Chapter Text
One hundred twenty-seven pages.
Taeyong has exhausted exactly one hundred twenty-seven pages of his journal and he’s still yet to receive a response from his soulmate.
Some statistics say there’s a huge percentage that by the time you’ve turned sixteen, you have already met ‘the one’. And it’s true to some of Taeyong’s friends. He has seen his friends have that magical, once-in-a-lifetime moment wherein their soulmate’s words finally write across their journal — meaning they have at last crossed paths — in that breath-taking, heart-hammering experience. He has seen them meet their soulmates, fall in love, and gush about how romantic movies weren’t bullshitting about the excellence of the primordial connection you feel about your other half the instant you meet them — like it’s truly meant to be.
Though, Taeyong knows for certain now that he’s not part of that big chunk of percentage because he just turned eighteen and yet to read his soulmate’s words on his own journal.
When Taeyong’s mother was still alive, she used to tell him that he shouldn’t wait for his soulmate to arrive, that he should just live his life and date and kiss the boys or girls he likes. He didn’t need to feel bound to his soulmate at such a young age. He didn’t need to constantly write on his journal and update every single thing that’s happening to him to his soulmate if he didn’t wish to, because once you’ve crossed paths with each other, all the words you’ve ever written will become visible and your other half will be able to see and read everything in the journal.
Taeyong, however, is a hopeless romantic and he religiously believes on the universe’s love language to humanity — that universe knows the perfect person for you and in the right time, it will generously give you that person.
Taeyong’s pen hovers shakily at the back of the one hundred twenty-seventh leaf. The car is entering an unfamiliar neighborhood so he decides to write on his journal to ease his nerves. He carefully uses his knee to balance the hard-bound material while his right hand readies to write the words.
I’m about to enter a new life together with my dad. We’re moving into a new household. My stepmom is a genuinely kind lady so I like her. I heard she has a son my age. It doesn’t sound so bad, right? But I’m nervous. The neighborhood seems posh. Have you ever looked at something so beautiful that it becomes so daunting? Like I’m not supposed to look at such magnificence.
“We’re here, Yongie.” His father’s soft voice pulls him back to reality and he puts his journal in his backpack with nimble fingers.
The car is parked in a driveway of a mansion that’s about three sizes larger than their old home. Taeyong has never been in a neighborhood this opulent that he’s starting to worry whether he’ll be able to keep up with this kind of lifestyle from now on. He gulps when he remembers about the son and the school he’ll be attending in starting tomorrow.
He sees his stepmom emerge from the large mahogany front doors with a boy he suspects is at least six feet tall in tow. The woman hugs his father which leaves him to look awkwardly at the boy. He finds the height difference ridiculous and unfair because he has to crane his neck slightly in order to make eye contact.
“Hi! I’m Youngho but everyone calls me Johnny,” the black-haired boy — his step-sibling — brazenly says with a wink. “So whichever you prefer is fine. I heard we’re same-age so it’s best we eliminate all the awkwardness from the get-go.”
Taeyong feels himself relax. The air around the boy is so light and pleasant that he thinks he can definitely work with that. He can already tell they’ll get along just fine. He smiles. “Yeah, I’ll definitely call you Youngho since I’m not used to calling someone their English name. I’m Taeyong.”
“Perfect,” Johnny beams and he moves when Taeyong starts walking to the trunk where his father is already unloading their stuff. “So, Taeyong, would you like some hand?”
“I’d appreciate it.” He smiles gratefully.
“Just get your things, boy, and I’ll take care of mine.” His dad says.
“Oh, why don’t you show him to his room, John?”
“Of course, mom.” Johnny replies and he waits patiently as the woman gives Taeyong a hug and a series of generous pecks across his face which makes the young boy chuckle in embarrassment.
“Don’t take this the wrong way but I think your mom is a lot.” Taeyong breathes out a laugh as soon as they’re inside and the adults are out of earshot. As expected, the interior of the house is just as stunning as the rest of the property is — all expensive hardwood and smooth, gleaming-to-perfection stones. But it doesn’t seem as intimidating anymore as compared to when they have just arrived, not when the residents are as congenial as they can get.
“Oh, definitely,” Johnny laughs as well. “I already feel sorry for you for all the physical doting you’ll get from her onwards. But you know, I think it’s to make up for the fact that I don’t allow her to do that to me anymore. So yeah, good luck with that, I guess.”
“So you’re saying that you’re just gonna sit back and watch me go through hell and back?” Taeyong gapes at the boy as they both take the stairs.
“Oh, I’d enjoy it for sure,” Johnny returns, smooth and good-natured, but then his expression switches from smug into something earnest. “And Taeyong, from now on it’s our mom, not just my mom. Okay?”
Taeyong can’t help but blush from the embarrassment that the topic invokes, but even that quickly fades away from how sincere Johnny sounded, and the uneasiness he felt earlier leaves his body completely. He’s in good hands. He bites his lip and nods wordlessly.
Johnny turns to blush as well. “God, I’m not particularly fond of this topic either but I figured I’ll have you know so that you don’t feel like you aren’t accepted in this home, or something. But anyways, we’re here. This is your room.”
The taller promptly opens the door and gets inside to settle Taeyong’s belongings near the foot of the queen-sized bed. Taeyong follows suit, trying so hard not to gape at his new, obviously bigger and better room. It’s oozing with extravagance like the rest of the house, unsurprisingly, but his favorite thing about it is how ample the light is streaming from the windows. The atmosphere is perfectly vibrant and airy just like how he wants it and if he slides the curtains further to the sides, he can wholly welcome the sun in.
