Work Text:
Pink.
A warm colour. A colour of love and also compassion, of comfort and warmth.
Chan is surrounded by it, by a soft pastel shade of that same colour. He takes a deep breath, lets his muscles relax in the pink tub full with water. The curtains are a light baby pink and so are the tiles on the floor and on the wall. A vase of pink flowers rests on a corner of the tub, a book perched on the opposite edge. The book cover is also pink but of a deeper shade, almost mauve.
There’s other stuff around but Chan focuses more on the hands that rub shampoo onto his hair, on the tips of the fingers that gently rub his scalp. It’s Minho, his friend Minho who he knows everything and nothing about. But he doesn’t need to know more, or less, he doesn’t need to speak to understand because he doesn’t care to understand.
A cloud. Chan feels like the inside of his head is a fluffy cloud and there are no thoughts travelling there, no anxieties, no insecurities, doubts, anything at all. He closes his eyes and lets himself be lulled by Minho’s calm breathing.
---
Chan’s eyes open slowly. The sun tries to peek through the curtains but the clouds in the sky hinder it’s attempt.
Peace. That’s all Chan can feel right now despite knowing he has to go to work soon. Peace and like something is amiss, something he can’t quite put his finger on. The alarm of his phone buzzes next to his ear and he figures that was it since the days he woke up before the alarm were quite rare. He sighs and gets on with his day.
“Someone looks way too well rested for a Monday morning.” His coworker Changbin says as he rubs his eyes, clearly not having slept much the day before.
“Someone was actually a responsible adult and went to bed at a reasonable hour instead of binge watching youtube videos.” He answers back. The moment he sits on his chair he groans, looking at the pile of folders waiting on his desk.
“That’s not the reason why.” Changbin mumbles under his breath and the demeanour with which he speaks makes Chan and Jisung perk out with curiosity. “I’ve met my soulmate.”
Both of them have to keep quiet in the office so they resort to flailing their limbs and patting Changbin in the leg. There’s smiles on all their faces and Chan’s cheeks hurt so much he thinks they might rip with how hard he’s smiling.
“What do you share?” Jisung asks while grasping Changbin’s forearm and shaking him.
Changbin unlocks his phone and shows a photo of the two, or in this case, the back of their elbows. There’s a matching coloured sunflower and moonflower tattooed on their skin. His soulmate is a freckled young man, with blond hair and a bright smile and Chan can totally see how the two resemble the flowers drawn on their skin.
Sometimes soulmates can share little things like the same Starbucks order, the same odd ring they find, the same moon phase when they are born, or maybe they complete each other’s. They can share the same birthdays, the same moles in the same spots, birth tattoos and marks. Dreams, emotions. From the smallest of things to the biggest, everything can be shared by two souls that are connected to each other.
As Chan rides the bus back home he wonders if he’s ever going to meet his soulmate, what will it be like, how will they be like and what do they share. He’s still thinking about it when his head hits the pillow.
Red.
The colour of passion, of strength. Of danger and blood. Chan can feel it on his tongue as he leans down to crawl under a broken chain link fence.
The sky is of a deep red shade and the only thing that stays standing against it in the horizon is the Namsan tower, black from the shadows and ash that cover it. The world is a dangerous place, no building stands intact after the destruction. Except for the tower.
Minho extends his hand and helps him up. There is dried up blood under his nose and despite the desolation all around there is also hope. Hope for a new beginning, a better one. A siren blares in the distance, telling them it’s exactly six o’clock.
Minho’s hand never leaves his and they stay there, looking at the sky and at the tower in absolute silence with only the wind ruffling their ragged clothes and tangled hairs, whistling as it travels through the shattered windows and rubble of what were once houses with happy voices. It’s sad, infuriating even, but that’s red.
---
The alarm rings and Chan smashes it off. He feels tears prickle his eyes for no reason at all. There’s a gaping hole inside his chest and he lets the tears fall.
