A Little Thing Called Happiness (2/2)
Title: A Little Thing Called Happiness
Pairing(s): QMi, KangTeuk, HanChul, side!KryBer
Genre(s): Romance, soul mate AU
Length: ~17k
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which the name of one’s true love is written on a person’s wrist.
Inspiration(s): I got the idea from the TV show My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic, believe it or not. When ponies realize their talents, they get something called a Cutie Mark, which is a symbol on a pony’s flank. Those who do not have Cutie Marks are called Blank Flanks. The jumpiness of the narrative is from Love Actually, which just cuts from scene to scene. Beta'ed by jojibear - thank you so much!
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Jungsu was never leaving his bedroom again. Ever.
After realizing what they had done, Jungsu had all but shoved Kangin out of his shop and locked the entrance before taking refuge in the storage room in hopes of wrapping his head around all of it. Once the banging on his flower shop door stopped (Jungsu, open the door, please let me explain, I love you, don’t lock me out, please!) and Jungsu was absolutely sure Kangin had given up, he grabbed his bag, hastily put away the flowers, and closed his shop early.
And from then until the next morning, Jungsu was sprawled underneath his bed covers, just staring at his Soul Mark. Kim Youngwoon.
Heechul had already checked on him three times, breaking their tacit rule that no roommate should step across the border unless absolutely necessary. (But then again, Heechul had implied that a half-dead half-shell-shocked Jungsu definitely fell under the absolutely necessary category).
Jungsu took three days off before he realized that without work taking up most of his time, there was honestly nothing else to do but read John Locke and mope around the apartment. Plus, there was no way he was going to avoid Kangin forever-might as well get it over with before it got even more out of hand. So eventually he found himself back in his flower shop, heart cracking a bit at the sight of some of his withered flowers.
After getting everything sorted out, he flipped the CLOSED sign over to show the OPEN sign, and then he busied himself with the newest order of Magnolias, carefully handling them so as not to disrupt the delicate petals.
Within half an hour, he heard a creak of the door and familiar footsteps. Jungsu swallowed. “Hi Kangin,” he greeted in a falsely cheerful voice, hoping that he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.
“You were away for three days,” Kangin stated curtly, straight to the point. His voice was professionally masked, almost practiced. Jungsu envied that.
“Yes. Yes, I was.”
“I’m sorry that I upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me.”
“Clearly, I did.”
“It was a mistake, that’s all.”
“It was not a mistake. I meant to kiss you.”
Jungsu swallowed and took several deep breaths. Well, that didn’t help at all. “You also said something three days ago, after I locked you out.”
He could hear Kangin’s shoes shuffle. “What did I say?”
“You said that you loved me.”
“I do.”
Jungsu turned around to face the taller man, eyes sad with longing. “No, you don’t.” He took Kangin’s left wrist and ran his fingers over the broad watch covering where his Soul Mark would be. “Somewhere out there, your soul mate is waiting for you to find him. So is mine. I care about you, and much as it pains me to say it, I do love you-that’s why I don’t want you to settle for second-best.”
Kangin’s eyes flashed. “Do you really think that is what you are? Second-best?”
“I’m not the man whose name is written on your wrist, Kangin.”
“My name is not Kangin.”
Jungsu froze.
With a shaky huff, the man stripped off his wristwatch and held it up beside his face. In the place of black leather, there was a streak of red angry blisters enclosing a single name written in white. “My name is Kim Youngwoon, and my soul mate’s name is Park Jungsu. He is standing right in front of me.”
Kyuhyun probably should have made a Things To Learn Before Moving Out Of Parents’ Basement list. Because as it turned out, cooking was one of those things. Making instant noodles had seemed so easy when his big sister had done it for him, but one burnt pot and an overheated stove later, he was starting to realize that this was not the case.
So he took out his Things I Should Do Before Meeting Zhou Mi list and added learn to cook at the bottom.
He sighed heavily and blew his bangs out of his eyes. He had yet to get that haircut.
Because he was bored and the house was much too quiet than he was accustomed to, he made another list.
What I Hope Zhou Mi Will Be Like
- shorter than me
- has the longest and best-shaped legs
- smiles at only me all the time
- has a beautiful voice but not more beautiful than mine
- makes me laugh
- can cook
- blushes easily
- splits the bill without question
- won’t laugh at the fact that I just can’t bear to throw away my Spice Girls CD
- likes all my friends, but likes me most
- finds me perfect in every single way
- won’t find me boring
Kyuhyun looked at the last one and rubbed at his temples. Good god, he was going to have the hardest time with that.
He looked over at his desks where three stacks of ungraded trigonometry tests were placed, and groaned. There was nothing interesting about him. All of the people he knew were interesting. His sister studied in Australia and had a photo of her holding a baby kangaroo in her arms. His dad was an astronomer. His mother was a piano teacher and former international competition winner. Jungsu was a florist and could name every flower from the Western hemisphere both by its common name as well as its scientific name. Heechul was Heechul-that in itself was interesting.
Kyuhyun was, well, just Kyuhyun.
What’s worse, he couldn’t even considered good-looking, at least not in the traditional sense. He did not have abs or biceps or a strong jaw or great hair or a charming smile or an open sense of humor or an English accent. Nope, he was stuck with his flabby stomach, skinny arms, a sunken jaw, floppy locks, an awkward smile at best, anti-socialness, and no English accent. Granted, Kyuhyun had sexy dark eyes-the chicks loved sexy dark eyes, didn’t they?-but they were always covered up by his godforsaken hair.
(Note to self, man up and get that damn haircut.)
He opened up his laptop and went onto Google, where he looked up Top Ten Manliest Hobbies
The first one that came up was travel. Seriously? How in the world would he be able to save enough money to travel at the rate he was going?
The second one that came up was sports, especially martial arts and football and hockey. Kyuhyun immediately crossed those options in his mind. The last time he had done any sort of strenuous physical activity, it was in high school in gym class where he got a black eye from a very well-aimed rugby ball.
Next was ballroom dancing. Which was just, like, no. Kyuhyun was a lot of things, but Fred Astaire wasn’t one of them.
Cooking also came up, and Kyuhyun groaned. Yah, he was going to have to start on that one, stat.
He gave up when the website listed camping because Kyuhyun had never understood the point of stranding yourself out in the wilderness when you had a perfectly good roof over your head and less chance of a grizzly bear tearing your arm off. There were some scary statistics of grizzly bear attacks a while back, actually; Kyuhyun had to wonder if it was accurate or not but he didn’t want to take any chances.
And that was how Kyuhyun came to the very sad but very true conclusion that in addition to being boring, he was also very unmanly.
Great.
Kyuhyun sighed and crossed out won’t find me boring from the list. That was setting the standard much too high. He replaced it with will tolerate my boringness. That sounded a lot more doable.
My dear Heechul,
Zhou Mi left yesterday in the middle of the night telling me that he had found his soul mate. Whether or not this is true, I know not, and part of me is sad to see him go. I want nothing more than to see Zhou Mi find his soul mate-god knows that he more than deserves it-but the realization that he may leave and never return pains me to no end. Does that make me selfish?
I know that I continue to write this in all my letters, but it is the raw truth that there is nothing that I would love more than to meet you, Heechul. Even if you decide not to stay with me, grant me one selfish request that I at least have the chance to meet with you-perhaps even talk to you, get to know all about you, fall completely in love with you.
My hand is shaking as I write this letter, but I feel that this is long overdue.
When I was born, the doctors told my mother than I would never be able to see from my right eye-because I had no right eye. I was born with skin covered over that part of my face. My left eye is weak but still functional, which is a miracle in itself. People take vision for granted. For me, it is a privilege. As I get older, my left eye will become weaker and weaker. Eventually, when I am older, I will not be able to see at all.
It is not that I assume that you will find me ugly at first glance. (Something tells me that you are anything but superficial.) My main worry is that you’ll regret being with me. I attract peoples’ attention. I gain sympathetic glances.
Undoubtedly, people will talk. They will say things like ‘what is that beautiful man doing with that cripple?’ Will you be able to endure them? Will you be able to carry that burden? I have a feeling that you will, which is what troubles me. If you are the wonderful person that I am sure you are, you deserve better than to settle for somebody like me. I walk with a cane, I sometimes knock things over by accident, I can barely read some days when my eye is too sore to even be opened.
Therein presents another problem. I will become completely blind by the time I turn sixty. This is more of a personal grievance of mine. As time passes, my eyesight will fade, and my greatest fear is that I will never be able to see you when I meet you. And even if I do, I will never be able to see you grow old. I won’t be able to see your first grey hair or your first wrinkle.
Please show yourself soon, while I still have enough strength in my left eye.
With all my love,
Han Geng
Zhou Mi was a romantic, but he was also impatient. Once Heechul had picked him up, he had asked to be driven to Kyuhyun’s house immediately. His heart was about to burst-his soul mate was near, he was sure of it!
“Zhou Mi,” Heechul groaned, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “It is bloody four in the morning. Can this wait until after I get my beauty sleep?”
“Heechul, please,” Zhou Mi pleaded, grabbing his friend by the shoulders in an iron grip. “Please, just trust me this one time, I’m begging you.”
Heechul gave him a look and sighed. He could never say no to his favorite shopping spree partner. “Fine. Kyuhyun’s probably up anyways. He usually stays up late playing his dumb computer games.”
Zhou Mi whooped and pulled Heechul into a tackle-bear-hug. “Thank you, Heechul. Thank you so much.”
And that was how Heechul found himself half-asleep and driving his hyperactive Chinese friend to Kyuhyun’s flat. “You’re so lucky you’re pretty,” he grumbled as he maneuvered the streets, cursing under his breath at every red light they hit.
To pass the time, Zhou Mi did what he did best and started to talk. He updated Heechul about the newest fashion trends (knitted bowties are back in this year), the grueling work hours that were only tolerable whenever Krystal and Amber were customers, how his parents had adopted a dog after it had been found half-starved on their porch, how worried he was about Han Geng-
“Han Geng?” Heechul started in his seat, suddenly completely awake. “Who’s Han Geng? You’ve never told me about Han Geng?”
“Oh, he’s a friend of mine,” the man replied easily. “Nicest guy ever, but so self-depreciating that you can’t help but want to shake him sometimes.”
“Is that so?”
“Yah,” Zhou Mi sighed. “I’m worried about him. He lives all alone and has no immediate family. For all I know, I am probably his only friend outside of work.”
“What does he do?” Heechul asked, trying not to sound too interested.
“He works for an insurance company. He hates it, though. Too much paperwork and a lot of paper cuts.”
“Then why does he do it?”
“Medical bills.”
Heechul jumped in horror. “Oh my god, is he okay?”
Zhou Mi laughed. “Oh, no, he’s perfectly healthy! It’s just that being half-blind is sort of expensive. Are we almost there?”
Heechul cursed his luck. Kyuhyun’s flat was just around the corner. The question what do you mean ‘half-blind’? was left unsaid and he pulled up against the curb. “Yah, we’re here. I’ll walk you in.”
Zhou Mi was out of the car before Heechul killed the engine. “No, I’ll go myself. What’s the room number?”
“Room 532, fifth floor.”
The Chinese man power-walked towards the building entrance and pressed the elevator button incessantly until the doors opened. After pressing the ‘5’ button, he tried to keep still and listened to the crappy elevator music, all but pulling the doors apart as he had finally arrived at the correct floor. He sprinted around the hallways and skimmed the room numbers (520, 522, 524, 526, almost there, almost there), heart swelling at the sight of Room 532.
