” you managed to talk again as he rested his forehead on yours for a moment.

“I am in pain because I feel like I’m going to cum in my fucking pants any moment now,” his eyes twinkled and your thighs twitched under his fingertips, gently going up and down on top of your jeans. “I don’t know why I am still here and not getting tortured somewhere underground right now but I want to make the most of it if perhaps I need to go soon.”

The implication of that made your skin shiver. You didn’t know if you wanted to know what the most of it meant.

“Are you scared?” he murmured against your ear. “You can tell me to stop and I will,” he repeated the same thing you told him. But just like him, you remained quiet.

“Please take care of me,” you only whispered and Haechan’s eyes never got that dark, not even when he saw Mark.

He could have snapped his fingers and gotten rid of your clothes, but instead he took his time, slowly sliding his fingers underneath your soft sweater, feeling the warm skin of your stomach, fondling your body until getting it off completely, all while his tongue never stopped swirling with yours.

The circles he drew on your back going to unclasp your bra could have been some ancient language that only expressed love because you couldn’t have imagined that kind of touch to mean anything else.

And when the fabric of the clothes touched the ground and you were naked in his arms he finally let your lips go, breathing heavily against them, and slid his t-shirt off by the collar, piling the indument on top of yours. His chest against you made you whine and grab at his toned body.

He was hot at the touch and his scent made you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck to get more, while his quick but delicate hands reached the button of your jeans.

“Lift your hips for me, baby,” he murmured against the crown of your head and you did as he asked, supporting yourself on his shoulders.

He pulled at your bottoms, sliding them down your thighs, his gaze never leaving yours for a moment.

Your chest brushed against his nose and he reached down, peppering kisses all over your cleavage. You mewled when he let go to get rid of your jeans and you inhaled deeply, holding tight on the edge of the desk when he dropped on his knees to free your ankles off the fabric and started to gently kiss them. He came up your legs, accompanying his soft trails with his hands, feeling your body until reaching the softness of your thighs.

You imperceptibly tightened them and his eyes darted towards you. It was a silent command and you felt like covering your face with your hands as you opened wider for him.

“Good girl,” his breath was hot and the sound of his voice vibrated along your skin getting you goosebumps. Your body was flinching at every touch and the closer he got the faster your chest rose and fell, until you couldn’t take it anymore and just moaned his name, pushing your hips against his face. You heard him chuckle and he didn’t waste any time. The feeling of his tongue on your clothed clit made you gasp and you pushed his hair off his forehead.

“Can I mess up your hair?” you murmured.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” he replied, his husky voice travelling down your core and making your spine curve.

You got it now. Everything Haechan showed you from his memories was true. The heaviness of his feelings, the desire, the fear, the passion, it was all real.

You couldn’t imagine not being his lover. While you were there, spread for him and at his mercy, you couldn’t imagine not being on his side, not falling in love with him.

The little tug at your panties made you focus your thoughts back on him.

“Are you perhaps getting bored, gorgeous?” he clicked his tongue.

You felt like laughing and shaking your head.

“I’m just thinking-” you started but the way your panties were slowly descending down your thighs and knees while Haechan wasn’t touching them made you interrupt yourself.

“Yeah?” he kissed the inner thigh and you shivered, the thought of him seeing every centimetre of you from his position making you unable to focus anymore.

“I was thinking that I am sure of it,” you repeated.

Haechan’s soft and plump lips made their way further between your legs and you closed your eyes for a moment all breathy.

“Sure of what, darling?”

“That you’re my lover and I am definitely not here to kill you,” you explained with a certain difficulty.

Haechan stopped right above your sweet spot and you had to bite your lower lip, the anticipation making you lose your mind.

“A little kiss made you sure of it?” his eyes were dark but amused.

He looked breathtaking.

“You know it’s not just because of a little kiss.”

Haechan’s breath was hot and tingly on your sensitivity. “I know,” he replied and didn’t give you any time to adjust as he gave you a slow and deep lick on your clit making you gasp loudly.

He hummed pleased at the reaction and he repeated it, again and again until he was satisfied with the sounds you were making. Then he went lower, dipping his tongue inside of you, making you grab at his hair.

“Oh my God,” you whimpered and you heard the buzz of his laugh at your word choice.

Your thighs got closer as he increased the speed and you noticed the red tint of his ears pressed against your skin.

It made your chest bloom with affection and it just increased the shivers on your spine as he kitty licked and sucked on you, the hums against you sounding more and more hungry.

His hands felt wide on your ass as he pulled you even closer to his mouth and you had to support yourself on his shoulders.

“Please,” you started to chant at the way he flicked his tongue.

His jaw flinched and the moment he directed his gaze on you, two deep cuts under his messy hair, your whole body trembled in his arms.

He lifted his hands and you intertwined your fingers with his as with a last suck you came against his tongue. His name was on your lips like a mantra, laced with swears that to Haechan’s ears sounded like the most divine compliments. His warm mouth was still on you when your breath started to slow down and the little licks he’d give your pulsating pussy made your whole body jolt in spasms.

“Enough, please,” you mewled at the overstimulation and Haechan listened, peppering kisses on your stomach instead, going up to gently bite the underside of your breasts, sucking on the spot, before giving your hard nipples a cheeky lick.

You hummed, brain still mush from the high, but body already reacting to Haechan’s touch. He didn’t stop this time, letting you feel his wet and hot tongue, sucking on one bud then another, diligently.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and you let him slowly push you on the desk until your back was resting on top of the Tarot spread. With the corner of your eyes you saw the Devil card and you wondered if it was alright for you to get fucked on it.

As if reading your mind Haechan murmured against your neck. “As much as I’d love to take you on this same desk you need to be loved properly on my bed instead.”

His voice was so husky and deep that you felt yourself getting wet again and the way the stubble on his chin felt rubbing against your throat just stirred you even more.

“I am not against you taking me on this desk,” you slid your palms on his face and brought it to yours, kissing him slowly.

“That’s going to be for the next time, when I can bend you over it,” he replied against your lips and before you could realize it, your back hit a mattress instead and Haechan’s weight on top of you felt overwhelmingly good. His scent was all around you, his pillows, his room, the sheets you had to grab onto as you felt his delicate fingers dipping inside of you.

The wet sound felt even dirtier in the dim lights of his bedroom, the deep silence interrupted only by the slow pumping and his mouth on your chest.

His name came back on your lips and you found yourself spread even more for him to reach deeper inside of you. Like a switch, he found your sweetest spot and your body seized up, curling your toes in the air.

“There it is. I didn’t forget it,” his amused whisper lingered on your lips, mixed with his moaned name. He curled his fingers so deliciously, hitting the same spot repeatedly as fast as your quick breath.

“I am going to cum, I am going to-” your quickening voice announces and Haechan hummed deeply.

“Yeah? Cum for me again, baby, let go.”

“Fuck,” you dug your nails into his body and the last thing you saw was his veiny forearm stilling between your legs as you pushed your head into the pillows.

“Good good girl,” Haechan’s voice brought you back from the radio silence your brain threw you in. “You need to relax a bit so I can get my hand back,” he added with a light chuckle and you realized his fingers were still buried deep inside of you as you clenched around them.

You tried to catch your breath and focus your gaze on him. Not once in your life you’ve felt that inebriated.

And when you felt his wet fingers on your lips you just opened your mouth and sucked on them slowly with a hum, letting your tongue on the underside of them.

Haechan inhaled. “I know you’re so fucking dirty. I just want to discover it little by little,” he leaned against your ear, sliding his fingers off your mouth. You let them go with a plop and gulped as he dragged that wet hand on his lower stomach, putting a little show for you as he reached his cock and lazily stroked it. He groaned softly and the small fuck that escaped your mouth at the view made him lean back down, resting his wide hand near your pillow and making you watch the way he aligned himself to your needy pussy and softly pushed inside.

You pressed your face against his forearm at the sensation, grabbing at his bicep and he exhaled.

“God,” he murmured, “you’re perfect.”

You whined again, feeling stretched and full and he searched for your eyes after stopping moving. “Are you okay?”

He rubbed your face with one hand and kissed your cheek, then your temple. You let out a faint yes and wrapped his neck with your arms, pulling him into a deep kiss. You felt him growing inside of you a bit more and the thought of feeling him all made you clench.

“You can move,” you whispered against his lips and he gave you another small kiss before gently pushing his hips forward. The first thrust was smooth and it made you open your mouth to breathe better, the second made you curl your toes and the third, deeper, made you roll your eyes back.

“Demon or not you’re going to make me nut so fucking quickly,” Haechan’s voice was breathy.

“You can cum wherever you want to,” you entangled your fingers in his hair. The man rubbed his face in the crook of your neck.

“You can’t say stuff like that to me or I’ll break you,” he replied and as a demonstration his hips snapped and you gasped at the way he managed to bottom out.