“This is really lovely. I’ll make sure to thank mom later.” His cheeks flush once again.
Johnny grins and points a finger to the still-open door. “My room is in the door opposite, so if you need anything, just knock.”
“Thanks, Youngho.”
“No problem. I’ll leave you to your matters, then.”
With that, the tall boy exits. Taeyong breathes out a pleasant sigh and promptly falls on his back on the bed. He doesn’t realize how mentally and physically exhausting the couple of days has been with all the packing and preparing himself for a new life and a new school and at last the moving until now that his body melts into the soft mattress. He closes his eyes and drifts to sleep instantly, not caring about how he should probably have a shower first. The last thing he wonders about is when he’ll meet his soulmate.
“Shit. I’m so sorry for dragging you with me so early in the morning.” Johnny mutters while simultaneously trying to stifle a yawn. He winces before he frantically takes another sip of his coffee.
“Are you okay?” Taeyong glances worriedly at him. When Johnny nods silently, he quickly says, “It’s fine, you know. I don’t mind. I had a good rest last night. Though, at the crack of dawn, my body wouldn’t let me sleep anymore. Must be the nerves, huh?”
“Oh yeah, first day of classes always suck.”
Taeyong unconsciously scrunches his nose at the thought. Johnny is his ride to school and though he really doesn’t mind that he’s forced to come so early in the morning, it’s still too early and not to mention it’s literally his first day as a transferee student. He doesn’t know anybody yet. He doesn’t want to tail behind Johnny all the time, either. And judging by the sound of it, the boy must have an important business to take care for. He doesn’t want to get in his way.
“What were you needed for in so early in the morning, anyway?” He asks.
“Student council duties, baby,” Johnny whistles playfully. “I’m a member of the committee.”
Taeyong cocks a brow at him. “That’s impressive.”
The spacious parking lot of the school grounds come into view and Johnny expertly maneuvers them to one of the spots. Unsurprisingly, majority of the spaces are still vacated. Taeyong gulps and his shoulders tense all of a sudden, sensing the nervousness rush through his body. His hands come to find purchase at the straps of his backpack and he grips tightly.
Thankfully, Johnny stops being apologetic by the time they get off the car and doesn’t make a fuss about Taeyong’s internal predicament. He doesn’t want to delay him or worse, force him to say it’s okay to come along to whatever he’s tasked to do. Instead, Johnny just casually bids him a cheery ‘see you later’ and then he’s walking away.
Taeyong decides to walk around the school for the meantime to bide his time. His first subject is still an hour later and he knows he would just get sleepy if he waits inside the classroom. The school is nothing much different from his former, although this one is undoubtedly more spacious and lavish and expensive.
His eyes light up when he reaches the side of a building facing the quad. It’s impressively wide and so generously vibrant with green even though the sun hasn’t fully shone yet. There are a few trees scattered across the open area surrounded at four sides and at the corners, quaint wooden benches border them.
Taeyong finds the perfect spot under a shade of the tree to rest for the remaining of his wait. There are a few students passing by, some alone and some by batches, so he thinks he doesn’t have to wait for long. He remembers his journal and deems this moment as something worth sharing. He excitedly takes it out of his backpack.
As he decides about what to write, an odd tingling sensation suddenly rips through his body — rooting from his core down to the very tips of his limbs. He shivers and his heart stops for a second. With shaky fingers, he leafs through his journal all the way to the one hundred twenty-seventh page. There, he sees the last entry he wrote yesterday, except it’s not exactly the last entry now.
White noise rings in his ears. His heart stops some more.
Yes, I did. Just now. When I saw you for the first time. Hello, angel.
Taeyong feels the tips of his fingers turn cold. He blinks, reads the words his soulmate has written to him for the first time again to make sure, and then he blinks some more. He stares at the words for so long that by the time he has to blink, the words had engraved at the back of his eyelids like a permanent ink.
Just then, the bell rings and he’s forced to rise to his feet. Before he sprints toward his first class, though, he takes note of the people hovering idly by the quad. There are a bunch of students chatting and clutching their books to their chests as if to shield themselves from the morning breeze, some are sitting at the benches, and some simply passing by. What catches Taeyong’s attention the most is the lone guy napping on one of the benches with a book perched atop his face.
It can’t possibly be him, right?
There are a few things that don’t quite make sense in Taeyong’s head. He’s finally crossed paths with his soulmate but why does he still feels… incomplete? Isn’t it unfair that his soulmate had seen him but not Taeyong himself? Why didn’t his soulmate walk up to him and introduce their self? Did they not like his appearance? But that can’t be it, right? The universe is never wrong about the person someone is destined to be with. No superficial things can amount to the bond soulmates are bound to share, be it apart or together.
And the journal. Taeyong can’t see any writings. It’s supposed to be filled with the writings his soulmate had written throughout their life by now, yet he can’t find anything. It’s just sad and empty. Only his words are present and the singular entry his soulmate wrote that morning. Can it be that his soulmate never wrote anything intentionally? But… why?
Taeyong stops hugging his knees to crawl to the edge of his bed and snatch his journal. It’s already evening when he musters the courage to respond at last.
I’m far from being daunting, he writes, forgoing any greeting. And what’s with the nickname?
He chews on his lower lip nervously as he stares into the wall. He contemplates taking a bath since he likely won’t get a reply so immediate, right? But alas, he looks down at the page, and the words are magically writing themselves on the leaf. He can almost imagine his soulmate holding a pen and writing. He’s enthralled.
Were they waiting for him? His heart picks up speed at the thought.
