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Dear Soulmate,
It feels strange to write that word. Soulmate. It is what you are though. You are my soulmate. I woke up this morning to find this paper and envelope waiting for me on my pillow and knew that I we are soulmates. I have yet to tell my mother and father about it. I have yet to tell anyone. If I am to be truthful, which I will always be with you because you are my soulmate, I am writing this letter in bed mere minutes after waking and seeing that fate as smiled upon me and given me a soulmate. I spilled ink on my quilt. I spilled ink on my quilt. I just promised to always be truthful with you, so that means I must omit nothing. Even if it is embarrassing like spilling ink on my favorite quilt because I was so excited to write to you that I pulled the stopper from the bottle with a bit too much force. I will try and remove the stain after I send off this letter, but I do not have very high hopes for it. That is alright, though, because I am sure you will understand why I still use a stained quilt when we finally meet. That is what soulmates do, I think, understand each other. I will understand you, soulmate, I promise.
I forgot what I was going to write. I do that sometimes, often. I have too many thoughts all at once that it is hard to remember everything, or I will finally be concentrating and suddenly I will have such a wonderful idea that I cannot help but be distracted by it. I think you will be my most common distraction now. But I am happy for that! I will take a thousand scoldings if it means thinking of you!
I am already wondering about you. What your name is, what you look like, the sound of your voice and if you like to get into mischief the way I do. I think you will be beautiful, soulmate, boy or girl or somewhere in between like the butcher’s child. They are so kind, soulmate, my best friend. I have tried to write down their name, but it appears that I am not allowed to write anything that could possibly identify me. So, while I know that you will not be able to answer most of my questions about you, please remember that I will be constantly wondering about you.
I know you are beautiful, just as I know that you are perfect, because so long as you are my soulmate, you will always be the most beautiful person in all the world to me.
The magic that brought this letter to me will not let me say much about myself, but I can say this: I have a mother, father, and an older sister. I am fifteen autumns old. I know you must have turned fifteen today, in midwinter, as that is when my mother and father said the first letter comes, on the youngest’s fifteenth birthday. Can you believe that we have birthdays now? Only the rich and those with soulmates are ever so lucky as to have a record of the actual day of their birth. Happy Birthday! I will get you a gift and save it for when we meet!
I love music, writing it, playing it, listening to it. I like to sing, but I do not think I am very talented. I love animals. When I was younger, I was forever being scolded for bringing in sick and injured animals to care for. The scolding never stopped me, however, and now there is a family of crows on the outskirts of the village that recognizes me and brings me little treasures every so often. I cannot cook and burn every meal that I have ever attempted, but I am excellent at cleaning and will never make you wash a single dish if you can make food that we can both actually eat! I am very loud and very clumsy, but I mean well, I promise! If I am too loud or too wild for you, soulmate, then I will calm myself, I promise. I hope that I am not, though, because I think it would be very sad if my soulmate disliked me as I am. I promise to love you the way you are, so please try your utmost to do the same?
I have already promised you many things, haven’t I? I always keep my promises!
This letter has gotten a bit too sad for our very first letter. I think it is because I am rather nervous at the moment. Who would not be nervous to write to their soulmate for the first time? Maybe you will not be after you read this letter and see that I am not intimidating and already in love with you. I hope that is not too soon, soulmate, because it is how I feel and I promised to always be truthful with you so I will not lie about how I feel.
Well, I think this is all I can say for now. I wrote far too largely and now I have hardly any space left to write. Maybe fate will give me two pieces of paper next time so that I can say everything I wish to say to you. I am not sure if two pages will be enough, but it will be more than one, and so I will still be happy to have more space to speak to you! I hope this letter finds you well, soulmate. Please search for me, as I will do the same for you!
Sincerely,
Your soulmate
-
Dear Soulmate,
I can cook very well, and I do not mind loud, tall people. A soulmate is a soulmate because we can love and complement them exactly as they are. I will never ask you to change yourself, because if I did you would no longer be my soulmate. I promise to always be truthful as well. I do not make promises often, so know that I mean my words. I hope your birthday is everything you want it to be.
Lemon juice may help take the stain out of your quilt.
Love,
Your soulmate
-
Chanyeol stares down at the letter that had appeared on his pillow in the first light of the early morning of must be his sixteenth birthday, waking him with a soft rustling noise, and runs his fingers over the dried ink of each and every word. His soulmate wrote in deliberate lines, letters ballooned out from too much pressure on the quill, ruts in the paper from too much pressure. They must have taken their time, then, thought out exactly what they wanted to say before they put their quill to paper.
How different he and his soulmate are. He had scratched out his thoughts in one long stream that covered the entire page front and back; his soulmate’s letter does not take up even one-third of the front page.
