Chapter Text
To Jinsol’s knowledge, the oldest tale in time had to do with soul markings.
Every child was born the same; marked with floral buds that would bloom across their skin as they grew. Each child born with a soulmate they’d be destined to find.
Except, sometimes there were anomalies.
—
For as long as Jinsol could remember, her hair was always this way; Deep, dark and rich in color — not necessarily black, but more like midnight blue. Regardless of this, Jinsol was born without a soul mark, her skin void of any sort of ink.
As a child, it didn't mean much to her. Of course, there’s the initial sadness of not having someone meant for her, but with her childish innocence, she’s able to filter that love into her own world; her family and her friends. But being without a soul mark starts to take a toll on Jinsol after she turns seven. When other kids begin to probe at her and yank on her hair, Jinsol learns the hard way that the rest of the world cares a great deal about being unmarked.
In simpler terms, Jinsol is different. And it wasn’t like Jinsol ever asked to be different, but she is.
Through her adolescent years, Jinsol only ever remembers being resentful and angry at anyone and everything. Constantly tormented by her peers and the concept of soul marks, she’s forced to watch soul marks bloom through her unwavering glare and gritted teeth. Consequently, Jinsol begins bleaching her hair, covering her arms and legs, and snapping at anyone that tries to get too close.
And then Jinsol turns fifteen and the dreams start.
On one random November morning, when Jinsol awakes and the morning chill is nipping at her nose and the rising sun blankets her hazy mind, she remembers glimpses of her dreams. But it’s never the full picture, only the essentials stay; An overgrown forest where moss ate away at every piece of wood it came in contact with, flowers of all kinds and colors blooming all over, an eerily small cabin where the door always stayed open emitting a strange, but inviting feeling, and most importantly, a pink haired girl she chased through the beautiful fields until the sun set in her magical dream.
Only after it becomes a recurring dream does Jinsol figure it means something.
But she doesn't speak a word about it to anyone, not even her prying parents or her best friend, Hyunjin. The pain and trauma of being an outcast had left a permanent mark of its own, one she wasn’t proud of and couldn’t bear the thought of showing off.
Despite all her anger and anxiety though, Jinsol can’t deny the yearning that gnaws at her. That underlying hope she feels for a soulmate, for the phenomena of a soul mark imprinted into her flesh — whether she dared to admit it or not.
And when Jinsol is sixteen, she finally comes to terms with the fact that she doesn’t have a soul mark, but she has a soul dream. Because pink suddenly seems a lot prettier, and every little speck of the color seems to excite her. Jinsol suspects it’s got to do with her soulmate; The pink to her blue — or something.
Now, when she’s just turned eighteen — Jinsol stops bleaching her hair and learns to love the blue that is her hair just enough and pink just a smidge more. Jinsol discovers a hopeful feeling and most importantly, she begins searching for any pink beauty that might be the one she calls her own. And just like that, the beginnings of a hopeful flower in her heart begins to bloom.
But there are lots of pink haired girls in Jinsol’s lifetime.
The first is a sweet upperclassman that Jinsol easily befriends and develops a crush on. Going by the nickname, Vivi, Jinsol met her when she was just shy of twenty and Jinsol, nineteen. The two years afterwards consist of Jinsol following her, enthralled by the vibrant bubblegum pink that is her hair while her heart beats out of her chest.
Jinsol is twenty-two when her crush on the older girl disperses into a platonic love, but strangely enough, Jinsol finds herself unvexed at the thought of being nothing more than friends. And despite the change of heart, Vivi still leaves her mark on Jinsol. Her platonic love and undying support had helped Jinsol grow into the person she hoped to someday be.
Then Vivi invites her to a house party for a girl. A girl by the name, Haseul. She might be my soulmate, Vivi hisses at her, one afternoon after many objections to not join her at the party. And that — had piqued Jinsol’s interest.