“Does it hurt?” he murmured and you shook your head unable to speak. “Does it feel good?” he tried with a little smirk and you nodded, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips.

“Fuck, baby,” Haechan thrust once, then twice, until the wet sound got drowned by the skin-slapping sound of his hips against your ass.

Haechan’s bed started to creak and he pushed one hand on the headboard above your head, giving you a better view of his body moving inside of you.

“Shit shit shit,” you grabbed at the sheets, pulling and twirling. Haechan grabbed them and held them on each side of your head, intertwining his fingers with you to let you squeeze as hard as you wanted to. His mouth was so close to yours but you were both unable to kiss. You’ve never thought of how hot a whining man could sound and the thought of you being responsible for those sounds made your head even dizzier.

“I want you to cum inside of me, please,” you begged and Haechan moaned harshly against your neck.

“Ah shit I can’t-” he choked on his breath and rose to his knees, pulling out frantically and releasing on your stomach.

The view knocked the breath out of your lungs. His messy hair partially hiding his lustful eyes, his chest, his veiny hand still stroking his cock, his plump abused lips still letting small groans escape.

His cum was hot on your skin and you desperately wanted it inside of you.

“Give me a second if you don’t want my child,” he exhaled, a lingering amusement on his now relaxed expression.

“What are you trying to do?” you asked, the thought stirring something in you.

“Contraception,” he lifted one eyebrow.

“And if I want the child?” you smiled.

“Don’t mess with me,” he leaned down, giving you a quick peck. Whatever demonic magic he did was done already because he didn’t miss any more time. His cock felt heavy on your lower stomach, and when he started to rub it between your folds, his tip pushing against your clit, your arms flew back around his neck. The slick made him slide back in so easily that you could just gasp.

“Hmm, yeah, you’re taking me so well.”

The praise went to your fucked up head and you could just throw your head back and moan his name again.

The pace was so fast and his thrust so deep that you could feel him inside your gut. Haechan messily kissed your lips and face, murmuring low shhs and nothingness in your ears, laced with curses with his husky needy voice.

His body was hot, caging you underneath him and you felt so full and so safe, you felt loved and desired.

The emotion that bloomed in your chest imitated the feeling nesting in your stomach, about to burst.

You wanted to tell him many things but you couldn’t find any good words, so you just pulled him tightly and brushed your lips together, chanting his name.

“Cum for me again, baby,” he grunted and you spasmed in his arms as he pushed you into the mattress again and again until your shaky moans and eyes rolled back in your head making him still inside of you, feeling you rhythmically pulsating around him.

The sounds he made as he released inside of you were the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard in your life.

You jolted in your sleep, feeling around you and finding the bed empty but warm.

“I’m still here,” Haechan murmured, his shadow getting closer. The bed dipped as he laid down and you inhaled his scent as he slid under the covers to pull you to his chest.

“I thought-” you started but then stopped, the image of Haechan screaming on the ground after your touch still haunting you.

“I didn’t go anywhere. I am fine,” he added. His arms felt strong around your shoulders and his gentle hands slowly rubbing your head and back were lulling you back to sleep.

“Jeno said it’s possible that the curse lifted after we touched the first time. Single usage.”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest. You couldn’t clearly see his features but his eyes were shining in the dark.

“You’re saying that we could have touched all of this time and we just didn’t?”

Haechan’s soft chuckle warmed your face. “Mark humour I guess.”

You rested your head back on him, listening to his calming heartbeat.

“Are the guys back?”

Haechan hummed. “It’s Christmas. Selene will arrive soon. I expect Doyoung to come by in the night of the New Year.”

You nuzzled your head further into him and Haechan turned to the side, resting his face on top of your head. The little peck he left warmed you all up.

“I want to come with you wherever you go,” you whispered.

Haechan didn’t comment.

“Promise me,” you tried to lift your head to see his eyes again but a sudden light invaded your irises.

You wanted to scream and ask what was going on, but Haechan was on his feet already with you behind his back. You put your hands on his back to balance yourself.

“Oh fuck,” he exhaled and turned around. “Hold onto me tight! Never let go!” was the last thing you heard him say as the floor opened and swallowed you both.

#haechan #haechan smut #haechan angst #haechan fantasy #nct #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream sm #nct fanfiction #nct dream fanfiction #haechan fanfiction #I will not vanish #soulmates series #doyoung #mark #jeno #jaemin

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moonlezn · 5 months

Text

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.

#jaemin fluff #jaemin x reader #jaemin soulmate au #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fanfic #jaemin fic #jaemin angst #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct pt br #nct br au

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winwinboo · 7 months

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l.dh soulmate talk

“Do you think soulmates are real?” Haechan asks you suddenly, you’re both laying down on the floor of your college dorm, soft music plays from your speaker, it’s his playlist not yours.

“Yeah, I think so.” comes a reply “But not in that conventional fairy tale way”

“What do you mean?” your body is facing him now, his eyes watching you intently.

“I think that people are meant to meet at some point, but I don't believe that the universe somehow chose the person I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with.” you take a moment to think before continuing. “I believe that's on us, we feel so much love towards a person that we make it happen, the mindset, actions, and complimenting each other comes naturally because of the love we feel, we become soulmates through that love that was carefully built.”

It's silent after that, not awkward, it's never awkward with him. You go back to laying on your back, eyes closing for a little bit.

“So… you’re my soulmate then.” It's not a question, he’s stating it like it's the most certain thing on earth.

You inhale sharply, mind going blank and heart beating a tad bit faster at your best friend's words. “Yeah… I think we could be soulmates Hyuck.” You open your eyes softly and he’s still watching you, like he never stopped, like he never wants to stop.

little soulmate drabble i had on my phone, im a sucker for haechan

#kpop #nct fluff #haechan x reader #heachan x you #soulmates #nct imagines #nct dream #nct drabbles #nct 127 #kpop fic

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k-femdove · 1 year

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First Love: Prologue || H.RJ

pairing :: sub!renjun x afab!reader (+ a hint of chenle x reader but not really)

warnings :: first love au, sexual banter (it’s just chenle moaning as a joke), light profanity

word count :: 1k | not beta read

sypnosis :: In a world where your family can see who their first love is going to be, you are unable to love anyone until you end up with that person. Not a big deal, right? The only problem is that your first love is moving and you only have a week to make him fall in love.

or; my take on the soulmate au

playlist link here! or listen to ‘fall for you’ by sarah kang

prologue

First loves have always been essential to romantic classics. Some weren’t concerned- marrying your first love was rare. To others, there was nothing more special.

Not to sound corny, but you were different. With romance, you stand out from the crowd. It was something straight out of fanfiction.

You could tell when you met your first love. It was an indescribable feeling. A small heart would appear on your wrist and theirs, which they rarely noticed.

The ability came with a couple of drawbacks. There was no avoiding the relationship. Fate would bring the two of you together.

However, this never guaranteed a good relationship. If you were being honest, the so-called talent wasn’t very beneficial. In reality, not one person in your family stayed with their first love. That was another downfall to the ability; you weren’t supposed to stay together, which was different from having a soulmate. The moment fate changed, their heart would turn into a mole.

Most of your family had their experience when in their teens, the perfect age of experimentation. Then there’s you come in.

Here you were, 22 and loveless, but you didn’t worry about it. You lived an ordinary life.

After years without a lover, you began to believe that this whole “first love” thing wasn’t true. Besides, it’s not like your life was a cheesy romance drama. A gift like that seemed nothing short of preposterous.

Startled by a sudden loud noise, your thoughts had been disturbed. You turned and saw your friend, frozen in shock, standing above a pile of shattered glass.

“Jesus christ, Chenle.” You breathed out, looking around the cafe. “You’re lucky that there’s no one in here right now. I’m surprised that you’re not fired yet.”

Chenle rolled his eyes and went to grab a broom. “Whatever, y/n. You know you love me.” He said with a smirk.

You laughed at his antics. What he said was true. No matter how stupid Chenle acted, he was still your best friend.

After Chenle nearly slipped on the glass, he shot you a dirty look.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help?” He asked, beckoning you over.

While the two of you cleaned, it was only natural for a conversation to start up. It started slowly at first, but eventually, your family came up.

“Say, y/n, have you fallen in love yet?” He questioned teasingly. You narrowed your eyes, ready to respond, but he cut you off. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll know when you see them.”

You pushed him playfully, resulting in an exaggerated whine.

“What about you, lover boy?” You inquired with a sly smile. “What about your roommate? The one that’s moving out next week?”

“Oh, Renjun?” He responded, scrunching his nose.

“That’s the one. When do I get to meet him?”

Chenle was about to deny your requests, but paused in reconsideration.

“Actually,” he started, “He’s stopping by soon.”

