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“And there goes our order.”
Jeongguk watches, mildly offended, a batch of fluffy dim sum float past them and onto the neighbouring table. Apparently people next to them ordered the same thing they did, or his girlfriend did. He is more of a spicy noodle kind of guy.
Jimin, his girlfriend, looks up from her phone, sending a brief glance at the steaming dumplings - there is some wistfulness in it, but overall she looks unperturbed.
“They probably ordered first, anyway.”
“No, they didn’t.”
Jeongguk would know - he's been watching that couple for a while now. Not because he is deeply invested in the business of spying on strangers. It's his girlfriend’s fault, really. What else is he supposed to do with her glued to her damn phone all the goddamn time?
Probably whip out his own smartphone and check his Instagram for updates, only the battery on his phone is dry as a desert right now. Forgetting to charge his phone the night before is how he rolls, apparently.
At least, he is not alone in this sentiment because that dude, sitting diagonally from him, is under the same treatment from his own boyfriend or friend or whomever. They’ve exchanged a couple of glances, establishing a sort of sympathetic connection between them.
(You and me, we’re in this together, buddy. The victims of the evil handphone conspiracy that kills romance - has killed romance.)
Maybe they should swap tables and proceed from there. Wouldn't that be funny? Jeongguk chuckles to himself. His girlfriend wouldn't even notice, would she? Would go on through her life, none the wiser, with some random dude instead of Jeongguk warming her bed. That's modern love for you.
Finally their orders arrive, the waiter bending down like a willow in million apologies.
“Told you, didn’t I?”
Jimin shrugs, fetching chopsticks and digging in, her thumb working double time to scroll through her endless feeds of cats and asian top models.
Jeongguk sighs. It's hard to feel smug when there is no one to pay attention to him being smug. Except for that guy, diagonally from him, who snickers into his sleeve, having caught the fall of Jeongguk's face, his expression amplified into a derpy grimace, because he likes being extra like that.
(At least someone seems to be appreciative of his efforts.)
Their (very romantic) outing together is spent like this, Jeongguk sighing and humming and hawing, pulling up every single ridiculous expression from his ample repertoire - he wanted to be a mime as a child, okay - and now it’s his chance to shine in front of a stranger because his own girlfriend doesn't give a damn.
(Can they swap tables already, really.)
When it's time to pay the bill, Jimin leaves to use the bathroom, her movements almost synchronized with those of the giggling dim sum stranger who is following suit. Hopefully they are going to use different bathrooms, all that unisex movement hasn’t caught up yet with their town, but -
(The guy sure has a cute butt on him.)
Jeongguk doesn't know where this thought spawned from. Definitely not from the recesses of his (mostly) straight mind. Unless one considers that one lapse of judgement back in college - but the dude was hot - and don't they say sexuality is a spectrum, anyway. He knows his sciences. And his excuses.
Deep down, Jeongguk is not a picky guy. He’d settle for anyone who promised to laugh at his jokes forever. Simple as that. And as things stand now, it's been a while since Jimin laughed at anything he said or did. It's disheartening, really. Makes him doubt his own funniness, or something.
Ten minutes later - seriously, women take forever to pee - Jimin trots back to their table.
No.
Past their table, plonking down on the seat, easy as you please, as if she fully belonged there. Jeongguk's jaw falls open, eh… excuse me?
“I’m ready to go, if you are.”
A soft melodic - definitely male - voice brings him back to the matters of his own table.
The dim sum guy (with cute butt) is looking at him expectantly. Jeongguk gulps, pulling at his collar, suddenly constricting his neck like a noose.
(What the hell happened in that bathroom.)
“Jimin-ah?” He calls tentatively after his girlfriend, feeling as lost as a kid at an amusement park. Are they playing a trick on him? Do they know each other? Is it a reality show? Any hidden cameras around?
“Yes?”
Jeongguk snaps back to the guy. No fucking way.
“Your name is Jimin, too?” He mutters more to himself than to anyone else. Two Jimins and one very baffled Jeon Jeongguk.
While he's doing the math in his head, Jimin, his girlfriend, takes no time to head out through the door with chime bells. No sneaky glances over her shoulder, no furtive signals. A few moments pass and she doesn't return either.
His own girlfriend just walked out on him. With some random dude, no less.
“She just left like that,” Jeongguk utters in disbelief, eyes flickering back to Jimin who regards him back with a mild concern on his face.
“What,” Jimin cranks his neck to peer after the couple. “They haven't paid or something?”