It must be the white hair. And although your mullet is quite contradicting to the angel image, somehow it fits still. You’re… really pretty.
Taeyong blushes defiantly. But not pretty enough for you to walk up and say hi? he writes back rather pettily, unable to help himself.
Like I’ve said, you were pretty daunting to look at, he reads. And it wouldn’t be so gentleman of me to just walk up and startle you with this whole thing.
So it’s a boy. Taeyong blushes even more but he quickly brushes it off. What do you mean startle me?
Have you ever considered the possibility of you not liking me at all? is the quick response.
Taeyong frowns deeply. Why won’t I like you? It’s impossible. We’re literally soulmates.
He doesn’t get a reply back.
Taeyong pockets his phone after he reads the text he received from Johnny telling him to wait up by the car while he’s occupied in a council meeting. It’s the end of the week and by now, he’s kind of used to waiting for Johnny every afternoon after dismissal while he attends to his responsibilities. He’s not peeved or anything, but it does get kind of boring to some extent, and it doesn’t help his case that Taeyong’s a hermit. He’s learned since to drown out his surroundings by bringing his earphones while waiting.
Except today, he seems to have a companion.
A boy is leaning against the driver’s window. He’s definitely taller than Taeyong is. He has an undercut, inky hair tousled on top of his head, overgrown bangs haphazardly close to hitting his eyes. Taeyong frowns just imagining the ends accidentally stabbing him in the eye. And is that a cased guitar hanging off one of his shoulders?
But there’s something off-putting about him, which Taeyong can only pinpoint once he nears.
There’s a frown marring his otherwise incredibly attractive face, as if it’s permanently etched in there. It doesn’t go away even when they make eye contact — or rather, when Taeyong looks at him. The other seems to not quite meet his eye.
And then the boy shifts his head slightly to the side, meeting the last remnants of the sunset dead-on. A glint; a fiery glint. Taeyong feels his heart race. A small, gold hoop earring dangles from the boy’s right ear and Taeyong is instantly spellbound. Despite feeling incredibly awkward, Taeyong gives him a curt nod out of courtesy.
He must be Johnny’s friend and he must be here to carpool, although Johnny didn’t mention a friend who will join them today. Taeyong chalks it off as not a big deal. It’s Johnny’s car after all and he can have his friends hitch a ride as long as he wants to.
Taeyong goes straight to the other side of the car and leans against near the passenger door so he can be away from the stranger as much as possible. He’s not sure whether he’s being rude for not making an effort to strike a conversation with Johnny’s friend, but it doesn’t look like the boy is up for it either.
He merely shrugs to himself and takes out his earphones. Maybe keeping to himself is the better decision. The boy seems rather annoyed as is.
And so the long wait begins.
Occasionally, he would steal what he hopes are subtle glances at the stranger’s direction and finding him preoccupied with his own phone. He tries hard not to snoop but in the end, curiosity gets him. He takes a furtive glance at the screen. It’s showing an Instagram explore page with endless rows and columns of cute animal videos, specifically cats.
Taeyong flinches when the boy bounces off from the window all of a sudden and starts walking up to him. His mouth is moving but Taeyong’s still processing his embarrassment to have the mind to take off his earphones. He quickly pulls at them once the boy is standing in front of him, towering over his smaller frame.
“Come again?” He asks sheepishly.
“I said let’s go.” The boy replies simply as he adjusts the strap of his guitar case.
“Huh? But what about Youngho?”
“He’s not coming. Come on, unless you want to get swarmed by mosquitoes.”
Taeyong blinks rapidly in confusion before ultimately pinning the stranger with a hard frown. He pushes himself off the car as well and pockets his phone. “What do you mean come on? We’re not leaving without him. This is his car and he’s got the keys, may I remind you…”
“It’s Jaehyun.”
“What?”
“My name’s Jaehyun.” He repeats, louder.
Taeyong flushes before he huffs defiantly, crossing his arms across his chest. “Okay, Jaehyun. Now will you be so kind to tell me why Youngho isn’t coming?”
Jaehyun merely chuckles sarcastically, impudent, and his gaze strays away momentarily as he does so. He’s got this look in his face as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Taeyong is confused, on the other hand. It’s a genuine question and he doesn’t see how it can be potentially offensive. He does, however, notice that Jaehyun’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s almost sardonic. Then, totally against Taeyong’s will, his gaze darts to the piece of jewelry pierced through Jaehyun’s ear.
He’s pulled back to reality when Jaehyun turns his back on him and begins walking back to the driver’s side.
“Wait, how are we supposed to get in?” He asks, confused.
Jaehyun wordlessly pulls something out of his pocket and in the next second, he’s brandishing a shiny set of keys to Taeyong whose mouth promptly falls open in surprise.
“You got the keys all this time?” He asks indignantly, voice barely heard under the sound of a car door being slammed shut. He clicks his tongue and climbs into the shotgun, finding Jaehyun’s guitar already nestled on the backseats. “Why did you let us wait outside? Does Youngho even know you got his keys? Because as far as I know, he was gonna drive me.”
Jaehyun pauses on his movements after he’s got his seatbelt on to pin his gaze on Taeyong. He’s raising a thick brow at him. “How do you expect me to answer your question when you keep bombarding me with the next ones?”
Taeyong promptly blushes and he casts his gaze down to avoid Jaehyun’s penetrating one. It’s one thing to be within this boy’s vicinity but it’s another thing to be in an enclosed space with him — something that puts off all of Taeyong’s defenses, reducing him to red cheeks and timidity. Jaehyun’s words are like ice, cold and defensive, but his voice tells another story. It’s soft and dulcet, almost regretful. And Taeyong wonders why he’s reading too much into this stranger in the first place.