But the party proves to be a bust, Vivi had ditched her half an hour after their arrival for Haseul and Jinsol was left to her own devices. She had met a girl with a head of lavender pink, talked her up and then lost her to the crowd. It’s easy to say that Jinsol is not bummed. There are a million excuses she could use: it didn’t work out, she kept looking at another girl, that they didn’t click, or that her pink hair was simply not the right shade. But after Chaeyoung, if that was even her name, Jinsol grows tired of the party scene. Though, it could be worse, Jinsol thinks to herself. Jinsol is roughly three drinks in, giving her a nice buzz and the living room she sits in isn’t crowded enough to feel claustrophobic, but it’s most definitely stuffy from all the perfume mixing.
The kitchen is better for breathing, Jinsol discovers. The dim lighting is all the more welcoming in comparison to the flashing bright lights and only a few occupy the space. The blaring music and chatter dull into something like background static giving her a chance to clear her mind.
A voice tears her right out of her mind. “Hey, Jinsol right?”
The stranger stands to be about the height of her own eyebrows, the perfume of roses and sandalwood drifting lightly over. Jinsol’s eyes continue to rake over the girl, her hair heavy as it settles down on her back in long blonde waves, an unwelcome reminder of her own doings to destroy her hair.
“I’m Jungeun, Haseul’s best friend.”
“I see.” Jinsol swallows and supplies curtly.
Jungeun seems to nod to herself and then starts with, “So, Vivi and Haseul?”
“Yeah?” Jinsol absentmindedly replies. She was in no mood to socialize and Jungeun was clearly not picking up on her social cues.
In retrospect, Jinsol really should’ve told the girl to fuck off. But there’s something about the way she looks at Jinsol, her head tilting slightly to the left as the corner of her red lips tugs up into a half-smile, that reminds Jinsol to think of Vivi. o
Jinsol ends up sitting through another hour of a party she doesn’t want to be at, listening to someone she couldn’t give two fucks about, but pretending that she did.
The next time Jinsol meets Jungeun again, they’re having a group get together. Vivi insists that Haseul and Jungeun join them, except they also bring two broody teens that go by the name of Hyeju and Yeojin. And Jinsol begins to wonder if this is going to become a regular thing. After three get-togethers with the four new additions to their group, specifically Hyeju's budding relationship with Yerim and Chaewon, Jinsol would have to learn to be okay with it.
Although, by her fourth year of college rolls around, Jinsol has gotten used to her new friends and she meets Sana. A girl with confidence that washed off her like ocean waves in a storm, paired with starry eyes that carried an overload of genuine compassion and a fusion of gold and pink locks; Sana stuck out like a dandelion in a field of green grass. (And unlike before, with Kahei and Chaeyoung, Sana is someone Jinsol chases after relentlessly.)
And like everyone else on campus, Jinsol is unable to stay away. Even with the growing number of signs that prove Sana just wasn’t the one for her, Jinsol desperately held onto the idea of Sana being the girl of her dreams.
Because of this, Jinsol spent nearly two years, willfully ignorant and in love. She ignores the mumbled warnings from Vivi and Hyunjin and she happily tells herself that; the floral markings on Sana’s back were simply just tattoos and the resentment she felt for Sana’s newest friends, Nayeon and Momo, was just an irrational fear.
Sana was never meant to be Jinsol’s ending — it becomes increasingly evident and unavoidable when Sana finally showed Jinsol her soul marks and in hushed tones came the admission that Nayeon and Momo had similar ones.
That very night that Sana’s era ends, Jinsol spends it crying into the arms of Vivi. For the next couple months, Jinsol’s heart aches and she tries not to fall back into her old ways, angry at the world, her hair and her unmarked skin, but without Sana, it begins to feel like winter. Everything is so bitingly cold, and the familiar bitterness creeps on her. Why should she care if there is summer; its warmth is no help to her now. But in spite of everything, and without her permission — the wind turns, and her friends manage to light a fire in her heart.
