Archive of Our Own

Jihoon has been running through life full-speed ahead for a long time.

From a young age, he’d been meticulously moulded into whatever shape his parents deemed acceptable. His hobbies were only allowed if they were approved of and most of his bright-eyed suggestions had been shot down without mercy. Everything had to be useful somehow, from his after-school activities to who he befriended. His spare time was filled with additional classes, strict tutoring and awkward playdates with kids he barely knew.

Despite all of that he managed to have dreams, ones he kept close to his heart before his parents disapproved and took those away too. One of the kids his parents arranged playdates with had a piano, a big one, glossy black with pristine keys. Sometimes, his friend would play a new piece he had learned. Later, Jihoon realized the kid was probably trying to show off, but in those moments, the only thing he could focus on was the tinkering filling the marble-floored room. At night, he’d repeat the gentle tune over and over again in his head. He imagined himself behind a grand piano, maybe even on a stage, in front of a big orchestra, playing similarly pretty music. He fell in love.

He knew his parents would never approve; he’d overheard several conversations where they subtly talked down on the other parents who allowed their kids to waste their time with hobbies like that. So he kept quiet and tried to keep his love for music tucked away safely in his heart, and he tried to keep up with the ruthless pace his parents had set for him, tripping over himself, scraping his knees.

When he decided he wanted to pursue his dream of producing music after high school, he was met with raised eyebrows and bitter disappointment, as he had expected. It wasn’t a stable career choice, according to his parents. They couldn’t understand where their son had gotten such a silly idea from, and they’d rather he follow in his fathers’ footsteps and choose a major that would benefit the family business like he was supposed to.

It was a stupid dream, according to his classmates.

It was downright dumb, according to his friends, who never truly tried to get to know him but only tolerated him because their parents were business partners. Obviously, he would never succeed. So many try and fail, why would he be any different? Was he so delusional? And what would his soulmate think?

His classmates would whisper loudly amongst themselves about how disappointing it would be to have a selfish soulmate like that, one who doesn’t take their shared future into consideration. Jihoon tried to seem unaffected. The pained glances towards the soulmark on his wrist said something else.

He started wearing a heavy leather band to hide the mark. It made him the target of even more scathing remarks and gossip, and he didn’t have any friends left to soften the blow.

The only reason he ended up chasing his dreams was the old, kind man who owned their local music store. Jihoon spent many hours tucked away in the furthest corner of the shop, listening to CDs and tapes and vinyls and scribbling into a worn notebook. The owner gave him recommendations of genres he’d never heard of before, slipped him CDs he claimed were too old to sell, and let him have his little space in the back of his store. He would explain bits and pieces of music theory to him and taught him a bunch of scales on several different instruments.

On a random day, as Jihoon was about to leave the music store, the owner stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. He’d been dropping by less and less frequently and of course that hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Don’t give up on what makes you happy, Jihoon. Take it from an old man who could know.”

When it was time to make his final decision a few years later, he sat down and considered all of his options like the good son that he tried so hard to be. Business. Communication. Linguistics. He briefly considered applying for archaeology on a whim, the promise of traveling across the world far, far away from his parents luring him in.

But none of the options appealed to him, and none made his heart sing the way music production did. The words from the old man, said so full of care and conviction, still lingered somewhere in the back of his mind.

He made his choice.

His parents kicked him out the second he had revealed his decision; it’s not like he could’ve hidden it from them somehow. They had berated him for what felt like hours, scolding him for making such a useless decision. What would they tell their friends? How could they face their business parents? Jihoon applied for a dorm room that same night, sent his resume to a handful of decent looking part-time jobs and accepted his fate. He quietly packed his bags, carefully wrapping the little equipment he had gathered in secret over the years, and instead of running to keep up, he got a headstart and began running away.

He’d had a small, fragile bit of hope that maybe things would start looking up once he started studying at his university of choice. He would be surrounded by like-minded people after all, who would share his passion and actually understand him.

But he was wrong.

His peers were all schooled and classically trained, practically breezing through the classes that he struggled with. They were either snobby and arrogant or too busy partying to care about lectures, projects or assessments.

Jihoon felt lost and alone and isolated himself from everyone. Instead of hanging out with classmates, he would sit in his dorm with his headphones glued to his head, working on different beats and melodies until his ears started to ring. Or he would spend hours upon hours buried nose deep in his books, trying to fill his head with foreign terms and more theory than his classes actually required. Losing sleep over assignments became a familiar habit, covering for his groupmates who left all the hard work to him.

Anyone that tried to befriend him was met with an icy gaze and clipped sentences. He refused to get attached. They would never actually care and drop him sooner or later anyway.

His internships were shitty. Jihoon barely got to do any actual producing and instead spent his time running around as a glorified coffee boy. He grit his teeth and made up for lost time by producing even more in spare time. He opened a Soundcloud account and uploaded a few of his works that he liked best. They barely got any attention. He made a remix of a popular boygroup song and got harassed into taking it down by their fandom.