Quickly he caught his breath and knocked on the door. A soft curse came from behind the door but Zhou Mi was too happy to feel guilty.
A disheveled young man in a wife beater and Angry Birds pajama bottoms answered, and Zhou Mi’s breath caught. Early twenties at most, dark yet mischievous eyes, thin figure, adorable pseudo bowl cut.
“May I help you?”
Zhou Mi swallowed, not even bothering to fight off the Cheshire cat smile on his face. “Are you Kyuhyun? Cho Kyuhyun?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, and who are you?”
Zhou Mi rolled his sleeve up and held out his left wrist. “My name is Zhou Mi. I believe you are my soul mate.”
They stood there for what seemed like hours before Kyuhyun finally managed to regain his voice. He was blushing; it was delightful. “Would you like to come in?”
Zhou Mi let out a breath that he did not know he was holding. “Yes.”
Jungsu had no idea whether he should have been ecstatic or furious, so he did what he did best and started chatting about the history of cherry blossoms.
“A cherry blossom is a flower found on trees of genus Prunus. The most common one, I would think, is found on the sakura tree, Prunus serrulata, and they are white to pink in clusters of five petals.”
“Jungsu-”
“The Prunus serrulata also bears fruit, did you know that?” Jungsu continued, quickly cutting off anything Youngwoon was about to say. “Very beautiful fruit, actually, little black cherries.”
“Jungsu-”
“The cherry blossom is often used in a lot of festivals, as most people probably know already from all the movies and Japanese anime out there. Hanami festivals, for instance, date back to the third century, and are festivals that celebrate the beauty of cherry blossoms and provide the opportunity to relax and enjoy the view.”
“Jungsu-”
“Symbolism is also prominent in this flower. In Japan, they serve as a metaphor for the ephemeral nature of life because they are flowers of beauty but also of quick death after the short blossoming period has ended. They also symbolize clouds because they bloom in clusters. Fun fact: during the Second World War, the cherry blossom was used as motivation and propaganda for the Japanese people and inspired nationalistic spirit.”
“Jungsu!” Youngwoon shouted, regretting raising his voice when he saw the florist wince. “Sorry. Just listen to me, okay?”
Jungsu shook his head. “Not right now, Kangin-Youngwoon. I still have to wrap my head around all this. It’s just such a shock, and it was unfair of you to lie to me like that.” A hot blush found its way onto Jungsu’s face when he realized the implications, and he buried his face into his hands. “My god, if I had known that you were my soul mate, I would have never told you about my philosophy classes. You must think that I'm such an idiot!”
“You are not an idiot,” Youngwoon assured softly. “In fact, you’re quite the opposite. I was touched when you told me. You were working really hard for me, and it made me so happy to know that I was worth that much to you.”
Jungsu felt tears at the corners of his eyes. “Everything I did, I did with you in mind.”
“I know.”
“You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me from the start. It’s been months and you had plenty of opportunities to fess up but you didn’t.”
Youngwoon hung his head. “I know.”
And Jungsu took in the sight with reluctant pity. He was used to seeing Youngwoon have this proud jut in his chin and confidence in his steps, but the Youngwoon in front of him stood uncomfortably, eyes downcast and weary. He sighed in defeat. “Do you regret it?” he asked.
“Yes,” came the immediate answer.
And Jungsu smiled coyly, dark feelings dissipating as the sun shone in his heart. “Then are you willing to spend the rest of your life making up for it?”
Youngwoon’s eyes widened and within the next minute the two of them were struck by a fit of giggles. Too happy to care about anything else, Youngwoon hoisted his soul mate into the air and twirled around, kissing him breathless. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you-”
Spending time with two friends was normal. Spending time with two friends who were coincidentally significant others was pushing it. Spending time with two friends who were coincidentally significant others, both of whom were constantly touching each other’s Soul Marks and having eye-sex with each other, definitely did not fall under Heechul’s category of a Good Time.
(“Get a room,” Heechul grumbled as he watched Zhou Mi press a long kiss to Kyuhyun’s throat.
Kyuhyun had the decency to blush. Zhou Mi just grinned. “Oh come on, Heechul, can’t you be happy for me?” Zhou Mi whined in his accented Korean.
“Don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled that the two of you are happy,” the barista rolled his eyes. “Just do me a huge favor and go be happy somewhere else. Preferably, you should go somewhere that does not make the people around you gag on their breakfast.”
Zhou Mi grinned harder. “Speaking of gagging, have I told you about how Kyuhyun has pretty much no gag reflex whatsoever?”
“Zhou Mi!” a scandalized Kyuhyun hissed at the same time Heechul covered his ears and cried “Ew, too much information!”)
When Zhou Mi left to go to the bathroom, Heechul seized this chance to talk to Kyuhyun. Despite his cruel words and tactless remarks, he did care about the younger man. “You like Zhou Mi,” he stated the obvious, amused at the way Kyuhyun’s eyes glazed over at the mention of his soul mate’s name.
“Understatement,” the graduate student replied, sipping on the last of his soy latte.
“Is he everything you wanted him to be?”
“No. He’s better.” Kyuhyun pulled out his black notebook and flipped to the page titled Things I Love About Zhou Mi. It was thus far ten pages long, single-spaced. “Though I’m slightly bitter about how he’s taller than me. I read in a statistical journal that men who are six feet or taller make an average of nearly one thousand dollars more per year than those two inches shorter.”
Heechul laughed. “Well, if it makes you feel better, he thinks you are adorable.”
The student made a noncommittal sound but there was a shy smile on his face.
“Zhou Mi has been one of my best friends for a long time,” Heechul said. “In some ways, he’s even closer to me than Jungsu is. I asked him out once, but before you freak out, he declined because he’s romantic like that. Hell-bent on saving himself for The One, you know.” Heechul set aside his dishcloth and leaned forward so that Kyuhyun’s face was just inches from his own. “So here’s the deal: you hurt him, I’ll rip your face off, put a bullet through your laptop, and burn all those damn lists you made. Not necessarily in that order.”
Kyuhyun blinked. “Deal.”
Zhou Mi returned less than a minute later, and Heechul spent the rest of their time together retelling all of Kyuhyun’s embarrassing stories (i.e. light-saber boxers) and babbling about Zhou Mi’s less-than-dignified moments (i.e. drunk karaoke). Spending time with two friends who were coincidentally significant others by embarrassing the utter crap out of them totally fell under Heechul’s category of a Good Time.
Zhou Mi hung out at Heechul’s apartment when Kyuhyun was busy grading tests, and they got each other up to speed with their lives and discussed some jobs that Zhou Mi could apply for. Sometimes, Zhou Mi talked about Han Geng and Heechul hung onto every word.
(“-we met in university, when I had already graduated and was just taking courses for fun, and we became friends because we both had Soul Marks written in Korean-”
“-he used to be a dancer, almost went professional but his eye made it hard for him to see his location on the stage-”
“-he has low self-esteem, but he’s honestly one of the kindest people I have ever met-”
“-I had to drive him to a hospital once when his eye was acting up; had quite a scare that night, the doctor told him that he almost went totally blind-”
“-he’s an amazing singer, too, and he sometimes sings when he thinks I’m not listening-”
“-he never says it, but I know that he wants nothing more than to meet his soul mate-”
“-he has a soft spot for children, and even the shiest ones open up to him in the end; I think it is because he himself was a shy child so he knows exactly how to get them out of their shells-”)
Those tiny tidbits of information kept Heechul’s hopes high. Han Geng sounded perfect-he was perfect. God, he wanted to meet him.
“You should invite him over,” Heechul hazarded one day when Zhou Mi was prattling about the pain-in-the-ass workload that Han Geng suffered through each week. “He seems like he needs a break.”
Zhou Mi sighed. “No kidding. I’ve been trying to invite him over ever since I got here. I wanted him to meet you and Kyuhyun. The guy’s a workaholic at times. He once stayed up three days in a row to finish up a project that got scrapped at the end.”
Heechul’s heart sank. “That’s too bad.”
“I’m planning on asking him to visit sometime next month, though. I know for a fact that he has a two-week break during that time and his bonus will be enough for an airplane ticket here.”
Heechul brightened. “Will he come?”
“I’ll convince him if it’s the last thing I do,” Zhou Mi laughed. “He’s just shy, and he’s afraid that he’ll meet his soul mate.”
“I thought he wanted to meet his soul mate, more than anything.”
“Sure, he wants to meet him, but he’s afraid that his soul mate will reject him.”
Heechul felt an inexplicable anger bubble up in his chest. “And why would he think that?”
“He has one bad eye and one missing eye,” Zhou Mi shrugged. “Eyes are the windows to the soul, and it’s disconcerting for some people to look at him because he appears so closed off. It took me a good week to get used to it, but once you warm up to him you realize that he’s a good guy. Besides, I’m sure that Kyuhyun had told you about that study where the 2% of those who rejected their soul mates was due to physical and mental disabilities.”
Heechul snorted. “Having a bad eye and a missing eye hardly counts as a disability. If anything, the people who reject their soul mates without giving them a chance have disabilities.”
Zhou Mi blinked. “You know, Heechul, in all the years that I have known you, you have never said anything as romantic as that. Ever.”
Heechul snuck a glance at his Soul Mark and his heart softened by tenfold. “Well, Jungsu found his soul mate and now you have found yours. I guess seeing the two of you so happy is rubbing off on me.”
The Chinese man threw his arms around his friend and squeezed. “You’ll find him, I promise! When the time is right, you’ll find your soul mate!”
Heechul fought back the temptation to let Zhou Mi know that he already had.
epilogue i
Jungsu moved in with Youngwoon mere weeks after comparing Soul Marks, leaving Heechul alone to deal with the financial business of their flat.
(Actually, that was untrue. Jungsu had already paid two months of his lease in advance, which gave Heechul ample time to find a new roommate. Heechul just liked to over-dramatize things.)
They seldom argued, but whenever they did it was large-scale and could go on for weeks on end. One of the more serious arguments lasted five years. Around Christmas time, they would also fight about Youngwoon’s parents and whether or not Jungsu was invited to their annual Christmas party. Youngwoon had insisted that both of them would be better off having their own Christmas party in their own apartment, but Jungsu argued that it was better to get the awkward confrontation over with.
(It almost always ended in tears. “Are you ashamed of me?” Jungsu would sob, clutching his left wrist where Youngwoon’s name was embedded.
“Of course not,” Youngwoon replied, meaning it. “I just don’t want to spend Christmas being judged by my parents and their wealthy homophobic friends.”
“That’s what you said last year and the year before that! You can’t run away from it forever!”)
On their seventh year together, Youngwoon finally relented and Jungsu was introduced to the family. At the dinner table, Youngwoon’s father pointedly ignored Jungsu’s existence while his mother started talking about how she had found this lovely blank-wristed girl that you might like, sweetie, would you like her number?. Three smashed plates and a curt insincere apology later, Youngwoon and Jungsu were heading out the door and speeding away in their car.
Jungsu apologized for pushing them into a bad situation. Youngwoon apologized for his and his parents’ behavior. The incident was never brought up again-
(-until the year they decided that they were ready to have children. After months of paperwork and failed meetings with surrogate mothers, they decided to adopt a three-year-old boy named Ryeowook. Out of their small circle of friends, Han Geng was definitely the fondest of him and by extension Heechul came to love him like his own son.