Or something.
---
Now, there is no doubt in Jeongguk's mind that it's all a prank. Some kind of exuberant prank that is supposed to blow Jeongguk’s socks off with the sheer magnitude of the whole shebang. And it's not even his birthday today. Color him flabbergasted.
He's so going to enjoy himself at this game.
Jimin remains perfectly oblivious to a poorly concealed skip his step acquires as they are walking back to their apartment (his and his girlfriend's apartment, mind you). As he should be - he's got a role to play, after all.
There is not a single moment when Jimin looks unsure as to where to go, his gait unfaltering as he takes a shortcut through a narrow backstreet - one might think he's done this a million times before.
Damn, he's good. A professional actor, maybe? Can they even afford an actor? Jeongguk doubts they can. But who cares. Go big or go home, that's his motto, alright.
Jimin even slips a hand into his own, its compact size dwarfed by Jeongguk's large paw. Fits so nice in his, too. And Jeongguk might as well play along. It's not gay if the guy is cute, right?
Right.
There is obviously a surprise waiting for him in their apartment, Jimin, his girlfriend, leaving early to prepare a cake and tinsel and stuff. Whatever the occasion may be. Maybe she got a lead role in one of her musicales?
A strange way to celebrate, but hey, Jeongguk can do strange. Oh boy, he can do strange into the sunset. Strange is his middle name. Yes, sir.
He can barely temper his excitement, scaling the stairs at lightning speed as Jimin struggles to keep up with him, their hands still connected and all.
“Can you slow down for a second?” Jimin heaves, out of breath, as Jeongguk conquers the last step, itching to burst into his apartment and know what it’s all about.
“What are you doing?” He hears Jimin ask, bewildered, as Jeongguk pushes the doorbell, a shrill sound registering on the other end.
No one answers, which makes Jeongguk frown, even more so after Jimin nudges him aside, fitting the key into the lock. It opens with a light snick -
Did Jimin give him, another Jimin, the key to their apartment? Kind of risky, if one asks Jeongguk, but whatever it takes to make things believable.
Jimin steps inside and Jeongguk follows after him, his puppy excitement diminished a notch.
The apartment greets them with acute silence. Almost as if -
They are the only people here.
Jeongguk makes sure to explore, which takes him literally two seconds - it’s a small apartment, but cozy, with succulents littering the many DIY shelves and constellations of fairy lights along the walls. Jimin, his girlfriend, has been into everything hygge lately, but more importantly…
There is no cake. Or confetti. Or even his girlfriend, for that matter.
Jeongguk turns to Jimin, expecting some explanations, and it's almost funny how Jimin just kicks off his shoes and casually sprawls on the couch like he owns it. The way his girlfriend would do, needing a few moments of being perfectly horizontal, eyes never leaving her phone, of course. Some days she’d ask him for foot rubs and Jeongguk would pretend he’s tired or busy, because they may be dating, but he’s not her fucking servant - and this is not how one asks for foot rubs, anyway.
“So,” Jeongguk says, contemplating Jimin’s form on their couch. “There is no surprise, huh?”
Jimin hums, curling onto his side, palms folded under his cheek - cute.
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind,” Jeongguk mutters under his breath, gaze set on their bedroom. Maybe he needs to do something, figure it out and call them out on their bullshit. He can play their game, fine. Then, it dawns on him.
Their apartment is still their apartment. All Jimin’s things are here. They’ve been gone for a couple of hours, tops. There is no way they could have gotten rid of her things, like, who would even go as far?
Mentally patting himself on the back, he struts into the bedroom. Their dresser, the second drawer with her -
His underwear. Plain male underwear, no panties, not even a single bra hiding in the deep. He checks other drawers too, frantically rummaging through a bunch of undies like a madman.
The wardrobe is no better. Her side is his now. These are not Jeongguk’s clothes, he’d never own a pink shirt, okay. Or denim overalls - cute, though.
Somewhere in the midst of almost tearing at the pink shirt with his teeth, it occurs to him that gradually things stop being funny anymore. A prank only goes so far, but this -
(What the fuck is this?)
There is not a trace of his girlfriend anywhere. It’s him, him, him.
“Are you okay?”
Him, peeking through the open door, eyes taking in the havoc Jeongguk’s wrecked here with his own hands that start shaking maniacally. He feels weird. Is he dreaming?
“Where is my phone?” Jeongguk almost howls. They couldn’t have gotten to his phone now, could they? There are pictures saved, a million of selfies they took together.
