Archive of Our Own

The first thing Jaemin will say to his soulmate when he meets them is, ‘Do you really have to be listening to Dashboard Confessional for five days straight?’ because the damn lyrics to the song ‘Vindicated’ are carved in his head. 

I am selfish

I am wrong

I am right, I swear I'm right

It is already his soulmate’s third emo phase of the year and it is frankly concerning. He has been counting because he’s worried about his soulmate’s mental health sake more than anything else. How can they be so… depressed?

Perhaps it’s just like how Michael Bublé sang it: he just hasn't met them yet, or they wouldn’t have been so miserable with their lives. He wouldn’t allow it if he knew them. Growing up nurtured by his parents with all the affection and music they could possibly provide, Jaemin truly can say he had a happy childhood. He was nine when he learnt that love and music are intrinsically linked, and it’s the brilliant evolution of music that literally brings soulmates together. When he added Celine Dion to his playlist at age twelve he hoped his significant other would appreciate his music tastes, for countless times he has heard the story of how his parents remarkably met in a vintage vinyl store and coincidentally shared the same love for Elvis Presley. Unbeknownst to them, it was far from a coincidence, but rather a work of fate the moment they met eyes. They felt the strange unexplainable pull as the song mysteriously played like feedback in their minds, the sensation enthralling that it sent a funny tingle right down to their bones, and the rest was history. 

On the flip side, people don’t always end up with the person they share a bond with, countless others have chosen to oppose predestination in favour of the free will. The idea of searching and pairing with their supposedly predestined mate in these changing times is perhaps nominal and unimportant to some. To them, deferring to something ~written in the stars~ and submitting to one’s lot in life is a preposterous idea. 

It always baffles him how perfect soulmate pairings would still split up, even though it’s supposedly the best love there is.

Nevertheless, growing up witnessing unconditional love between his parents and other successfully paired couples makes him pretty optimistic when it comes to his own. Admittedly, he’s also a diehard romantic, which is why he takes the soulmates notion pretty seriously. He dabbled in romance himself; had one or two flings, dated seriously once, but there is just something – for the lack of a better word – inadequate, of previous relationships. It just feels somewhat off-putting when he knows there’s someone out there for him already, someone he’s bound to meet in the future. 

And on that note, he has no alternative but to endure another late-night session of his soulmate’s best emo hits of the 2000s running telepathically in his mind.

—

Driest lecture taught by the most ponderous professor of the century, it’s no wonder rumours fly he doesn’t listen to music. Explains! What a drab life he’s living!

Though if Destiny's Child says he’s a survivor then Jaemin is a motherfucking survivor. The 8 am hell lecture has nothing on Beyoncé, Kelly and Michelle, Prof Choi can drill on to the next millennium for all he cares. Absentmindedly bobbing his head to the music he doodles on his notepad, barely paying any attention to the lecture; it’s perhaps worrying if he wants to pass this year, but no sweat. He had experience; it’s easy to borrow notes from one of the girls in his class, they will be willing to anyway. 

He smirks internally. Truth be told, it’s really not difficult to fathom the reason.

He slides his fingers into his head, casually ruffling his pink cotton candy hair, hue a perfect match with the cheery music playing from his earbuds. Bubblegum pop is his go-to and energy source, and it works even better than his daily iced americano. It doesn’t matter what people might think of him with his music preference in contrast to his outward appearance, he loves it anyhow. Doesn’t matter it’s a mismatch with his dreamy flower boy looks and well-defined six pecs, he works out best to Gaga anyway.

Still immersed in his music, Jaemin slightly flinches in surprise when Jeno plucks out one of his earbuds for a listen, only to remove it in disgust when he catches the song – now Kelis’, drilling on about how her ‘milkshakes brings all the boys in the yard.’

“Dude, just spare a look at them.” Jeno nudges his chin. Jaemin gazes towards the direction, discovering a group of girls a few tables away currently staring at them, or him, specifically. Caught in the act, they hastily whip their heads back to the front, embarrassment evident on their faces.

“How can you betray their image of you?” Jeno whispers harshly. “How will they sleep well at night knowing you listen to fucking Celine Dion and what the fuck, was that Fergie?!”

"Dude. It's Kelis."

Jeno clutches his face in chagrin. "Who cares???"

Jaemin strikes him on his biceps in a mark of indignance, snatching back his earbud. “Stop shaming my music preferences. I think they would find my music tastes pretty cute.”

“Ugh, said no one ever. Honestly, I pity your soulmate.”

“How dare you! Take that back!”

“Nopeee.” Jeno drawls as he twirls his pen mockingly.

Oooh Jenoooo, don’t think for one second you’re getting the last laugh, Jaemin grouses internally. He bids his time, eyes narrowed in childish spite. A moment after the professor turns away from the class to scribble on the whiteboard, and choice words he knows will hit Jeno the hardest comes hurling out in a rush. “Please, you’re one to talk. You really should consider moving on from Pokemon’s theme song if you still want him to date you.”

He suppresses a laugh when Jeno’s pen is sent flying, fingers missing a beat, and the stationery hits the table with a loud thwack and bounces off the carpet. Alerted by the noise, Prof Choi zeroes in on them like a hawk, displeasure written all over his countenance, and Jaemin points an incriminating finger at Jeno. The professor shakes his head in disapproval but continues his lecture, though they have to settle with more frequent glances at their direction.

“I don’t listen to that anymore, what the hell are you talking about?!” Jeno ducks low into his seat and whispers frantically.

Jaemin throws a smug grin; his counterblow has been effective, chagrin stark clear by the blooming red on Jeno’s face and ears. “Really Jeno? Your reaction tells me you’re lying.”

Jeno deflates. “I really hate you.”

“But said no one ever.” Jaemin bats his eyelashes triumphantly. Unable to retaliate with a retort to that, Jeno sulks for the remaining lecture.

Ahh, victory is indeed sweet. 

♫♫♫

While Jaemin still doesn’t have the faintest idea who his soulmate could be, Jeno found his when he turned sixteen. It’s the exact age when the music starts to chime in their minds unprompted, unceasing and never-ending in the way earworms would stick. The phenomenon is called Melopsychism, and for every newly aged sixteen, it was the hardest and weirdest experience. Imagine obtrusive music playing at random, with no switch off button in sight. God, at least a body mark or red string looks pretty and functional!

It may be inaccurate to describe Jeno finding his soulmate, for Jeno’s soulmate found him instead.

In the case of encountering soulmates, it’s generally split into three situations: the first are the curious cases of strangers somehow finding their paths interconnected through the miraculous work of fate. The second kind is couples who appear to be strangers at first, but soon discover they aren’t strangers as they previously think, that they have made their mark in some fleeting way on each other’s lives before their eventful meeting. The last is the most common; they already knew each other before signs of Melopsychism started to exhibit, and such couples soon find how effortlessly music draws them together quite literally and metaphorically.

It was easy for Jeno’s soulmate, because, well, they were from the same high school, all three of them. And as it happens, there just aren't many people who listen to cartoon theme songs on a daily basis.

“It’s Donghyuck’s birthday a week from now,” Jeno says suddenly, just as Jaemin loses grip on the udon noodle between his chopsticks. The noodle slides back into the bowl, bits of soup splattering out onto the table.

“Right,” Jaemin says noncommittally, attempting to scoop the slippery noodles out again.

“I’m thinking of asking him out and treating him to a birthday meal…” Jeno adds.

“Go tiger.”

Jeno unleashes a disgruntled sigh, lips set in a deep pout. “Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know, more supportive?”

Jaemin throws him a pointed look. “The last few attempts when you had cold feet and scurried away before he even saw you, I remember those times.”

Jeno hangs his head low, dispirited as he mulls over his words. “Fuck, you’re right. It's going to be one of those times again.”

“But dude, you don’t have much time,” Jaemin says as he chews his noodles. “Donghyuck is quite popular. He’s going to get taken if you keep wavering.”

Lee Donghyuck, twenty years old, in a sense, is a constant presence in their lives. He went to the same high school as them, but he was in a different class and social circles. They’re enrolled together in the same university, but once again, he’s in a different major. Golden tanned skin, liked for his personality and smarts, he’s striking, for many reasons. Jaemin’s friendship with him is more of a casual hi-and-bye type, but Jeno edges just marginally because… well, because of his various pathetic attempts at courting his soulmate after they learnt they were each other's pair in the final semester of high school.

Right at the moment, Paramore’s Misery Business blares suitably in his head. Snorting inwardly, Jaemin sends a mental high-five to his soulmate for the right mood of a song. How apt for this exact scenario, it does feel like a misery business indeed. 

He glances at Jeno, firm lips pressed down in a scowl, and Jaemin can’t help but feel sympathetic. He honestly cares for his best friend, and this… this has been an ongoing problem. See, it might not be beneficial to chance upon soulmates early; it has been almost two years since they discovered they are destined for each other, but until now, they have not paired as a couple, and this is where it gets tricky. For both parties who are still undecided to bond together, it’s like being trapped in an emotional limbo of sorts. Some think it’s taboo to partake in relationships while already being aware of the identity of their soulmates, while some have no qualms dating other people in the meantime.

Jeno belongs to the former. It’s an understatement to say he has fallen in love with his soulmate, but unless he grows some balls, Jaemin supposes the poor man has to settle with the occasional self-handjob.

“You guys are early.” Jisung joins them on their table. The younger haphazardly discards his backpack and steals a piece of Jaemin’s tempura, earning a retaliating pinch on his arm.

“OW!”

Jaemin tsks. “Get your own meal.”

“I’m broke.”

“He’s so out of my league…” Jeno wails sadly, pushing his tray away to set his head morosely on the table. Jisung takes the neglected food instantly.

“Donghyuck?” Jisung mouths. Jaemin nods. 

Jisung shrugs, chowing down speedily. “I heard from Chenle that Donghyuck is planning a get-together for his birthday.”

The affinity between pairs is such a funny business. Jisung and Chenle bickered so much in high school, causing food fights in the cafeteria because Jisung didn’t want to share the last piece of his chicken cutlet. However, when both of them reached the age of sixteen, they unwittingly discovered they were each other’s fated pairs while listening to The Biebs. Now they are pretty much joined at the hip, even though they like to play the denial game. Jaemin doesn’t miss the hand-holding, the covert smiles they share when they think no one’s looking. It’s cute.

“Damn.” Jeno’s voice comes out muffled. “A party. I’m so stupid. Why did I even think having a meal–”

“Hi, losers.”

Jeno straightens up so quickly that Jaemin swears it’s going to cause some irreversible damage of some sort to his spine. Intrigued, he turns sideways to find Donghyuck looming in their direction with Chenle in tow. 

Befitting his social butterfly status, Chenle is in Donghyuck’s circle of friends while being a close friend of theirs as well. Partly because of Jisung, and because Jeno is exceptionally generous when Chenle is around. When bribed, the boy is exceptionally loose-lipped.

“Heyyyy.” Jaemin and Jisung chorus brightly. 

“So, in case you guys haven’t heard,” Donghyuck begins with a flourishing wave. “I’m having a get-together at my place because it’s–”

“It’s your birthday.” Jeno blurts out, clamping his mouth immediately. Chenle and Jisung share a look and snickers.

Donghyuck tilts his head interestedly, a bemused grin forming. Jaemin resolutely looks the other way and far out of the cafeteria, as far as his vision could go. That’s also approximately how far he wants to be away from the literal embodiment of embarrassment he for the most part calls his best friend.

“That’s… correct.” Donghyuck beams. “Well, it’s a casual affair, something small for people I know…. so I thought I would invite you guys.”

“I was the one that suggested it to him. You all can thank me later.” Chenle mock whispers, taking a seat at the table.

“I wanted to invite them, regardless of your coercion.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “So, I hope you guys are free next week?” 

“SURE, I’M AVAILABLE.” Jeno booms instantaneously. Jisung jolts violently while Jaemin rubs gingerly at his ears, with the volume, anyone could easily hear his voice from a mile away.

“T–That’s great!” Donghyuck stammers, lips curving in a tentative smile. Silence seeps in when the conversation lulls, and it’s obvious Donghyuck has more to say, but the megawatt simper Jeno has displayed on his face is resolute and unwavering. The quietness prolongs, atmosphere turning disquieting as both stares mutely at each other.

What a dumbass, Jaemin gripes; his best friend must have used other parts of his body to think, his ass for example, because there’s no reason he needs to be so ridiculous and creepy at the same time.

“Erm… R–Right.” Donghyuck mutters, eventually breaking eye contact. Jeno’s piercing gaze is still unrelenting, now amped up to almost a disconcerting vein. “I will be preparing lots of food, so you all can just come and chill. Chenle, dinner later, don’t forget. Junnie’s cooking.”

Chenle nonchalantly raises his fingers in an ‘ok’ gesture. Jaemin’s eyes are going to roll off his socket any moment now; the tension is so transparent Jeno deserves some sort of prize for not being able to detect the killer vibe he’s channelling, so obtuse in realising that whatever he’s doing is making Donghyuck walk backwards in fear.

“Er. Yup. IguessIwillseeyouguysnextweek.” Donghyuck rambles in haste, quickening to a run.

And he wonders why he can never score a date, Jaemin heaves a breath in exasperation. The scenario calls for desperate measures, and Jaemin smashes his foot down on Jeno’s feet, snapping the boy back to reality instantly. He yelps and jolts up in pain, but his knee hits the underneath of the table, and he howls out again.

“The hell, what was that for?!” Jeno grouses, rubbing his knee. He darts his head around, but the person he’s searching for has long disappeared.

“Dude. What were you even trying to accomplish with your creepy ass staring?” Jaemin crosses his arms.

“What– I wasn’t even doing anything!!”

“But that’s exactly the problem. You were doing nothing but staring.” Jisung pipes.

“I–”

“You’re amazing, Jeno. Do people change when they’re around their soulmates? The Donghyuck I know isn’t so timid around people.” Chenle queries aloud.

“Wait–” Jeno tries again.

“We’re still the same though,” Jisung claims. “I mean, you’re still as childish and petty.”

“And you’re still as dumb as before, but you don’t hear me complaining.” Chenle ripostes.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Jaemin interjects. “Donghyuck said you coerced him. Chenle. What did you do now?”

“Yeah...” Jeno mumbles in a state of nerves. “Is that why he looks so glum? You shouldn’t have forced him if he didn’t want to invite us, you know, I mean… it’s his birthday, and he can choose the people he likes to the party, I wouldn’t even blame him… he’s my soulmate after all... I don’t even want him to be upset.. fuck, what if he’s upset…”

Choo-choo, the train of doubt and insecurity is running at full speed again.

“Oh, god.” Jaemin pinches his nose bridge. “Chenle, do something.”

“It’s just like how Donghyuck told you! He originally wanted to send the invitation online, but I said he should ask you guys directly or I would laugh at his face forever if he is going to be such a wuss. Happy now?”

Jeno looks up, still doubtful. “Really?”

“YESSSSS, GODD!!!!” Chenle screeches, annoyance ripples across his features. He taps the bowl that Jisung is inhaling, displeased. “Now that my matchmaking work is done, be a good boy and fetch me a bowl of ramen, will you?”

♫♫♫

Sometimes, Jaemin’s soulmate listens to the most captivating songs instead of the dreary range he plays regularly. Songs that sing of love, of hope, of dreams, of all the positivity of the world, and he can’t help but do a double-take when the songs appear in his head. He stores such moments in his little mental box of ‘things interesting about my soulmate’, heart-stirring as the music climaxes with a simple guitar instrumental, the singer’s crooning vocals causing Jaemin to stop whatever he was doing.

These are just lines of latitude

That we made up, drawn upon a map

We could be meeting with more than minds

We could be woven and intertwined

It’s nice to know he’s not the only one awake. Sure, most of the students on campus would be presently awake like him as well, all-sustaining with liberal cups of cheap coffee and cup noodles to pull through the nights. Nevertheless, Jaemin is comforted that his soulmate is presently sanguine and hasn’t spiralled into his darker collection, choosing to listen to tunes more cheery and optimistic instead. The sentiment carries with him, lingering in his mind endlessly, and even if he has been burning the midnight oil for three days straight, good spirits persist unabatingly.

It’s nice, being in this little moment with his soulmate, even if it’s not entirely accurate. An early autumn breeze stirs the curtains to life, the flame on his scented candle flickering with the wind. It carries the damp fragrance of the earth, delicate after a pouring rain in the day, harmonious when mingled with the clean cotton scent of his wax candle. He shuts his eyes, stirred up by the ambience of the night. He’s feeling exceptionally sentimental; the fact they are two separate individuals connected by an invisible line of destiny, bonded by melody, reverberating and everlasting, is extraordinary. It’s familiar and foreign at the same time; he knows nothing about his soulmate except the music they are listening to, yet, sharing the same music alongside each other feels immensely private and special.

He opens his eyes after the song ends, and the cursor blinks back at him.

“Back to work!” He stretches his arms cheerfully and returns to his laptop.

—

Initially, Jaemin was rather in anticipation for the party. It’s happening on the weekend right after their project submissions, and a social gathering with the promise of fun, food and booze sounded like a great plan for a much-needed respite.

Well, maybe not everyone.

In contrast, Jeno had been a nervous wreck for a whole week. Deadlines were one thing, but the other bigger issue revolving in his head was Donghyuck’s party. One day he was convinced he had to spend his whole fortune on the most extravagant gift he could purchase, the next he thought something DIY-ed would move Donghyuck’s heart all the same. The following day he spent it fretting about almost everything: his looks, his (still non-existent) gift if Donghyuck really intended to invite him, or he should just feign an illness and skip the party entirely… the list went on.

It’s a miracle his brain hasn’t combust from all of the unnecessary and adverse thoughts Jaemin has repeatedly advised him not to spiral into, for it’s plainly obvious, it isn’t doing any good to his mental state.

There’s only a day left to the party, and Jeno looks to be giving up on almost everything, preferring to hole up in his room instead. This is the worst version of Jeno he has witnessed recently; the indecisive, preferring to wallow in negativity and self-pity kind, and Jaemin knows that is due to his inclination of putting too much thought and assuming the worst for everything. 

It has been going on for far too long, and intervention is way overdue. Jaemin had put it off as they were rushing for their deadlines, and since their final submission is done and dusted he deems it time. He unceremoniously barges into Jeno’s room and goes straight for his closet, pulling out a few clothes to hurl it on the motionless figure on the bed. “Get your ass out. Don’t come back until you find a present!” He orders hotly, hands propped on his hips.

Jeno stirs, eyes opening a fraction before it closes again. “Go away, Jaemin.”

“I can’t believe you.” Jaemin whines, dragging Jeno up by his arms, the boy limp and spiritless in his grip. “JENO!! COME ON!”

“Let me go…” Jeno bleats, trying to sway him away.

Jaemin shakes his arms violently, annoyed at his dejected state. “I can’t believe you! You’re throwing in the towel, acting like you are already rejected when you haven’t even made your feelings known!”

Jeno fidgets in his grasp. “It’s been a few years. I have tried, Jaem.”

“No Jeno, you haven’t.” Jaemin chastises, tone sharp. “I’m sorry to say this but two years of you dawdling around, subsequently backing out from telling Donghyuck how you really feel, feeling pitiful about yourself at the end is not at all considered trying.”

