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The universe works in mysterious ways. This is a statement Donghyuck has been told countless times when the topic of romantic love is broached.
Be careful with your heart; your soulmate is often not the one you expect. You have to be open to the signs.
Yes, signs, because, as if it isn’t enough for things to be mysterious, the universe also has to work, quite literally and quite counterintuitively, in metaphorical ways.
Soulmates find each other in materialised tropes, in moments made of symbolism that take an actual, physical consistency. Thankfully, these are often heavy-handed with easily recognizable red-threaded stereotypes: there are tangled scarlet scarfs grabbed at the same moment in a shop’s display, hands brushing against one another, or ruby leashes getting twisted together by suddenly playful dogs under the wide-eyes of their stumbling owners.
Very specific scenarios that repeat infinitely, with some variation but always with that red thread marking the beginning of blossoming relationships.
Though cliché, it makes life slightly more poetic in its embodied imagery, a pleasurable kind when the symbols are clearly identifiable. Life then takes the shape of a dreamy rom-com movie. After all, there is a reason a scenario or motif becomes a cliché; people enjoy that instant when the pieces of the puzzle finally fit, when their heart flutters with hope as they recognise that life-altering moment.
Sometimes though, sometimes, it’s infinitely more subtle. Sometimes the universe becomes creative, weaving the threads more figuratively.
Sometimes, Donghyuck thinks sullenly, the universe works in a fucking annoyingly obscure way.
Is he meant to constantly be doing a close reading of his own life as if it was a literary piece, as if every red-tinted interaction was fraught with meaning?
“Why are you sighing so much and why are you staring at these earphones as if they’ve personally slighted you?” Chenle snatches the offending item before Donghyuck has the chance to protest. “Wait, are those actually two sets? Wow! How did you get them so tangled together?”
Donghyuck shrugs and tries to grab them back, but Chenle’s fingers are already tugging at the black and wine-coloured cords to separate them.
“Why are you using these anyway? Have you lost your airpods again, hyung?” Chenle asks, without taking his eyes off the task.
It’s spoken in a teasing manner meant to annoy him, but Donghyuck can only hum because indeed he has yet again lost his airpods.
Donghyuck sometimes wishes that the name of your soulmate would just show up on your skin, kind of like a tattoo, branded and clear, or that the thread of fate would be an actual thread connecting their pinkies together. He’s not sure how it would work (it’d be super impractical, wouldn’t it?), but, at this point, he’d take a gigantic arrow pointing right at his soulmate over any of the cryptic stuff he’s currently dealing with.
You see. It’s not that he doesn’t get any signs. He’s just getting signs with no tags attached, without anyone else at the other end of his metaphorical thread.
“Whose earphones are those?” Chenle asks, and Donghyuck is impressed by his untangling skills. Of course Chenle would be good at that. He got his soulmate sign quite clearly, in a game of Twister back at the dorms, the pink cordons of his sweater somehow getting twisted with Jisung’s. They had to get scissors to free them both.
“The black ones are mine.” Donghyuck answers, “I don’t know about the others.”
Chenle raises an eyebrow at him, and Donghyuck looks away, meeting Renjun’s eyes in the changing room’s mirror.
“I found them in my coat pocket,” he adds, before blowing a kiss at Renjun. Renjun mimes deflecting it before he turns around to talk to Jeno, and Donghyuck can almost see his kiss floating away and landing on Mark, sprawled on a chair, unaware as he busily types away at his phone.
This morning Donghyuck had found the tangled earphones in the coat he’d borrowed from Mark, the same coat that he’d then lent to Renjun and that he’d somehow recovered from Jeno’s room.
“There you go.” Chenle deposits both sets of earphones now tidily folded on the countertop. Donghyuck can’t help but stare at them, lips thinning in annoyance.
“Hyung,” Chenle says. He’s got an uncharacteristically serious look. “Don’t overthink it.”
Donghyuck can’t help but scowl at the words. “Easy for you to say.”
Chenle’s mouth stretches into a small smile. “If you really wanted to know, you’d just ask.” He pats Donghyuck on the shoulders before leaving him alone to stare at the non-tangled, ownerless cords.
Donghyuck scoffs. As if it could be that easy. As if the last time he’d asked, things hadn’t just gotten weird.
A loud sigh escapes from his lips. Mark looks up from his phone to throw him a questioning look. Donghyuck shakes his head, shrugging, before pouting at him.
Sometimes, he thinks the universe’s mixed signals are the karmic price for his indiscriminate flirting and that he should just ignore them, though not everyone agrees with his assessment.
Mark always goes on about how he’s “just oblivious to the signs, Hyuck,” and “you’re just not reading them right you know.”
Of course, Mark loves that kind of metaphorical mess. He breathes and thinks that way. It’s gold in his mind; he savours it, writes it down, and interprets it into actual poetry and songs.
For Christmas, Mark gave him a book, How to read the signs, and Donghyuck almost threw it away until he realised that it was a used book with highlighted sentences and Mark’s scribblings in the margins ( most imp remains how the person makes you feel inside was inked in blue pen next to the paragraph on studies about soulmate compatibility and success rates).
To tell the truth, for a time, he had thought Mark had been the one.
It felt like destiny, the way they met, trained and debuted together, but then Mark met his actual soulmate, Mina: a tangled scarf scenario followed by the “we’re reading the same book” which has incidentally a red cover, followed by the “we’ve got one red umbrella only and the sky is pouring” and that was it.
(Sometimes Donghyuck wonders if people carry red items on purpose, but he’s also been carrying red items errr... accidentally.... and nothing but foggy moments (at best!) have ever happened.)