“On the stand by the couch,” Jimin says, watching Jeongguk brush past him. Indeed, he finds the phone just where he'd dropped it hours ago, pushing the power button, a tremble surging through his fingers - it’s out of charge, fuck!
The next ten minutes are punctuated by breathy curses as Jeongguk is running around looking for a charger - that thing never stays where he'd left it.
“Are you looking for this?” Jimin holds out his hand, the charger resting on his palm.
“Thanks.”
A few seconds carry on in an awkward silence, diffused only by the happy chiptune of his smartphone loading up. Jeongguk can feel Jimin’s watching him from his cozy spot on the couch.
It’s almost like, Jeongguk is the weird one here, freaking his boyfriend out with his loony antics.
Once his phone is all booted up - thank fuck - he opens up the folder with the photos, his breath caught up in his throat - it’s now or never, baby. He’ll show them who is cray cray here.
“What the fuck!”
He cries out dropping his phone like he’s been burnt. His hands bury into his hair, tugging at the strands, until Jimin pries them open, placing them around his waist instead - Jeongguk grapples onto him like a lifeline. Instincts, nothing more.
“It’s okay, baby, deep breaths,” Jimin shushes him, rubbing circles on his back. Circles are great. Jeongguk loves circles. Circles are simple, not like, this bullshit.
Jimin makes them both sit on the couch, also picking his phone up and placing it back on the stand, in Jeongguk's perfect view, so there is no mistaking it - this is, indeed, a photo of him and Jimin on the screen, not his Jimin, but this Jimin, Jeongguk’s arm thrown over his shoulder like it belongs there. They look happy. And so boyfriends.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” Jimin prods tentatively, his breath fanning Jeongguk’s cheek warmly. As much as he’s about to flip like a pancake, this closeness is not exactly unpleasant. If anything, it has a calming effect on him, enough to open his mouth and produce some words. They may sound random, but they make perfect sense in his head.
“Can I see your nipples?”
Jimin’s circle rubbing hand stops, retracting back into its owner’s space.
“Are you fucking with me?” Jimin may look soft, but he sure can throw a punch when he wants to. “Don’t scare me like that ever again, you fucking jerk.”
“I’m dead serious here, you know,” Jeongguk whines, rubbing at his aching pectorals. Who even punches people in a boob? Jimin, his b o y f r i e n d, does, apparently. “I need to see them really quick.”
“Haven’t you seen them enough?” Jimin asks. “If you want to have sex, you can just say so, like a normal person.”
“What? No!” Jeongguk splutters. What the fuck. Yeah, it sounds kinda incriminating, but. Can’t a guy have a legitimate reason to request to see someone’s nipples without people jumping to conclusions? Jesus.
Jeongguk sighs dramatically.
“I need a moment.”
---
He spends his moment staring at the wall mirror in the bathroom, opening and closing the hidden closet with the toiletries and such. Jimin's products are gone, but Jimin's are here. This statement makes perfect sense in his head now.
Is he inside the matrix or something? And it just glitched and left him with a boyfriend for a girlfriend. And for what purpose? Would he be better off with him? Is someone out there looking out for him? Does God exist? Does shit like that happen to other people?
Should he google it? Or play twenty questions with Jimin?
Jeongguk peeks from behind the bathroom door as if not expecting Jimin to still be there once his meltdown is over.
“We should talk.”
Jimin is looking at him expectantly, worrying his lip between his teeth. One of his front teeth is chipped and it makes him even cuter.
“I mean,” Jeongguk takes a seat next to him on the couch. “It’s okay if you don't want to show me your nipples. But can you tell me if they are pierced, at least?”
Jimin looks like he wants to punch him again, like, deck him out good. He doesn't do it, though. His face falls as he says quietly,
“Have I done something wrong? I don't understand why you are saying these things.”
And this sad puppy look does things to Jeongguk's conscience. He is not, like, an asshole. He has feelings, too. And there is something about Jimin's sadness that pulls at his strings in the most breaking way. If Jimin cries, he’ll probably hate himself forever. Maybe he should give this nipple thing a rest, for now. Given everything else, it's not even that important.
“Okay, like...okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Remember how we met?”
“Yes?” Jimin furrows his eyebrows, taken aback by a change of topic.
“My friend invited me for one of your practices and you were, like, a back-up dancer, barely even there for the whole thing, but...”