Jeno's bottom lip quivers and Jaemin feels he has just kicked a puppy. But he grits his teeth and drills on for his best friend’s sake.

“Jeno, please. Be brave.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do if he doesn’t feel the same way for me.”

Jaemin gripped Jeno’s hand tightly in his own. “Jeno, there are lots of couples out there that are not mutually soulmates, and they truly love each other all the same. I know you like Donghyuck and wish he would feel the same for you, but you will only find yourself stuck in this pickle if you don't find the courage to tell him about your feelings. Likewise, you will never know what he’s thinking as well.” Jaemin smiles softly. “You’re in pain because you avoid confrontation. But confrontation is sometimes the only solution to move ahead.”

Jeno peers up then, and a teardrop falls on his cheek.

“I know it’s not easy to overcome this.” Jaemin gently wipes the tear away, nodding his head encouragingly. “But years down the road, you’re only going to beat yourself harder and regret not trying.”

“Tell him.”

♫♫♫

By the time Jaemin and Jeno have reached Donghyuck’s apartment, the party looks to be already in full swing. Bright dancing lights appear from the window, and it’s accompanied by a light cheery tune seeping out from the door. Jeno stalls in front of the apartment, hands fidgeting on the cords of a gift bag. Till now, Jaemin hasn’t got a clue of the contents in the bag, but he didn’t need to know. When Jeno left their flat after his pep talk he came back in all smiles, so he assumed he found the right gift for Donghyuck.

He gave Jeno the once-over, satisfied with his handiwork. The boy has always been easy on the eyes, but his looks are diminished somewhat by the pair of nerdy round-rimmed glasses and oversized sweats he likes to wear on most days. But with Jaemin’s nifty fingers, he has made sure Jeno looks his best today; after all, he’s a man on a mission, and if the mission is a confession, he’s going to pull out all the stops to help him win the affections of his crush. He loaned him his favourite leather jacket to go along with Jeno’s black turtleneck, quickly looking up on YouTube for a video on ripping jeans. Jeno’s old pair are repurposed so he could put his perky butt and toned thighs to work. And boy, do they werk.

“I can do this… I can do this…” Jeno drills, repeating the words into his head. “I can fucking do this.”

“YOU CAN DO THIS!” Jaemin repeats enthusiastically, pressing the doorbell before Jeno decides to back out. “Now, give me your best-winning smile!”

Jeno cracks an uncertain smile just in time when the door swings open.

They turn their heads around, and Donghyuck is standing by the door, his appearance a jaw-dropping sight. He’s dazzling, and it’s not just because of the warm amber light encasing his form. On closer inspection, Jaemin realises the effect is owing to what looks like a small disco ball inside the apartment. Unsurprisingly, Jeno freezes on the spot, hypnotized. Tonight Donghyuck has dressed to kill, and Jaemin expects no less from him, he’s the birthday boy after all. He has makeup on, evident from the dark smoky lids and gloss on his lips, and his outfit… wow, it definitely rivals his work on Jeno.

Their mutual eye contact (Or should he say, eye fucking ) is getting a tad long that Jaemin snorts internally. Given that Donghyuck’s eyes are riveted on him, his glance lingering on Jeno’s legs for a good second before he swallows sharply, it shows how Jeno can be such a worrywart sometimes.

A cooling evening breeze blows past the doorway and Donghyuck shivers, his slightly sheer blouse doing absolutely the bare minimum in keeping him warm on a crisp autumn evening.

“Erm, earth to you two?” Jaemin coughs, clearing his throat.

That seems to do the trick, both of them jolting in surprise. Jaemin doesn’t miss the flush on Donghyuck’s cheeks, or the same crimson appearing on Jeno’s ears. Relieved, he smirks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Happy birthday, Donghyuck. You look really good today.”

“You do, you really do– I–I MEAN, happy birthday.” Jeno amends hastily. Donghyuck chuckles, shuffling to the side so they can enter. “Thank you guys, come in!”

They enter Donghyuck’s two-storey apartment and pass a few familiar faces, Jaemin and Jeno giving a few hugs and fist bumps along the way. Donghyuck’s living area is decorated in a theme of black and gold, countless foil tassels and balloons suspended on the ceiling. Huge shiny helium balloons that spell out “DH IS FKING 21” adorns the wall, which Jaemin suspects the words to be Chenle’s handiwork.

“–You’re fucking cheating, Jisung! Look, you threw the crust away!” Jaemin catches Chenle shrieking when Donghyuck brings them to the dining area. Alas, it seems they are having a competition of some sort.

“I–I dwin’t thro dat!’ Jisung barely says, his cheeks looking awfully stuffed with food.

Donghyuck glares at them with distaste. “Can’t believe they’re having a pizza eating competition on my birthday. I should have kicked them out when I had the chance.”

Chenle flashes him a finger. “None of these decorations will be hanging prettily without my help.”

“My help mostly, because you’re a midget.” Jisung retorts, finally swallowing the food in his mouth.

“WHAT DID YOU FUCKING SAY?!”

Donghyuck passes Jaemin and Jeno two red plastic cups, pointing towards the huge bowl of cocktail, deliberately ignoring the bickering couple. “Erm, a word of caution. The cocktail is lethal. Jisung messed up the recipe–”

“Donghyuck!” Someone on the other side of the apartment beckons for him.

“Hold on, give me a moment!” Donghyuck turns around to shout, returning to the conversation, or their conversation, Jaemin couldn’t tell. From the moment they stepped foot into the house Donghyuck doesn’t look to be addressing them both, eyes trained on Jeno the whole time. He’s slightly unfamiliar at being the third wheel, but no problem, he can learn. Jaemin carefully picks up his lint on his shirt, feeling his presence increasingly superfluous. Maybe he should participate in whatever moronic thing Chenle and Jisung are engaged in behind him.

“Erm, yeah. As I said, don’t touch the cocktail. Help yourself to the pizza, and please make yourself at home. I… I will be right back.”

“S–sure!” Jeno bobs his head ferociously.

Donghyuck leaves them and makes his way over to his friends, while Jaemin leans back on the marble counter, pulling a slice of pizza from the box. He munches and looks around the interior appreciatively. “Wow, this is a nice place. How much is the rent?”

“It’s alright,” Chenle lightly comments, his elbow propped on the marble surface, and he rests his chin. “Donghyuck and I share this place with another friend of ours, so the rent isn’t too costly. Being friendly with the landlord helps, as well. Donghyuck is exceptionally talented with that.”

Jaemin nods with a snort, looking back at Jeno. The guy hasn’t said half a word after Donghyuck left, mouth spread into a dumb giddy grin that replaces the overwhelmed and nervous expression he had a few minutes before.

“What’s with the silly expression, dumbass?”

“I think Donghyuck likes my outfit.” Jeno giggles, looking the most cheerful in weeks.

“You think?” Jaemin scoffs, pouring just a little of the cocktail to taste after Donghyuck’s warning. The alcohol hits the back of his throat instantly, his face puckering up at the strong acerbic taste.

“Woah, did you dump a whole bottle inside this?” He coughs unpleasantly, glaring at Jisung while the boy only shrugs unapologetically in response.

“Look closely, the vodka bottle is… here. Yup, see it?” Chenle stirs the liquid. Indeed, the glass bottle makes a presence, drifting up slightly before it sinks back down to the bottom of the bowl.

“Donghyuck only allows the guests one cup of the cocktail because he doesn’t want them to end up shit-faced drunk. He still has the cake cutting and the photo-taking, so he ordered us to stay here and ration the drink.”

An idea pops in Jaemin’s head, and he seizes the ladle from Chenle’s hands. “See, this is exactly what Jeno needs. He needs to loosen the fuck up so he can face Donghyuck later.”

“Really?!” Jisung peers at both of them in understanding. “He’s finally going to confess?”

“Wait, guys–” Jeno tries to hold Jaemin back when he tilts the red cup near his mouth. “I’m fine, I don’t need this–”

Chenle and Jisung are by Jeno’s sides in a split second, both holding his arms down as he tries to pull away from their caging grips.

“Good boy, now open up, ahhhhh…” Jaemin coos, squashing Jeno’s cheeks to make him open up his mouth despite the man’s squirming protests, lips still stubbornly sealed. Jisung jabs a finger into Jeno’s ribs and he jolts up in pain, his mouth involuntarily opening. “Ow–”

Jaemin easily dumps the drink into his mouth. A mere few seconds after Jeno chokes, coughs erupting when the liquid goes in too quickly. They release Jeno in a fit of laughter, the three of them raising their hands for high fives.

Jeno wipes the liquid on his chin, pouncing immediately to strike them in retaliation. “You motherfuckers!!”

“Ooooooh, the drink is already working!!” Jaemin cackles, skillfully evading Jeno’s fist, and the three descend into another round of giggles again.

—

One smashed cake on Donghyuck’s face, a cocktail bowl mysteriously emptied and six popped balloons later, the party officially came to an end. 

Jaemin should have thought twice on feeding Jeno that blasphemy of a cocktail, though it seemed Jeno was doing great, all things considered. He looked tipsy and walked weird, but he could still form coherent sentences, which was comforting. He was just a tiny bit worried that Jeno wouldn’t be sober enough for his confession, but it turns out his worries were unwarranted. He pulled him for a private second after he came out of the bathroom, jerking his head towards the gift bag hung on his wrist. “Jeno, don’t forget to give Donghyuck the present later.”

Jeno seemed to be processing for a moment, giggling eventually. “Oh, this?” Jeno said, shaking the bag disinterestedly. “It’s empty.”

For the love of God.

“It’s empty? Did you lose it?” Jaemin shrieked, looking everywhere for a thing that looked like a present. Fuck, it could be anything!

“Nah,” Jeno shook his head languidly and points to himself. Jaemin absolutely regretted feeding him that drink.

“I’m the present.”

Incredulous, Jaemin slapped him twice on his cheeks.

“Ow ow!” Jeno cried, rubbing his face gingerly. “I mean it, I’m the present!!!”

Fuck, the stores were already closed, and Jaemin didn’t have anything valuable with him. Perhaps he could pick something in this apartment and disguise it as a gift? He whipped his head around, searching for something suitable until Jeno pulled his arms for his attention.

“What?! I’m trying to help you out here, you procrastinating idiot–”

“I’m going to confess to Donghyuck and tell him he can have my passionate love as his birthday present. Isn't that romantic?”

"No," Jaemin almost retched there and then, ruffling his hair in exasperation. “No, that’s cheesy and moronic as fuck–”

“Jeno!” Donghyuck arrived suddenly, face clean of cake, and he wrapped his hand around Jeno’s arm. “I’ve got something to show you. Oh! Hi, Jaemin! Sorry, I need to borrow your best friend for a bit–”

“Wait–” Jaemin helplessly cried as Donghyuck tugged Jeno along without even caring for his reply, his best friend turning his head back to give him a thumbs up.

"Okay then." Jaemin sighs wearily, throwing his hands in resignation.

—

That was an hour ago.

He doesn’t exactly know at what point his friends have forsaken him. He knows Jeno disappeared with Donghyuck, probably somewhere on the second floor, but he hasn’t even noticed Chenle and Jisung vanishing without a trace. Jaemin hopes Jeno’s confession had been successful because he doesn’t know how he’s going to console the man if it's isn't.

Man, being the only person out of their group still painfully single is making him feel ambivalent, all things considered.

It’s ridiculous that it’s his first visit to Donghyuck and Chenle’s place and yet he bid the last of the party guests farewell like he actually lives here… seriously, he really can’t count on those two who are the ones paying rent. Johnny, another mutual acquaintance of theirs, is the cycling club president while also Donghyuck’s senior. Jaemin waves him goodbye from the porch, right until his car drives further away.

Peering up at the sky, he doesn’t spot a single blinking star, nor a hint of the moon. They must be somewhere behind the blanket of dark clouds, only revealing themselves when the overcast clears. Breathing in a deep breath, he relishes the crisp weather at this time of night. It’s not wintry enough to see the condensation of his breath when he exhales, but he welcomes the cold wind prickling his cheeks, invigorating after a whole chaotic night of activities. 

Out of a sudden, a harsh discordant music pops up from nowhere, well, not nowhere- nowhere, but in Jaemin’s mind, disturbing the peaceful silence. It’s one of his soulmate’s favourites, Miss Murder by AFI, and hearing it constantly it’s only natural he searched the title online. He finds the track alright on most days, but god, just not at this moment. It grates at his nerves, ruining the current mood that calls for tunes more dulcifying or laid back. He re-enters the apartment whining to himself about his tough luck when he hears it. 

Hears the song, not in his head this time, but coming from the stairs leading to the floor above. A million thoughts are running in his head, but all ends with… this surely ain’t a fucking coincidence.

His heart pumps uncontrollably along to the intense beat, fiercely hammering to the song as if he enjoys it; no, far from it, it’s because his intuition about the whole situation frightens him. The augmented effect is messing up his head; a feedback loop flooding his senses when the music he hears from above overlaps with the music echoing his mind. It’s becoming disorienting that he begins to doubt if he did hear the song coming from upstairs.

In quick thinking he scampers out of the house and takes the keycard lying on the shoe cabinet, going the extra mile, literally, by jogging across to the next block. At this spot, he hears only distant and muffled traffic from a far distance away.

The music, it’s still in his head.

Oh. my. fuck.

Walking back in quick strides Jaemin agitatedly chews at his nails. His gut feeling was right, the situation far too coincidental to be considered a fluke. He feels like he’s going to lose it; he is finally going to meet his soulmate, yet he’s entirely confused as to who could be the one playing music on the second floor of the house.

He quietly pushes past the door, the last verse of the music ending with a raucous tone. He takes the first step up the stairs, heart beating against his ribcage. Mouth turning dry, he trudged forward. What should I say?

Hi, I’m your soulmate. No, too direct.

Hi, I love you. Bleurgh, what the hell, that’s something Jeno would say, he admonishes himself, stepping up the last flight of stairs.

Hello, I’m Jaemin, and I’m your soulmate. 

Good Charlotte plays next as he walks towards the source of the music. It comes from a room at the very end of the floor, the door ajar with just a sliver gap. He’s wringing his hands because he doesn’t know where to put it; anticipation, panic, and joy all running high in his system, but his stride isn’t slowing.

A few more steps, and he’s going to meet his soulmate. A few more steps, and he’s going to meet the love of his life.

Jaemin counts to three when he reaches, knocking on the door. There’s a movement within instantly, and the music pauses. His heartbeat sounds louder than before.

The door opens, revealing his one and only, his soulmate, the one he has been waiting so long for–

“The party has already ended, why are you still here?”

He backs up a few steps as the stranger exits his room and closes the door. Strike with awe, he stares open-mouthed, rooted in the spot. In this proximity Jaemin realises the man isn’t quite a stranger, he has seen this person flitting around the house earlier, and he recognised him present for the cake-cutting (cake-smashing, he rectifies). Memories resurface, now recalling seeing him with Donghyuck on some occasions on campus. 

Relief courses through his veins. He had somewhat prepared himself for his soulmate to look a certain way, maybe copious amounts of black, rock band tees, a red checkered shirt on a good day, not this.

He looks soft and mellow decked in a simple cream oversized sweater that has sleeves engulfing his hands, and those sparkling brown eyes gazing up at him seems to have literal stars in them. Maybe that’s where all the stars tonight have been hiding. 

He’s tempted to commit his face to memory, barely starting on the high slope of his slender nose when the boy snaps his fingers right in front of his face for attention. Jaemin comes to his senses, only realizing then his jaw has been hanging the whole time.

“Are you alright dude? I’ve been calling you so many times and you’re just staring into space–”

Yeah, space as in outer space, the galaxy you have trapped in your eyes–

“God, you’re so drunk.” His soulmate groans when he assumes Jaemin has spaced out again, pulling him by his sleeves. “Let me get you some water, I guess you can sleep on the couch–”

“Do you know who I am?” Jaemin asks.

He is still pulling him towards the stairs, though Jaemin hears him scoff. “Yeah, pink-haired, has a reputation for rejecting confessions and breaking hearts left and right, yeah, I guess I do, Na Jaemin.”

Jaemin groans. “It’s really not how it sounds like.”

“It’s not my business, so don’t sweat about it.”

Jaemin stops on his tracks. “It matters! Because it’s you!”

Renjun glares at him behind his shoulder. “What kind of cryptic shit are you spewing now–”

“You’re my soulmate!”

“Yeah sure,” The boy huffs, trying to drag Jaemin downstairs. “So you’re those everyone is my soulmate kind of drunk huh–”

“The first song you regularly listen to in the morning is The Only Exception, you have an unhealthy obsession for Vindicated, and I prefer it when you listen to The Weeknd. Yeah, he’s gone all mainstream for your liking, that's why you only listen to his first few albums.” Jaemin says it all at once.

The grip on his sleeves slackens, and the man jerks his head back up, staring at him in mortification. He whips his hands away as though the contact burns him, quickly taking a step back. Their eyes are trained fixedly on each other, and Jaemin tries not to wilt under his unreadable stare. It’s unnerving not knowing what the guy is thinking when he has the blankest look on his face.

“That doesn’t mean a single thing to me.” 

Jaemin baulks at the caustic tone. His harsh and biting reply came like a lightning bolt that struck him right in the middle of his core, carving in and exploding him into shreds from inside out.

“You–”

“Take the couch. And you better leave in the morning.” He instructs point-blank, and he turns on his heels for his room instead.

“WAIT!! DUDE?!” Jaemin shrieks, distraught when the boy reaches the door, hand around the knob, and he scrambles to stop him. He wants answers for the boy’s blunt dismissal because he deserves at least an explanation for his behaviour, perhaps even a do-over as this had been nothing but an epic clusterfuck. “WHO ARE YOU?? WAIT STOP– I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME!!!”

His soulmate opens the door. “You say I’m your soulmate, but you don’t even know my name.” He clicks his tongue in disapproval.

Frustration unfettered at the turn of events, Jaemin stamps his feet in indignance as a last petulant resort. “DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE!!”

“I dare though, I live in this house.” He scoffs, unceremoniously closing the door shut on Jaemin’s face. 

And just like that, it concludes his first and eventful meeting with his soulmate.

♫♫♫

News travels fast, gossip travels faster. Undoubtedly talk of Jaemin being snubbed by his soulmate should travel at lightning speed on campus, and that’s thanks to his loose-lipped so-called friends who found it the most laughable that the guy who regularly rejects confessions has suffered from the same fate. Mark his words, he’s never sharing anything with them anymore. They have utterly betrayed his trust.

Over the recent humbling incident, Jaemin experienced a fair bit of things. He experienced humiliation, pity, loathing all at once, and there isn’t a moment now he doesn't regret his decision of a conspicuous hair colour when all he wanted immensely was to lie low and sulk in comfort. People have come over to offer words of sympathy, his cycling club seniors had laughed openly at his face; and to make matters worse, Jeno and Donghyuck are officially an item. He wholly detests them sucking face with every fibre of his being. 

After hearing Jeno recounted his confession, it turns out all this time Jeno and Donghyuck had complicated matters so spectacularly, both playing the guessing game of ‘Does my soulmate like me too?’. Jeno’s diffidence and mixed messages had fed on Donghyuck’s hesitance towards their relationship as he tried to figure out his intentions. This in turn fueled Jeno’s insecurities, which compounded and exacerbated into an emotional deadlock between both of them. Jaemin had screamed ‘told you so’ into Jeno’s ears; he had persuaded him to death that their issues could be easily remedied with a simple heart-to-heart, but it’s seemingly the hardest thing to do for the couple apparently.

