Chapter Text
As a little boy, Doyoung hadn’t really grasped the concept of love. His mother always told him about soulmates, and to him, it seemed that a soulmate was someone who showed up randomly in your life; someone who you loved automatically because, well, that’s just how it worked. It bore him, to be honest. And it took a very long while for it to occur to him that soulmates developed in love together.
Taeyong, on the other hand, had read plenty of fairytales to know that love was something that needed nurturing before it blossomed. It excited him.
They met one breezy day at the school playground. Doyoung was picking a bunch of Daisies he wasn’t supposed to, humming to himself when he hears soft cries coming from behind the big maple tree nearby. He tries to ignore it at first, feeling unsure of what to do. He waits a little more and it doesn’t stop, so he tentatively walks up and peers around the tree, flowers still in hand. A little boy is sitting up against the trunk, knees to his chest and his face buried in his hands. His shoulders shake as tiny sobs wrack his body. Doyoung crouches down onto his knees and reaches out to gently pry the other boy’s hands away from his face. The boy startles at Doyoung’s contact and lifts his eyes up to gaze at him. Doyoung takes note of how big and pretty they are. He also takes note of the pink little cone-shaped birthday hat sitting on top of the boy’s head. Doyoung sets his flowers down, picking up one at a time to weave through the elastic tied to the hat. The boy watches him with wide eyes, sniffling every now and then. Doyoung leans back to get a full view of his work, uttering a soft “pretty”, and the boy’s cheeks flush a rosy red.
“Is it your birthday today?” Doyoung asks. The little boy slowly nods his head in reply.
“How old are you turning?” To which the boy raises up five fingers.
“I’m five too! Do you wanna be my friend? We can take turns pushing each other on the swing.” Doyoung suggests.
“I’ve never had a friend before,” the boy admits, avoiding Doyoung’s eyes.
“So what? I’ll be your first.” Doyoung shrugs. At that, he grasps the boy’s skinny wrists and pulls him up, leading him to the swing set. He learns that the boy is afraid of heights and doesn’t like to swing too high. He learns that the boy’s soft giggles when he’s being pushed on the swing are the sweetest sounds Doyoung’s ever heard. He also learns of his name: Taeyong.