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The first time Jungwon sees him, it is just another Monday.
Every day, Jungwon gets on the Seoul National University station with the voice at the back of his head saying, “You could’ve gone here if you weren’t so stubborn, you idiot.” Nevertheless, he has mastered the art of pushing that voice farther to the back, right by the shadows near the exit.
One thing you need to know about this boy is that he is happy with the university he has chosen—Konkuk University—because he is equally happy with his major—Environmental Health Science. Needless to say, he’s pretty proud of the choices he has made, even if his father thought otherwise before. You see, Jungwon’s old man had always dreamed of going to Seoul National University, but they weren’t able to afford it. Jungwon’s older sister, Junghae, was not able to qualify for SNU, but she merely brushed it off, saying that it must’ve been not meant to be. Jungwon, however, did get qualified—he was their high school’s top scorer during their CSATs after all. This, of course, made his entire hometown proud, and (if he recalls correctly) most of them expected him to choose SNU because it’s closer to home and… well, it’s fucking Seoul National University. Who wouldn’t want that?
Turns out, Jungwon had always been eyeing Konkuk, and there he went. At first, it devastated his father; his mother has always been supportive of his decisions, reasoning that it’s still a very prestigious university. Jungwon even got a scholarship there, for Christ’s sake! His noona just offered a “you’ll be fine” smile, and life went on. Eventually, his father had a change of heart and happily went with him to Konkuk on his first day.
Long story short, he’s happy to be here.
Except today. Today, he is frustrated.
Every day, Jungwon gets on the Seoul National University station, and it is only today that he feels it.
A phantom tug.
The tug.
He never thought he’d get to experience this mystical tug ever, but now that he feels his heart almost getting pulled from his chest and his soul attracted to somewhere, someone, like some magnet, his mind comes up with the conclusion that it must be true, real, and that it must be really in his family’s genes.
Another thing you need to know about this boy and his family is that they are descendants of a clan who has always, always experienced the phenomenon of the red string of fate. From his great-great-great grandmother meeting his great-great-great grandfather and hiding him from palace officials at that time to his own parents meeting everywhere by coincidence—or is it?—until they decided to just meet on their own terms, they all have mentioned this phantom pull they feel whenever the other is around. Only a small portion of the population experiences it in their lifetime, and only an even smaller portion experience it mutually—meaning both parties experience the tug.
Legend says that the “red string of fate” is usually tied around the person’s pinky fingers, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that’s where they feel the said pull; most times, it comes off as an urge to be somewhere else or as a passing thought (or image) of a stranger like how one would get dreams of people they have never met, except this time they’re awake.
Of course, as a student in the sciences, Jungwon doubted it and passed it off as some legend or myth.
But right now? Jungwon is eating his words as his eyes wander around the train cabin, looking for someone that would look like “the one.” The cabin isn’t that packed compared to how rush hours are, but there is a good amount of people standing up because all the seats are occupied.
One by one, Jungwon allows his eyes to graze on each person from the farthest corners of the cabin towards his direction. He sees old women with little shopping carts, old men in suits conversing hushedly, businessmen who would not stop looking at their watches, businesswomen who wouldn’t look up from their phones, high school students in their uniforms who—by the looks of it—are cutting classes, and more.
One by one, he looks at them briefly, waiting for some spark to ignite even if they don’t meet his eyes.
One by one, he hopes the next person he looks at would be it—probably to give himself a peace of mind.
Then,
Oh.
He makes eye contact with a pink-haired boy. This boy, Jungwon takes note, does not only look like he caught Jungwon looking at him, but he looks like he’s genuinely shocked that Jungwon is looking at him.
For some reason, it seems to Jungwon that this boy was already looking at him even before he saw him.
Suddenly, the doors of the train close. They begin moving, and Jungwon is still looking at this pink-haired stranger looking at him.
