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“About time someone my age shows up,” Kei mumbled, following the producer’s order to make a comment about being older. He knew what that meant. The next person to come in would match that description. He just hoped he would actually be close to his own age and not just Hayate’s age.
Someone appeared in the doorway, slowly, taking in the room and bowing before fully entering. His demeanour betrayed a subtle confidence. Though his smile seemed a bit nervous, he was overall unfazed by the many cameras, by the many eyes anticipating him.
Kei recognized his face. He’d seen all the trainee profiles before. His hair was different now, and he hadn’t been smiling in the photo. But just like Kei had lingered for a moment longer on that profile, he held back his reaction now, standing up to hear his introduction.
“Fuma, 23 years old,” Fuma said, his voice deeper than expected. Kei’s age.
From the corner of his eye, Kei saw the producer gesticulate wildly but he didn’t even need the cue. “My friend!”, he yelled and nodded exaggeratedly while the others around him broke out in applause and admiring Oohs.
Fuma smiled a little wider, letting his gaze wander over the two rows of trainees. A part of Kei had hoped for a larger reaction. Perhaps for a flicker of recognition at the first unique words Kei directed at Fuma. But just because he liked the look of the other man, just because there was a flutter in his chest from someone his age joining their challenge didn’t mean they were soulmates.
Fuma had smoothly pinned on his nametag even before sitting down, bowing to the back row and Hayate next to him. Two seats over, the guy called Yuma was leaning forward, couldn’t reach Fuma but called for him.
“Fuma-kun!” and Fuma looked back, already laughing and stretching out his arm to catch Yuma’s hand and give it a squeeze.
Before he could turn completely back around, Kei touched the back of his left shoulder, briefly noting the shift of muscle underneath his fingers. Suddenly and for the first time, Fuma’s big eyes were focused solely on him.
“Which one of us was born first? I’m from October,” Kei said over the rush of blood in his ears.
“Ah,” Fuma gave him a lopsided smile. “Sorry, I was actually born in ’98.”
“Ah.” Kei drew his hand back and hoped his smile reached his eyes. He couldn’t help himself. He’d asked the question to receive a specific answer. The words that had appeared above his right elbow when he’d turned 19. You first.
The words were in Japanese.
Kei left for America first, and then Korea. And here he was still, but his new members would be Japanese. It had seemed like fate. He decided to stop running. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was where he would find someone sharing a dream, their fate, his life even, if the other wanted.
He wouldn’t have minded if it was Fuma, whose eyes still seemed to pull Kei in. “I’ll call you Kei-hyung then,” he said with another calm smile directed his way before turning around to welcome the next trainee.
They had a hard time calming Taki down that night. When they shared their impressions of the others among the four of them, Kei listened a little more closely when they talked about Fuma.
“I like Maki,” Taki chirped. “And Jo-kun is so good at basketball. Oh!” He nudged Euijoo. “Wasn’t Fuma-kun really good at the Pokémon impression?”
Kei grinned. The gap between his mature calmness and his obvious fan spirit had endeared Fuma even more to Kei.
Euijoo smiled with a nod and looked at Kei. “Isn’t it cool to have someone older there?”
Nicholas snorted and got hit over the head by Euijoo. He tuned out Nicholas’ complaints and continued: “And he seems really nice.”
Kei nodded seriously. “Yeah, that is actually reassuring,” he admitted. “I almost thought-” He caught himself rubbing his elbow and quickly shut up. But Euijoo’s eyes had already dropped down, followed by Nicholas.
Taki was chattering away about Yuma now. When he had finally exhausted himself and slept tightly tucked in, Nicholas pulled Kei outside, Euijoo hovering in the doorway of the second bedroom.
“What was that earlier?”, Nicholas asked and pointed his chin to Kei’s soul mark. They all knew it, paying special attention when Kei met someone new, a little more apprehensive with every passing year.
But Kei shook his head. “Just got ahead of myself, I guess.”
“He is pretty fine, not gonna lie.” Nicholas smirked. “You can still get to know him.”