“Fine,” he sighs. “Will you at least answer my first question?”
“He’s still hung up. The meeting has been unexpectedly extended for another couple of hours. He said he didn’t want you to miss out on dinner so he asked me to drive you instead. Then he realized his keys were missing,” Jaehyun chuckles as he begins to maneuver the car out of the parking area and pass the gates. “So, to answer your next question, he does know I’ve got his keys, although belatedly.”
“You must be close to him.” Taeyong comments quietly.
“Like brothers. He’s used to my antics,” Jaehyun says, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. “You. You’re his stepbrother, right?”
“Yeah, I just moved in,” he nods, sending the other a small, shy smile. “I’m Taeyong, by the way.”
“I know.” A whisper.
“Pardon?”
Jaehyun clears his throat. “I mean, you’re Johnny’s stepbrother. Of course I know you.”
“Oh, okay.” He nods once again, turning his attention back outside the window.
Taeyong’s mind somehow wanders off to his soulmate and what happened last night. Why didn’t he get a reply back? He must’ve upset the boy. Still, he wonders what exactly made him upset. Was it Taeyong’s insistence? Did he get annoyed with it? In the end, he comes to an absolute conclusion amidst this train of confusion: he’s going to write for him tonight.
“We’re here.” Jaehyun’s deep voice pulls him out of his musing.
“Thanks for the ride,” he says quickly, climbing out of the car with ease. The frown is back on Jaehyun’s face when he doesn’t close the door yet. He hesitates to close the door yet. “Um. Would you like to come in for dinner?”
“Yeah, no thanks.” Jaehyun replies coldly, reaching out for the handle inside so he can close the door himself.
Was that too much? He was just trying to be nice. After all, Jaehyun went through the trouble of bringing him home. It was only fair to invite him for dinner. Right? Or did he overstep?
Taeyong blinks, befuddled, as he watches the back of the vehicle speeding away rapidly. Instead of the taillights, the image of Jaehyun’s gold earring snatching the last of the sunlight flickers behind his eyelids.
Taeyong wills himself to stop biting his nails. He’s fresh out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his neck, and all snuggled in his matching pajamas. Feeling a bit restless, he drums his fingers repeatedly on the desk, gaze sending daggers to his journal lying on top of the table. Finally, he huffs in defeat and slides it closer to him.
Hi, he writes.
Just like last time, the answer comes immediately. Hey, angel, it reads.
It seems you have so much time in your hands, judging from how quick your replies come each time.
I have my journal glued to my hands. You know, just in case my beautiful soulmate would write to me. Wouldn’t dream of missing it.
A thunderous explosion erupts from Taeyong’s core, spreading across his chest so that it slightly hurts. But instead of viciousness, there’s a sweet wave of sensation blossoming throughout, as if his heart recognizes whom it beats for so eagerly at this moment. He tries to fight off the feeling but in the end, he blushes furiously at his soulmate’s cheesiness.
Kidding aside, the words appear again before he can scramble for a reply. Truthfully, I’ve been waiting for you to write since... the last time. It was childish of me to end it with such a bad note. I’m sorry.
Taeyong stares at the words far too long to be considered normal. He contemplates, and then remembers he hasn’t given his response yet. His hand hovers over the page, held back with the sense of hesitancy. All of a sudden, the insubstantial weight of the towel wrapped loosely around his nape has become burdensome. Hey, do you want to try something with me? He writes at last.
Indulge me.
I want to get to know you. I was thinking maybe we can try to give each other some facts about ourselves. It doesn’t always have to be deep. You know, just random things like your personality, hobbies, preferences, or how your day went. But of course, only if you want to.
Taeyong waits patiently for the response, choosing to dry his hair and then putting aside the towel once he’s done. When the letters are finally still on the leaf of his journal, he reads them with a silently pounding heartbeat. Oh, I think you’ve already done your part for that matter, though, and so much more, the other wrote.
Taeyong’s hands grow cold, his heartbeat picks up speed, and he loses his breath at once. You’ve read the entries I wrote to you?
Are you mad that I did? Then, I’m sorry, comes the reply, so hasty that the strokes of the letters appear shambolic and messy, no longer written with gentle fingers.
No, I didn’t mean it that way. I was just shocked you actually took time to read them.
Your name is just as beautiful as you are, Lee Taeyong.
Taeyong is… speechless, to say the least. Reading the last message is like an equivalent of doing ten cartwheels in a span of five seconds and dosing a hefty amount of caffeine afterwards while your body is still fueled by the adrenaline rush. His soulmate is doing too much and for what?
He channels the sudden burst of emotions threatening to take over him by sliding out of his chair and transferring to his bed. There, he lies on his stomach and tries to write the most cursory of answers: Thank you.
Can I start then?
The floor is yours!
My grandma almost named me Yuno. Sometimes, she still calls me that. Only her, though. But I want you to call me that, too.
Taeyong chews on his lower lip, feeling a delicate flutter within his ribcage, like butterfly wings. He writes, Okay… Yuno :)
Oh, so we’re doing that, okay. Taeyong can almost hear him laugh — can almost imagine the smugness written across his soulmate’s face. What does he sound like? What does he look like? He must be lovely, just like his words. Taeyong catches himself right before he melts from sappiness so he shakes his head to chase the thoughts away, laughs in the silence of his room. Another thing. Is this going to be like an everyday thing between us? I’d like that.
I would like that, as well.
\(^o^)/
Taeyong can only shake his head at the response he gets, laughing still. He’s already looking forward to the days he’ll get to know this mysterious slash bizarre slash his soulmate guy whose almost-name is apparently Yuno.
