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Sion thinks he has always looked up to Jisung.
If you were to ask him to think about the day Jisung entered his orbit, he wouldn’t be able to recall it. It was as if he was always there. A lingering constant, a lasting goal, a perfect wish.
In reality, it was probably more like this: Sion remembers watching NCT Dream’s debut music video with his friends one day. Bright eyed and bored, he’d glance at the small phone screen set up on the desk. He watched as Jisung, with his curly hair and baby face hardly different from Sion’s own, dressed in shorts and a shirt that made him look impossibly cute, danced to the bubbly rhythm of Chewing Gum. Jisung, who in another world could be sitting next to Sion in his middle school classroom, watching as he daydreamed out the window. Jisung, whose body moved with a fluidity impossible to comprehend in Sion’s 14 year old mind, who gave Sion an overwhelming want to dance, to sing and to perform.
The same Jisung who made Sion audition for SM Entertainment without his parent’s permission the minute he turned 16, alone in Seoul 4 hours from home with nothing but nerves and a burning desire for something that he couldn’t quite place.
He hadn’t realised what it was at the time, but now it was clear:
Recognition. He wanted to be known. To stand up on a stage, like the videos he always watched in dead of night, listening to the sounds of an audience cheering him on. To be known was to be loved, to be loved was to be desired and perhaps Jisung would finally desire him in the way Sion craved when he watched his performances over and over and over again.
He’d liked to think that this depraved yearning for fame played no part in Sion going down this path, that his dedication was driven by pure passion and nothing else. But Sion hated lying, even to himself. He didn’t want it, he needed it. To be on the same level as Jisung. To stand next to him and feel like he belonged. To be able to look himself in the eyes in the mirror and believe himself when he says: I made it.
Sion’s mom mentioned it once in passing, when he was back home for a short summer break. Back then, he used to talk about Jisung often. A childish admiration that showed itself in excited chatter during a long car ride, an exclamation over dinner, in the posters stuck on the inside of his cupboard where nobody but him could see.
“Sion-ah.” She had said softly, while passing him some more food across the table. “Do most kids your age talk like this all the time?”
It had struck the tense chords strung between his heart and his mind, leaving his ears ringing and mind reeling.
“I guess not.” He had replied solemnly, eyes far too focused on the plate in front of him to be anything but avoidant.
“I would’ve thought they would be more excited about soulmates. Or university. Just… something more conventional.” She had pondered. “But do what makes you happy, okay?”
It ended like that, sudden and short-lived. But it had stuck with him, shrouding him in a shame that he never could quite shake. Sion made sure to never mention Jisung to her again after that.
Being put in NCT Wish was the closest he had ever been to this fantasy that was always lingering in his mind. Somedays, Sion felt on top of the world. To be able to call himself an NCT member, to practice and train just a breadth away from his seniors. Other days, it was hard. Harder than it should've been, even with such a privileged name to back him and his members up.
Now, when Sion looked at himself his face was almost unrecognisable. He stretched to fill this role that was given to him, eyes red and worn from tears shed in private and sleepless nights. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for the opportunity to debut, especially after 5 long years of arduous training. It was just that some days the only thought lingering in his mind was: Why me?
On the nights where he couldn’t sleep, despite being so exhausted that moving even his fingers became an ordeal, he watched Jisung’s fancams like a dirty secret in the dark. Comparison wasn’t something Sion often dwelled in, but with Jisung it was impossible not to. He wanted to be as good as him someday, and NCT Wish would be his ticket.
So Sion kept his head down, working tirelessly and eating little and loving his members more than he loved himself, fueled by a hope that one day he would reach the level of perfection his 14 year-old self had dreamed of.
Life had been so busy since Jisung was barely old enough to think for himself - it was to the point that the idea of his soulmate had always failed to cross his mind. Some days, he forgot about their existence entirely, only remembering when Jaemin said something so disgustingly sweet to Jeno over dinner it almost made him gag on his food.
Everytime he turned his head away, ignoring the way it made his heart stutter. Like clockwork, his eyes would slowly move from watching his spoon down to his wrist, the black ink of a star poking out from his sleeve. It was so small that it could be passed off as a pen mark. Maybe it was drawn on his arm by his friend during a boring passing period. Perhaps by a cute boy as they worked on a group project together in the library, giggling while penning doodles in each other's skin.
Thoughts like that only made Jisung spiral, and so it was best to avoid them all together. He’d look back up from his rest and towards the rest of the members, muttering something about getting lost in his head again. They’d laugh at him, teasing their youngest and pinching his cheeks like he was still 14 and not 22.
Everytime he thought about the what ifs of his life, the more it felt like his passion came into question. What if he had never joined the company, was never scouted and never convinced to audition by his overbearing mother? What if he had control over his own meals, had come back to a home-cooked meal everyday and not pathetic leftovers carefully portioned by his managers left in the fridge? What if his life was suddenly his own again?
It was a dangerous rabbit hole that Jisung liked to throw himself down regardless. Maybe, he’d even have met his soulmate for now if it wasn’t for the company and their stupid fucking rules, or his never-ending schedules and lackluster school attendance.
They were foolish, the scenarios Jisung made up. Even if he were to find his soulmate, it wasn’t like they could be together, right? He wasn’t Jaemin, with a blinding smile and stubbornness that could sway even the scariest of higher ups. He wasn’t sweet Jeno, so shy and endearing he could get away with anything.
He didn’t have the charisma to convince the managers to let a relationship slide, so it was absurd to entertain the idea. Jisung’s soulmate was nothing but an afterthought shoved to the back of his mind, only appearing at the most inconvenient of times like a bad taste in his mouth.
The Wish members collapsed into an exhausted puppy pile on the sticky practice room floor, like they always did after a long day of work. A tangle of limbs they were too tired to move, of sweat slick hair and baggy clothes and thumping hearts. Riku usually clinging to someone uncomfortably tight, Ryo sinking his head into Sakuya’s neck, Jaehee staring at the ceiling and Yushi lying on his side with a hand on his face.
