(for kairousels) Something Up Fate's Sleeve [1/3]
For: kairousels
Title: something up fate’s sleeve
Genre soulmate!au, romance, fluff
Rating: NC-17
Side Pairings (if any): Luhan/Xiumin
Warnings: [Click to view]smut, very slight language
Word Count: 20,681
Summary: The universe seems to really want Jongin and Kyungsoo to be together, despite their massive differences in lifestyles and personalities. After some time, they find that they might have more in common than they think.
Author's Note: To recipient - thank you for your prompts! It was hard to pick one and I switched a couple of times before settling on this! It didn’t turn out exactly the way I wanted it to, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Mods, thank you so much for being patient with me. And finally, thank you reader, for giving it a chance.
"Rise and shine, asshole!"
The words are practically thunder, pounding at Kyungsoo's sensitive ears and sending a sharp jolt of pain through his brain. He grumbles, blinking his eyes open wearily to the spackled ceiling of his bedroom, and letting it glaze over to the man standing at his door.
Sehun leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking nowhere near to hungover as Kyungsoo feels. The man has always had an insanely strong tolerance to alcohol, one that Kyungsoo envies.
"Shit," Kyungsoo mutters, clenching his eyes shut again when he realizes just how bright it is. The little punk must have shoved the blinds open, letting sunlight spill into his bedroom, unforgiving.
"Get up, Gatsby,” Sehun says. “Your manager called. He wants you to meet up with him at the usual place at nine."
"What time is it now?"
"Six."
"Six am? Why the hell are you waking me up now?"
"I was being considerate and thought you'd want some time to get your ass together before you went to see him."
Kyungsoo grumbles, pulling the comforter over his head. It's then that some details come back in little flashes - someone undressing him, him undressing someone, pressing them against him, against this very bed.
He turns to the other half of his bed, only to find emptiness and ruffled sheets.
"Uh,” Kyungsoo says. “Did I -?"
"Yep," Sehun responds. "They left about a half hour ago."
Kyungsoo is relieved. One less headache to deal with. "No more parties," he grumbles again, hand shooting up to massage his temples.
Sehun chuckles, doubtful. "Sure.”
As per usual routine, Kyungsoo tells his driver to wait for him behind the Lucky Diner. It’s his favorite place to get breakfast, and he goes early in the mornings - just when they’ve opened - to avoid the people who may recognize him.
“Joohyun, my savior,” Kyungsoo groans as he practically bursts through the diner doors. He throws himself onto his usual stool, resting his cheek against the cool counter. The waitress only eyes him with a perked brow, likely wondering what Kyungsoo’s got himself into this time.
"I need something for a hangover,” he says, or rather, slurs.
"Again?” Joohyun asks, amused. “This is the second time in a month, Kyungsoo."
He only groans in response. The waitress tsks at him before shuffling away into the kitchen, preparing his usual meal, but with added grease to help with the hangover.
“I swear, you and another regular of mine are always coming in with hangovers. Is drinking a hobby for you two? Does my diner attract hungover people?”
“Well, you gotta admit, Joohyun, your coffee does wonders for a headache.”
“I don’t want to be known for that,” she pouts through the little window that sees through into the kitchen. “He says that about my coffee too, though. My other regular, I mean. You know what? He likes his eggs with ketchup too, now that I remember.”
Kyungsoo chuckles against the sleek counter. “A man with good taste.”
“It’s still odd,” Joohyun says. “He loves your little napkin doodles, by the way.”
“He sees those, does he?” Kyungsoo says, raising his head to meet Joohyun’s eye smile through the small window.
“Yep. He always comes in very shortly after you leave, so that I haven’t cleaned up your spot yet, and he sees the drawings and always coos at how cute they are.”
“Tell him thanks, then,” Kyungsoo calls, smiling.
“You could do it yourself, you know,” Joohyun says, the sizzling of eggs muffling her voice slightly, and the smell wafting through the empty diner.
“I have a meeting with my manager soon.”
“Well, you could leave him a note then, yeah?”
“What does he look like?” Kyungsoo says. He pulls a napkin and pen up from behind the diner counter, resting it on the space before him.
“Are you going to draw him?” Joohyun asks. “I’m offended. I’ve asked you to draw me so many times in cute chibi form but you never bothered, and suddenly your eggs-with-ketchup soulmate gets a drawing without even having met you.”