A part of Chanyeol wishes he could take that extra space and continue his own letter on, hold tight to any chance to get to know the person on the other side of this strange, magical bond. That might be a bit overwhelming for his soulmate, though.
He wonders if they are already overwhelmed, if the reasoning behind this short, succinct letter is that they had thought to reply to every bit of his own and realized that they simply could not respond to every last one of Chanyeol’s tangled thoughts and became so overwhelmed that these simple five sentences were all they could manage. Anxiety begins to climb up through his ribs like vines on a trellis but falls away when he reads through the letter again. There is nothing flustered or overwhelmed or uncomfortable hidden between the lines.
A small smile tugs at his lips. How silly he was, thinking that he was too much. His soulmate has already promised to love him exactly as he is.
The parchment of the letter is soft beneath Chanyeol’s thumb as he touches the dried ink once more. Five sentences, he wrote an entire letter and his soulmate responded with five sentences. Yet, they are enough. He wants more, as any sane person would when receiving their first letter from their soulmate, but he does not feel bereft. Five sentences, but each one seems to take on a life of its own with each careful, deeply written word.
His soulmate cooks well, so Chanyeol will not have to worry about poisoning them both, their strengths covering Chanyeol’s weaknesses. His soulmate will take Chanyeol as he is, no alterations or substitutions or barbed insults about his inability to sit still or be quiet for more than a few minutes. His soulmate accepts him, soothing over the worst of his insecurities and promising to be his safe haven so long as Chanyeol does the same. His soulmate is thoughtful and considerate, offering solutions to problems of Chanyeol’s own making without a hint of judgement or derision.
Falling back against his pillows with a lovesick sigh, Chanyeol hugs the letter to his chest and smiles dreamily up at the ceiling. They have only exchanged two letters and are likely still years away from meeting, and yet his soulmate has left a bright spot of joy bouncing around inside his chest.
Eyes falling shut, he daydreams about them. A person of few words but not unapproachable. Someone knowledgeable and hardworking to be so good at laundering and cooking. Wonderful, lovely, kind, safe, comfortable, warm, home, his.
The letter is carefully refolded and slipped back into the envelope to keep is safe and whole, Chanyeol curls up beneath his blankets and falls back into his daydreams about the person he will love with his entire being, who will love him in return. As he slips into sleep once more in the slow, warm light of dawn, he sees a flash of wide, dark eyes in his mind’s eye and thinks of how lucky he must be to have the best soulmate in the entire world.
-
Dear Soulmate,
Happy birthday! I hope you are enjoying your day! I have two gifts ready for you for when we finally meet, and I will add on another for every birthday we spend apart. Do you or your family have any traditions for celebrating aging? In my family, my parents and sister come in and wake me up by pulling on my ears, one tug for every year I have been alive. They used to do it on the morning of the first frost, but now that your letters mark my true birthday they have decided to wait for those instead. I also love to swim in the creek at the end of summer to celebrate. I have no idea why I love it so much, but I do not feel properly celebrated unless I have been in the water.
We are both in our sixteenth years now! I was eagerly awaiting this day so that I could speak to you again. I cannot believe that already a year has passed since I sent my first letter. I miss you. Is that something I am allowed to say? I know it is strange to miss someone that I have never met, but I think about you so often and I miss you. It is alright if you do not feel the same way. I do hope you think of me, though, at least sometimes.
I think I am allowed to tell you more about myself now that a year has passed. I am a boy man. I think you are as well. As much as I like women, I like men all the more. That does not mean I will not find you attractive if you are not a man! I just think that fate would not pair us together if we were not wholly compatible. Those like me are rarely acknowledged in my village. We are not treated poorly, it is just somewhat of an open secret. I think it has to do with the elders. When they were young, the church was still standing and many, many things were considered taboo. Is it the same in yours? I hope not. I think I would like to live somewhere open and free. Anywhere would be home so long as it was with you, though.
Speaking of my village, I started my apprenticeship with the blacksmith last week. I strongly dislike it. The forge is hot, dirty, and dark, and I cannot stand it! I am always covered in sweat and my arms and back are so sore from all the work. Most evenings, I am so tired from work that I can hardly find the energy for my music. I mentioned my love for music in my first letter, correct?
Music is everything to me. I mean, you are obviously everything, but music is filling your space for now. I tried to convince my parents to allow me to continue my schooling in music or join one of the traveling troupes for a time to improve my skills, but they refused. Please do not look poorly on them for it! They would have let me if they could, but father was injured on the farm over the summer and is only now recovering. My wages from the blacksmith are all that we have to put food on the table, and all that we will have until he can work the farm once more. Until then, I will persevere and do what is right for my family.