Sion would always be the first to get up. He never wanted to, always preferring to bask in the warmth his members brought for a little while longer. But it was his job as a leader, and he was nothing if not dutiful. Dragging the younger ones by the hand and loading them all into the van, making sure everyone made it home safely.
It was funny, he thought, as he felt the warmth of the shower pour over his skin. Somedays, idol life felt more like glorified babysitting. He loved his members, of course, more than he could ever say. They were his fallback, a never ending stream of love and skinship that made even the worst of days bearable. A kiss on the cheek from Sakuya, a hug from Ryo, a meal cooked by Jaehee — it was what kept his fire burning.
Though, sometimes it all became too much. Wrangling 5 boys that always seemed to slip between his fingers. Trying to keep his frustration from boiling over, to keep his demeanor a constant calm. Nothing good would come from letting the ugly feelings slip. So much was bubbling beneath the surface that if Sion let the lid come off, he feared his feelings would just keep coming out.
About how much he hoped, how much he wanted.
At his core, Sion was a greedy person. Always hungry for the next opportunity, grasping at anything to further his career. He could see the tiredness between the Wish member’s eyes, fuck he could even feel it himself in the way his limbs seemed to lag behind his brain. But everything the company gave them was a chance — one to get themselves out there, to prove something to someone somewhere. He had such an insatiable appetite for new things that he sometimes lost sight of himself.
It was such an ugly side of himself. It was shameful. He was supposed to be modest. Taking things in stride, never reaching outside of the box the company had made for him. Lead with just enough desire, not too little or too much.
But sometimes he just couldn’t help it. He was always looking for the next achievement to obtain, the next goal to surpass. Although, all of them seemed to lead back to Park Jisung.
Sion let his head fall against the tile of the shower, trying to shake the thoughts of Jisung’s face from his mind. It was stupid, how much he thought about someone he didn’t even know. Even though they were under the same company, the same production team, the same group, he was still so far out of his league that Sion couldn’t even think of reaching him.
Sion’s cheeks flushed, feeling funny against the cold shower wall. He giggled stupidly, shoving his head against the wall a few times. Perhaps he was a little love-struck. His head hurt. He couldn’t get Jisung out of his mind. It was so stupid, embarrassing, so humiliating it made Sion’s stomach tie itself into knots and ache infinitely.
What would he even do if he saw him in person? The thought made his head throb even harder, sending his flush further down his face and neck until his entire body burned with a sick desire. His hand lingered hesitantly near his dick. He felt so shameful as he gripped it and began to rub himself lightly, just bordering on the edge of pleasure.
He didn’t deserve the release.
The water at his feet was cold by the time he was finished. The sound of chatter on the other side of the thin wall had died down and his hands were pruney and soft. Sion didn’t know how long he’d spent in his own thoughts. Only that the kitchen was empty once he dried himself off and got changed, Riku fast asleep when he went to climb into bed.
His cheeks still felt warm against the cold pillow he threw his head against.
Maybe Sion was just someone who always yearned for things he could never have. Touching himself in secret to the thoughts of someone he had never met – someone who would never belong to him.
NCT Wish was a name that felt foreign on Jisung’s tongue. Wish, the syllables would slide around in his mouth as he tried to pull them together. Though, the more he thought about it, it was actually a little familiar. A dream was to wish for something after all. Nostalgic, maybe, reminding him of the way they used to introduce themselves when they first debuted. It had the same feeling to it, but it was different nonetheless.
Regardless, the name was unsettling to Jisung. Learning of a new unit should’ve been more eventful than this, at least more eventful than Haechan letting it slip one day in a casual conversation like it was nothing at all.
“You remember Johnny and I went on that show, Jisung-ah?” He had asked nonchalantly, turned away from Jisung in the green room, choosing a snack from the large array laid out for them.
Jisung had just hummed in agreement, occupied by a mouthful of rice and tuna.
“They finally have a song for the new unit, I heard it when I was passing by the recording room the other day.” Haechan had turned back around and plopped himself next to Jisung, focused on opening the bag of chips he had picked out.
Jisung, however, had frozen. Mouth still full of rice, he gulped it down, trying to ignore the way his stomach had dropped. The way his skin tingles and how he felt goosebumps forming, prickling against the leather jacket thrown over his shoulders.
It was silly, to be shocked. It was only a matter of time, right? NCT was ever expanding — Jisung knew that. He knew that more than anyone, back when Mark graduated and the idea of being alone wasn’t a fear but a tangible horizon. When he thought his hyungs would leave him one by one until it was just him and people he barely knew trying to replicate what they once had. But a new group entirely?
“New unit?” He asked timidly, trying to hide the way his movements had slowed and his eating had stopped.
“Yep!” Haechan beamed, “NCT Wish, I think. They’re young, kind of like us when we debuted, no?” He shoved his shoulder against Jisung’s playfully, oblivious to the way Jisung had stiffened beside him.
“Yeah.. I guess so.” He lied. He didn’t even know how old these new members were, or who they were. But now he wanted, needed to know. A cynical kind of curiosity.
It shouldn’t scare him this much, the idea of new members. He should be happy, excited, even. He shouldn’t feel this burning jealousy that left him feeling lightheaded with a pit in his stomach.
Jisung Bit his lip, resting the bowl of rice on the table. Was it jealousy? Or was it the way he wished he could go back to when he was 14, and do things all over again? Spend more time going to school, making friends his age. Perhaps he’d experience his first love, not spending his days sweating in the SM practice rooms until he was dry heaving from exhaustion. Have his first kiss with someone that wasn’t Chenle, kiss someone somewhere other than the darkness of the cleaning cupboard at the first dorm Dream shared together.