He graduated. The paper that he had gone through so many hardships for felt flimsy in his shaking hands.

Applying for jobs turned out even worse than his entire time at university combined. Rejection after rejection filled his mailbox. He managed to snatch a few commissions, mainly one-time jobs for smaller companies looking for a singular song or soundtrack, who usually left him with empty promises to get in touch if they ever needed anything else.

Still, he continued forward, because what else was he supposed to do? He began to upload all sorts of tracks to his Soundcloud, from cheesy pop songs recorded with his own voice to simple classical piano pieces; scoured website after website for every potential job listing he could apply for; functioned solely on coffee and cheap ramen.

Somewhere in between all of this was the occasional fleeting thought aimed at his soulmate. Jihoon couldn’t help but think that, maybe, everyone had been right after all. He could barely keep himself afloat like this, let alone someone else. If he were to meet his soulmate that very second, he would be nothing but an embarrassment and he wouldn’t blame his soulmate for turning someone so selfish away.

So he refastened the leather band covering his mark and ran headfirst into work. Out of sight, out of mind.

Jihoon has been running through life full-speed ahead for a long time and he’s beginning to run out of breath.

He feels stuck, like he’s in the middle of an endless amount of quicksand and no matter what he does, he’s slowly and inevitably sinking towards his demise. It makes him feel powerless, but giving up would be too much like admitting that his decision had been as stupid, dumb and useless as they had all said it was. He’d worked too hard for that, so he continues to battle the quicksand underneath his feet.

Everything is expensive these days and one look at his bank account has him weeping, so he starts spending more time at his favorite café to use their free WiFi. The fact that they serve a free cookie based on their theme of the week is absolutely completely irrelevant and he quickly falls into a comfortable habit.

Jihoon settles his headphones firmly into place, grabs his laptop and starts tapping away. He’s in the middle of rearranging a commissioned track when a cup of coffee he most certainly did not order is placed onto his table with a loud clunk. He looks up from his work.

“You look like you could use some extra caffeine.”

Before Jihoon can even think of a suitable reply, something along the lines of what the fuck or why on earth, the barista skips back to the counter and cheerfully greets the next customer in line.

He glances back at the steaming cup. Oh well, who is he to deny free coffee?

...Jihoon should’ve denied the free coffee. Biggest mistake of his entire life, his miserable career choice easily pales in comparison to what he has gotten himself into now.

The barista who had given him the free coffee (Seokmin, according to his name tag) simply refuses to leave him alone and has made it his personal mission to disturb his peace. It has somehow spread to his coworkers like he’s some sort of human happy virus, infecting each person with good intentions one blinding smile at a time, and they all band together to bother him as much as possible. Some of them slide more free cookies onto his cupholder when they think he isn’t looking (the gentle looking barista with a cute enamel frog pinned to his apron), others give him a discount that should probably get them fired (a guy that looks younger than him with a laugh so contagious it makes him want to record it).

They talk to him and drag him into random conversations, completely unbothered by the cold front he puts on and like his replies aren’t usually short and snippy. They treat him like he’s a feral stray cat and it’s annoying him to no end, so he makes sure to tell them that whenever he gets the chance.

“Ah, hyung, you don’t really mean that though, do you? You keep coming back after all!” is the cheeky reply he gets. Someone in the back cackles. Jihoon huffs and the door slams shut behind him.

He’s back the next day.

“My favorite customer!”

As Jihoon enters the café on a gloomy Tuesday morning, he’s met with a cheerful smile that kind of feels like it could chase away the dreary clouds on its own. Seokmin is standing behind the counter, cleaning it with a damp cloth. “Your usual?”

He nods and makes his way towards the table that has unofficially become his. After emptying his bag, he sets up his laptop, headphones and wireless mouse, and connects to the WiFi.

He’s already halfway through pulling yet another motivational letter for yet another pretentious company out of his ass when Seokmin materializes next to him, carrying his coffee and what looks like a fruit-shaped cookie. He carefully puts everything down and is about to head back when Jihoon stops him. “What’s that supposed to be?” he asks and points at the cookie.

Seokmin cackles. “That’s a peach, hyung. We have a fruit theme going on this week, it was Hao’s idea and it’s a hit! But then again his ideas usually are, he’s a genius. Anyway, I grabbed one because it fits you.”

Nodding as though he understands the reasoning (he doesn’t), Jihoon picks it up and inspects it more closely. Now that he knows what he’s looking at, it does resemble a peach. He takes a small bite. It tastes like one too, subtle yet sweet, and he likes it.

It must show on his face, because Seokmin’s smile somehow brightens. “Enjoy it hyung! You deserve it,” he says before walking away.

