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Cold winter is eating Yunho's cheeks at eight in the morning as he waits for San to pick him up. Having to deal with the piercing fingers touching the visible skin of his face and ears, turning him into nothing more but a trembling mix of bones and blood, because his friend won't tell him the exact moment he is going to pull his old car over the corner. Yunho doesn't want to get late to class, or for San to speed up if he doesn't catch him already waiting on the sidewalk, which will end up in being late as well.
As he takes both his hands to his mouth, applying a good amount of hot breath into his iced fingers, his brain decides to go through a lot of varied topics, all of them not tied up by the ends, having nothing to do with the other, yet they end up flowing like the waters of a river after winter: vicious, but easily.
He thinks about how he ignored his mom when she told him to buy an extra pair of gloves just in case he ended up losing the only one he had — thing that happened three weeks into winter, next to some fountain, alongside with his keys; he found the keys, but not the gloves —, how it's way too cold to be almost touching March with their fingertips, how he has a lot of homework piled in one side of his desk — he needs to start getting them done before March ends —, how he has been feeling theatrically lonely lately and how the whole soulmate system always has his body tensed and rigid.
Soulmates.
It's normal to hear about soulmates at any time of the day, being present in everyday lives and lunch conversations as beautiful stories of movie like encounters or, sadly, fingers exploding into colors after walking out of a big crowd, soulmates finding and losing each other in what it takes for the oxygen to reach the heart and move back as carbon dioxide. It happened to Seonghwa, who has been walking around with the tip of his fingers shining in beautiful shades of blue and yellow, turning green at random times, for three years now.
It also happened to his brother, being born with a white mark on the back of his hand, the same place, years later, his fiancee would brush her hand against, pressing a black mark into the white one. Filling with colors after that.
Looking at his hands, Yunho just finds red shaky fingers. All the member of his family — and the big part of the population — wear black (if they are the ones touching) or white (if they receive the touch) marks on their hands. It can be anywhere, fingers, palm, back, wrist.
Yunho got nothing but a big tangle of white hair. Since birth. Matching horribly with his black eyebrows as he grew up.
Even if he has to believe he will find his soulmate eventually, the white hair just makes people scared. Moving away. Making him feel like he is some type of weirdo, not being able to dye it as the color slides over his hair as if it was covered in a slippery substance.
That white ends up making the world around him a little gray.
He looks down at his feet, car parking in front of him. "Do you need a ride, handsome?"
Getting in San's small car is always a bother for Yunho, having to squeeze first and then press both his knees to his chest, but he is grateful he has San saving him from walking twenty minutes under the cold weather. So he smiles and splatters his body the farthest he can from the dashboard, bag also pressed to his chest.
"Cold?" San asks, one hand on the steering wheel as he places the other one on his thigh, softly patting.
"Super," Yunho sighs, moving his head to the backseat where Yeosang seems to have fallen asleep while sitting. "Yeosang's sleeping?"
"No," is the boy the one answering, not daring to open his eyes. "I'm meditating."
Yunho allows him to laugh a little as San is speeding up and turning on loud music. His eyes fix on the road, and the sky parting from there, breaking in some gray clouds to fragment in a bright blue just a little above. But Yunho's eyes decide to not go up the clouds.
San has a white strand of hair falling over his forehead, just as him, but less striking. Every time he looks at him, Yunho gets a little bit of hope invading his lungs. Maybe he is not a weird one, maybe he does have a normal life awaiting for him.
But the thing is, his lungs flood easily and fast, soon waking up to cough. Coming back at the start again.
Yeosang, on the other hand, has the palm of his hand totally white. They all like to think about how their soulmates encounters will be, and for Yeosang, they all agree it will be a high five because the boy is too nice to be slapping someone. That has Yeosang mopping a little because he doesn't want to high five the supposedly love of his life — neither he wants to spend the rest of his life with someone he slapped.
For Yunho and San, they wonder. If it will be fingers threading over their hairs — sounds too intimate to be the first touch —, or just a new hairdresser doing their hair for the first time — that sounds more credible. San does believe his soulmate is out there, waiting for him. For some reason, the thought that he is unloved, that he has no one out there for him, always revolves around Yunho's mind. Without a reason, perhaps buried in a lot of childhood memories.
Bad words, fingers on his skin, scratched knees and teared notebooks. Tears at night, not understanding.
Just because of the absence of color, the absence of a soulmate.