Thankfully the couple prevailed in the end, and he’s perfectly alright that it’s all sunny and blue skies for them and he only has dark rumbling clouds and torrid rain for company. Perfect.

It seems the identity of his soulmate has generated much speculation, which indirectly brought on more prolonged turmoil then Jaemin preferred as it’s annoying to be constantly badgered for details. He preferred not to disclose since it appears that word of it never came out; he suspects his soulmate to be the one behind it since it’s surprising Chenle and Donghyuck are exceptionally tight-lipped this time round. He guessed his soulmate had his reasons for hiding it, thus he kept it concealed too. In some way, he feels obligated to do so until he decides his cause of action.

While he prefers to mope on solitude and lick his wounds, Jeno has other ideas; his deserving karma really, and he couldn’t even send back a retort when Chenle and Donghyuck entered their shared dorm with knowing glances and badly suppressed snickers. It’s excruciating to bear, and Jaemin just knows they must have heard something from his soulmate. 

As per Jeno’s demands, Jaemin begrudgingly recounted his story to his audience, namely Donghyuck, Chenle, the second time for Jisung who had heard the story with Jeno before today's meet up. Although Jeno insisted today's agenda was to hang out, it felt more it was just a session for them to poke fun at his plight. Peeved and perturbed, he didn’t enjoy sharing the deets with Donghyuck and Chenle. But Jeno was giving him the death stare, something he only displayed like once a year, and Jaemin conceded. It was the worst thirty minutes of his life. 

“Okay, you guys can laugh now, I see it on your faces.” Jaemin gripes. Now that everything's out in the open, he feels increasingly discomfited around them. He really shouldn’t have allowed Jeno to convince him on disclosing the incident. 

Because there can only be one idiot in this household, and he swears it's not him.

Besides, it’s clear they are nosy rather than legitimately trying to offer help.

Donghyuck purses his lips, swallowing a smile down. “As I said, I’m here to help! In exchange for sharing your exciting story and helping Jeno and me in our relationship, don’t you want to learn more about Renjun?”

Renjun. It’s his first time hearing the name said out loud. He knew the name through text when he wheedled it out from Jisung, but it wasn’t exactly a familiar name to pronounce correctly. He hates to admit; but he likes how it sounds, how the name rolls off interestingly on his tongue. 

“It’s alright.” Jaemin vehemently denies with a disregarding wave, and Chenle chortles, evidently seeing past his lie immediately.

“You’re giving up on the destined love of your life so easily?”

Jaemin glowers, irked. “Who says I am?”

“Then you need all the help you can get to get yourself acquainted. Do you know Renjun is in the badminton team, likes spicy food and desserts, and hates coriander with a passion? Chenle drills.

“Or the fact he is awfully competitive at games, or he curses like a sailor when he’s drunk and pretends he isn’t scared when he’s watching horror flicks?” Donghyuck contributes.

That…

That sounds fucking adorable.

Jaemin gulps, eyes darting back and forth at them. The position he’s unwittingly in, back pressed against the sofa while they’re both standing upright and smirking down at him is giving him the worst case of hibbie-jibbies. They have the same kind of grin that only curved up on one side; that special kind that radiated mischief, cocksure that they have successfully whet his interest.

And they were absolutely right.

—

Renjun flicks his wrist forward and fires up the shuttlecock, steadying his breath as he prepares for Yangyang’s returning shot. The opponent he’s paired with today is a known menace; matches against him demand him to be mentally and physically quicker since the boy’s stamina is one of the best in the team, and he knows how the boy is inclined to play on the explosive and aggressive side.

The rally continues for about five passes when Yangyang looks to be on the aggressive – racket aimed high and form pulling upwards – and Renjun has a split second to decide whether to sprint for the opposite direction or hold his ground. However, he recognizes a feint; the boy has such an obvious tell after playing with him the whole season, and Renjun’s lips involuntarily pull up into a smirk. He decides to hold his current position, and it's a good call; seeing how Yangyang’s stance shifts, his racket plunging to spike the birdie past the net and for the rear court.

He advances with effortless agility, shoes just barely squeaking against the wooden floor. Legs shifted in a downward lunge, the face of his racket meets the shuttle right before it hits the ground, shuttlecock smoothly propelling upwards over the net. Taken off guard, Yangyang sprints over, racket shooting out desperately to hit the shuttle, but it’s useless when the shuttle has already landed on the floor at his lapse of concentration.

The whistle blows, signalling the end of the match. The captain, Jaehyun, makes his way over with his folder, scribbling something before he looks up. “Good form, Renjun.” He comments, though the delivery is so monotonous Renjun can’t even decide if it’s a compliment or not. That’s just how their captain is with his team; imposing and firm in practice, but entirely different in demeanour when his soulmate – Sicheng, Renjun remembers, occasionally turns up for their practices to see them play. He didn’t know Jaehyun had dimples until he saw him smile so sweetly at Sicheng sometime back.

Jaehyun is the team’s first-ever captain, and that’s because the badminton club was only formed three years ago.

For a university like theirs that offers an extensive range of extracurriculars like People Watching Club to Hummus Club, you would think they would at least include a humble Badminton club. Speaks a great deal about the student demographics in their school… but he’s even not going to go there.

Yangyang throws Renjun a hand towel with a scowl on his face. “I don’t know how you saw through that. Do you live in my head or something?”

“I played doubles with you the whole of last year, give me some credit.” Renjun dabs his forehead with a snort. “It’s just... your tactics are so transparent it’s almost painful playing against you. Feels like I’m cheating for some reason.”

Yangyang glares, perturbed. “WHAT?”

Renjun snorts. “You have a tell. An obvious one in fact.”

Yangyang’s nostrils flare. “Tell. Me.”

Renjun takes his time and sips on his bottle. He languidly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand while Yangyang looks almost like he’s going to explode from his dawdling. “Stop sticking your tongue out whenever you’re deliberating over a move. If you unconsciously show your cards and your opponent sees through that, you’re only going to be playing to your detriment.” 

“Oh god,” Yangyang cries, pulling at his face. “Do I stick my tongue out, captain? Do I really do that unconsciously?”

A ghost of a smile passes their captain’s face. “Erm.”

Yangyang wails even louder that the hall is filled with the sound of his voice. “OH MY GOD!!! You guys knew and never said a single thing. We are a fucking team guys, qualifying is in a few months!!” 

With one curt nod Jaehyun beats a hasty retreat leaving them to survey the other match on the other side of the hall. It’s evident that Yangyang’s theatrics are too much for him to handle, and Renjun can’t honestly blame him. The boy can grouse till the cows come home. That’s how good his stamina is.

“You still have time to stop that habit.” Renjun shrugs noncommittally. He sorts through his duffel placed on the benches and pulls out his phone. Scrolling his unread texts, it’s mostly Donghyuck harping on how amazing his love life is, how utterly sweet Jeno is, yada yada. His best friend is originally a fool, but romance turned him into a bigger idiot.

“What’s that guy doing here?” Yangyang says suddenly.

“Who?” Renjun says uninterestedly, still scrolling on his phone.

“That campus hottie, what’s his name… I think… It’s Jaemin–”

At the sound of the name, Renjun whips his head up in surprise, trying to sport that pink mob of hair. He scans the surroundings, finally spotting the man at the far end of the hall. So it seems the guy has decided to dye his hair a jet black, something he privately approves, not like he cares how the guy looks, really. He could be bald for all he cares.

Jaemin looks to be coming over to their direction, and he panics. It appears the reason he’s here could be due to him, considering he’s walking directly towards them at this moment. He darts his eyes at Yangyang nervously, biting the insides of his cheeks. Jaemin shouldn’t even be here, what if people put two and two together–

“Gotta go– I… I have an errand to run.” Renjun hastily picks up his bag and takes off. He vaguely hears Yangyang yelling at him in the background, but he’s already quickening to a jog. He waves goodbye to a few of his teammates when he passes them, stealthily looking over his shoulder to check if Jaemin is trailing. He still is, and his strange appearance has already attracted some curious glances. Renjun swears under his breath and speeds up his pace. 

The automatic doors slide open when he exits the training hall. He makes a right turn for the bathrooms, thinking it might be a good place to evade him, but it’s looking rather packed to even attempt finding an empty cubicle to hide. In quick thinking Renjun diverts from his original plan and heads for the equipment room on the left, pushing the door open. Within seconds a shadow trails behind him, and he sticks his hand out to pull him by the sleeves before locking the door.

“What are you doing here?!” Renjun hisses crossly. Taken off guard Jaemin backs up, wide-eyed.

“I– I just wanna talk! Donghyuck said your practice ends at five, so I thought I could, erm, you know, have a chat with you after your training!” Jaemin bleats, chastened.

Lee Donghyuck. Just wait till I get home.

Renjun groans, vexed. He’s definitely not looking his best; his sweaty bangs are plastered on his forehead, and his clothes are drenched with sweat. Furthermore, hiding in the dark and dank equipment room is making him slightly claustrophobic and queasy. It doesn’t help that Jaemin has his eyes fixated on him the whole time, and it’s causing him to feel slightly self-conscious. 

“What? Is there dirt on my face?” He snaps.

Jaemin shakes his head in protest. “No! It’s just, I saw you play, and you… You were great.”

“Thanks,” Renjun mutters half-heartedly. “So, you said you’re here to talk. What about?”

Jaemin looks down on his shoes sheepishly, the question seemingly making him uncomfortable right away. Even with the room unlit, Renjun could see the hesitation reflected in his eyes. He sighs inwardly and promises not to be too hard on him. It's not the man's fault he has him as his soulmate. It’s pretty unfortunate luck, all things considered.

“Well… Erm. I think we need to seriously talk about our… er… relationship.”

Swallowing intently with a curt nod, Renjun contemplates of a way to break it to him. Unlike Jaemin who seems to be fixated on the idea of soulmates, he doesn’t give a solid damn about the whole perfect-love business. Sure, appearance-wise Jaemin is attractive to most, with his doe-like eyes and thick full eyelashes, and he’s even blessed with a towering height that puts his own to shame. He hardly knows the man except by word on the grapevine, so in effect, he knows absolutely nothing about the man destiny calls as his one and only soulmate. It’s ludicrous even imagining the thought of falling in love, absurd to submit to this blind faith and be dictated by it, not when this is supposedly about the person he will be with for the rest of his life. Looking into Jaemin’s eyes is he supposed to get butterflies in his stomach, or feel fireworks, or whatever poetic nonsense writers have come out with all these centuries? Because all he registers is his stomach growling, his legs sore from the training. He’s hungry, tired, and he just wants to go home to beat the living daylights out of Donghyuck.

“Er, Jaemin, you see–”

Renjun’s interrupted when there’s chatter approaching, ears picking up voices. Now if both of them are caught in this… compromising situation, there’s no telling what people might think. His mind goes into overdrive, eyes scanning urgently around the space. At the back of the room are a few shelves cluttered with numerous sports equipment, a hiding spot that will have to do considering their situation. Renjun hastily grasps Jaemin by his wrist, dragging him to the back right as the door swings open, managing to hide just in time before the click of the switch. The room is awash with light instantaneously, and Renjun puts a finger on his lips in warning when Jaemin peers towards the strangers curiously.

“What did the coach wants again?” One of Renjun’s juniors pipes.

“The nets and a few of the court cones, dumbass. Have you forgotten already??”

“Oh, shut your face–”

It is a tight fit for the two of them to be hiding between shelves, their bodies inches away from each other. Renjun tries to steady his breath; too nervous at getting caught, he places his hand on his chest to calm himself down. The thrumming is still as loud, and it’s only then he realises it wasn’t just his heart that was hammering. He darts his eyes up and finds Jaemin looking awfully tense, face scrunched up like he’s in some form of discomfort. 

He follows his eyes down to his soaking attire, and Renjun groans inwardly, a realization forming in his head then. Oh god, he wishes he had sprayed more cologne in the morning. He must be reeking if Jaemin is looking like he’s gonna faint any second. Do I... do I smell that bad?

“I’m sorry, I know I smell, I had four hours of training. Just bear with it a bit more.” He whispers, looking utmost apologetic, and embarrassed to look so unkempt in front of his soulmate. 

Wait, why should I give a rat's fuck about what my soulmate thinks?

How about we skip using soulmate altogether, Renjun mulls, brows scrunched up.

As he's battling in his thoughts Renjun wouldn’t have known that odour would be far from Jaemin’s mind presently. Unlike what he assumed, Jaemin’s pinched expression was entirely because he was flustered by their proximity, so close he could even feel his breath against his chest. His heart unwittingly quickened whenever Renjun glanced up in his direction, struck rigid by his profile. 

“Well,” Jaemin’s lips curve into a slight grin, his body shaking slightly from amusement that it causes the shelf to rattle slightly. Renjun widens his eyes in shock, hands in mid-air, frozen stiff. Thankfully, his juniors don't seem to have heard the sound, still focusing on their job at hand. Surveying them intently, he doesn’t notice Jaemin inching in further, until the tip of his nose brushes his cheek slightly.

He flinches at the contact, almost pulling out a punch until he stops himself. The only reason he didn’t just smack the fuck out of the sleazeball is all thanks to his unwitting juniors; he daren’t make a sudden sound or movement that may attract their attention. God, it takes all the effort in him not to enact violence right there and then.

What's with this man?!

Renjun glares murderously, hissing under his breath. “I swear–”

“You smell nice. Reminds me of something floral, but not the fresh ones of course, maybe like the half-withering ones that are three days old.” Jaemin quips, beaming from ear to ear.

That’s the stupidest thing he’s heard all week. “Is that a compliment or an insult–”

Darkness envelops them again when the lights are suddenly turned off, the door latching shut with a dull thud. Renjun slowly pops out his head and surveys the space. Realizing the kids have already left the room, he scrambles away from their hiding spot immediately, putting as much distance from Jaemin. “God, this is like the worst place to talk.”

“You pulled me in here.” Jaemin points out.

“I know, I know!” Renjun grumpily kicks one of the stray tennis balls on the floor. “So, erm, this talk. Can we discuss elsewhere? Like somewhere… er… downtown? Maybe, tomorrow?”

Jaemin’s face lit up, awfully thrilled. “Is this… Is this a date?”

Renjun baulks, pointing his index menacingly, though Jaemin looks far from intimidated by the wide curl of his lips. “Na Jaemin, get this clear, it’s not a date. I’m only agreeing to this because you wanted to talk, and I guess it’s better if we sort things out. Don’t make me have second thoughts about this.”

Talk about having a flair for the dramatics. Renjun rolls his eyes when Jaemin staggers dramatically, hand clutching on his chest. “Wow, way to break your soulmate’s heart twice. I was just kidding!”

Renjun ignores him and adjusts his bag on his shoulder, walking towards the door. “I will contact you about the place and time later. One more thing, please don’t tell anyone we’re meeting.”

“You have my number?” Jaemin grows confused, brows furrowed. “Wait, why do I have to keep this a secret? Are you ashamed that I’m your soulmate or something?”

No, I'm not ashamed, I just don't even care.

“It’s–” Renjun mulls for a decent explanation. “I just like to keep things private.”

“So, I can’t tell Jeno about this?” Jaemin frowns.

“Nope,” Renjun emphasises with a loud pop.

“But how are you going to get my number?” Jaemin asks incredulously.

“The same way you got mine.” Renjun rolls his eyes, hand already on the door handle. “Don’t act so surprised. I’m sure Donghyuck or Chenle already gave you my number.”

“Erm,” Jaemin mutters, proving Renjun’s point.

Renjun snorts, cursorily waving a hand goodbye. “See you tomorrow.”

The door closes, and Jaemin releases a sigh.

"Damn."

♫♫♫

Jaemin is early for their meetup at this outmoded cafe he’s never been to before, and it hasn't been easy locating this place since it’s off the beaten path of the city. The interior is sparingly decorated, and the furniture and decorations definitely have seen better days. Except for an elderly man currently snoozing on a sofa, he’s the only customer in the little coffee shop. Muse’s Supremacy blares louder than the oldies coming from the scratchy old speakers, reverberating loud as he mulls. Mulls over the past few days’ events, quickly gathering that Renjun is the most complex individual he has ever met. Really.

But Jaemin’s only two encounters with him also help define a fair bit of things. The first is his music choices, which, after knowing him, isn’t surprising anymore. On the first impression, Renjun seemed like the type that likes folk or country, those god-awful tiresome genres, but the moment the boy speaks it’s like he breathes fire, which is absolutely fitting considering his music preferences. Yet, there are instances when that heavy grunge and rock beats are occasionally mixed with the most euphonious and harmonious tunes, and such situations aptly reflect his day-to-day temperament. His mood swings like a roller-coaster of extreme high and lows, and Jaemin’s just the unwitting and ill-fated loser taken for a ride.

The weird thing is, he ain’t even mad!

The second thing curious about Renjun is the fact Jaemin knows almost close to nothing about him. Although Renjun is rather active in school and his curricular activities he also keeps his personal life pretty private, just like he said back in the equipment room about preferring to keep things discreet. There was barely any information on him, and he wasn’t in any of the social apps. It took close to two hours of lurking for Jaemin to definitively conclude that the boy honestly didn’t care much about being connected online.

It’s just… He wishes to know him better. He bet Renjun's cold reaction was due to rumours circulating that are rubbish and untrue, and it sucks he knows nothing except for the stuff Donghyuck and Chenle told him the other day. At least Jeno and Donghyuck were already familiar since they were from the same high school. Jisung and Chenle practically grew up together with their bickering and fights. Both Renjun and him are practically strangers.

He leisurely browses his phone to kill time. Despite Renjun leaving his Kakao stickers and cute puppy gifs on read it still brings a smile on his face and glancing around the cafe he can’t help feeling thrilled even though Renjun specifically mentioned this-is-not-a-date. It had been so long since he was out in such an event; besides, date or not, he had been imagining this day of hanging out with his soulmate for the longest time. Please, it’s highly justified!

Mr Brightside blares in his head as he waits, fingers tapping along to the music. The song is almost nearing the end when the door swings open, Renjun appearing just then. He plucks out one of the earbuds to greet the elderly owner cheerily, seemingly acquainted with the woman. Renjun is wearing the fluffiest white cardigan now that the weather has gone cold, and he looks fresh, well, fresher than the last he saw him. It brings out a chuckle recalling the boy being awfully apologetic of his odour when there wasn’t any in the first place. Jaemin couldn’t help but tease him.

He’s snapped out of his reverie when both Renjun and the elderly woman abruptly turn their heads towards his direction, and he’s taken aback when they simultaneously break out in laughter. The elder pats Renjun on his cheek gently before she nudges him along.

“Hello. You’re early.” Renjun says, plucking out the other remaining earbud in his ear before he takes a seat across him.

“The last song, Mr Brightside? I like it.” Jaemin comments casually, pointing at his earbuds.

Renjun arches a brow. “I was still doubtful if you’re my soulmate, but I guess you’re really... the one.” He emphasises the last bit with a sardonic grin. “Though I can’t imagine anyone but you listening to Madonna and Gaga on the regular.”

Jaemin blushes. “Come on, you have all the time in the future to tease me, just not now.”