Kei raised an eyebrow at him but nodded with a sigh.
“And you don’t have to be soulmates to get closer to him,” Euijoo suggested.
“Oh please,” Kei scoffed. “Fans barely accept fated relationships, and some even dare to put their opinion above destiny. Any other relationship is the ultimate form of betrayal.”
“We said get closer, not date,” Nicholas grumbled and pulled his arm off Kei’s shoulder.
Kei sighed once more, brushing his hair back. “Sorry, guys, let’s just drop it.” He gave them a lopsided smile, unhappy to be the cause of the worry in their faces but truthfully too bummed to hide his own disappointment.
“Sleep well. Let’s find our new team, starting tomorrow!”, he tried to put some cheer in his voice. Euijoo and Nicholas smiled at him, and Euijoo briefly touched his arm when they retreated to their bedroom.
For the first time, Kei didn’t only feel pride and joy seeing Nicholas’ hand land on the small of Euijoo’s back before their door closed.
The chance to get closer came soon. All contestants would move rooms after the first round was completed. “You can choose first, hyungs,” Yejun offered, always mindful of their seniority.
Kei waved him off. “We’ll place our bets just like you,” he said and raised his fist for the game of rock-paper-scissors. “Right, Fuma-kun?”
He almost burst out laughing when Fuma blinked at him with a blank face, obviously not convinced of his noble suggestion. “Alright,” the other eventually said and also raised his hand.
They lost. Dramatically.
“Well,” Kei said and dropped his bag. The room was pretty much full now, not really a room at all but more of a walk-in closet. All it contained was a single bed to share, and a small dresser. At least it had a window.
He turned to Fuma, who was standing stock still in the doorway. Then Fuma deflated. “Well indeed,” he mumbled.
“Everyone is sharing,” Kei hurried to explain. “I heard Nicholas, Euijoo and Jo are in one double in the other dorm.”
Fuma’s smile came out a little lopsided. “We won’t be here much anyway,” he shrugged.
Kei nodded quickly. He felt childish to be secretly excited about this less than ideal sleeping situation, and even more childish to be disappointed Fuma didn’t seem to feel the same.
Sure enough, Fuma lingered around the living room in the evening. But Hayate, Gaku and Minhyung had already set up camp there, on the sofas and a futon they had found somewhere. Kei watched for a moment before leaving for their room. On the way out, he briefly touched Fuma’s left shoulder.
Fuma flinched and looked at him with wide eyes. “I’m going to bed,” Kei simply said.
He lay awake until he heard someone shuffle in and felt the mattress dip. Then it was just as quiet as if he was still alone.
When Kei woke up, he briefly thought Fuma had already left, there was so much space next to him. But Fuma had only pressed himself close to the edge, barely taking up a quarter of the bed.
His breathing was a little too shallow to be natural sleep. Kei observed this for a week, and nothing changed. When he caught him asleep but half out of bed one morning, he decided he could no longer tolerate it.
They had joined breakfast in the other dorm when he brought it up. “Fuma-kun,” Kei casually dropped between bites. “I don’t bite, you know. It’s your bed, too.”
Jo and Euijoo were also at the table, but when Fuma looked around before answering, they were in a lively discussion about onigiri. “I’m okay. I normally sleep like this,” Fuma responded.
“Only half of you was even on the mattress this morning,” Kei scoffed and lowered his chopsticks. From the corner of his eye, he could see Euijoo glance over.
“Only my leg was on the floor,” Fuma muttered, and Kei saw Euijoo grin the way he did when he knew he was winning an argument.
“Which is normal?”, Kei glared at him and Fuma remained silent. “You use one half of the bed. Alright?”
Fuma nodded curtly and lay on his back that night, still too close to the edge for Kei’s liking but better than before.
One morning, Kei woke up rested and content, hugging his blanket as usual. He froze. His blanket was firmer than usual and certainly warmer than usual.
