Chapter Text
They say that a red string connects two people, two people who were destined to meet and be together. The strings were tied around the littlest finger, wrapped around ankles, twined around wrists, connected to hearts. And no matter how long of a distance the strings stretched, how many times they twirled and knotted, they would never break, and would always bring those people together. No one could see them, but they were always there.
They say that bells would chime during the meeting of the soulmate, a gentle ring to sound at the beginning of a relationship that would last a lifetime.
Jeongguk didn't believe any of it.
He had grown up collecting these stories, absorbing different points of view, different retellings, but all were the same thing: that two people were born to be perfect for each other, the other half of their soul, and they would come together and form a relationship that transcended life.
But with all the relationships Jeongguk had seen fall apart, the ideology was hard to believe.
The elders said that the string could never be cut, not even by a greater entity. That that was just an excuse people had conjured to love whoever they wished; if their string was broken, they could choose who they could love, soulmate or not, and be free from the karma. But those relationships resulted in failure anyway, leaving them wandering for someone else, only for the same thing to happen again if they weren't their soulmate.
Because fate? Fate was never wrong. Never go against fate, or it will go against you.
Jeongguk had asked how someone could know if a person was their soulmate or not. The elders all said the same thing: you just know.
Falling in love was a gamble in life, he concluded.
A gamble because, in the end, most people think they have found their soulmate, only for it to be completely false. The belief was, without the red string, a relationship could not hold, could not be the one. And their true soulmate was still out there, out of reach, until fate decided to bring them together.
Living only to fate's hands was, in Jeongguk's opinion, bullshit.
A failed relationship, one that by far could not be rebuilt, could not be one connected by the red string of fate. The string went beyond lust and love; it was trust, it was comfort, it was empathy at a level that was above anything else. Only one person could fulfill these requirements for another; that was what made them soulmates. It was why the red string lasted for a lifetime.
It didn't make sense to Jeongguk. Yes, he would agree with upturned lips that his parents were the embodiment of the red string, a relationship going on for decades but still filled with smiles and caring words, even after painful altercations. But seeing relationships burn to the ground, some of which had lasted for years, of which had seemed to have had what it took to embody fate's choice…
He couldn't believe that the string would always bring people together, that one day, he, too, would hear the chime of the bells. Why did some people die before meeting their true one? Why did people fall in love with someone they thought was their soulmate, only for their heart to break when their relationship crumbled? Was he only to wait and live his life, and then his soulmate would magically appear without him having to search?
Would fate really give him what he wished for, when people recklessly threw themselves into love, searching for comfort and relief? Asking him out, offering things he, deep down in his chest, wanted?
How would he know if one of the thousands of people he passed by each day was his one? Would he be able to differentiate between his soulmate and not? Would the bells really chime? Would it be a coincidence, and everything be for naught?
He had relayed these questions to all sorts of people as he grew up. The elders all told him to wait. His generation told him to try.
Jeongguk stood somewhere in between, a part of him yearning for someone more, another begging people of interest to stay away.
Despite his doubts, Jeongguk always downturned the girls and boys alike who asked him out. Even his hyungs raised eyebrows at him when the refusals piled up; when they asked why, Jeongguk had only shrugged. He wasn't sure if the views had cemented in his heart to the point that he wouldn't even try, or if he just genuinely didn't want to date the people who had asked him. Perhaps he was scared to try, scared to get attached, scared to love. Perhaps he was scared that, in the end, the relationship would fail.
Falling in love was a risk he didn't want to take. Even if the beliefs weren't true… to fall in love only to be destined to break because they weren't on the other end of the string… Jeongguk felt stuck.
Stuck in the midst of doubts and longing, in a world he didn't know a thing about.
— ˗ˋˏ°• 🔔 •°ˎˊ˗ —
The rain pattered down around him, the muffled sounds of the drops falling against his umbrella echoing in his ears. It felt like any other day, waiting for the green light that allowed pedestrians to cross the street. His foot tapped rhythmically on the ground, the people around him quiet as they shuffled and talked in murmurs against the rain.
His fingers gripped the umbrella's handle tighter. He loved the sound of the rain, the smell in the air that came with it, the cool breeze streaked with wetness that lulled him instead of giving him discomfort. But all he really wanted to do right then was get home.
It felt like any other day.
Any other day, until just as a bus started to roll by, a streak of lightning slashed through the dark sky, lighting the world in a flash of bright white. And time—
time
sl o we d
d
o
w
n
.
Silence. It was dead silent as the cars seemed to move at a snail's pace, the people's shuffles becoming more prolonged, drawn out into multiple seconds. Jeongguk couldn't hear a thing, like he was sucked into a void of nothing, the sound of the rain and the engines of cars lost to the null. Eyes still seeing, deaf to all.
He was deathly pale as he stared at the now visible red string hanging off his littlest finger on his left hand, shaking at the discovery even as he gripped the umbrella tighter.
His breaths shuddered in his chest at the loss of sound. He could only hear the blood rushing through his ears as his eyes followed the string, watching it float across the street and seemingly go through the metal sides of the bus.
It wasn't until the bus finally drove out of his line of sight did his gaze fall on who was at the end of his string.
The silence was filled with a single chime of bells. A jingle, hovering in the air around him, resounding in his ears. It felt distant and close by all at once, almost as if he were recalling the sounds of a memory if he kept his eyes shut hard enough.
Except his eyes were open now, and they stared at a boy across the street. A boy who had his side to him and his head thrown back, letting rain catch onto his face, as if savoring its cool touch. His white face mask was pulled down past his chin like he didn't want his mouth to be excluded. Both his chocolatey brown hair and his denim jacket were all but drenched, god knowing how long he must have been out in the rain.
And Jeongguk—Jeongguk thought he was beautiful. So, so beautiful.
When his gaze snagged onto the red string—their red string tied around the boy's littlest finger of his right hand, time started again as suddenly as it had slowed, sound coming back to him and making him blink rapidly in surprise. Cars drove quickly again, the sounds of footsteps and murmurs and the rain filling his ears as if they had never left. The red string was no longer there, but the memory of it made his heart pound, conviction filling his chest and making him increasingly impatient for the red pedestrian light to turn green.
And when it finally did, Jeongguk hurried across the street, pulling his black face mask down in order to breathe easier, walking faster than the people around him to get to the boy who still stood there in the rain.
It felt like eons until he reached the other side, immediately heading for the other, his breath coming out in rushed puffs, the air cold but not cold enough for it to be seen. Jeongguk's grip on his umbrella tightened as he approached the oblivious brunette, and once he was an arm's width away, he lifted the umbrella and stepped into his space, letting it shield the other from the rain.
That was when the boy opened his eyes and slowly brought his head back down. Their gazes met; it was like the world slowed down once more as they stood there, so close in order for the canopy to shield them both.
They didn't say anything for a moment, both of them taking each other in. Jeongguk taking in the boy's tanned skin, pillowy lips, the little mole at the tip of his nose. Taehyung taking in the stranger's handsome features, the strong eyebrows and jaw, the curve of his cupid's bow, a bulbous nose that was so cute, the black clothes and leather jacket.
Jeongguk took a deep breath before reaching out with his left hand. The boy looked down to watch him link their pinkies together.
How would someone know if a person was their soulmate or not? The elders’ answers all echoed in his head: you just know.
And Jeongguk knew it couldn't be a coincidence, not when both he and Taehyung finally opened their mouths at the same moment to say, “It's you.”
Perhaps, for this boy, he was willing to try.