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When he was five years old, Minho’s mother sat him down on the couch to explain one of the biggest parts of everyone’s lives. Her eyes were excited as she told her son about soulmates and the dreams that connected them, and helped them find each other.
Minho learned that just about everyone in the world had a soulmate. After the age of six, most people began to dream. In these dreams, they would see small flashes of their soulmate.
These dreams were little flashes and images that would one day help them find each other. Details such as a glimpse of their eyes, or their hair.
Some people could even see a few seconds of what their soulmate was doing at the time, such as working on a project, or petting a cat. Even more rare were the dreams in which soulmates actually met and had brief conversations before waking up, although the chance of having this sort of dream increased as one grew older if they hadn’t found each other yet.
These types of dreams were most commonly found in the romantic dramas that broadcasted during the day while most people were at work or school.
It all sounded so fascinating, the idea that everyone had another half that they would find through these little scenes in their dreams. Minho imagined his soulmate, trying to visualize what they would look like. What their laugh would sound like. It was exciting, and Minho wanted to be part of it.
As they entered their second year in school, Minho’s own classmates began chattering excitedly about seeing their soulmates in the dreams. A few kids recounted the color of their soulmate’s eyes or their hair, and some even had small conversations through their dreams. Most conversations at the playground now revolved around who had seen their soulmate during the night, and what they had learned about them. The most popular game to play was to run around the park, searching for someone whose eyes, or hair looked similar to what they had seen in their dreams.
Minho listened closely as one of his friends described a detailed scene from her dream. The dream sounded too beautiful to be true, and Minho tried hard not to feel jealous.
She described falling asleep and opening her eyes again to see a bright field of sunflowers on a warm afternoon. A girl her age was smiling and laughing as she raced through the rows of sunflowers with her friends.
She described how pretty her soulmate’s laugh had been as it filled the air around her, how she had practically felt the sun shining on her back. How she could almost hear the birds singing nearby.
She asked Minho if he’d had any dreams yet, and he had to smile and shake his head, not wanting to ruin the happy mood.
But he was beginning to worry.
Every night, Minho lay in bed staring at the ceiling, hoping desperately for a dream.
He needed to know that he wasn’t meant to be alone.
Yet night after night, it seemed as though the second he fell asleep, the morning light filled his room and his mom would come to wake him up for school.
She assured him that his dreams would come, and that he just had to be patient, But Minho could tell she was beginning to worry too. It wasn’t common for someone to turn seven without having a single dream.
But there wasn’t much he could do, so Minho waited. Hoping against hope that he wasn’t just meant to be alone forever.
After a few months, he was almost ready to give up hope, and tried to spend his energy focused on other things. It was too much to think about all of the time, and he was just so tired.
Minho was especially tired after a long day of playing with the kids in his neighborhood. At seven years old, his legs ached with what his mother smiled and affectionately called ‘growing pains,’ and they were especially sore after he and his friends designed the ultimate racecourse through their neighborhood.
They stood in a line at the stop sign at the end of the road, and at the count of three they took off, for the tree at the edge of the woods. Minho loved racing down the hill through the dark, hollering with his friends.
His room was dark as his mother closed the door after tucking him in. Tonight, the thoughts of soulmates and dreams were far from his mind as he pulled the blankets up to his chin. His head barely landed on the pillow before he fell asleep, his mind recounting his win earlier when he managed to beat one of his friends by a quarter of a second.
And yet, tonight was different than before. Minho didn’t wake up immediately. Everything was dark, and he wondered for a moment if he was still awake. And yet, he knew he wasn’t.. What was going on? Was this a dream? Minho hardly dared to breathe as he waited.
And then, he heard something. The sound was faint, barely more than a whisper, but he strained his ears as hard as he could towards the sound. He heard a soft brushing sound, followed by a loud screech that startled Minho so much that he woke up with a gasp, glancing around his dark room, mind racing to match his heart.
Somewhere very far away, a boy with stars in his eyes and freckles on his cheeks, grabbed his violin with little fists and began to play for the first time.