An indecipherable expression crosses Renjun’s face, but it smoothly disappears when he picks up the weathered-looking menu. “Mrs Kim makes the best tea cookies and jujube tea. Do you prefer the same set?”

Jaemin had barely nodded when Renjun broke out a yell without warning, and he involuntarily flinched in reflex. “Mrs Kim, the usual order, two sets please!” 

Jaemin chews on the inside of his cheeks, perplexed. It’s getting a little repetitive now, the jitters and flustering. He's never been that easily tense; it's something that he sees on Jeno often, just not him. He collects himself, channelling the cool within him. That's better.

“You must visit this place often,” Jaemin speaks after the elderly woman calls out a similarly boisterous reply and busies herself in the kitchen.

“I knew Mrs Kim ever since I was a child. My mum always brings me around to visit her whenever she has time.”

“That sounds sweet.” Jaemin truthfully says. It’s really, really nice hearing something about Renjun that isn’t disclosed by Donghyuck or Chenle. It’s like both of them are starting to warm up to each other. He grins, twiddling his thumbs. “I’m glad we’re having this dat– I mean meeting.”

Renjun purses his lips but doesn’t make any comment to that. Mrs Kim totters to them, a metal tray loaded with little plates of sweets and pastries in hand, and Renjun immediately shoots up from his seat to help her with the load.

“Mrs Kim, this is too much!!” Renjun complains, trying to return some back into the tray, but the woman slaps his hand

“Nonsense. Both of you are too skinny!” Mrs Kim nags, clicking her tongue in displeasure. “There’s your jujube tea over at the counter, fetch that for me, will you?”

Renjun squarely snaps his fingers at Jaemin, head nudging towards the kitchen. “Come on, do your part here!”

“R–right!” Jaemin shrieks (again), scampering towards the counter. He quickly finds the tea and takes it to their table safely.

“Enjoy.” Mrs Kim beams, collecting the metal trays. “Let me know if you like anything else, I can pack it for both of you.”

“No thanks.”

“Ingrate.” She chides, slamming the metal tray on Renjun’s back. “I shall leave you two be, your handsome friend here looks desperate for some time alone with you anyway.”

Jaemin opens his mouth to protest, but Renjun shakes his head, impatient. “Let’s just tuck in. I’m famished.”

He nibbles on a sesame-filled pastry, sneaking a furtive glance at Renjun as they eat in silence. The boy drinks in the quiet like it’s a perfect pairing to his tea cookies, already on his second piece, absolutely no qualms about the quietness filling the air between them. On the other hand, Jaemin hates silence. He’s grown up with music, background noises and garrulous chatter. The quiet makes him jittery. It makes his teeth clatter. Quiet is disquieting.

“So… I hope you find my music a breath of fresh air?” Jaemin clears his throat, posing any question that comes to his head immediately.

Renjun snorts. “Sure. I do like some Gaga in between my metal.”

“Ahh.” Jaemin can only say.

“But I’m really in no position to judge. I think you have it worse.”

Jaemin chuckles, tension dissipating somewhat. “The months after Melopsychism was tough, not going to lie. But... I’ve always been curious of your music tastes...”

Renjun bristles. “Do I need to have a reason to like what I like?”

“I don’t mean to be offend–”

Renjun sighs. “I’m sorry. Out of everyone l know, you probably have all the right to ask me such questions.”

Jaemin suppresses a smile as Renjun’s eyes widened, recalling something in his head. “Dude. I still remember the first-ever song of yours when I turned sixteen. It was the most appalling thing I've heard.”

What was I listening to? Britney? Queen? Mum’s Elvis? Jaemin racks his brain, but nothing significant turns up. “Wow, I don’t remember!” He admits sheepishly. “What was it?”

“Justin fucking Bieber.” Renjun shudders, shooting him a revolted glare. Jaemin tosses his head up, brimming in hysterics.

“Now, I legitimately thought my soulmate is a woman, and that would have fucking suck because I was pretty sure I am gay,” Renjun adds as an afterthought, sipping his tea.

That’s news. “You’re gay?”

Renjun cocks his head. “You’re not?”

Jaemin hums. “I don't think it matters to me."

Renjun nods in understanding. “Oh. That’s pretty cool.”

There. Jaemin senses an opening in their conversation. “So… What do you think will happen between us after today?” He conveniently probes, testing the waters.

The pastry breaks in Renjun's hands. Brows pulled together in a foreboding fashion, he wordlessly pats off the crumbs.

“Do you want the truth?” Renjun asks, frightfully serious in a split second.

Big mistake right there, Jaemin’s brows involuntarily mimics Renjun’s. He has a sinking feeling this is not going where he thinks it’s going. “Erm. I guess?”

“I know you strongly believe in a soulmate union, this so-called… everlasting and sacred love that the universe has somehow planned for each of us, I respect that. But I honestly don’t care about such… ideals.” 

Jaemin pales.

Fuck. It’s really fun and smiles for a bit until it isn’t. 

“What are you saying?” Jaemin huffs a breath, hands starting to get clammy. “Go our separate ways and find love elsewhere?”

“You will find someone better, I swear.”

“But you’re already the perfect one there is!” Jaemin counters hotly.

Renjun eyes him incredulously, erupting in a sardonic laugh. “Okay. Let me tell you a story.” He clasps his hands together, the mood turning grim in just a split second. “My parents were soulmates. Motivated by their unfaltering love for each other, my mum ran off with my dad and followed him here to an utterly new and foreign place, and she was only twenty-one. Such passion and devotion, the only perfect love it seems, but what use is perfect when my father left my mother when I was seven?”

Jaemin stares, mouth agape as cold sinking dread builds up in his chest. 

“I thank my lucky stars every single day my mum didn’t abandon me as my father did.” Renjun comments, gaze steady as he continues his tale. “My father broke her heart to pieces, but fate played her life like a sick and twisted joke because she still hears the music, the songs they listened to together when it occasionally filters into her mind, like she wasn’t tormented enough already. Sometimes, I still catch her cry at night when she thinks I’m asleep.”

“I–” Jaemin swallows. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s all in the past.” Renjun dismisses. “So, casting the soulmate bullshit aside, would you have liked me, or spared me another look if you saw me down the street?”

“I would–”

Renjun shakes his head intensely. “Don’t lie to yourself, you wouldn’t. You’re behaving like this because fate decides we’re soulmates, period, and you deem it fitting to put your blind trust in such a flimsy notion.” 

"NO!” Jaemin denies profusely, frustration mounting. “It’s not like that–”

“What do you think?” Renjun questions offhandedly, counting his fingers. “I have a nasty temper, and I’m awfully self-centred, and god forbid I commit to a relationship. Truth be told, I’m open to hooking up if someone catches my eye. So if I arrive at your doorstep years later saying I’m finally ready to do this soulmate nonsense, do you still welcome me with open arms then?”

Jaemin hardened in a burst of rage, jaw clenching up. It’s hard to swallow the anger, hearing him speak of their bond so vulgarly like it’s worth nothing. The uncouth and sardonic remarks that are akin to acid – burning, searing; wow, Renjun intended for him to hurt, and he has succeeded. “Do you need to be such an ass?”

“No, I’ve actually barely scraped the surface.” Renjun carries on, unperturbed. “See, this is what blind devotion does. It is making you deluded and irrational. You only see what you want to see. You ignore the cracks, the flaws, or the incompatibility–”

“I GET IT ALRIGHT?” Jaemin growls, expression taut. “I get it, so you can stop now.”

Lowered to almost a baritone, Jaemin’s voice goes all gravelly at the end, and Renjun snapped his mouth shut when he sensed the tense mood. His work is done, and he starts counting the seconds.

One, two, three. Come on.

Jaemin glares fixedly at his cup. Four, five, six.

Seven. Eight. Nine… Ten?

In the next seconds that followed Renjun’s proven wrong. He had expected Jaemin to react explosively and cause a scene, even better, start spewing abuses at him. He had banked on those reactions as it would give him the reason to condemn his behaviour, leave the cafe, and pretend nothing today has ever happened. Instead, the boy is giving no trace of feeling or emotion after his initial outburst, which is frankly unsettling. He had spoken the truth about his parents, something he hadn’t even told anyone about. Even though his delivery was a tad acrimonious he meant every word, his disapproval of the whole soulmate agenda entirely honest to prove his point.

Unbeknownst to him, anger does rage within Jaemin, hard not to, when years of expectations and hopeful desires come crashing down in this little antique wreck of a cafe. Despair was welling up in Jaemin’s chest, anguish festering into resentment, but he remembers what his mother always taught him: never to act on emotions, especially in sadness or anger. Even if his pride is wounded, dignity taken a beating, he pulls himself together, quelling the anger in favour of rationality, contemplating his next move. For once, he enjoys the silence to think, to plan his actions.

All is not lost. 

Besides, he has nothing of value to lose anyway.

“So… Does that mean you’re not opposed to dating me?” Jaemin points out from nowhere.

“Yea– WHAT?!” Renjun does a double-take, disbelief transforming his features. “D–dude… Are you being serious? Is that all you got from what I said?”

“But I heard it loud and clear.” Jaemin retorts. “I mean what I asked. You asked me if I would be willing to accept you even with all your flaws. Yeah, sure. Easy peasy.”

Renjun’s eyes widened incredulously. “It… It was just an example!”

“I’m totally fine if you wanna hook up with other people, I’m not a fucking prude. You can go on dates, do one night stands, have friends with benefits, whatever floats your boat.” Jaemin continues, playing the same cards. “In between whoever you choose to have flings with, I suggest considering me as an option as well. Wouldn’t that be sweet?”

Renjun baulks, his control over the conversation quickly slipping away. It’s prevalent for people to date around before their soulmate comes along, but when soulmates discover each other, it’s a controversial discussion altogether. Society deems it derogatory and distasteful to engage in relationships with other people when a person’s soulmate is already known, and close-minded folks still faithfully follow the archaic and messed up system to a tee. Renjun doesn’t subscribe to that in the slightest. He’s not saying he’s going to whore around at first opportunity, god no, he’s not a fucking harlot. It’s just… he didn’t agree that people would just… settle with the circumstances assuming it’s ideal and ignoring their differences just because fate says we are soulmates and that means we are perfect for each other. Period.

He had always the sinking suspicion his soulmate is one of those naive and simple-minded kinds. His preference over those old sappy tunes that sings of perfect love and adoration was very good hints.

So it’s hard to determine whether Jaemin is being honest or he was just being sarcastic– if it’s the latter, it’s a small matter, but he fears it’s the former. Watching him curiously, Jaemin is too calm and resolute. In anxiousness, he taps his feet agitatedly under the table, stomach twisting in turmoil. Fucking hell. This conversation has taken an absolutely weird turn. And he thought he had the upper hand!

“What do you demand of me?” Renjun cries. “I don’t love you Jaemin. I don’t know how to say this any simpler.”

“I don’t expect you to fall fucking head over heels for me immediately, are you crazy?” It’s Jaemin’s turn to howl exasperatedly. “We barely know each other. I’m not forcing you to immediately commit or anything like that!”

“Then what the hell do you want?!” Renjun demands again.

Jaemin thinks of something in haste. "We can date."

"I don't want to date you, no offence."

Jaemin blinks in frustration. That was very offensive, and he has taken offence, thank you very much. He's not going to brood over the implications of that, a losing fight clearly if he tries to convince the man to date him. He needs another angle.

Jaemin chews on his bottom lip. “F–friends. Yes. We can start as friends.”

“Friends,” Renjun repeats dryly. “You sure you’re hearing yourself? You’re alright being friends with me when I’m your soulmate? I don’t think you can stomach that.”

“Sometimes you can love a soulmate but not romantically.” Jaemin beams his best I-friend zoned-myself-but-everything-is-fine smile. Does he believe the bullshit he just pulled out of nowhere? Fuck no. But does he want them to be friends? OF FUCKING COURSE!!! 

Soulmate or no soulmate, this is how Jaemin works out in his head in haste. Instead of cutting off all ties, there’s merit in starting as friends. Yep, he can do friendships, the like. It’s easy. Moreover, there’s no saying what could happen between them in the future. He’s sure he can make Renjun change his mind after they become closer. There’s no need to hurry. The future is for those who know how to wait.

“You’re impossible.” Renjun shakes his head. He can’t keep up with the way the man’s behaviour, it’s so off-centred that his head is all befuddled now. “I got to hand it to you.”

“I’m tenacious. That’s just one of the many strengths you will learn about me real soon.” Jaemin supplies easily, a small sigh of relief escaping when Renjun doesn’t seem opposed to a friendship.

Renjun rolls his eyes. “If you say so, soulmate.”

The jibe was obviously deliberate.

—

“Junnie.” Donghyuck moans disappointedly.

Renjun winces at the disapproving tone; he’s heard it so often, the underlying meaning ranging from– what have you done now Renjun, to wow, I didn’t know you’re a bigger idiot than I imagine. 

He has shared the details of what Jaemin and he have discussed in Mrs Kim’s cafe earlier, and he’s sure they are going to chew him out the next second. Squeezing his eyes, he braves for impact.

“It’s only fine for you because you got what you wanted. Did you ask Jaemin what he wanted?”

Renjun makes a low strangled noise. “He just said he wanted to talk about our relationship, and I just–”

“Jump the gun.” Chenle kindly words. Renjun glares daggers, and Chenle reciprocates with an impressive unimpressed shake of his head.

“I didn’t know your distrust over the whole issue was partly due to what happened to your parents!” Donghyuck chides, crossing his arms. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“Because you guys would think I only rejected Jaemin because of some childhood trauma, of what happened to my mother. And it’s not all due to that!”

“What then?”

Renjun darts his eyes back and forth at his friends, hands gesturing around wildly. He has opened up too big a can of worms with no way of undoing. “Like… I’ve told you a thousand times. I don’t care for a soulmate when I barely even know them! I just think it’s a ridiculous idea to accept whatever fate decided to assign to me!”

“You can’t stop God’s will,” Chenle argues.

“They haven’t met my will yet.” Renjun ripostes.

“Such a fucking smartass you are, Renjun.” Chenle throws up his hands.

“Alright,” Donghyuck cuts them off, dropping into Renjun’s chair as a small frown plays on his lips. “Using back the same line of thought that you used against him, imagine a scenario where Jaemin is not your soulmate. Will you be so opposed to him then?”

"It's not the same–"

"ANSWER THE QUESTION."

“I–” Renjun struggles to say, a lump rising in his throat. “I guess not, but–”

“So you simply dismiss him because he's your soulmate."

Renjun sputters. “I–”

Donghyuck waves his hand dismissively. "You can be many things Junnie, but I've never placed you as a hypocrite. Now then, I think you deserve a sleepless night mulling over this anyway because deep down, you know you had been pretty unfair to Jaemin. Good night.”

And they saunter off, leaving Renjun awfully stricken with what seems to be a bubbling sense of guilt. 

♫♫♫

Before the temperatures drop even lower till they have to postpone their cycling sessions to late spring, Jaemin and Jeno decide to bring their bicycles out for one last spin. It’s so soothing to bathe in the picturesque sights and passing scenery, eyes soaking in the rich scarlet and golds as they cycle through an avenue of maple trees. The bed of dried leaves crinkle and crunch satisfyingly as they pedal past, while more floats gracefully with the gentle breeze, almost like nature’s own radiant display of confetti.

He had missed this; cycling to take his mind off things, and Jeno as his cycling buddy. It’s been a while actually, hanging out, just the two of them. He swears he doesn’t blame Donghyuck for occupying much of his best friend’s time now they are a pair, it’s just… recently it feels they're rather out of touch with each other as they spend lesser time together.

Jeno must have the same idea as well if the ramen and corn dog treat is any indication.

They have cycled for about an hour till a convenience store at the end of the tree-lined street comes to view, their stomachs growling in favour for a snack break. Jaemin gnaws at the corn dog like a rabbit, and he earns a throaty chuckle. “You’re so weird.”

Jaemin makes a noncommittal grunt. “Hmm. I get that pretty often recently.”

Jeno shakes his foot leisurely. “From Renjun, I presume.”

“Mhm.” Jaemin remarks, not adding any further.

While Jaemin had been pretty invested in Jeno’s adventures and tribulations at courting Donghyuck, he already knew Jeno wouldn’t react the same way, since the guy isn’t a nosy person by nature. Jeno only knew the gist of the events such as his predicament over Renjun’s unwillingness to accept their bond, and the uncertainty of him ever deciding to be together in the future. It’s all just filled with lots of questions no one has the answers for. Well, maybe Renjun has the answers, but that doesn’t mean Jaemin wants to know. 

“What are you going to do now?”

That’s the question he asks himself all the time as well.

“I don’t know,” Jaemin replies truthfully. “Time will tell, I hope.”

“Can’t believe this slipped past my mind.” Jeno snorts, steam fogging up his glasses as he sips his coffee. “What was your first reaction when you realised Renjun is your soulmate?”

Jaemin purses his lips up in thought. The immediate thing that comes to mind is those uncompromising eyes.

“Just an overall sense of relief. And confusion. Lots of confusion.”

“Because he’s not the emo goth boy you were expecting?”

Now he’s sure Jeno’s making a joke at his expense. It’s a running joke between them; when he was sixteen and Melopsychism happened, he has shared to him that all his soulmate listens to is emo rock, and Jeno laughed at his predicament for days. “Jaeminnie is going to date a little emo boy!” Sixteen-year-old Jeno mocked, and Jaemin had scrambled after him in their high school canteen.

“Shut up.” Jaemin rolls his eyes, chewing the last bit of his corn dog. He peels away the lid of his cup noodles and blows a breath into the cup.

“Donghyuck mentioned he had a serious talk with Renjun.”

Jaemin frowns. “He needn’t have.”

“Well, he has said his piece anyway, so it’s a done deal.” Jeno shrugs. “Renjun comes off stubborn and decisive with what he deems right, but he's really all bark but no bite. You need a lot of patience and time if you decide to pursue him… romantically, I mean.”

“I suppose.” Jaemin ponders. Something about what he told Renjun has been on his mind, and honestly, it isn’t that wrong of a point in itself. “Well, all soulmates don't have to end up in a romantic relationship, do they?” 

“Sure,” Jeno replies matter-of-factly, considering with a knit of his eyebrows. “It can be totally platonic if you don’t feel like holding him in your arms, and can’t care less about kissing him, don’t feel the butterflies in your gut when he’s looking at you. Or when his happiness isn’t much of a priority to you, and you don’t hope for him to only look your way. But I think that's exactly what you seek, don't you?"

Jaemin drums his fingers on the table. He doesn’t mention Jeno had hit the nail on his head, that those sparkling brown eyes are what comes to mind in that instant, and interestingly, he really thinks he could imagine experiencing all those things with Renjun if only the boy lets him.

—

Once is an inconvenience, twice is an annoyance, third time’s and he’s so fucking done. As if Prof Choi’s lesson isn’t painful enough to endure already, if Jaemin spots another strawberry milk on his desk in the morning he’s seriously going to hurl it across the hall, good fucking riddance. He had received the milk for three lectures in a row, and it has been souring his mood for weeks as if his mood isn’t already on the low range.

Jeno had taken one glance at the milk and snortled.