Rain starts falling sometime alongside the morning, head falling into his right hand as some math equations are written on the board. Yunho doesn't remember what class he is now, too focused on the way the sky cries. He gets lost in the way the water drops hit the window and mix, becoming one, disappearing.
It seems to easy.
"This is Mingi," Seonghwa says when lunch arrives and rain stops hitting the windows, wet dirt smell filling his lungs. Next to his friend, there's a tall boy. As tall as Yunho, showing washed red hair, round glasses and a lot of papers under his arm that end up flying around as he moves his hand to wave at them. Seonghwa makes a face, taking one of his hands to his mouth, observing the boy run after his papers. "He is… A little clumsy."
"We can see," San laughs.
Yunho can see it.
Sitting in one of the tables of the cafeteria, being the only brave ones to sit down outside, he follows the movements of the boy as he tries to pick every paper before it gets ruined with the puddles and wind. He moves awkwardly, tripping with his own feet, striking like a blue camellia in a golden field with that yellow hoodie in a gray day.
It makes Yunho smile a little.
As he makes his way back to the table, red has already flown from his hair to his squishy cheeks. Mingi adjusts his clothes as well as the big amount of now half messed and wrinkled papers. "I'm sorry," he blurts, avoiding looking at them in the eye.
Seonghwa clears his throat next to him, one arm already moving to his shoulders, bringing him closer.
"Mingi is new in town," he explains, boy nodding next to him. "It happens to be that our moms are friends, so I have to show him around. And what's best than you guys?"
"Aw, Hwa," San says loud, gesturing in the air, "you're gonna make me blush."
Seonghwa ignores him, eyes on Mingi before he starts moving his arm in the air, pointing at each one of them. "The sleepy one is Yeosang, studying aerospace engineering. Dumb one is San, I don't remember what he's studying. Mister Winter Prince is Yunho, studying chemistry. If I'm not around, this is the one you should go with," Mingi nods, moving his eyes from Seonghwa to Yunho.
Staring right into his soul.
For a moment, Yunho gets lost there. His brain ignores how San complains and introduces himself with the you're an idiot, Seonghwa already escaping from his lips. Focusing on those eyes. Hitting him with a wave of reminiscence that vanishes as soon as San is hitting him in the shoulder, begging for help, Seonghwa sticking his tongue at him.
Shaking his head, he excuses himself and moves to the bathroom. He bites the inside of his cheek and rubs his own arms, feeling cold and weird. In the mirror, his own eyes are shining in the same color.
A lot of colors.
It lasts a second, way too short for his brain to analyse it, already floating away with the raindrops that start hitting the cafeteria windows again. Yunho blinks, deciding it must be nothing, walking into Yeosang as he exits the bathroom.
They move to the inside, Mingi finally sitting and putting all his belongings over the table. San is sitting in front of Seonghwa — mostly, fighting him —, so Yunho does the best and sits in front of the kid, giving him his best smile even when he feels as gray as the sky above their heads.
"Where are you from?" He breathes, one hand over his cheek. In front of him, Mingi gasps a little, biting his lower lip before answering. Yunho can't help but think how cute he is.
"Incheon," short and sweet.
"Why did you move here?" Mingi scrunches his nose for a second, looking down at the table. "It's okay if it's too personal. What are you studying?" Yunho changes the topic, fingers pointing at the pile of papers spread on the table in front of them.
For a moment, Mingi's face lights up a little, fingers moving across the table to show him the papers. There's hands drawn there. Only hands, and in all positions. Not colored, not even contoured. Almost as if he did those in the middle of a very boring class with an old mechanical pencil.
"I'm, hmm, doing arts. I'm not very good at this, though."
"Can I?" Yunho ask, picking on of the papers to examine it from close when Mingi nods. "You are good," he whispers, eyes following the trace of the pencil. Soft, delicate.
There's more details in the drawings than he thought, wrinkles sparking on the bended fingers, shadows moving over the skin, light illuminating it on other places.
"I like them," he whispers, giving it back to pick another one. "Why hands, though?"
Mingi gives him half a smile, and Yunho doesn't catches how he gazes at his own hands for a second.
"Why not," is his only answer before Yeosang is coming back and asking for food.
Yunho spends a lot of time thinking about why, only reaching something when night falls and he rolls in bed, colors sparkling at the other side of his eyelids. Soulmarks are, normally, kissing the skin of the hands.
