Chapter Text
“If I ever meet my soulmate, I’m going to choke them.”
That’s the first thing Jeonghan mutters the moment he stares into the mirror and sees his freaking rainbow highlights shimmer under the morning sun like he’s a backup dancer for a unicorn parade.
Not even full hair—no, his soulmate had the audacity to dye their hair a multicolored disaster and leave him with just the highlights, like a joke. A very colorful, very vibrant joke.
Jeonghan blinks. “No, seriously. Jail. I’m pressing charges.”
Because today is not just any day. It’s his job interview. At the most prestigious marketing firm in Seoul. The place where people wear neutral tones and speak in acronyms and look like they’ve never known joy, let alone color.
And here he is. Looking like a Lisa Frank intern.
“Oh my god,” Soonyoung chokes behind him. He’s already got his phone up. “Wait—don’t move. This lighting is insane.”
Jeonghan whips around. “I swear—if you post that—”
But it’s too late. Soonyoung is cackling, typing away. “Caption: When your soulmate is a menace and you have to suffer through it in HD. Hashtag rainbow rage. Hashtag color crisis.”
Ding.
A beat. Then two. Then three. Then—
“Jeonghan,” Soonyoung whispers, eyes wide. “You’re going viral.”
The second time it happens, Jeonghan is ready.
He’s bleached his hair back to normal—thank you, 2 a.m. emergency appointment at the 24/7 salon—and started carrying a dye box in his bag just in case his mystery color terrorist decides to strike again.
But then.
His fingernails.
Turquoise.
He stares at them in horror during his team briefing. His manager is literally mid-presentation about synergy and Jeonghan is sitting there wondering if his soulmate just dipped their head into a swimming pool of mermaid dye.
He sighs, pulling his sleeves over his hands.
“I hope they’re bald by the time I find them,” he thinks bitterly, “because I’m going to make sure they regret every single bottle of Manic Panic they’ve ever touched.”
The third time, Jeonghan snaps.
Bright. Neon. Orange. Eyes.
That’s what he wakes up to.
And he likes the color. He really does. But he’s done being a passive victim in this war. It’s time for revenge.
He marches into the salon with a mission: “Give me the most hideous combo of colors you can imagine. Make it hurt. Make them cry.”
The stylist blinks. “Sir, are you sure—”
“Make. It. Clash.”
Two hours later, he walks out with chartreuse, lavender, and electric pink highlights. He looks like someone took a highlighter set and went wild.
It’s glorious.
And then it keeps going.
Because his soulmate is clearly petty too.
He wakes up the next day with glitter in his nails. The day after that, his eyes are periwinkle. Then it’s green tips. Then silver streaks. Then a week of alternating polka dots.
They’re going back and forth, week after week, like a silent, increasingly dramatic argument.
Soonyoung sets up a betting pool in the office. People start speculating. His Instagram blows up. People are rooting for this unseen drama. Someone even makes a TikTok slideshow: Jeonghan vs The Color Bandit.
But then—
Then it happens.
He walks into the company’s annual networking gala. His hair freshly dyed pastel galaxy swirl, nails shimmering in muted gold, eyes now seafoam green. It’s all strangely... coordinated.
(He didn’t do it on purpose. Maybe.)
And then he sees him.
Across the room.
Tall. Dark-haired. Wearing a sleek black suit, drink in hand, eyes glowing the same seafoam green.
Their gazes lock.
Both of them freeze.
“You—” Jeonghan hisses.
“You’re the reason I looked like a tropical bird for three weeks,” the stranger says flatly.
“You’re the reason my boss asked if I joined a K-pop group!” Jeonghan shoots back.
The man—Seungcheol, as his name tag reads—glares. “You dyed your hair chartreuse. That should be illegal.”
Jeonghan steps forward. “You started it!”
“No, you—” Seungcheol stops. Takes a breath. “You know what? This is stupid.”
“Agreed.”
A pause.
“...Wanna get coffee and yell at each other more?” Seungcheol asks.
Jeonghan tilts his head, considering. “Only if we agree to stop dyeing our hair until we meet again. Truce?”