“You couldn't take your eyes off me and followed me to the backstage, tripping over your feet and landing face smack onto my crotch, yes, I do remember that pain. And the secondhand embarrassment.”
“How is this even possible?” He says. “How can you know these things? Did she tell you?”
Jimin’s little smile, full of fondness at the recollection, fades away as he stands up and makes for the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
(Fuck.)
Jeongguk lets out a groan, bending down to bury his face between his knees. This is going just swimmingly. Chances are, he is going to take the couch tonight. At his own apartment. Well, technically it's his girlfriend’s name on the contract, but he doesn't doubt for a second that Jimin now owns it by proxy. All that were hers is his now, Jimin’s.
Was she even real? Was it him all along? Him and Jeongguk. Because someone is clearly crazy here, might as well be him. How real is real anyway? Should he go and apologize? He probably should.
He eyes the bedroom door unsurely before sneaking his way towards it, opening the door just a crack. Jimin's curled on top of the bedspread, he finds, back turned to him. It's all too quiet until a muffled sob reaches his ears.
It breaks his heart a little.
A lot.
(A lot.)
“Jimin-ah, are you crying?”
“No. Why would I? It's not like my boyfriend has been acting weird and spouting nonsense for the last hour or so.”
Jimin lifts himself up, quickly wiping at his eyes. There is redness under his eyes. And at the tip of his nose, too. Jeongguk just wants to comfort him.
“Are you saying you don’t recognize me? Is that it?”
“I’m sorry,” is all Jeongguk can mumble out, standing there dumbly, as Jimin's eyes well up with tears again.
“God, if this is some kind of stupid joke, I’m so breaking up with you, asshole.”
“Listen, no. Can you imagine for a second how I feel? What if I am going mad? Like, really cuckoo. Please, please, stop crying, I need you here, okay?”
“Swear you are not pranking me.”
“I swear.”
Jimin nods and scoots over, letting Jeongguk make himself cozy on the bed.
“Tell me everything you remember.”
---
“Wow,” Jimin says. “I mean… Wow.”
“Do you really believe me, then?”
“I do. This is so stupid. Even for you.”
Jeongguk gasps in mock hurt. Now that he took it off his chest, he feels so much better, really, easing back into his usual half-sarcastic mood.
He turns his head to look at Jimin. Somehow they've ended up lying next to each other, their poses mirrored, like two beautiful befuddled logs.
“You can take the couch. For tonight,” Jimin says.
“Why do I have to sleep on the couch? I’m obviously the victim here, in need of some comfort that only my hygge bed can provide.”
Jimin props himself up on his elbow, hovering over Jeongguk.
“I’m just being considerate here. I don't have a problem with sharing the bed with you.”
“Well, me neither.”
“Are you sure? Are you even gay now?”
“Sexuality is a freaking spectrum, okay. I’ll be fine,” Jeongguk says. “Actually, I think we should kiss. Like, with tongue. It might help me remember things.”
“Is there any logic to your madness?” Jimin looks pleased despite his words. His cheeks are getting pink, too. He is cute.
“You’re really cute, you know?”
“Wow, ah, okay. I’m glad you still think so?”
“I thought that even back at the restaurant, but didn't think it’d be appropriate to speak on that.”
“And now is more appropriate?”
“I told you I want to kiss you, didn’t I?”
“No-no, you said that it might hel-”
Jeongguk drags him down for a kiss, fingers curled behind Jimin's neck. The kiss is quick and sweet, filling his body with pleasant warmth.
“It’s so easy, you know? Kissing you. Like, I don't feel pressed to do it. I just want to.”
“Uh-huh.”
Jimin's eyes are set on his lips, gaze hazy and mind elsewhere. Jeongguk pecks him quick and chaste, grinning when Jimin snaps out of his haze.
“You want to..?” Jeongguk bubbles out.
Jimin struggles out of his sweater before he even has a chance to finish. His pants follow next. He's naked in a matter of seconds, clinging to Jeongguk like second skin - kissing down his angular before dipping to tease at the hollow between his clavicles with his kitten tongue.
Even naked and all fired-up, Jimin is fucking cute. But also, a disaster about to happen.
Jeongguk pinches one of his nipples, playing with a metal nub between his fingers.
“So your nipples are pierced.”
“You mention them one more time and I-”
Jimin doesn't finish, his whining swallowed by another kiss. Jeongguk could keep kissing him forever. It's a funny feeling. Usually when someone says it, they don't mean it literally, but Jeongguk kinda does. He could give up breathing for it. Jimin’s lips shouldn't go unkissed for a single moment, he decides.