Taeyong ended up joining the photography club of their school, courtesy of Doyoung, whom he met during the orientation week. Doyoung is this whirlpool of ferocious energy which just draws you into him in a very pleasant way, in no time Taeyong has snagged himself a friend. He’s exuberant and highly dependable and Taeyong is already so comfortable with him; he’s the berth to his ship, as he likes to think.
They just finished a session of introductory club activities wherein they shared their favorite photos in their phones as a way to warm up to everybody. Taeyong had pulled up a picture of blossoming calla lilies which he took while he was in the garden — one of the home’s features which he’s truly thankful for. He loves all sorts of flowers, loves growing them in the backyard, but the small lot in their old home didn’t allow him much. He can’t wait to spend his summer days in the garden with the sun on his face and the smell of the sweet fragrance from the blossoms tickling his nose. An ice pop would be nice too. It seems like a perfect plan.
Amidst the sea of students going about, him and Doyoung hustle their way to the music room where Yuta, Doyoung’s boyfriend and soulmate, is a member of the school band. Doyoung says they hang out in there frequently which means he does too.
“Oh! There he is!” Doyoung exclaims once they reach the door, waving his hand cheerfully. Taeyong takes a peek at the window as well and he sees Yuta inside waving at them with the same enthusiasm.
Doyoung promptly opens the door and soon, Taeyong takes his first step into the music room. The atmosphere immediately takes a sharp shift once the chaos coming from the hallways is now separated by the soundproof walls lining the room. The color is in contrast with the rest of the school Taeyong has seen so far, with darker shades of the spectrum curtaining the four walls of the room and polished hardwood under his shoes.
In the center, a grand is sitting intimidatingly, its glossy surface so sharp and incredibly inky, as if it hasn’t ever been touched. There are seats on one side of the room and the rest of the corners hog various instruments. Wires and cords are scattered disorderly on the floor that he’s afraid he’d step on them if he’s not careful enough.
Taeyong is introduced to a few people occupying the room. There’s Taeil who apparently can play every single instrument in the room, there’s Jungwoo, manning the drums in the corner, who just shoots him a brazen salute and a quick ‘ey yo!’, there’s Mark, whose eyes seem to smile with the rest of his face, then there’s Donghyuck, a mischievous sophomore. And then there’s Jaehyun, sitting on one of the chairs, leisurely flipping a pair of drumsticks in his hands.
At first, Taeyong is surprised to see him here of all places after their last — or rather, first — encounter. But then he thinks about the guitar strapped to Jaehyun’s shoulder that day and concludes it only makes sense. He thinks he’s imagined the way his eyes slightly widened for a split second when their gazes met.
He shakes his head and decides to find a comfortable spot where he can be. He deems the large table in the back of the room the one so he carefully mounts himself there and picks up the guitar previously placed on the table. He lets his legs dangle a little while he begins to examine the guitar he has managed to snatch.
“Perfect,” he mumbles softly to the inanimate object. “You’ll keep me in company, right?”
He starts strumming on the strings gently, his other hand pressing on wherever his fingers land on the fret board, not really caring if he’s doing it right. He’s certainly not, but as long as it sounds good to his ears, he continues doing so. He watches Doyoung and Yuta both laugh about a joke the other told with a fond smile on his face.
When he learned that his friend had already found his soulmate, he couldn’t be happier for him. Finding one’s soulmate is not something everyone can experience in their lifetime, some find each other late, and some don’t at all. Still, people are capable of finding true love and building a family even. The love his parents shared was a sweet testament to that. His parents weren’t soulmates but they were Taeyong’s favorite love story.
The universe has been so generous to him for bestowing upon him his own soulmate, for hearing his prayers, for letting their paths cross, and for letting him experience the magic of connecting with a soulmate. He can see it in both Doyoung and Yuta’s eyes — they complete each other; together they’re a whole, two halves of one. He wonders if Yuno would like to hear about these tales he so badly wants to share.
At the mention of the name alone, warmth rushes from his core, embracing his chest from within. A smile makes its way to his lips.
“You’re pressing it wrong.”
“Huh?”
Taeyong’s attention snaps back to reality, to where Jaehyun is now sitting on the table as well. He notes the conscious distance between them.
“Your fingers… They’re in wrong positions.”
“Oh. It’s okay. I don’t know how to play, actually. I’m just kinda… doing it my own way.” The last of his words gets reduced into merely a whisper because the whole time he’s talking, Jaehyun’s gaze never leaves his face. And he’s frowning. It makes him squeamish. He’s not used to being looked at for more than necessary. It feels like Jaehyun is scrutinizing him, like he’s being judged without doing anything. Geez, has he not heard of social cues?
Jaehyun hums before looking elsewhere, fingers coming to clasp between the space in his parted legs. His posture is poor but he doesn’t look like he’s tired, unlike before, but more like he’s relaxed. His shoulders are no longer tensed. For some reason, despite the frown still marring his face, there’s this lighter air around him that isn’t there before.
“What do you play, Jaehyun?”
“That, actually.”
“Oh! Sorry.” He stops strumming right away, embarrassed, and holds out the guitar meekly to the other so that he can take it back. Is this why Jaehyun came up to him? Not for small talk but to take it back?
His assumptions are wrong, though. Instead of that, Jaehyun wordlessly raises a hand to push it back slightly to him, a gesture that he doesn’t want it. But Taeyong’s attention is quickly caught by the scrapes on Jaehyun’s knuckles. They don’t look fresh anymore, some ends began to form scabs, but they still look reddish and badly bruised. They look painful. A gasp involuntarily leaves his mouth, catching Jaehyun by surprise when he realizes what Taeyong is looking at. He quickly retracts his hand but it’s a little too late for that.