“Truce.”
As soon as their hands shake, there's a quiet shimmer—like a thread snapping—and suddenly, they both feel... lighter.
No more color transfer. The curse is broken.
(But the damage is eternal. Seungcheol still has pictures. So does the Internet.)
Later
“Hey,” Seungcheol murmurs, weeks into dating. “Now that it won’t affect you… what do you think about me going platinum blond?”
Jeonghan glares. “Only if I get to bleach your eyebrows too.”
Seungcheol grins. “Deal.”
They kiss, both of them laughing.
Turns out, falling for your chaotic, color-obsessed soulmate isn’t the worst thing after all.
Especially when they match your crazy streak highlight for highlight.
Two weeks after the truce.
Jeonghan has normal hair.
Normal nails.
Normal eyes.
And yet somehow, nothing about his life feels normal anymore, because now he has Seungcheol.
Seungcheol, who turns out to be weirdly charming when he’s not being a war criminal with hair dye. Seungcheol, who sends him voice notes just to rant about how hard it is to find a good shampoo for bleached hair. Seungcheol, who took Jeonghan out for “peace talks” and then accidentally won his heart in the middle of an argument about who had the worst color phase.
“Your eyes were literally radioactive green.”
“You had Skittles for hair, Yoon Jeonghan.”
Okay, fine. Maybe it was love.
But here’s the thing.
Just because the soulmate hair-color-curse ended when they met… doesn’t mean they stopped dyeing their hair.
Oh no.
Now it’s competitive art.
“Don’t touch the bathroom,” Jeonghan warns one night, holding a suspicious-looking box with holographic stickers on it.
Seungcheol pauses mid-step. “What is that?”
Jeonghan grins. “Glow-in-the-dark dye. If this works, I’m going to look like a traffic light.”
“…That’s not a good thing.”
“I’ll be the hottest traffic light you’ve ever seen.”
Later, Seungcheol sneaks into the salon and dyes only the bottom inch of his hair cotton candy blue just to match.
Jeonghan nearly screams when he notices.
“I told you no soft boy aesthetic until winter!”
“You literally looked like the inside of a lava lamp last week!”
Social Media Status: Still Chaos.
Now that everyone knows Jeonghan and Seungcheol were those soulmates from the viral color saga, they’ve become an accidental brand.
They’ve done one (1) chaotic Q&A video.
Soonyoung uploaded it without permission, but they leaned in.
Now their joint account is a mess of:
Hair dye tutorials
Reaction videos to old photos of their worst color phases
Seungcheol trying to do Jeonghan’s eyeliner and stabbing him in the eye
“Guess the dye by the swatch” challenges where Jeonghan almost drinks hair developer on camera
Jeonghan: “This bottle looks like a juice pouch.”
Seungcheol: “You are banned from the salon.”
One night, post-dye and post-popcorn.
They’re sprawled on the floor, heads resting on a beanbag they don’t remember buying, hair still damp, colors clashing but hearts very in sync.
Jeonghan hums. “Do you ever miss the chaos?”
Seungcheol glances at him. “We are the chaos.”
“Touché.”
Beat.
“But I do miss your eyes changing,” Seungcheol says quietly. “It was kind of cool. Romantic, in a weird, freaky, magical-cursed way.”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “You liked it because you could tell when I was mad at you. They’d turn red.”
“Exactly. Built-in Jeonghan Mood Ring.”
“You’re so lucky we’re soulmates or I’d kick your ass.”
“You say that like you could.”
Jeonghan pins him in one smooth move.
Seungcheol chokes on air. “Okay—okay I stand corrected—ow—”
They eventually settle into something softer.
The color battles quiet down, replaced by matching streaks they plan together, trips to salons with too many sample books, and dates where they dye each other’s hair just because they can.
Their followers still ask if they ever regret meeting.
Seungcheol always says: “Not even once.”
Jeonghan shrugs, leans into him, and says:
“I’d do it again. Even with rainbow tips and nuclear green eyes.
Though next time, I’m starting the war.”