Youngwoon had written back to his mother of the news, and she was surprisingly ecstatic and insisted on meeting the boy. Little Ryeowook essentially became the love of her life. Since then, she had finally stopped pushing Youngwoon into finding a girlfriend, and though she never became comfortable enough to really accept Jungsu as family, she at least realized that no other person could make her son happier.)
The death of Youngwoon’s father almost ended their relationship entirely. Although Youngwoon had been estranged from his father for over twenty years by then, the news of his death was still a hard blow. He took up drinking to keep his mind off of the situation, and more often than not he would return home in the wee hours of the morning with whiskey on his breath and a bottle of gin in his hand.
Jungsu handled it the best way he could and left his soul mate alone. He explained to young bright-eyed Ryeowook every night that Papa was just going through a rough time, everything will be fine, darling, I promise, your Papa still loves you, I promise. Whenever Ryeowook cried, Jungsu told him of the magic of soul mates and pointed to his left wrist where Kim Jongwoon was written in a quirky but smooth manner.
(“You see this?” Jungsu would say, delighting in the way the tears would stop almost immediately. “One day, you will meet Kim Jongwoon and realize that you can’t live without him.”
Ryeowook would smile and stroke lovingly at his Soul Mark, worries temporarily forgotten. “Just like you can’t live without Papa?”
Jungsu would will away the tears from his eyes. “Yes, just like I can’t live without Papa.”)
This lasted half a year, and despite Jungsu’s pleas and assurances, the situation stayed the same. It got to the point where Jungsu started making plans to leave Youngwoon and take Ryeowook with him to stay with Heechul until they had enough money to find their own place.
(It was Youngwoon’s mother who finally managed to knock some sense into her son. She slapped Youngwoon hard across the face, told him that he had a family to take care of, and that just last week Ryeowook had asked her why is Papa never home anymore, does he hate me, did I do anything wrong?.)
Once Youngwoon realized how badly he had shaken up his family, he never drank again, not even a glass of red wine on special occasions.
The dark times passed, and Youngwoon’s relationship with Ryeowook slowly rekindled. The boy grew up wonderfully, and Ryeowook eventually entered university as a music major and met his soul mate Jongwoon in his sophomore year.
The rest, they say, is history.
Kyuhyun was a realist. He made lists-only realists made list. And he loved statistical graphs-only realists loved statistical graphs.
But his realist views on relationships and life were kicked to the curb the moment Zhou Mi showed up on his doorstep at four thirty in the morning, so instead of thoughts like maybe we should wait a little or let’s get to know each other better before we make any big decisions, Kyuhyun’s brain was filled with get in my bed before my balls shrivel up and why do you still have clothes on? and variations thereof.
The worst part about it was that within the first five minutes of meeting him, Zhou Mi had already established that he was in it for the long run (if the I will love you until the end of time confession on bended knee was anything to go by).
Q: When your soul mate dropped a bomb of loving emotion on you, what in the world do you do?
A: Why, kiss him, of course.
But what should have been a very chaste romantic kiss turned very sinful very fast and to be perfectly honest, Kyuhyun’s sleep-deprived mind was really too happy to oblige.
Probably three handjobs and two and a half blowjobs later, they tacitly decided that yah, okay that was enough for now.
After spending a minute or two catching their breaths, Zhou Mi finally broke the haze that fogged the bedroom. “My name is Zhou Mi, I’m twenty-four years old, I am from Beijing, I was a waiter at a restaurant for snobby rich people and I hated everybody there except for Krystal and Amber, I love cooking, I hate spiders, I sing in the shower, I am technologically challenged, and I can’t drive to save my life.”
Kyuhyun listened, heart swelling with something akin to happiness.
Q: When your soul mate decides to tell you his whole life story, what do you do?
A: Why, kiss him, of course.
This kiss was chaste and romantic, and it made Kyuhyun blush right down to his roots. “My name is Cho Kyuhyun, I’m twenty-two years old, I have a big sister, I am doing my graduate degree on cell biology, I am a teaching assistant for a lower-level mathematics course and am probably the hardest marker in the history of teaching assistants, I love singing, I hate cooking, I play Starcraft, I need to get a haircut pronto, and I know every word to the lyrics of every Disney song.”
Zhou Mi laughed, a lovely high-pitched sound that contrasted with the somber darkness of Kyuhyun’s bedroom. “Well, we’re doing things positively backwards, aren’t we?”
“I’m not complaining.”
“Me neither.” Zhou Mi rolled on top of Kyuhyun and bent to kiss his bare chest. “But I had planned on making our first time together more romantic and memorable, if you know what I mean.”
Kyuhyun scoffed. “Zhou Mi, you showed up on my doorstep at four thirty in the morning, confessed your love to me on bended knee, and proceeded to deflower me for the next hour and a half. I don’t think that anything could be more romantic and memorable.”
Zhou Mi laughed again. Kyuhyun could have fallen in love with only his laugh if nothing else. “Well, if you put it that way.”
Just at that moment, at exactly seven o’clock, Kyuhyun’s clock went off.
Yo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want
So tell me what you want, what you really, really want
I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want
So tell me what you want, what you really, really want
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
Really, really wanna zigazig ha
Zhou Mi was choking on laughter by the time his soul mate had finally wiggled out from under him and reset the damn alarm. “Good morning,” he greeted, ribs aching with mirth.
“I’m never looking at you again,” Kyuhyun bit out, burying his face into the pillow in mortification. “Ever.”
“Yah, that’s going to work.”
“Shut up.”
Zhou Mi propped himself onto his elbow and exhaled happily. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s cute.”
“I’m not cute.”
A chuckle low in his voice, Zhou Mi pressed his lips between Kyuhyun’s shoulder blades. “Yes, you are.”
They stayed in bed for another few hours before getting up to take a shower. While Zhou Mi busied himself in the kitchen, Kyuhyun logged onto his laptop and saw an email from the head of the Mathematics department informing him that he had weekly office hours to attend and that it was irresponsible to be absent without prior notice, especially when it was so close to finals week.
Kyuhyun deleted the email and walked over to the counter where Zhou Mi was making something that smelled like roast chicken. He snaked his arms around his soul mate’s thin waist and sighed happily, chin resting comfortably on a bony shoulder. He was definitely not going to office hours today, no matter what his boss said.
Q: When your soul mate shows up at your doorstep at four o’clock in the morning, carries out the best-written love confession monologue on bended knee, and be revealed to be ridiculously good in bed, what do you do?
A: Why, kiss him, of course.
Dear Heechul,
I am on a plane to Korea as of right now. I am petrified, to say the least. I know that it is a long shot, but what if I meet you there? What if, out of the blue, I suddenly find myself face to face with you and I blow it because I act like a fool? Maybe I’ll accidentally say something offensive. Maybe I’ll butcher a Korean word.
It weighs heavily in my heart. Zhou Mi told me that he had met his soul mate and that it was the happiest moment in his life. I do not doubt that meeting you will also be my happiest moment-what I worry about is that it won’t be yours.
There is much I want to tell you, but I am too much of a coward regardless of my desires.
I love you. Is that presumptuous?
Han Geng
epilogue ii
Ten percent of all soul mates split up. Thirty-five percent of all soul mates think of splitting up.
Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi were neither the ten percent nor the thirty-five percent, which means that they don’t get an interesting epilogue.
(Sure, they had arguments, but if I were to document their worst quarrel, it would have been something like this:
“Kyuhyun, if you keep staring at that computer, you’ll eyes will shrivel up and you will die.”
“Give me five minutes. I’m killing Zergs.”
“You know, I’m starting to think that you like your computer more than you like me.”
Kyuhyun shut down his computer immediately and therein ended that argument.)
so they lived happily ever after
Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi hosted their housewarming party on a rainy Thursday evening and invited every friend they knew in town. Youngwoon brought the wine, Heechul brought the cheese, and a lovely girl from Zhou Mi’s childhood town named Victoria had baked enough chocolate chip cookies to feed an army. It was a quaint little party, and the six people who arrived filled the flat comfortably.
Heechul, for one, was having a fabulous time chatting with Victoria over a glass of red wine. He knew exactly why she was one of Zhou Mi’s closest friends, and was impressed with her astounding ability to hold a conversation notwithstanding the language barrier. They mostly conversed through sign language and broken Korean-Chinese words, but within the first five minutes of meeting each other they had developed a way of fluent communication.
(“You fly to Korea,” Heechul said in Korean, imitating bird wings and pointing to his general surroundings. He pointed to his watch. “How long?”
“I’ve been here since last night at around one in the morning,” Victoria replied in her lovely Chinese, holding up her pointer finger. She feigned a big yawn. “Very tired from the trip.”
Eventually, the flow of words became natural and the effect of strong wine made their minds more flexible. From topics that ranged from denim to restaurants to modeling, they ultimately came to the topic of love, and Victoria showed Heechul her blank wrists without any hesitation. “I’m not sad,” she said, though her smile spoke differently. “Being blank-wristed means that I don’t need anybody to else to complete me. It means that I am fine on my own.”
Heechul stared at those blank wrists and immediately grasped his own. “I can’t imagine.”
Victoria laughed. “I think of it as Destiny’s way of telling me that I can find a soul mate of my own, one who I love without needing a Soul Mark. There are plenty of blank-wristed men and women out there. Most people don’t know that, but you can always find one if you look hard enough. If I wanted to, I can just put myself out there and find somebody wonderful to settle down with if I so chose.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I guess I just don’t need to. Not now, at least.”
Heechul ran his thumb over his Soul Mark and smiled. “You’re very strong.”
“So I’ve been told,” Victoria winked.)
At ten o’clock, Zhou Mi had to head off to the airport to pick up some friends of his from China who were visiting him for the weekend. He came back within the hour with three new faces. One was an elegant lady with perfect skin and skinny legs, and on her arm was an androgynous woman who Heechul only deduced was female from the mascara applied on her eyelashes with a precision most commonly found in practiced female hands.
The last to enter the flat was a tall tense figure that looked more like a shadow than a man. His shoulders were hunched and uncomfortable and his limbs moved calculatingly. He held a white cane in his hand. His jaw was firm, and his mouth was set to a grim line. Lines were etched onto his face-the man frowned too much, he probably did not find enough reasons to smile.
Heechul wanted to change that, and extricated himself from his conversation with Victoria to make his way towards the half-blind man standing near the door. The man had sensitive ears, and when Heechul was three steps away he had already heard somebody approaching and lifted his gaze. The missing eye would have stopped Heechul in his tracks if his heart had not already been beating so hard.
“Hi,” he started out, a bit stupidly to his own ears. “You must be Han Geng.”
The man nodded. His missing eye was a distortion of skin stretched out too far. His good eye was glazed over, shielded.
“Do you understand Korean?”
Han Geng’s lips twitched. “I speak it fluently,” he replied, voice low and hoarse.
Heechul giggled nervously. Oh, Heechul, you sly dog you. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Zhou Mi,” he babbled. “Good things,” he added hastily.
“Zhou Mi never speaks ill of anybody,” Han Geng replied solemnly.
“That’s good! So does he tell you good things about his friends in Korea?”
“I’ve asked him not to tell me.”
Heechul’s nervous smile fell. “Why?”
“It’s personal.” The way he involuntarily rubbed at his left wrist spoke the words left unsaid.
It was if Heechul’s heart was being ripped out of him. He really doesn’t want to meet me, he thought to himself, forlorn. He doesn’t want to meet me. He realized that his hands were shaking and he curled them into fists. He felt sick. “Oh. Okay.”