It must be the work of a secret admirer, and clearly, the person has clearly failed at learning his likes and dislikes. The top two things he despises are strawberry and anything dairy, and the creation of strawberry milk is, in fact, an abomination of the world. He guesses it must be one of those girls in the front. Displeasure written all over his countenance, he had looked intimidating, and they hadn’t made eye contact once.

After their class, they made their way towards the canteen where the rest are already waiting at their usual table. While Jaemin, Jeno and Jisung usually have their lunches together Chenle joins them frequently as well, but Donghyuck and Renjun are relatively new additions.

And there are times Renjun would invite Yangyang along, the same boy Jaemin recalls seeing in the badminton hall previously. His mood immediately dips when he sees both of them laugh heartily at something on Yangyang's phone, not missing when Yangyang lingers a hand on Renjun's arm for a tad too long.

“Here, have this.” Jaemin throws Jisung the strawberry milk, not missing the way Renjun looks over at them.

“I like free food, but strawberry milk again?” Jisung scrunches his nose distastefully. “Do you have banana milk instead?”

“Tell that to my secret admirer.” Jaemin remarks with a huff. He has deliberately said it to attract Renjun’s attention, wanting to see his reaction. He doesn’t achieve more than an arched brow that smoothened the next second.

“But it’s so silly. Wouldn’t he or she have known I hate strawberry milk? At the very least, I feel like they should have known that if they want to attract my interest.” Jaemin frowns.

“Oh come on, cut that poor person some slack.” Jeno reprimands. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Chenle grabs the bottle with a snicker, juggling it in his hands. “But I agree with Jaemin, I think a secret admirer should have known you hate strawberry milk. I think this was from someone else.”

Jaemin tilts his head, barely understanding. “Who then?”

Chenle and Donghyuck share a glance and start to erupt in little giggles, while Renjun is stiffly quiet, lips set in a fine line.

“Maybe it could be someone who owes you an apology,” Chenle explains.

“Or someone who might be regretful and wanted to make amends,” Donghyuck adds

Jaemin blinks repeatedly as he tries to think of a person that fits the descriptions. 

Maybe…

“You bought me that?” Jaemin peers up at Renjun, perplexed, but very pleased. 

Renjun looks to be vibrating with anger? Embarrassment? Jaemin couldn’t tell, but his face is a coloured a deep red, looking well ready to explode any moment now.

“Chenle,” Renjun smiles sweetly, through the murderous glint in his eyes is anything but. “I’m going to fucking end you.” 

Chenle shrilly yells and uses Jisung as a shield, the poor boy who had been unknowingly sitting in between Renjun and Chenle caught in the fray. Renjun’s fingers clamour past to try to land a punch as Jisung tries to pull himself away from the scene, while Donghyuck rests his head on Jeno’s shoulder, happily entertained. Jaemin sends them a look of exasperation, and Donghyuck throws up his hands in surrender. "It was Chenle's idea!"

The bottle lay neglected on the table, and Jaemin takes it back, toying around in his hands. Renjun had bought this. On second thought, perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to try.

"I guess I don't mind trying..." Jaemin blurts out tentatively, picking at the lid.

“NO!” Renjun shrieks, aghast. “Don’t you dare drink it, you said you hated it anyway! Give it back!”

Jaemin peels open the lid and downs a fair amount, almost retching at the first taste of artificial strawberry flavour, and bleurgh, the milk leaves an awful aftertaste in his mouth. One gulp and he already feels his stomach churning.

He tries to show that he likes it, but it comes out all wrong, lips pulled up too dramatically, his nostrils flared in barely hidden disgust. Chenle is practically on all fours laughing his gut out at the moment.

“Mhm. Yum.” He licks his mouth clean for good measure.

“I hate you guys.” Renjun wails, covering his face.

♫♫♫

Three months later

For all intents and purposes, Renjun and Jaemin have specifically made a deal of a long list of requirements to make both of their lives easier now they have somehow acknowledged their mutual connection. The most significant condition was both to closely follow a schedule, complying to each other’s established periods of what they call ‘no-music sessions’, basically periods they want their mind cleared and uninterrupted for a healthy mental state. Well, Renjun was mainly considering his mental state when he decided the clause. Now he wholly appreciates having the foresight to make such an agreement, because it is proving exceptionally vital in these arduous times.

Renjun's qualifying is in just three weeks, and when he hears he will be facing Kim Doyoung, a star player in his first match, all the fight and spirit is lost in him. It’s impossible no one has heard of the sportsman, he’s revered like an idol in their field of sport, the youngest badminton player in the country sure to secure a spot for the next Olympics. He’s basically a shoo-in for the upcoming badminton tournament, and it’s just Renjun’s tough luck he’s competing in Men’s Singles for the first time and has to play against one of the new aces of the sport. 

And he had entertained the thought he could perhaps proceed up to the quarter-finals. He’s no podium-finisher calibre, but that doesn’t mean he deserves getting his hopes dashed so spectacularly, right?

Tension is setting his nerves on edge these days. It’s getting to him, he feels it; the pressure and expectations that he has on himself to play well, and it’s starting to show on his play. Everything looks wrong and awkward now, he can’t help but analyze to death his form and footwork, the serves and swings, his executions; everything just feels out of practice, which is obviously not, since they have been practising consistently just for the game. Even working with the shuttle machine he repeatedly misses the corners he’s supposed to be adept by now, spiking it too forcefully that the birdie lands outside the service court. Wound up at the repeated blunders, he even makes a rookie mistake of missing the shuttlecock, the tip of racket barely grazing before it tumbles down on the floor.

He could feel the tense and concerned glances Jaehyun and the coach are throwing his way, but they never actually come over to his court to politely ask him to fucking get himself together, and he’s grateful for that. He knows. He fucking knows, and he doesn’t need someone else to tell him to his face that it’s one of his worst performances in practice to date. There’s a strong chance if this rut of his keeps going on, the coach will decide to pull him out of the match, and all his efforts would have gone to waste.

He’s making an excuse of wiping his perspiration on the towel when he’s actually fighting back the tears, his head hanging dispiritedly when he hears it, the recognisable guitar strumming build-up of the classic motivational hit for every athlete– Eye of the Tiger. Renjun whips his head around the hall, the song too timely to be coincidental. He spots Jaemin on the last row of the stands with Chenle and Jisung, and they wave at him in response, albeit hesitantly.

Embarrassment pools in his gut, and he has trouble maintaining eye contact. He doesn’t want them to see him in such a pathetic state. He grips the handle of his racket too tightly, checking the clock on the wall. He stomps towards Jaehyun and tells him he will be ending training early, already leaving before the senior could even form a reply. He sprints up the stairs to them, taking two steps at a time, racket bumping on his hip as he thinks of something to say to them.

It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight– What fight? There’s no fight, Renjun swallows frustratedly. Shame rearing its ugly head, reactive anger boils over in cover of his humiliation as he reaches their row of seats.

“Why are you guys even here?” He spits, words coming off all sharp and wrong.

Their smiles slackened, confusion mingled with hurt crossing their features. He has knowingly made the mistake of venting his frustrations on his innocent friends when they probably just wanted to show support by turning up for his practice. Ashamed of his behaviour, Renjun throws his racket and bag on the floor, drawing his legs on the seat. He covers his face in his lap guiltily. “I’m sorry for flaring up on you guys. I’m a fuck up.”

Chenle sighs, places a comforting hand on his knee. Renjun bit his lip, conscience-stricken. “Junnie. Don’t be too hard on yourself, it's just a game!”

“No. I’m going to be a laughing stock when I play against Kim Doyoung.” He wails, pulling at his face.

“Who is Kim Doyoung?” Jaemin says in a whisper towards Jisung.

“A podium finisher that Renjun has to face in his first qualifying,” Jisung explains.

Well, Jaemin has not heard a whiff of whoever this Kim Doyoung person is, and in his opinion, Renjun is the BEST badminton player he has ever seen. Okay okay, this might come off awfully prejudiced since he barely knows the sport to be making such a statement, but he has seen Renjun play enough times to discern his abilities. There were several times he secretly sneaked into the hall to see him play, studying his stance, marvelling; clearly he has seen enough to know he’s adequately skilled in the sport. Inexplicably Jaemin feels he needs to do something, anything to put a smile on Renjun’s face that was until recently full of excitement and fervour for the sport, aplomb and vigour uninhibited. It’s sadly now replaced with a dark air of despondency, and it’s jarring to see him so down in the dumps.

“Should I break a limb so I can skip the match altogether?” Renjun broods aloud.

“I will break your other working limbs if you even entertain the thought.” Chenle deadpans. Jaemin grimaces at his lack of tact, studying Renjun’s expression uneasily. He tries to say something comfortingly, but he gets interrupted.

“I don’t think I can win.” Renjun mumbles. On his side, Jisung nods sagely in agreement. Jaemin’s brows furrowed deeper at the lack of encouragement.

“Yeah, you’re going to lose.” Chenle agrees, awfully pragmatic, and Renjun doesn’t even wince at his reply.

Jaemin stares wide-eyed, mouth gaped open at their exchange. They should be consoling him, not discouraging him when he’s already looking so downhearted! Is… is this how solace works around here? Someone help me, I’m thoroughly confused?

“I know that,” Renjun replies glumly. “It just sucks that I’m playing a losing game.”

“At least you will make it for our annual Christmas party?” Chenle supplies.

Renjun peers up to the ceiling, ruminative. 

“I guess I will.”

WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK??? Jaemin can only yell inwardly at their exchange, brain horribly wrecked by this point. 

—

Renjun has never liked this season anyway. The winter doldrums always affect his mood, causing him to feel spiritless and lethargic through the months, until spring, his favourite season, comes along. His usual routine is to hibernate in his bed, listening to copious amounts of Simon and Garfunkel, drinking all the seasonal beverages known to mankind to tide him through the season. 

His shitty performance in training the other day had been on his mind unceasingly these days; Donghyuck had gotten word about the incident from Chenle, and preferring to show their support through actions rather than words, they partnered up together to prepare a wholesome dinner spread just to liven his mood. Admittedly he was heartened and touched by their actions, though he’s slightly abashed for all the unnecessary trouble he has caused them. He wishes he could get out of this funk, look alive, play the fucking match that can never be won, and finally, looking jovial and spirited for their Christmas festivities. 

It’s really that simple, Renjun tells himself. Losing is always a way to learn and improve, and while he knows he’s effectively playing a losing game it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, the tournament is not even the biggest there is, a regional extramural competition at best, and he should be humbled to get the chance to play against supposedly one of the best upcoming players of the sport. It’s all due to his pride he surmised, too inflated for his own good. Some people have been playing the sport competitively ever since they were kids, and him? Well, he only played as a hobby in the beginning and unexpectedly was rather good at it that Donghyuck and Chenle encouraged him to try the school’s badminton team, and the rest is history.

I can almost see it

That dream I'm dreaming but

There's a voice inside my head saying

You'll never reach it

Renjun scoffs at Jaemin’s song choice, side-stepping a thick blanket of snow on the sidewalk. It’s sung by the girl with the wrecking ball, what’s her name, Hannah– no, Miley Cyrus, the name finally coming into mind. He doesn’t know at what point it has come to this, Jaemin using their telepathic bond to convey little messages, using music to replace verbal exchanges. Renjun unwittingly barks out a laugh as he thinks about how bizarre it really is, and the little girl sharing the sidewalk across him passes him by so quickly, probably thinks he's nuts with the dumb smile on his face. 

Renjun snuggles deeper into his scarf, feeling a sense of calm that comes from listening to the song. Even as frigid winds blow, the cold licking his face and creeping under his clothes, his chest feels unbearably warm.

“Thanks, I guess,” Renjun mutters.

♫♫♫

His phone has been ringing non-stop for the last ten minutes. Renjun has his head pressed in between his pillows, but it still doesn’t help block the incessant ringing. He thought the caller might stop after a few unreached calls, but it has been going on for some time that he’s already wide awake, irritated and irked off as hell. He had begrudgingly switched off silent mode because Jaehyun or his coach might call him on to discuss his gameplay, something they do on the regular these few days. Other than them, he can’t imagine anyone calling him at fucking eight in the morning.

Call Me Maybe streams into his head, and he lets out an exasperated yell, body violently thrashing on the bed. It’s fucking Jaemin, his gut feeling tells him. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, yelling into the device when he answers the call.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU WANT?!”

“Woah, your temper.” Jaemin admonishes. “Can you come down in twenty minutes?”

“FUCK NO!!!” Renjun bellows, ending the call right away.

MAGIC!’s Rude chimes the next minute, and his phone lit up again.

“As I was saying,” Jaemin pipes nonchalantly, like he hasn’t just gotten yelled at seconds ago. “Wear your best down jacket, and meet me at your door.”

“Go home. You’re sleeptalking.” Renjun’s voice cracks up, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m going to keep waiting here in the cold until you come down.” Jaemin sing-songs.

“You can’t fool me, you doofus–” Renjun winds up his window blinds, spotting Jaemin on the porch. “Oh. You’re actually here.”

“Yessssss. So hurry up. I’m all frozen up waiting here.” Jaemin’s teeth clatter for added effect, repeatedly pacing back and forth on the steps.

“Jaemin, what makes you think I’m going to agree to this impromptu meet up when I can just leave you at the porch and go back to bed?”

Jaemin hums. “Do you seriously think you can sleep well knowing you’re making a poor handsome young man freeze to death this winter morning?

"Gross." Renjun retches into the receiver. “What can we even do at this time?!”

“Oh, there’s loads to do. I promise it’s going to be fun.”

Renjun chews on his nail, his hair sticking out in all places as he observes Jaemin from the window. He’s wrapped in a thick white down coat, and his tiny head bobs up and down as he twirls absentmindedly on the doorway. His ears are pressed intently on his phone as he waits for his reply.

“You look like a snowman,” Renjun says, and that’s when Jaemin darts his head around the house to locate him. He finally spots him by the last window on the right, and he breaks out in a smile, all sunshine and sparkly. Jaemin curls his fingers to beckon him, his cheeks rosy from the biting wind, and Renjun pretend he didn’t just think he looked cute for a moment.

“Remember to do something about that bed hair of yours,” Jaemin points at him, breaking out in giggles.

That breaks the spell immediately, and Renjun flips him the finger.

“I hope you slip and fall,” Renjun growls, throwing his phone on his bed after he ends the call. He sighs long-sufferingly and yawns, padding towards his closet for his coat.

—

Renjun has never expected Jaemin to bring him to an animal shelter. He’s almost freaking out when he sees the sign, feeling like he’s going to drop dead in excitement just imagining the animals in the facility. He’s positively vibrating when a white Siberian cat majestically leaps up on the front counter when they enter the shelter, purring faintly. 

“Oh my god. I’m in heaven.” Renjun confesses, scratching the cat under his jaw, feeling the vibration of his purr. He flips the metal tag hanging on the collar, eyes squinting to read the name. 

“Ooh,” Renjun chortles. “Nice to meet you, Mr Bingsoo. Do you want to cuddle?”

“You’re here to work.” Jaemin reminds him, but he breaks out in laughter when Renjun’s eyes turn into saucers, helpless when the white fluffball starts kneading on the sleeves of his down coat. Renjun watches him with rapt attention, eyes dripping with mad affection.

Behind the counter, a door opens, and a woman around comes into view. She beams when she sees them, giving a casual wave when Jaemin calls out a greeting.

“Oh, Bingsoo likes you.” The woman says, skillfully freeing the cat’s paws away from Renjun, the cat already making small little punctures on his coat with his claws. Honestly, Jaemin could tell Renjun doesn’t mind in the slightest.

“Wendy. Renjun.” Jaemin remarks, sweeping his hand back and forth to introduce both of them.

“Oh, so you’re the Renjun.” She comments, seemingly in some recognition, lips curved up in a smirk. 

“Er, yes, I’m the Renjun.” Renjun plays along, an eyebrow arched in amusement.

An intense close-mouthed exchange between Jaemin and Wendy appears to be in process. They eventually break contact, Wendy unlocking the gate between the counter to motion them to pass. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Renjun. I’m glad you’re here, some of our staff have taken Christmas breaks, so we’re pretty understaffed. Oh, the clothes rack is right behind this door. I guess Jaemin can just guide you along, he’s been here longer than me anyway.”

Entering the door it leads to what looks like staffs’ break room, the four sides of the wall are painted with colourful murals of numerous types of dogs and cats in a wide green field of whimsical-shaped flowers. A smile unconsciously forms on his features as he surveys the room, marvelling at the hundreds of polaroids pasted on one side of the wall. Studying the pictures it’s all pictures of the kindest looking people Renjun has ever seen, and he guesses they are the volunteers that have given their heart and time to the shelter all these years. It takes him by surprise when he spots Jaemin in several of them. Glancing at the dates it seems he has been volunteering for quite some time, one even dated many years back. His heart swells when he sees a polaroid of him with the cutest puppy in his arms.

Britney. ♡ 18.03.2016

He's definitely the one that named the poor pup, Renjun snorts inwardly, gaze lingering on Jaemin unconsciously. He can’t deny, he’s seeing the boy in a new light, slightly impressed to find he has a heart of gold. Not like he didn’t think he’s a good person; just, he didn’t know he’s that good. Jaemin usually drives him up the wall with his antics, but truthfully, he is far from being an actual asshole. It’s nice to know his alleged soulmate has a kind nature, as compared to his. After evaluating himself he’s slightly remorseful, shamefaced his own had been pretty foul and inferior in comparison. There are lots to learn from him, he supposes.

Bingsoo captures his attention when he slinks into the room casually, but Wendy is already picking him up within seconds. She takes a quick look at the both of them, and after making sure Jaemin is out of earshot, she closes in to whisper into Renjun’s ear. “Pardon my earlier reaction. It's just, Jaemin has the most peculiar habit of sharing his personal life to the animals here. He thinks we don’t hear it.”

Renjun blinks, baffled, turning his head around curiously as he strokes Bingsoo’s snow-white paws.

“We do. We hear everything.” Wendy grins. 

“Give me your coat.” Jaemin signals, motioning with a nudge of his fingers. He already has a disposable apron over his clothes, and Renjun obediently removes his coat, watching him intently as he fishes out a hanger from the drawers. “Wendy tells me you’ve been using the poor animals as free therapists for your private problems.”

Renjun snickered when Jaemin’s fingers slipped and his coat fell in a heap on the floor.

“Oops, gotta go. Bingsoo needs his meds.” Wendy hurriedly escapes, closing the door.

Jaemin scrambles to pick his coat right away, dusting the fabric before he hangs up the clothing, all while his ears are reddening to the colour of a ripe tomato. Fucking Wendy, Renjun hears him mutter, and he breaks out in barely suppressed giggles.

“So, are you more of a cat or dog person?” Jaemin tries to smoothly divert the topic, passing him a disposable apron.

“Definitely a cat person.” Renjun saves him from the embarrassment, tying the strings. He trails behind Jaemin when he’s done, pacing towards another closed door on the other side of the room. 

“Well, I shouldn't have asked. That was pretty obvious.”

“What about you? Dog or cat?” Renjun inquires as Jaemin opens the door.

“Probably dogs, but I–” He hasn’t even finished his sentence when Renjun squeals excitedly, squeezing past him at the sight of the large compound with numerous kennels. The air-conditioned compound is split into four sections; both breeds have their own large enclosed area to mingle, while there are individual kennels at the far end. The last section looks to be a nursing room of some sort.