His eyes flew open. He was clinging to Fuma’s arm. Fuma gave him a tiny smile when they met eyes and Kei almost rolled out of bed backwards in his haste to retreat. He was only thankful that he hadn’t tucked Fuma’s arm between his thighs like he would with his blanket.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out and Fuma huffed a laugh. “It’s okay,” he murmured softly in his low voice. He didn’t look bothered, but Kei knew this couldn’t happen again. He had liked the feeling too much.
Still, he had to make sure. “You’re not going to go back to your corner, right?”
Now Fuma was actually giggling. “I won’t,” he confirmed.
“It won’t happen again,” Kei affirmed once more.
Fuma just nodded with the same tiny smile and said nothing.
Kei didn’t even feel bad whining to Euijoo and Nicholas. Taki and he had braved through two months of tense silence with them, after Nicholas’ 19th birthday, when he’d started wearing hoodies in summer and only showered alone. Euijoo had drawn back into himself, more anxious for his own birthday every day.
But the clock had struck midnight eventually, and Nicholas had sat on his bed with a stony expression. He’d reached for Euijoo’s shirt. Euijoo rolled on his side, throwing an arm over his glassy eyes.
Cold fingers touched the dip of his waist and Euijoo held his breath. Nothing for the longest ten seconds of his life. Then he could hear Nicholas sniffle and looked back over his shoulder with a devastated expression.
But there Nicholas was, wiping at his eyes furiously, staring directly at Euijoo’s naked waist. He was smiling.
Euijoo had grabbed his wrist, twisting to get a look. I think you are connected to me. Korean written like Chinese characters. A grammar mistake. Nicholas had been trying to say mine. His bluetooth speaker, connected to Euijoo’s phone.
Kei and Taki had startled when they heard a crash in the room next to them. They met eyes and hurried over, only to find Euijoo wrestling a laughing Nicholas out of his shirt on the floor.
“What are you doing?”, Kei had hissed and quickly closed the door so their temporary manager in the living room wouldn’t wake up.
Euijoo pulled and pushed at Nicholas until he could see the space between his shoulder blades, the spot he’d touched in their awkward half-hug after exchanging greetings for the sixth time of about fifteen.
Is it you? In blocky Korean. Sort of incoherent only because of Euijoo’s nerves, facing the fierce eyes of the trainee he’d been kind of trying to avoid for months.
Euijoo froze while Taki started bouncing next to Kei, grasping the situation. Nicholas had rolled back, looking up at Euijoo with teary eyes and the brightest smile.
When the first tear fell from Euijoo’s eyes and Nicholas raised his arm to wipe it off, Kei grabbed Taki by the shoulders and steered him out of the bedroom.
So yeah, they could deal with Kei complaining a little bit.
“It just doesn’t make sense,” he whined. They were in some kind of guest house for the night, after filming at the beach all day, sharing food, and secrets, and tears. This also meant that Fuma and he were not sharing their bed.
Kei had asked Euijoo and Nicholas to explain for the umpteenth time what having a soulmate felt like for them. He knew it was different for everyone, but what else would it be that he felt for Fuma. “We just – we match,” he continued.
“It’s the age gap,” Nicholas offered, twisting to avoid being knuckled over the head by Euijoo. Kei’s glare, however, stung more.
“You miss him already?”, Euijoo asked gently.
Earlier, Fuma had come over and something like hope stirred in Kei’s chest. When they drew different lots for their room arrangements, he couldn’t catch his eye. But Fuma only brought back the jacket Kei had lent him when he got cold playing outside.
“Sleep well,” Fuma had wished him with the tiny smile Kei had decided was only for him.
“I do,” Kei admitted quietly to his two team members.
Nicholas threw an arm around him in consolation.
Kei sighed. Certainly their similar age also played a role. Fuma had almost as much life experience as him and certainly more in the industry they aimed to work in. Among all of them, only Yuma and Maki could rival him.
They shared their passion. They respected and admired each other. Their vision complemented each other. They matched in these respects.