It's like he hasn't kissed him in forever.
A whole lifetime.
---
The sound of the alarm clock hammers down his ear channels, kicking his brain awake. Didn't he smash that thing once? He can do it again. No regrets.
The sound stops.
As the warmth around him shifts, Jeongguk holds onto it tighter, a few growls slipping past his lips, not unlike a dog when someone is trying to steal their favourite bone.
“Let me go. I need to pee.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Guk-ah!”
“Fine, you go, traitor,” Jeongguk grumbles, untangling his limbs and rolling onto his back. He manages to open his eyes just in time to see Jimin's cute bum disappear in the bathroom. When he returns, Jeongguk thinks that maybe it isn't that bad that Jimin had to go, because now he can feast his eyes on all of his boyfriend’s naked glory until they have to wake up proper and be responsible clothes-wearing adults again.
“I had the weirdest dream last night,” he says as Jimin crawls back into his arms, snuggling cozily. “Like, I was at the restaurant with my girlfriend and you were there too and suddenly you two swapped places and I was freaking out so much, like… Weird.”
“It wasn’t a dream, you ass,” Jimin mumbles, puffs of breath warming his skin.
“It wasn’t?” Jeongguk repeats sluggishly, trying to wrap his brains around this whole thing. Was he high yesterday? High off of MSG in his noodles? Well, that's the last time they go to that place, then.
“Are we good now, though?” Jimin tilts his head up, a worried crease sneaking between his eyebrows. “You worked it out of your system? Whatever it was.”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk says. “I’m really sorry, baby. I have no idea what came over me.”
He smoothens the crease out with his fingers. No boyfriend of his is going to have early wrinkles because of his absurdity.
“I’m going to make it up to you, I promise.”
A shy smile touches the corners of Jimin’s lips. He is gorgeous like this, his eye-smile and puffy lips and soft pillowy cheeks. He loves this man so much, sometimes he doesn't know what to do with himself. To think that anyone else would be good for him is preposterous.
“You better.”
---
(The epilogue, kinda.)
CUPID Corp, the 1809th floor.
“Do you think we should have fixed Jimin’s memories?”
“It’s fine. He’ll think it’s Jeongguk being a derp again. He likes it about him, anyway.”
“If you say so.”
Yoongi spins a pen between his fingers. You know he's royally pissed when he is in one of his spinny moods. Hoseok undoes the top button on his shirt, getting ready for the tirade that is coming his way.
“You’d think it’s a common knowledge that you don’t fuck with soulmates. You just let them be. And everything is good. Everyone is minding their own business. They meet, fall sickeningly in love, start a puppy shelter and grow tulips behind their perfect picket fences, they die and the circle begins anew. But no, there is always this know-it-all who just needs to fuck with soulmates, matching them with someone else. Until the day they meet and all goes to shits. And for what? Just to prove, over and over again, that soulmates are not to be fucked with? Get the memo already, assholes.”
“Yeah, what you said, hyung,” Hoseok adds sympathetically, fingers tracing over the script in his hand - calligraphic letters in rose gold - so, so pretty it hurts to look at. Fate scripts for soulmates always write themselves, their lives unfurling right in front of one’s eyes as if written by an invisible hand. That's why they are so special. That's why here at CUPID Corp. they are left alone, if occasionally consulted for reference in order not to match them with someone else by mistake.
Rewriting or editing them is simply impossible. Destructive even, to their own work. Soulmates are going to meet and fall in love regardless of what boundaries are set between them, in every lifetime. Many have tried to screw with it in the past. All of them have failed.
Hoseok would know.
“They are cute, hyung,” he says, putting away the script for now, until further notice. “Aren’t they cute?”
Yoongi shrugs, grumbling something under his breath.
“What was that?”
Hoseok walks to stand behind Yoongi's office chair, hands digging into his shoulders - there is a lot of tension there. His hyung had to work late hours yesterday to fix the mess with Jeongguk's memories. He was not supposed to remember the swap, but it's how it goes sometimes. Someone spills their banana milk onto the servers at MemoDep, creating a lag - people freaking out everywhere and having to binge on coffee, as a result.
“I said, not as cute as we are,” Yoongi grunts out, letting out a happy sigh as Hoseok massages out a particular nasty knot in his neck.
“You wanna go to the bar downstairs after work? I remember you promised me a drink.”
“And I remember you promised me a blowjob. I could use one right now. Just saying.”
“Hyung!”