Chapter Text
Minho didn’t believe in soulmates. The idea that every single person in the world had one person that they were destined to be with seemed too far-fetched. It would also require him to believe in fate, or destiny, or any sort of higher power, all of which he had been staunchly against for most of his life. Everyone would have people that they clicked with, sure, but it was mostly due to environment or proximity or general personality rather than the cosmic forces of the universe.
So yeah, Minho scoffed at the idea whenever it was brought up (usually by Hyunjin, whose hopeless romanticism was definitely his most annoying trait), and ignored his friends calling him cold-hearted for “not believing in true love”. He believed in true love, in everlasting love, in all that romantic bullshit just fine, he simply didn’t buy into the idea of soulmates.
That is, until he met Jisung.
It didn’t seem possible that one person could change everything so drastically, and yet. Minho’s entire world had been turned upside down, and it was the single greatest thing that had ever happened to him.
Like every great love story, it started at a gas station. Minho was filling up his car, shifting from foot to foot on the hot pavement, the late July sun soaking the air. He heard his name being called out from somewhere behind him, and turned to see who it was. There were two guys around his age getting out of a small SUV. Minho recognized one of them as Jeongin, one of Hyunjin’s friends from university.
“Hey,” he called back in acknowledgment. He and Jeongin had only met a few times, but he’d heard plenty of stories from Hyunjin. He didn’t recognize the other figure that was with him.
Probably one of those annoying jock dudebros that Hyunjin always hangs around to try and get their numbers, Minho thought.
“How are you doing?” Jeongin asked, ambling over to Minho’s car.
“Good, how about you?” Minho pushed his sunglasses back up.
“Pretty good, we’re just grabbing some snacks on the way home. This is Jisung, by the way. Jisung, this is Minho, he’s friends with Hyunjin.”
The other guy, Jisung, apparently, nodded at Minho, and Minho nodded back, taking a closer look at him for the first time. He had dark hair that was long enough to fall into his face, slightly covering eyes that were bright and round. He had full cheeks and a sharp jawline, and his loose white tank top revealed muscular arms that Minho realized he might have been staring at for a second too long. He had been taking all of this other man in for a second too long, really.
He’s cute, was Minho’s first thought, which was swiftly followed by an oh no.
“Hey, I don’t know if Hyunjin told you, but we’re going to be having a party at our place this weekend. You should come by.” Jeongin piped up again.
Minho blinked a couple of times, stirring himself back to reality and belatedly remembering to stop the gas pump.
“Yeah, I might see if I can make it, you know, if nothing else comes up.” He tried to sound nonchalant as he hung the nozzle back up and turned to face the other two men.
“Sweet, I’ll have Hyunjin send you the details,” Jeongin said merrily. “Anyways, we should grab our stuff, so I’ll see you then, alright?”
Minho nodded, raising his hand to wave goodbye. Jisung flashed a smile his way, teeth impossibly white.
“It was nice meeting you. See you later.” His voice was silky smooth, almost melodic, in a way. Minho just nodded weakly and smiled back, trying desperately to ignore the slightly swoopy feeling he had just experienced in his gut as he watched the pair walk away.
Yeah, this was definitely going to be a problem.
-
Years later, Minho wouldn’t be able to remember anything about that party. Anything, that is, except for the way he very awkwardly approached Jisung, who was sitting quietly near the corner of the room, and was shocked to discover just how easy he was to talk to. After chatting for only a few minutes, Minho had forgotten that they’d just met in passing a few days ago; it already felt like he’d known him for years.
They spent practically the whole night with each other, other friends flowing in and out of the conversation, but never for more than a few minutes at a time. Minho had completely abandoned the alcohol he was given when he came in because he wanted to be as lucid as possible during this conversation.
He’d never clicked with someone the way he did with Jisung. They had similar interests and Jisung seemed to understand him even when Minho said something a little strange that would give most people pause. He was already fond of Jisung’s deep belly laugh and was determined to hear it as much as possible, though Jisung might have been winning that war by being effortlessly funny himself and keeping Minho giggling the whole night. Giggling.