☁️
Mingi becomes a regular in their morning hangouts in less than a week, making Yunho's routine a little less gray and cold with his smile and dozen of papers always falling like autumn leaves. For the first week, it become at little silent when they reach the dead end of conversations about degrees and future. Yet, at the end of the second one, San is already throwing his whole body all over his own and Yeosang is asking if he can use his shoulder as a pillow.
From his spot, Yunho realizes how Mingi fidgets every time someone touches him, almost like he is scared, eyes searching for his own hands before breathing out and accepting the touch.
Is then when Yunho starts noticing how he never takes off his gloves. White, thin, perfectly molding to his hands and going up his wrists.
"You're always wearing gloves," he says one day they're left alone on the cafeteria, wind blowing strongly at the other side of the window, barely three persons there counting them and the lady making coffee, smell floating around until it reaches his nostrils and tangles on his hair. The tic tac of the clock, 12:08 PM, making music. "Why?"
With the pass of days, Yunho was able to look through Mingi's sketchbook, and even when he found a lot of things that shook his heart — eyes, always sparkling, side profiles, perfect noses pointing up the sky, a big tree surrounded by falling petals —, there's a lot of hands. Floating alone on the white paper or covering the face of a boy, fingers wrapped around the stem of a rose, thorns making it bleed. Hands filled of black marks.
Mingi looks at him, stopping drawing to look at him with gray eyes.
"Well," he breathes, looking down at his hands engulfed in white. "I don't like my hands."
"Why?" Yunho insists, in a whisper. Waiting.
Mingi bites on the end of the pencil first, dropping it softly then. His eyes flutter a little around the place before he is putting both his hands over the table, fingers shaking a little.
"Your hair," he starts, gaze down, "that's your soulmate mark, right?"
"I don't know," Yunho mutters back after a while, head still resting over one of his hands. "Sometimes I think I don't have a soulmate at all and this is just some kind of curse. People gets scared of me because of my hair."
"Uh huh," Mingi purses his lips in a shy smile, eyes moving a little until they find each other in silence. Slowly, he pulls from one finger, taking off one glove. "I think I understand you."
Slower, Yunho looks down. Mingi's skin is honey soaked, always matching his bright clothes, clashing in a gray world with a vibrant energy. Yet, the skin of his hand, is totally black. Ink dripping over his fingers and engulfing everything, not leaving a single spot blank. Both his palm and back are covered in a soulmark.
"Both hands?" He sucks in a breathe, Mingi putting on the glove again, slightly nodding.
"I don't know what it means," Mingi mumbles, "but I don't like, so I cover it. Your hair, on the other hand, is pretty. I like white."
The wind blows strongly, yet Yunho doesn't feel it. He looks at how Mingi starts moving the pencil over the paper again for minutes, maybe hours, gray starting to fade a little and twist in brighter colors around him.
For the first time in years, he feels warm.
Looking back to his laptop, he works on his practice report until Mingi is tapping him on the arm to show him his drawing. Big smile on his face, eyes disappearing a little when he does it.
On the paper, with no color, just lines, Yunho himself lays. Gaze lost on the other side of the window, a little blush on his cheeks, white hair.
Looking more beautiful than ever.
☁️
"You and Mingi," Seonghwa catches him outside the library one Friday. Yunho squints at him, because it's way too early and he doesn't need to be interrogated, he just wants his hazelnut coffee. "Became great friends, right?"
Yunho shrugs.
Days pass fast, no big events staying on his mind for more than two days, it's been a month already since he introduced Mingi to them. But aside from his soulmate mark and the drawing he gifted him for, in his words, being such a nice person and making him company, he has nothing to remember.
Mingi is a kind soul, bright and different. He doesn't match Yunho's life, still, made a spot already. Almost like he was always there, with his clumsiness and yellow clothes.
"I guess. He is nice."
"Do you like him?"
Yunho grimaces, the ding telling his coffee is ready sounding at the same exact moment Seonghwa smirks.
"What are you saying?" He mumbles, shaking his head and fingers already meeting the warmth of the paper cup.
"You two would make a really good couple," Seonghwa says, leaning it to the wall. "And you're both tall."
Yunho rolls his eyes, taking a place next to him and letting the hazelnut spread all over his mouth before reaching his stomach, warming up his body.
"So you're telling me we'd make a really great couple just because we are tall. For real?"
"I'm just saying you don't need to bend down to kiss him."