“Oh Heechul!” came Zhou Mi’s cheerful voice as he made his way towards them from the other side of the room. Heechul had never wanted to murder him more than in that moment and he averted his gaze to stare at his very expensive shoes. “I see you’ve met Han Geng!”
Han Geng’s head snapped upwards, and for a moment the redhead thought that he might run away-he looked almost scared. (Zhou Mi seemed oblivious to their silent conversation, and chattered about how Heechul knows everything about everybody and how Han Geng is an amazing dancer, show him a few moves! and that Han Geng, you must meet Kyuhyun, my soul mate.) But then Han Geng smiled, nice to meet you, and it was the most glorious sight Heechul had ever seen. All of his worries and troubles melted away and Heechul knew.
“Zhou Mi,” Heechul cut his friend off in the middle of his endless you two should be friends! spiel. “Kyuhyun looks like he’s having trouble with the stove. Maybe you should help him.”
“Oh goodness, you’re right!” Zhou Mi cried, half-horrified half-amused at the sight of his soul mate frantically trying to figure out what all the dial buttons did. “Excuse me!”
And once Zhou Mi was safely out of the vicinity, Heechul turned his attention back to his soul mate and this wave of happiness washed over him, leaving him close to breathless. “I’m Heechul,” he said lamely, and blinked at his blunder. “Wait, you already know that. God, I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this. It’s just so, so wonderful to meet you at last.” Heechul blushed and breathed out a nervous laugh. “I sound ridiculous, don’t I?”
Han Geng lightly brushed his knuckles against Heechul’s cheek, smile never leaving his face. His left eye was not glazed over anymore-it was a clear dark brown, revealing something bright and beautiful. “Can I talk to you?” In private?
Heechul nodded silently. His smile hurt his face but he was too happy to care.
After Zhou Mi managed to save his chicken from being burnt to crisp, he caught a glimpse out the kitchen window of his two best friends ambling down the street, fingers entwined, eyes locked in each other. Realization dawned upon him and he laughed so loud that Kyuhyun had asked him if he was okay (which made him laugh harder). Zhou Mi flung his long arms around his soul mate and kissed him until he was slack-jawed and flushed to his roots.
“I’m fine, Kyuhyun. Just really, really happy.”
epilogue iii
The night they met, Han Geng and Heechul spent three hours talking incessantly. Han Geng had never felt more happy and guilty in his life. The darkness of the streets made it so that he had to walk slower just in case his white cane failed to inform him of a sidewalk curb. On the other hand, he talked more in those three hours than he did in a month, and he found himself hanging onto every word Heechul-beautiful fiery Heechul, his beautiful fiery Heechul!-indulged him with.
Heechul could not have been more perfect. There was no possible way. Heechul was beautiful, charismatic, so full of love that Han Geng was almost breathless with awe. There was no sign of pity in Heechul’s eyes when he asked about his missing eye, and because of that, Han Geng found himself more than willing to talk about how his blindness had given him unwanted special treatment, no driver’s license, and a considerably short list of career choices.
After this long and lengthy monologue, Heechul was silent for a minute before breaking into a coy grin. “Well, look at the bright side. No driver’s license means no driver’s license photo.”
Han Geng blinked once, twice, and then broke into the first giggling fit he had had in years.
(Scratch that, Heechul was not only perfect, he was godsend.)
With Heechul’s constant pestering, Han Geng finally worked up the nerve to apply as a dance instructor at the nearest institution, and was almost beside himself in happiness when he was accepted for an interview. Heechul took him on a shopping spree and Han Geng quietly tolerated being told to try on what felt like millions of suits until his soul mate was satisfied. They decided on the classic black, and Han Geng would never forget how Heechul had kissed him and whispered that “it brings out your eye.”
Han Geng landed the job and wondered what he had done to deserve such happiness.
(Eventually, he stopped wondering and started living.)
Heechul should not have been surprised that Han Geng was old-fashioned. The Chinese man liked the simple things-handwritten letters, warm fireplaces, walks in the park, feeding pigeons and the like. Kyuhyun called him a prude. Zhou Mi called him a naturalist. Heechul honestly had no name for it-he just thought it was adorable.
Han Geng went out of his way to be the perfect boyfriend, and as a result there were romantic candlelit dinners, long walks along the beach, slow dancing to bluesy jazz music, and a lot of cuddling on the porch while watching the sunset. Probably Heechul’s favorite was the one night Han Geng surprised him by throwing rocks at his apartment window and proceeding to serenade him an old Chinese love song that Han Geng’s mother sang to him every night before he went to bed.
Unfortunately, being old-fashioned also meant being willing to wait until the perfect moment. Heechul was nothing if impatient, and after nearly a month doing absolutely nothing but soft hand-holding and quick chaste kissing, he was starting to become frustrated. Come on, even Kyuhyun was getting laid!
(“Maybe he doesn’t want to have sex,” Jungsu shrugged. “Asexuality does exist, you know. God knows I don’t understand it, but it could be a possibility.”
“If he were asexual, he wouldn’t have a Soul Mark.”
“Untrue,” Kyuhyun drawled from his desk on the other side of the room, eyes fixed on his computer that was making soft pew pew pew sounds. “Soul Marks just mark individuals as each other’s enzymatic fits. There have been cases where twins share Soul Marks, platonic friends share Soul Marks, or a mother and her daughter share Soul Marks, or one person has more than one name as their Soul Mark. The recent studies show that nearly twenty-five percent of all Soul Marks are not of the sexual nature.”
“So you’re saying that I may be one of those twenty-five percent who will practice abstinence their whole life?”
“I didn’t say that; I said that your relationship may not entail sexual attraction. Asexual people are completely able to engage in sexual activities. I’m just saying that you will probably never turn him on.”
Heechul glowered. “Wow, Kyuhyun, wow. That’s so uplifting.”)
Luckily for Heechul, it turned out that Han Geng was not asexual-he was just rightfully inexperienced, unreasonably nervous, and painfully shy. Once he had overcome his hesitancy, Han Geng turned out to be an extremely considerate lover. On top of being gentle to the point of fault, his inability to see made him more observant-he seemed to know Heechul’s body better than Heechul himself. It was delightful.
Heechul was remarkably happy. He could not have asked for any better. In the entirety of their relationship, he had never thought of leaving Han Geng, ever. It was unfathomable-he could hardly remember life without him anymore, how in the world did he live back in those pre-Han Geng days? Heechul loved waking up with his arm splayed over his soul mate’s chest, and getting those shy sweet voice messages (Han Geng was a prude who hated texting) that never failed to make him smile for the rest of the day at work.
If there was one aspect he hated about their relationship, it would have been all the apologies. Han Geng apologized constantly, if not orally, then through his body language. The man was tense whenever they were in public, all stiff limbs and tight jaw and knitted eyebrows. Heechul wanted nothing more than to shake him-you are my soul mate, you are beautiful because I say so, screw anybody who thinks otherwise, why can’t you see that?.
The worst was when Han Geng squeezed his left eye shut as if trying to hide from the world, making his beautiful features taut with guilt. This usually happened late in night with Heechul curled tight against him. “Sometimes I am afraid,” he would whisper, voice meek and sheepish, “that this all is a dream and that I’ll wake up.” It made Heechul’s blood boil with rage.
(“I would never leave you. You know that.”
“I’m sorry.”
Heechul slapped him straight across the cheek, too angry to do much else. “You’re apologizing for all the wrong reasons.”)
When Han Geng finally went blind at the age of forty, he fell into an almost-suicidal depression. He was forced to resign from his job, stopped eating, and was sometimes completely silent for days on end. Heechul could yell and scream and pull at his hair, all to no avail-Han Geng just sat in his armchair and continued to stare blankly at the wall. Zhou Mi visited often during those first few weeks, and usually it consisted of one-sided conversations and soft urges to come back, Han Geng, please, let me help you. The one person he made any effort to communicate with was little Ryeowook-small and yet monumental smiles that brought him back to life.
(“Look, Uncle Han Geng!” Ryeowook cried, handing him the picture he drew with his crayons. There were three stick figures. “It’s you and me and Uncle Heechul!”
Han Geng ran his fingertips across the white sheet and blinked slowly. The smell of Crayola was strong in the air. “It’s a beautiful picture.”)
“Han Geng, you prat!” Heechul screamed one day after he had gone more than three hours filling up the pregnant silence between them with nonsensical ramblings about how his day went. “Just stop feeling sorry for yourself! I know you’re blind, but to tell you the absolute truth, I don’t care. You could be deaf and in a wheelchair and have Down’s syndrome and I wouldn’t care.”
And when Han Geng didn’t respond and just kept staring at the wall, Heechul felt a hotness behind his eyes that he hadn’t felt since he had fell from a tree when he was six years old. The tears ran down his face and within seconds his sleeve was drenched. “You jerk,” he sobbed, voice sore and cracked. He fell to the floor beside his unresponsive soul mate and rested his head against Han Geng’s kneecap. “You jerk! I know you can hear me!”
A wave of insurmountable relief filled his chest when he felt long bony fingers card through his red hair. “Do you mean it?” Four words that held a million questions.
Heechul swallowed back the thickness in his throat and nodded. “Every word.”
(It was true. Heechul did not mind in the slightest. In fact, there were perks to having a blind soul mate. Everything Han Geng could not see, he touched, and more often than not Heechul would catch him running his hands over his left wrist. Their long walks were delightful in that Han Geng held the crook of Heechul’s elbow as they walked. Heechul found himself loving the overwhelming amount of trust that was placed on him as they ambled through the park with Han Geng’s cane only half-heartedly searching his path.
Nearing Heechul’s fiftieth birthday, Han Geng finally took out all the letters he had written during his pre-Heechul days and trusted his soul mate to read them if he so chose. Heechul spent the next day and a half reading through nearly a hundred letters, from the ones where Han Geng was just learning Korean to the most recent ones where the kanji looked like it was written by a native speaker. Although angry that his soul mate had decided to hide that part of himself for all the years they were together, each written word made Heechul fall a little more in love and his anger quickly dissipated. He never threw those letters away, and for the rest of his life he had read them so often that he had practically had every word memorized.
(They became Heechul’s sunlight during the rainy days, solace in his times of need. They were a reminder that he was never alone, even when Han Geng passed away in his sleep at the age of sixty-three.)
the one true epilogue
Ryeowook loved photographs, and his room was always decorated with little Polaroid pictures that piled one on top of another to form a collage of memories and smiles. Most of them were of Jongwoon-Jongwoon with his turtle, Jongwoon performing his graduation recital, Jongwoon falling off a swing meant for a five-year-old-and Ryeowook would have it no other way.
He also had many pictures of his parents which told the story of their relationship from when they first met to their last photo together.
However, he only had one photo of his entire extended family. It was the one of Ryeowook’s high school graduation, where he was smiling with his oversized graduation hat as everybody clustered together to fit into the photo frame. Jungsu’s eyes were red and swollen from crying so much. Heechul had missed a day of work to attend. Han Geng had his face tilted so that the camera would not catch his missing eye. Kyuhyun was wearing a plain t-shirt despite Zhou Mi’s wholehearted efforts to get him to dress up for the event. Krystal, Amber, and Victoria stood near the front to “add a feminine touch” (although Krystal had teased Zhou Mi that he had enough of a feminine touch as it was).
Ryeowook smiled and wiped the dust off of the picture frame. He could not have asked for a better life.