What sort of apprenticeship will you join now that you have turned sixteen? Do you have any interest in any trades or professions or are you going to continue your schooling? I miss being in school. I drove my teacher mad because I could never stay still, but I loved learning. Do you feel the same way?
What do you do for fun, soulmate? I love music, obviously, but I also love foraging for flowers. I can name every flower in the forest and fields surrounding my village! Do you have a favorite flower? If you tell me, I promise to make you a bouquet of them after our first meeting, even if I have to travel great lengths to find them!
Our first meeting sounds like a dream to me. I cannot wait to finally see you and hear your voice and relive your most important moments, soulmate! I wonder what they will be, and I wonder what moments you will relive from my own life. I hope none of them are too embarrassing, like the All Hallow’s Eve when I was seven autumns and my sister and her friends terrified me so badly that I soiled my trousers.
I searched for you all year, all throughout the village and in every passing troupe or caravan. I knew that it was very unlikely to find you so soon, but I still hoped. I am saddened that we have still yet to meet, but I will never despair because I know we will find each other someday!
This is where I must end my letter, as I have run out of room again. Perhaps I should start practicing what I wish to say to you before I write on the letter itself so that I have enough space for everything, but I worry that I would become self-conscious while reading back what I wrote and hesitate to write it again. I wish you a very happy birthday once more, and I eagerly await your response, whether by letter or in person if we happen to be so lucky!
Sincerely,
Your Soulmate
-
Dear Soulmate,
Enjoy the seventeen tugs to your ears. I am also a man and I also prefer the company of other men. My home is accepting of all peoples, and I have never faced any prejudice for living as I am. You would not either. Do not worry about our compatibility, soulmate, there is nothing about us that it is not compatible.
The letter will not allow me to write about my livelihood. Rest your body often and know that I would happily take your place in the forges to ease your burden as physical labor is not a hardship to me and you would appreciate my lessons far more than I do. I enjoy playing and listening to music and do as much of both as I can, but I know very little about flowers. I appreciate the wildflowers I see, but only know the names of a seldom few. I will defer to your superior knowledge and trust that you will know me well enough to make me a beautiful bouquet should you see fit to do so.
Take care of yourself.
Love,
Your Soulmate
-
Back aching from a long day in the forges and a night of fitful sleep, Chanyeol lies curled up in bed with the letter that had floated in through his window at the first rays of dawn, freshly seventeen and so painfully in love with his soulmate that he feels sick to his stomach with emotion. That emotion sticks in his throat and burns his eyes as he reads over the letter again; he pulls his stained quilt up over his head to hide his tears from the rising sun.
From the very second his last letter was caught by an inexplicable wind and disappeared out through his bedroom window, he has waited anxiously for this moment, two full seasons passing so unbelievably slowly, days dragging on until he would finally receive his soulmate’s second letter. The thought of it was all he had to look forward to some days, and all he had to keep him going some nights.
His sixteenth year was especially trying. He wrote of it lightly in the letter he sent in the winter, partly because it really had not been that horrible yet and partly because he had not wanted to burden his soulmate so early into their relationship, but the weight of supporting his family has taken a heavy toll on him. He talks less, smiles without his usual light, spends his free time hiding in his bed and dreading the next time he will have to get up and return to work. His parents have noticed and asked him to talk to them about his troubles, but he does not know what to say.
There is nothing he can say, not without hurting them all. His father is mostly recovered from the grievous injury to his back, an accidental trampling by their mule while plowing the fields, and will be able to return to work for the next harvest, but Chanyeol knows that he blames himself for his son’s withdrawal. If he had not been injured, Chanyeol would not have had to work under a blacksmith who thinks him soft, useless, and pathetic. Chanyeol has heard him arguing with his mother late at night about confronting the blacksmith about the sudden change in Chanyeol’s behavior, furious and guilty. Chanyeol’s mother never lets him, though; she is well aware of how dependent they are on the money the blacksmith gives Chanyeol every fortnight and how quickly that money could disappear if they were to upset him.
Instead, she consoles his father with the reminder that Chanyeol will be free to leave his apprenticeship after the next harvest, when the farm will be able to sustain them once more.
Chanyeol rubs his face against the faded ink stain on his quilt to dry his tears. His teeth bite down on his tongue until he tastes metal as a scream builds in his chest. He does not know if he will last until the next harvest. He only just managed the past year through quickly dwindling willpower and his soulmate’s first letter.
Though only five sentences long, the letter has been a candle in the darkness. There were a few mulish, impatient moments where he wished there was more, but five sentences were better than none, better than not having a soulmate at all.
This letter is at least double the length of the first. He pours over each word until his soulmate’s penmanship is burned deep into his brain. His handwriting has become refined in the past year. The letters are not so scratchy, no ink has bloomed out from too much pressure or a quill nib left resting against the paper for too long.