And so, Jinsol chalks it up as the whimsically romantic part of her had been trying too hard to find her soulmate, forcing it, and that she should just wait for it to happen naturally. She ends up spending the rest of her year trying to drown out her thoughts. Even though the thoughts of soul marks scream at the back of her mind like an angry child crying for attention. Jinsol ignores her own desperation to be loved. To have a soulmate hold her wrists, kiss her palms, to smile at her and want her. But between juggling friends, her college career and a shitty bartending job that runs late into the night, forgetting about finding the one naturally becomes easier.
Then Vivi invites her to another party. Jungeun personally asked for her, Vivi admits as they both try to squeeze into tight jeans. But then she’s at this party and Jinsol feels like someone just electrocuted her. A young girl that Jinsol wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at before, has suddenly grown into a woman with a strong aura that seems to melt away under soft florescent lights when she laughs. Jinsol watches Jungeun, in perfect clarity and mesmerized as her once blonde locks are now freshly dyed the right shade of pink and sway with her as she moves.
Their eyes meet across the room and Jinsol feels a tug from behind her ribs, tempting her to take a step forward towards Jungeun. The rest of the party seems to fade away in that moment, something that would’ve been insignificant now turned intimate. It throws Jinsol for a loop, her whole world tilted suddenly when she watches as Jungeun actually takes a step toward her.
“What do you think, Unnie?” Jungeun asks her soft, meek, yet eager. Her fingers come up to tuck a blush-colored strand behind her ear, but the pink in her hair is nothing in comparison to the pink that coats her cheeks, and Jinsol’s heart reels. Her body freezes at the sudden change of appearance and hums delightfully, pleased with the beauty before her. Her own lips parted in surprise.
Jungeun was beautiful, pale, and serene. Her slightly wavy tumbled over her shoulders like rays of sunshine in spring. Her eyebrows were dark and smooth, and her mouth was painted scarlet. She was achingly beautiful. In Jinsol’s heart, Jungeun stirred apprehension. A fear akin to a malicious delight. She's the type of woman who looks sexy even when she’s being cute and Jinsol can't help but be drawn to her. Out of all the faces she’d encounter in this lifetime — somehow, Jungeun is different. She's a rarity that only comes around once in a blue moon. and here she is, holding her breath. In the confines of a mystery, she is the reason Jinsol surrenders her heart.
There’s a lot she wants to say — but a simple; “it suits you,” is all she manages to choke out.
(And that’s all it really takes for Jinsol to finally see Jungeun and to start thinking about the color pink once more.)
Jungeun only manages to beam a smile her way before Haseul and Hyeju whisk her away. Unbeknownst to her, Jinsol spends the rest of the night wholeheartedly enchanted and breathless, her eyes never managing to stray far from Jungeun’s lithe figure. And between the aching in her cheeks and heart, to the air that somehow escapes her lungs, or the flush that paints her cheeks — Jinsol feels something bloom open in her chest, like flowers in the springtime.
It’s only after Jungeun has blown out her candles does Jinsol manage to speak to Jungeun again. Albeit not fully alone, the party has died down and only their close friends surround them, caught in their own conversations. Jungeun is laughing at some terrible joke Jinsol just made, but her head tips back as she laughs with her whole body. The kitchen lights envelope her in a subtle glow — but maybe, it’s the sudden lovestruck lenses over her own eyes.
Jinsol blinks, wondering if the alcohol is suddenly hitting her harder than she initially thought it would — but the steady, comfortable, and echoing beating in her chest tells her otherwise.
Jungeun pushes on her shoulder, still laughing, but it’s enough to tip her over. Jungeun shrieks loudly enough to garner the attention of their friends, Hyeju and Heejin as Jinsol tips to her far left. Jungeun, somewhere in the midst of it, had stepped closer and her hand flew to Jinsol’s biceps, holding on tightly. They both end up laughing out of embarrassment as pink spreads across their cheeks when Jinsol finally regains her balance. Jungeun’s fingertips gliding down her arm as she lets go of the ravenhead, but Jinsol is quick enough to let her own hand graze Jungeun’s. Their eyes meet and Jinsol is grinning because for once tonight, Jungeun is the one left breathless. Her parted lips twitch into a shy smile as she clambers away from Jinsol’s embrace.