Pairing(s): QMi, KangTeuk, HanChul, side!KryBer
Genre(s): Romance, soul mate AU
Length: ~17k
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which the name of one’s true love is written on a person’s wrist.
Inspiration(s): I got the idea from the TV show My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic, believe it or not. When ponies realize their talents, they get something called a Cutie Mark, which is a symbol on a pony’s flank. Those who do not have Cutie Marks are called Blank Flanks. The jumpiness of the narrative is from Love Actually, which just cuts from scene to scene. Beta'ed by jojibear - thank you so much!
```
Jungsu was never leaving his bedroom again. Ever.
After realizing what they had done, Jungsu had all but shoved Kangin out of his shop and locked the entrance before taking refuge in the storage room in hopes of wrapping his head around all of it. Once the banging on his flower shop door stopped (Jungsu, open the door, please let me explain, I love you, don’t lock me out, please!) and Jungsu was absolutely sure Kangin had given up, he grabbed his bag, hastily put away the flowers, and closed his shop early.
And from then until the next morning, Jungsu was sprawled underneath his bed covers, just staring at his Soul Mark. Kim Youngwoon.
Heechul had already checked on him three times, breaking their tacit rule that no roommate should step across the border unless absolutely necessary. (But then again, Heechul had implied that a half-dead half-shell-shocked Jungsu definitely fell under the absolutely necessary category).
Jungsu took three days off before he realized that without work taking up most of his time, there was honestly nothing else to do but read John Locke and mope around the apartment. Plus, there was no way he was going to avoid Kangin forever-might as well get it over with before it got even more out of hand. So eventually he found himself back in his flower shop, heart cracking a bit at the sight of some of his withered flowers.
After getting everything sorted out, he flipped the CLOSED sign over to show the OPEN sign, and then he busied himself with the newest order of Magnolias, carefully handling them so as not to disrupt the delicate petals.
Within half an hour, he heard a creak of the door and familiar footsteps. Jungsu swallowed. “Hi Kangin,” he greeted in a falsely cheerful voice, hoping that he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.
“You were away for three days,” Kangin stated curtly, straight to the point. His voice was professionally masked, almost practiced. Jungsu envied that.
“Yes. Yes, I was.”
“I’m sorry that I upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me.”
“Clearly, I did.”
“It was a mistake, that’s all.”
“It was not a mistake. I meant to kiss you.”
Jungsu swallowed and took several deep breaths. Well, that didn’t help at all. “You also said something three days ago, after I locked you out.”
He could hear Kangin’s shoes shuffle. “What did I say?”
“You said that you loved me.”
“I do.”
Jungsu turned around to face the taller man, eyes sad with longing. “No, you don’t.” He took Kangin’s left wrist and ran his fingers over the broad watch covering where his Soul Mark would be. “Somewhere out there, your soul mate is waiting for you to find him. So is mine. I care about you, and much as it pains me to say it, I do love you-that’s why I don’t want you to settle for second-best.”
Kangin’s eyes flashed. “Do you really think that is what you are? Second-best?”
“I’m not the man whose name is written on your wrist, Kangin.”
“My name is not Kangin.”
Jungsu froze.
With a shaky huff, the man stripped off his wristwatch and held it up beside his face. In the place of black leather, there was a streak of red angry blisters enclosing a single name written in white. “My name is Kim Youngwoon, and my soul mate’s name is Park Jungsu. He is standing right in front of me.”
Kyuhyun probably should have made a Things To Learn Before Moving Out Of Parents’ Basement list. Because as it turned out, cooking was one of those things. Making instant noodles had seemed so easy when his big sister had done it for him, but one burnt pot and an overheated stove later, he was starting to realize that this was not the case.
So he took out his Things I Should Do Before Meeting Zhou Mi list and added learn to cook at the bottom.
He sighed heavily and blew his bangs out of his eyes. He had yet to get that haircut.
Because he was bored and the house was much too quiet than he was accustomed to, he made another list.
What I Hope Zhou Mi Will Be Like
- shorter than me
- has the longest and best-shaped legs
- smiles at only me all the time
- has a beautiful voice but not more beautiful than mine
- makes me laugh
- can cook
- blushes easily
- splits the bill without question
- won’t laugh at the fact that I just can’t bear to throw away my Spice Girls CD
- likes all my friends, but likes me most
- finds me perfect in every single way
- won’t find me boring
Kyuhyun looked at the last one and rubbed at his temples. Good god, he was going to have the hardest time with that.
He looked over at his desks where three stacks of ungraded trigonometry tests were placed, and groaned. There was nothing interesting about him. All of the people he knew were interesting. His sister studied in Australia and had a photo of her holding a baby kangaroo in her arms. His dad was an astronomer. His mother was a piano teacher and former international competition winner. Jungsu was a florist and could name every flower from the Western hemisphere both by its common name as well as its scientific name. Heechul was Heechul-that in itself was interesting.
Kyuhyun was, well, just Kyuhyun.
What’s worse, he couldn’t even considered good-looking, at least not in the traditional sense. He did not have abs or biceps or a strong jaw or great hair or a charming smile or an open sense of humor or an English accent. Nope, he was stuck with his flabby stomach, skinny arms, a sunken jaw, floppy locks, an awkward smile at best, anti-socialness, and no English accent. Granted, Kyuhyun had sexy dark eyes-the chicks loved sexy dark eyes, didn’t they?-but they were always covered up by his godforsaken hair.
(Note to self, man up and get that damn haircut.)
He opened up his laptop and went onto Google, where he looked up Top Ten Manliest Hobbies
The first one that came up was travel. Seriously? How in the world would he be able to save enough money to travel at the rate he was going?
The second one that came up was sports, especially martial arts and football and hockey. Kyuhyun immediately crossed those options in his mind. The last time he had done any sort of strenuous physical activity, it was in high school in gym class where he got a black eye from a very well-aimed rugby ball.
Next was ballroom dancing. Which was just, like, no. Kyuhyun was a lot of things, but Fred Astaire wasn’t one of them.
Cooking also came up, and Kyuhyun groaned. Yah, he was going to have to start on that one, stat.
He gave up when the website listed camping because Kyuhyun had never understood the point of stranding yourself out in the wilderness when you had a perfectly good roof over your head and less chance of a grizzly bear tearing your arm off. There were some scary statistics of grizzly bear attacks a while back, actually; Kyuhyun had to wonder if it was accurate or not but he didn’t want to take any chances.
And that was how Kyuhyun came to the very sad but very true conclusion that in addition to being boring, he was also very unmanly.
Great.
Kyuhyun sighed and crossed out won’t find me boring from the list. That was setting the standard much too high. He replaced it with will tolerate my boringness. That sounded a lot more doable.
My dear Heechul,
Zhou Mi left yesterday in the middle of the night telling me that he had found his soul mate. Whether or not this is true, I know not, and part of me is sad to see him go. I want nothing more than to see Zhou Mi find his soul mate-god knows that he more than deserves it-but the realization that he may leave and never return pains me to no end. Does that make me selfish?
I know that I continue to write this in all my letters, but it is the raw truth that there is nothing that I would love more than to meet you, Heechul. Even if you decide not to stay with me, grant me one selfish request that I at least have the chance to meet with you-perhaps even talk to you, get to know all about you, fall completely in love with you.
My hand is shaking as I write this letter, but I feel that this is long overdue.
When I was born, the doctors told my mother than I would never be able to see from my right eye-because I had no right eye. I was born with skin covered over that part of my face. My left eye is weak but still functional, which is a miracle in itself. People take vision for granted. For me, it is a privilege. As I get older, my left eye will become weaker and weaker. Eventually, when I am older, I will not be able to see at all.
It is not that I assume that you will find me ugly at first glance. (Something tells me that you are anything but superficial.) My main worry is that you’ll regret being with me. I attract peoples’ attention. I gain sympathetic glances.
Undoubtedly, people will talk. They will say things like ‘what is that beautiful man doing with that cripple?’ Will you be able to endure them? Will you be able to carry that burden? I have a feeling that you will, which is what troubles me. If you are the wonderful person that I am sure you are, you deserve better than to settle for somebody like me. I walk with a cane, I sometimes knock things over by accident, I can barely read some days when my eye is too sore to even be opened.
Therein presents another problem. I will become completely blind by the time I turn sixty. This is more of a personal grievance of mine. As time passes, my eyesight will fade, and my greatest fear is that I will never be able to see you when I meet you. And even if I do, I will never be able to see you grow old. I won’t be able to see your first grey hair or your first wrinkle.
Please show yourself soon, while I still have enough strength in my left eye.
With all my love,
Han Geng
Zhou Mi was a romantic, but he was also impatient. Once Heechul had picked him up, he had asked to be driven to Kyuhyun’s house immediately. His heart was about to burst-his soul mate was near, he was sure of it!
“Zhou Mi,” Heechul groaned, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “It is bloody four in the morning. Can this wait until after I get my beauty sleep?”
“Heechul, please,” Zhou Mi pleaded, grabbing his friend by the shoulders in an iron grip. “Please, just trust me this one time, I’m begging you.”
Heechul gave him a look and sighed. He could never say no to his favorite shopping spree partner. “Fine. Kyuhyun’s probably up anyways. He usually stays up late playing his dumb computer games.”
Zhou Mi whooped and pulled Heechul into a tackle-bear-hug. “Thank you, Heechul. Thank you so much.”
And that was how Heechul found himself half-asleep and driving his hyperactive Chinese friend to Kyuhyun’s flat. “You’re so lucky you’re pretty,” he grumbled as he maneuvered the streets, cursing under his breath at every red light they hit.
To pass the time, Zhou Mi did what he did best and started to talk. He updated Heechul about the newest fashion trends (knitted bowties are back in this year), the grueling work hours that were only tolerable whenever Krystal and Amber were customers, how his parents had adopted a dog after it had been found half-starved on their porch, how worried he was about Han Geng-
“Han Geng?” Heechul started in his seat, suddenly completely awake. “Who’s Han Geng? You’ve never told me about Han Geng?”
“Oh, he’s a friend of mine,” the man replied easily. “Nicest guy ever, but so self-depreciating that you can’t help but want to shake him sometimes.”
“Is that so?”
“Yah,” Zhou Mi sighed. “I’m worried about him. He lives all alone and has no immediate family. For all I know, I am probably his only friend outside of work.”
“What does he do?” Heechul asked, trying not to sound too interested.
“He works for an insurance company. He hates it, though. Too much paperwork and a lot of paper cuts.”
“Then why does he do it?”
“Medical bills.”
Heechul jumped in horror. “Oh my god, is he okay?”
Zhou Mi laughed. “Oh, no, he’s perfectly healthy! It’s just that being half-blind is sort of expensive. Are we almost there?”
Heechul cursed his luck. Kyuhyun’s flat was just around the corner. The question what do you mean ‘half-blind’? was left unsaid and he pulled up against the curb. “Yah, we’re here. I’ll walk you in.”
Zhou Mi was out of the car before Heechul killed the engine. “No, I’ll go myself. What’s the room number?”
“Room 532, fifth floor.”
The Chinese man power-walked towards the building entrance and pressed the elevator button incessantly until the doors opened. After pressing the ‘5’ button, he tried to keep still and listened to the crappy elevator music, all but pulling the doors apart as he had finally arrived at the correct floor. He sprinted around the hallways and skimmed the room numbers (520, 522, 524, 526, almost there, almost there), heart swelling at the sight of Room 532.