Jihoon blinks, the last statement rattling him a little bit. What did he do to deserve a silly little cookie? Weird. He shrugs it off as Seokmin’s inherent kindness and shoves the rest into his mouth.

He steadily works throughout the day, barely taking any breaks. Occasionally, he’s forced into a conversation by the baristas, but he gets a lot of work done and he’s surprisingly satisfied so far. Shutting his laptop, he gets up for a bathroom break.

As he’s making his way back to his table, he walks past the counter.

“—and he’s been really stressed about it too. They’re pressuring him and you know how hard he is on himself.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s honesty ridiculous like why does the showcase need brand new tracks all of a sudden? Using popular songs has literally never been an issue before.”

“It’s probably because of the new guy he mentioned a few days ago. You know how it goes when there’s a change in management.”

“Ah, right. The stuck-up ass-kisser, I think he called him.”

Jihoon doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, not really. It’s not his fault the baristas have loud voices, and the genuine concern in their voices would make anyone a little curious.

He sits back down and tries to concentrate. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the screen while his mind keeps circling back to the snippet of the conversation he just overheard, he gives up. He runs a hand down his face and sighs. It’s just an attempt at paying back the obscene amount of free cookies and coffee, he tries to convince himself as he gets up.

“Uh, hi?”

The two baristas at the counter, still in the middle of their conversation, startle so badly one almost knocks a bottle of caramel syrup to the floor and the other lets out an inhuman squeak.

“Oh, hyung! How can we help you?” Seokmin smiles as he immediately straightens up to grab whatever Jihoon might ask for, while Chan clutches the syrup bottle to his chest, eyes comically wide.

Embarrassed, Jihoon flushes and rubs his neck. “Uhm, well, I kind of heard you two talk just now? About a track or something?”

“Oh no, were we too loud? Sorry hyung, we honestly tend to forget we’re at work sometimes and our manager scolds us for it a lot and we really do try to be mindful of it but it’s just—” Chan rambles, still holding the syrup bottle tightly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Seokmin and Chan exchange a glance. They turn back towards him with equally matching confused looks. Jihoon feels his cheeks burn. This was a terrible idea, he should’ve just sat down and minded his own business.

“You mentioned someone needing new tracks, right? And not, like, a regular, already existing song?” He hopes the ground will magically open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole.

Chan nods. “Yes, a friend of ours needs them for something work-related. He’s been running himself ragged trying to find ones that suit all his needs.”

“Why are you asking, hyung?” Seokmin adds thoughtfully, gently, eyes roaming Jihoon’s face.

He takes a deep breath. He’s dug his own grave, he might as well get comfortable in it. “Maybe I can help?”

A cold gust of wind hits Jihoon square in the face, making his eyes water.

It’s been about a week since he offered his help to a stranger, something so wildly out of the ordinary for him that it still baffles him when he thinks about it.

He had barely hesitated at all and that scared him. Sure, he likes the café staff, he’s willing to admit that by now. They have forcefully wiggled their way into his life and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t care about them at all. He can’t exactly claim they are strangers to him anymore, but they also aren’t his friends. He doesn’t do friendships, no exceptions, so why did he jump at this opportunity? Going out of his way to ask if he could help? It makes something uncomfortable creep up his throat and he can’t really tell what it is.

He checks the navigation app on his phone to make sure he’s still heading in the right direction. Seokmin had scribbled down an address for him, while Chan briefly summarized the situation to give him an idea of what he was getting himself into.

Apparently this friend of theirs, Soonyoung, is a dance instructor working for a popular fitness company. They offer a myriad of classes, covering many styles and genres, in a wide range of difficulties.

With a small frown on his face, Chan explained how a small selection of these classes work towards a showcase each year, and that the instructors are responsible for the entire thing from start to finish. Besides creating a cohesive performance that ties all the individual choreographies together, they’re also expected to take care of the costumes, stage makeup and set pieces, making it a massive task for everyone involved. Seokmin added that a newly appointed manager (the stuck-up ass-kisser, if Jihoon remembers correctly) decided to fire a bunch of instructors, but upped his demands for the showcase. So despite having less people to work with, the remaining instructors were now also supposed to find new music, amongst other things.

Jihoon had winced in sympathy. He’s experienced his own fair share of shitty companies and employers and he was able to relate to their friend’s struggle very well.

As he’s walking along in the cold, following his phone’s instructions, his mind wanders a little and he thinks about what sort of person he’s about to meet. Given that Soonyoung is friends with those two idiot baristas, he’s probably nice. He immediately squashes that train of thought down where it came from; he’s already testing his limits by allowing the café staff to become so friendly with him, he shouldn’t bring more people into his life. Getting attached is a recipe for disaster.

His phone chimes softly, letting him know that he has arrived at his destination. He swipes the notification away, deposits the phone back into his jacket and looks up at the grey building in front of him. It’s huge, the outside a mixture of glass and concrete, with a bunch of tacky motivational posters taped to the doors in hopes of luring people inside. He ruffles his hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat presentable and heads inside.