“But you get my ravishing personality in person so I think the scales are even here.”
Joohyun rolls her eyes. Through the window, Kyungsoo sees her grabbing the ketchup and drizzling it onto his plate of eggs.
“He’s handsome,” Joohyun starts. “Seungwan calls him Jawline Guy, so I guess you can say he has a jawline sharper than most. He has sleepy eyes, though that might just be because we always see him in the morning. His lips are really pouty, too. It’s like they pop out at you, to be honest, but they look really damn kissable.”
“Well, someone’s been paying close attention,” Kyungsoo teases, arching an eyebrow.
“Hey, you asked.”
Kyungsoo’s pen works quickly over the napkin, sketching a quick, small little form. He exaggerates the features Joohyun’s pointed out, making his jawline sharp, his eyes appear sleepy and almost confused, and his lips into an ‘o’, like he’s pouting.
“Hair?”
“Scruffy. Cute bangs.”
“Clothes?”
“He gets dressed at work, so he comes in pajamas most of the time. He’s like a giant kid. All he needs is a teddy bear.”
Kyungsoo smiles at the visual Joohyun grants him, and he thinks it’s pretty cute. He sketches long bangs in front of his sleepy eyes, as well as a pajama top and bottom patterned with stars and crescent moons. For fun, he draws a small stuffed teddy bear in one of his hands, and the result is a cute little mini version of the man Joohyun’s described. In a small chat bubble off to the side, he writes in - Good morning! You have great taste in breakfast. ^^
“Here.” Kyungsoo slides the drawing across the counter just as Joohyun springs open the door separating the kitchen from the counter. “Tell him I appreciate his liking for my silly drawings.”
Joohyun smile softly at the drawing, cooing. She slides Kyungsoo’s plate of eggs across the counter, and he thanks her.
“He keeps them most of the time, you know.” Mischief plays along the corner of her lips, lilting up in a knowing way.
“Really?”
“Yeah. He really liked the puppy one. Said it reminded him of his old dog.”
He feels inexplicably warm inside his chest. “Honestly, I don't even know what goes through my mind when I draw these. Just a little something for fun as I eat, I guess. He seems sweet though.”
“He is. I’ll make sure he gets this one too, alright?”
Kyungsoo smiles gratefully, picking up his fork and knife as he begins to dig into his breakfast, heart oddly light.
His phone buzzes on the counter, and he glances at it, eying a text from Yixing, his manager, come in. There’s a link leading to Dispatch, and Kyungsoo already knows what he’s in for.
If you’re going to throw parties, try not to make it on headlines next time, alright? And don’t forget - you have an interview with Sulsul tomorrow.
Well, it was nice to pretend he was normal for a bit.
Jongin stumbles out the door clumsily, tripping over the mat as he shrugs his jacket on. Autumn mornings are the best for a good coffee, and he wishes he were home instead of stumbling out of a virtual stranger’s apartment.
She was okay. Really nice kisser, really nice personality. Otherwise, just a distraction.
Jongin battles with himself on whether or not he will simply skip going home to take a shower and instead go straight to the diner. He checks the time on his phone - it’s already seven. He doesn’t have much time, so when he reaches the intersection, he turns right instead of left, where the diner (and a good cup of coffee) awaits him.
He tries to walk the streets in a way that doesn’t say walk of shame - back straight, hands in his jacket pockets, head held high likes he’s not disappointed in himself once again. It proves hard to do when he’s hungover and aching for a good breakfast to pair with his coffee. Yifan is going to kill him when he shows up at work half drunk from last night. He doesn’t remember all of it. Luhan had dragged him out, an attractive girl bought him a drink, and the next second he was spread naked on aforementioned attractive girl’s bed.
It felt good last night, but all he feels today is stupidly, pitifully empty. What does he expect by now, though? To wake up after a one-night stand to the girl making pancakes and fall in love with her? Pathetic. He’d woken up with crust in his eyes and an ache in his bones, the cloudy day greeting him through the blinds. The girl had been in the shower, and there was a note on the bed beside him that said he should leave when he wakes up, and to please not make a mess.
Not a romance novel, he should know that by now.
He wonders, vaguely, when the red string will show up for him.