Quickly he caught his breath and knocked on the door. A soft curse came from behind the door but Zhou Mi was too happy to feel guilty.
A disheveled young man in a wife beater and Angry Birds pajama bottoms answered, and Zhou Mi’s breath caught. Early twenties at most, dark yet mischievous eyes, thin figure, adorable pseudo bowl cut.
“May I help you?”
Zhou Mi swallowed, not even bothering to fight off the Cheshire cat smile on his face. “Are you Kyuhyun? Cho Kyuhyun?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, and who are you?”
Zhou Mi rolled his sleeve up and held out his left wrist. “My name is Zhou Mi. I believe you are my soul mate.”
They stood there for what seemed like hours before Kyuhyun finally managed to regain his voice. He was blushing; it was delightful. “Would you like to come in?”
Zhou Mi let out a breath that he did not know he was holding. “Yes.”
Jungsu had no idea whether he should have been ecstatic or furious, so he did what he did best and started chatting about the history of cherry blossoms.
“A cherry blossom is a flower found on trees of genus Prunus. The most common one, I would think, is found on the sakura tree, Prunus serrulata, and they are white to pink in clusters of five petals.”
“Jungsu-”
“The Prunus serrulata also bears fruit, did you know that?” Jungsu continued, quickly cutting off anything Youngwoon was about to say. “Very beautiful fruit, actually, little black cherries.”
“Jungsu-”
“The cherry blossom is often used in a lot of festivals, as most people probably know already from all the movies and Japanese anime out there. Hanami festivals, for instance, date back to the third century, and are festivals that celebrate the beauty of cherry blossoms and provide the opportunity to relax and enjoy the view.”
“Jungsu-”
“Symbolism is also prominent in this flower. In Japan, they serve as a metaphor for the ephemeral nature of life because they are flowers of beauty but also of quick death after the short blossoming period has ended. They also symbolize clouds because they bloom in clusters. Fun fact: during the Second World War, the cherry blossom was used as motivation and propaganda for the Japanese people and inspired nationalistic spirit.”
“Jungsu!” Youngwoon shouted, regretting raising his voice when he saw the florist wince. “Sorry. Just listen to me, okay?”
Jungsu shook his head. “Not right now, Kangin-Youngwoon. I still have to wrap my head around all this. It’s just such a shock, and it was unfair of you to lie to me like that.” A hot blush found its way onto Jungsu’s face when he realized the implications, and he buried his face into his hands. “My god, if I had known that you were my soul mate, I would have never told you about my philosophy classes. You must think that I'm such an idiot!”
“You are not an idiot,” Youngwoon assured softly. “In fact, you’re quite the opposite. I was touched when you told me. You were working really hard for me, and it made me so happy to know that I was worth that much to you.”
Jungsu felt tears at the corners of his eyes. “Everything I did, I did with you in mind.”
“I know.”
“You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me from the start. It’s been months and you had plenty of opportunities to fess up but you didn’t.”
Youngwoon hung his head. “I know.”
And Jungsu took in the sight with reluctant pity. He was used to seeing Youngwoon have this proud jut in his chin and confidence in his steps, but the Youngwoon in front of him stood uncomfortably, eyes downcast and weary. He sighed in defeat. “Do you regret it?” he asked.
“Yes,” came the immediate answer.
And Jungsu smiled coyly, dark feelings dissipating as the sun shone in his heart. “Then are you willing to spend the rest of your life making up for it?”
Youngwoon’s eyes widened and within the next minute the two of them were struck by a fit of giggles. Too happy to care about anything else, Youngwoon hoisted his soul mate into the air and twirled around, kissing him breathless. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you-”
Spending time with two friends was normal. Spending time with two friends who were coincidentally significant others was pushing it. Spending time with two friends who were coincidentally significant others, both of whom were constantly touching each other’s Soul Marks and having eye-sex with each other, definitely did not fall under Heechul’s category of a Good Time.
(“Get a room,” Heechul grumbled as he watched Zhou Mi press a long kiss to Kyuhyun’s throat.
Kyuhyun had the decency to blush. Zhou Mi just grinned. “Oh come on, Heechul, can’t you be happy for me?” Zhou Mi whined in his accented Korean.
“Don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled that the two of you are happy,” the barista rolled his eyes. “Just do me a huge favor and go be happy somewhere else. Preferably, you should go somewhere that does not make the people around you gag on their breakfast.”
Zhou Mi grinned harder. “Speaking of gagging, have I told you about how Kyuhyun has pretty much no gag reflex whatsoever?”
“Zhou Mi!” a scandalized Kyuhyun hissed at the same time Heechul covered his ears and cried “Ew, too much information!”)
When Zhou Mi left to go to the bathroom, Heechul seized this chance to talk to Kyuhyun. Despite his cruel words and tactless remarks, he did care about the younger man. “You like Zhou Mi,” he stated the obvious, amused at the way Kyuhyun’s eyes glazed over at the mention of his soul mate’s name.
“Understatement,” the graduate student replied, sipping on the last of his soy latte.
“Is he everything you wanted him to be?”
“No. He’s better.” Kyuhyun pulled out his black notebook and flipped to the page titled Things I Love About Zhou Mi. It was thus far ten pages long, single-spaced. “Though I’m slightly bitter about how he’s taller than me. I read in a statistical journal that men who are six feet or taller make an average of nearly one thousand dollars more per year than those two inches shorter.”
Heechul laughed. “Well, if it makes you feel better, he thinks you are adorable.”
The student made a noncommittal sound but there was a shy smile on his face.
“Zhou Mi has been one of my best friends for a long time,” Heechul said. “In some ways, he’s even closer to me than Jungsu is. I asked him out once, but before you freak out, he declined because he’s romantic like that. Hell-bent on saving himself for The One, you know.” Heechul set aside his dishcloth and leaned forward so that Kyuhyun’s face was just inches from his own. “So here’s the deal: you hurt him, I’ll rip your face off, put a bullet through your laptop, and burn all those damn lists you made. Not necessarily in that order.”
Kyuhyun blinked. “Deal.”
Zhou Mi returned less than a minute later, and Heechul spent the rest of their time together retelling all of Kyuhyun’s embarrassing stories (i.e. light-saber boxers) and babbling about Zhou Mi’s less-than-dignified moments (i.e. drunk karaoke). Spending time with two friends who were coincidentally significant others by embarrassing the utter crap out of them totally fell under Heechul’s category of a Good Time.
Zhou Mi hung out at Heechul’s apartment when Kyuhyun was busy grading tests, and they got each other up to speed with their lives and discussed some jobs that Zhou Mi could apply for. Sometimes, Zhou Mi talked about Han Geng and Heechul hung onto every word.
(“-we met in university, when I had already graduated and was just taking courses for fun, and we became friends because we both had Soul Marks written in Korean-”
“-he used to be a dancer, almost went professional but his eye made it hard for him to see his location on the stage-”
“-he has low self-esteem, but he’s honestly one of the kindest people I have ever met-”
“-I had to drive him to a hospital once when his eye was acting up; had quite a scare that night, the doctor told him that he almost went totally blind-”
“-he’s an amazing singer, too, and he sometimes sings when he thinks I’m not listening-”
“-he never says it, but I know that he wants nothing more than to meet his soul mate-”
“-he has a soft spot for children, and even the shiest ones open up to him in the end; I think it is because he himself was a shy child so he knows exactly how to get them out of their shells-”)
Those tiny tidbits of information kept Heechul’s hopes high. Han Geng sounded perfect-he was perfect. God, he wanted to meet him.
“You should invite him over,” Heechul hazarded one day when Zhou Mi was prattling about the pain-in-the-ass workload that Han Geng suffered through each week. “He seems like he needs a break.”
Zhou Mi sighed. “No kidding. I’ve been trying to invite him over ever since I got here. I wanted him to meet you and Kyuhyun. The guy’s a workaholic at times. He once stayed up three days in a row to finish up a project that got scrapped at the end.”
Heechul’s heart sank. “That’s too bad.”
“I’m planning on asking him to visit sometime next month, though. I know for a fact that he has a two-week break during that time and his bonus will be enough for an airplane ticket here.”
Heechul brightened. “Will he come?”
“I’ll convince him if it’s the last thing I do,” Zhou Mi laughed. “He’s just shy, and he’s afraid that he’ll meet his soul mate.”
“I thought he wanted to meet his soul mate, more than anything.”
“Sure, he wants to meet him, but he’s afraid that his soul mate will reject him.”
Heechul felt an inexplicable anger bubble up in his chest. “And why would he think that?”
“He has one bad eye and one missing eye,” Zhou Mi shrugged. “Eyes are the windows to the soul, and it’s disconcerting for some people to look at him because he appears so closed off. It took me a good week to get used to it, but once you warm up to him you realize that he’s a good guy. Besides, I’m sure that Kyuhyun had told you about that study where the 2% of those who rejected their soul mates was due to physical and mental disabilities.”
Heechul snorted. “Having a bad eye and a missing eye hardly counts as a disability. If anything, the people who reject their soul mates without giving them a chance have disabilities.”
Zhou Mi blinked. “You know, Heechul, in all the years that I have known you, you have never said anything as romantic as that. Ever.”
Heechul snuck a glance at his Soul Mark and his heart softened by tenfold. “Well, Jungsu found his soul mate and now you have found yours. I guess seeing the two of you so happy is rubbing off on me.”
The Chinese man threw his arms around his friend and squeezed. “You’ll find him, I promise! When the time is right, you’ll find your soul mate!”
Heechul fought back the temptation to let Zhou Mi know that he already had.
epilogue i
Jungsu moved in with Youngwoon mere weeks after comparing Soul Marks, leaving Heechul alone to deal with the financial business of their flat.
(Actually, that was untrue. Jungsu had already paid two months of his lease in advance, which gave Heechul ample time to find a new roommate. Heechul just liked to over-dramatize things.)
They seldom argued, but whenever they did it was large-scale and could go on for weeks on end. One of the more serious arguments lasted five years. Around Christmas time, they would also fight about Youngwoon’s parents and whether or not Jungsu was invited to their annual Christmas party. Youngwoon had insisted that both of them would be better off having their own Christmas party in their own apartment, but Jungsu argued that it was better to get the awkward confrontation over with.
(It almost always ended in tears. “Are you ashamed of me?” Jungsu would sob, clutching his left wrist where Youngwoon’s name was embedded.
“Of course not,” Youngwoon replied, meaning it. “I just don’t want to spend Christmas being judged by my parents and their wealthy homophobic friends.”
“That’s what you said last year and the year before that! You can’t run away from it forever!”)
On their seventh year together, Youngwoon finally relented and Jungsu was introduced to the family. At the dinner table, Youngwoon’s father pointedly ignored Jungsu’s existence while his mother started talking about how she had found this lovely blank-wristed girl that you might like, sweetie, would you like her number?. Three smashed plates and a curt insincere apology later, Youngwoon and Jungsu were heading out the door and speeding away in their car.
Jungsu apologized for pushing them into a bad situation. Youngwoon apologized for his and his parents’ behavior. The incident was never brought up again-
(-until the year they decided that they were ready to have children. After months of paperwork and failed meetings with surrogate mothers, they decided to adopt a three-year-old boy named Ryeowook. Out of their small circle of friends, Han Geng was definitely the fondest of him and by extension Heechul came to love him like his own son.