Yunho rolls his eyes, fixing his gaze on the floor.
They don't keep on going after Yunho mentions San and Seonghwa gets a little nervous, both of them entering the library and working in silence for the rest of the morning. Mingi rolls in after lunch, wearing a bright green hoodie and sunglasses, even when it's still a little cloudy.
Yunho blames Seonghwa for the way he can't stop thinking about how they are the same height, how their eyes are at the same height as well, and how beautiful the boy looks when he is staring at him like he is not scared.
☁️
When the first flowers of Spring bloom and the cold starts vanishing slowly, San finds his soulmate.
Yunho is sitting on his usual spot of the cafeteria, full of people this time, the sound of life around him being way too loud to know what song is playing now. Fingers moving automatically over the keyboard, sitting alone.
When San appears, the first thing Yunho notices, is how that white strand of hair is now shining in purple. And how, next to him, there's a tiny body with the same vibrant colors moving on his forehead. The boy tries to hide it with one hand, but San — that's already holding onto tight to his other hand — is keeping him from doing it.
"Yunho," he says, voice cracking from happiness, pointing at the boy with his free hand. "This is Wooyoung, from my dance class. And also, my soulmate."
Yunho freezes a little, tongue dead inside his mouth, not knowing what to say. San, who had a mark on his hair like him, found a soulmate. San has a soulmate.
"Oh," the air pops outside of his lungs in the shape of a word. "Congratulations."
San proceeds to smile wide, introducing him to Wooyoung, the soulmate, whose eyes can't leave his hair.
"Can you believe he fell on me?" San fake cries after a while, making the boy change the direction of his gaze to frown at him.
"I tripped!"
"He bumped his rock head over my forehead," San explains, ignoring the boy's complaints. "It hurt. Thank god I had my bangs down."
"Oh yeah, but now I have to walk around with purple on my forehead," Wooyoung sighs.
"You can cover it with your hair, dumbass. You've been doing that your whole life."
"Still—"
As Yunho observes them, the cafeteria grows silent. Music flowing to his brain — what song it is? He doesn't remember. It's talking about rainbows and illusions.
San looks happy, and so does the other boy, both of them seeming to be engulfed in a purple aura. Purple souls.
Catching his reflection on the screen of his laptop, Yunho can't help but feel a little sad.
☁️
Seonghwa also gets a little sad from time to time, it tends to happen when the day he met his soulmate without even realizing comes near — April 4, that also coincides with his birthday, because he went to that concert to celebrate it three years ago — but right now, there’s something more aside from the fact he doesn’t know who his soulmate is that’s making him sleep curled next to Yunho’s body for five consecutive nights.
“Soulmates suck,” he mumbles, cheeks rosy as he takes his tenth shot of soju of the night. “My soulmate sucks, San sucks, San’s soulmate sucks, I suck,” he makes a pause to sob a little, head falling over Mingi’s shoulder. “The whole system, it sucks.”
Seonghwa texted Yunho the same day San decided to introduce them all to his soulmate — Wooyoung from his dance class — and he was already feeling heartbroken. Yunho knows the feeling. When you know the reason is stupid, but deep down, your brain thinks it’s not, and you cry. You cry so bad, for a moment, it stops hurting.
Just to hurt the double when the tears fade and you are left alone with your thoughts. In silence, biting your body, roses blooming directly from your heart. But the roses have thorns instead of petals, they sink, you bleed. Internally. Without knowing what to do.
You shatter without making a sound in a world that's too loud to even notice.
Knowing that, Yunho texted Mingi. Looking for help. Because if he was left alone with that seed rooting on his brain, it will soon move to his chest.
“You are just hurt, hyung,” Mingi mumbles, one hand on his thigh. “And you’re drinking a lot.”
“Now I can’t drink?” Seonghwa scoffs, putting the shot glass back on the table and crossing his arms. Tears won’t leave his eyes, making them glossy and sad. “This whole system is wrong. They give me my soulmate but there’s no way I can recognize them. So who cares about these colors if they won’t help me find the person that’s also looking at them right now?” He blames, putting his hand in the air and showing the colors kissing his fingertips. “Everyone is meeting their soulmate and then, there’s me. Even if we find each other, how I’m gonna know it’s them?”
The soulmate system was always wrong. Giving them nothing more but black and white until color blooms with the first touch. But nothing more. Maybe a little reminiscence while looking at each other’s eyes, but nothing big enough for the body to notice it. And Yunho is totally on Seonghwa’s side. It sucks.