He felt a blush creep up his neck every time he took note of the way Jisung’s eyes were trained on him, dark and sparkling, so invested in whatever nonsense Minho was saying. Minho wanted to know everything about him, pry him open from the inside, and he’d only known him for a total of about four hours.
It took months of group hangouts, clunky attempts at flirting, and very knowing looks from all of his friends before Minho finally worked up the nerve to ask Jisung out for real. He would always remember the smile that lit up Jisung’s face when he did, with a nervous giggle and the cutest flush on the apples of his cheeks, as he told Minho he thought he’d never ask.
(Minho would argue for years afterward that Jisung should have just asked him first if he knew he felt the same way, and Jisung would always reply, “But where’s the fun in that?”)
Their first date had been the single greatest date Minho had ever been on, until their second, and their fifth, and their twentieth, and every single other one after that. Minho hadn’t felt nervous at all for the first date, only excited, which was something he’d never experienced before. He took the cheesiest possible route and took Jisung to a nearby carnival (Hyunjin had practically swooned when Minho told him), and Jisung had bounced around with the energy of a small child, so excited by the lights and the games and the smell of popcorn wafting through the air. Minho was so endeared by everything about him that he started getting physical pains in his chest. He may have also spent about $50 on a carnival game trying to win Jisung a massive plush panda bear that definitely wasn’t worth that much, but that’s neither here nor there.
Jisung had been so excited when Minho had finally managed to hook all of his rings on the peg targets that he jumped up and down while clutching his arm, catching a very giggly Minho off guard with kiss on the cheek, given without thought. When Jisung realized, he stood still, his mouth adorably in an o-shape and his whole face red. Minho, himself blushing the shade of a tomato, just grabbed the panda from the carnival worker and presented it to Jisung with a flourish.
“For you, my liege,” he said in an overly grandiose voice. Jisung laughed, and the way his eyes scrunched up gave Minho an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach.
Their first real kiss happened on date two, when Jisung had insisted that it was his turn to take them on one. He took Minho to one of his favorite restaurants, and then they went for a walk along the river with boba teas they’d gotten from a tiny shop one street over. Minho liked a classic milk tea, but he would learn that Jisung always went for the sweetest, fruitiest green tea they had (today, it was peach).
They had been talking the whole time, throughout the dinner and the walk, with hardly any lulls in the conversation at all. Minho was pretty sure he’d never been this comfortable this quickly with anyone in his entire life. Being with Jisung just felt so right, like he was some sort of missing puzzle piece.
They had stopped at a bench to watch the sunset, occasionally making quiet comments while watching the ducks swim around. Jisung’s hand rested on the bench next to Minho, and Minho was struck with the overwhelming urge to hold it. So he did.
Something about Jisung made him feel bold, like nothing he did would ever be awkward or too much because Jisung was always on the same level. He softly grasped onto Jisung’s hand, and Jisung turned to him with wide eyes. A gentle smile took over his face and he interlaced their fingers together. They sat like that for a long time, until the sun had fully passed beyond the horizon and the only light was the street lamps that sat at intervals along the pathway. Minho glanced over at Jisung in the soft light and caught him staring at Minho’s face. His breath caught in his throat.
“Jisung,” Minho breathed out, not even sure what he was going to say next, but luckily Jisung interrupted him.
“Can I kiss you?” Jisung blurted out, his face instantly flushing. Minho fought the grin spreading over his lips as he told Jisung he thought he’d never ask.
(Jisung, in response to Minho’s own complaints, would argue for years afterward that Minho should have just kissed him first if he wanted to that badly, and Minho would always flash a shit-eating grin and reply, “But where’s the fun in that?”)
Minho would still rank that first kiss as one of his top five of all time (all five on the list involved Jisung, they had discussed their personal lists in great detail). It felt like something had finally clicked in him the moment their lips touched, like his life was finally starting. His entire body flooded with warmth and felt tingly, and he practically melted into Jisung’s touch at the feeling of his hands on Minho’s jaw. It was so soft, so sweet, that the second they pulled away from each other for a breath, Minho just wanted to latch onto him again and never let go. When Jisung smiled up at him, his entire face practically glowing, Minho knew this was probably a forever thing, and it didn’t even scare him how much he wanted that.