But that wasn’t all. Fuma made Kei feel at ease. Kei believed in the universe, that was the whole problem. Fuma made him feel right, but it was all wrong that he wasn’t his soulmate.
Another night, back in their dorm, Kei whispered into the darkness: “Fuma-kun.” No response. “Are you asleep?”
“Hmhmh,” Fuma hummed back a negative. They had always gone to bed silent these past few weeks, all words suddenly lost as soon as they stepped into their small room, even when they had been engaged in conversation before.
“How is it going?”
Fuma hummed again. “The team?”
Kei nodded and turned on his side to look at Fuma, hoping he would feel the confirmation.
“They’re fine. They work very hard,” Fuma murmured. Kei could see that his eyes were already closed. “But they’re so young.”
Kei couldn’t help but snort and thought he saw the corner of Fuma’s mouth twitch. “They probably rely on you a lot.”
“Yeah. I speak Korean with them basically all the time,” Fuma answered. He snuggled a bit deeper into his blanket. Thank God they had two because that looked much too warm for Kei’s liking. But it was cute. “It’s hard,” Fuma suddenly added quietly.
Kei remembered how hard it had been for him, both to speak Korean and to belong to the few who did not speak the others’ language. He leaned forward and put his forehead against Fuma’s shoulder. It was warm. “You’re doing great,” he mumbled.
His head was jolted lightly when Fuma shrugged but he didn’t move away.
“Kei-kun.”
Kei looked up at Yuma, the only one who hadn’t adopted the Korean suffix yet. But Yuma was looking across the room. “Euijoo-kun and Nicholas-kun are soulmates, aren’t they.” It wasn’t really a question.
The two were sitting opposite each other at the other end of the dance studio. “Yup,” Kei answered briefly.
“That makes a lot of sense,” Yuma wondered aloud.
Kei nodded. “They do make a lot of sense.”
“Do you think it is good to know so early?”, Yuma continued to ask and sat down next to Kei.
“I’m not sure,” Kei stalled. “I guess it is part of the bond whether they will know early or not, and whether that is good or not.”
Yuma nodded and suddenly turned his cat eyes on Kei. “What about you? Do you know? Do you want to?”
“Woah,” Kei huffed a laugh. “That’s a lot of questions.” Questions he didn’t intend to answer. Unfortunately for him, Fuma was also stretching with Jo in Euijoo and Nicholas’ corner, so his thoughts had already strayed there.
He shook his head lightly and turned to Yuma. “How about you? You haven’t turned 19 yet, right?”
Yuma grinned and shook his head. “I’m in no hurry.”
The last two weeks of the show went by in a blur. Kei put all his energy, every waking minute in preparing to put on the best performances. To give every single contestant the same chance. His only respite from practicing was – against all expectation – climbing into a single bed with Fuma at night.
The other had lost none of his concern for Kei but some of his reservation. They slept back to back – it was the only way Kei could trust he wouldn’t end up clinging to him again – and sometimes Kei could feel Fuma brush against him during the night. Feeling the other, hearing his breath calmed him and allowed him a few hours of rest.
A few days before the final, Fuma and Kei went out to eat, just the two of them.
“I want to debut with you, Kei-hyung,” Fuma had suddenly said over his bowl of rice. They’d been lost in thought when he spoke up.
Kei looked at him with wide eyes. You will. You have to. I want you to. I need- the words were stuck in his throat.
Fuma talked with confidence, performed precisely and powerfully yet light on his feet, and sang clear as still water. He was funny and competent and seemed to take care of the other contestants with ease. He was fit, and handsome, and sometimes he simply looked pretty. Especially now that his hair was growing and framing his doll-like features.
Kei knew all this. He had listed the points in his head. Weighed them against others. And even when all that checked out, Kei knew from experience that you could not rely on reason in these shows.
And a fatal flaw in his vision was that no one outside their production could see everything he saw. How little Fuma appeared in their show worried Kei. But he also knew how many fans liked him. How could they not? For some strange reason, Kei himself felt proud of it.