Surprised, you looked at Chenle. “Oh, for real? Have fun with that.”

Annoyed, he sighed. “You can have him. He’s cute and all, but so not my type.”

“And what makes you think he’s mine?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a seat.

“Dude, I dunno-“

The bell rang as the cafe door opened, and a cold gust of wind blew into the cafe.

That’s when he walked in. The prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. It wasn’t love at first sight, but something close to that. The boy had soft brown hair and dark eyes that sparkled in the light. His bangs lay lightly against his forehead and down to his eyes. He wore a little fur hat and a small smile that pulled you in. His cheeks were pink from the cold weather.

The rest of the interaction went by quickly. You watched as the boy hugged Chenle before making his way over to you. As soon as you locked eyes with him, you felt a strange wave of warmth wash over you. Your fingers grew numb and your wrist began to burn.

“So you’re y/n? I’m Renjun, Chenle’s roommate.”

The rest of the meeting went by quickly. You exchanged a couple of words, and then he was gone. As soon as the door closed, you turned to Chenle, your eyes wide.

“That’s him.” You gasped.

“What?” Chenle asked, confused.

“He’s the one.” You said.

“Y/n, what are you talking about?” Chenle began, but then looked into your eyes and down at your wrist. “No fucking way.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight. There’s a heart permanently tattooed on your wrist because you saw some dude that just so happens to be my roommate that’s literally about to move away. Now you have to date him before he’s gone or else nothing in your love life will work out until years later when you run into him, but you’ll never actually end up with him so your heart is broken either way? And it’s gonna crush you so your love life will suck anyways because fate will make you fall in love with him even though you aren’t in love with him now? And it’s not supposed to be a big deal?”

You thought about it before saying, “well when you say it like that… I don't really know what to do.”

“Why don’t you just seduce him or something?” Chenle suggested, walking over to you. “Try pinning him against the couch.”

“That’s cheesy as hell.” You said, crossing your arms.

“So? Renjun’s never dated someone before. He probably loves that kind of shit.’’

You rolled your eyes and pinned Chenle down, his head hitting the cushion.

“Have you fallen for me yet?” You asked jokingly.

He laughed before putting on his best Renjun impression.

“Oh god y/n,” he moaned as you snickered, “you’re soooooo hot.”

You heard someone walk into the living room, and you and Chenle jerked your heads towards the intruder.

Renjun’s eyes widened, and already red ears grew even redder. He was already concerned when he heard the moan, and now his fears had been confirmed.

“I- uh- you guys can continue what you were doing.” Renjun stuttered before running back to wherever he came from. You head the front door slam shut.

You looked down at Chenle's just as shocked face before slowly getting off of him. He got up and the two of you sat in silence before Chenle finally broke the ice.

"...I don't think it worked."

a/n: hey! i’m back ig. I had this weird idea and i just had to write it. I may complete this series before my other ones, but im not abandoning the other works! my taglist for this fic is open so don’t be afraid to ask :).

#first love au #soulmate au #renjun #nct dream #nct #nct fluff #renjun x reader #sub!renjun #dom!reader #sub!idol #sub!kpop #sub!nct #renjun fanfic #nct fanfic #nct x reader #dove's works 📝

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chvrrycola · 1 year

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soulmates! au x johnny suh

you could handle the fact that your soulmate got tattoos, you had always planned on getting tattoos as well and would’ve done so already if you weren’t so broke. the thing that did annoy you though, was that whoever this person was, they clearly did not follow the hygiene advice each time they got a new one.

the sting on your skin at random times of the day as you watched little lines etch into your skin was kinda nice, definitely not painful, and reminded you that your soulmate was out there for you to find. the irritation and itching that bubbled across the area was far less pleasant, and your friends frequently asked you what was up when you had to put your weight on the wall, clutching at your arm. not only did it hurt, but it didn’t get you any closer to finding them.

or so you thought.

then, as you were strolling up the corridor, you saw a tall guy wearing a flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows chatting to one of the girls in your biochem lab. what caught your eye most, though, was the plastic wrap adorning his right forearm, redness blooming on the skin underneath.

you walked over to the girl, not a particular friend but close enough to warrant a conversation, and gave her a look that suggested you wanted an introduction. apparently the guy picked up on this before she did, and held out his hand to you, offering you a closer look at his new ink.

johnny (his name, apparently) noticed your interest, bending his arm to give you a clearer view.

‘i went swimming after i got it, which maybe wasn’t the best idea, but it isn’t as bad as it looks.’

you had no idea how to tell him that you knew exactly how it had felt the second it was submerged in the chlorinated water, so you just held out your own arm to trace it, hoping your loose sleeve would fall and your identical tattoo would do the talking for you.

#au: soulmates #group: nct #idol: johnny suh #year of aus #nct #nct 127 #nct johnny #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct drabbles #johnny suh #johnny suh drabbles #johnny suh imagines #johnny suh x reader

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kkakkungsoo · 5 months

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There might be something going on here *sus*

#nomin soulmates fr #nomin #jaemin #jeno #제노 #nct dream #nct #kpop #재민 #잼젠 #jaemjen

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intothegenshinworld · 1 year

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1k event post || 1k event masterlist

Original ask: HERE

Note: Thank you so much for requesting Kaeya! Don’t really know if it’s hurt/comfort cause there’s no real ‘happy’ ending but no ‘bad’ one either. I guess both reader and Kaeya never get that full feeling of closure here. But I hope you still enjoy this!!

A few months before your 17th birthday your neighbour Draff had found your unconscious body near the lake of Springvale.

Your body had been in bad shape when he found you.

You were covered with burn marks and there was a slash covering your right eye. Without wasting time Draff carefully brought your injured body to a healer, but unfortunately the damage had already been done.

You lost your sight in your right eye and the burn scars would remain as well.

Many people had been worried, not only for you, but your soulmate too.

When Draff found you there’d been no sign of fire or danger. The only reasonable explanation for you accident would be linked to your soulmate, the one you hadn’t met yet.

Whatever happened to you, it had happened to your soulmate first.

Were they an adventurer? Did someone attack them?

In all honesty, you’d be lying if you never blamed your soulmate for your scars. The burn marks weren’t big, if you dressed well they’d go unnoticed. But the scar across your right eye?

You tried to hide it, but when you used an eyepatch it only attracted more questions from strangers. So you decided you were better off without one.

Springvale was a small place. Everyone knew your story and you’d only get stares from outsiders, people you wouldn’t speak to anyways.

And so,

after a few months of recovery,

you decided you could live with this.

The first Weinlesefest after your accident a knight similar to your own age approached you for help.

You take a moment to take in his appearance.

He was a tall young man with a lean build and a tanned complexion. He has navy-blue hair and it has a streak of lighter blue in it. There’s also a lock of hair longer than any others, falling over his shoulders and onto his chest.

As a knight, he wears the same armour as the others. He has a sword strapped to his waist, interestingly there’s a cryo vision hanging from the belt. What’s most noticeable about him is the black eyepatch covering his right eye.

Wait. Eyepatch?

Immediately you were drawn in, looking for more information. Could he be your soulmate?

But with his rolled up sleeves you got a good view of his arms.

No burn marks in sight.

Your hands move over to your own arms, ghosting over the area where your skin was scarred. And although he wasn’t your soulmate, he’d been the first person to treat you normally.

It’s a nice change of pace from the pitiful looks you received after your accident.

So, you helped him.

You drew the general layout of Springvale onto a piece of paper, and with his problem resolved – he thanked you before he left towards his destination with your map in his hands.

The following days his blob of navy blue hair stood out between the crowd.

You wanted to say you’d been surprised, but you somehow anticipated the knight showing up again.

But instead of asking for a map, he asked for help with navigating the boar areas near Springvale. As usual, the animals had sensed the harvest season and appeared to come closer and closer to civilisation.

As you circled the parts on his map (he finally got a good one) he introduced himself as Kaeya, a knight in training. He’d been tasked to help with the organisation of the festival, along with the general task of safety, including fighting off boars.

You teased him about his lack of knowledge of Mondstadt’s layout as a knight, but he shrugged it off.

“Aren’t you glad to be helping out a knight like me?”

You’d smile before rolling your eyes at him. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around, Kaeya? Knights are supposed to help civilians.”

You marked the areas with boars on his map and had suggested he’d take Draff, your neighbour and a popular hunter, with him.

Similar to last time, he’d thank you before scurrying off to his destination.

Only this time, right before he disappeared into the crowd, he’d yell out a promise. Next time he’d act like a proper knight and chat with you instead of asking for help.

You’d have a hard time hiding your smile for the rest of the day.

Before the Weinlesefest would end, you saw Kaeya again.

He had pushed through the crowds to say hi, and as promised, he chatted with you instead of asking for help and then running off again.