A man. A good man. Chanyeol smiles at that thought and imagines him. He is handsome, the most handsome man in the world – Chanyeol’s heart pangs and his stomach flutters with the bone deep knowledge that the man waiting for him will steal his breath from the moment they meet. A man who enjoys physical labor must be strong, built with the thick muscle Chanyeol is slowly acquiring himself, likely naturally coordinated and good with his hands. He may not be one for schooling and lessons, but Chanyeol finds that he likes how they balance each other. One writes too much, the other does not even fill a page; one loves to cook, the other burns water. They both love music, though.
Chanyeol wonders which instrument his soulmate plays and how well he plays it, if they could play together once they meet. Chanyeol had worried that his soulmate would not love music as much as he does and is relieved to read that his worries were unfounded. He laughs softly at himself even as his eyelids begin to fall, drawn back towards the comforting call of sleep as the early morning clouds block out slowly brightening dawn.
Of course his soulmate loves music as much as he does, this is his soulmate. They are similar and they are different, the same and opposite, tied together by fate like the sun and the moon.
Chanyeol loves him so much and hopes that fate will be kind and lead them together soon.
The last line of the letter flits behind his eyelids. Take care of yourself. He wonders if his soulmate knows he is struggling. When he wrote that line in his sharp, deliberate way, did he know how badly Chanyeol needed to read it? It is an order, a gentle admonishment, as if his soulmate knows how he has let his wants and needs fall to the wayside in favor of his family’s. It was the right thing to do, and still is, but the words are encouragement he did not realize he so desperately needed. He will continue his apprenticeship to care for his family, but he will try to care for himself as well.
Chanyeol falls asleep with his hands holding tight to the letter and his heart holding tight to its contents.
-
Dear Soulmate,
You are seventeen years old today! Do you feel any different than you did last night? I have been wondering about that lately. Before the letters, I did not gain another year until roughly the end of autumn and now I have a particular day where I go from one age to the next. Are we meant to mature just as suddenly? I do not think so. I certainly have not been maturing that way, at least, perhaps you are. Regardless, I hope you enjoy your birthday! I cannot wait until we can celebrate these days together. When we are together, I will do everything in my power to make every birthday better than the one before, I promise!
This is my third letter to you. This one is harder than the others to write somehow. It is not that I do not have things I wish to say to you, because my mind is so full of things I want to tell you and ask you that it feels like there is no space left in my head for anything else. Maybe that is the problem, actually, I want to tell you so much but I cannot decide where to start. Do you feel the same way? Do I captivate your thoughts the way you do mine?
I hope so. If not, I understand; my mother has told me to not expect you to love as quickly or ferociously as I do as we hardly know each other, after all, and not everyone can love a near stranger. I do not consider you a stranger, though. I could never, not when you are the other half of me.
I started thinking about you and forgot what I was writing. That happens more often than I would like to admit, I begin to think about you and your letters and suddenly lose all sense of what I was doing or why I was doing it. My sister teases me for it mercilessly.
Is it especially cold where you live? It is the dead of winter here and it means the forge is not quite as awful to be in for once. It is still awful, though. The blacksmith and the other apprentices have become more and more hostile since I told them that I would be quitting the apprenticeship come this year’s harvest. I did not think that was possible, but I have been proven wrong. I will persevere, mostly in thanks to your letters. I read them as often as I can because they bring me so much joy and comfort.
Since this is the third letter, I want to see what else it will allow me to tell you. My family name is Park. I have dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. I have been told my sister and I look very similar. My sister says that anyone who says that is blind, but I think that is only because she is my older sister and is obligated to take every opportunity to tease me. Do you have any siblings? You have not mentioned much about yourself or your family and it makes me very curious, though I am always curious about you. I wonder if you are someone well-known and cannot tell me anything about yourself or your family because it will make it too easy for me to find you. I hope not, because I do not think that your family would approve of a farmer’s son from a poor northern village and the idea that my presence would cause you strife makes my heart feel as though it has been torn in two.
You mentioned that you love to cook in your first letter. What do you like to cook? Who taught you? What is your favorite food? What is your least favorite? You say that you dislike school but are still in lessons, is that of your own choosing or your family’s?
Are the questions too much? You do not have to answer them all if you do not wish to. I am sorry, I just want to know so much about you that I can hardly stand it! Oh, the things that I wish to say to you! I worry that I will overwhelm you when we do finally meet and I am not limited to a single piece of paper. I feel that I could write you a thousand pages and still have things to say. However, I have been practicing my penmanship so that this one letter can hold even more of what I want to say to you! We have not even exchanged names and you have already changed my life for the better.