There is a palpable suspense in the air, and Jungwon is convinced that it’s because of that invisible string of fate that has made its presence known earlier. He takes notice of the writings on the pink-haired stranger’s sweater: Hanyang University. Aside from that, he also sees the little Totoro plushie keychain attached to the boy’s backpack. Jungwon feels his heart skip a beat at the sight of this.
Raising his eyes back to meet the pink-haired stranger, Jungwon finds that he is still looking back at him—probably examining him the same way as he did.
The train shakes. The sunlight shines through the wide windows, giving the cabin a soft morning glow. If Jungwon is being brutally honest, he would’ve said that it almost feels like a divine intervention of some sort.
It seems to him the universe has placed its pieces neatly on the board as destiny watches on with a pleased smile. “The stars aligned,” is what his noona would’ve said if he is ever to share this experience with her later on.
Jungwon continues to look. The pink-haired stranger continues to look.
The train shakes. They pass through a tunnel. The air of the cabin shifts instantly.
The stranger looks away, and so does Jungwon.
The second time Jungwon sees him, it is premeditated.
Almost.
It is Wednesday of the same week. His schedule for today is the same schedule that he has for Mondays. On his way to the station, Jungwon wonders if he will ever get to see the boy again—to feel that mystical magnetic pull that his soul experienced two days ago. You see, he wished that he could just forget about it, but he couldn’t; his mind wouldn’t let him.
Since his stop came before the pink-haired stranger’s (his assumptions might be correct, that he goes to Hanyang), it almost felt like ripping off a massive band-aid when he got off the train. It didn’t feel painful, but there was an instant ache that brought itself from the shadows of his chest. It continuously sneaked up on him every step he took away from the unmoving train, up towards the stairs, and out of the train station. The entire day he spent on campus, Jungwon felt like he was hungry for something that he couldn’t pinpoint (which was an absolute lie because he was well aware of what his soul is yearning for). He tried so hard to put his mind on different things, tried so hard to be productive, and tried so hard to tune out that sing-songy voice calling out to him—telling him to look for that pink-haired stranger.
Hell, Jungwon didn’t even know his name, but he’s already missing him like how lovers would miss each other after a second of being away from one another.
Yesterday—Tuesday—Jungwon came to the station late in the afternoon since he had night classes. Like some lovesick fool, he unconsciously looked around the mass of people, hoping and praying to catch even the slightest glimpse of the pink-haired stranger. Unfortunately, nothing happened; no pull nor sighting of said boy.
Today, however, he made sure to catch the same train at the same exact time he did last Monday. Jungwon thought to himself while having breakfast that it would be best if he came there a little earlier than usual for some reason, so he did.
Looking at his watch, he reads “7:28 A.M.” His first class starts at 8:30 A.M. His commute to the university takes less than 15 minutes. The moment he arrives at school, he would have to waste another 45 minutes.
Jungwon thinks that whatever he is doing is silly, but he shoves that thought at the back of his mind as he allows his eyes to linger and scan the platform—in search of the pink-haired stranger. He does this for around 2 minutes before accepting defeat. Consequently, he sighs and pulls out his phone.
Jungwon scrolls through his playlists and decides that today feels like a “The 1975” day, so he plays “About You” through his headphones. The first notes play, lulling him into some sort of trance. He pockets his phone and looks back up. There are more people on the platform now as the train is about to arrive. He takes a deep breath in and begins to take a few steps closer to the mass of people waiting to board.
The train arrives. It begins to slow down.
Suddenly, a pull.
He’s here.
Jungwon snaps his head around. To his left, nothing. To his right, nothing. He turns his entire body around and comes face to face with the subject of his search.
Less than a foot away from him stands the pink-haired boy — cheeks tinted pink and forehead a little wet. The boy’s nose shimmers a little under the artificial light of the subway as he visibly inhales. He looks out of breath, and so does Jungwon.
The train stops. The doors open. The flood of people starts calmly rushing in the train, and yet both of them still stand there.