“You can’t give up now,” Mingi says again, in a tiny voice. “I know it sucks, but this is not the end of the world. You have a long road ahead, hyung."
Seonghwa looks at the table, lips trembling a little. “But what if I fall for another person? And even that way… I can’t be with them? Why does it seem like I’m meant to be like this? Alone."
Yunho knows about San, and about how sparkly he looks in Seonghwa’s eyes. Now, they all know San’s eyes will be focussed on another person. Matching purple on their foreheads. And even when San isn’t Seonghwa’s soulmate, after the incident, he was like a second chance.
Pouring the bottle over his glass again, Yunho drinks to keep his mouth shut.
“Not being on a relationship doesn’t necessarily mean you are alone,” Mingi speaks, making both boys move their heads to him. He is serious, eyes fixed on his fingers, tapping the glass of his orange juice glass. “You have me, and Yunho. And your family. Soulmates don’t even last forever, so you can’t rely on something we are meant to. Fate always plays dirty and in the end, what actually means is what we do.”
Seonghwa cries even more after that, and walking back home — after Seonghwa decides it’s time to go back to his own apartment and leave Yunho’s bed —, Yunho hides his hands on the cave of his pockets, thinking. They walk side by side in silence, enjoying the night breeze, still a little cold but not as much as before.
“Can I ask you why you moved here again?” Yunho only says when they reach Mingi’s house, both of them standing in front of each other.
Mingi stares at him for a solid minute, without saying a thing. Parting his lips just so his hot breath mixes with the cold air, white cloud appearing in front of him.
“My parents got divorced,” he breathes, Yunho’s heart reacting to that. “My parents, who were soulmates. My mom was always talking about some rainbow connection, souls so broken that if they find each other, every color of the rainbow would appear and bathe every aspect of our lives. She was a truly lover of soulmates. But soulmates are nothing more but something we chose to believe in blindly. We can’t wait for that rainbow forever without moving, and even if it truly exists, there’s gonna be some rain before.”
In front of him, Mingi looks like he is not part of this world. Actually, for Yunho, he was always different. Not matching his own perspective of the world, being spring in winter, fire in the snow. Now he realizes he doesn’t even match the real world, that he is so far for them to reach out for him. And that, for the first time in his life, Yunho feels the need to reach a hand to another individual.
“I’m sorry if that made you sad,” Mingi apologises.
Yunho shakes his head. “I never believed in soulmates, it’s okay.”
“What was your reason?”
“No one wanted to get near me when I was a kid, because of my hair. They do it even now. Having a white soulmark is like being told you can’t go out and search for your soulmate. You’re not the one touching them, you are just here, waiting. For how much time? I don’t know. People getting far from me just made me realize that my soulmate won’t ever reach for me as well. It made me sad to think that, so I decided to delete it. If there’s not a soulmate for me, I’ll be able to live without worries.”
“But you worry,” Mingi adds, pursing his lips. “You still worry, right?”
“I mean,” for a reason, Yunho can feel the creeping feeling of pain crawling to his throat, making a ball there. “Even when you said that without a soulmate we are not alone, I’ve always felt lonely. Because I don’t have no one to rely on. I feel trapped in a world that doesn’t see past my mark.”
Tears fall delicacy, without warning first, just flowing. Cold and warm at the same time, setting his skin on fire just to congeal and pierce it seconds after.
“I believe you are really every color of the rainbow, Yunho,” Mingi’s voice sounds far but loud at the same time. “It’s been raining a lot, right?”
Yunho feels how his facade breaks, tears finally falling like they want: overflowing. “Yeah.”
“The sun will rise for you,” when Mingi’s hand presses against his cheek, he feels the fabric of the glove first. Itchy and cold. And then, starting from his toes to the last hair on his head, the sun breaking through the clouds. “Goodnight, Yunho.”
Roses blooming on his chest, but this time, there’s no thorns.
☁️
Rainy days disappear when May flows between them, sky shining in blue and yellow and white. As Yunho looks up, one hand over his eyes to protect them for the intense sunlight bathing everywhere, he gets a little surprised. At how the gray colors seemed to vanish, and all the pastel tones changed into vibrant ones. Just like Mingi.
Since Mingi arrived, everything seems to be filled with color.
“Karaoke!” San screams, one fist in the air, and not long after that Yeosang is joining him, chanting.