I have been thinking about your bouquet and I believe that I know exactly which flowers I want to use. I think you will like it; if you do not, just tell me that you do or tell me that you like at least one part of it. I am very soft-hearted, you know, and very weak to any criticism, especially from someone as important as my soulmate. I am so happy that you are my soulmate. I know that may seem a bit silly considering we hardly know each other, but you seem to be a very kind and gentle man and I consider myself lucky that fate has tied me to you.
Now that I have filled this letter with as many words as it can hold, I wish you a happy birthday once more. I have your third present ready and waiting, I hope that I can give them all to you before you turn eighteen! I love you. I hope that is not too forward, because you always end your letters with love and it always makes me so happy to see it and I would fill a whole letter full of those three words if it would not be a waste of my one chance to talk to you each year. Though I guess these letters are just ‘I love you’ over and over in not so many words, are they not?
After two years and many washes, the stain is finally out of my quilt! Thank you for the suggestion of lemon juice, it was very helpful in taking out the worst of the stain!
Sincerely,
Your Soulmate
-
Dear Soulmate,
Happy birthday.
If I am to be entirely truthful, which I promised to be in my first letter, I do not enjoy writing letters. It is not that I do not enjoy writing to you, because knowing that you will receive this letter is the only reason I am writing in the first place. Writing letters is just something I find incredibly tedious. I know that my letters always substantially shorter than yours and I hope that that has not upset you. I am trying to write more. I do not want you to feel neglected or that I do not care for you the way you do for me, because I do.
You asked if I think you of you as often as you think of me. I believe that my answer is no, because I think of you more.
There is much free time in my work, and I spend every moment of it thinking of you. I have imagined what it will be like to meet you so often that my dreams of the moment feel so real that I wake and call for you to come back to bed. I worry about you in the forges; I worry that you are unhappy, that you will be injured by the metal, that you are not taking care of yourself well enough. You are such a vibrant person that the idea of your spark being snuffed out by the blacksmith pains me greatly. I am so happy that the time for harvests have come and you are nearly free. Hearing that the blacksmith and his other apprentices had become hostile towards you infuriated me.
Every single day I look for you, searching for the smile I see whenever I close my eyes. My older brother has a soulmate of his own, and so he never teases me, but he always laughs when he catches me scouring crowds for the sight of you. I hope that we may meet soon. Living without you, though normal for most of my life, has become arduous since I received your first letter.
To answer some of your questions, I have a mother, a father, two dogs, and an older brother. I cannot tell you my family name. It is too revealing, as is my profession and why I still sit for lessons. Do not worry about my family’s acceptance. They would never turn away my soulmate, especially not when that soulmate is as lovely as you.
I am trying to be more open with how I feel about you, soulmate. I should have done so before, when you were struggling with your apprenticeship and needed my support. It is a bit uncomfortable to speak so plainly about my emotions; it is nice as well, because as I write them and tell you how dear you are to me, how eager I am to have you in my arms, I can picture your happiness at reading them. You are worth any and every discomfort.
The seafood dishes of the coast are what I enjoy cooking the most as that is where my grandmother grew up and what I first learned to cook as a little boy, but I also enjoy baking sweets. I learned everything I know from my mother and grandmother. If I had to choose a favorite food, it would be the chili crabs my grandmother would make every summer. I strongly dislike bananas, raw or baked into something else.
What are your favorite and least favorite foods? You love music, and yet you have not told me your favorite song. I am very partial to a ballad about the meaning of love. It is a duet a pair of singers in the city wrote about each other. They are soulmates and so I cannot help but think of you, my own soulmate, when I hear it.
I think that this is where I must stop. My hand and wrist are quite sore; this is the most writing I have ever done in one sitting. Next year I will try to fill both sides of the paper for you – though I hope that we will meet before then and the letters will only be a formality. Regardless, I wish you a happy birthday.
Love,
Your Soulmate
-
Chanyeol wakes to a ray of morning sunlight shining into his eyes. He rolls over and away from the light with a groan, rubbing at his stinging eyes. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he peers through sleep heavy eyes at the way the sunlight has turned his room yellow. It has been so long since he has gotten to experience this, so long since he was not up with the dawn and rushing out to the forges before the heat of the day made the already unbearable work that much worse.
The last day of his apprenticeship was yesterday. This year’s harvest was bountiful and more than enough to support the family for the rest of the year. He is free – free to do what, he is not quite sure, but free all the same. He smiles at the thought, relief pouring over him like rain.
Winter is chasing autumn away quickly this year. Its chill hangs in the air and he hides from it beneath the warmth of his blankets. It is the end of autumn. Many of the villagers bemoan the end of autumn and the beginning of winter because of the months of cold and snow. Not Chanyeol.