Maybe he’d even have a chance to find his soulmate.
“Their oldest member is the same age as you, you know.” Haechan startled Jisung once again, throwing an arm around his shoulder casually. “His name is Sion.”
“Oh. That’s cool, I guess.” Jisung replied unenthusiastically. He needed to get it together. The feeling in his stomach was weird, practically choking him. Maybe he was an awful person for feeling this envy, resenting kids he’d never met, who probably felt just as awkward about this as him.
“You should show some more enthusiasm Jisungie! Maybe you’ll even make a friend your age, for once.” Haechan giggled before pulling away. His tone was sweet and teasing, like it always was. But to Jisung, it sounded a little mocking. Maybe, said like it wasn’t even a possibility to consider.
Sure, he had idol acquaintances. People he’d met here and there, exchanged numbers with whom he had never contacted again. But there was nobody he held close enough to his heart to consider a friend. It was a little pathetic, if Jisung was being honest.
(If he was being really honest, it was nobody's fault but his own. There was an awkwardness that lingered in the air anytime he tried to reach out to other people, so tangible that he eventually stopped trying.)
Jisung tried to shake the unsettled feeling, finishing his food quickly. The awkwardness would pass with these new members, as it always did in NCT. This wasn’t something he had to worry about, with so much on his plate. As long as Jisung kept this weird part of himself quiet, there would never be a problem, right?
Funnily enough, it would be Sion that Jisung ran into just a day later.
The other Dream members had left the company as soon as the clock hit 10pm. Chenle heading back to his apartment, Jaemin inviting Jeno over for a meal, Renjun and Haechan heading out hot pot as they always did on a Friday.
It had been a long practice, longer than normal. Jisung was fucking exhausted, and yet—
He had opted to stay late, working on some lyrics for their next album. Though, it had ended up being rather unproductive, with him biting his pen until he could taste the plastic on his tongue, sitting cross-legged on the studio couch with his back aching and head full of nothing but static. Writing lyrics was always difficult, but more so when it felt like his brain was stuffed with cotton.
He finally gave up just past midnight, when footsteps outside the locked door had slowed into silence and the city skyline was visible from the window whose curtains Jisung had neglected to close. He packed his stuff quickly, fumbling with his backpack as he unlocked the door and adjusted to the low lighting of the corridor.
Jisung began walking towards the exit, looking down at his bag as he struggled to close the last zip. In his tiredness, he didn’t notice the boy approaching him, didn’t notice his own feet tangling, didn’t see the way a shoulder was steadily moving towards his chest until…
“Fuck!” Jisung stumbled, gripping the body he just collided with by the shoulders, his bag now scattered halfway across the hallway. Jisung swayed on his feet a little, before steadying himself and glancing down at the person now grasped between his hands.
A boy, slightly shorter than him but not by much, dressed in dark sweatpants and a t-shirt and a golden necklace that glimmered under the dim ceiling light they were standing beneath.
He stiffened, the hand that had found its way to Jisung’s waist going rigid in a second. Jisung felt his wrist burn, the sensation similar to the one he had felt a day before, that sick envy that made him feel almost nauseous.
“I’m so sorry!” The person ripped themselves away from Jisung’s touch, as if his hands burned.
“No worries…” Jisung tried to pry beneath the other long hair that sat past his eyes, but nothing came to mind. It was odd, the way his brain yearned to put a name to this person. He’d run into various trainees over the years, most never making even a dent in his conscience. But this one…
“Sion. I’m so sorry, Jisung-nim.” Sion murmured, holding his wrist with such an intense grip that it looked painful.
If this was any other kind of meeting, Jisung would have found him endearingly shy. Now, though, it felt unsettling. In the darkness of the hallway, Jisung could only feel the pit in his stomach growing, with absolutely nothing to show for it. His heart was thumping wildly, but why?
“It’s okay. No need to apologise, I just.. wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you practising late?” He rambled when he was nervous. He needed to stop speaking, but he couldn’t. He just needed to do something, anything, to quell this feeling.
“No… I’m… Just going over some things. I’m sorry for bumping into you.” Sion still couldn’t look him in the eyes, his voice sounded almost choked up. “I need to go, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t—“ Jisung began, but the boy had already run off, leaving Jisung with a hand held out that was just holding Sion upright. His gaze flicked between his hand and the direction Sion had run off in, confusion not coming close to whatever he was feeling now.
It was odd. The uneasiness that was building had suddenly disappeared. But it didn’t leave curiosity, or bewilderment. It didn’t even leave him with a sense of endearment, for running into a cute but awkward junior. In fact, Jisung was feeling absolutely nothing at all.
Picking up his bag, his limbs felt numb. Heading home, his head felt empty, his thoughts finally quiet.
It was only when he was getting ready for bed that Jisung noticed the way the star on his wrist had now turned a pure white. It burned quietly despite his numbness, lulling him into a fitful sleep.
Sion beelined for the bathroom, feeling so dizzy that his vision had become nothing but a blur of colours. He didn’t even risk looking backwards, for fear of falling over again, or even vomiting all over Park Jisung. Park fucking Jisung. It was so surreal, finally seeing him up close. His perfectly chiselled face, eyebrows drawn together in confusion and eyes lidded with a tiredness Sion had never seen through the camera lens.
It was too bad that Sion couldn’t even stop to talk to the older boy, stomach churning so violently that he was now on his knees, bruises making contact with the wet tile as he cradled the toilet bowl. He couldn’t stop himself from getting rid of the few meals he had eaten that day, couldn’t stop the acidic burn in his throat that was making his eyes fill up with tears or the way his wrist seemed to burn from the inside out, making his left hand shake violently even as he gripped the porcelain until his knuckles turned white.
Jisung was so beautiful. Sion couldn’t breathe. Was this normal? Was he normal?