<3
The next morning, Minho lay in bed still thinking about what he had heard the night before. When his mother came in, a questioning look on her face as she realized he was already awake, Minho wasn’t sure if he should mention it. He didn't want to worry his mother and cause her to think there was anything wrong. So he managed a smile as he shook his head, before he got up and got ready for school like any other day.
It happened again that night, and each night after that. Minho’s sleep was filled with discordant screeching and scratching sounds that would shake him awake in the middle of the night. He wasn’t sure if these were considered dreams. He couldn’t see anything when he slept, all he could hear were these abrasive noises that repeated over and over through the night.
Whenever someone mentioned soulmates or dreams, Minho kept to himself, his mind drifting off as he recalled the horrible shrieking sounds that had recently started to invade his sleep. Was his soulmate a monster? Why did it sound like a dying cat every night? He usually started awake as soon as the first screech sounded, the sound akin to nails on a chalkboard, or something howling miserably. Whatever it was, Minho didn’t often stay asleep for longer than a second or two after the first jarring sound.
After a few days, Minho struggled to stay awake during the day. He honestly wished that whatever was happening would just stop. He begged the universe to just let him sleep peacefully again, instead of filling his head with the jarring sounds that rang through his ears, jolting him awake at all hours of the night.
It wasn’t until one night about a week later when Minho managed to stay asleep after the first sound, a mix of determination to figure out what he was hearing combined with pure exhaustion from a week of poor sleep keeping him from waking up as his dream began.
Minho cringed as he heard the first screech, it was the one that usually startled him awake. He waited a moment, focusing on staying asleep, as he waited for the next sound, which came soon after, followed by more and more.
The sounds were notes, Minho realized. A series of pitches, that cautiously ascended up to a certain point, which was held for an extra beat before they shakily descended back down to the starting note. The pitch was off more than half the time, and the tone of all of it sounded quite rough, but Minho ignored that as his mind raced, connecting the dots.
It was a scale, Minho thought, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and suddenly he was awake, back in his silent room.
As he opened his eyes, the clock on the wall showing 3:23am, Minho grinned, because, finally, he understood what was going on. It made so much sense now.
When his mother came into his room the next morning, Minho smiled so widely that she immediately knew what had happened. She ran over and hugged her son happily, congratulating him on his first dream.
<3
Minho knew he was asleep when he heard the music starting again. He was seventeen, and had stayed up too late again studying. His parents pushed him to work hard in order to get into a good school, but after three nights staying up past three am to study, Minho was exhausted.
He had top grades in his classes, but they reminded him he needed to constantly push himself to improve. Minho didn’t tell them, but he had different goals. While he humored them by staying up until 3:30 am studying math every night, he was also preparing to audition for the performing arts school in the city.
Minho wanted to play the piano. He attributed his love of the instrument to the constant exposure to classical music as his soulmate practiced the violin every night. He still had no idea who his soulmate was, but they played the violin like no one else Minho had met.
After the first few months or so, hearing them play each night became more pleasant as the other had moved on from the single lined beginner’s pieces and had begun to learn more.
Over the years, Minho loved getting to hear as the other improved, adding emotion to their playing. Some nights every once in a while, Minho’s dream would be slightly different. He heard more than the violin. Sometimes there was a piano playing an accompanying part to the violin. Then when the piece ended, Minho would wake up, the sounds of applause still ringing in his ears.
Naturally, Minho had a great interest in the violin and classical music in general after his dreams began. He asked his mom to teach him to play piano. He often sat down in the music room with the teacher after class to play fragments of melodies that he remembered from his dreams.
This was how he learned what music his soulmate was playing. And based on the material, the other was quite advanced assuming they were Minho’s age. Minho’s teacher raised her eyebrows when Minho tapped out a quick, joyful rhythm that turned out to be pretty advanced.
“That key is pretty tricky for a beginner… There are a lot of accidental notes, and one needs a lot of practice to keep the pitch from rising up too far” She said to herself as she listened. Minho was proud to hear this, and excitedly told his parents that night.
One day Minho stayed home from school, sick. As he lay on the couch feverishly drifting in and out of sleep, he listened while his soulmate struggled immensely with a passage.