The sliding doors open with a smooth woosh as he steps through them, heading directly for the reception desk. The employee sitting behind it greets him politely.

“I’m looking for a… Kwon Soonyoung? I’m supposed to meet him in five minutes.”

A few moments later he finds himself walking down a hallway lined with practice rooms. Most doors are closed, only the tiniest hint of music seeping through some of them. He spots a hiphop class, a pair rehearsing a tango routine, a ballet class, and a very… interesting looking modern jazz choreography.

Somewhere towards the end of the hallway is the room the receptionist had pointed him towards. The door is slightly ajar.

Jihoon figures he has no reason to be subtle about this and before he can second guess himself, he walks up to the door and knocks a few times before poking his head in.

Sat on the floor in the middle of the room, completely surrounded by a mess of crumpled up papers, is a guy dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. He looks somewhere between stressed and anxious and his hair sticks up at odd angles. Jihoon doesn’t know if he should be concerned or endeared.

“Kwon Soonyoung?”

The guy’s head whips up so fast Jihoon can hear it crack all the way from where he’s standing.

“That’s me! Hi! Sorry, you can come in, I got a little distracted. You must be Jihoon, it’s so nice to meet you! Also could you close the door behind you, please?” Soonyoung gives an excited little wave as he speaks and attempts to gather some of the papers.

“Sure.”

He gently shuts the door and plops down opposite of Soonyoung, on one of the few bits of floor that isn’t littered with paper.

When he looks up, Soonyoung is already staring at him with a wide smile.

Ah, there it is. Makes sense he’s friends with them.

“Channie said you could help me out? That you make music?”

Straight to the point then, Jihoon muses. “Yes, I’m a producer. Can’t say that I have made anything with a choreography in mind before, but I happened to hear about your situation and figured I could try to help,” he replies.

Soonyoung nods attentively. “Well, I’m honestly really happy you even want to try! You have no idea how grateful I am.”

He then launches into a very detailed explanation of the classes that he needs the music for. One of them is a modern class for adults, and the choreography he has in mind is based on heartbreak, betrayal and longing. The other is a ballet class for young kids and he was hoping to turn their performance into a fairytale with princesses, knights and surprisingly graceful monsters.

Jihoon tries to focus, he really does. But as Soonyoung dives into yet another passionate retelling of how he got the ideas for the showcase and what the meaning of certain elements are, all he can think of is how pretty the guy is. His eyes are sparkling in the harsh practice room light and his entire face transforms into the cutest smile Jihoon has ever seen. Soonyoung gestures wildly as he tries to get him to understand the importance of everyone’s position on stage in relation to the storyline behind the choreography, and something warm blooms beneath his rib cage.

Jihoon snaps himself out it, mentally slapping his cheeks to get himself back into focus, and they discuss things a little further and iron out the details. Before he knows it they’re done, and he’s making his way back to his apartment, notebook filled with potential ideas and a new phone number added to his contacts.

He flings his coat onto the coat rack, toes off his shoes, places his bag somewhere to the side and sits down on the couch with his head in his hands.

What the fuck was wrong with him earlier today?

Jihoon has been running through life full-speed ahead for a long time, but for once he doesn’t feel like he’s struggling to keep up the pace.

He spends most of his time in his studio, working on perfecting the tracks he promised Soonyoung. The deadline is creeping closer, but he’s dealt with worse pressure before and he sets his mind onto delivering the best pieces he’s ever created. Some might say he’s overdoing it a little bit, but Jihoon doesn’t care. He’s a perfectionist, sue him.

His visits to the café have dwindled down in frequency, but he still makes sure to drop by occasionally for their coffee and free cookies (and if Seokmin claims it’s actually because he wants to see them, well, he’s a liar. He’s clearly there for the cookies and the cookies alone).

On the days where the studio begins to feel a little cramped and he swears the walls are closing in on him, he heads towards Soonyoung’s usual practice room. He isn’t sure when it became a habit, but somewhere along the line he’d managed to memorize Soonyoung’s schedule and knows when they can meet up during the breaks between his classes. Actually, he’s pretty sure he would know when the other is free regardless of knowing his schedule by heart, since Soonyoung hasn’t stopped texting him every tiny little detail of his daily life ever since they exchanged numbers.

u can come ovr if u want!!!!! class got cancld. bring coffee plz thnk u

saw a cute kitty outside look hes literally u [image attached]

srry im running late tday :((((( maybe come over tmrw? also did u watch the funny vid i sent u its rlly funny i promise

jihoonah can i still switch careers. a kid puked on me aftr too many pirouettes what did i do to desrv this

They usually just hang out in the practice room, huddled against a wall, talking about anything and everything. He asks about Soonyoung’s dance classes, reveling in the way the other lights up as he starts to praise his students. In turn, Soonyoung asks him about the progress on the tracks and listens intently when Jihoon explains any changes he’s made to the arrangement or why he chose a certain instrument. They complain about the weather, discuss the newest cookie theme at the café, or simply scroll through funny animal videos on Soonyoung’s phone.