“Wow, this is entirely different from what I imagine an animal shelter to be like,” Renjun confesses, bouncing around the two enclosed playpens in fascination. 

“Don’t assume that all animal shelters look this way,” Jaemin warns, passing him a trash bag and a cat litter scoop. “It’s only recently the shelter got refurbished with the help of several animal welfare organizations. We’re super fortunate.”

“I see.” Renjun follows Jaemin into the cat playpen, almost reeling when the cats adorably turned their heads towards their direction in unison. Chores first before play, thus they dutifully start by cleaning the litter boxes. 

The cats seem to be fascinated with Renjun, his unfamiliar scent causing them to cluster around both of them as they clean, and it’s getting a little chaotic that Jaemin snatches the scoop in Renjun’s hand, nudging him away. “Think it’s best if you go and play with them over that corner, I can handle it from here.”

“Nah, I will help.” Renjun tries to take the tool back, but Jaemin flatly refuses. “The cats are too curious about you, cause you smell unfamiliar. Just play with them for a while, and they will lose interest in you soon. Go.”

“Sounds just like my spirit animal.” Renjun cackles. “You sure?”

“Doubly sure. Go. Shoo.”

“Alright!” Renjun skips away, too happy to comply.

Jaemin spends another fifteen minutes on the litter box, clearing the stray pellets and wiping the floor clean with an anti-bacterial spray. It’s a back-breaking activity, but he has grown used to it by now, already his seventh year here. His favourite cat, a senior tabby named Toffee, rubs his head between his feet, and Jaemin scratches him behind his ears, just the way the cat likes it.

Come to think of it, Toffee was already around on his first day here. It’s quite a story about how he came about working at the animal shelter. Jaemin had begged his parents incessantly for a puppy every birthday for several years, and his mother, a very wise woman, took him not to a pet shop, but a run-down animal shelter instead for some enlightening life lessons. It was an awful sight; the poor animals in their dirty old cages, and he had burst out crying there and then knowing the pets would get euthanized if the shelter couldn’t find people that would adopt them.

His mother had calmly explained to him the pets were once so valuable and treasured, treated like special gifts, but their owners got bored or didn’t understand the responsibilities to take care of an animal. He had been so saddened to hear such stories, after the visit, he never asked for a pet anymore. Two years later, he volunteered to help in a no-kill animal shelter, the very same one he has been helping out all these while now.

Finally deeming the litter box area spotless, he turns around, the scene before him taking him by a pleasant surprise. It's a dumbfounding sight; it’s as if Renjun’s the cat version of Pied Piper attracting cats left, right, and centre. The felines are still very much taken with him, and Jaemin doesn’t recall the cats to be the clingy type; most don’t even spare him a glance when he comes to clean or when he comes with toys, so he’s feeling just a tiny bit disgruntled. Renjun has his face nuzzled into a particularly long haired munchkin – Daisy – and the cat purrs contentedly, seemingly pleased with the attention.

Spellbound as he stares at the boy, he feels an inexplicable tingling warmth settling in his chest, pulsating in waves. The sensation’s almost magnetic; gaze growing transfixed as he observes Renjun interacting with the cats effortlessly, unable to tear his eyes away because… he doesn’t want to look away. Renjun jerks his head back up and laughs out unrestrainedly, looking happily distressed that he only has a pair of hands to pet all the cats surrounding him. He taps them on their head and the cats purr successively, the cats behaving like Renjun's the cat god bestowing them his revered touch as a reward. It’s a bit like seeing him for the first time; eyes crinkling in laughter, his gentle touches when it’s with the sensitive ones, the way he makes sure the little kittens get double the kisses... it’s all too precious, and his heart tugs involuntarily.

Renjun meets his eyes with him at the precise moment, and Jaemin parts his lips in a soundless gasp. It’s abrupt and unexpected, but he hears it, hears it before his mind even registers that it’s not coming from his surroundings, seemingly coming from Renjun instead. It’s barely audible, not exactly static, but a persistent low and steady hum, and he’s rendered speechless by the hypnotic and mysterious sound.

He knows what the phenomenon entails.

He read it in the books, he heard couples recount it before, and wow... on second thought, perhaps it’s way overdue. 

“Isn’t he the cutest?” Renjun points excitedly at the kitten dozing off on his lap, his lips split wide in a dazzling smile.

“He is.” Jaemin agrees wholeheartedly, heart thrumming with the steady hum.

He is.

♫♫♫

Jaemin’s new purpose in life seems to be to show up unannounced wherever Renjun least expects it, or to make his life as difficult as possible, both wholly interrelated. He would wake up in the early afternoon to find Jaemin and Jisung playing on their PlayStation, too absorbed in their game to even blurt out a greeting. A crucial point to note was they weren’t the ones paying rent. But sure, he could turn a blind eye to that since the game wasn’t his, to begin with.

Or perhaps the episode when he visited Mrs Kim in her cafe to discover Jaemin and her having a great deal of fun baking in the kitchen. Mrs Kim had nothing but praises over his cooking abilities and conversely nagged Renjun for his lack of it. The traces of flour on Jaemin’s nose kept capturing his attention, but he spitefully ignored it all the same.

Renjun knew what he was up to. It was painfully obvious, but he chose to avoid confronting him because there are times he thinks he can do without breaking the poor boy's heart again.

But ignorance only worsens the circumstances through time, as Renjun learns.

The last straw unexpectedly comes as Renjun returns home to see someone shovelling snow on the entryway of their house. Naturally, he assumed Chenle was finally conscientious with the chores for once. It was only when Jaemin turned his head around with a dopey grin on his face, nose thawed red from the cold, that Renjun realises it was him all along. At which point he dragged him into the house, blasted the heater, threw him a warm blanket and made him a cup of hot chocolate, all while he was yelling profanities at Chenle for shirking his responsibilities. Chenle had stealthily retreated into his room with the shovel in tow.

With the pitiful state Jaemin is in, Renjun literally pleaded with him to go back to his apartment because seriously, he has no business being here. But Jaemin stares at him looking like a kicked puppy, the corner of his lips stained with chocolate, and Renjun feels his resolve dissolving every second.

“Dude. Just... Just stop coming here so often and go back to your place.” Renjun groans, pressing a palm on his forehead.

“But Donghyuck is with Jeno now!”

Renjun glowers. “So?”

“Sooooooo,” Jaemin repeats, exasperated. “That means they are presently FUCKING. For god's sake, do I have to be that explicit?”

Renjun blanks out, embarrassment rippling across his features. So this is the reason why Jaemin comes here so frequently, he must have been so traumatized by them that he has to leave his flat. Obviously, Donghyuck wouldn’t have the guts to bring Jeno over to their place so they chose their place instead. Clearly, Jeno is useless, and Jaemin can be such a pushover. Renjun releases a deep and dismal sigh, slightly rueful, cheeks reddening. “That… that explains a lot.”

Jaemin thinks it’s quite amusing to see him flustered, but he chooses to keep it to himself. “Told you so.”

Jaemin smacks his lips and shakes his empty cup in a hint, and Renjun snorts but makes him another cup again. Seeing that he is adequately settled, Renjun turns to leave, but he is stopped when Jaemin grabs at the sleeves of his hoodie. “Where are you going?”

“Up.” Renjun points toward the ceiling. “My room.”

“Can I come?”

“No!”

“Look,” Jaemin pouts, putting the mug down to wiggle his fingers. “My hands are all coarse now, and Mrs Kim would be so upset. She specifically mentioned that I have very soft hands that are very effective for dough kneading.”

Renjun leers, arms crossed. “I’m sure your dough kneading hands will recover in no time. If you will excuse me–”

“Renjun,” Jaemin mutters, his tone switched so dangerously low, and Renjun’s rooted on the spot, arms slackening. It’s precisely this drastic switch in his demeanour that makes him so difficult to figure; one second he could be this ditzy and flippant character that seems almost vacuous, and the next he could be exactly like this, voice has gone all serious, the baritone of his voice reverberating through his bones causing him to shiver uncontrollably. He spoke his name like a command, powerful and deliberate, and Renjun finds himself unwittingly abiding. Their first meeting at Mrs Kim’s comes to mind. 

“I swear I wouldn’t be a nuisance.”

Renjun chews his bottom lip. Jaemin looks vulnerable, and somehow, awfully lonely. His heart twinges at the sight. There’s a time for rejections, but perhaps not at this moment when Jaemin still has his nose tinged red, his skin slightly peeled from the freezing cold.

Fucking Donghyuck, his brain pops in irritation.

He shakes his head in resigned acceptance, breaking into a wry smile. Jaemin reciprocates with a hopeful one of his own.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

Jaemin beams, relief written all over his face, and somehow, Renjun is relieved as well.

—

Watching a movie with Renjun is indeed an experience.

At Renjun’s invitation to select a film, Jaemin deliberately chose a horror flick because he wanted to see for himself how terrified the man will be, suppressing a giggle when the boy’s face turned quickly ashen at his choice. Despite his obvious reluctance, Renjun hadn’t persuaded him against it, instead, he coolly started the film on his telly. Taking a corner spot on his bed Jaemin pretends he doesn’t see Renjun gathering his white hippo-like plushies as company.

The first jumpscare had Renjun jerking up so violently he had inadvertently startled Jaemin as well; the second time comes barely ten minutes after, right at the moment when the vengeful spirit suddenly appeared and dragged the main character into the basement, and the boy had shaken like a leaf, the bed frame rattling with him.

A blood-curdling scream comes from the movie right after, and Renjun jerks again, a small shriek escaping.

It was true after all, the stories from Donghyuck and Chenle that Renjun is a scaredy-cat over horror films involved and associated with the macabre and supernatural. With his initial position of stiffly sitting with his legs crossed he has gradually shrunk into a ball, arms drawing his legs tightly into his chest, looking like he’s going to lose it at any moment. Jaemin can barely pay any attention to the film when he’s having a literal blast at Renjun’s miserable state. 

Jaemin grabbed the controller and paused the film, doubling over with laughter when Renjun visibly deflates in relief, his body rigid with fear.

“Forget it,” Jaemin says between laughter, unable to put Renjun in such distress anymore. “We can watch something else.”

“I–I’m fine!” Renjun denies, trying to snatch back the remote. “We only just got to the good part!”

“I confess, I was playing a joke on you. Donghyuck mentioned you are a coward with horror flicks, and I just wanted to see for myself. Let’s just watch something funny and lighthearted–”

Renjun parts his lips, cheeks flaming. “Fuck you, I’m not a coward–”

Jaemin snorts and goes to the main page of the screen, browsing the animation list for a film. “How about Home Alone? I watch it every Christmas.”

“Sure,” Renjun replied only too quickly.

Jaemin’s lips split into a grin. “Impatient, aren’t you?”

Renjun shoves a foot on his shin in retaliation, and Jaemin swallows a painful cry. Yup, I totally deserved that. 

The movie finally starts, and Renjun’s condition is a far cry from before. He quickly loosens up, propping his head on his pillows to lie his body down on the bed as he watches the film in silence. Feet inches away from him, Renjun wiggles his toes relaxedly as Kevin McCallister lies petulantly in the attic bed, wishing that everyone in the house would disappear. Jaemin grins affectionately and returns his focus to the film.

(–Okay, but what about the money?"

"What money?” The gangster in the telly grunts.

The pizza boy rolls his eyes. "Well, you have to pay for your pizza, sir."

Kevin promptly plays the clip. “How much do I owe ya?”

“Er. That will be $11.80, sir.”

Kevin puts the bills through the door opening, and the money falls on the pizza box.

He fast forwards the clip, and presses play.

"Keep the change you filthy animal."

The pizza boy leered. "Cheapskate.”)

Oooh, Jaemin had already known the dialogue of the scene by heart. There’s still the iconic ‘I'm going to give you to the count of ten to get off my property,’ which puts the pizza boy in fear as he scrambled away from the house at the sounds of a gun being loaded.

Jaemin was going to brag that to Renjun, but he stopped when he saw the boy fast asleep.

He watches his body rise and fall as he respires, his face partially covered by his arms, and he pauses the film. He cautiously climbs out of bed, making sure he doesn’t wake Renjun from his stupor. Gently pulling the covers up to his shoulders, Jaemin gazes intently at him.

The world around him has descended into a tranquil silence as heavy snow falls outside of the house. There’s the low and melodic hum emanating from Renjun again, in perfect accompaniment with the steady beat of his heart, and Jaemin daren’t make a sound. He doesn’t want to disrupt this precious moment, and truthfully, he wouldn't mind if the quiet carries on forever and ever. Everything about Renjun’s features looks delicate and innocent; from the smooth slope of his nose to the little divot of his lip, but in consciousness those features that bear the man’s countenance are anything but, and that’s the charm of the man he supposes, to be so unapologetically and utterly himself. 

That’s just one of the many things Jaemin puts in his tiny mental box of anything captivating about him. Every time he thinks about it, he's amazed at how lucky he is to be able to put a face to the curious soulmate that has occupied his mind for several years, finding it mind-boggling how it’s concurrently coincidental and premeditated their lives have already crossed and intertwined in ways Jaemin never anticipated and could never imagine.

The thrumming of his heart grows louder as shaky fingers graze Renjun’s forehead to push an errant lock of hair away from his closed eyes. In this particular moment, an illuminating thought blooms within Jaemin’s mind, ears mysteriously registering the familiar faint melodic humming that sounds almost like a whispered lullaby.

He doesn’t wish for anyone else to be his soulmate.

Renjun is perfect enough.

♫♫♫

Renjun steps off the bus, marvelling at the state-of-the-art stadium before his very eyes.

For an intramural competition, the folks of the event committee have picked too splendid and imposing of an arena. It’s either the wintry gust of wind or nerves (it’s nerves) that’s causing his lips to tremble, and he toys with his freshly minted ID card dangling on his neck given by the coach before they get on the bus. He keeps glancing down and smiling at the sight of his photo, goofy grin and all, ‘Men’s Singles’ written in big block letters under his name. There are some crowds of enthusiastic supporters loitering the area, unsurprisingly, fans of Kim Doyoung seen by the placards they are holding, and Renjun blows out a breath.

Head low, he passes the fans as they are directed into the reception foyer. He has already taken it in stride, accepting that winning is not all that matters in sports. To play for the experience is as important as winning, and there is always ‘honour in losing’. Something he heard in the TV series ‘The Office’ the other day, completely ridiculous as Michael Scott said, but hey, there’s some fundamental principle behind it if he mulls his head over.

Always strive to play my best rather than beat the best, isn’t that right?

Few other teams have already arrived in the reception hall, and Renjun grips his badminton bag a little tighter. The foyer is adorned with Christmas decorations, and a huge Christmas tree cutely adorned with sports-related baubles is situated right at the entrance. This is the third competition of his humble badminton playing career; twice in Doubles with Yangyang last year, and the smug and unfriendly looks coming their way is just a little vexing to bear. It’s said there will be a reception later in the evening before the competition officially starts the day after tomorrow, but he would rather skip that for some last-minute training or a run on the treadmill. Honestly, he doesn’t think anyone in their team would be sincerely welcomed anyway, and that’s unfair, really. Just because their team is less experienced in terms of years and awards those snobs assume they are less creditable in the sport.

“Ignore them,” Yangyang puts an arm on his shoulder as he guides Renjun towards where the trophies are displayed in the glass cabinets. “We are quite a cause of envy, so we really shouldn't blame them for looking this way.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Yangyang smirks, looking at their reflection cast on the shiny trophies. “Because not only do we play well, we are the most attractive group out of everyone here.”

Renjun scoffs. “What, you think this is a beauty pageant?”

“Look at that guy over there,” Yangyang whispers, guiding him towards his two o'clock direction. Renjun finds a man glaring their way, abhorrence written all over his features.

“He’s one chromosome away from looking like a blobfish.”

Renjun splutters, shoulders shaking as they howled in laughter, and it’s utterly undignified and derisive of them to be causing a scene like that, doubling over like they're going to burst a lung laughing, but hey, the guy threw them a dirty look first.

The last of the giggles escape him as he feels a vibration on his left pocket. He fishes the device out and scans his notifications. So it seems the rest has arrived as well, and as Donghyuck shared in a series of texts, they are parking the car right now, his ears are going to bleed out by Jisung and Chenle’s chatter, and where is the bathroom Junnie? He snickers at the messages, replying with a brutal ‘Find it yourself’ before putting his phone back into his pocket. See, he had barely managed to convince his mother not to take the five hours bus ride just for a competition (that he has no chance of winning), but Donghyuck had been obstinate about attending. While Renjun has repeatedly told the boy he doesn't have to show up he never actually skips a match of his, which admittedly makes his heart all warm and fuzzy. Truth be told, he feels better with his best friends around. (But he’s not going to tell him that of course.)

Furthermore, Donghyuck thought it was his sacred duty to record his game for his mother, so he really couldn’t find a better reason to argue against that.

There are new developments this year, however. When he said ‘they’, he meant everyone. Now that Donghyuck and Jeno are an inseparable pair the latter has decided to come along, while Jisung likes to pretend he’s just bored and doesn’t have separation anxiety being apart with Chenle… and then, there’s Jaemin.

Jaemin texted him good luck with copious exclamation marks right before Renjun turned in the night yesterday, and when he woke up in the morning the song that played in his head– Black Eyed Peas’ Let’s Get It Started had put a smile on his face. The effect was subliminally motivational and uplifting; he had broken out in a feet-shuffling dance to the beat, and Renjun thought it was only right that he reciprocated by playing the Jackson Five’s song they mutually liked.

He’s honestly ambivalent when it comes to him; it feels something has changed between them, but he can’t describe exactly what is different. It does him no good to dwell on those perplexing sentiments though, because he has decided to set things as straight as possible for a gay boy like himself. It was partly because he needed his frame of mind as focused as possible for the game; the other half owing to something Donghyuck had remarked when he was packing his belongings earlier in the morning, something that made him mindful to keep their relationship as platonic as possible. 

He had the spirits to hum a tune as he was packing his belongings in the morning, and Donghyuck had lingered at his doorway rubbing at his sleep-filled eyes. He stayed long enough to become conspicuously inconvenient, and Renjun had looked up in exasperation.

“I know you are loitering around because you have something you wanna say, so say it.”

“You were humming.”

Renjun stared incredulously. “Holy shit wasn’t that just fucking enlightening!”

Donghyuck chucked the Darth Vader figurine that was still a second ago placed on his shelves, and Renjun had barely saved it. “Y–YOU… YOU DIDN’T JUST FUCKING–”

“You were humming to Maroon 5!”

Renjun squints his eyes in confusion. “I was humming to who?!”

“The band who you said was a sell-out and had no business calling themselves a rock band.” Donghyuck propped his hands on his hips, looking awfully smug. 

Okay, he did say that. Renjun blinks, defensive. “So?

“I see that Jaemin has made an impact on you.”

Renjun resolutely avoids his gaze, folding a sweater into his backpack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Donghyuck snorts sardonically. Renjun can lie and weave all sorts of excuses to fool himself into thinking it’s true, but he can see through all of his walls and know all of his tells, so he really doesn't even know why Renjun thinks he could fool him. 

“Feels rather date-ey, don’t you think? Volunteering at an animal shelter, Chenle mentioned a movie date between both of you two weeks back… I think I’ve read something similar in a list of the best date ideas on eharmony.”