With the end of autumn comes his eighteenth birthday and his soulmate’s third letter. The first two are tucked safely away within a drawer, smoothed out so that they lay flat. He reads them more and more often as the time for the third’s arrival approaches, sometimes once a day, sometimes more. He cannot help himself, not when he is so excited that the first thing he does each morning is roll look to see if the third letter has come, hoping that the sight of a blank, unsealed envelope will be waiting for him. He wonders if his soulmate will do the same thing come midwinter and the time for Chanyeol’s fourth letter is approaching.
Eyelids that had slipped shut snap open. Curses leave Chanyeol’s mouth as he fights against the cocoon of blankets to roll back over and check for an envelope. “Damned sunlight,” he grumbles, pouting when his too-long limbs tangle in the quilt his soulmate had helped him rid of that ink stain.
Eventually, he manages to extricate himself from the blankets and turns over, biting back a shout of delight as he watches an inexplicable breeze blow his window open. A heartbeat later, his soulmate’s third letter floats in and lands on his bed in the same patch of sunlight that had woken him up.
Chanyeol opens the letter with shaking, overeager hands, and reads the letter with a smile that only grows with each paragraph. His heart pounds in his chest as tears of happiness sting the backs of his eyes. Love oozes from each stroke of the quill, nearly tangible when he runs his fingers over the dark, dark lines of Love. He would have never guessed that the man behind those first letters, so short and succinct, would have been capable of something like this, a heart laid bare on paper.
“I am too lucky,” he whispers to himself, reverent, grateful, loved, “Far too lucky to have been given you as a soulmate.”
-
Dear Soulmate,
Happy birthday! We are both eighteen now, only two more years and then we will have lived through two full decades! I have all of your gifts arranged in a neat pile at the foot of my bed for when we finally meet.
Your last letter was the most wonderful thing I have ever read. I am not ashamed to admit that it made me cry multiple times – all tears of joy! Never in my entire life have I ever felt so cherished. I thought I was going to burst from happiness the first time I read it. That you put in so much time and effort to double the length of your letter with each passing year means so much to me, even more so now that I know how much you dislike writing letters in the first place. Truthfully, I am not one for writing letters either; I would also prefer to have you here and be able to talk to you face-to-face. I hope that can happen soon, because to have such a wonderful soulmate and not be able to look into his handsome face and hold him is nearly torturous.
I showed your letter to Yoora, my older sister, and she pretended to be sick, saying that she did not think it was possible to be more disgustingly in love than I already was. She was smiling, though, so I think she was pleased by what she saw. She was worried that you were not going to be affectionate enough. Now, she worries that we are going to be too affectionate and make everyone around us physically ill once we finally meet by being ‘obnoxiously in love’.
I am not entirely opposed to the idea.
Now, you said in your last letter that you believe that you think of me more than I think of you and I want to make it very clear that that is simply not possible! No matter how much free time you may have, I think of you more because I am thinking of you even when I should not be! It drives my mother and father nearly to insanity sometimes. I have walked into roughly six walls since your last letter because I am so preoccupied with thoughts of you. I am not saying that thinking of each other is a competition, but if it is I am winning.
You do win when it comes to worrying, however. Please do not distress yourself over me, alright? Reading your concern warms my heart and makes me feel loved, but I do not want to cause you undue stress when there is nothing you or I can do to ease it. So long as I have your support and comfort, I can weather any struggle that may come my way just as I weathered the apprenticeship. My last day was actually the day before your last letter arrived, so my first day of freedom was also my birthday. It felt very fitting and symbolic.
Did you notice that I am using much more grandiose words now, soulmate? After sending you my last letter, I realized that I would need to have some sort of path ready for when my apprenticeship ended and so I began teaching myself everything I could. If I did not, then I would have to start all over in some other trade or try to rejoin my studies after two years of forgetting. The schoolteacher in the village let me borrow some books and I have been learning all sorts of things, mathematics, vocabulary, the arts, even the natural sciences! I really, truly do love learning. It was difficult, but I am proud of myself for not letting the apprenticeship set me back.
Even more than that, I am proud because all of my studying led to the schoolteacher recommending me to take the placement exam for the country’s universities and I scored so well that I was accepted into the university in the capital itself! I will leave for the capital at the end of spring and start classes in midsummer. I am nervous but also very excited. The excitement comes in two parts, one for the chance to study music or anything else I might enjoy, and one for having a better chance of meeting you. I am scared as well, though. I have never lived away from home before and I am nervous about living in a new place all by myself.
I am starting to run out of space now, so I am going to answer your questions before I forget to and run out of room! My favorite song is also a ballad. I do not think you have ever heard of it; it is a song from my village, written by an elderly woman who was separated from someone very precious to her when they were young. I used to sit in her garden and listen to her sing out to them when I was very young and her voice always made me feel calm and peaceful.