“What happened to your hand?” Taeyong asks, concern lacing his voice.
Jaehyun silently hisses and Taeyong can practically feel the sudden spike to his mood. “It doesn’t matter. And you’re overreacting. They’re just wounds.”
Taeyong eyes him without attempting to conceal his disbelief before he clicks his tongue resolutely. “You don’t go around school sporting wounds and expect people to not be concerned. It’s not normal.”
He sets Jaehyun’s guitar aside before quickly sliding a hand in his front pocket to retrieve some band aids he always keeps with him wherever he goes. It’s a habit he has always observed, especially when he can be clumsy at times himself. For a moment, he hesitates because of the childish doodles printed on them but he shakes his head, thinking it doesn’t matter. He takes Jaehyun’s injured hand in his and smoothly plasters them to his knuckles, careful and mindful of his actions.
“There. Good as new.” He smiles back at the cute smiley doodles on the patches.
When he looks back up at the other, Jaehyun is eyeing his plaster-infested hand rather distastefully. And is that his eye twitching?
“Oh my god! I didn’t ask for your permission and even touched you. I’m sorry!” Taeyong says when he’s hit with the realization too late, feeling heat creep up from his neck to his cheeks. He feels stupid for being so impulsive.
Jaehyun merely lifts an eyebrow, the corner of his lips turned up to a smirk. A lone dimple pops out from the small gesture. “Do you always apologize to everything?”
Taeyong is too stunned to speak, nonplussed. He’s never had problems predicting people’s actions before, or reading them for that matter, but Jaehyun is something else. He can’t seem to predict him or read what’s in his mind. And so far, he’s always done the opposite to what Taeyong has originally thought he would and that somehow keeps him on his toes.
The door wrenches open rather obnoxiously and there comes barreling in both Jungwoo and Taeil, who bought drinks and a couple boxes of pizza.
Jaehyun hops off the table. “Pizza?”
He looks down at his hands to hide his blush. “Sure…”
“Hey, Yongie.”
Taeyong looks up from his journal in time to see Johnny parading into the kitchen with wet hair, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and a towel perched on his nape loosely.
“Hey, John. Did you just arrive?”
Johnny snatches a few pieces of cookies in the bowl and eats them all in one go before helping himself with some water. He shrugs nonchalantly. “About thirty minutes ago. I hung for a bit with the guys after the meeting. Went straight to shower.”
Taeyong’s ears perk at the mention. He pouts immediately. “I think your friend hates me.”
Johnny’s brows pinch together in confusion. He pulls up a chair and sits in front of the smaller with concern etching his otherwise relaxed face. “Which one of them?”
“Well, not exactly hate since he’s not being rude to me or anything bad like that. In fact, he’s quite nice to me. He tries to talk to me whenever we see each other,” he knows he doesn’t make sense but it’s not his fault it’s complicated. It’s been boggling his mind ever since he met the boy and he figured the only way to get his answers is by voicing this out to his step-sibling. Johnny’s brows furrow some more. “But more like he’s annoyed at me? And I don’t really know why. I’ve never done anything to upset him. Not that I know of.”
Johnny’s expression slowly veers into something that of enlightenment the moment he finished throwing his sentiments. The taller smiles at him, benign, and Taeyong can see the understanding in his eyes. It’s Taeyong’s turn to be confused.
“Are we talking about Jaehyun?”
Taeyong bites his lower lip. “Err, yes.”
“Well, that’s Jaehyun for you.” Johnny shrugs once again.
“What do you mean?”
“Hmm. First of all, I apologize if he’s making you feel like that. I know him and I’m certain it’s not his intentions. Like you said, he tries to talk to you, right? That in itself shows that he doesn’t hate you or annoyed at you.” He pauses to laugh. “He just doesn’t warm up to people fast. He rarely does so, actually. And things at home aren’t really the best for him so, Yong, I hope you don’t take his tendencies the wrong way.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He gives him a grateful smile. “You must care about him so much.”
“Too much.” Johnny scrunches up his nose in faux disgust before downing the rest of his drink. A suggestive smile paints across his face. “So why are we talking about Jaehyun, again?”
He gets a hard glare and silence as a response.
“What? I was just asking.” His innocent expression is too comical for it to be genuine. “Imagine the shock I felt that day when he came to me with those cutesy band aids on his hand looking like a dejected, wet cat? It was so out of character!”
“I was just trying to help your friend!” Taeyong says indignantly.
Johnny guffaws while he stands up to put his glass in the sink. “Okay, whatever you say.”
Another glare.
“Why are you so cute, though?” Johnny comes up right to his face and promptly pinches his cheeks, laughing hard at Taeyong’s reaction. Taeyong tries to break away but obviously fails so he settles on flailing his arms aggressively.
“Ugh! Let me go!” He grumbles, his speech slurred.
“Goodnight, Yongie!”
“Ugh! Goodnight!” He replies petulantly, watching the taller walk out of the room with a flourish. His cheeks are burning.
Taeyong sighs, grateful for the silence once again. Johnny can be a lot sometimes. He’s not used to having another person his age at home — of all this youthful energy, witty remarks, and chaotic interactions. For most of his life, it was just him and his dad. But he’s learned to love these little changes bit by bit since coming into this household. There is not a single thing to not like about Johnny, his stepmom, or his new living conditions. Taeyong is contented and happy as long as his father is.