“Are we seriously discussing this now?” Renjun groans, throwing himself on the bed with his palms covering his ears, face deep in the sheets. “Go away, I can’t hear you now. Blah blah blah blah blah–”

“Fine, continue your packing.” Donghyuck waves at him to continue, but he stops in his tracks again, widening his eyes. He sniffles around the room, looking bewildered for some reason.

“But wait! Is it just me or do you smell something funky in here?” 

Renjun rolls his eyes, patience wearing thin. “What are you barking about now?!”

“That’s right,” Donghyuck glares at him impishly. “There’s the unmistakable stench of denial coming from you. Better get yourself checked before your game. Might be contagious!!”

Fuck, Renjun would have hurled the Darth Vader figurine for Donghyuck’s face if only it didn’t cost him a limb.

—

Something is amiss.

He doesn’t understand why Renjun had been intent on avoiding his glances the past hour, blowing hot and cold in a span of a few hours. Jaemin chalked his reticence and taciturnity to nerves since the guy has a game to play two days from now, but he had been toying with the pasta in his plate as the rest of the people at the table are having a great deal of boisterous fun, and sitting right opposite Renjun has inadvertently affected his mood and appetite as well. 

He’s worried. It’s no good that the boy is skipping his meals.

“Renjun–”

“Oh! Yangyang!” 

Renjun latches his hand on Yangyang’s arm, nudging him for his attention, shaking so quickly that the fork in Yangyang’s hand flies across the table. 

A sad piece of lasagne hits the table with a splat. Yangyang looks crestfallen. 

Jaemin snaps his mouth shut, feeling a weird pang in his gut. Renjun is still intently avoiding his gazes.

“Dude, my lasagne–”

“I was thinking we should attend the dinner reception later, you know, Jaehyun seems intent that we participate–”

“Huh? You said the party is for fools–”

“NONSENSE!!” Renjun howls shrilly with a nervous chuckle, seeing he has attracted everyone’s attention. “Like what the coach said, it’s beneficial if we do some... er. Networking.”

The sound of a party has Jisung’s ears all perked up. He gestures his fork in circular motions, considering something. “So, there's free food.”

“Will there be booze?” Chenle interjects.

“We have to compete in two days.” Yangyang deadpans.

“Thought both of you needed a pick-me-up. You guys look too tense anyway.” Chenle shrugs nonchalantly. Yangyang frowns in disbelief.

Jisung raises his fork. “Can we come?”

Renjun had taken a split second look in Jaemin’s direction, and he shakes his head profusely. “Er, no. Sorry.”

“I thought it’s open to friends and family?” Yangyang unhelpfully supplies, oblivious to Renjun’s turmoil. Renjun closes his hands into fists, looking strained.

“I’m a friend and family.” Donghyuck points at himself.

“Shut up, I have been a single child all my life. And fuck no, you’re demoted to a mere acquaintance.”

“AHHHHH!!! Renjun made a boo-boo right here– right here in my heart!!” Donghyuck wails nasally, hands grasping Jeno's arms tightly. “Quick, kiss my boo-boo!!’

Jeno had chortled and complied, blowing right at the part where Donghyuck pointed, while Renjun tears at his face in chagrin. Beside him, Jisung drops his cutleries on the table, shuddering. “There’s something about your delivery that makes it sound even dirtier than it needs to be.”

Donghyuck sticks his tongue out and snaps his fingers towards Renjun, a look of warning drawn on his features. “Don’t ever think you’re going to a party without me, prick.”

Renjun’s jaw slackens in utter resignation. Donghyuck’s so far-off in his speculation it’s actually brilliant. Too brilliantly stupid that it’s hard for Renjun to stoop so low to his level. There's a high chance it will cause some irreversible brain damage of some sort if he continues the argument, so he sulks in resignation.

As the rest discuss fashion choices for the dinner later, he notices Jaemin looking at him in his periphery, but he ignores it anyway. He meticulously eats his cold and clumpy pasta in silence.

—

“This is boring.”

Someone who looks to belong to the event committee disapprovingly frowns at them before walking away. Donghyuck presses on with his best formal smile. 

“God, can you be any louder?” Donghyuck rolls his eyes at Chenle, who simply flips him the finger.

Just then, Jisung walks over with a small mount formed of bite-sized mince pies, looking rather self-satisfied. “See, I tried everything, and these are the nicer-tasting ones out of the rest. I know the sandwiches look good, but I tried it,” He pauses, shaking his head in disgust. “It’s not.”

“Thanks for the information. Now sit there with your soulmate and be quiet.” Donghyuck orders hotly.

“Whatever.” Jisung rolls his eyes and walks to seat with Chenle anyway.

Donghyuck and Jeno share a concerned look as Jaemin wordlessly looks towards the centre of the dining hall, vision fixed on Renjun as he looks to be in a light-hearted conversation with a man. A man who had come over just ten minutes ago with a friendly toothy grin and introduced himself as Kim Doyoung. The Kim Doyoung that Renjun had to play against and Renjun had looked like a deer caught in headlights when he came over. But that was fifteen minutes ago, and presently, they looked to be quickly warming to each other, hardly appearing like competitors.

The longer they conversed, the dumber Renjun looked with that starstruck expression of his, even giggling like he’s four and a half. In contrast, Jaemin appears increasingly sullen, brows snapped together sourly, though the broody display is turning a few enamoured heads.

It’s no surprise Jaemin had been quiet for the whole evening, and Donghyuck had the sinking feeling it was related to Renjun’s abrupt change in attitude towards him. Needless to say, he had noticed his best friend deliberately avoiding the poor boy during their lunch earlier, and he felt conscience-stricken when he saw how confused and affected Jaemin got at some point. It was likely his words that affected their relationship, causing an awkward withdrawnness among themselves. 

Sure, he is responsible to some extent, but Renjun… for god’s sake, the boy can be the most obtuse; taking drastic measures to the point of being thoughtless and insensitive over other people’s feelings. He nudges Jeno, and the boy discreetly nods before crossing an arm over Jaemin’s shoulder.

“Oh god, I need the loo. Where is it again?”

Jaemin turns around and points vaguely in a direction. “There.”

“Take me there, you know how awful I am with directions.” Jeno pulls at Jaemin’s arm, tugging him along even when he stays firmly rooted. “I need to take a huge dump, Jaem, come on!”

“F–Fine.” Jaemin reluctantly turns around and leaves with Jeno for the bathroom. At the precise moment they disappear into a corner, Donghyuck walks over to Renjun and Doyoung with as much purpose and poise in his stride, though it shifts to a wobbly gait the instant he grabs hold of Renjun’s arm.

(“What an act.” Jisung notes between mouthfuls.

“It’s pretty entertaining,” Chenle adds.)

“Ohhhhhhh god, Junnie, I’m like… so drunk.” Donghyuck starts his act, rubbing his temple distressingly. He fakes a hiccup, dipping his face into the slope of Renjun’s neck. 

“I want more drinks... Give me more!!!” He deposits all the weight on Renjun and moans wantonly.

“OH GOD.” Renjun supports Donghyuck by wrapping his arms around his waist, mortified when a few people around them stare in their direction.

“Is… Is your friend okay?” Doyoung asks worriedly.

Renjun shakes his head and heaves Donghyuck up again. “I don’t think so… I’m sorry, this was a nice talk, but I think I have to go. I think my friend is drunk.”

Doyoung releases a dumbfounded chuckle. “Strange, I don’t think they serve alcohol today though–”

“RENJUNNIE, I WANNA DANCE, WHERE IS THE DANCE FLOOR–”

Renjun hastily squeezes Donghyuck’s mouth shut with his fingers. Jaehyun comes over at the most opportune moment to help Renjun with the drunken load, and for that, he’s going to be eternally grateful. Donghyuck’s eyes are barely open, but his grip on Renjun’s neck is barely loosening. 

“T–Thanks Doyoung, really nice talk!” He waves a hurried wave goodbye, and Doyoung waves back one of his own a beat later.

Chenle rises from his seat, patting his hands and snortles. “Show’s ended. Let’s go.”

♫♫♫

Renjun had exceeded everyone’s expectations when he won the first game. He hadn’t been easy on Doyoung on the second rally as well, but in the end, Doyoung prevailed the second set with a score of 26-24. 

He vaguely hears the commentators comment about his play and quickly shuts his mind off, maintaining his concentration for the final game.

At the sound of the whistle, Doyoung takes the opening serve for the set. The racket struck the birdie with such immense speed that Renjun hadn’t had the time to register, and before he knew it, the shuttlecock had landed on his court. The audience erupts in cheers, cheer sticks waving animatedly at Doyoung’s first point.

The friendly look Doyoung had given him for the first two rallies is now switched into one of grim seriousness, his brows narrowed in concentration, the shift drastic enough to be disconcerting. Taking a deep breath, Renjun reevaluates his tactics as he picks up the shuttlecock. Doyoung can vary his playing style effortlessly, alternating from defensive to hard offensive whenever it suits him, just as it shows on his demeanour and form on the court. The previous serves Doyoung had returned had been precise but mild in terms of power and velocity, but not anymore. Every returned shuttle for Renjun’s court in this third rally is powerful, spikes deliberately aiming at the low corners to make Renjun exhausted as he chases for the shuttlecock. Doyoung doesn’t give him the time to breathe, aims a heavier ball to the other side of the court. Again, he had barely caught that serve.

He arduously gained just two consecutive points, now six against Doyoung’s eight, and the smash rally continued again.

Doyoung is going all-out offence, and Renjun continues to maintain his poker face expression even as he steadily gains three more points. Impatience is to every sportsman’s detriment, his coach had told him, and he curbs the growing vexation, steadying himself against pressure, gaining composure. Beads of perspiration trickle down his forehead, he bends his knees, prepares for the next serve.

The oncoming serve comes far too powerful and wide, gut feeling tells him it’s an out, and he side-steps away instinctively. And he was right; the shuttle lands outside of the boundaries, giving Renjun an easy point.

It’s now his turn to serve. He had picked up a few serving tricks from Yangyang during training – a forehand serve that packs a lot of spin. When done right, it looks to be a long hit, but the velocity is slower than it seems, and it usually lands around the forecourt. Lots of people have done the feint. He’s sure Doyoung would be able to catch that easily.

But it was a trick in two parts. Yangyang is always that cunningly impressive in his tactics.

Doyoung barely makes the serve when he lunged down, the shuttle crossing the net almost in a steep curve, and Renjun makes the decisive move. His racket meets the shuttlecock in a sideward slice, and the birdie lands straight down for the exposed side of the court. Doyoung’s eyes widened in surprise.

“– Eight, eleven! That was a shrewd play by Huang, taking advantage of Kim’s position–”

The umpire calls for an interval break right at the moment, and Doyoung’s coach hastily calls for the boy in that instant. He walks toward his coach and Jaehyun, both sporting identical proud and overwhelmed grins. “Renjun, great tactic! Just continue whatever you’re doing, but be mindful of your position in the court. Again, you have done so well. We are so proud of you.” His coach asserts with a gentle squeeze on his shoulder.

He nods with the coach’s advice, and Jaehyun ruffles his hair affectionately. “Everyone is asking about you, wondering which hole did this scrawny little kid climb out from!!!”

“My mother’s, obviously.” Renjun jokes, wiping his face dry as Jaehyun chuckles amusedly. He takes a long sip of his water bottle, hopeful eyes trailing the spectators for a sight of his friends. He goes in search for those round and downturned set of eyes he has grown accustomed to; on second thought, Jaemin’s pink mob of hair would be so much easier for him to locate in the sea of people–

Renjun blinks, in a state of shock. The next moment he chokes on water, liquid dribbling down his chin, and he coughs and sputters violently.

“RENJUN FIGHTING!!!!!”

Renjun had peered up to the direction of the cry. Eyes still brimming with tears, he looks towards the last few rows of seats, alas, he sees the widest banner he has ever seen; spanning a few seats with his name scrawled so terribly huge, and there’s a hastily written ‘Yangyang’ even squeezed at the side. Lips involuntarily curving up when he finally spots his friends, but it freezes when he spots Jaemin right at the end.

His heart skips a beat, and the most curious sound floods his senses.

The sound seems to cut through the raucous cheering of the crowd, filtering into his mind without difficulty. Noises in the background grow muted as he trains his ears towards the sound, but the location is nowhere to be found. There isn’t a melody to it, just a drawn-out humming, his attention disrupted when Jaehyun nudges him urgently.

“Renjun! The game! It’s resuming!”

Renjun nods absentmindedly and returns the towel and bottle. He takes one last look at his friends again before collecting the new shuttle from the umpire. 

He assumes his place in the court and steadies his stance, casting out the weird hum in his head, focuses only on the feathery texture of the shuttlecock.

The whistle blows. And he releases the shuttle.

—

To no one’s surprise, Renjun lost the game.

The last rally had been exceedingly long-drawn; both battled to the teeth with the match reaching a deciding 29-all, but Doyoung’s curve ball that smashed through Renjun’s defences won him the final and crucial point. It had been Renjun’s toughest match of his life, legs buckling at some point as Doyoung kept aiming for the corner shots, but he endured and played a fair fight in every respect.

And honestly? He didn’t feel like he lost at all!

The previous lukewarm reception his team has received shifted to one of awe. Some players and strangers even approached him to express their congratulations for an impressive game, and he didn’t know how to react but to respond with sheepish smiles and sincere ‘thank you very much’. Interested recruiters had been quick to badger him over exclusive contracts and payouts that could get him well settled for the rest of his life, but he had directed those pesky folks to his coach and Jaehyun so he can take a well-deserved shower.

Thinking back when Doyoung had shaken his hand warmly after the match and commented he was a worthy opponent with the friendliest of smiles, not a single trace of hostility in his face, it took him much self-control there and then to resist bawling his eyes out or ask him for a signature. Him! Huang Renjun, being praised as the worthy opponent for someone who is set for the Olympics when he’s previously just someone who had simply crawled out from a hole.

He giggles contentedly, voice reverberating in the bathroom, and he peels away his sweat-drenched top as he gets into a shower cubicle.

The ID scanner beeps, granting entry, and the door opens.

Renjun darts his head out from the cubicle expecting someone from his team, but he never foresees Jaemin of all people standing by the door with a stern expression, aura strangely ominous.

“How did you manage to gain access?”

Jaemin’s lip twitches. “I took Yangyang’s ID.”

Renjun darts his eyes down at his own unclothed body. “Er...”

“I’m just going to wipe myself clean, just give me a minute–”

Jaemin tunes him out and strides over, his approaching presence causing Renjun to sputter in shock, the towel falling in a heap. He tries to slam the cubicle door close, but Jaemin stops the door with a firm grip of his hand.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“I’m mad at you, Renjun.” Jaemin forcibly squeezes past the door similar to those hair-raising killers in movies, and Renjun backs up in fright, arms crossing around his body. He is very aware of his state of undress; other than the pair of exercise shorts hanging low on his hips, he’s exposed, and it’s becoming uncomfortable.

A draught of chilly wind enters the space, and he involuntarily shivers. He wraps his arms tighter around his chest, increasingly irked by Jaemin’s unsolicited appearance. “W–What do you mean you’re mad?! I’m supposed to be the angry one here, I… I swear… I swear I will kick you in the balls if you don’t get out of this cubicle this instant!!”

Everything seems to proceed in slow motion. Jaemin closes in, face remarkably stolid and expressionless, not a slight daunted by his warning. He’s doing this on purpose, Renjun believes, staring down at him in his full height just to gloat at his lack of it. Fingernails sinking into skin as hands turn into fists, he keeps his head up high in defiance, unyielding. 

Fine. The staring contest is on. 

“Don’t you ever dare shun me away again.”

Renjun darts his eyes down at those full lips, cracked just slightly, and he unconsciously swallows. Jaemin instantly snaps his eyes down at the movement.

His breath hitches, last spike of adrenaline and battle lust reared once again. Being half-naked is causing him to feel very weird things in his stomach.

Renjun tilts his head in a challenge. “And what, Jaemin? What are you going to do if I choose to ignore you anyway?”

“Hmm.” Jaemin mulls, and Renjun swallows hard against his fingers that are tracing the column of his neck, nails scratching skin, and Jaemin looks almost menacingly beautiful with his lips curved to one side. And those lashes, he bet they were as soft as silk, and he barely stops himself from running his fingers over those lashes. Eyes scanning around his face; the inky-black hair against his fair complexion had made him appear all the more haunting, the contrast transfixing to study, and Renjun shivers in anticipation. He finds himself allowing… allowing whatever this is. God, he knows it’s so unsanitary when Jaemin ventures down to lick the underside of his jaw, sucking marks on his skin that is still slightly damp with sweat, but it is oh-so-fucking hot he can’t help but get turned on.

And the weird reverberating unvaried tone. It’s back again, fuller and immersive with the acoustics of the bathroom, resonating and flooding his ears. He wonders if Jaemin hears it too.

Jaemin looks at him with heavy-lidded eyes, licking his lips. “You’re salty.”

Renjun snorts. “What did you expect?”

Jaemin’s arms cages around him, pushing him till he’s hitting the wall. Renjun hisses at the cool metal of the faucet, and he glares impatiently at him. The teasing is getting a tad long.

“Are you going to do anything?” Renjun almost whines.

“Sure.” Jaemin closes in with a downright impish smirk, and Renjun obediently tilts his head for better access, shutting his eyes. He feels the ghost of his breath, and he parts his lips, mind wondering how well Jaemin’s lips will fit his own.

Few seconds in and he still doesn’t feel the press of his lips, the coaxing of tongue. The kiss doesn’t come.

Eyes fluttering wide he blinks rapidly, confused when Jaemin draws away from him. He’s seriously disgruntled; Jaemin’s body heat is almost like a furnace, and he had just gotten comfortable with arms circling his back with their bodies pressing against each other.

“Right back at ya.”

“Wha–” He makes a low wounded noise as Jaemin slams the door open and barges out of the cubicle, leaving him shell-shocked and heaving between breaths.

He is left alone, unkissed and unfelt.

“WHAT THE FUCK!!!” Renjun screams at the top of his lungs.

♫♫♫

Lady luck was sure on their side. The way the matches were arranged ensured Yangyang to cruise through his games without ever playing against Doyoung, because if he had, he would have never secured that bronze.

There’s double the reason to celebrate; Renjun had been commended with the Best Promising Player award, something completely unexpected, he had to make sure he was reading the contents of the letter right. The award came in the form of a paper certificate that wasn’t even laminated, but Renjun had held it feeling like it weighed a ton, the award making him feel like all the training the past year had been validated. It’s because people finally recognised him and his team for their hard work, their love and drive for the sport and not for their lack of professional or formal experience. 

They had celebrated at this swanky hotel cafe, and Renjun and Yangyang had unreservedly stuffed themselves with numerous rounds of delicious food when they heard it’s a gift by the school’s higher management for their achievements.

The eventful non-event had always been on his mind though. That is Jaemin’s sudden appearance in the bathroom where he pulled a practical joke and left him all hot and bothered, and proceeded to go on radio silence for a whole week.

Renjun knows he absolutely deserves his comeuppance. He confessed, he had been an absolute dick, blowing hot and cold with him, and Jaemin had all the right to return the favour. He should have explained himself, apologize, but nothing feels reasonable in his mind, when he vocalized his thoughts it sounds more like excuses than anything else. 