Youngwoon had written back to his mother of the news, and she was surprisingly ecstatic and insisted on meeting the boy. Little Ryeowook essentially became the love of her life. Since then, she had finally stopped pushing Youngwoon into finding a girlfriend, and though she never became comfortable enough to really accept Jungsu as family, she at least realized that no other person could make her son happier.)
The death of Youngwoon’s father almost ended their relationship entirely. Although Youngwoon had been estranged from his father for over twenty years by then, the news of his death was still a hard blow. He took up drinking to keep his mind off of the situation, and more often than not he would return home in the wee hours of the morning with whiskey on his breath and a bottle of gin in his hand.
Jungsu handled it the best way he could and left his soul mate alone. He explained to young bright-eyed Ryeowook every night that Papa was just going through a rough time, everything will be fine, darling, I promise, your Papa still loves you, I promise. Whenever Ryeowook cried, Jungsu told him of the magic of soul mates and pointed to his left wrist where Kim Jongwoon was written in a quirky but smooth manner.
(“You see this?” Jungsu would say, delighting in the way the tears would stop almost immediately. “One day, you will meet Kim Jongwoon and realize that you can’t live without him.”
Ryeowook would smile and stroke lovingly at his Soul Mark, worries temporarily forgotten. “Just like you can’t live without Papa?”
Jungsu would will away the tears from his eyes. “Yes, just like I can’t live without Papa.”)
This lasted half a year, and despite Jungsu’s pleas and assurances, the situation stayed the same. It got to the point where Jungsu started making plans to leave Youngwoon and take Ryeowook with him to stay with Heechul until they had enough money to find their own place.
(It was Youngwoon’s mother who finally managed to knock some sense into her son. She slapped Youngwoon hard across the face, told him that he had a family to take care of, and that just last week Ryeowook had asked her why is Papa never home anymore, does he hate me, did I do anything wrong?.)
Once Youngwoon realized how badly he had shaken up his family, he never drank again, not even a glass of red wine on special occasions.
The dark times passed, and Youngwoon’s relationship with Ryeowook slowly rekindled. The boy grew up wonderfully, and Ryeowook eventually entered university as a music major and met his soul mate Jongwoon in his sophomore year.
The rest, they say, is history.
Kyuhyun was a realist. He made lists-only realists made list. And he loved statistical graphs-only realists loved statistical graphs.
But his realist views on relationships and life were kicked to the curb the moment Zhou Mi showed up on his doorstep at four thirty in the morning, so instead of thoughts like maybe we should wait a little or let’s get to know each other better before we make any big decisions, Kyuhyun’s brain was filled with get in my bed before my balls shrivel up and why do you still have clothes on? and variations thereof.
The worst part about it was that within the first five minutes of meeting him, Zhou Mi had already established that he was in it for the long run (if the I will love you until the end of time confession on bended knee was anything to go by).
Q: When your soul mate dropped a bomb of loving emotion on you, what in the world do you do?
A: Why, kiss him, of course.
But what should have been a very chaste romantic kiss turned very sinful very fast and to be perfectly honest, Kyuhyun’s sleep-deprived mind was really too happy to oblige.
Probably three handjobs and two and a half blowjobs later, they tacitly decided that yah, okay that was enough for now.
After spending a minute or two catching their breaths, Zhou Mi finally broke the haze that fogged the bedroom. “My name is Zhou Mi, I’m twenty-four years old, I am from Beijing, I was a waiter at a restaurant for snobby rich people and I hated everybody there except for Krystal and Amber, I love cooking, I hate spiders, I sing in the shower, I am technologically challenged, and I can’t drive to save my life.”
Kyuhyun listened, heart swelling with something akin to happiness.
Q: When your soul mate decides to tell you his whole life story, what do you do?
A: Why, kiss him, of course.
This kiss was chaste and romantic, and it made Kyuhyun blush right down to his roots. “My name is Cho Kyuhyun, I’m twenty-two years old, I have a big sister, I am doing my graduate degree on cell biology, I am a teaching assistant for a lower-level mathematics course and am probably the hardest marker in the history of teaching assistants, I love singing, I hate cooking, I play Starcraft, I need to get a haircut pronto, and I know every word to the lyrics of every Disney song.”
Zhou Mi laughed, a lovely high-pitched sound that contrasted with the somber darkness of Kyuhyun’s bedroom. “Well, we’re doing things positively backwards, aren’t we?”
“I’m not complaining.”
“Me neither.” Zhou Mi rolled on top of Kyuhyun and bent to kiss his bare chest. “But I had planned on making our first time together more romantic and memorable, if you know what I mean.”
Kyuhyun scoffed. “Zhou Mi, you showed up on my doorstep at four thirty in the morning, confessed your love to me on bended knee, and proceeded to deflower me for the next hour and a half. I don’t think that anything could be more romantic and memorable.”
Zhou Mi laughed again. Kyuhyun could have fallen in love with only his laugh if nothing else. “Well, if you put it that way.”
Just at that moment, at exactly seven o’clock, Kyuhyun’s clock went off.
Yo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want
So tell me what you want, what you really, really want
I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want
So tell me what you want, what you really, really want
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
Really, really wanna zigazig ha
Zhou Mi was choking on laughter by the time his soul mate had finally wiggled out from under him and reset the damn alarm. “Good morning,” he greeted, ribs aching with mirth.
“I’m never looking at you again,” Kyuhyun bit out, burying his face into the pillow in mortification. “Ever.”
“Yah, that’s going to work.”
“Shut up.”
Zhou Mi propped himself onto his elbow and exhaled happily. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s cute.”
“I’m not cute.”
A chuckle low in his voice, Zhou Mi pressed his lips between Kyuhyun’s shoulder blades. “Yes, you are.”
They stayed in bed for another few hours before getting up to take a shower. While Zhou Mi busied himself in the kitchen, Kyuhyun logged onto his laptop and saw an email from the head of the Mathematics department informing him that he had weekly office hours to attend and that it was irresponsible to be absent without prior notice, especially when it was so close to finals week.
Kyuhyun deleted the email and walked over to the counter where Zhou Mi was making something that smelled like roast chicken. He snaked his arms around his soul mate’s thin waist and sighed happily, chin resting comfortably on a bony shoulder. He was definitely not going to office hours today, no matter what his boss said.
Q: When your soul mate shows up at your doorstep at four o’clock in the morning, carries out the best-written love confession monologue on bended knee, and be revealed to be ridiculously good in bed, what do you do?
A: Why, kiss him, of course.
Dear Heechul,
I am on a plane to Korea as of right now. I am petrified, to say the least. I know that it is a long shot, but what if I meet you there? What if, out of the blue, I suddenly find myself face to face with you and I blow it because I act like a fool? Maybe I’ll accidentally say something offensive. Maybe I’ll butcher a Korean word.
It weighs heavily in my heart. Zhou Mi told me that he had met his soul mate and that it was the happiest moment in his life. I do not doubt that meeting you will also be my happiest moment-what I worry about is that it won’t be yours.
There is much I want to tell you, but I am too much of a coward regardless of my desires.
I love you. Is that presumptuous?
Han Geng
epilogue ii
Ten percent of all soul mates split up. Thirty-five percent of all soul mates think of splitting up.
Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi were neither the ten percent nor the thirty-five percent, which means that they don’t get an interesting epilogue.
(Sure, they had arguments, but if I were to document their worst quarrel, it would have been something like this:
“Kyuhyun, if you keep staring at that computer, you’ll eyes will shrivel up and you will die.”
“Give me five minutes. I’m killing Zergs.”
“You know, I’m starting to think that you like your computer more than you like me.”
Kyuhyun shut down his computer immediately and therein ended that argument.)
so they lived happily ever after
Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi hosted their housewarming party on a rainy Thursday evening and invited every friend they knew in town. Youngwoon brought the wine, Heechul brought the cheese, and a lovely girl from Zhou Mi’s childhood town named Victoria had baked enough chocolate chip cookies to feed an army. It was a quaint little party, and the six people who arrived filled the flat comfortably.
Heechul, for one, was having a fabulous time chatting with Victoria over a glass of red wine. He knew exactly why she was one of Zhou Mi’s closest friends, and was impressed with her astounding ability to hold a conversation notwithstanding the language barrier. They mostly conversed through sign language and broken Korean-Chinese words, but within the first five minutes of meeting each other they had developed a way of fluent communication.
(“You fly to Korea,” Heechul said in Korean, imitating bird wings and pointing to his general surroundings. He pointed to his watch. “How long?”
“I’ve been here since last night at around one in the morning,” Victoria replied in her lovely Chinese, holding up her pointer finger. She feigned a big yawn. “Very tired from the trip.”
Eventually, the flow of words became natural and the effect of strong wine made their minds more flexible. From topics that ranged from denim to restaurants to modeling, they ultimately came to the topic of love, and Victoria showed Heechul her blank wrists without any hesitation. “I’m not sad,” she said, though her smile spoke differently. “Being blank-wristed means that I don’t need anybody to else to complete me. It means that I am fine on my own.”
Heechul stared at those blank wrists and immediately grasped his own. “I can’t imagine.”
Victoria laughed. “I think of it as Destiny’s way of telling me that I can find a soul mate of my own, one who I love without needing a Soul Mark. There are plenty of blank-wristed men and women out there. Most people don’t know that, but you can always find one if you look hard enough. If I wanted to, I can just put myself out there and find somebody wonderful to settle down with if I so chose.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I guess I just don’t need to. Not now, at least.”
Heechul ran his thumb over his Soul Mark and smiled. “You’re very strong.”
“So I’ve been told,” Victoria winked.)
At ten o’clock, Zhou Mi had to head off to the airport to pick up some friends of his from China who were visiting him for the weekend. He came back within the hour with three new faces. One was an elegant lady with perfect skin and skinny legs, and on her arm was an androgynous woman who Heechul only deduced was female from the mascara applied on her eyelashes with a precision most commonly found in practiced female hands.
The last to enter the flat was a tall tense figure that looked more like a shadow than a man. His shoulders were hunched and uncomfortable and his limbs moved calculatingly. He held a white cane in his hand. His jaw was firm, and his mouth was set to a grim line. Lines were etched onto his face-the man frowned too much, he probably did not find enough reasons to smile.
Heechul wanted to change that, and extricated himself from his conversation with Victoria to make his way towards the half-blind man standing near the door. The man had sensitive ears, and when Heechul was three steps away he had already heard somebody approaching and lifted his gaze. The missing eye would have stopped Heechul in his tracks if his heart had not already been beating so hard.
“Hi,” he started out, a bit stupidly to his own ears. “You must be Han Geng.”
The man nodded. His missing eye was a distortion of skin stretched out too far. His good eye was glazed over, shielded.
“Do you understand Korean?”
Han Geng’s lips twitched. “I speak it fluently,” he replied, voice low and hoarse.
Heechul giggled nervously. Oh, Heechul, you sly dog you. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Zhou Mi,” he babbled. “Good things,” he added hastily.
“Zhou Mi never speaks ill of anybody,” Han Geng replied solemnly.
“That’s good! So does he tell you good things about his friends in Korea?”
“I’ve asked him not to tell me.”
Heechul’s nervous smile fell. “Why?”
“It’s personal.” The way he involuntarily rubbed at his left wrist spoke the words left unsaid.
It was if Heechul’s heart was being ripped out of him. He really doesn’t want to meet me, he thought to himself, forlorn. He doesn’t want to meet me. He realized that his hands were shaking and he curled them into fists. He felt sick. “Oh. Okay.”