Courage. He tries to find courage in himself to get up and go out the door. Courage to face a new day when he’d much rather spend it home, away from everyone and every responsibility. It hits him hard, all the emotions inside his head and the emptiness he feels in his heart. It’s a deep contrast that leaves him confused but he doesn’t fear it.
Instead he moves on.
“Isn’t this a sign?” Seungmin asks. By his side Jeongin looks intrigued.
“A sign of what?” Chan eats another mouthful and watches as the two of them look quizzically at him. The restaurant is noisy since a lot of people decided to grab a meal after work finished late. The three of them are no exception.
“Maybe your soulmate is sick? It’s not always positive things that soulmates share, sometimes it can be sickness too.” Jeongin says with a forlorn look to his face. The two of them probably know more about it than anyone else since one is a doctor and the other is a nurse that work at a hospital near Chan’s workplace.
“Wouldn’t I feel that throughout my entire life then? Maybe I’m just brewing a cold, at least it explains why my head has been so scattered.”
“What do you mean with your head being scattered?” Seungmin takes a few more pieces of meat and Chan puts the couple pieces left on the grill on Jeongin’s bowl so he can grill more.
“I’ve been waking up feeling all kinds of emotions? I don’t really know how to explain it but it’s like when you wake up and you know you’ve been dreaming but you can’t remember anything. Does that make sense?” Chan really wonders if he’s making any sense at this hour of the night.
“Maybe you share dreams?” Jeongin suggests. Chan knows his parents met that way but they remembered their dreams when they woke up and in general it seemed a lot different than what he has been going through.
He leaves the restaurant with a full belly and feeling content from spending time with his friends. Though he leaves with no certain answer to his questions.
Purple.
Colour of mystery, of fantasy and imagination. Magic. Chan loves the idea of magic.
He’s surrounded by the colour inside a subway car travelling in the sky. Looking through the windows one only sees endless rows of white clouds tinted with the deep purple colour that paints the sky. He can’t see the floor, it’s also covered in clouds but he can walk through them. He watches as they scatter away at each step he takes, taking flight before they settle back down. He leaves a trail behind him like an aeroplane does when it crosses the clouds. But that trail doesn’t last, and soon is engulfed by those misty clouds that dance on the floor.
It doesn’t feel like the subway is moving yet if he looks outside the clouds are being left behind. Minho is kicking the ones at his feet. The interior LED white lights make the purple all the more vibrant and it makes Minho look all the more ethereal.
Chan feels attracted to him like a moth to a flame so he steps forward, stopping at arms’ length. Minho looks up at him, his hair seemingly violet. Chan wishes to run a hand through the soft looking strands. He doesn’t.
Minho smiles at him and he responds with one of his own. It’s silent all around, quiet even as they jump up and down through the seats. They share a single mind and wordlessly go to the poles standing lonely in the middle of the subway car and they play around it, they jump and twirl and maybe if Chan could remember this dream when he wakes up he would think of the times when he was a child and wished to do what he is currently doing.
But he doesn’t think of it, of his childhood, of his past. Because there is nothing inside his head besides Minho, Minho, Minho. And so he stops, looks at the man at the other end of the subway car who is also looking at him and he runs towards his arms, kisses him deep, runs his hands through his hair that not only looks but feels soft.
Chan’s in heaven, kissing the man of his dreams whose lips cause shivers running through his spine. He feels his heartbeat in his ears and he hears. He hears the soft sighs that Minho lets out and he immediately swallows. He hears the sound of their lips when they meet, as they glide against each other. But more importantly than that, he feels. He feels Minho gasping against his lips. He feels Minho gripping the front of his shirt so tightly his knuckles turn white. He feels…
Love.
Love is what he feels.
---
The alarm buzzes right next to his ear but Chan ignores it. He has been awake for a while trying to catch his breath as if he was stuck underwater for a brief yet long moment.
Passion. It courses through his veins, making them burn. His body feels left ablaze despite his lungs telling him he was under cold water. The speed at which his heart beats leaves him worried for a second before he takes a deep breath and relaxes back into the feeling that is starting to fade.