My favorite food is this spicy stew my mother makes throughout the winter. We do not really have any name for it as my mother made it up one winter when I was young and we did not have much to eat. She will put different vegetables and meats in depending on what we have available, and it has yet to be anything short of delicious.
What is a crab? I know it is seafood, but is it a special kind of fish or some other sort of sea creature? I am very curious as to whether they would taste good in the stew. I have never had seafood before, but if you say it tastes good then it must be so!
I do not dislike any food. I find that squash does not taste particularly great unless cooked in very specific ways, but I still cannot say that I dislike it. My close friend, the butcher’s child, has a horrific aversion to cucumbers, however. They become nauseous at the smell and will retch if they accidentally take a bite containing even the smallest pieces. They are very dramatic, but that is why I love them so much. They are a good, loyal friend, and they are very excited to meet you as well.
Happy birthday, soulmate, I love you. I hope to see you soon.
Love,
Your soulmate, Park Chanyeol
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Kyungsoo looks down at the mess of ink scribbled just below his soulmate’s name. Chanyeol had probably gotten so excited that he was able to finally tell Kyungsoo his name that he dropped his quill or spilled his inkpot again. Warmth floods Kyungsoo’s chest at the thought of it. He imagines him, too-long limbs flying in shocked excitement, a shout on his lips as he watches the ink of his name dry without disappearing into the parchment.
There is no face to go with the image, just dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and large ears. Soon, though, there will be.
The trees covering the university’s campus are turning red and gold from the autumn chill. Many leaves litter the ground and are carried by the wind to cover the street outside the university’s gates. They crunch under Kyungsoo’s steps as he walks to the bookshop that sits across the street from the gates and takes his usual place at one of the tables out front. The shopkeeper sees him through the front window and nods in greeting. He gives one of his own in return. The students at the counter purchasing books look between them with wide eyes, mouths dropping open in shock. The bookseller has made quite a reputation for herself with the university students as a nasty witch that would sooner curse them into a toad than say hello. Kyungsoo cannot see it, but he wonders if that is because he is that same sort of person, easily misunderstood.
“Again,” she asks. Her face is stoic and her gaze is cold, but her tone is warm and affectionate. One of the students choke on their own spit. “Do try not to die inside my shop, boy. None of your friends are carrying medical books,” the bookseller jests in a flat voice. Kyungsoo huffs out a laugh through his nose, but the student she spoke to turns pale and hurriedly hands over the money for his books before running out of the shop. The other two do the same.
The bookseller watches them go with open amusement. “I never tire of watching them scurry off like rats. Only good for buying books, those ones, not made of the right stuff like you, Kyungsoo.” She grins and rounds the counter and exits the shop to join him at the table outside. “Waiting for him again, eh? You must grow tired of the waiting.”
Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Never,” he says, “I cannot tire of waiting when I know what the reward for my patience will be. Every second that passes is another second closer to him.” It will all be worth it when Chanyeol finally walks through those gates and into Kyungsoo’s life at long last.
Kyungsoo knew that that is how they would meet when he read Chanyeol’s last letter and realized his soulmate was coming to the same university he attended lessons at as Prince Junmyeon’s personal guard. He will not lie and pretend that he is not surprised that it has taken him so long, though. He thought that it would take a few days for them to meet, a week at most. Two months have passed of Kyungsoo sitting outside the bookshop and waiting for classes to end and students to be released. Prince Junmyeon says that it is not uncommon for scholarship students to stay on campus for a long, long while to accustom themselves to the new environment and rigorous academia.
Not for the first time, Kyungsoo wishes he had just enrolled in a class or two when Prince Junmyeon suggested it. Since the prince graduated in the spring, Kyungsoo is no longer allowed past the gates and cannot wander campus in search of his tall, loud soulmate.
The bell tolls in the university bell tower and signifies the end of exams. Peals of laughter and shouts of joy sound out from behind the gates as a wave of students forms and starts to flood out through the gates. Kyungsoo strains his eyes to aching searching the crowd for someone who matches the faint, vague image of his soulmate he holds in his mind’s eye.
The crowd comes and goes in the span of minutes, students rushing to a week of freedom. Kyungsoo watches them go and tries very hard to fight the disappoint threatening to crush his heart. So many days have come and gone just like this, and yet it never gets easier to cope with.
He smiles a sad smile and sighs, “Not today, then. Perhaps tomorrow. Chanyeol will be so upset when he learns that I have been waiting for him for so long.”
The bookseller smiles too, tinged with sympathy. “You are a good man, Kyungsoo, but do not pretend that it is not you who is sad now. Fate will bring you together when she intends to and not a moment sooner.”
Kyungsoo nods. He knows that fact very well but cannot seem to stop himself from waiting; there is a fear that if he does not, if he skips one single day, that that will be the day Chanyeol finally emerges from the gates and their moment to meet will slip away forever. He knows that will not happen, but fear rarely heeds to reason.