At some point it occurs to Jihoon that they’ve never talked about soulmates or anything soulmate related, and it’s a complete mystery to him until he accidentally learns from Seokmin that Soonyoung’s approach to life is very simple: he’ll take fate as it comes. Jihoon finds a new sort of appreciation for him.

Since they meet in between classes, he never actually gets to see Soonyoung dance; yet there is not a single doubt in his mind that he’s incredibly talented. He sees it in the way the other holds himself, an effortless sort of control over each muscle that comes from fully earned confidence in his body. When Soonyoung offers to show him a part of the choreography, he flushes from head to toe and quickly manages to turn it into a joke, and fortunately for his blood pressure, Soonyoung plays along.

Soonyoung also becomes a fixed part of his studio. After having him over once, he’s taken the liberty to spontaneously knock on the door at any given moment, usually with two coffees and a bag of cookies in his hands. Jihoon realized pretty quickly that Soonyoung loves watching him work; he’ll sit on the couch for hours, simply observing him compose and rearrange and record, completely fascinated by the entire process. It’s happened more than once that Jihoon turns around to ask for his opinion on something, only to find Soonyoung fast asleep, still sitting in the position he’d been watching him in earlier. Despite all of the complaints about the rent-free hogging of his couch, there’s a small fluffy pillow placed next to a folded throw blanket on the couch when Soonyoung visits again. Jihoon waves any questions away with the excuse that it’s cold outside. Soonyoung is kind enough not to point out that he could simply turn up the heat instead.

There is a small tiger figurine perched on the big monitor in the studio, a random gift he brought along just because. The only reason Jihoon hadn’t shoved it into a drawer, is the way the others’ eyes lit up when he spotted the tiger when entered the studio the day after.

Before he’s realized it, Soonyoung has made a permanent place for himself in his studio, his life and his brain. Whenever he’s around, he’s the only thing Jihoon can focus on. When they aren’t near each other, his thoughts are filled with nimble hands, bright laughter, crinkling eyes, and silly comments. He thinks about how he would love to reach out and push Soonyoung’s hair off his forehead, seeing if it’s really as soft as it looks. Or about how he wants to hold hands and run a finger across his knuckles, gently tracing each bump and committing them to memory. He daydreams about Soonyoung wrapping him in a hug, warm, gentle, feeling like home and holding on like he never plans on letting him go.

It terrifies him. The leather band on his wrist itches, suddenly feeling too tight and too loose at the same time. He absentmindedly fiddles with it.

“So, I was thinking, do you want to go and grab some dinner with me, after you’re finished for today? I swear you haven’t had a decent meal in weeks and you can’t fool me, Jihoon-ah, I know you better than you think.”

Soonyoung halfheartedly glares at him from the studio couch, where he’s comfortably curled up in the knitted throw blanket.

His heart thuds in chest, battering against his rib cage like it’s trying to escape, and he leans back against the chair, closing his eyes.

“Please?”

He can hear the pout in Soonyoung’s voice. “Sure, Soonyoung-ah.”

“HA! I knew you loved me! Now c’mon and hurry up, I’m starving.” He flops halfway off the couch, dramatically clutching his stomach.

Jihoon can’t find it in himself to retort with something snarky, so he opens his eyes again and saves the file he was working on instead.

Humming a new melody that has slowly been forming in his head, Jihoon walks the by now familiar route to Soonyoung’s company.

He’s almost done with the tracks for the showcase, the only thing that’s left to do is some finishing touches and a final double check. The tracks suit the performances perfectly and he can only attribute that to the odd synergy he seems to have with Soonyoung. They cooperate well together, their respective workstyles seem to compliment each other and they’re practically on the same wavelength of creativity. He’s convinced it’s the reason the music simply seemed to flow out of his hands and into the software.

The doors slide open as he steps through them. He nods to the receptionist who has begun to recognise him lately, and he doesn’t want to dwell on how that makes him feel.

He realizes something is somewhat out of the ordinary once he nears Soonyoung’s practice room and realizes the door is closed, rather than ajar, like usual. He stops in the middle of the hallway and fishes his phone out of his pocket. No new text messages and he’s absolutely sure that there’s supposed to be a break between classes right now, according to the schedule.

Putting his phone away again, he heads for the room anyway and peeks through the little window.

A class must’ve run late, because he can see a handful of exhausted students still being led by an equally exhausted and sweaty Soonyoung. Judging from their movements, Jihoon assumes it must be a modern class.