It was fast and tricky, and the other kept hitting the wrong notes. Minho listened as the violinist tried again and again, only producing a worse sound each time before giving up.
Minho cringed as he heard a screech as his soulmate dragged their bow across the string unceremoniously before setting the violin down. Minho heard a frustrated sigh. He expedited to wake up at this point, the violinist had stopped practicing. But he didn’t. Instead, he listened as a door nearby opened and a woman’s voice carried into the room.
Minho realized she was speaking in English and was thankful he’d paid attention in class when he understood what she was saying.
“It’s okay Felix, you’ll get it soon. Why don’t you come have dinner and then you can try again later?”
A boy’s voice answered, and Minho’s eyes flew open. The boy spoke with the most Australian accent possible, and Minho loved the way it sounded. He couldn’t believe he got to hear him.
When Minho went to sleep that night, he was happy and proud when he heard Felix play through the passage, hitting every note. Minho could hear how happy he was through his playing. The music was victorious that night.
<3
Minho walked into University a year and a half later, carrying just a bundle of clothes with him. When he told his parents about his plans to attend university for the piano, they were less than excited, but in the end they did support him. He would be welcome home at the holidays and he was happy about that.
He headed upstairs to his dorm, happy to see his roommate was already there getting unpacked.
“Hey, I’m Changbin,” His roommate smiled as Minho introduced himself. He had a feeling they would become good friends.
After Minho finished unpacking, the two decided to head to the dining hall for an early dinner, meeting a couple other new people who all seemed really nice. A boy named Jisung spoke animatedly throughout dinner about his plans to audition for the theatre production the next day, and encouraged all of them to join him.
Another boy, Hyunjin, laughed, and said Jisung was on his own because his photography class would have him wandering all over the city looking for good photo opportunities. All of them were in a different arts program, but they clicked well together. Minho gazed around the dining hall, feeling his heart stop momentarily when a boy walked in from outside.
He was alone, but stood tall as he walked over to order food. He was tall, with warm blond hair, and lots of freckles. Minho felt like he needed to go talk to him right immediately in that moment or otherwise he might just pass away. However, his attention was drawn back to the table when a boy named Seungmin started asking them questions about their soulmates. Seungmin was a creative writing major and had an assignment to write a story about soulmates, and he announced that he needed inspiration.
Everyone began to share information they’d gathered about their soulmates, and Minho began to drift again, his mind wandering to the boy he’d seen earlier. He had disappeared, maybe taken his food and left to eat somewhere else. Minho wished he had stayed.
A few weeks later, Minho walked back to his dorm after his lesson with the piano professor. The lesson had gone well, and Minho walked quickly, energized from the positive lesson, and his plans to watch a movie with Changbin when he got back. They had rented the movie and Changbin bought them ice cream so they could have an official movie night. They were both really excited to say the least.
It was getting late. The sun had already set, and the sky was fading to a dark indigo. The courtyard was silent as he crossed, but suddenly from somewhere nearby he heard a violin playing. The sound carried from one of the opened windows, probably someone in a practice room nearby.
Minho would brush it off and keep walking if he didn’t immediately recognize the sound. He knew exactly what it sounded like when Felix practiced the first few measures of Zigeneurweisen by Sarasate.
Minho stood for a moment, very much awake in the courtyard, letting the sound wash over him. He was here. And so was Felix. He was literally meters away, and yet, Minho knew he couldn’t meet him yet. He didn’t feel ready at all, the other was in the middle of practicing, and besides, Minho had a movie to watch with Changbin.
Minho kept walking back to his dorm, the sound of the violin carrying through the night. The sound stayed with him until he reached his dorm, when it was barely a whisper in the distance.
<3
At the beginning of November, the music department began posting flyers for an upcoming violin recital. Minho’s friends invited him to join them. Jisung told him he had a friend who was performing that night. Jisung told Minho his friend was ‘super good’ at the violin so it would be cool to see. Minho laughed and agreed, not really wanting to share his own reasons for going.