“Just saying,” Fuma smiled apologetically, as if he could tell that Kei couldn’t bring himself to promise anything.
Kei was beyond caring now that fate hadn’t given him Fuma. He had already fallen into him, enjoyed his company too much to retreat, to regret. Fuma turned back to his food, silent again. Kei picked the plumpest piece on his plate and laid it on top of Fuma’s rice.
“Do your best,” he mumbled, hearing it fall flat. Fuma’s face was downcast – Kei couldn’t tell whether he was really seeing the clench of his jaw, the quick blinking of his eyes.
He pressed close that night and Fuma didn’t move away. Kei wondered whether they dreamt the same.
There had been fewer tears in his dream. Kei’s heart soared when he saw Fuma in the middle of the other members, just announced as their final one. He caught him in his arms, feeling him shake and cry on his shoulder, and felt complete.
For the first time in a while after the final recording, Fuma and Kei could squeeze in gym time again. They had been plenty busy moving into their dorms, shooting video content, recording, preparing for their debut, rehearsing, giving interviews, taking photos, fitting clothes.
Kei still felt hot after the shower. They had both been pushing hard, as if trying to make up for the times they hadn’t managed to go. Fuma was changing clothes quietly just behind him, and Kei caught himself glancing over.
Fuma had his back to him, which is why Kei didn’t look away immediately. It was unusual. Fuma never showed his back when they had to change, and Kei had always assumed it was some sort of paranoia. He’d been in enough locker rooms to know it wasn’t entirely unfounded. You never knew what jokester would strike with a wet towel.
But it wasn’t the only reason Kei’s eyes lingered. There were clear, black marks on Fuma’s left shoulder. MY FRIEND. Kei recognized his own messy alphabet.
He reached out without thinking, a dizzying rush overwhelming his mind. “My friend?”, he read. Fuma stilled even before Kei’s fingertips brushed his skin.
“Fuma?”, Kei choked out. “What is this?”
Fuma only briefly glanced over his shoulder. “You know what,” he mumbled.
Kei pulled at his shoulder to turn him around. He was being rough, but he couldn’t help himself. Fuma seemed unfazed anyway, but he wouldn’t meet Kei’s eyes.
“But,” Kei stammered. “My mark. They’re not your first words to me.”
A sudden feeling of terror washed over him. “Are we- are we star-crossed?”, he whispered.
Fuma violently shook his head, as if the thought alone pained him as well. “That recording wasn’t the first time we met,” he mumbled, eyes still downcast. “It was in the elevator at the company.”
Kei could hardly follow what he was saying, still trying to catch up with everything that unraveled before him.
“You seemed like you were in a rush, so I told you to get off first. I must have brushed your elbow when I let you slip past,” Fuma explained.
“I don’t remember,” Kei whispered, suddenly angry and disappointed with himself. “I didn’t even notice.”
Fuma shook his head. “I wasn’t sure whether these words were enough. I knew when you spoke to me first. But I was hoping you would recognize me when I answered your first question.”
Kei remembered how foolish he had felt then, fishing for an answer that might bind them together. And that was way before they were close, way before he fell for him, only a shallow attraction sparking his want.
“It was all confirmed when I saw your arm.” Fuma’s large hand closed around Kei’s elbow, his fingers pressing into the words he’d said to him. Kei felt a warm tingle at the spot.
Even though they were a common phrase, Kei thought he understood why the words counted. It was Fuma’s general attitude toward Kei. He came first.
Still, Kei felt anger turn in his chest. “And you just, all these weeks, you,” he couldn’t put into words what he felt, “you fooled me, you left me in the dark.”
“I didn’t,” Fuma insisted. “I wanted you to notice.”
“Oh well,” Kei scoffed. “Could have been a bit clearer on that one.”
“How could I tell you?”, Fuma’s voice grew louder, and he finally looked at him. “When I didn’t even know whether I could stay by your side?”
Of course Kei had feared the same, soulmates or not. But if Fuma said this – Kei suddenly deflated, anger leaving behind only despair.