He makes to stand, giving the bookseller his goodbyes for the day, when a flurry of movement catches in the corner of his eye. His head turns in time to watch a man slip in the leaves covering the street and go down in a tangle of limbs and yelps of surprise. He tries to right himself, but he is built long and lanky and does not seem to be quite used to it, overbalancing like a newly born foal. All he does is manage to fall backwards instead of forwards onto his face, the face that is currently gazing up into the clear autumn skies with wide dark brown eyes.
Kyungsoo watches as the man sits up and shakes his head at his own antics. Dark brown hair flops around in all directions as he does so before falling over onto his forehead and around ears that would be comically large on anyone else. He lets out a loud laugh, his cheeks and ears blush a deep, dark red in embarrassment.
Slowly, as though time is wading through deep mud or the sticky brown molasses his mother used to give him spoonfuls of as a treat when he was young, Kyungsoo watches the man look up from where he had been dusting himself off, look up and around to see if anyone had seen him fall, look up and across the street to where Kyungsoo is standing. They see one another from across the street, from across the fabric of fate, from across a thin red string that shimmers into view between them for the few fleeting seconds before their eyes meet. Kyungsoo looks into his eyes and sees everything.
He is young and running with all his might to the river across the field, Baekhyun running beside him. They let out whoops of joy as they race, feet stinging as they slap against the dirt. Baekhyun pulls ahead and cannot be caught no matter how hard he pushes himself. Then, just as they reach the riverbank, Baekhyun slows just enough that they launch themselves into the water at the exact same time. They come up sputtering for air and giggling and he knows that Baekhyun will always be his best friend.
His grandmother hands him the instrument, a strange thing with strings that she says is a gift for surviving his seventh autumn. He does not know what to do with it, and so she shows him, pulling him into her lap and placing his hands on the strings just so. She tells him to strum, to run his fingers down the strings. He does. The sound that comes out of the strange thing is not perfect or all that pleasant to hear, but it is beautiful and fills a pit inside him he did not know was there. Music, his grandmother says, beautiful, hm? It is.
He wakes to a blank piece of paper and an unlabeled envelope on his pillow one cold morning. A soulmate. He has a soulmate.
His butt is stinging from the fall and his face is hot with embarrassment. He hopes no one saw him but knows that that is highly unlikely. He is never that lucky. If he is going to do something foolish, it is sure to be seen by as many people as possible. He looks around to see the extent of his humiliation and sees only two people; a man and old woman are standing outside the bookshop he went to to buy his books from before the semester started. The man is handsome, strongly built, thick with muscle that speaks to a life of hard work. His lips are full, and his hair, cropped short to his scalp, is dark like a shadow. It matches his eyes. A moment passes, and he realizes that that man is him.
Kyungsoo blinks and sucks in a gasping breath like he’s surfacing after diving deep underwater. Across the street, he can see Chanyeol doing the same, his mind snapping back to his body after living through the most important moments in Kyungsoo’s life. Distantly, Kyungsoo wonders what he saw, but is a passing thought, quickly overshadowed and overwhelmed by the need to go to him, to close the last gap of distance between them and be with his soulmate at long last.
He is at Chanyeol’s side and offering his soulmate a hand up before he realizes that he has even started to move. “Chanyeol,” he breathes, “It is you, Park Chanyeol.”
Chanyeol smiles up at him and Kyungsoo’s mouth goes dry as his heart stutters in his chest. It is like staring into the sun, that smile; he would happily be blinded by its light. With Kyungsoo’s help, Chanyeol hurtles up to his feet and pulls Kyungsoo tight against his chest in a hug that threatens to crush the life from him. It would not be a terrible way to die. Chanyeol’s voice pitches up in sheer delight. “You are here! You are here! It is you, my soulmate!”
“Do Kyungsoo.” The words are wrenched out of him. He wants to hear Chanyeol say his name, to know and be known by the most important person in his entire life. “My name is Do Kyungsoo. I could not tell you before because my family has always served the palace. If you knew it, you would know who I was.”
“Do Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol repeats softly, slowly, as though he is savoring each syllable. “Do Kyungsoo,” it comes out louder this time, more excited, and Kyungsoo can see why Chanyeol described himself as loud and tall, “you know, from the moment I received your first letter, I already knew who you were.”
“You did,” Kyungsoo asks.
Chanyeol hums and laughs, the sound of it reverberating through his chest. Kyungsoo’s heart constricts with joy in his own chest. That laugh, this hug, this man in front of him, all of it is his now, his to learn, his to love. His soulmate. “Of course,” Chanyeol pulls back enough to smile down at him, “You were my soulmate. You are mine and I am yours, that is all that I really ever needed to know about you.”