He rids that thought immediately, embarrassed at himself. He is one of the few people who can see the string, yes, but it's always been a bit, well, suspicious to him. Sure, he's the reason why his friends even got together (because he'd seen the string connecting them when they first met), but otherwise, he is wary about it, which Luhan thinks is funny, given that he can see it and he is still cynical about it.
Or maybe he's just bitter that it hasn't shown up for himself yet.
What a pretentious and annoying place to live, Jongin thinks, glaring at his surroundings. He’s always hated the city - the irritating noise, the sound of construction, the way people bustled through without any sense of manners. He’s getting the hit of it all now as he tries to push past early morning goers trying to get to their jobs. The diner he usually frequents stands just outside downtown borders, so he ignores the tempting cabs that pass him by, reminding himself that rent is due in just a week and he has little money to spare for a ride.
He feels like he can breathe once he is outside of the busiest part of the city, and he spots the diner some blocks away. He wills his headache to calm down and have some patience.
The diner is a small little thing, humble and hidden behind a giant fast food restaurant. Jongin very pointedly ignores the fast food restaurant and its irritating drive through to make his way to the diner instead.
There are people dotted here and there when he enters, sat in the red leather booths either alone or with a friend. Some of the faces are familiar, because he frequents this diner nearly every morning, so he simply gives them a nod of acknowledgment before taking a seat at the front counter. Joohyun immediately spots him through the window that sees through to the kitchen, and she smiles, disappearing only to reappear through the swinging door.
“The usual?”
“Please,” Jongin all but groans. It’s obvious he’s hungover. “Maybe double everything.”
The waitress perks an arched brow. “What is it with you men and drinking on weeknights?”
Jongin only grumbles, resting his forehead on the shiny counter and not bothering to ask what she means. He hears her walk off, and he takes the moment to himself, to gather his thoughts and regrets, and contemplate his life decisions.
It’s only a few minutes later that he hears a plate being placed on the counter before him, and he lifts his head to be greeted by a giant pile of scrambled eggs with ketchup on the side. There’s that good cup of coffee he’d been yearning as well, and he sighs, already feeling better. However, something else catches his eyes. The napkin Joohyun’s placed for him is drawn in something, and he smiles immediately, wondering what diner doodler has drawn today.
It’s a small figure, dressed in pajamas and holding a teddy bear. His eyes are sleepy, and his hair a mess. Jongin squints. Is this meant to be -
“It’s you,” Joohyun says, reading his thoughts. She’s wiping at a dish with a cloth towel when Jongin blinks up at her in confusion. “I told him of your little love for his doodles, so he drew you out of appreciation.”
Jongin’s brows shoot up, as does the corner of his lip. He draws his gaze back to the doodle wordlessly, taking in the details - like the pout of his lips, the moon and star pattern of his pajamas, and the little chat bubble off to the side. He smiles softly to himself, feeling a little warm in the chest. This is a nice gesture, he thinks. He’s already having a better day.
This is often the case anyway, Jongin thinks sadly as he digs into his breakfast within the next five minutes. His days are made by a stranger’s doodles on a dirty napkin. He doesn’t know what it is about them; they’re cute, and Jongin has a weakness for cute things.
Because life hates him, it doesn’t last too long. It’s pretty hard to have a good day when you’re a both a journalist and an introvert, not to mention still hungover.
“Do Kyungsoo.” Jongin reads the name quietly. It’s in type across the top of his schedule. A big name actor, apparently. Jongin wouldn’t know. He doesn’t watch much movies and television and is largely unfamiliar with celebrities that the nation is in love with. He supposes though, that if he is to interview him in a couple of days, he should do a bit of research on the guy.
Young actor with several awards, blah blah, handsome and smart, blah blah, new movie coming out soon, blah blah. Jongin scrolls aimlessly through the news articles on the guy. Clearly he gets plenty of coverage as it is, so why is Jongin the one who must interview him? Right, because his boss is a dick who enjoys watching him suffer.
He rolls his eyes at himself. Alright, Jongin, this is your job, you should be grateful for the opportunity to have your name attached to an interview with someone like this.
He scrolls through more articles, bored.
Versatile actor, blah blah, apparently funny as well when he doesn’t mean to be, blah blah - and oh? What’s this? Apparently he is notoriously known for being a playboy, according to the headline that reads South Korea’s playboy actor spotted leaving actress Park Minhee’s apartment. The headline catches Jongin’s attention briefly, but he scrolls down further, knowing full well from his journalism experience that it is simply clickbait. He tucks the piece of news away in a hidden pocket of his mind anyway, just to be aware.