And if Jinsol’s heartbeat was steady before, it surely wasn’t now. With Jungeun being so close, looking as endearing as she did, Jinsol could feel her heart beat out of its cage. And Jinsol hopes Jungeun doesn’t notice the way her eyes flicker down to her lips. But she does. But of course, Hyeju is gagging dramatically, only stopping when Heejin slaps her arm in an attempt to get her to stop. It pulls Jungeun’s gaze away from Jinsol and all she can think is that; Jungeun wasn’t born with pink hair and Jinsol didn't have a flower bud, but she might prefer this over anything else.
After several interactions like so, it comes as a surprise to nobody when Jungeun musters up the courage to ask her out. But over a cup of coffee in the middle of the week, Jinsol is the only one surprised at the knowledge of Jungeun’s rather large crush on her.
(“No, I’m serious! I had the biggest crush on you when we first met…” Jungeun grins through her embarrassment at her.
“I still find that hard to believe,” she teases back. And it’s much more obvious in that moment to Jinsol how right it feels to be beside Jungeun and she wonders when she’ll be able to stop pretending like she isn’t already completely smitten as well.)
And then the inevitable comes. Jungeun asks her about her soul mark one night, picking at the plate of pasta Jinsol had learned to make for her. The question catches her off guard, of course. Jungeun, in the whole time they had been friends and dating, never asked about Jinsol’s markings — or the lack thereof.
“My soulmark?” Jungeun hums, drops her fork and perches her chin up onto her hands.
They stare at each other — Jungeun’s eyes full of childlike curiosity and hope, whereas Jinsol’s are devoid of any sort of emotion. And maybe it's societal conditioning or whatever, but Jinsol feels a rush of anxiety suddenly, choking her from the inside out.
Here at a crossroads, Jinsol’s hand reflexively reaches to the back of her neck, lightly tugging on the baby-hairs there. Jungeun’s eyes follow her movement.
Telling Jungeun about Jinsol’s strange ‘condition’ is equally as hard as it is easy. But Jungeun is everything Jinsol had hoped for and more. Perfectly attentive, affectionate, and wholesome. And her walls, as if they were made of paper, start to crumble.
By the end of it, Jungeun’s fingers are tentatively reaching for her own and Jinsol thinks that Jungeun might love her with the way she’s looking at her now. Suddenly, Jungeun’s leaning closer and whispering through a shy smile. “If it’s okay… I have been waiting at least a year to kiss you.”
Jinsol nods, licks her lips unconsciously and Jungeun’s eyes follow the movement. Their lips hover inches from each other before brushing against each other. But then Jungeun is pulling back, biting her lip with a silly grin that kind of makes Jinsol want to yank her into a kiss until they’re both breathless and gasping for air.
But it’s much more romantic than Jinsol intends, her hand delicate in Jungeun’s hair as she tugs her closer. And their lips meet softly drawing out a long sigh from the rose-colored hair girl, as if she truly had been waiting a year for Jinsol. Now, Jinsol feels that maybe she could fly like this. Straight out of a cartoon, she might sprout wings on her back and red hearts will bubble out of thin air. But maybe it’s just the dizzying want that Jinsol has nurtured for Jungeun in the amount of time they’ve been together.
Jungeun kisses her again goodnight at the door when they are saying their goodbyes and Jinsol knows that it’s not only desire — but a deep sense of longing for a genuine connection with a special girl. And when they part, Jungeun wears a bright smile on her lips, Jinsol feels her lips naturally turn up too. Her heart, a lot lighter than it had ever been before.
To say that Jinsol thinks Jungeun is the one is an understatement. Three years and still going of being happily in love is enough proof for Jinsol. Especially now as Jungeun is sat on the couch, their friends had just left after helping them settle the bigger pieces of furniture into their new apartment. In her hands, she flips through an old photo book of Jinsol’s with an awestruck twinkle in her eyes and a curious grin on her lips.