It’s Saturday. The weather sparkling so good after the long winter they decided to hang out for the first time in forever, all five of them — and Seonghwa spent ten minutes touching San’s purple hair as the younger boy giggled because it was ticklish. Yunho can’t help but pity Seonghwa, in a way.
“We’re not going karaoke,” Seonghwa shakes his head. “Last time we went, I ended up with a headache because of you, Choi San.”
“You don’t know how to appreciate good music!”
Yunho stands next to the curb where a tiny blue flower started to bloom alone. Out of nothing, standing strong, looking straight to the sun. Ignoring them.
“Hey, Spring Prince,” Mingi gets near, squatting next to him.
Yunho frowns. “Don’t call me that.”
“But it suits you, more than the Winter Prince," he smiles softly, already pulling his phone out to take a pic of the flower. “Hmm, can I take a pic of you?”
In just a second, Yunho feels two different things inside his chest. The first one, is a sudden feeling of disconcert, rushing through his veins and making him sweat and blush. The second one, is slow and warm, slenderly rocking his soul until he isn’t able to see nothing more but him in front of him. Wearing blue and oversized clothes, three different flowers attached to his soft red hair, eyes brown but looking like thousand different lights.
“What?”
“The light is pretty” he says. “You look a little blonde here.”
Yunho presses his lips into a thin line, softly nodding in the end. It feels a little awkward to stand there while Mingi takes the picture, but the smile that blooms on his lips after that is enough to make him forget about everything and lean in to see the picture. It’s true what he said. His hair doesn’t look as white as before, is more warm, more alive.
Once again, like Mingi is painting everything in color.
“I’ll send it to you later.”
“Hmm.”
“Yah, tall giants!” San calls from the other side, waving a hand in the air. “We’re going karaoke! Stop gossiping!”
Yunho stands to his feet immediately, tip of his ears acquiring a little of red. “We’re not gossiping!”
Next to him, Mingi giggles and takes another picture, this time of the sky. As they walk, listening how San and Yeosang start giving them a sneak peek of what the afternoon will look like, Yunho can’t help to think about all the things he has lived until now.
All the times he cried himself to sleep, body shaken by an unknown feeling of loneliness, believing he won’t make it. And now he is here, feeling warm.
Feeling like touching a rainbow.
☁️
“Yunho,” his mother says as she brushes his hair, softly, sun warming his face as they lay in the middle of their backyard. It’s summer, Yunho’s just seven and has his knees scratched. “In this world, you will encounter people that will hurt you without a reason, and people good enough to heal your heart without asking for something in reward. You will always notice the bad guys first, because our body always reacts first to bad things, trying to protect ourselves. But, listen to me sweetheart, if you ever find someone that's willing to make you feel safe, don’t push them away. Let them heal your heart.”
Lying in bed at twenty one, he doesn’t feel as warm as before. The words his mother said years ago still ramble on his brain, appearing from time to time, making him wonder if he did everything he needed to do right.
Now, it makes him think of Mingi.
Mingi, sitting on his desk and drawing because he suddenly got inspired when he stepped for the first time in Yunho’s room — they were supposed to be watching a movie together. The boy appeared with a pink hoodie and another pair of sunglasses, sketchbook under his arm, always looking at the verge of losing it but with a smile painted on his lips. It's enough to make Yunho smile a little.
He doesn’t know a lot about Mingi, but he is totally sure the boy has no intentions of hurting him. He is like the sun caressing his skin that day, the very first day he learnt sometimes words can hurt more than thousand knives.
“Look,” the boy turns around to show him the sketch. On the paper, there’s two otters chilling on calm water, holding hands. Yunho curves the edges of his mouth, sitting on the bed, feet touching the floor. He ends up giggling a little as he examines the drawing. “Don’t laugh!”
“I just find it cute. Why otters, though?”
Mingi looks back at the drawing, smiling to himself.
“Otters make me happy. These two are you and me,” he says, making Yunho open his eyes on surprise, heart beating loudly at the back of his ears. “Did you know otters hold hands while they sleep so they don’t drift away? I think we are helping each other,” he explains, barely looking at Yunho. “Keeping ourselves from drifting.”
“Hey,” Yunho’s lips move alone, maybe driven by the sudden warmth twisting on his chest, making him happy during the day, cold during the nights he is alone. Mingi moves his eyes at him, rainbows sparkling on his eyes again. “Thank you a lot, Mingi.”