As they filed into the auditorium that Thursday night, Minho’s fingers shook slightly. He could barely focus through the first performances, waiting near the edge of his seat for his soulmate to arrive.
After at least half an hour of various performances, Jisung sat up excitedly beside him. “That’s him!” He whispered to Minho, pointing at the stage as a tall boy with blond hair walked out onto the stage, violin in his hands.
Minho’s heart stopped.
The boy walked over to the microphone, bowing before introducing himself as Lee Yongbok. He spoke with an accent as he introduced the piece he would play. It was the same piece Minho had heard that night walking back to his dorm. The song he’d listened to every time he fell asleep for the last few weeks.
He turned to Jisung.
“Where is your friend from?” He asked. The audience around them clapped as the boy prepared to play.
“Ah, Felix is from Australia,” Jsung smiled, before turning to face the front. Minho unfroze and turned to face the stage just as the piano stuck the opening bars of the piece.
The audience fell silent as Felix began to play.
Minho felt like he’d died. As Felix played the opening notes with such emotion that the sound filled the entire auditorium, reaching all the way to the back walls, the sound bouncing off before echoing away softly.
Felix stood onstage, performing for the three hundred people in the audience, but in that moment, he was truly only playing for one person. Someone he hadn’t found yet, and wasn’t sure he’d ever find.
Minho glazed around the auditorium, noticing how people had sat up straighter in their seats to watch, mesmerized as the boy ricocheted his bow flawlessly, cleanly adding left hand pizzicato before returning to the softer melody.
The entire audience hung onto each note that came from the small wooden instrument, as Felix played each phrase, telling a story. As he approached the end, Minho watched, in awe as Felix smiled, speeding up his bow.
He was playing faster than Minho had ever heard him practice, and Minho held his breath until he played the final note. His bow flew off the string and ended up raised in the air above his head, victoriously. He smiled, before bowing deeply as the audience jumped to their feet cheering.
He glanced around the audience, eyes searching through the crowd before he saw Minho, and time froze for both of them. They both stood, gazing into each other's eyes for a few seconds, before the moment ended. Felix smiled, bowing again to the still-applauding audience, before he turned and walked offstage.
Minho excused himself to go to the bathroom, getting up and heading out of the auditorium before the next performer walked onstage. He pushed open the double doors to the auditorium softly, heading out into the lobby. It was empty, everyone already inside. He could hear faintly as the next performer began, and Minho recognized the way The Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso by Camille Saint-Saëns sounded from having heard Felix play it before in his dreams. It was one of his favorites.
Another door opened, and Felix walked out. He had packed away his violin, and carried the case slung over his shoulder. He had rolled up his sleeves slightly, and his blond hair was slightly windswept after the performance.
He smiled at Minho, as he walked over.
“Felix?” Minho asked. The other boy looked surprised for a moment, before smiling brightly and nodding.
“And your name is…?”
“Minho. You play really well, by the way,” Minho added. Now that they were finally standing here, he wasn’t really sure what to say.
“Thanks, you play the piano really well,” Felix smiled, a slight tinge to his cheeks. Minho froze, before he laughed slightly, thanking him.
They had a lot to talk about.
But before they could say much more, Minho's friends burst from the double doors, the rest of the audience filing out of the auditorium after them as the last performance had ended. Jisung reached them first, running to hand Felix the flowers he’d brought.
Their friend group insisted on taking Felix out for dinner to celebrate his performance, and Minho found himself seated across from him at the table. Both kept stealing glances at the other throughout the dinner, as if to make sure the other was in fact real. But they were real, and they had finally found each other.
<3
Ten years later, Minho sat at the piano, fingers dancing as he tapped out a cheerful tune. Felix grinned before jumping in and accompanying him on the violin. Their kids, aged three and four giggled and started dancing to the music. They were as happy as they could be, in their little cottage just outside the city. When they weren’t traveling abroad for their performances, they stayed here. Their kids played outside in the flower field nearby, and Felix helped Minho bake pies from the wild blackberries that grew nearby.
Their little family stayed together, making music everywhere they went, and they were happy.