Perhaps it was Sion’s deepest desires finally fucking him over once and for all. He had barely even managed a glance at Jisung, and this was how he was faring. Even in his stupor, he wondered what would’ve happened if he had stayed a little longer. Stared into the other’s eyes for more than a second, taken in the shape of his face a little more than he did. Gripped Jisung’s waist a little tighter, feeling the fabric of his thick winter jacket between his fingers before it too slipped away.
He laughed stupidly, the action sobering him up a little as he felt air enter his lungs once again and his vision starting to clear. Sion could feel tears still running down his cheeks, the tear tracks beginning to sting. He wiped his left eye violently, trying to erase all evidence of his odd moment of weakness. It was stupid, right? This wasn’t normal, to react in such a way. It was then Sion spotted it – the now white star engraved into his left wrist.
He glanced at it, then paused. Rubbed his right eye and pulled his wrist back again. It was still there. He rubbed it with his right thumb, up and down like he did to comfort Yushi sometimes. Turned his wrist away and back again. Still there. Sion smacked his wrist against the toilet seat. Stupid. He grabbed some toilet paper, rubbing the star violently until –
It was still there.
He blinked a few more times. It wasn’t disappearing, and it definitely wasn’t like that before.
All of a sudden, the feeling from before came back. It hit him like waves would hit a cliff, strong and fast and unyielding. His thoughts were filled once again with Jisung, Jisung, Jisung and the retching that suddenly climbed up his throat was so violent his body shook with the force of it. Tears, pooling into the mess below. A force gripping his chest that seemed to shake him back and forth, leaving him quivering. Sion’s shaky hands reached for his phone that had clattered to the ground only minutes earlier, dialing the number of his manager on autopilot.
Sion couldn’t move. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe. Sion also thinks he had just met his soulmate. Park Jisung, who he had grown so fond of over the years, the person who consumed him and drove him to success and also to insanity every night since Sion was 14. That Park Jisung.
He let his now damp forehead fall forward against the porcelain he was just gripping, using everything in him to stop himself from smacking his head against it over and over and over again.
It began like that, just a few weeks ago. Weeks so unbearable it had felt like a year had passed, Sion barely remembering the feeling of apathy. What it was like to be in control of his emotions. To be able to stop crying, to take a second to breathe, to be looked at with something other than worry and sympathy.
Now he was here, stuck in a stuff conference room looking more dishevelled than he did after an 8 hour practice.
“Sion-ah, the company wants to put you on a temporary hiatus.” His manager sighed, shuffling the stack of papers in his hands and looking anywhere but Sion’s line of sight. No amount of aversion could change the way his manager's words went in one ear and out the other, Sion’s brain practically refusing to believe it.
“But… this doesn’t mean I have to stop practicing, right? We just debuted. I can’t… I can’t leave the others on their own. I’m the leader, remember?” Sion’s words sounded alright in his mind, but they came out all jumbled, practically nonsensical.
“I–” He tried again, desperately, but this time his voice wouldn’t even come out at all. Before his manager could speak, Sion smacked his fist against the table sharply, the pain of it barely registering anymore. His body had been so on edge the past few days, that even when he spilled boiling water from the kettle on his hand when trying to make tea, he hadn’t realised anything was wrong until Yushi grabbed his hand and the blistered skin peeled off in chunks. Sion would do anything to forget the look on Yushi’s face.
“Sion. This is not negotiable. Have you seen yourself? You’re scaring the members. You’re so violent and angry, seemingly out of the blue. You can’t stop crying. You keep injuring yourself.” The manager sounded disappointed, and God if that didn’t feel like an arrow shot straight through Sion’s heart. He could take anger. He could take resentment, could even deal with the members looking at him like he was something fragile. But disappointment made him burn with shame, his cheeks suddenly flushing bright red. Now he was crying again. Great.
“See.” The manager's voice was a little softer now, and Sion almost wanted to slap the pity out of him. “You’re not okay. I don’t know what happened, but you need to get it together before the company will even think about letting you promote again. Just… take it easy, okay? You’re not being dropped. This is for your own good.”
And it was true – to an extent. (Sion loathes to admit it, but it was to that extent. Far worse, in fact, but that was privy to him and him alone.)
The past few weeks had been worse than anything Sion had ever experienced.
He hadn’t told anyone about the meeting with Jisung. Admitting that would be admitting that there was something actually wrong with him, with his soulbond. His manager had found him, pale and shaking in the company bathroom after he had dialed the first number in his contacts and breathed heavily into the phone. Sion thinks he actually called Riku, who then told the manager, but his contact with the members had been so scarce since then that it was almost insulting to ask.
God – the members. When his manager had taken him home, Yushi and Riku were there. Ever the reliable eldest, who took care of Sion even though he was supposed to take care of them. They bathed him, cooked for him, tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead like the press of lips would take away all his sorrows.
But the tears hadn’t stopped. Sion vaguely remembers Yushi combing his hair the first few days, running his fingers through it like it wasn’t greasy and unwashed, remembers Riku sitting next to him holding his hand tightly and saying:
“Sion, hyung, it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” And Sion wanted to believe him. So, so badly. So much that it was the first thing he’d felt other than an aching and burning desire in days.
But he hadn’t seen them since then. Spending his days in bed, tucked away from the world. The members slowly stopped visiting. Sweet texts of 'Get well soon!’ slipped into one word texts which would inevitably fade into nothingness. Sion wasn’t even allowed to see the youngest members, everyone was too scared that we would break into a thousand pieces with even the slightest of prodding. He could feel their love slipping through his fingers, until it was all but gone.
Sion wanted that back more than anything. More than his feelings, than his life, than his dignity. More than he wanted Jisung, his soulmate. (Sion was lying, of course, but he hadn’t gotten here without the help of a few lies. A couple more wouldn’t hurt, even if just thinking them felt like it was killing him from the inside out, eating at his flesh until he was just skin and bones and a broken soul.)