He’s about to turn back and go home, when Soonyoung happens to spot him. He waves enthusiastically and after a quick word with his students, comes bounding over. As he throws the door open, the familiar sound of one of the showcase tracks reaches his ears.

“Jihoon-ah! Sorry I completely forgot to text you! We’re running late because we’re working on the showcase, and— Jihoon-ah? Are you okay?”

Is he? He can’t tell.

His eyes are glued to Soonyoung’s wrist. It suddenly and almost violently hits him that he’s never seen Soonyoung in anything other than oversized hoodies or long-sleeved shirts due to the cold. There’s static filling his mind. His ears are ringing. The world seems to spin a little.

A gentle, warm hand lands on his arm and he’s forcefully dragged back into reality.

Soonyoung.

Wearing a tank top. Showing the soulmark on his wrist, in plain sight.

A soulmark he knows better than anything else because there’s an exact copy on his own wrist, burning underneath leather.

He doesn’t know what to do. Or what he is supposed to do. He wasn’t prepared for this. How is he supposed to handle this?

He doesn’t know.

So his mind short-circuits to the thing he does know how to do.

He runs.

Jihoon has been running through life full-speed ahead for a long time, but it had never felt so wrong to run before.

It’s been a week.

A week and two days, to be precise. Not that Jihoon is keeping track, or anything. Not at all.

He ran. He threw himself into all the work he could get his hands on. He finished the showcase tracks and submitted them, churned out three more tracks for his Soundcloud and absolutely refused to acknowledge the fact that they were all love songs. He took on more commissions than he could realistically handle, just to try and drown out the mess swirling in his head. He had chucked his phone on the floor behind him after turning it off, not knowing how to deal with anything.

A week of barely making it through to the next day and desperately trying to make sense of the endless barrage of thoughts that whirled through his mind and the memories of scathing remarks that kept him wide awake at night.

“Why must you disappoint us like this, son?”

The voice of his father rings through his head, the memory jarring.

“Woah, this track is beautiful, you’re a mastermind, Jihoon-ah!”

Soonyoung’s excitement clashes violently with the disappointment.

“I could never imagine having such a selfish soulmate like that…”

His classmates’ disgust stabs between his ribs.

“My favorite ice cream? You’re so thoughtful Jihoon-ah, what would I do without you~”

The sting is soothed and replaced by gentle reassurances and fondness.

His mind reels, he can barely keep up.

What he was he supposed to do?

He has no clue. He tried and tried and tried but came up empty every single time. So he does nothing.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to.

It’s been a week and three days and the lock of his studio door clicks open.

Jihoon turns around, confused, until he sees the person peeking around the door. Soonyoung.

“Uhm, hi, Jihoon-ah… I… I brought coffee and cookies?” He holds up a paper bag and two to-go cups with a familiar café logo.

Jihoon blinks. Once. Twice. Swallows, tries to get his dry throat to cooperate. “Sure, Soonyoung-ah.”

The silence that follows is awkward at best. Soonyoung puts the coffee down on his desk and offers him the bag.

“They’re peach cookies.”

Jihoon kind of wants to cry.

They sit and eat. Soonyoung keeps bouncing his leg, restless. He wants to reach out and put a calming hand on his knee but he feels like that would be the wrong thing to do.

“How did you get a studio key?” he asks instead.

A small smile forms on Soonyoung’s lips. “You gave it to me. Said you were getting tired of having to get up in the middle of your work to let me in, remember?”

Oh, right. He forgot about that.

“Jihoon-ah,” Soonyoung begins, “please, please tell me if I’m wrong and misunderstanding this, but are we— do you— are we soulmates?”

He might as well have dumped a bucket of ice over Jihoon’s head, but he supposes the question is only fair.

“Yes,” he whispers.

Slowly, as though he’s approaching a skittish animal, Soonyoung moves closer to him. He reaches out, carefully, gently, and undoes the leather band on Jihoon’s wrist. Jihoon lets him.

“Oh.”

A soft gasp leaves him as he lets it fall to the ground, and he sees the same mark as his.

He runs a finger across the outline and Jihoon trembles. Suddenly overwhelmed, he takes his arm back and turns away as much as the chair allows him to. His vision blurs and he blinks rapidly.

There’s the rustling of fabric and next thing he knows, Soonyoung is crouched by his side, taking one of his hands, folding it between his own.

“Please listen to me, okay? Promise me you’ll hear me out?”

All Jihoon can do is give a tiny nod.

“What I want you to know before anything else, is that I’m glad it’s you, Jihoon-ah. I feel so lucky that it’s you. I don’t know or understand what’s going on inside your head; I don’t know what you’re struggling with or who hurt you so much that you won’t let yourself have this. Or why you felt the need to run,” Soonyoung says, softly, with a firm grip on his hand, “but I promise you from the bottom of my heart that it’s okay.”

Jihoon sniffs.