He’s distracted throughout the entire day, unable to focus on his work because inside his mind he fantasizes about what he could have possibly been dreaming about to make him feel the way it did. And during the evening too. He can’t stop thinking about it, creating different worlds inside his own head and characters that inhabit those worlds. Hyunjin could be one of the characters, Felix and all his other friends too.
It’s his first time actually getting to know the two of them by himself and not by word of mouth. Felix is now Changbin’s boyfriend after a month of dancing around each other, and Hyunjin is Jisung’s childhood friend who serves at the bar they are currently spending time at. Seungmin and Jeongin should be here any second now and yet that feeling that someone else is missing won’t leave Chan’s head. It’s like butter on a pan, it doesn't matter how much one scrubs it always feels like there is a trace of grease left behind.
And that feeling never disappears, not even on his usual bus ride on the way home or when he rests on his bed, waiting to fall asleep.
Blue.
Today the colour is blue. Colour of peace, the ocean, calm. Blue represents so much: the endless sky, the hottest fire, the serene, trust and loyalty. The infinite and the possibilities.
A beach. Chan stands on a beach of blue water and blue sands but this time there is another colour that makes itself present. There is pink in the skies, soft, pale pink that blooms in the horizon beyond the sea.
When he looks all around him the sand is pristine. There are no footprints, no marks of seagulls' feet. It’s like he landed there from the sky. No one has set foot on this beach.
No one but Minho, who walks by the shore with his arms extended and the wind blowing on his blue clothes. This time their skin isn’t dusted by lights of strong colours, this time Minho’s hair is actually brown, his skin is the colour of skin. And his lips are a pinkish red. The colours are mixing together, instead of being a single hue with a blend of black and white.
There’s footprints on the sand, the ones that Minho leaves behind. He has looked at Chan, smiled at him before turning back and continuing his walk. His footprints are left distorted, some washing away with the tides.
Chan starts following the trances on the sand. He wants to be close to Minho, to hug him, to feel as he exhales on his skin, to kiss him and feel breathless. Though he’s going to be breathless from a different way because Minho starts to run, enticing Chan to chase him.
And for the first time he hears Minho’s voice as he laughs. It’s slightly high pitched, a little breathless because they run for quite a while and then it dwindles into a giggle, making Chan giggle too. Freedom. Minho’s laugh represents freedom.
Minho comes to a halt and turns towards Chan who stops and observes the way the natural light hits Minho’s sharp features. He walks closer, never once looking away from those brown eyes that glinter with an emotion Chan can’t quite put his finger on.
Butterflies appear in front of his eyes as he keeps walking. Why are there butterflies by the sea?
He blinks.
In that fraction of a second the surrounding changes. They are not on a beach anymore but in a dry grassy field, in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the blue sky and endless hills extending before their very eyes. And he’s not standing but sitting and there’s a heavy weight on top of his thighs. Butterflies flap their wings around him, dancing with the breeze.
Yellow.
Minho is reading a book, the cover yellow, matching the shirt he’s wearing. His skin glows under the bright sun and his long eyelashes create streaks of shadows on his skin. He looks sleepy, like he’ll close his eyes and the book will fall on his face at any second. It’s an endearing sight and Chan’s heart beats stronger in his chest. He’s beautiful like this, peaceful.
Chan runs a hand through Minho’s hair and grins when he sees the other’s eyes fluttering close. Soft. Gentle. Warm. Yellow.
---
Sadness and Warmth.
Crystal tears flow on Chan’s skin. Slivers of the dream he just had come to his mind. It’s the first time he actually remembers anything and he feels it, in his heart and in his hand. He looks at it, at the hand that caressed Minho’s hair. It all felt so real it raises goosebumps on his skin. He knows it’s not real, he’s never met anyone named Minho with that face.
Wait. What does his face even look like? Chan can’t remember, he is starting to forget.
He scrambles for anything, for a piece of paper or his phone. He gives up when his shaky hands can’t get past the code to unlock it and he sits there, sinking in despair.
The alarm doesn’t ring because it’s the weekend.
Green. White.