“Okay. I understand. I’ll pull myself together, I promise. Just…” Sion bit his lip, a deep-rooted shyness showing itself for the first time since the manager had practically dragged him into the conference room. It always bubbled to the surface, when he came up in conversation. “I need to talk to Jisung. I need to… I want to… See him. It’s got nothing to do with this, I promise. It’s just been eating at me for a while. I accidentally ran into him the other day and I was… impolite. Could you get him here for me? Not now, of course! Whenever you have time. Or he has time. I think it might help my conscience a little bit, Hyung-nim.”
“Jisungie?” The manager asked in confusion. Somewhere in between his rambling, Sion had turned on the waterworks again. His eyes were red and swollen from the countless tears shed in the past 48 hours, but more seemed to just keep coming. His voice was trembling, the anger once present now morphing into a morbid kind of acceptance. Turning his stomach upside down once again, gripping his insides and shaking them around and making him queasy.
“Yeah… I know it’s a little odd, but can’t you just do this one thing?” Sion pouted, and okay maybe now he was overdoing it. But it was worth a try, right?
“Sure. I can arrange that. Rest up Sion, we’re all hoping for your recovery.”
Just like that, Sion’s world flipped on its axis for the third time that week.
Jisung couldn’t stop looking at the star. Stark white against his skin, positioned neatly on the inside of his right wrist. So small that if you weren’t looking for it, it was impossible to see. Even his members hadn’t noticed, despite their near constant skinship and doting.
It wasn’t like it had changed shape, or moved positions. There was no reason it should be plaguing him like this. It was the same as it was yesterday, and the day before that.
Jisung wasn’t stupid. Despite his less than good attendance at school, he liked to think that he knew things. And one thing he definitely knew was that a whitened soulmark was indication of one thing — a meeting with your soulmates. He cursed himself under his breath, wondering why he was so careless. So absorbed in his work that he had failed to catch when it happened, when his soulmark had changed.
It could’ve been when he first noticed it, when Sion had let go of his wrist and ran, leaving Jisung staring at it and his mark with nothing short of confusion. But it could’ve easily been before that. Days, weeks, months ago, with him neglecting to notice.
It was impossible to dwell on, to think about all the people he’s ever come into contact with and wonder: Was it them?
Even with bigger things to worry about (His soulmate. The other half of his soul, the person he was destined for, who was supposed to match him so well he would forget what life without them was like; lost in a sea of faces with no hope of being found.), Sion had never left his mind. It was silly, to fixate on something so small. Yet it was like Jisung’s brain craved it. Craved the face he had only seen for a split second, the searing touch on his waist, the mysterious nature if it all.
He had spent the past few days watching any clips he could find. There were few out there, and Jisung thinks he could recite them in his sleep by now. Sion’s sharp jawline, pursed lips, the way his eyebrows seemed to give away every emotion he was feeling, all burned into Jisung’s mind so vividly that he couldn’t escape him even with his eyes closed.
It was weird, but at least it was something to fill the ceaseless emptiness he’d been feeling. Though, it would be more appropriate to call it less of a feeling and more of an unstoppable force. A suit of armour that had been constructed around his heart overnight, clenching tighter and tighter until he was breathless.
Jisung could feel practically nothing at all.
His smiles were forced. His fingers and limbs were numb, movements slowed like his body was made of molasses. His chest felt empty, like someone had carved it out thoughtlessly and taken all feelings with it. Jisung couldn’t tell if it was connected to his soulmate or not. Was he missing them, with nothing but a thought that they were out there and no face to put to this horrible pit of nothingness.
Or was it just an inevitable course of events, the sleepless nights and long days and criticisms piling up until it was just enough to snap Jisung in half, leaving him stranded in a void with nothing to grasp to?
Even the members didn’t seem to move him recently, not in the same way they had before. He had always been a stubborn person, but now his empathy was just as immovable as him. Like when Renjun had started crying over yesterday, blubbering into his food out of the blue.
“I’m sorry… everything’s just been too much recently. I’m sorry.” He had apologised, over and over again.
“Injun-ah, don’t apologise. We’ve got you, okay?” Jaemin had replied, rubbing circles into his shoulder and moving his frozen hand holding his chopsticks down away from the bowl until Renjun dropped the chopsticks and their fingers intertwined.
Any other day, Jisung would’ve probably felt a twinge in his chest. Probably would’ve teared opposite Renjun, lips pouted and face so telling that Haechan couldn’t help but tease him. He was always emotional when it came to his hyungs after all.
Nothing of the sort had happened. Jisung could practically feel their eyes on him, waiting for their youngest to show the emotions he wore so openly on his wrist. It was shameful, when nothing had happened. His eyes were dry, red from tiredness and nothing else. He was shivering, but from the cold air rather than sobs wracking his body.
“Jisung…” Someone had murmured.
“Hmm?” Jisung did his best to sound confused. Whether or not they believed him was irrelevant. He just needed them to forget about it, to ignore it, pretend like nothing was wrong.
“Forget it. Renjun, do you need a minute?” Jeno asked while shaking his head, as if trying to get rid of the tension between the seven of them, the conversation moving on before anyone could say anything more.
The uneasiness in Jisungs stomach never settled though. Each bite got harder to swallow until he eventually placed his chopsticks down quietly, simply observing for the rest of the meal.
“Sion, good news! Our manager found time in Jisung’s schedule for you to meet him.” Riku had opened the door, just a crack. He didn’t bother turning the light on, ever since Jaehee had flicked it on instinctually the week before and it had made his head throb so hard he felt dizzy for the rest of the day. Sion wasn’t proud of the way he’d screamed at him, the pain burning through him and culminating into irritation.
“Oh… thank you.” He’d forgotten about that. (Almost. How could he forget?)