He looks down on his journal, realizes he has left Yuno on read.
Are you a cat or a dog person? It says.
Taeyong can’t help but giggle at the question. Sorry for leaving you on read. Got caught up with a bit of a fuss a.k.a Johnny.
As usual, the reply comes swiftly. It’s alright, angel.
If Taeyong’s being honest, the nickname still sends his mind into haywire. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. Feeling giddy all over, he swipes a wisp of hair and tucks it behind his ear.
I’m definitely a dog person. I grew up with one. She passed away when I was in middle school. My little precious stone, I miss her dearly every day.
Ruby…
He silently sniffs, willing the tears that appeared so suddenly to back away. He doesn’t know if he wants to cry because he misses his dog or because of Yuno’s sincerity to know everything he’s ever written and have the heart of effort to remember every little detail.
Are you crying? Don’t cry, please. Want to know about mine?
I’m not crying. Haha. Yes :)
You’ll probably hate me for this but I’m team cats all the way. I think they’re really cute and small and very flexible. You know that thing they do when they slip out of your grasp like they’re made up of slime? Lol.
Taeyong chuckles and he imagines Yuno with a cat. That is probably the longest he has ever written. He must like cats that much. An adoring smile breaks into his face at the thought. Understandable, he writes back.
Cats are very hygienic creatures too. They take care of themselves well. Whereas dogs can be a pain in the butt :D
Taeyong has to cover his mouth so his laugh won’t spill too much. The mansion is undoubtedly huge and his parents must be asleep upstairs, still he doesn’t want to risk creating too much noise. He suddenly remembers fond memories of him cleaning after Ruby’s mess countless of times.
Which reminds me of a very controversial debate. Do you think we have one butt or two butts?
Hey! I was actually thinking the same. A butt is definitely two body parts. No brainer!
Taeyong narrows his eyes slightly. I’m judging you so hard right now.
I take that as we have differing opinions? But hear me out: a butt is our buttocks. It’s plural, therefore, two body parts. They come in pair. You don’t seat with only either of the pair.
??? A buttock is literally a butt cheek? Two butt cheeks, one butt :P
But then again, it’s my butt. If I say it’s two, who’s gonna stop me? :D
Taeyong’s body begins to shake with quiet laughter. That’s the only answer right there.
Taeyong puts his phone face-down back onto the table and turns his focus once again to his homework. He’s currently in the library, waiting for Johnny and the others so they can all go home together. Apparently, he’s having his friends over tonight so he decided to just finish his homework beforehand because having a bunch of guys altogether does not clearly mean peace and silence. Plus, Johnny had so nicely asked him to join them so he can ‘socialize’ and get more comfortable around his friends. Taeyong obviously didn’t have the heart to deny his step-brother. Johnny means well, he knows that, and he’s thankful that his friends aren’t hard to get along with, despite the differences in their social backgrounds.
“Hi.”
Taeyong nearly flinches on his seat hearing that deep voice. When he looks up, he comes face to face with the person he expects it to be. It’s Jaehyun. He’s frowning, as usual, but more like a juxtaposition of a frown and a deep grimace this time. He looks… awful. Tired. Exhausted. There are painfully noticeable and dark bags under his eyes.
Taeyong quickly gathers himself. “Hi, Jaehyun. Do you need help with something?”
Jaehyun nods, tight-lipped. “Can I sleep here?”
The question definitely catches him by surprise. He leans back a little to eye him some more. “Of course you can. There are still a lot of unoccupied seats here. I don’t own this spot, you know.”
Jaehyun’s frown deepens, which squeezes something inside Taeyong in turn, and he adjusts the strap of his backpack impatiently. He looks like he can pass out any moment. “No. I mean, beside you. You won’t mind, right?”
He doesn’t get a chance to scramble for a reply because Jaehyun is already crossing the table to get to his own side and quickly pulling up the chair beside him. He lets his backpack fall carelessly onto the floor and crashes all of his weight onto the chair which makes Taeyong flinch from the vigorous action.
“Sorry.” Jaehyun’s apology comes barely above a whisper but Taeyong hears him in the silence of the library. He attempts a smile next which comes off as a grimace before his head falls onto the table between his arms and then he’s asleep. Out like a light.
Taeyong takes a few minutes to process what just happened. He recalls what Johnny has said. He feels bad for the situation Jaehyun is trapped in. It’s clearly taking a toll on his health. Despite Jaehyun’s impulsive actions just now, Taeyong doesn’t feel uncomfortable or upset. He understands the boy.
After he’s finished with the assignment, he begins packing his stuff into the backpack, careful not to make big movements and wake Jaehyun up.
He risks a glance at the boy and almost forgets to breathe at the sight of a sleeping Jaehyun. He looks way better when he’s not frowning. He looks pretty like this — relaxed, peaceful, and not hurting. Why must he be constantly hurting?
Against Taeyong’s better judgment, he raises a hand and carefully brings it to Jaehyun’s temple, hooking a pliant wisp of hair in his finger to tuck it behind his ear. The earring is back but this time it’s silver, matching the dull paleness of his skin. He lets the same finger connect with the cold metal for a second, afraid he’d stir him. Will he ever know its story?
His phone silently vibrates with another message. It’s from Johnny again.
‘Hey, sorry for making you wait longer. We’re supposed to get going but we can’t find Jaehyun. We’re looking for him now.’
Taeyong’s hands shake a little when he types in his reply: ‘He’s with me. We’re in the library.’
‘? Alright, I’ll come get you.’
They’re looking for him but he’s here, beside Taeyong. Sleeping, on top of that.