For some reason, Jungwon remembers the stories his halmeoni told him whenever he stays over at his grandparents’ house. He thinks back to him being told about sightings of angels; how humans do not have the capacity to fully grasp the event of holy beings revealing themselves, thus them being completely stunned. This concept then translated into literature, as explained his noona one summer day when he was reading Shakespeare for class, clearly evident in most stories about love and surrender. He remembers being told about how poets like to overemphasize the idea of love warping a person’s perception of space and time.
Jungwon wonders if this is what poets meant when time stands completely still at the sight of something immaculate. As Matt Healy’s voice sings “hold on and hope that we'll find our way back in the end” through his headphones, Jungwon prays to whatever divine entity out there that this wouldn’t be the last time they’d come close to each other.
Then, the moment ends.
More people walk past them, shaking Jungwon out of this revelation. The pink-haired boy seems to be shaken out of his as well, and they simultaneously enter the same train cabin. Unsurprisingly, it feels packed, with Jungwon’s shoulders brushing both of those who stand beside him. He raises his head to look for the boy and sees him an arm’s length away from him. Because of this pink-haired boy’s smaller frame, he seems to be sandwiched between two big businessmen and looks helpless but settled.
It is at the sight of this that Jungwon gets the urge to shuffle his way through and get the boy out of there, but unfortunately, he again fights it. He does not want to come off as someone who is invasive, so he disregards this—even if the silly invisible string that ties them together is obviously pulling at his pinky towards the other.
The doors of the cabin close. The train rumbles, shakes, and begins moving. Despite how there are more people on the train now compared to the usual, there is still a lightness in the atmosphere. If someone is to ask Jungwon why this is so, he’d probably shrug his shoulders and continue to gaze at the pink-haired boy who stands closer than he ever did.
Right now, it seems to him that his ancestors are all looking down on him, watching the two boys attempt to ignore the magnetic pull in-between them. It’s almost laughable—Jungwon knows—and yet he continues to fight the urge to step closer. For what it’s worth, it comes off to Jungwon as stepping into the pink-haired boy’s world, and he does not think he has the right to do that just yet.
Yet.
So, he just stands there and stares. He watches the boy shuffle on his legs as he looks down on his feet, seemingly busying himself. Out of nowhere, Jungwon’s focus shifts from the boy to the song that is still playing on his headphones. The bridge part of the song begins, and Jungwon’s heart starts rumbling in his rib cage—sneakily climbing upwards via his ribs, pulling every artery and vein with it and making Jungwon’s entire system shake.
As Carly Holt’s voice echoes, “it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender,” Jungwon ponders on how this—whatever is happening between him and the pink-haired boy—will ever progress if all he does is look, observe, watch and stare in admiration. He thinks about whether he will ever get past this stage of wonderment or not; after all, this pink-haired boy is just a boy, not some deity or supernatural being.
Jungwon continues to look, and the pink-haired boy suddenly raises his head in his direction.
Their eyes meet, and there is a sudden ambrosia-like fragrance wafting through the cabin. It makes Jungwon feel a little dizzy, a little divine. It makes him feel like he’s floating up above the cosmos, dancing with the stars and planets while admiring the sun from afar.
Jungwon continues to look. The pink-haired boy continues to look.
The train shakes. They pass through a tunnel. The sunlight from the windows dims, but the warmth that embraces Jungwon remains.
The pink-haired boy blinks before looking away, but Jungwon continues to look.
The third time Jungwon sees him, it is sincerely on purpose.
Intentional. Deliberate. Conscious.
It is Friday of the same week. If Jungwon is completely being honest, he has no classes today. He usually sleeps in and wakes up around nine in the morning to help his mother around the house. This time, however, he got up the same time he gets up on Mondays and Wednesdays. He was hesitant yesterday, but his noona said something that helped him make up his mind. Something about “wasting time while waiting when you could’ve done something already.” He sometimes wonders if his noona could read his mind.