“I know you haven’t gotten up in days, Sion, but he can’t come to you. You’re going to have to… get yourself together. I know it’s hard, but…” Riku sounded almost pleading. Why wasn’t he angry? Why was he so patient with him? Sion thinks he should’ve lost all tolerance long ago. Fuck, even he would’ve. With the way Sion’s become so defiant, so angry, so lost.
“I won’t let you down.” Sion murmured, face still turned into the pillow and groggy from days of disuse.
“It’s not me you’re letting down.” Riku had come into the room now, closing the door behind him. He fumbled around in the dark, moving until he sat on the edge of Sion’s bed, hands grasping the duvet like he was holding in tears.
“We just want the best for you, Sion.” Riku was pushy, but not unkind.
“That’s the problem, Riku-ah. I know you guys are behind me. I know I’m being irrational. I don’t even know what happened, where this all came from.” Sion started, determined to get his point across, “But I can’t help the way things are. I’ll try, I’ll do what manager-nim tells me to. It might not change anything, trying to be normal. Even my willpower doesn’t feel like enough.”
Sion sniffles. Riku reached for his hand, smiling at him sadly, practically expecting the way he’d started crying.
“I’ll try. I promise, I will. I miss you guys. I miss dancing, I miss singing, I miss Sakuya and I miss Ryo and I want to eat with you guys again and everything I’ve become so used to–”
Riku wiped Sion’s tears with his free hand, simply listening.
“I know hyung. We miss you too. Sakuya keeps asking about you. Ryo refuses to talk about it. We, I feel lost without you. Just do this one thing, okay?”
Sion simply nods, continuing to sob into the pillow, trying not to focus on the shameful way his heart ached for someone other than his members.
If Sion thought he’d felt nerves before, they were nothing compared to now.
The way his hands were shaking as he tried to grab the door knob, the ringing in his ears growing even louder as he approached and the tingly feeling of electricity all over his skin.
“Sion, I’m going to leave you here to apologise to Jisung.” Sion could barely hear his manager's voice over the thoughts running wild in his head, and the way his heartbeat pounded in his ears, “I need to run and do something. I’m sorry I can’t stay with you.”
“It’s fine, I understand.” Sion shook his head to reassure him it was okay, praying that the shakiness in his voice was purely a figment of his imagination, “Thank you, hyung.”
“Anytime, Sion. Call me if you need anything.” His manager’s response was curt, dashing off with the blink of an eye.
Fuck. Now he was alone, with nothing but a storm of emotions and anxiety so strong Sion was scared he’d retch again, right there, outside the door.
It was just Jisung. Just the same Jisung who’d caused this whole mess (even though it wasn’t really his fault. If you think about it, it was more like Sions. If he wasn’t so cowardly—), the same Jisung whose posters are up in Sion’s childhood bedroom, who inspired him to dream bigger than the small farm he was raised on, who was the face of Sion’s wet dreams for as long as he could remember.
Sion didn't know if he could bring himself to care about that, after everything. After humiliating himself in front of the older and falling into this mess he couldn’t get himself out of.
It would be fine, right?
Despite his sweaty hands, he pushed the door open with as much force as he could potentially muster. Hopefully, he could hold his tears back, just this once.
Jisung was sitting on a sofa, one leg thrown carelessly over the other, his slender figure easily distinguishable from the Seoul skyline outside the window. He shot up in an instant at the sound of the door.
“Ah… Sion.” He sounded unsure. It was to be expected, after all. He didn’t know Sion, despite the many intimate ways Sion knew him. He was nothing but a new face, a wide-eyed doe coming face to face with a stag.
“Jisung…nim.” He bowed, hoping it was deep enough, quick enough, good enough.
“Come in! Your manager said you wanted to see me?” Jisung awkwardly sat back down on the couch, gesturing for Sion to take a seat on the one opposite.
Sion was so focused on the way Jisung’s lips were pursed, the way his eyes curiously scanned Sion up and down, that he almost missed the way his mind went silent.
It was sudden, just like before, the force so strong it was like a sucker-punch to his stomach. Sion stumbled, wallowing in the way goosebumps had started forming along his arms, his mind suddenly going silent and his feet freezing him in place.
“I—“ Sion opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him, voice ripped violently from his throat. All the lingering doubts, the uneasiness that had been plaguing him – it was all gone.
Sion should’ve been grateful. This was what he wanted, right? Seeing Jisung, seeing his soulmate, again and having everything go back to normal. His mind would no longer haywire, nor would his emotions be frazzled and out of control. Yet there was a troublesome doubt that seemed to chase him. The more he looked at Jisung, the louder it grew, until–
“I’m sorry. I have to go.” Sion barely had time to process the confusion that dawned on the older boy’s face before he was turning on his heels, legs staggering as they moved before his mind did.
His mind was all but gone, focused only on putting one foot in front of the other, not privy to the way he was slowly leering towards the wall, the soft footsteps behind him and the faint yell of Jisung’s voice.
“Sion! Sion-ah!”
The way Jisung addressed him was far too casual. It gripped at something in Sion’s mind, a distant part of him that he’d tucked away these past few weeks. An impossible desire that Sion had hidden between heart, that maybe, just maybe, Jisung wanted to see him too. That this wasn’t just a figment of Sion’s imagination. Perhaps he’d made an imprint on Jisung’s conscience too that day, and it was now showing itself through the way the older called for him so affectionately.
He finally turned around, stopping Jisung in his steps.
“I need to talk to you.” Sion said, matter-of-factly. There was no room for negotiation in his tone.
“Funny. I was going to say the same thing.” Jisung licked his lips, as if out of breath from chasing Sion just a little bit down the hallway. (Sion liked to think he was perceptive. Such a short distance wouldn’t tire Jisung out. Maybe the older was just nervous, like he was.)
