Chapter Text
It was well past midnight, and the practice room was a mess of scattered water bottles and replayed counts of eight. With an awards performance just around the corner, the members were desperately trying to lock down the new version of the Chains choreo.
Because three of them weren’t in the original lineup, the entire routine had to be redistributed from scratch. Jiahao was the only one who kept his original parts—everyone else was relearning sections like their lives depended on it.
“I don’t think this is working.”
The choreographer pushed herself up from the floor, eyes narrowed in concentration.
All the members turned toward her, confusion spreading like a wave.
“There are some of you who aren’t getting enough time in the spotlight,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Fans are going to notice.”
Leo, already aware of the issue, lifted his hand before anyone else could speak. As leader, he had clearly been expecting this conversation.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same. Everyone has a lot of lines in the song, but Junseo only has the bridge—and that’s it.”
“What?”
Junseo lifted his head from the corner at the sound of his name, eyes widening slightly.
“No— I mean… we already recorded the song,” he said quickly, waving both hands as if shooing the attention away. “I don’t mind my part.”
“Junseo is right,” Geonwoo said, stepping into the discussion.
“The recording is already done, and the producer split the lines based on what the company wanted.”
Leo’s brows pulled together, eyes fixed on the mirror as if the answer might be hiding in their reflections. He crossed his arms, exhaling slowly, clearly refusing to let the issue drop.
“Can we switch my first part with Junseo’s? It’s a clean transition, and it won’t affect the formation too much.”
Across the room, Sangwon—who had been practicing footwork alone—paused mid-step and looked at Leo.
The choreographer considered the suggestion, tapping her pen against her clipboard.
“That could work… you wouldn’t have to record the song again since it’s just the intro for the choreo.”
And Leo didn’t hesitate.
“That’s fine,” he said immediately. “Junseo can do it.”
Junseo’s breath caught.
He opened his mouth to protest, but Leo shot him a small, reassuring smile.
“It’ll give you more presence on stage,” he said quietly.
Junseo looked at him and finally nodded.
……………………………………………………
As the hours passed, the other members slowly drifted out toward the dorms.
The only ones still in the practice room were Junseo and Sangwon, who needed to rehearse their shared section before calling it a night.
Junseo forced himself to stay focused.
This was originally Leo’s segment—and Leo was Sangwon’s soulmate.
Even if no one said it out loud, the shift made the air heavier.
“Okay, let’s start,”
Sangwon clapped his hands together, the sharp sound making Junseo flinch.
Sangwon laughed softly. “You’re jumpy today.”
“I’m fine,” Junseo muttered, failing to sound convincing.
They moved to the center.
Sangwon dropped to his knees, crossing his wrists as the choreography required,
Junseo stepped closer, and that’s when he saw it clearly:
The soulmate mark on the side of Sangwon’s neck.
Faint but visible now that his makeup had faded.
Leo’s mark. The matching half of a set Junseo had seen a thousand times before.
His stomach tightened.
He reached out anyway.
His hand settled on Sangwon’s neck, guiding his face towards the other.
His thumb brushed directly over the glowing shape of the mark—and Junseo felt Sangwon tense, just slightly.
They both pretended not to notice.
The next move required Junseo to lean in close, almost chest-to-back as he moved behind him to lift Sangwon’s arms—removing the invisible chains.
It was clean and professional.
By the fourth repetition, Sangwon pushed himself off the floor, breathing hard.
“That’s enough for today,” he said, grabbing his bottle.
Yeah,” Junseo agreed, wiping sweat from his forehead. His eyes stayed on the mirror instead of on Sangwon. “We’ll polish it tomorrow.”
Sangwon nodded, but didn’t move toward the exit.
Junseo could feel him watching.
“You don’t have to act weird about it,” he said quietly.
Junseo stiffened. “I’m not acting weird.”
“You flinched every time you touched my neck.”
Sangwon’s gaze flicked briefly to the mirror, to the faint soulmate mark on his own skin. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious.
“It’s just choreography…” he murmured.
“I know,” Junseo said, zipping his bag.
His jaw was tight.
…………………………………………………
On the ride back to the dorms, neither of them spoke, both too absorbed in their own thoughts.
Sangwon stared out the window, lost in thought, until his phone buzzed.
Leo
Are you okay? I sensed you were anxious a little while ago.
Sangwon
Yeah, I’m heading home now. Just tired.
Leo
You wanna come to my room?
Sangwon
We have to wake up early tomorrow. I’ll stay here. I love you ❤️
Leo
Alright. Let me know when you get back. Love you too ❤️
He exhaled, locking his phone.
When he turned his head, he noticed Junseo leaning against the window, headphones in.
Junseo’s hoodie had slipped just enough to reveal the faint outline of his soulmate mark.
Sangwon stared for a beat.
It was pretty, just like him.
And he wondered, briefly, who would get to be the lucky person to be with Junseo.
……………………………………………………
Junseo entered the apartment quietly, slipping off his shoes and letting the silence settle around him. Sangwon had gone straight to his own room, claiming he needed to shower, and Junseo didn’t push.
He walked into his room, turning on his desk lamp.
The soft light made the space feel smaller—almost too quiet.
He sat on the edge of his bed and let out a slow breath.
His mind, unhelpfully, went straight back to the same place it always did.
Soulmates.
More specifically: everyone else’s.
Leo and Sangwoon had found out they were soulmates years ago, when they were training together.
Even Xinlong and Geonwoo had their marks fully awakened already.
Junseo, the oldest, was the only one whose mark had never flickered.
Not once.
Not even a false alarm.
He lifted his hand to his neck, fingertips brushing the faint shape under his skin.
Most people said not to overthink it. That marks awakened differently for everyone. That some reacted to physical proximity, others to strong emotion, others to danger.
Junseo’s did none of that.
But tonight…
Tonight it felt heavier.
Because his hand had been on Sangwon’s neck for an hour straight.
And under his palm, Sangwon’s mark had glowed lightly with every movement—every breath.
Proof of someone else’s destiny.
Leo’s.
Junseo lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
“It’s just work,” he whispered to himself.
But as he turned to his side and pulled the blanket up, he couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his chest.
Soulmates were supposed to bring clarity.
For him, all they brought was confusion.
And maybe—just maybe—something he didn’t want to name.