Today, Jungwon makes sure to catch the same train at the same exact time he did last Monday and Wednesday. Standing by the platform once again, he watches the people that pass by him. Jungwon, at this point, is not making it subtle that he is looking for something, someone. He feels as if his neck might come off at how stretched it is, but he doesn’t mind. He woke up early and came here with a purpose, and he will not let the chance of fulfilling that purpose pass.
The train arrives. People begin walking towards the platform.
It slows down to a stop. People begin entering the cabins. Jungwon continues to stand tall, eyes scanning through the crowd in search of pink. There’s a hushed buzz around him, and he can feel its vibrations on his skin.
His eyes continue to search and search and search, and yet there’s nothing.
Jungwon feels silly—what if the pink-haired boy has no classes today, like he does?
At this, Jungwon watches the train doors come to a close. It leaves the station, and it has Jungwon feeling an ache in his chest.
Jungwon feels silly, so he smiles pitifully to himself. He puts his hands in the pocket of his blue hoodie and turns to walk to the staircase leading to the exit.
Then, a pull.
A very strong one, in fact. Stronger than he ever felt. Almost like it wasn’t just his pinky being pulled, but his entire body.
Scratch that, it feels more like a push.
He’s here.
As Jungwon stands at the bottom of the staircase, he looks up and sees him on the top.
The pink-haired boy—no longer a stranger, in Jungwon’s opinion—stands breathless and glowing. Their eyes instantly take in the state of the other, and Jungwon can’t help but feel like this boy is there for the same reason as he is. His heart leaps at this thought.
After a few seconds of just looking at each other, Jungwon begins to climb. The pink-haired boy just stands there, staring closely at him. Each step he takes, Jungwon feels like everything happened the way it did for this reason. From how he chose to wake up early today to how he decided to not dorm on campus and take the train every day, this moment feels like a consequence of the accumulation of all his choices—the good ones and the not-so-wise ones.
Jungwon wonders if his family would believe him if he told them how he met his soulmate on his way to the university that his family did not expect him to attend. For some reason, he feels like his mother would even find it amusing how his invisible string of fate is tied to someone from a rival school, and even more amusing how their meeting is similar to his parents’.
At this thought, Jungwon thinks about his next moves. He now accepts that if there would be any progress, he would have to do something. Like how he is taking each step towards the pink-haired boy (who remains unmoving at the top of the staircase), Jungwon now understands that everything will only work if he makes everything a conscious choice. The tug that they both feel every time they are near each other is only the beginning, and it is completely up to them to decide what they will do next.
So, with all the courage that he had mustered up and reserved from lying awake late last night, Jungwon takes the last few steps and stands a foot away from the pink-haired boy. They watch each other’s eyes, no words spoken, as the people around them go on about their days.
“Hi.”
“Hello.”
Despite the muted noise, it almost feels like they are the only two people in the train station.
“Do you have somewhere to be right now?”
“No. You?”
“No.”
The pink-haired boy smiles and begins walking to the exit. Jungwon follows beside him, his eyes glancing every now and then at the way this boy’s hair is falling gracefully on his forehead.
“Do you want to have breakfast with me?”
“Gladly.”
There is an announcement that the next train has arrived and people begin rushing towards the direction of the platform. It is almost 7:30 A.M. on a Friday.
The two of them continue to walk towards and out the exit. Jungwon continues to look at the boy walking beside him. The pink-haired boy also glances every now and then.
The morning sun outside caresses their skins, its tepidity blanketing them both. They walk at a slow and matching pace, each of their short strides grazing the pavement delicately as if they are thanking the earth that has watched them take their steps towards each other. Jungwon’s hand itches to hold the other, but he decides not to—not yet. In due time.
Instead, he turns his entire body towards the pink-haired boy while walking sideways. The pink-haired boy smiles up at him, and Jungwon feels his heart expand.
“I’m Jungwon.”
“Sunoo.”
Sunoo continues to look at him at that moment, and Jungwon holds his gaze.
It almost feels like they could do this forever—and Jungwon can already see them doing just that.