He asked you to join him for a drink.

“I don’t know… There are a lot of people here.”

The people in Springvale didn’t stare, but the masses from Mondstadt city coming to the Weinlesefest would.

“Oh? And here I assumed you were avoiding me for these past days. If you want we could always search a quiet place.”

“I’d like that.”

The whole evening you’d wait for Kaeya to ask you why you avoided the crowd.

He never did.

There’s a knock on your door. You don’t expect anyone but a nagging feeling in the back of your mind screams; Kaeya.

You abandon your previous task of folding your laundry and walk over to the door, and surely, the familiar blue haired Knight stood in front of you.

In the last few months it’d become a routine for Kaeya to show up at least once a week, but never like this.

His head hangs low, eyes evading yours. He doesn’t seem upset, but he doesn’t seem alright either.

When you ask him what’s wrong he seems to have trouble gathering the right words. He opens his mouth only to close it right after.

Without further questions you’d open the door wider, inviting him in.

That day would be the first time when Kaeya opened up to you. Perhaps because of your silent understanding for whatever he was going through.

You’d later find out that he’d been one of the Ragnvindr sons, and although he’d been adopted, you couldn’t imagine the pain he felt.

You had heard the news of Crepus Ragnvindr dying. It had been around the time where you got into your own accident, so you’d been in recovery when you first heard it.

Kaeya had told you he became the Cavalry Captain earlier that day. It should’ve been something to be proud of, he knows, but apparently his brother had been the Cavalry Captain before him.

When you’d ask about Diluc Ragnvindr, Kaeya would fall silent once again.

At first, it seemed that Kaeya took some distance from you after opening up.

You wondered if you’d pushed too much, maybe your question about his brother had been insensitive.

But alas, after a few weeks he knocked on your door once more.

In his hands had been a wine bottle, in his other he’d have chocolates.

“I thought we’d spend Valentine together.”

“Valentine?” You laugh shortly. “Are you okay with that? – Most people tend to save these days for their soulmate, whether they found them or not. You definitely seem like one of those people.”

He’d hesitate for a moment,

“You don’t have a soulmate?”

You’d joke about your soulmate ruining your life and for the first time you’d show Kaeya the scars the burn wounds left behind.

His hands would gently graze over your arms, tracing the spots you’d been carefully hiding under coats and sleeves.

For the full duration of his visit he’d talk about his new job – being the cavalry captain. And although he never apologized for the few weeks he’d been absent from your life, you understood his way of making it up to you.

Once again, his visits became a routine.

Kaeya would drop by after work. Depending on his free time to spend, it’d be a quick check-up, helping you prepare dinner, or spending the whole afternoon with you.

You’d gotten to know his favourite songs, food, colour, topics, and more.

Previously you’d felt like an outcast ever since your accident. You were unable to leave Springvale without anxiety taking over, you couldn’t do any more exploration quests, and you had started to isolate yourself without knowing you did.

Kaeya brought out the best out of you.

There was a time where you hoped he’d be your soulmate. But whoever your soulmate was, they’d be covered with the same burn marks and scars you have.

Maybe if you never had a soulmate at all you wouldn’t have these wounds.

And maybe if you didn’t have a soulmate, you’d be able to say the words ‘I love you’ to Kaeya.

He’d be the first person to take you outside of Springvale after the accident.

You’d drink a few glasses of wine before he’d walk you back home.

You now know why the staff of Angel Share seems to know him so well.

And as routine continued for a few years, the day came for Diluc Ragnvindr to return to Mondstadt again.

Kaeya showed up less often after that. He’d still send letters, saying his job was occupying him more than before, but you knew better.

He’d never told you what happened between him and his brother, but you assumed both became distant from each other after the death of their father.

You’d walk to Mondstadt alone to search for Kaeya.

Two weeks had passed since his brothers return and you hadn’t seen him since. It had been the longest time you hadn’t seen him in years.

While searching in familiar spots you walk into Angels Share, but instead of the blue haired Ragnvindr brother, you found the redheaded one.

The tavern had been busy, but you still rushed out when you made eye contact with Diluc Ragnvindr.

“I heard you met Diluc.” Kaeya smirks and you turn your head away.

“Hmm. Not exactly what happened.” You roll your eyes. “I ran away when I first made eye contact with him. I doubt that counts as ‘meeting someone’.”

You hear Kaeya chuckle and you can’t help but smile. He’s on your right side. You have to fully turn your head for him to be visible.

The both of you had decided to plop down in the grass near the lake of Springvale. His sword is somewhere next to him and his horse is tied to a tree a bit further away.

He came straight from the Favonius Headquarters after he ran into his brother. While he wouldn’t share what the redhead told him you assumed it had something to do with either their fight or your awkward introduction.

“I was worried about you.”

Kaeya sighs dramatically, easing the tension in the air. “I’m fine. Diluc can be a bit dramatic but I can handle it.”

“Are you sure?”

He hums.

Earlier that day Diluc had approached Kaeya. And as the person who’d given Kaeya the scar across his right eye, he had easily recognised the same one on your face.

Kaeya doesn’t have any burn marks. Somehow the gods decided to give him a cryo vision to save his life and to save his body from the flames Diluc casted so long ago.

But you hadn’t been as lucky.

Days – or rather years – Kaeya had wondered why he’d been the one to receive the cryo vision.

You hadn’t known him at that point, you’d been a bystander, and yet the gods decided to save him and to leave you behind.

They rejected a beautiful person like you and favoured the filthy person he was.

He initially thought you knew he was your soulmate, until you confirmed you didn’t.

You thought your soulmate had to have the exact same wounds. A scar on your right eye and burn marks covering your arms, but he didn’t. And so you never realised the person closest to you was your soulmate.

For years Kaeya had decided to enjoy your company as much as you’d let him.

He didn’t deserve you after all that had happened. How could he ever tell you the truth?

But with Diluc back in Mondstadt it’s bound to be a ticking time bomb.

Kaeya moves his head to face you. You’re both still laying in the grass. Your eyes are closed and your hair moves with the soft breeze that flows across the meadow.

Maybe he’d tell you next time.

But for now he’d enjoy these last moments of peace with the only person that can ever understand him.

His soulmate.

You.

#1k event #Kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya x y/n #kaeya genshin impact #Genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #soulmate au #genshin angst #nct angst #is it angst?#a little bit #but a little bit wholesome as well

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excalibur-gone-missing · 30 days

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NCT Recommendations:

NCT

NCT 127

NCT DREAM

WAYV

Others

#nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct u #nct fanfic #nct recommendations #angst #fluff #smut #e2l #soulmates

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cinnajun · 2 years

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ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: ghosting | njm

summary | na jaemin is your soulmate; having known for about eight months now, you’ve been able to come to terms with the fact that you’re never, ever going to let him know it. (OR, a series of events in which you're forced to face your fate.)

genre | soulmate au. non-idol au.angst & some fluff at the end, y/n kinda destroys jaemin’s week. fear of commitment is strong and y/n has social anxiety. mentions of alcohol. some nsfw implications (conversation) but nothing explicit. quick/unreliable narration.

wc | 7.6k

a/n: the fic that was the inception of this blog! it’s based upon a mini fic i had planned out for beomgyu of txt, but i twisted a bit for this (obviously). i’m not as happy with this as i could be, but i think it’s good enough lol

ft. aespa's karina/winter, itzy's ryujin.

JUNE 21, 14 YEARS AGO. You’re seven years old when you first ask your mom about the little sun on your right wrist, curious about what lies behind the blue, swirled lines. She seemed so amused, at the time, staring at you with such admiration that remembering it made you feel sick.

“When you’re older,” she said, kneeling on the floor to be level with you, “you’re gonna meet someone with a matching mark on their left wrist.”

Gently, she picked your hand up, your palm facing the sky. “Right here.” She pointed at a spot on the corner of your wrist. “Maybe a moon, or a storm cloud, or a planet…whoever has the other half will be clear to you. You’ll recognize it. And that person will be your perfect other half.”

To a seven-year-old, who watched princess movies every day and dreamt of a prince to sweep them off their feet, the mark was dazzling. The thought of someone tailor-made to be your companion was dazzling.

You wish you still thought the same way.

FEBRUARY 18, 3 YEARS AGO, and you’re graduating high school. You spent your days sitting in the library with your friends, inhaling information as if it was more vital to you than water. You hadn’t started trying to cover the mark, then—in fact, you were infatuated with a friend’s relationship with her soulmate, and wanted so desperately to have the same link they did.

The ceremony was long, and you fought off falling asleep for most of it, but you were so proud you had done it. It, as in graduate high school with an impressive university to go to and recognition from your father, who never seemed to care what you were doing.