“We can’t talk here. Just… Follow me, okay?” Sion tried to stop his voice from wavering. Jisung had to trust him.
“Promise not to run away from me this time?” There was little humour behind the words, and in any other situation Sion thinks he might’ve giggled in response.
“I promise.”
“This is going to sound really odd, and I’m not quite sure how to say this, but—”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Jisung’s voice was quiet, subdued. His hand rested wearily on the wall above Sion’s shoulder, whether to stop him from running away this time or to stop himself from falling over, Jisung didn’t know.
They were in a quiet storage room on the left wing of the building. Sion had said it would be free, and that nobody would follow them there. He’d said something about it being a hideaway spot, where he and his members often went. Jisung wasn’t naive, nor did he trust people easily. But something about the younger man was different, so strikingly unfamiliar that he practically had Jisung hanging off every sentence, his heart laid bare on his sleeve for Sion to see.
But, true to his words, it was empty.
Sion’s lip’s curved into an O shape, impossibly endearing. The subtle flushing of his cheeks made something in Jisung’s stomach twist.
“You… what?”
“I said, I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t know what happened, when I saw you in that hallway.” Jisung stumbled over his words, heartbeat growing faster by the second. “Ever since then—”
Sion murmured something under his breath, so quiet that Jisung couldn’t bring himself to stop speaking.
“I haven’t been able to get you out of my fucking head. I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t even know you! I just… had to tell you. Before it drives me insane.” He didn’t mean to sound as angry as it came across, but Jisung couldn’t help it. All of a sudden, since seeing Sion’s beautiful fucking face again, it felt like every emotion he’d been missing had suddenly come back all at once. It was so euphoric, that it was almost unbearable.
“Soulmates.” Sion’s voice was still hushed, and it was then that Jisung noticed the way he was shaking. Shoulders trembling just beneath where Jisung’s arm was placed, only a tiny bit shorter than him but just enough to make Sion look smaller than he felt, hands clenched into fists.
“Pardon?”
“We’re soulmates. I think.” Sion’s voice seemed to trip over the words, as if even he didn’t trust himself. “When I ran into you that day, it hurt. It hurts, Jisung, it hurts all the time. I haven’t been myself for weeks. I have no idea what's going on. But when you came in here today, acting perfectly fine, I didn’t know what to do. I don’t even know if it’s true but–” Nothing he was saying was making sense.
“I— What? What hurts?” Jisung’s voice was impossibly softer, edging on tender.
“Fucking everything! I can’t stop crying.” The tears that trickled down Sion’s face seemed perfectly timed. “I feel too much. They had to put me on an unofficial hiatus. I can’t do anything, and it’s all your fucking fault!”
There was that anger again, its fire seeming to burn between them like they were two candles standing next to each other, close enough to share a flame. The heat made Jisung jump, backing away from the wall he’d pressed Sion against.
But Sion wouldn’t let him get away again. He grabbed Jisung’s wrist, hard, the other boy’s flannel sleeve falling down as his arm was stopped midair. It burned. The white star mark glowing, just like…
“Shit!” Sion exclaimed. His voice sounded lighter than a few seconds before, as if a weight had been lifted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would hurt so much.”
Sion’s forearm had a matching star. In the dim light of the room he’d pulled Jisung aside into, the glow seemed impossibly brighter.
“We’re…”
“I’m fucking right.” Sion dropped Jisung’s wrist, letting it fall. He ran his hand through his hair, before placing it on his face and just… laughing. A relieved sort of laughter, light and airy. It made Jisung’s stomach feel like it was tied in knots, seeing the laugh he’d replayed in his mind right in front of him. Maybe he really was enamoured with Sion. His soulmate.
Sion had crouched down now, with bent knees and his back leaning against the wall. Jisung joined him, moving until he was sat cross-legged next to him.
“So… soulmates?” All of a sudden, Jisung felt shy.
“Mhm.” Sion nodded. He was avoiding eye contact, focused on the ground. Perhaps he was even shyer than Jisung, with his nervous giggle and flushed cheeks and ruffled hair from anxious habits. “I think I know… why this all happened. It’s just a thought but… it would explain a lot. Just hear me out, okay?”
“Sion-ah…” Jisung placed a hand on his shoulder, and smiled bashfully. This time, the touch felt warm and Sion wasted no time covering Jisung’s hand with his. “Take all the time you need.”
“I’ve been watching you since I was young.” Sion started, gripping Jisung’s fingers. The other boy tried to conceal the surprise in his face, blinking slowly, watching Sion with careful eyes.
“Since I was 14, I think. I admired your dancing a lot. It was why I decided to audition, actually. And I think that when I saw you in that hallway, when I walked into you… I didn’t know how to feel. All those feelings of adoration, of a fan, I think they got mixed up with our soulbond.”
Sion finally looked up to meet Jisung’s eyes, trying to gauge his reaction. Jisung just nodded. The only thing he could think about was how pretty Sion’s eyes looked, watery and shiny and almost pleading.
“It would explain why I was feeling so awful. Jisung… I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t do anything and it was like something was eating me from the inside out but I had no idea what.”
His voice was panicked, worn.
“Sion. Sion, look at me.” Jisung grabbed his shoulders, forcing them to be face-to-face. They were so close, he could count the moles on Sion’s face, connecting them like they were his own constellation.
“I’ve been feeling off for the past few weeks too. I didn’t feel like you did. I just felt so empty.” Sion’s eyebrows raised at that. Like there was finally an understanding that had formed between them. “I hadn’t really noticed it, you know? I just put it down to tiredness, or something. It wasn’t the same for me. But I’m sure it was connected.”
Jisung took a deep breath, seeing the way Sion’s chest had finally slowed. He placed his right hand against Sion’s neck, basking in the comfort of his soulmark resting against the other's pulse. It was comfortably serene.
“I believe you. Besides, the only thing that matters is that you’re here now.”