So maybe he did believe in soulmates, after all.
-
He and Jisung were together for years, the best years of Minho’s life. They went through every big milestone side by side: promotions, changing career paths, moving in together.
Minho had never been in a relationship where his significant other was truly his best friend, and he couldn’t believe how much he’d been missing out on. Jisung was the only person Minho wanted to talk to after a hard day, and the first one to hear all of Minho’s terrible jokes. He and Jisung would call each other randomly throughout the day, just to hear the other’s voice, and sometimes they’d both call in sick to work and spend the day together - hiking or shopping or just lazing around at home.
They fit so well, so easily. They were similar in so many ways, but their differences balanced out too. Jisung’s boisterous personality gave Minho energy when he didn’t feel like socializing, and Minho’s confidence rubbed off on Jisung, making him less insecure and able to stand up for himself more. They made each other better, which was the kind of cheesy sentiment that Minho would have hated to hear before they met and he experienced it firsthand.
Minho loved every little thing about him. He loved his eyes, the deep tone of his voice when he hummed songs around their apartment, the way he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth when he was concentrating really hard on something. He loved the way Jisung would hug him from behind while he was cooking, begging for a taste of whatever was on the stove. He loved how Jisung saw the world with endless optimism, how he was soft and contemplative and always jotting things down in his notebook, how he would always unconsciously intertwine his fingers with Minho’s when they were out somewhere, no matter how many years they’d been together.
They talked about getting married, of course, but they weren’t in any sort of rush. Weddings were expensive, and Minho wasn’t a big fan of parties to begin with, so they’d just been putting it off, content with the way things were. Secretly, Minho loved the idea of getting to propose to Jisung and call him his husband, even if all that would change about their situation was a couple of rings and signatures on a page. He planned on doing it, one day, when he was sure they could afford the kind of expensive ring that he thought Jisung deserved.
One day, when everything was perfect.
-
“If I murdered someone, would you help me cover it up? Or would you turn me in?” Jisung asked one night, tracing Minho’s hand lightly in the dark as they lay under the covers. This was a fairly standard late-night conversation for them, so it barely fazed Minho.
“Is this your way of confessing something?” Minho asked slyly. Jisung pouted.
“No, just like…hypothetically.”
“Okay, well now you definitely sound guilty.”
“Just answer the question, you menace.” Jisung poked him lightly in the chest.
“Menace? You’re the one murdering people.”
“Minho,” Jisung whined.
“Fine. My answer is no, I wouldn’t turn you in.”
“Really? Even if it was super bad and involved some innocent person?”
“Jagi, I know you well enough to know that if you murdered someone, then it was for a good reason. I wouldn’t mind being your accomplice.” Minho said the last part in a cooing voice, teasing.
“Are you sure? What if I was like…a serial killer or something? Hypothetically.”
“Okay, Jesus, this is too specific, I’m actually getting scared now.”
“Well obviously you would be fine. If I wanted to kill you, I would have just done it already.”
“You’re so sweet, jagi.”
“What can I say? You charmed me.”
-
Seven years. Seven perfect years together, and Minho already saw the rest of their lives spread out in front of them. He hadn’t had a bad life by any means, but being with Jisung felt like seeing colours for the first time, like he wasn’t really sure how he had lived his life at all before this. He was so, so in love, more than he ever thought possible.
He didn’t even cringe when he did something cheesy anymore, like leave Jisung little notes in his lunch, or make a playlist for a road trip only thinking about what songs Jisung would like (it was a sacrifice to listen to that many Disney songs in a row, but Minho pushed through for the sheer joy of watching Jisung act them all out dramatically).
Minho cursed his past self for ever being cynical enough to scoff at the idea of soulmates. It was like the planets had specifically aligned to play a joke on him and deliver his own soulmate to him out of the blue, just to prove him wrong. The cosmic forces of the universe had to be involved for sure, because they just felt so made for each other, Minho could never imagine loving anyone else like this.
And he was pretty confident he wouldn’t have to. They were forever, and Jisung was perfect - the light and love of his life. They were perfect.