And Jinsol’s heart lurches in its cage, beating abnormally fast. To watch Jungeun gaze at an old piece of herself with that much love in her eye is more intimate than Jinsol believes the intimacy of looking into a person’s eyes can be. But now, as Jungeun is looking at something else — distracted, Jinsol deliberately lingers a moment, allowing her to soak up the sight before her. She’s glad Jungeun doesn’t look up, too lost in the photos, it would be too much for Jinsol to make any sort of eye contact now. The sunlight is fleeting in their shared apartment and the leftover specks of sun that shine from their flooring glow in a magical way, encasing them in a delicate intimacy.
This is her home, Jinsol thought to herself.
Jinsol eventually joins Jungeun on the couch, tugging her to her side, with her arm draped over Jungeun’s shoulders. Jungeun settles in comfortably, smiling up at her before returning to the photobook. And Jinsol admires her girlfriend, twirling a lock of pink hair between her fingers.
“Hey,” Jinsol whispers.
Jungeun hums.
“I love you.”
“Shut up.” Jungeun grins, elbowing her.
“I’m serious.” Still, Jungeun only hums but doesn’t make a move to look up at her. Jungeun has always been shy, but today Jinsol is persistent. The love is overflowing and Jinsol doesn’t want to choke on it any longer.
“Jungeun,” Jinsol probes, her finger guiding Jungeun by her jaw to look at her. “I think you’re my soulmate.”
And there’s a wave of emotions that flicker through Jungeun’s eyes. Jinsol knows it all, they’ve talked about it before. The sadness that lingers underneath love is a reminder of their cursed fates. A girl with a withered bud, a dead soulmate. And the other without any sort of marking, the only testament of a soulmate for her fleeting through her dreams.
“Don’t say that.” Jungeun whispers back to her.
“I mean it. I’ve never loved like before as I do with you.”
“Jinsol.” Jungeun pushes away from her, a heart-aching frown plastered across her lips.
“Just hear me out, Jungeun.” Jungeun looks hesitant but says nothing, so Jinsol continues. “I know we aren’t fated, meant for each other — or whatever. But I love you. Despite it all, I love you.”
Jungeun is pulling away again, her heart not strong enough to hear all this. It’s all a painful reminder of Jinsol’s possible soulmate and how stupid she might be just because she dares to hope that she’s the one meant for Jinsol.
But Jinsol is pulling Jungeun back in, fingers grasping at her hesitant hands, and they struggle against each other for a moment. The two aching inside for completely different reasons; Blue drowns in love, but pink drowns in sadness.
“Your brown hair and uneven smiles. I love your laugh and your sigh and the way you sing along with the music. It's all lovable, Jungie.” But the sadness in Jungeun’s eyes, no matter how sweet Jinsol is, is inescapable. “It feels so good to love you.” Jinsol tugs at Jungeun so they’re face to face and her thumbs come up to brush away at the tears that pour out of her eyes. Jinsol knows. She could say anything — give anything, and Jungeun still wouldn’t believe her, but she still tries. “And maybe if — if it feels good to love you, then — then it’s not wrong.”
Jinsol wets her lips, her tongue gliding across her lower lip nervously. “Maybe —maybe you’re my soulmate.”
The silence is loud.
Heavy.
Deafening even.
But Jinsol knows. She knows Jungeun had gotten used to loving her like this, always having her close enough to touch and love, but soulmates have their own universal law in the world and their relationship.
So, she settles for pressing her forehead to Jungeun’s. Her hands coming to the sides of her face as her heart keeps missing beats and her hands can’t bring her any closer. Their lips meet and Jinsol pushes into Jungeun, hungry because she had loved before, but it never felt like this. Jinsol is angry, she has kissed before, but it never burns her alive the way it does now. With Jungeun’s lips against her, tears falling from her eyes, Jinsol is angry at the world once more.
She is happy.
She loves Jungeun.
Jungeun is her soulmate.
What more did the world want from her?