Then, university seemed like a dream. You remember your mom saying, “Hey, what if you meet your soulmate there?” and you remember the giddiness you felt at even the notion of that. Your life was beginning, now, and it made you feel excited.

That was the first time you’d felt truly excited about something in years. There were no more CSATs, no more disapproving stares when you got less than a 95 on a test, no more endless homework assignments and sleepless nights.

You wished it would’ve turned out like you thought it would in your brain.

SEPTEMBER 01, 3 YEARS AGO, and you’re in a psychiatrist’s office, spiders crawling up and down your throat as you struggle to find comfort. It’s so…artificial, in the way that calming art prints and fake plants line the room, in the way that the couch you sat on felt new and unused, in the way it smelled faintly of mint and lavender.

“It’s something we see a lot in first-year university students,” the doctor explained, obviously trying to reassure you. “I mean, kids like you spend their entire high school experiences with their noses in their books, and then they just don’t know how to handle the real world. With some good therapy and exposure, you’ll be right up to speed, okay?”

Nothing was going how you envisioned it. You had two friends, one of which had practically adopted you after you gave him your homework answers, and one being an acquaintance from middle school. You didn’t go to Itaewon every weekend, you didn’t make out with random strangers, and you didn’t drink until you couldn’t breathe. Instead, you watched space documentaries in your apartment and ordered delivery for dinner every night.

“I’m just going to ask some personal profile questions to grasp what we might deal with, and then I can refer you some to good help, okay?”

You should’ve seen this coming. It had always been one of your mom’s biggest worries after one of your cousins ended up dropping out of university and becoming an embarrassing recluse, even though he’d been ranked first in his high school class.

There was no way you were going to drop out—you knew that well enough—but even so much as edging towards that fate made you feel like a failure. Sure, you were at Seoul National University, and sure, you essentially had a job waiting for you the moment you graduated, but that didn’t mean you were happy. Not at all.

“Have you met your soulmate?”

This question was unexpected. Your eyes shot up from your lap, your facial expression morphing into one of confusion. “Uh, no. Not yet.”

The doctor scribbled something down on his notepad, which confused you even further. “A lot of kids your age freak out when they meet their soulmate and often cut them off completely. If you ever find yourself doing that, consult a professional, okay?”

You wished you’d heeded his advice a bit more.

DECEMBER 21, EIGHT MONTHS AGO. This year would be the first year you celebrated Christmas without your family, but you weren’t too worried; you had three roommates, your closest friends, to spend it with, and Ryujin’s girlfriend.

December 21st is a day you’d like to remember fondly. You spent the majority of the day shopping, with Jimin blowing through a huge bonus she’d received at her job. You laughed and screwed around, making a mess out of the world around you.

“Jeno is streaming again,” Minjeong had said, looking down at her phone. “Looks like he’s with Jaemin and Donghyuck.”

Jeno was one of Minjeong’s close friends in high school, but they’d fallen out with each other during their first year of university. After that, she’d gone off to eight million fashion internships and he’d started a successful streaming career, and they lost all common ground they had.

Sometime in the past year, though, she’d become fixated on rekindling their friendship, claiming that she missed being his friend more than anything in the world. However, you knew better—you knew why Minjeong wanted him back in her life so bad.

“Holy shit, turn it on,” Jimin said, slapping Minjeong’s shoulder. “Quick! Put it on the TV so we can all watch.”

The 10-hour-long fireplace video they’d been watching suddenly transitioned to a Lee Jeno and Lee Donghyuck wrestling each other for the other’s Wii remote, all while Na Jaemin, SNU’s resident heartthrob and student council secretary, sat on a couch with a stupid smile on his face. Minjeong and Jimin were fascinated with him, as were most people—honestly, you included—you met.

The chat rolled down the right corner screen, calling for either Jeno or Donghyuck to win the fight. A few demanded that Jaemin proceed with the game, leading you to assume the monstrosity of the Mii up to bowl was his.

“What do you think? Should I go? Will Jeno sabotage me like he did Hyuck?” Jaemin asked, standing and approaching the camera. Soon enough, his face was essentially the only thing you could see on the camera feed. He seemed to be staring at the chat, which now was filled with people telling him to move so they could see the fight. “Wow, you guys are mean.”

“Just go!” Zhong Chenle’s voice appeared, although he wasn’t on the screen. You were mesmerized by how quickly the viewers accustomed to new environments presented to them; if you were a frequent stream-viewer, you don’t think you could do the same.

“I’ll demo my bowl, okay? Ready?” Jaemin stepped back from the camera, exaggeratedly swinging his arm back and forth. And then, the storm started.

“Pause it!” Jimin shrieked, leaning over to grab the remote. “Pause it! The mark is on his wrist!”

For some reason, a chill ran down your back, and your stomach began to churn. At that moment, you were perplexed—it was incredibly unreasonable for you to think that Na Jaemin was your soulmate. The wrist was the most common place to have your soulmate mark by far, only followed by your shoulder and the base of your neck; the odds of you two matching up were few and far between.

Still, you couldn't shake the nerves. Minjeong was now less than a foot away from the TV, and, from where they paused the stream, it seemed the chat was also freaking out about the mark. One message stood out to you, and it made your blood run cold.

“It’s pink! Na Jaemin has a pink soulmate mark, are you kidding me?”

Suddenly, you were staring at your wrist. A blue swirl accompanied by short, blue lines jutting out of it—a little doodle of the sun—was on the center of your right wrist, opaque and clear. People had always told you that the mark was perfect, including Ryujin, who confessed how jealous she was of you when you’d first met.

“It’s a little doodle of Saturn,” Jimin finally announced, just as the chat had. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. This moment was something you’d looked forward to for your whole life, but now that it was finally happening, you felt nauseous.

Looking up, you tried to see around Jimin and Minjeong, who mostly covered the screen. If it was on his right wrist, if he was playing with his right hand, you’d be in the clear.

For a moment, you felt relieved. To you, it looked like it was his right hand, but a few seconds of thinking yielded to you the truth. Your wrist began to tingle.

There was no way. Seriously, there was no way that Na Jaemin—

“You good, [First]?”

The sudden calling of your name made you jump, with your hand flying to cover the mark on your wrist. Ryujin rounded the sofa you sat on, taking refuge next to you. “Oh, yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” you mumbled weakly.

No, you weren’t. That was a lie.

Na Jaemin was your soulmate, and you didn’t want him to be.

JANUARY 29, SIX MONTHS AGO, and Jimin is loudly proclaiming how Minjeong is currently having coffee with Jeno and should be back soon. You both sit at your dining table, along with Ryujin, who seemed to be more entranced in her phone than the conversation.

“If we play our cards right…” Jimin began, though she didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she started giggling and hitting Ryujin’s shoulder in what seemed to be delight. “Imagine the parties we’ll be invited to and the people who will be at our house! Imagine Huang Renjun on our couch, Ryujinnie!”

“I have a girlfriend,” Ryujin spoke slowly, refusing to drag her eyes away from her phone. “Speaking of, Chaer wants to know if she can borrow those light blue shoes you have, [First].”

Glad the conversation had been derailed, you said, “Of course, I don’t mind at all.” Ryujin nodded slowly, beginning to furiously type what you assumed to be a text to Chaeryeong.

“Okay, back to Jeno and Minjeong. I mean, what if one of them is mine or [First]’s soulmate—” you shuttered, though neither of them noticed— “or something? Zhong Chenle is rich and gorgeous, I’d love to be his soulmate.”

“Aren’t Chenle and you friends?” Ryujin suddenly asked, looking up at you. For a moment, you were confused, but a few memories from your first year came rushing into your head.

“We were for a bit during our first year. After the class we shared ended, we lost touch.” You nodded, twiddling your thumbs. “He was one of my only friends until I met you, Ryujin. Definitely not my soulmate. In the seven months he dragged me everywhere with him, I would’ve found out.”

Jimin gasped, covering her mouth with her hand and staring at you like you’d just killed her mom. “You were friends with Zhong Chenle?”

“Until he was in Lee Jeno’s crowd, yes. I met Ryujin and he met Mark. We stopped talking right around there.”

Before you could process what she was doing, Jimin had reached across your table, snatching the phone up. The action even caused Ryujin to look up from her phone in shock, but she didn’t move to stop Jimin as she made a beeline for the bathroom.

“What the hell?” you exclaimed, getting up to follow after her. You barely took three steps before the bathroom door slammed shut and the sound of the lock clicking into place filled your ears. “Jimin, give me my phone back, please.”

You approached the bathroom door, knocking on it. “Seriously dude. This isn’t funny.”

Jimin was completely silent, to the point where it was debatable whether or not she was even in there. Ryujin had gotten up and was standing a little behind you, staring at the door as well. Quicker than you would’ve imagined, the lock clicked once again, and the door opened slowly.