“Oh Heechul!” came Zhou Mi’s cheerful voice as he made his way towards them from the other side of the room. Heechul had never wanted to murder him more than in that moment and he averted his gaze to stare at his very expensive shoes. “I see you’ve met Han Geng!”
Han Geng’s head snapped upwards, and for a moment the redhead thought that he might run away-he looked almost scared. (Zhou Mi seemed oblivious to their silent conversation, and chattered about how Heechul knows everything about everybody and how Han Geng is an amazing dancer, show him a few moves! and that Han Geng, you must meet Kyuhyun, my soul mate.) But then Han Geng smiled, nice to meet you, and it was the most glorious sight Heechul had ever seen. All of his worries and troubles melted away and Heechul knew.
“Zhou Mi,” Heechul cut his friend off in the middle of his endless you two should be friends! spiel. “Kyuhyun looks like he’s having trouble with the stove. Maybe you should help him.”
“Oh goodness, you’re right!” Zhou Mi cried, half-horrified half-amused at the sight of his soul mate frantically trying to figure out what all the dial buttons did. “Excuse me!”
And once Zhou Mi was safely out of the vicinity, Heechul turned his attention back to his soul mate and this wave of happiness washed over him, leaving him close to breathless. “I’m Heechul,” he said lamely, and blinked at his blunder. “Wait, you already know that. God, I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this. It’s just so, so wonderful to meet you at last.” Heechul blushed and breathed out a nervous laugh. “I sound ridiculous, don’t I?”
Han Geng lightly brushed his knuckles against Heechul’s cheek, smile never leaving his face. His left eye was not glazed over anymore-it was a clear dark brown, revealing something bright and beautiful. “Can I talk to you?” In private?
Heechul nodded silently. His smile hurt his face but he was too happy to care.
After Zhou Mi managed to save his chicken from being burnt to crisp, he caught a glimpse out the kitchen window of his two best friends ambling down the street, fingers entwined, eyes locked in each other. Realization dawned upon him and he laughed so loud that Kyuhyun had asked him if he was okay (which made him laugh harder). Zhou Mi flung his long arms around his soul mate and kissed him until he was slack-jawed and flushed to his roots.
“I’m fine, Kyuhyun. Just really, really happy.”
epilogue iii
The night they met, Han Geng and Heechul spent three hours talking incessantly. Han Geng had never felt more happy and guilty in his life. The darkness of the streets made it so that he had to walk slower just in case his white cane failed to inform him of a sidewalk curb. On the other hand, he talked more in those three hours than he did in a month, and he found himself hanging onto every word Heechul-beautiful fiery Heechul, his beautiful fiery Heechul!-indulged him with.
Heechul could not have been more perfect. There was no possible way. Heechul was beautiful, charismatic, so full of love that Han Geng was almost breathless with awe. There was no sign of pity in Heechul’s eyes when he asked about his missing eye, and because of that, Han Geng found himself more than willing to talk about how his blindness had given him unwanted special treatment, no driver’s license, and a considerably short list of career choices.
After this long and lengthy monologue, Heechul was silent for a minute before breaking into a coy grin. “Well, look at the bright side. No driver’s license means no driver’s license photo.”
Han Geng blinked once, twice, and then broke into the first giggling fit he had had in years.
(Scratch that, Heechul was not only perfect, he was godsend.)
With Heechul’s constant pestering, Han Geng finally worked up the nerve to apply as a dance instructor at the nearest institution, and was almost beside himself in happiness when he was accepted for an interview. Heechul took him on a shopping spree and Han Geng quietly tolerated being told to try on what felt like millions of suits until his soul mate was satisfied. They decided on the classic black, and Han Geng would never forget how Heechul had kissed him and whispered that “it brings out your eye.”
Han Geng landed the job and wondered what he had done to deserve such happiness.
(Eventually, he stopped wondering and started living.)
Heechul should not have been surprised that Han Geng was old-fashioned. The Chinese man liked the simple things-handwritten letters, warm fireplaces, walks in the park, feeding pigeons and the like. Kyuhyun called him a prude. Zhou Mi called him a naturalist. Heechul honestly had no name for it-he just thought it was adorable.
Han Geng went out of his way to be the perfect boyfriend, and as a result there were romantic candlelit dinners, long walks along the beach, slow dancing to bluesy jazz music, and a lot of cuddling on the porch while watching the sunset. Probably Heechul’s favorite was the one night Han Geng surprised him by throwing rocks at his apartment window and proceeding to serenade him an old Chinese love song that Han Geng’s mother sang to him every night before he went to bed.
Unfortunately, being old-fashioned also meant being willing to wait until the perfect moment. Heechul was nothing if impatient, and after nearly a month doing absolutely nothing but soft hand-holding and quick chaste kissing, he was starting to become frustrated. Come on, even Kyuhyun was getting laid!
(“Maybe he doesn’t want to have sex,” Jungsu shrugged. “Asexuality does exist, you know. God knows I don’t understand it, but it could be a possibility.”
“If he were asexual, he wouldn’t have a Soul Mark.”
“Untrue,” Kyuhyun drawled from his desk on the other side of the room, eyes fixed on his computer that was making soft pew pew pew sounds. “Soul Marks just mark individuals as each other’s enzymatic fits. There have been cases where twins share Soul Marks, platonic friends share Soul Marks, or a mother and her daughter share Soul Marks, or one person has more than one name as their Soul Mark. The recent studies show that nearly twenty-five percent of all Soul Marks are not of the sexual nature.”
“So you’re saying that I may be one of those twenty-five percent who will practice abstinence their whole life?”
“I didn’t say that; I said that your relationship may not entail sexual attraction. Asexual people are completely able to engage in sexual activities. I’m just saying that you will probably never turn him on.”
Heechul glowered. “Wow, Kyuhyun, wow. That’s so uplifting.”)
Luckily for Heechul, it turned out that Han Geng was not asexual-he was just rightfully inexperienced, unreasonably nervous, and painfully shy. Once he had overcome his hesitancy, Han Geng turned out to be an extremely considerate lover. On top of being gentle to the point of fault, his inability to see made him more observant-he seemed to know Heechul’s body better than Heechul himself. It was delightful.
Heechul was remarkably happy. He could not have asked for any better. In the entirety of their relationship, he had never thought of leaving Han Geng, ever. It was unfathomable-he could hardly remember life without him anymore, how in the world did he live back in those pre-Han Geng days? Heechul loved waking up with his arm splayed over his soul mate’s chest, and getting those shy sweet voice messages (Han Geng was a prude who hated texting) that never failed to make him smile for the rest of the day at work.
If there was one aspect he hated about their relationship, it would have been all the apologies. Han Geng apologized constantly, if not orally, then through his body language. The man was tense whenever they were in public, all stiff limbs and tight jaw and knitted eyebrows. Heechul wanted nothing more than to shake him-you are my soul mate, you are beautiful because I say so, screw anybody who thinks otherwise, why can’t you see that?.
The worst was when Han Geng squeezed his left eye shut as if trying to hide from the world, making his beautiful features taut with guilt. This usually happened late in night with Heechul curled tight against him. “Sometimes I am afraid,” he would whisper, voice meek and sheepish, “that this all is a dream and that I’ll wake up.” It made Heechul’s blood boil with rage.
(“I would never leave you. You know that.”
“I’m sorry.”
Heechul slapped him straight across the cheek, too angry to do much else. “You’re apologizing for all the wrong reasons.”)
When Han Geng finally went blind at the age of forty, he fell into an almost-suicidal depression. He was forced to resign from his job, stopped eating, and was sometimes completely silent for days on end. Heechul could yell and scream and pull at his hair, all to no avail-Han Geng just sat in his armchair and continued to stare blankly at the wall. Zhou Mi visited often during those first few weeks, and usually it consisted of one-sided conversations and soft urges to come back, Han Geng, please, let me help you. The one person he made any effort to communicate with was little Ryeowook-small and yet monumental smiles that brought him back to life.
(“Look, Uncle Han Geng!” Ryeowook cried, handing him the picture he drew with his crayons. There were three stick figures. “It’s you and me and Uncle Heechul!”
Han Geng ran his fingertips across the white sheet and blinked slowly. The smell of Crayola was strong in the air. “It’s a beautiful picture.”)
“Han Geng, you prat!” Heechul screamed one day after he had gone more than three hours filling up the pregnant silence between them with nonsensical ramblings about how his day went. “Just stop feeling sorry for yourself! I know you’re blind, but to tell you the absolute truth, I don’t care. You could be deaf and in a wheelchair and have Down’s syndrome and I wouldn’t care.”
And when Han Geng didn’t respond and just kept staring at the wall, Heechul felt a hotness behind his eyes that he hadn’t felt since he had fell from a tree when he was six years old. The tears ran down his face and within seconds his sleeve was drenched. “You jerk,” he sobbed, voice sore and cracked. He fell to the floor beside his unresponsive soul mate and rested his head against Han Geng’s kneecap. “You jerk! I know you can hear me!”
A wave of insurmountable relief filled his chest when he felt long bony fingers card through his red hair. “Do you mean it?” Four words that held a million questions.
Heechul swallowed back the thickness in his throat and nodded. “Every word.”
(It was true. Heechul did not mind in the slightest. In fact, there were perks to having a blind soul mate. Everything Han Geng could not see, he touched, and more often than not Heechul would catch him running his hands over his left wrist. Their long walks were delightful in that Han Geng held the crook of Heechul’s elbow as they walked. Heechul found himself loving the overwhelming amount of trust that was placed on him as they ambled through the park with Han Geng’s cane only half-heartedly searching his path.
Nearing Heechul’s fiftieth birthday, Han Geng finally took out all the letters he had written during his pre-Heechul days and trusted his soul mate to read them if he so chose. Heechul spent the next day and a half reading through nearly a hundred letters, from the ones where Han Geng was just learning Korean to the most recent ones where the kanji looked like it was written by a native speaker. Although angry that his soul mate had decided to hide that part of himself for all the years they were together, each written word made Heechul fall a little more in love and his anger quickly dissipated. He never threw those letters away, and for the rest of his life he had read them so often that he had practically had every word memorized.
(They became Heechul’s sunlight during the rainy days, solace in his times of need. They were a reminder that he was never alone, even when Han Geng passed away in his sleep at the age of sixty-three.)
the one true epilogue
Ryeowook loved photographs, and his room was always decorated with little Polaroid pictures that piled one on top of another to form a collage of memories and smiles. Most of them were of Jongwoon-Jongwoon with his turtle, Jongwoon performing his graduation recital, Jongwoon falling off a swing meant for a five-year-old-and Ryeowook would have it no other way.
He also had many pictures of his parents which told the story of their relationship from when they first met to their last photo together.
However, he only had one photo of his entire extended family. It was the one of Ryeowook’s high school graduation, where he was smiling with his oversized graduation hat as everybody clustered together to fit into the photo frame. Jungsu’s eyes were red and swollen from crying so much. Heechul had missed a day of work to attend. Han Geng had his face tilted so that the camera would not catch his missing eye. Kyuhyun was wearing a plain t-shirt despite Zhou Mi’s wholehearted efforts to get him to dress up for the event. Krystal, Amber, and Victoria stood near the front to “add a feminine touch” (although Krystal had teased Zhou Mi that he had enough of a feminine touch as it was).
Ryeowook smiled and wiped the dust off of the picture frame. He could not have asked for a better life.