Kei grabbed Fuma’s forearm. “You would have just left without saying anything and suffered with that knowledge alone.” Fuma didn’t answer but his face told Kei everything. He held onto him more tightly. “Fuma, you can’t.”
“I don’t have to, now,” Fuma mumbled and covered Kei’s hand with his own.
“I still mean it. I knew it,” Kei shifted closer. “I just felt something. I was so confused the entire time.”
Fuma raised his other hand to Kei’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”
Kei shook his head, nuzzling into his palm. “I’m just so glad it is you.” He pressed his lips to Fuma’s pulse. “You cannot leave me now.”
Something shifted in Fuma’s eyes. He bodily pushed Kei against the wall of lockers and Kei quickly let go of his arm to close that little remaining space between them, looping his arm around Fuma’s neck instead.
The air was no longer charged with anger but all kinds of other emotions bubbling up between them. What Kei had not allowed himself to feel for the other, feeling wrong for even entertaining these emotions he was supposed to feel for his soulmate, and what Fuma had suppressed all this time, to make it easier for Kei even if it made being around his soulmate almost unbearable for himself.
But first and foremost, Kei felt powerful, assured, invincible – it was Fuma all along. He wasn’t wrong for loving him.
“I’m really sorry,” Fuma breathed against his lips. “But you should know that it was really hard for me as well.” His eyes traced over Kei’s face before meeting his eyes again. His hand slipped down Kei’s side and to his hip.
“Being so close to you every day and having to hold back,” Fuma’s mouth dragged along Kei’s jaw. “Knowing you belong to me,” he continued in a whisper.
Kei’s head fell back against the locker, when he exhaled shakily and pulled Fuma into his neck. He started dropping the softest kisses below his ear and down to his collarbone, leaving behind goosebumps.
Kei’s hands ghosted over Fuma’s torso, feeling his bare skin under his fingertips. Fuma sighed against him, open mouth closing around Kei’s adam’s apple.
Before he could continue, Kei quickly flipped them and turned Fuma around. He marveled at the mark on his shoulder, trailing his fingers over the sensitive spot. Then he leaned down and pressed wet kisses to Fuma’s hot skin. Fuma dropped his forehead against the wall with a sigh, reaching behind himself to pull Kei flush to his back.
Kei hugged his middle and attached his lips to Fuma’s neck, starting to suck marks onto his skin. He felt Fuma shaking against him and suddenly heard his sweet giggling.
He hooked his chin over Fuma’s shoulder. “What?”, he whispered against his ear.
Fuma shook his head, shuddering. “I just noticed,” Fuma murmured and craned his neck to give Kei easier access. “We haven’t kissed yet.”
Kei stilled. “I also noticed something.” Fuma looked back over his shoulder. “We should really get out of this changing room.”
Kei suddenly missed their tiny broom closet. They only got lucky that Kei’s shared room was empty because Yuma had a skincare appointment. And Kei’s bed was still the same single. It suddenly felt like the entire world to him, like all they needed.
Fuma was now leaned back against the headboard, and no one could have told that they had been making out heavily just minutes ago. Kei traced slow circles on Fuma’s chest, just where he knew some hickeys were blooming.
Fuma suddenly snorted. “Hm?”, Kei hummed and cuddled closer.
“I just remembered Yuma knows.”
“What?”, Kei exclaimed and almost knocked into Fuma’s chin when he raised his head. “How?”
“He saw my mark before we even knew each other,” Fuma explained and hugged Kei close. “And he clocked it eventually.”
“Oh my God,” Kei buried his face in Fuma’s chest. “He totally grilled me about soulmates once.”
Fuma stayed quiet. For so long that Kei looked up. Fuma was staring straight ahead.
“Fuma,” Kei drawled, and a carefully blank expression appeared on Fuma’s face. “Why do you think he did that, Fuma?”
Fuma shook his head, barely noticeably. He was avoiding Kei’s eyes so he couldn’t see the grin spread nor his plan show on his face. He only knew when Kei’s fingers dug into his sides.