And red. And blue. And yellow. And so many other colours.
A tulip field, the stems green. Green of harmony, of growth and prosperity. Of luck. Their petals are silky soft, of reds and yellows. White, the colour of purity and clarity.
Chan hopes for some clarity. It’s the first time he can think in these weird spaces that are starting to feel like nothing but vivid dreams. He feels conscious this time.
There’s white clouds in the blue sky. And in that blue sky there are hot air balloons painting it like the blinking stars at night, scattered on that same sky.
Chan watches the hot air balloons travel, flying away from him. When his eyes glance away from the sky he finds Minho in the middle of the field, the balloons becoming smaller and smaller behind his head. It’s like the world is trying to get away from Chan and running towards Minho, only to then keep getting away. The wind rises, sweeping the hairs towards their eyes. It's a cold day.
Today is different. Today there is no cloud in Chan’s brain that stops him from thinking and lets him enjoy the moment. Today he doesn’t follow his heart but his head.
“You’re not real are you?” He asks the stranger who he has called Minho in his dreams before. Who he has longued and yearned for. Who he has kissed. Who he has loved.
He’s still inside a dream but today it is different.
“I am. You just haven’t found me yet.” Minho’s voice is clear and so, so smooth and soft and beautiful and Chan is so in love with this person that he doesn’t even know but feels like he’s the right one, the one Chan wants to chase through eternity on the shore of a beach, on a grassy or tulip field. The one he wants to feel embracing him and making him relax after a warm shower, the one he wants to hold hands with. The one he wants to kiss passionately. He knows nothing about this man and yet…
A soulmate.
Minho is Chan’s soulmate.
He inhales a sharp breath and the moment he opens his mouth he is pulled back by an immense force that paralyzes him, that makes him stop breathing and makes him mute. He can’t scream, the only thing he can do is watch as he is sucked out of this dimension and the edges turn black as Minho and the tulip field get further and further away with his soulmate at the center.
And all that covers his vision is black.
---
Chan startles awake.
An end. Death, cold and empty.
Strange. He feels like he just had a nightmare yet he can’t remember a single part of it. Of that and all the weird past couple of months where he wakes up with a similar feeling. He shrugs it away and goes on with his day.
Days go by until they turn into weeks who in turn, bleed into months.
Months of loneliness no matter how many people Chan surrounded himself with. Months of waking up with a gaping hole in his chest from missing something he doesn’t know. Empty. He’s a shell of a person, too tired to sleep, too tired to stay awake. His friends ask him what’s wrong and everytime he replies with ‘nothing’. What is he meant to reply when he himself doesn’t know what’s wrong?
Eventually he learns to live with the solitude, learns to appreciate it and turns it into comfort. It gets better overtime, the gaping hole in the mornings is still there but he can manage it well now, is used to it by now. It takes time, but time is known to heal.
Chan sighs and turns off his third alarm. He has to hurry out of the house or he’ll be late for work and hear a handful from Changbin who was promoted recently and is now his superior. And the handful means he will be hearing about Felix nonstop.
Time heals and time goes by fast when one least expects it.
Chan boards the bus on his way home. It’s not nearly as crowded as usual and he thanks the skies for it because for once he has an empty seat he can sit on. The ride is long and surprisingly the bus is still quite empty after a handful of stops. He has his earphones in, playing something that his mind does not even register.
The sky is light blue with a hue of pink where the sun has set. It’s warm, makes him feel content.
The bus stops. More people come in, and this time they’re quite a few. And when Chan looks away from the glass and the cityscape he’s drawn in by chestnut brown hair that looks incredibly soft, sharp features and pink lips. Brown doe eyes that widen when they make eye contact.
Something feels… off?
No. Quite the contrary.
Something feels whole. The piece that was missing, it feels like it’s walking towards him.
Chan doesn’t look away, he can’t, he’s entranced, under a spell. The stranger sits next to him and it feels right, it simply makes sense for some odd reason. The gaping hole in his heart becomes full.
“I’m Minho. Nice to meet you.”