“Whatever is holding you back right now, it’s okay. You don’t have to do or say anything. Not right now. All I want you to know is that I am so, so glad it’s you, and whenever you’re ready I’ll be here. Right here, right beside you, okay?”

There’s a steady stream of tears rolling his cheeks. One hand reaches up towards his face and a gentle thumb wipes some of them away.

“You deserve to be loved, and you are so easy to love. You might not believe me yet but I promise you that it’s true, and until you realize it for yourself, even if it takes forever, I will be here to remind you instead. I promise.”

Soonyoung holds onto him like he’s something fragile, with one hand cupping Jihoon’s face, the other still folded protectively over his own hand in his lap. He repeats whispered reassurances as Jihoon cries. Not just for his soulmate, for the situation they’re in and the feelings he’s wrestling with, but he cries for everything. He tries to tell Soonyoung he’s sorry but chokes on his words, and Soonyoung shushes him, telling him it’s okay, he’s okay. He lets everything out, tear by tear, and Soonyoung holds him, keeps him from falling apart entirely, until he’s so tired from crying that he begins to fall asleep.

With a fond smile, Soonyoung picks him up from the chair and lays him down on the couch, propping the pillow underneath his neck and covering him with the throw blanket.

As Jihoon drifts further and further off to sleep, he feels gentle fingers carding through his hair and a barely there brush across his tear-stained cheek. Something even softer briefly touches his forehead.

He’s fast asleep before the studio door falls shut.

Jihoon has been running through life full-speed ahead for a long time and he’s tired.

He’s been running for too long, sprinting too fast and too mindlessly, away from everything, towards nothing.

That realization hits him with a startling sort of clarity and it’s like he can actually breathe again for the first time in years.

His lungs ache and his legs burn but he can breathe.

His first mission begins with sorting out the absolute chaos surrounding him. His studio is a mess of empty cups and torn wrappers and there’s a stubborn layer of dust clinging to every single surface. After he’s finished cleaning, he looks around to observe his efforts. It feels like a brand new studio and he can’t help but feel it’s fitting, somehow.

He finds his phone, plugs the charger in and systematically works through all of the notifications that come pouring in. He reassures his friends— friends?… Jihoon pauses, but doesn’t force the thought away like he used to. He reassures his friends that he’s okay and promises to visit them soon.

He carefully reads every single message Soonyoung had sent him before he had decided to come over. His heart grows warm, full of affection, and he doesn’t even notice he’s smiling fondly at his phone.

The last message Soonyoung sent him is pretty recent, and only consists of a calendar event. He opens it.

It’s the date, time and location of the showcase.

Jihoon adds it to his calendar.

Four days. He has four days to get this right.

There’s an uncomfortable lump digging into his ass and he’s seated behind a guy so tall he blocks a portion of the stage, but if Jihoon is being honest he can’t even be bothered by any of it.

Despite the giant in front of him, he’s happy with the seat he managed to get: relatively close to the stage and almost exactly in the middle of the theatre. A small bouquet, a mixture of honeysuckle, daffodils and amaryllis, is laying in his lap. He hopes it’s still in a good enough condition despite having carried it through the harsh wind outside.

The light dims and an excited murmur spreads through the audience. The showcase begins.

Jihoon knows he’s technically supposed to be focusing on the students. They worked hard to prepare what has so far been a flawless performance, giving each choreography their all as they stand underneath the bright spotlights. But his attention is stuck elsewhere.

Earlier, during the kids’ ballet performance, he’d spotted Soonyoung standing just off stage, half hidden behind the curtains, gesturing along for the kids and their tiny attention spans. It seemed to help because most kids were able to keep up and it had been the cutest fairytale performance. The track Jihoon had composed fit the theme perfectly and if it made his eyes water a little bit, it must’ve been some pollen in the air.

Now, however, Soonyoung is dancing on stage alongside his students, as much a part of the performance as everyone else. He makes the modern choreography look easy, his moves effortless and confident, like he’s born to dance and stand on a stage. To Jihoon, it looks like he’s bending the music to his will instead of the other way around. In his humble opinion Soonyoung is clearly the star of the show, but he might be a little biased.

Loud applause snaps him out of his thoughts and he claps along with honest enthusiasm. On stage, Soonyoung ushers his students forwards with a smile so wide it must hurt and they all bow deeply to the audience together. Pride rushes through Jihoon and excitement thrums in his heart. That’s his soulmate.

He’s a little sweaty, both from the nerves prickling beneath his skin and from having battled his way through the crowd to get to the narrow backstage area, but he’s here. He isn’t running, his feet are firmly planted on the floor. Jihoon feels oddly at peace with that.

Slowly, students and instructors file out of the stage door, immediately being swept up and greeted by friends, family or loved ones. His hands are a little clammy and he tries to subtly dry them on his pants.