Sion sags against him, going limp in an instant. It felt like Jisung had just stolen all his worries away; his fears, hurt and sorrow were gone with just a few words. The older boy’s hands moved to his back, hugging Sion so tightly that he felt breathless again, this time his lungs taken with a flowering adoration.
Jisung is an angel, Sion thinks. The way he seemed so light and wonderful, the way his bashful smile seemed to glow even brighter than the stars they both shared. The way the apples of his cheeks were raised and slightly red.
“I finally have you.” Sion mumbled into his chest, almost too quiet to hear. Jisung would never have to know the way he’d yearned, but he’d surely come to know the way he wants.
Sion loves Jisung, he’s sure of it. He won’t say it now, but one day he will. He’ll tell Jisung how much he loves his face, so small he could hold it between his hands. How much he likes the way Jisung looks down at him when he’s speaking, his facial expressions are always more telling than his speech. But why rush? They had the whole future ahead of them, after all.
Even Jisung couldn’t help the feeling that came over him, the fondness for this boy whose existence he’d known of for less than a month. He leant forward without thinking, closing the small gap between them and placed a soft but firm kiss against Sion’s forehead, as if to say forever. You have me forever.
Sion moved quickly after that. His hands looped around Jisung’s neck, pulling them desperately closer. Until he could feel the other’s erratic breath against his cheek.
“This okay?” Jisung whispered into his skin. Sion simply nodded, trying to drop his head into the curve of Jisung’s neck, attempting to hide the warmth on his face.
“More than okay. I promise.”
He didn’t have to lie anymore. He didn’t have to hide, hide the way his heart was simply devoted to Jisung. How Sion practically worshipped the ground he walked on, a kind of adoration that would only grow with closeness.
They stayed there for a while. Sion nuzzled into Jisung’s neck, the same Jisung who was cradling his head like it was something precious and combing through his hair in a gentle, calming motion.
“I want to kiss you. We just met but I want to kiss you.” Jisung said out of the blue, so absentmindedly it was as if Sion wasn’t there, wasn’t listening.
Sion tensed in his arms.
“You can kiss me. But… only if you’re sure you want to.” His voice was slow and methodical. As if he was checking every avenue, every direction to see if this was really what Jisung wanted.
It was that doubt again, worming its way into the contentment they’d created. Sion couldn’t help it, when it was impossible for Jisung to want Sion as much as Sion wanted him.
“Why wouldn’t I want to?”
It was so blatant, the way Jisung wanted. Far more forward than Sion could ever be, but maybe that's how they’ll work out. A simple push and pull, always meeting in the middle.
Sion could say nothing in response, simply shaking his head in embarrassment. Fuck, he was cute. Jisung could focus on nothing but the way his heart was beating, the way Sion felt so whole beneath his hands and the way he really, really wanted him.
“I want to know every part of you, Sion. Let’s start here, okay?” He just hoped Sion would believe him.
A moment of silence, tension almost palpable between them. And then—
“Okay.”
That was all the confirmation Jisung needed.
He guided Sion’s head back, fingers still in his hair, until he could see those pleading eyes again. He pressed his lips against the mole under Sion’s eye, feeling the way his eyelashes fluttered in surprise. Cute. Another kiss to the one on his cheekbone, where he could feel the warmth of Sion’s cheek against his mouth.
His lips eventually drifted down to Sion’s chin, Jisung grasping his jaw with a gentle hand. Sion whined, a small pathetic sound, hands gripping Jisung’s neck a little tighter. He leant in first with a boldness only desperation could evoke.
Finally, Jisung had Sion’s lips on his.
They were a little dry, but shy and inviting nonetheless. Jisung swiped his tongue along the other’s lower lip, allowing him to press a little further into Sion, eagerness bleeding into the way he kissed. Both of his hands were now gripping Sion’s cheeks, the younger’s back pressed up against the wall and head tilted like he couldn’t get enough.
Jisung would be lying if he said it was perfect. But it was so warm that he just couldn’t stop.
Sion pulled back briefly, breathing heavily and giggling. Jisung barely had a moment to himself before those lips he could grow so used to were against his again.
He could feel the hunger this time. The way Sion started to lick into his mouth, inexperience clearer than ever. Jisung couldn’t help but reciprocate, almost guiding the other through it.
He wasn’t sure how to be a leader. That was Sion’s job, after all. But maybe Sion could learn from him this way, as he kissed Jisung fervently and eagerly, their roles switching so easily.
After a few minutes, it faded into something almost lazy and practiced until Sion eventually let Jisung go, his arms falling away from the other’s shoulders as he took a moment to just breathe.
He was surprised by the way it had happened. Sion hadn’t panicked. He wasn’t crying anymore, his heart finally released from whatever vice grip it was in before. It was weird, to suddenly feel normal. Jisung probably felt the same. At least he hoped he did.
It made sense now, why a part of him had always yearned for Jisung. It was always supposed to be like this. Sion and Jisung. Jisung and Sion.
A hand reached down to where Sion was still sitting on the floor, knees now pulled up to his chest. Jisung had stood up, one hand motioning to Sion and the other fixing his slightly disheveled hair.
Sion could do nothing but take his hand, gripping it tightly as if Jisung would suddenly let go.
They would never be apart from now on. Sion had promised himself long ago that he would chase Jisung to the ends of the earth. He never imagined being able to do it standing by his side, but fate had funny ways of working sometimes.
“Ready to go?” Jisung had intertwined their fingers, pulling Sion closer to the door.
“I’ll go anywhere you take me.” Sion responded. He felt almost mesmerised by the way Jisung was looking at him. Eyes so bright and doting he couldn’t bear to look away.
Jisung smiled at him, and Sion was nothing if not weak. He just smiled back, hoping Jisung could feel the way Sion had laid out his heart for him to see, and followed.