Jimin stood with her arm stretched out, your phone in hand. There was a smug look on her face that made you feel a bit nervous, reasonably enough, and you didn’t really want to take your phone back.

“What’d you do?” Ryujin asked, snatching the phone up for you. She scanned the screen, frowning the moment she did. “Jimin, come on. You know—”

“They were friends, right?” she asked, shrugging. “Shouldn’t be an issue.”

Tired of not having your phone, you took it back, finally able to look at what you were dealing with.

Jimin had dug up Chenle’s contact, and sent him a simple message: hey, want to meet up?

And, Chenle, being the fast responder he was, had already begun typing.

FEBRUARY 03, SEVEN MONTHS AGO. You sit in Zhong Chenle’s apartment, owned and paid for by his parents, in the center of Seoul. The thing is huge—bigger than your apartment, which is shared by four different people.

As far as you were aware, Chenle was the only person living in the house now, but it was possible his mom and aunt still visited frequently. When you’d been friends, his mom had been pretty adverse to you, so you were glad she wasn’t there anymore.

Chenle had asked you to watch Daegal while he went to go get both of you dinner, which he insisted was “his treat.” He seemed so excited to finally be talking with you again, which just made you feel terrible that Jimin had to force you into going.

When you arrived at his apartment, he’d given you a bone-crushing hug, accompanied by one of the kindest smiles you’d seen in a while. After that, you spent an hour sitting on his couch, getting acquainted with his new dog and talking about all you’d been doing. To no surprise, Chenle was changing the world and trying everything under the sun, while you were sitting alone in dark rooms and staring through telescopes.

Happily, you scratched behind Daegal’s ear, enjoying the attention you were getting from the dog. You wish you would’ve heard the faint sound of the front door unlocking, but the layout of Chenle’s apartment was unreasonable and blocked any noise coming from that far. You wished you would’ve heard footsteps, or been able to hear an unwelcome guest calling out for the owner of the apartment.

“Oh, hello.”

The voice was familiar, it was dangerous. You gasped, head snapping to the side at the sudden surprise. Daegal seemed overjoyed to see the visitor, leaping off the couch and running towards him. Daegal’s distraction gave you just enough time to yank your sleeve down before he fully entered the room.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Na Jaemin asked, bending down to pet the dog. He glanced up at you—Minjeong would be crying if she was you right now—and offered a cordial smile.

“Not at all,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to try to get rid of the violent discomfort you felt. “I was good friends with Chenle during our first year, so we’re just catching up…”

“Oh.” Jaemin seemed to be thinking as he scooped up Daegal and went to sit on the seat across from you. “[First], then? Chenle talks about you a lot.”

For Chenle’s sake, you were just going to ignore that he said that and focus on the issue at hand. He didn’t seem to be acting odd, as if he felt any sort of “connection” like your mom insisted would happen. In fact, he was so nonchalant that, if you weren’t painfully aware of your connection, you might’ve felt calm too.

“That would be me, yes.”

The moment Jaemin sat, Daegal leaped off his lap, sprinting out of the room. You wished, so terribly, that the dog would’ve stayed.

“I’m Na Jaemin,” he introduced himself, though you were sure it was only out of formality. Apparently, all your luck had run out, because Jaemin extended his left arm out, intending for you to shake it. Clearly visible was that little, pink Saturn on his wrist, which he felt absolutely no shame in displaying.

You tried your best to ignore it, keeping your right arm completely obscured and shaking his hand like normal. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaemin. Thanks for all you do for the school, it’s very admirable.”

MARCH 12, SIX MONTHS AGO, and Zhong Chenle is suddenly back in your life. Minjeong has been seeing Jeno frequently, and now, your reclusive, little friend group is suddenly in the spotlight. Jimin gained a good hundred followers on Instagram since people saw her and Lee Donghyuck together, and, all of a sudden, Minjeong and Jimin are the it-girls of the school. Just like how Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin are the it-boys.

It was obvious how much both you and Ryujin detested the sudden attention. To both of you, it felt like your whole life was suddenly on display thanks to your two other roommates. Now, they were interested in throwing parties and drinking until they dropped—which, to be fair, you both didn’t care about the getting drunk and partying part—but you and Ryujin wanted to keep your home quiet and unsuspecting.

“Okay, so, we throw the party. Let our neighbors know, ‘hey, this is happening.’ [First] and I go to Chaeryeong and Chaeyeon’s apartment for the night. Then, two drunk idiots wander into my bedroom and have sex on my bed. A couple others throw up all over [First]’s. What then?” Ryujin asked, taking an angry bite of her tteokbokki. “Party all you want, okay, but you are not going to throw a party here.”

You sat quietly at the edge of the dinner table, watching the three of them go back and forth with no end in sight. You hadn’t offered any sort of input, but you were on Ryujin’s side…you didn’t want your home to get trashed, and you didn’t want noise complaints or police there, either.

“I just don’t see why not. You pay the least amount of rent, Ryujin, so why should you get to choose?” Jimin shot back, crossing her arms.

“And you know who pays the most?” Ryujin asked, her arm jutting out across the table. “[First] pays over half. Ask her.”

You cringed at that. You were thankful for your very, very nicely paying internship, but you rather wouldn’t make a decision that was causing your only friends to argue tooth and nail. Suddenly, all eyes were on you, and you could only trace lines on the table.

“Um, can’t you just…go to a club or something? I’d rather not destroy the house…we rent it, so it’s fees upon fees out of our pockets…”

Minjeong sighed, resting her head on her hands. “[First] has a point. I don’t want that hag to scream at us like she did when we took a chunk out of the wall. Let’s just go to a club. Or we can coerce Jeno into throwing a party. His and Jaemin’s apartment is nice.”

Silence took over. Jimin, obviously upset, stood up and stormed off, leaving the three of you alone. Minjeong seemed to feel some sort of guilt, but she didn’t move to follow Jimin. The house went quiet again, and you wondered if something bad was starting up.

APRIL 14, FIVE MONTHS AGO, and things are starting to go very wrong. Chaeryeong, Ryujin’s girlfriend, met her soulmate, and now they’re trying to figure out if they should break up or not. Ryujin, who doesn’t have a soulmate mark, hadn’t left her room for two days, only taking water bottles and meals you, Jimin, and Minjeong were leaving outside her room.

Now, you were birthday present shopping with Minjeong and Chenle, and Jaemin was supposedly going to show up soon. You sat at a booth in some random restaurant, tucked into the back corner, watching Minjeong bicker with Chenle about whether or not Jaemin would want one of Chenle’s “stupid” (in Minjeong’s terms) friendship bracelets.

You had your left hand practically wired to your wrist, and your stomach felt like it was eating itself. You’d done a fantastic job at avoiding any event Jaemin went to, and none of your friends had noticed it yet. Not even Chenle, who seemed to know just about all of your mannerisms (he’d learned them well back during your first year).

“I think he’s gonna like it,” you decided to input, smiling at Minjeong across the table. She shook her head jokingly, sizing you up at the same time. Chenle laughed to your left, reaching into his pocket and fishing around for a sec.

“You’re in luck, Minjeong, because…” he said, yanking a small, silver chain out of his pocket. “I made one for you too!”

Happily, Chenle slid out of the booth and slid onto Minjeong’s side, grabbing her wrist. She bitterly let him put it on, although it seemed like he was struggling. You smiled as they laughed with one another, happy that your friends were getting along.

“Sorry I’m late—” It was crazy how easily anxiety triumphed over joy— “the pharmacy took a million years. But, I’m here now!”

Jaemin, unaware that Chenle was originally next to you, sat down beside you. His arm pressed against yours, and you swear you felt lightheaded, but you chose to ignore it. Chenle didn’t seem too bothered and decided to stay where he was.

Minjeong seemed to notice your sudden stress, giving you a weird look. You shook your head, smiling weakly, but she didn’t seem to trust you too much. “How are you, [First]? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You looked to your side, laughing awkwardly. “I’ve been okay. Staying up late and getting up early, all the same routine,” you explained, trying your best not to panic even though he looked into your eyes so intently.

“That’s good, that’s good.”

As Jaemin took his coat off, he once again let his mark show, and you (once again) did your very best to not focus on it.

“And how are you, Minjeong?”

Deeming your short conversation to be over, you turned your head to the side, looking out the window. Clouds bunched up in the sky, maintaining a dark gray color that made you think it was going to start storming soon.

Letting your guard down, you unwrapped your hand from your wrist, simply making sure that your sleeve kept it covered and you didn’t use your right hand much (despite the fact you were right-handed).

“I feel like I don’t know much about you, but everyone always talks about you, [First],” Jaemin suddenly mused. Keeping yourself calm and collected, you turned in his direction, shrugging a bit.

“I’m not the most social person, I guess.”

“I think I’ll ask you a question every time I see you,” he declared, turning his attention to both Chenle and Minjeong. “What’s a good question to ask?”