Whatever actions he deems justified feels hardly the case anymore.

Hugging his Moomin, he sighs wearily. Wouldn’t everything be so much simpler if the world is rid of the existence of soulmates? Relationships would be better to figure out, and he would have an easier time than the dilemma he’s facing now. From day one he had told himself to keep things within the boundaries of friends, and it was indeed the case, for some time. Jaemin truly was a friend, a like-minded friend. After getting to know each other better Renjun sees much similarities in their personalities, and the boy knows how to deal with the same witticism and play on his actions the same way he does, he can’t even find himself being mad about it. It hasn’t even been long since they have met, but already Jaemin seems to have quite a handle on him.

That being said, it’s absolutely evil for Jaemin to leave him hanging after he was being teased and aroused like that. Malcontent and restless, it feels like he suffers the worst itch in every part of his body, and no matter how much he scratches, or pinches, or spurts, it just doesn’t feel like it was enough to soothe the weird tickle inside him. Perhaps all these years of singlehood had rendered him touch starved. He had resigned to the fact that it was his price to pay to spend several days in stiff-legged waddling pain.

Mind in a gutter, conflicted emotions run amok, and he unconsciously touches his lips.

He had wanted the kiss. He had wanted to kiss him.

He thrashes around the bed in frustration, mind wandering back when Jaemin tells him they could do a fling if he likes. Rationality tells him no, his nether regions jerks a yes, and his fingers shake uncontrollably over an unsent text.

Too reckless.

He throws his phone away and hides his face in his arms, miserably wailing out to the room.

—

In true Donghyuck’s fashion, Renjun had barely made his way to the dining area when the boy acknowledged his arrival with his cup raised in greeting and a piping hot jibe ready. 

"How's the whole avoidance thing working for you?" Donghyuck peels his toasted bread and throws it in his mouth.

“Shut up.” Renjun groans, pulling the seat out to join them at the table. “I’m not avoiding him, he’s now actually ignoring me instead.”

Chenle shakes his head. “Are you guys five? You two are worse than I imagine.” 

“You don’t get to say that.” Renjun gives him the stink eye, mouth curled disapprovingly.

Donghyuck plunges on. “Well, you started it first, so make amends. Both Jaemin and you can’t keep behaving like this, Christmas is in a week, and we all need to be good kids for the holiday. Don't we?"

The mysterious hum is droning incessantly in his ears again. He presses his temple in distress, eyebrows knit together as he feels an aneurysm forming. He really needs to book an appointment at the doctors, for the ringing has been getting too frequent to be normal.

Renjun grunts noncommittally, makes himself a cup of tea to nurse his pain.

Displeased with his half-hearted reply, Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “Both of you are so stubborn, you know that?”

“Oh, just stop harping now.” Renjun spits, cradling his head in his hands. “Just be quiet for ten fucking minutes. Your droning and the god-awful humming is giving me a fucking headache–

Donghyuck draws a sharp breath. “What did you say?”

“I said stop talking–”

“No, dimwit, what did you mean by the humming?”

Renjun groans, pointing to his temples. “This sound I’m hearing in my head.”

Chenle and Donghyuck share a glance, a flicker of realisation, and they crack out in laughter. Renjun looks back and forth at them, dismayed.

“Are you guys laughing at my situation?”

“Yes, and no.” Donghyuck recovers from the last of the giggles. “The sound in your head, I happen to know what that is.”

"Wow, tell me, doctor, what is it?” Renjun remarks, undeniable curiosity tinted in the lilt of his voice. He’s sure it’s just one of Donghyuck’s quips again, but he indulges him anyway.

“That sound you hear, it actually solves all your problems.” Donghyuck clasps his hands, an infuriating smile on his face.

“The books termed it Sonoeism, and it only appears at a significant moment,” Chenle states smugly.

"Okay..." Renjun mutters in mild confusion. "And?"

“You can hear it Junnie,” Donghyuck grins happily. “Because you are in love.”

A long-enduring silence follows. Renjun widens his eyes incrementally.

“A–Are you talking about the love where our stars aligned and a great force pulled me to Jaemin... that kinda love?” An unconscious sardonic question comes on reflex. 

Donghyuck shrugs. “You tell me.”

"Psh." Renjun dismisses with a wave, smacking his lips when he takes a long sip of his tea. "I'm obviously not in love with him."

"Your lack of self-awareness sometimes is breathtakingly spectacular," Chenle glowers incredulously. "How about you mull this for just a tiny bit second. Patronise us."

What dumbassery. He’s not in love with Jaemin. There’s no way he likes him.

He’s hardly in his mind–

Lies, his brain registers.

No, really. He could care less what Jaemin likes or dislikes–

Bullshit, a voice pipes, and his brows furrowed just imperceptibly. Something twists in his gut, but he quickly dismisses it away.

That's right, he still holds Jaemin accountable for taking hold of Mrs Kim’s affections in just two weeks, while he had known the elderly all his life. Infuriating. His dough kneading hands shall never be forgiven.

A memory pops just then in case he conveniently forgets, subsconscious seemingly in cahoots as well. It was their third time visiting the cafe together, and Jaemin had snatched his pile of dough when Mrs Kim wasn’t looking, because his dough had clumped up together disastrously. Renjun had retaliated by throwing a heap of flour at his face, bursting into giggles when the boy swallowed some and erupted into a coughing fit.

Mind in a state of overrun, a surge of understanding bubbles up involuntarily.

No, I'm not in love with my soulmate. He thumps the back of his head almost too violently.

It's intriguing; nothing of his first impressions of the man had turned out to be true. On the contrary, Jaemin had proved his assumptions wrong; he's far from shallow, interests rooted in mostly altruistic and prudent pursuits, and he had been a constant encouraging and warmhearted figure who never expects anything from anyone in return. He may be infuriatingly obtrusive, but on the flip side, it was just him being caring in his own little way.

The sound seems to agree. He listens as the sound ebbs and flows as more imagery of Jaemin comes into his conscious, his heart pumping in accordion, and all he remembers are his haunting eyes and those full, delectable lips. 

Renjun's agitated orbs dart back and forth at both of them.

"Well, fuck me."

♫♫♫

Jaemin clutches his seatbelt tighter as the car screeches to an abrupt halt.

“Sorry!” Jeno flinches, before changing gears and practically slamming his foot on the gas. It is a bitch to drive in this weather, the roads slippery from the froze over ice and slush, and Jaemin almost feels his life would have ended on this very day. Jeno had borrowed his family car because Donghyuck and he had made plans to go ice-skating on Boxing Day, and Jaemin wondered if both of them would survive the three hours journey. He reminds himself to have a word with Donghyuck, Jeno’s driving skills are very worrying.

The car screeches as it turns into the house’s driveway, and the engine ignition ceases. Jisung lets out a very undignified squeal in relief, while Jaemin deflates, tension slipping away from his shoulders.

“Well, that was a ride!” Jeno says, to no one in particular. 

Jaemin opens the door wide, resisting getting on his knees and praying to the skies in thankfulness, grocery bags and presents in tow.

“I think I threw up a little in my mouth, and that last jerk of the car made me swallow it all back.” Jisung’s wobbles slightly when his legs hit the soft snowy ground, and Jeno rolls his eyes.

“You exaggerate. I was a very safe driver alright.” Jeno keys in the password to the door. 

The warmth radiating from within immediately draws Jeno and Jisung quickly into the house, while Jaemin loiters outside of the door.

He can hear the faint sounds of people talking and laughing from inside, Christmas songs serve as background music. He loiters around the door, kicking snow off his boots, taking as much time as necessary to calm his thumping heart, for it has been an awful lot of days he has last seen Renjun, and honestly, he misses him.

His eyes wander to the window to Renjun’s room, blinds fully drawn.

He steadies himself with some dignity and composure and slowly walks into the house.

—

When Renjun came down from his room, he had stood rooted for several seconds when their eyes met before bolting for the bathroom immediately. 

He’s as reserved as Renjun is awkward, and it’s the worst kind of mood to be had for a dinner party.

But the awkwardness is less discernible when there are a few other people they have invited to spread the Christmas cheer. There is Yangyang, a familiar friend already; Renjun’s captain Jaehyun and his partner Sicheng, not forgetting the one and only Johnny, who everyone on campus seems to be close with.

The dining table is crammed with potluck food that everyone has chipped in for. Jisung has his knife and fork ready in his hands, while on his side, Renjun is still intent on avoiding Jaemin’s eyes by sipping wine from his glass every few minutes. Jaemin sighs internally; maybe he should just focus on the reindeer sweater Renjun is wearing that Chenle and Donghyuck wearing similar matching ones, and he imagines the boy must have had a really hard time being forced to wear that. He finds himself pursing his lips to stop a smile from forming when Donghyuck promptly clears his throat. 

“Say, as the master of this house, I’m really glad we have so many more people joining our Christmas eve dinner this year! Come on, give me your best-winning smile!”

There’s an awkward silence at the table. Jisung is baring teeth by this point, which sort of constitutes a smile.

“Well, or we can just dig in!” Donghyuck quickly helps himself to the food and everyone follows suit. Jaemin notices Jeno hitting Donghyuck’s hand playfully, causing the latter to pout in response. He grins unknowingly to himself.

Renjun seems to glance his way at the same time as he looks up, but the boy drops his gaze immediately, cheeks seemingly flushed.

Dinner carries on, the house noisy with laughter and talking. Jaemin laughs when Jisung’s fork misses and the meatball bounces off his plate, Yangyang is cackling when Jeno tries to stop Donghyuck from revealing the latest cartoon song he has heard from him, and Johnny is telling Jaehyun all about his toned legs he achieved from cycling, Jaehyun nodding almost too mechanically.

Stuffed full and satiated from turkey and mash, he glanced around the table casually. Renjun is slightly swirling, eyelids fluttering heavily, and Jaemin sits a little straighter in concern. Jaemin looks at his wine glass and the empty bottle placed a few distances away from him, then back at his plate, barely touched. Shaking his head silently, he cranes his arm out to take Renjun’s bowl, ladling some warm soup. Renjun stares at the bowl when Jaemin puts it down in front of him, bottom lip jutting in a pout.

“Why is this fucking soup in front of me? Do you want to poison me, you son of a–”

Jaemin gasps in astonishment as Donghyuck races to clamp Renjun’s mouth, groaning in exasperation. “For god’s sake, he’s drunk.”

–he curses like a sailor when he’s drunk.

Renjun writhes in his grasp, oblivious that he has attracted everyone’s attention. Jaehyun and Sicheng look scandalized.

“Get away from me, you poophead–”

Jaemin rises from his seat, walking around the table to curl his arm around Renjun’s waist. “Let me,” He says to Donghyuck. “I will bring him back to his room.”

Donghyuck nods immediately, releasing his palm that was still covering Renjun’s mouth.

His eyes trail as Jaemin takes the first flight of stairs up, the corner of his mouth quirked up mysteriously.

—

It seems Renjun has added two more figurines to his shelf collection, changed the bedsheets to an azure blue, moved his humidifier from his desk to the bedside table, and purchased a cactus since the last time he was here in his room.

It’s rather stalkerish, but he couldn’t help but notice little things about Renjun.

Like for how intoxicated and wild Renjun behaved earlier his fingers are sure bound tightly around his wrist when he tucks him into bed.

“Don’t.”

Jaemin peers down at the figure below him. “Don’t what?”

Renjun flutters his eyes open easily, looking rueful and discomfited, a marked contrast from the inebriated one a few minutes ago. “Don’t leave. I’m sorry I was being an ass to you. You don’t deserve it at all.”

Jaemin crosses his arms as Renjun sits up on the bed looking very small and meek. Very uncharacteristic. He pulls Jaemin down so they can talk eye-to-eye. “So you being drunk was a ruse after all.”

“Yes,” Renjun admits, but he hastily defends himself after seeing the look on Jaemin’s face. “I mean every word though. I… I just want to apologize.”

“That’s all?” Jaehyun squints his eyes, feigning distrust. Anger has long evaporated, replaced by miserable pining, but still, he hadn’t been ready to be the one to make the first move. Likewise, Renjun had the same idea, and this stupid dispute of theirs had inadvertently prolonged to ridiculous proportions. 

Renjun looks like he’s having a hard time with the question.

“Remember I told you about my parents?” Renjun says in a whisper.

Jaemin nods, peeling Renjun’s fingers away from his wrist so he can interlace their hands together. 

“I think deep down, honestly, it wasn’t so much of me against the soulmate idea, but it was my fear of falling in love,” Renjun explains, face twisted in a wry grimace. “I felt it would have broken me utterly if I ended up like my mother.”

Jaemin hesitates for a moment, not because he doesn't know what to say but because he wants to make sure he says it right. He brings his forehead down to meet Renjun’s, holding it there because he wants the boy to see the veracity in his eyes. “I like you very much, Renjun. I don’t know if you feel the same way too, but I honestly don’t care. I’m willing to wait until you decide you’re ready.”

Renjun squeezes his eyes shut. When it opens again, wet tears are gathered in those eyes he loves immensely, and Jaemin kisses the first tear that drops on his cheek. 

“Hmm. Salty again.”

Renjun chuckles, a tinkling little laugh, and Jaemin stares, transfixed at those lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He blurts, heart thumping madly in his chest.

Renjun doesn’t reply, only balling his fists in Jaemin’s shirt to bring him down.

With all the wishful scenarios that Jaemin had imagined before he thought he would know all there was to know about kissing him. But gratification is something that can’t be dreamt up in his head as Renjun’s lips pressed up against his own, Renjun’s fingers on his cheeks akin to fire, coursing right down his veins.

Besides, neither are they nine and juvenile, nor are they fifteen and frivolous. They have wasted much time, no use for feathery chaste kisses or innocent experimental pecks in this situation. Frantic and needy, Jaemin presses his body against the boy below, trading body warmth as they deepen the kiss, teeth clashing just slightly.

Sweet, the hint of wine tasted as he sucks on his tongue. 

“Donghyuck and Chenle told me something rather curious.” Renjun pipes, gasping slightly when they draw back for air. Jaemin hadn’t paid any attention, busy licking the expanse of skin under his jaw, sucking tiny marks as he worked down to Renjun’s neck. 

The sweater, he finds is an inconvenience.

Renjun exasperatedly tuts and pulls Jaemin’s head back up, staring determinedly at him. 

“Hmm?” Jaemin dips his hand into his sweater, hands going under the fabric to stroke his stomach.

“Do you hear a hum? Like a weird, prolonged tune that gets stuck in your head for no reason?”

“It’s Sonoeism.” Both say at the exact same time, and Jaemin tilts his head in curious amusement.

“I guess you can hear it. What does it sound like to you?” Renjun probes.

Renjun arches his back a little when Jaemin unclothes him, the adorable sweater first to go, and Jaemin easily strips himself off his top. Renjun pulls his face down for a long-drawn kiss, warm lips meeting, hot breath caressing his cheek with every exhale. “A humming, no– droning.” He whispers against his lips. “Like a very low G note that keeps reverberating until it somehow decides to go away.”

Renjun nods absentmindedly, eyes fiercely trained on Jaemin as he runs a thumb along his nipple. He arches his back when he sucks on the nub, and the boy rubs his crotch against his in desperation. Jaemin lets out a strangled gasp at the pressure, and he sinks back down to lay ruin on his neck again, marking unblemished areas and re-marking some of them.

Fingers trailing down from the dip of his stomach Jaemin hook it in front of his sweatpants, a final question leaving his lips. “You sure about this?”

Renjun appears dazed, breathless, but he nods his head, and Jaemin takes it as approval.

Jaemin doesn’t remember if the conversation even ended properly, everything is but a blur after they cast away their clothing. He hadn’t had the patience for anything else, not when Renjun is so prettily sprawled on the bed, legs split wide to let him in closer. He had half a mind to go slow, to worship Renjun’s pristine body and suck hickeys into every crevice of his body, but he’s too impatient to last, and Renjun is already withering as he wraps his fingers and pumps his shaft.

“W–wait.” Renjun stutters, putting a hand to stop Jaemin, and his cock almost withers. Jaemin gulps, trepidation rising against the heady hunger in his mind.

“You distracted me, dumbass,” Renjun scolds affectionately, pecking him in the lips. “I meant to say I hear it too.”

Hear what too?

A look of uncertainty washes over the Jaemin’s features, and he explains again with a gleeful snicker. “The humming, the Sonoeism crap. I hear it too.”

Jaemin’s heart stutters at his confession. He's saying he likes me too, he only realizes.

Half-leaning against Renjun, hard-on hovering like a kite against the wind, Jaemin swears he’s going to make Renjun pay for it. Pay for the shittiest of timing, pay for the infuriating smirk playing on his lips, pay for the disobedient hands now pressing against the tip of his dick. Jaemin’s legs weaken and he falls, full weight pressed against Renjun’s thighs, and the boy even has the decency to let out a giggle.

“Just so we are on the right page, this is not just a one-time thing, right? That you’re not going to have second thoughts about this, or go dating behind my back, that you like me–”

“Yes, I'm pretty sure,” Renjun grins, tangling his fingers into his hair.

Jaemin exhales shakily, hand reaching out to clasp Renjun's own. Being caught in a divine spell by a man who has no faith in fate and such, the humming in his head begets a truth that reflects in the depth of his lucid eyes.

“I like you too. I like you a lot, Jaemin.”

Jaemin feels his mouth stretching wider than it should, lips torn between grinning or kissing. Both, he decides, and he sinks back down into him.

♫♫♫

Donghyuck finds them asleep the next morning curled together and scantily clothed. He pads into the room on tiptoes, swatting Renjun on the ass which makes him roll off the bed in surprise. Jaemin’s head peeks out from under the sheets, lips awfully swollen and bruised looking, and Donghyuck snickers.

“You guys were so loud yesterday,” Donghyuck complains with his hands propped on his hips like it’s all the reason there is to enter Renjun’s room.

Only clad in his boxers, or was it Jaemin’s, Renjun can’t remember, he gets up from the floor and pads towards his shelf. Eyes barely open, he chucks the first thing that he lays his hand on for Donghyuck’s face. He hears a sick thud, and the boy howls in pain, slamming the door closed as he cries out for Jeno.

“Good aim.” Jaemin grunts and fidgets around, pulling the sheets up so Renjun can cuddle back into his arms. “Merry Christmas.”

“Mhm,” Renjun remarks, pressing a kiss on Jaemin’s forehead. “Merry Christmas.” 

And they drift off again, both of them snuggled in each other's embrace, the first of Christmas snow falling down the window sill.

☆♫☆

Songs that appeared in the fic

Vindicated - Dashboard Confessional
Haven't Met You Yet - Michael Bublé
Survivor - Destiny's Child
Milkshake - Kelis
Misery Business - Paramore
Tapestry - Bruno Major
Miss Murder - AFI
The Anthem - Good Charlotte
The Only Exception - Paramore
Supremacy - Muse
Mr Brightside - The Killers
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Scarborough Fair/Canticle - Simon & Garfunkel
The Climb - Miley Cyrus
Call Me Maybe - Carly Rae Jepsen
Rude - MAGIC!
Let's Get It Started - Black Eyed Peas
I Want You Back - The Jackson Five
Sunday Morning - Maroon 5