After roaming the internet in search of this Do Kyungsoo (pretty average actor guy aside from the numerous articles about his promiscuity), Jongin edits an article that Luhan asked him to help him out with. Afterwards, he trains the new intern and prepares some questions for the coming interview with Do, making sure to ask about his new movie. He debates throwing in a question about the rumors on his active romantic life (a more professional term for sex life, he supposes), but he decides against it, not wanting to stoop down to that level for sales. Yifan will probably make him ask something along those lines, anyway. Greedy, inconsiderate asshole.
In all honesty, Jongin had been expecting a slicked-up jerk in a suit, or something.
When Do Kyungsoo arrives at the office the next day, he is in a simple button-up and jeans, and his hair looks as if there was an effort made on it, but not enough, some strands hanging over his forehead loosely.
“Kim Jongin,” he introduces, shaking the other man’s hand stiffly. Kyungsoo smiles - just as stiff - and takes the offered leather armchair across the table from Jongin.
“Sulsul would like to thank you for the exclusive interview,” Jongin says, and Kyungsoo nods curtly in response.
“It’s not a problem, Jongin,” the actor says, smiling tightly at him, and Jongin is glancing down at his laptop when Kyungsoo says this, but when he looks up, something odd catches his eye. His heart stops.
And he blanches.
It can’t be.
Slowly, as if mocking him, a thin red thread manifests itself curling around his pinky finger. Jongin swallows nervously, heart beating erratically, because this has never happened. He’s never seen the string on himself, not until now. It’s not exactly a welcome sight, even if he had been waiting for it, because it's a little hard to believe.
He stills when the string stretches itself across the space between him and the actor, and - suddenly - the other end wraps neatly around Do Kyungsoo’s finger, resting on his thigh.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“Shit,” he mutters with wide eyes, watching as the thread ties itself into a neat little bow.
“What?” Kyungsoo asks with a raised brow. Those brows are menacing.
Jongin clears his throat, averting his gaze, but the red lingers at his peripheral vision, and he suddenly feels nauseous. “Nothing,” he claims, repositioning himself on the couch. “Sorry. Uh. Onto your movie.”
He tries, he really does, to keep his attention on the matter at hand instead of the red string that dangles teasingly between him and the actor’s hand. It comes and goes, this string. It usually appears when soulmates first meet, and that is when Jongin sees it the clearest. Afterwards, however, it varies, playing hide and seek or usually appearing when the two soulmates are being particularly, well - romantic.
Jongin keeps fidgeting, praying internally for the string to vanish. It's made its point. Jongin would like for it leave him alone now.
Him, though? Do Kyungsoo of all people? The universe had to be fucking with him.
“Why do you keep staring at my hand?”
Jongin snaps his attention back up to the man.
“Looking for a ring?” Kyungsoo asks, arching a thick eyebrow. “I’m single.”
The actor shoots him a pointed look, face straight and at rest, as if he hadn’t just made a suggestive comment.
Jongin huffs, rolling his eyes as he glances away from the offending red string. His defenses kick in, and the snark makes its way out of his mouth on its own accord at Kyungsoo’s condescending words. “Tone down the arrogance,” he says. “Not everyone wants to sleep with you.”
“I didn’t say anything about sex. You’re the one that brought it up, just now.”
Jongin hums in disapproval. “Headlines were right about you.”
“Don’t be a cliche, Jongin.”
“I’m the cliche?”
“With all the ‘not everyone wants to sleep with you’ and ‘headlines were right about you’.”
“I don’t see how that’s any more of a cliche than you, playboy.”
Kyungsoo chuckles lowly. “Is that what they call me?”
“South Korea’s biggest playboy,” Jongin clarifies. He’s on the edge, and he tells himself to shut up, but the petty words just keep on coming. Bitterness will do that to you - push you until you’re hanging on by a thread and left with nothing but sour emotions feeding off misery.
The actor rolls his eyes carelessly. “You’re a journalist. Shouldn’t you know by now what news sites are willing to type up for a reaction?”
“So you claim none of it as true?”