Both of them seemed caught off guard, looking at each other in slight shock. “Um,” Chenle started, pausing to see if Minjeong would speak. “You could ask about her major?”

Jaemin looked back at you, waiting for your response. Knowing this was something you couldn’t lie about, you swallowed your discontent, ready to accept your new, question-answering fate.

“Astrophysics. With a minor in classical music.”

LATER THAT NIGHT, you and the rest of your roommates sit in the living room, watching one of the ridiculous reality shows Jimin ate up. Ryujin had even come out of her room to partake in the fun, but her eyes were still red, and her face was still cemented into a frown.

It was late into the night now, and Minjeong and Jimin were practically asleep on each other, struggling to stay awake for the remainder of the episode. Given the nature of your internship, you were used to staying up too late, so you weren’t tired at all. It didn’t seem like Ryujin was either, and, if you had to guess, it was because she’d probably slept the day away.

“Why don’t you guys just go to bed?” Ryujin asked, hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest. “You look like you barely know what’s happening.”

“We have to know who gets eliminated,” Minjeong slurred, followed by a huge yawn. “Before we go to bed.”

“Man, I don’t agree,” Jimin huffed, snatching the remote up from the coffee table. She paused the show, exiting back out onto the Netflix home screen. “I’m going to bed. I have an 8 am tomorrow.”

“Come on, Jiminie! This is your thing, isn’t it?”

“I don’t care.” Jimin stood, stretching her arms out and groaning. “Night.”

Minjeong mumbled a string of incoherencies before she stood and trudged behind Jimin, disappearing from the living room. Not ready to go to bed, you leaned forward and grabbed the remote, beginning to scroll through the documentaries Netflix had to offer.

Ryujin seemed a bit uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel the need to inquire. Even when she began staring at you, you just kept scrolling, reading descriptions and skipping over ones that seemed boring.

“I just don’t get it,” Ryujin hesitated, her voice sounding uneven and shaky. You assumed she was going to start talking about Chaeryeong, and how she had more to offer than her soulmate ever did. “Help me understand, [First]. Seriously.”

“Understand what?”

“Why won't you tell him?”

Your whole body froze. Suddenly, the remote felt like a block of iron, and your whole body felt like a brittle table about to break. At that moment, your mind was completely blank. It felt like you were mentally resetting, desperately searching for an answer to give.

Instead of being reasonable, you immediately jumped to defend yourself. “You wouldn’t get it,” you said, returning to scroll through the documentaries. You couldn’t ignore how your heart was pounding, how your chest felt tight, or how you felt like crying now as well.

“No, no, I think I do. Are you going to ruin one of his relationships too? When you decide you feel ready enough to break the news?”

“This is none of your business, Ryujin. Drop it.”

“It is every bit of my business,” she shot back, taking the remote from your hands. You snapped your head towards her, your face twisting into one of bitterness. “You blow off Minjeong and Jimin all the time because of him, even though he is literally your universal match. You spend hours painting foundation on your wrist just for it to be unrecoverable for god knows what reason. You wear long sleeves no matter how hot it is, or you put a bandaid over it. What about Na Jaemin is so bad that you, notoriously lazy, can barely comprehend confessing to him?”

“I’m telling you, you won’t get it, so just drop it. This has nothing to do with what happened between you and Chaeryeong, and it isn’t the least bit similar, because Jaemin will never know it’s me. Okay?”

“One slip up and he’ll see it. He’ll know you’ve been lying, because I’ve been to a few hangouts, and he doesn’t try to cover it at all. He’ll know you’ve known, and he won’t understand why you didn’t tell him, and all you’ll have done was hurt him. How could you do that, [First]? How could you?”

“Do you know what it’s like, Ryujin?” you asked, finally letting loose on your emotions. “To be afraid of the person the world has paired you up with? To think they’d be disappointed in you? Not to mention I’d be widely hated for something I can’t control—for god’s sake, when it got out that Jeno had found his soulmate, somebody sent her a dead bird in the mail. Do you think I want that?”

“Yeah, but Jaemin isn’t an internet celebrity with a bunch of psychopath fans,” Ryujin argued back. “Stop being such a bitch and tell him. Or I will.”

“If you tell him anything, Shin Ryujin, I will kick you out of this house and never speak to you again. Do you hear me?”

Tears began spilling from Ryujin’s eyes now, likely from the residual sorrow of Chaeryeong finding her soulmate. “If you ruin somebody’s life like somebody ruined mine, I will never, ever forgive you.”

“I’m not looking for your forgiveness, Ryujin. I am telling you that my situation is different from yours, so you should keep yourself up and out of it. I’m just not meant for the world’s formula, okay? You are, even if you don’t have a soulmate mark. So is Chaeryeong. You will find happiness, but your happiness does not hinge on my decisions,” you rationalized, sitting back on the couch. Ryujin stood up slowly, pausing for a moment in front of the couch.

“My point still stands. If you don’t tell him, I will. Even if you kick me out and never speak to me again.”

You didn’t take Ryujin’s warning seriously.

APRIL 23, FIVE MONTHS AGO, and you’re hiding. The past hour or so has essentially torn down your entire life as you know it, and now, you’re not sure what to do. So, you hide, as you have since you were a kid, as you have since you walked into the psychiatrist’s office three years ago.

It began fine. Jeno’s birthday dinner was something you and your friends had been looking forward to since the end of March (mostly because Jeno would be paying for the dinner and you’d be simply attending). Chenle had let you tack your name onto his card, as you didn’t know Jeno very well, so you’d seriously paid nothing for this.

By now, you and Ryujin had made up and were sitting next to each other near the end of the table. You didn’t know many people here, so Chenle had been nice enough to sit himself and Renjun across from you both. You were having a good time, save for when you had to avoid the pointing glare of Jeno’s camera (he announced to everyone that his fanbase had been pretty ardently asking for a birthday vlog, and to just move out of frame every time he brought the camera out).

It was a nice dinner, seriously. The food was good and the atmosphere was nice and homey, and Jaemin was all the way across the table from you. It wasn’t stressful for you at all.

You did, however, notice the girl who’d been staring at your table pretty intensely. She and her friends were having hushed conversations, throwing glances at Jeno’s side of the table and pointing ever so often. You pointed it out to Chenle, who brushed it off saying “that’s what usually happens.”

Then she got up. Then her friends pushed her toward the table. Then, she was tapping Jaemin on the shoulder, twiddling her thumbs, and the table had gone silent.

“Um, I think…I think you’re my soulmate?” she said, and your heart dropped. Ryujin tensed up visibly next to you, watching Jaemin jump up from his seat in shock. Jeno had already gotten the camera out, quietly recording the girl showing a little, green Earth on her right wrist.

Jaemin seemed a little shocked, taking her wrist to stare at it. And, as a smile began to form on his face, Ryujin grabbed your wrist and wrenched you both out of your chairs. You looked at her with a face of shock, a face of betrayal, as she began to speak.

“No, you are not,” Ryujin exclaimed. Jeno kept recording, although now he seemed surprised. Minjeong and Jimin stared at you both in shock and half-embarrassment, with Jimin already about to stand and tell Ryujin to shut up.

Meanwhile, the girl looked like a deer in headlights, and her friends had their hands over their mouths. You wanted to run, apologize and say Ryujin was drunk, but you could barely move from your spot. Your hands began to shake, and your breathing began to grow unsteady.

“Excuse me?” Jaemin finally spoke, looking shocked as well.

“[First] is.” Ryujin held up your wrist, yanking your sleeve down to reveal the small, doodled sun on your wrist. Something flashed across Jaemin’s face, likely the recognition your mother had told you about as a child, and that is when you regained yourself.

You wrenched your wrist from Ryujin’s grasp, not waiting another second for anything else to happen. Instead, you yanked your purse from the edge of your seat and nearly ran out of the restaurant, not paying any mind to the calling of your name, or Jimin and Minjeong’s hurt faces.

You were running. Where you were running to, you were unsure, but you were running.

You left your phone on the table.

APRIL 25, FIVE MONTHS AGO, and you’ve been off the grid for two days. Nobody could contact you due to your lack-of-phone, which was nice, yet stressful at the same time. You haven’t gone to any of your classes, but you at least managed to find housing and grab your computer from your apartment. In your panic, you’d shown up at your old friend’s apartment—your old middle school acquaintance—and asked for refuge.

Luckily, he had agreed, pretty quickly in fact. And, being the person who forced you into your first psychiatrist appointment, listened to your predicament and semi-sided with you, which made you relieved.

Minjeong had figured out pretty quickly that you were staying with Sungchan, but she didn’t know his address, and only knew his phone number. He’d answered about three of her calls, telling her to screw off and to let you recover from the panic you felt nearly every second of the day.