Taeyong thinks his brain will shut off any minute from overload.
Needless to say, Johnny is just as confused as Taeyong when he came to the library. He shot Taeyong a wordless question but he could only give him a helpless look in return. On the drive home, Jaehyun refused to speak about it. Taeyong had a hunch that the confusion wasn’t about Jaehyun’s condition but more to the fact that he came to Taeyong of all people, considering how well they handled the situation and didn’t force their friend to explain.
Taeyong silently observed him after that. He was relieved Jaehyun mingled and even laughed occasionally, although he appeared significantly listless than the rest of them. He watched Jaehyun get drunk, watched him stare into space, get lost in his own thoughts, frown at absolutely nothing.
Empty bottles scatter the table in front of Taeyong as the aftermath.
It’s silent now — probably an hour into midnight. Doyoung and Yuta are cuddled on the couch, asleep, and Jungwoo is passed out somewhere on the floor. Johnny and the rest of the guys are probably on the cabana as Taeyong can still hear the roaring of laughter. He’s sitting in front of the table enjoying his drink in peace, cross-legged, his butt feeling colder and colder in each passing minute. He’s not drunk but his vision isn’t sharp either. The room is beginning to spin slightly so he decides to stop then.
He needs to clean up this mess. But before that, he needs to wash his face quickly. With the mission to refresh himself, he stands up unsteadily at first and goes straight to the bathroom.
He promptly stops in his tracks, hand still on the doorknob, when he sees Jaehyun sitting on the floor with his head leaning against the corner of the tub. He’s staring off into the distance again. Something squeezes inside him. Jaehyun looks so sad and broken.
“I’m sorry…” He whispers softly, ready to close the door again.
“It’s fine.” Jaehyun is looking at him now.
Taeyong sighs empathetically and steps into the room, closing the door behind him and locking it. He sits down beside the boy. “Jaehyun, I don’t know if you consider me as your friend or if you’re even comfortable with me, but I’m ready to listen.”
“Are we not?”
“Huh?”
“Friends, I mean.”
“Truthfully, in my mind, you’re my friend for a while now. I just didn’t know your opinion on that until now.”
Jaehyun lets out a weak chuckle, lets the back of his head meet with the cold wall behind soundlessly. Taeyong draws his knees up to his chest, hugging them and letting his arms cradle the side of his face. He finds himself following every move Jaehyun makes with his gaze. He is strangely magnetic.
“Can I ask you a question?” Jaehyun breaks off the silence once again.
“Okay.”
“Do you believe in love?”
What a peculiar question. “Of course I do.”
“Then what about soulmates?”
What an even more peculiar question. Taeyong’s breath gets ensnared in his throat and his heart suddenly begs to come out of its cage. “… Yes, I believe in them.”
“I do, too.” Jaehyun’s gaze turns to him and something about it seizes him as intensely as an electrically charged current would. His eyes hold something meaningful to them but it remains a riddle for him. Taeyong is lost. “But I can’t help but wonder why the universe even bothers with them if they’re not meant to last.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Jaehyun looks away. “My parents are soulmates but they’re not in love with each other. But do you know what’s funny?” he lets out a humorless scoff. “I’m so naïve to think that these things always coexist. I never even considered an equation where one of them isn’t present. Doesn’t that defeat its purpose? Why are you soulmates when you’re not even capable of getting along? Why is fate so cruel? Bringing two people together as destined mates and yet love can nowhere be found.”
A lone tear escapes Jaehyun’s eye, travelling down across flushed cheek. A bitter smile paints his lips, so unsure like a picture out of focus. Why is he smiling? You don’t have to smile, Jaehyun. You don’t have to pretend. It’s not your fault. Taeyong hugs his knees some more to make himself smaller. He’s visibly shaken up.
Suddenly, the world is so unforgiving. He starts to question about his own beliefs, doubts and uncertainties creeping up on him like an ominous vine ready to capture him and crush everything he has believed in before. Yuno flashes in his mind. What if they end up like that? What if the universe is wrong after all?
Right now, he’s not sure of his actions but he’s sure of wanting to carry some of Jaehyun’s burdens in that moment. So he reaches up and takes Jaehyun’s hand in his, intertwining them in a firm grip, and lets them rest on his thigh. There’s that again — the electric current pulsing through his veins — the second their hands connected. He wonders if Jaehyun can feel it too. He doesn’t want to know.
“My dad always does this to me whenever he soothes me. He squeezes my hand three times. It means ‘I love you’.” He explains, demonstrating it and adding another squeeze at the end.
“Then what does this mean?”
Taeyong smiles. “I’m here for you.”
Jaehyun doesn’t respond, just lets his head fall into Taeyong’s shoulder. The gesture takes him by surprise, being in such another level of close proximity with this boy, but lets him be, nonetheless.
“Can we stay like this for a while?” His voice sounds weary and it comes off more like a plea.
“Okay.”
The weight of Jaehyun’s head gradually becomes heavy and Taeyong can hear his breathing slowly even out in the stillness of the bathroom: telltale signs that he has fallen asleep. They stay like that for God knows how long. It could’ve been merely minutes or an hour or more than that even, but Taeyong does not dare move an inch.
Finally, he cranes his neck carefully, hesitatingly, and catches sight of Jaehyun’s silver earring reflecting light off of the fluorescent bulb. A fiery glint. Taeyong inhales a shaky breath. Jaehyun has been doing that to him ever since the first time he saw him — stealing his breath. He doesn’t know what’s up with this boy that just makes him lose his defenses so easily and naturally. Why he has this effect on him.
“Who are you… Jaehyun?”