Jihoon stands on his toes to see if he can get a glimpse of Soonyoung. He’s about to give up when the door opens, and he rushes towards the person coming through.

“Soonyoung-ah!”

Soonyoung looks up, eyes wide and jaw hanging slightly open. He’s also sweaty, with a towel draped over his neck, and he has already changed into more comfortable clothes. He hesitates.

Jihoon smiles and holds the bouquet out for him to take. “You did a great job with the performance, so, these are for you,” he says.

“Ah— thank you.”

A lovely blush creeps onto Soonyoung’s cheeks as he stutters out his reply and Jihoon kind of wants to kiss him. So he does.

He walks up to him and before he can overthink, he plants a kiss on Soonyoung’s right cheek, retreating immediately afterwards.

The baffled look on his face makes Jihoon giggle a little.

“Jihoon-ah… what does this mean?” Soonyoung asks him, softly, like he’s afraid the other will bolt the second it leaves his mouth. He breathes in. Holds it. Breathes out. The thought of telling him doesn’t scare him as much as it used to.

“I’m sorry I ran from you. I was… overwhelmed. And scared. I didn’t know what to do so I ran, because that’s what I’ve always done. It’s the only thing I know how to do, really. But you made me realize that I don’t have to run, not anymore. Not alone.” He clears his throat, tries not to start crying again, and continues.

“Soonyoung-ah, I want to stop running away and stay right here, by your side, if you’ll have me.”

With tears glistening in his eyes, Soonyoung steps closer to him, the bouquet crinkling between them. Jihoon reaches out and gently holds his face between his hands, returning the gesture he had gotten so much comfort from when he’d broken down in his studio.

“Only if you’ll have me, too,” Soonyoung replies with a sniffle and Jihoon rolls his eyes, fond. “Of course, you idiot.”

Jihoon doesn’t know who leans in first and he finds he also doesn’t really care. The second their lips meet, his entire body sings with happiness the way it has only ever done when he’s working on his music. His soulmark softly hums underneath his skin on his wrist, free from the leather band, and he knows he’s made the right decision.

They separate but Jihoon refuses to let go of Soonyoung’s face, shamelessly drinking in each and every detail now that he allows himself to, gaze flitting from his eyes to his cheeks back to his—

Someone next to them clears their throat and pops their little bubble. “Excuse me?”

They startle, jumping away from each other, and they turn to see a man standing a few steps further down the backstage room, smiling apologetically.

“So sorry for interrupting you two, but I’m on a tight schedule. I’m Song Hwacheol, artist manager and talent scout for SVT Entertainment, pleasure to meet you. I was told one of you is responsible for tracks three and six of the showcase?”

Jihoon and Soonyoung share a look, confused.

“Yes, uhm, I produced those tracks. I’m Lee Jihoon, nice to meet you?” he trails off a little, making it sound more like a question than anything.

Song Hwacheol nods at him, still smiling. “Great! I loved the ambiance you created, and the way each element was connected was simply fascinating, truly a breath of fresh air. In fact, it’s exactly what we are currently looking for at SVT. How would you feel about setting up a meeting to explore some of the options we can offer you?”

Soonyoung nudges his ribs, nodding furiously when Jihoon throws him a look, and he turns back to the scout.

No more running away.

So… how about running at his own pace, with someone important by his side instead?

“Sure.”

He reaches into his coat, rummaging through one of the inner pockets and takes out a small business card. Song Hwacheol observes it with interest before tucking it into some sort of folder. “Thank you for your consideration and like I said, it’s been a pleasure to meet you, Woozi. Please look forward to our call.” And with that, the man is gone.

“Woozi?” There’s a small frown on Soonyoung’s face and Jihoon wants to reach over and smooth it out, erasing his worries; instead, he settles for holding the hand that isn’t clutching the bouquet instead.

He hums. “That’s my artist name. Kind of like a pseudonym, I use it for whatever I create and release as an artist or producer.”

“Woozi…” Soonyoung repeats slowly, like he’s piecing something together.

“Yes?”

“Woozi as in, the Soundcloud artist, Woozi?”

Jihoon blinks. “… Yes?”

“Woozi as in, the Soundcloud artist whose music I have been using for my dance classes for years, Woozi?”

He’s pretty sure his jaw hits the floor. “You’re kidding.”

Soonyoung immediately starts shaking his head, the towel around his neck almost falling onto the floor. “No, really! I have tons of videos! Whenever I needed a track I would just go to Soundcloud and use one of Wooz— I mean, I guess, yours? They always gave me the inspiration I needed.”

They blankly stare at each other for a few seconds before they burst out giggling.

“Must have been fate, huh.” Jihoon says. Soonyoung snorts, then tangles their fingers together.

“Yeah, must have been fate.”

Jihoon had been running through life full-speed ahead for a long time, until he met someone that showed him a change of pace.

And now, he’s no longer running alone.