The boy moves his brows down. “Why are you thanking me?”
“For appearing in my life,” he mumbles, observing how the boy’s expression changes in front of his eyes. “Keeping me from drifting. The past months have been weird for me but, after years, I haven’t feel lonely.”
“I’m glad.”
Yunho looks down. “Do you think there’s a reason for certain people to appear in your life?”
Mingi stares at him without saying a thing for what it seems an eternity, leaning back in the chair and putting the drawing down. Deep down, Yunho's fighting with someone whose face is blurry.
For years, he was alone, but he didn't feel as lonely as he felt that night they went drinking with Seonghwa. The same night he also felt more alive than ever. Almost like two worlds collided inside of him. And he is not sure if he is able to win that battle, because in front of him, Mingi stands like the sun.
He wants to run into his arms. But he is scared that feeling won't go away.
Or worse, that it will vanish for a while, coming strongly than ever.
"To help us," the boy finally says. "Making us notice things."
Yunho gulps. He did notice it.
"I don't wanna be alone," he mumbles, hands taking a grip of the sheets, legs trembling a little. His heart throbs inside his chest, the dying sound almost like a melody on his ears. "I want to be someone's someone. Even if it sounds dumb. I don't care. I want to mean something for someone."
In front of him, Mingi sighs, standing up and kneeling in front of him. As always, he takes off his gloves slowly, dark marks appearing. Yunho thinks of them as beautiful marks. Not like his white hair, no scary at all.
Just with half a smile and slightly sad eyes, Mingi raises both his hands to his face. Fingers threading on his hair, thumbs circling on the skin of his cheeks. And Yunho freezes immediately, because the touch is warmth like a summer afternoon and in Mingi's eyes, there's the same rainbows he has been seeing for a while now.
It's been years since someone touched his hair.
Mingi smiles at him, caressing his skin.
"It's not dumb," he says, softly. "It's not dumb, Yunho. Our souls crave what we don't have. And it's sad, because you deserve all the love in the world. Your hair," he breathes, standing up hands still on his head — so he is now looking at him from above —, and he smiles brightly. As bright as his red hairs and yellow hoodies. "Your hair is beautiful. It reminds me of snow, and cake, and new sketchbooks. It's calming, like a free day after a lot of work. And I know, one day, you will look even more beautiful with your hair filled with the rainbow colors."
One day.
Yunho's eyes fall from Mingi's face to his knees as the boy leans in, lips pressed to his forehead. He closes his eyes tight, a thousand colors exploding at the back of his eyelids, shining brightly in the cold dark ocean.
When he opens them again, Mingi is already back into the chair, hands on his thighs.
Black.
Unchanged.
And so is his hair.
"I thought that maybe, fate wanted us together for something more specific," Mingi says, and his voice can't keep the sadness away, bathing in cold colors that have Yunho covering his face with both hands. Because this must be a joke. "I'm sorry."
Yunho remains silent for a while, feeling his mother's fingers on his scalp once again.
"I never thought of you as my soulmate," he admits. "But just now, when you touched me, I hoped for color to spark, you know."
"Me too," Mingi smiles, sadly. "I've liked you since the day we met."
Yunho smiles too, not specifically because he feels like smiling, but because there's nothing he can do aside from that. With both arms falling dead in between his legs, he takes the biggest mouthful of air he can. And waits.
For frustration to kick in.
For bad thoughts to take over his brain.
For the cold waves to crash, bathing him in winter colors again.
But none of that happens, his chest burns with the air he is keeping and his mind is, for the first time in forever, quiet.
"My mom used to tell me there was two type of person in this world, and I totally believe you are the second type," he blurts, pursing his lips together. "Thanks for healing my heart."
"Do you remember about the rainbow connection?" Mingi asks in a whisper, at which Yunho just nods. "It doesn't have to refer to soulmates. Just broken souls."
Yunho looks up, finding rainbows again.
"Remember, fate always plays dirty. But souls, souls know what path to choose. Souls guide you to safety. And some souls are not meant to be together forever, they're meant to heal and let go."
Mingi starts crying in front of him, in silence, for some reason he doesn't understand. But it hurts him as well, on a place that doesn't seem to be part of his body.
Almost like they share a deep pain.
And under that rainbow connection he mentioned, Yunho finds his hair as white as ever. But the colors engulfing them, as they sit on his room, are not cold anymore.
They're warm.