At that time, his heart felt squashed against the weight of unrequited feelings and he read on the phenomenon of multiple soulmates and even on the platonic soulmate theory. This drove him to open up about his feelings and to question Mark’s certainty about Mina (maybe a bit rudely), leading to a big fight that had only been resolved when he apologised and chalked it all up to a one-sided silly crush.
Inside, he was still as confused as ever, but he’d decided there and then to only focus on music and NCT. Maybe he wasn’t meant to have a soulmate at all; some never encountered their red-threaded moment.
He was successfully ignoring the topic until hints made themselves known here and there, something tugging right at the corner of his eyes, perceptible and yet unreadable.
Resting on the countertop, the thin wine-coloured cords seem to mock him. He shoves them into his bag when it’s his turn for the photoshoot.
ღ
“Maybe it’s because you’re both in denial,” Doyoung remarks out of the blue. They’re on the beach, waiting to film a lip-synching scene for their “From Home” music video.
“What?” Donghyuck blinks at him, the sun making his eyes squint.
“Your soulmate problem. Maybe it’s because you’re both in denial.”
Donghyuck eyes the ring resting on one of Doyoung’s fingers and with which his hyung is absentmindedly playing. He swallows before replying, “Why would you say that? What do you mean denial?”
“Maybe because you thought someone else was your soulmate at some point, got hurt, and now the universe is having difficulties pushing you together?” Doyoung says, quite softly but it still makes Donghyuck’s stomach clench.
“Maybe the universe should work harder then,” he replies finally, his gaze back on the ocean.
Doyoung laughs. He opens his mouth to reply but he’s cut off by the director. The music starts and Donghyuck looks back at the camera.
It’s only later when they’re filming inside, and he’s listening to Renjun sing the closing lines, one arm around his shoulder, cosy warmth spreading to his chest, that he remembers Doyoung’s use of both. Who else was he referring to?
As the last note fades and cameras stop rolling, his gaze falls on Doyoung, who meets him with a knowing smile, eyes flickering to Donghyuck’s right.
To Renjun.
Donghyuck rolls his eyes. What would the odds of that be?
He doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice: getting the idea into his head that one of his fellow bandmates is his soulmate and making things awkward again.
ღ
After that day, he avoids Renjun. And Doyoung too. He’d rather not be subjected to his annoying knowing glances thank you very much. Not that it’s any use as Doyoung decides to text him more explicit hints. As in: Renjun is your soulmate you silly. Followed by: I’m tired of your sulking just ask him out. But have you ever heard of a story where you’re told that someone is your soulmate and it turns out to be true? No, Donghyuck doesn’t think so.
It’s still easy to avoid Renjun when they’re working with all the members together and rehearsing at different times, although he has to be careful to restrain his natural tendency to gravitate towards him.
Fate, though, has other plans.
Something terribly cliché happens and, if they didn’t live in such a terribly convoluted world where these things happened on the daily, he’d suspect foul play and the involvement of Doyoung. Maybe Mark too because he’s such a sucker for a happy ending and Doyoung definitely told on him by the way Mark’s been trying to get him closer to Renjun (in the car, at mealtimes... but Donghyuck is quicker and sneakier, of course).
What happens you ask? They get locked in a practice room together, late in the evening, phone batteries dead and no charger in sight.
Donghyuck stays behind to practice by himself for a little bit when Renjun pops in with some snacks after his vocal lessons.
There’s no way to avoid him and, truthfully, Donghyuck doesn’t want to.
He lets his head fall against Renjun’s shoulder as they munch on some peperos while leaning against the mirror, sitting down on Renjun’s fluffy scarlet scarf. Renjun shows him some silly videos on his phone and they ignore the 1% displayed on the right corner of the screen until the phone turns off.
“Oh no,” Renjun pouts. Donghyuck looks away and sits up straighter. “Where’s your phone?” he asks him.
“It’s probably dead too. It was at five percent when I last looked at it,” Donghyuck replies, reaching for his bag. And, yeah, his phone shuts down as soon as Donghyuck turns the screen on and so they decide to leave. Except just as Renjun tries to open the door, it remains stubbornly locked.
Donghyuck also tries, sweaty hands slipping twice off the handle as the situation downs on him and something like hope starts to blossom in his chest. Still facing the door, back to Renjun, he tries to squash it down but Doyoung’s texts are imprinted in his mind. Just ask him out. He should, probably, even if Renjun is not his soulmate. He doesn’t even have to mention the soulmate thing.
He’s startled out of his thoughts by the feeling of a soft fabric brushing against his face. Donghyuck grasps it as it comes to rest around his neck. It’s a deep red and smells warm, like Renjun. It’s pulled tighter and then two arms are circling his waist, a chin coming to rest on top of the fabric, in the crook of his neck and Donghyuck freezes.
“I guess the red thread of fate has caught us,” Renjun whispers against his skin and Donghyuck shivers.
“Is that your scarf?” It comes out slightly breathy; his heart feels like it’s literally going to burst out of his chest, his fingers tingling as his hands find Renjun’s, coming to rest on top of them as Renjun tightens his grip.
“Maybe. Maybe it’s fate’s,” Renjun replies, his voice betraying a hint of nerves. “Which would you prefer?”
Donghyuck leans back into Renjun’s warmth, head falling onto his shoulder, savouring the way he can feel his heart beat frantically against him. It feels just right.
“I don’t mind either way.”
Renjun sighs and presses a kiss against Donghyuck’s neck, and, as Renjun’s hold relaxes, Donghyuck interlaces their fingers and finds he really doesn’t mind.