“While I agree it was selfish to decide you were never going to tell him,” he would tell you, over dinner or while you grocery shopped, “it wasn’t nice for Ryujin to out your secret before you were ready.”

Sungchan was kind to you, as he always had been, having no issue allowing you to reset and rewind. You could stay for as long as you liked, and you could return to the real world whenever you were ready.

APRIL 26, FIVE MONTHS AGO. Na Jaemin isn’t sure what he’s done wrong, nor does he know how to fix it. Minjeong swears she has it under control, swears she knows where you are and what you’re doing, but Chenle hasn’t looked more stressed in his life, and Jeno said you haven’t shown up to classes since his birthday.

Jaemin was confused. He felt impulsive and angry, angry at you, angry at Ryujin, angry at everyone. He’s spent every waking moment rethinking every one of your interactions, the last moments he saw you, wondering what exactly happened.

He’d talked to all of your friends, but only Ryujin seemed to have a clue. When they talked, she revealed when you’d figured it out, stating that “Minjeong and Jimin were watching one of Jeno’s streams on the TV and paused when your mark was visible, and that’s when she’d realized.”

Not once in his life did Jaemin think his soulmate would reject him. He’s been popular his whole life, and he’s always done his best to put himself out there. He’s been on SNU’s student council since his freshman year, and he’s done copious amounts of volunteer work with Jeno. Did you somehow think he was a bad person? That he’d hurt you?

Whatever was going on, he just didn’t understand it. But, without you around, he couldn’t ask, and, at this point, he didn’t think he was ever going to know.

APRIL 27, FOUR MONTHS AGO, and Jaemin’s just received a text that you’ve come home. It was from Jimin, and it was short—we set an ultimatum and she came back, we are talking it out now, will call you later—but it was enough.

Jeno seemed to believe you were some kind of awful person for what you did, but Jaemin knew you weren’t. Even now, as Jeno listed out all the times you’d met and never said anything, he knew you weren’t.

“We don’t know the whole story,” Jaemin insisted, bouncing his leg up and down. “I mean, would Jimin go through these lengths for anybody? She wouldn’t.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that she lied.”

“She didn’t lie, though.” Jaemin stole a glance at his phone, but the only new notification was one from Amazon, saying his package shipped. “We just don’t know enough, Jeno. We just don’t know.”

Jeno kept quiet after that, picking up his phone and beginning to scroll through god knows what. Jaemin kept staring at his phone, waiting for anything from Jimin, whether it be a “we came to a conclusion” or “things aren’t looking good” text.

APRIL 28, FOUR MONTHS AGO. Jimin sits in front of Jaemin at a café next to his house, and it’s very awkward. Jimin seems to not know what to say as she sits there, twiddling her thumbs and staring at her hands.

“She just wasn’t ready,” Jimin finally spoke, sighing. She seemed to almost deflate in her seat, as if the fact was some big secret. “If you aren’t already aware, she’s not the most…social person, right? And the whole soulmate thing is a big commitment. And, from a social standpoint, you are really, really scary.”

Jaemin frowned, lacing his fingers around his coffee mug. “And then, of course, Ryujin was going through a bad breakup because her girlfriend found her soulmate, and she was upset that [First] had something she didn’t. Right? She just malfunctioned. Think of it as a breakdown, or something, but it freaked her out,” Jimin finished, biting the inside of her cheek. Jaemin pondered for a second, wondering what might be the best course of action.

“So is she going to meet with me, or?”

“She agreed to meet with you next week. That’s about as much as we could drag out of her.”

Just a bit longer, Jaemin thought, before I can figure things out for myself. Before I can fix things.

MAY 03, FOUR MONTHS AGO. You sit at a table in the back corner of a convenience store, slurping up a big vat of instant ramen you’d purchased. At the same time, you feel like throwing up from how nervous you were, but that didn’t matter as much as how good the ramen you were eating.

The past few weeks of your life had been awful. From nearly unfriending Ryujin to Chenle uncomfortably hinting that Lee Jeno, who had over a million subscribers on YouTube and many loyal fans, hated you, everything was completely terrible.

Not to mention the sudden week you’d taken off from your internship or the number of classes you’d missed from the breakdown. If Sungchan hadn’t been taking most of the same classes as you, thanks to your shared major, you might’ve died.

On top of that, Na Jaemin was late to your meet-up, even though Jimin insisted he was the one who wanted it. You’d been sitting here for nearly twenty minutes, nervously eating and checking your phone every three seconds.

If this had been any other sort of meet-up, you’d have just left, but the angel on your shoulder insisted he wouldn’t stand you up for this kind of meeting, right?

And you would be right. Jaemin burst into the convenience store, drawing the eyes of nearly everyone inside (an old woman waiting out the rain and the teenage cashier). You felt embarrassed for yourself and him, but you kept your eyes on your food.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jaemin panted, sitting down across from you. He was dripping wet, but his hair had been kept perfectly intact thanks to his hood (which he wrenched off the moment he got inside). “Jeno found out his soulmate was lying. Found another mark on her back.”

The news caused you to choke on your ramen, and for you to drop the chopsticks into the bowl. You went to cover your mouth, swallowing the rest as fast as you could. “Wow, are you okay? Sorry, didn’t think it would be that shocking.”

“Hasn’t—” you coughed again— “hasn’t it been, like, a year? She’s managed to lie for that long?”

“Completely. To be honest, I had my suspicions, but I never said anything. Good news is, he doesn’t hate you anymore!” Jaemin smiled, giving you jazz hands. “Yay! Celebration! He agrees that lying about it is worse than hiding it!”

You frowned at him, picking your chopsticks back up. “Woohoo, because that’s what I was worried about.”

You took another bite of your food, and silence came between you. Uncomfortably, Jaemin cleared his throat. “Uh, can I see it?”

Sighing, you dropped your chopsticks for the second time, lifting your shirt sleeve up. You laid out your wrist onto the table, allowing for Jaemin to see the little sun on your wrist. Gently, he slid his hand under your own, brushing over the mark with his thumb. The little, blue sun tingled at the touch, and it made you feel giddier than you would’ve liked to.

Jaemin lifted his left arm, putting it next to yours. Sure enough, the Saturn and the sun lined up perfectly, and the style of the doodles matched perfectly.

“I figured it out a while ago,” you said after you’d swallowed, staring at your wrists side-by-side. “I’m Saturn, you’re the sun. I orbit around you, from far away.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin asked, letting go of your wrist. You pulled your arm back and placed it on your lap, chewing at your lip. “I’d rather you orbited close by me.”

You nearly cringed at that, feeling your ears burn at the sentiment. “Yeah, well.”

“So,” Jaemin paused for a second, sniffling. “How…can we do this? In a way that makes you comfortable. I can tell you don’t want to escalate quickly, not like Jeno and…yeah. No escalating.”

“Well, my mom will want to meet you. I don’t think my dad would care,” you mumbled. “But I want to, like, know you before you meet my mom.”

“So how do you want to get to know me?”

“Let’s just…um, go with the flow? I guess, yeah. We can be, like, friends. For now.”

You could tell that Jaemin didn’t like the title of “friend,” but that didn’t matter to you much. This was for you, and, no matter how fast he wanted to go, your consent mattered more.

Despite his displeasure, Jaemin smiled, nodding his head. “Okay, friends. I’m okay with that. For now.”

AUGUST 28, RIGHT NOW. You and Jaemin sit in the car outside your mom’s house, going over all the things he needs to know to make a good impression on your mom. He already attempted to wear a suit to your very casual family dinner, which you quickly explained wouldn’t help your case.

“When Jeno met his ex’s parents it was a train wreck,” Jaemin regurgitated, going a bit pale in the face. “He came home and looked dead. Like he was going to pass out. I don’t want that to happen.”

“My mom will just be happy you’re attractive, all right? You don’t need to be scared of her. My dad is awful, so he won’t care and will just ask about your job plans. Your answer will be—”

“Right, surgeon, I know. Student council president. Whatever. I don’t care about your dad, either, just your mom.”

“Jesus, that’s the first time anyone’s ever said that.”

You shifted your body fully to the left, facing Jaemin completely. You raised your hands and placed them on both sides of his face, leaning in very closely. “My mom is very nice. She will not care about what you do or say, as long as you are attractive and will give her—”

Suddenly, you paused, not wanting to finish your sentence. Jaemin’s lips twisted into a sinister smile. “Will what, huh? My attractive face will give her what?”

“Shut up.”

“Anything for you,” he said, leaning in and pecking you on the lips. “I think we are good to go, yeah? Since I just need to be attractive. And a doctor.”

“For sure,” you grumbled, pushing the car door open and stepping out. “Let’s just go.”

Jaemin smiled to himself, turning the car off. “Anything for you.”

thank you for reading!

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