Kyungsoo narrows his eyes, squinting at Jongin as the corner of his lip pulls up. “Is this on the record?” He glances at the laptop with a perked brow. “I thought this was an interview about my movie, not my sex life.”
“It is,” Jongin sighs, then feels himself redden. “Sorry. We got off track.”
The actor simply nods, curt, straightening his back and repositioning himself on the armchair.
The rest of the interview goes by smoothly. Jongin asks the questions he had written and Kyungsoo answers accordingly.
The string doesn’t make a reappearance.
“How was it?”
Jongin shrugs, shutting his laptop and sliding it across the table. Luhan pulls a face that can only say yikes.
“He that bad?”
“It wasn’t terrible,” Jongin admits. “I just need to learn when to shut my mouth.”
“You?”
“I don’t know. I got frustrated. And confused,” Jongin says, rubbing a hand over his face. Red continuously flashes in his memory, in the form of a string that had hung between him and the actor. He feels nauseous.
Luhan only perks a brow, crossing his arms against his chest. “Confused? What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you about it tonight, alright?” Jongin says, standing and picking his laptop back up. “Bar at nine. I need a drink or two.”
“Nine is late for you. Are you finally growing out of your old man habits of going home at seven pm?”
Jongin shoots him a meaningless glare. “Jongdae wants me volunteering at the hospital tonight at five.”
“Better improve that attitude then,” Luhan says with a playful chuckle. “I’m sure the volunteers need to be smiley and happy for the patients. What do you there anyway? Nothing serious, right? Would it look good on a resume?”
“I don’t know,” Jongin sighs, exasperated. “I don’t do it for the perks of looking good on a resume. Mostly I just hang out with the patients if they want company or something. You should try it. Maybe you’ll learn to be a bit more appreciative.”
Jongin’s grinning as he says this, and Luhan nudges him with a bony elbow, chuckling.
“9 it is,” Luhan gives in. “Minseok will be coming too, then.”
“Is he ever not? I’m used to the third wheel role already, you don’t need to warn me in advance. Just tell me if he ever gets tired of me being there too, I’m not ashamed to go drinking by myself.”
“You need more friends,” Luhan laughs. “And Minseok loves you. Have you forgotten that you’re the one that brought us together?”
Jongin’s grin falls gradually. He remembers that day clearly. Minseok, a barista at the time, had handed Luhan his espresso, and a twine of red had appeared between the two of them, curling around their pinky fingers. Luhan was a hopeless romantic, so when Jongin had told him later of what he’d seen, he immediately made a move on the barista, muttering thank god he’s cute.
“How could I forget,” Jongin says quietly, mostly to himself. Luhan chatters on about something else, when Do Kyungsoo is flashing through Jongin’s mind again, along with that dreaded string, and he swears at fate and the universe and whatever higher power there is for cursing him with this.
“Hey, mom,” Kyungsoo says, smiling widely at the woman on the armchair. Kyungsoo’s noticed that, when not taking treatment, she prefers to be off and away from the bed, as if proving that she is healthy and fine but he knows otherwise.
She smiles back at him and replies, but Kyungsoo’s attention is taken by the large vase of flowers on the bedside table, a collection of pinks and yellows with small flowers that he probably couldn’t identify. He perks a brow.
“Who are the flowers from?” he asks with a quirk of his lip. He’s glad someone came to visit his mother while he had been too busy to.
She grins fondly. “A volunteer came around the sixth floor handing out flowers to all the patients. He was very sweet.”
“Really?” Kyungsoo says with a mock frown. “He’s doing my job.”
His mother chuckles, bright with mirth. “Nonsense. Your flowers will always matter the most.” She smiles warmly at him, closing her book to rest it on her lap instead.
“How have you been?” Kyungsoo asks, placing his own vase of flowers besides the other.
“Not much different than I was this morning when you called, dear,” she says, and Kyungsoo chuckles.
“I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re not lonely.”
“I have plenty of company, don’t worry about me. Look at you, though. Another film on the way. So busy, my handsome son. You’re not lonely anymore, are you?”
Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I got a dog,” he grins. “I adopted him a couple of weeks ago. He helps.”
His mother smiles back, fondness in her eyes. “I can’t believe you got a dog and didn’t tell me. Well, I’ll just have to heal up right away so I can go home and meet him, right?”
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo laughs. “Heal fast. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“Other than the dog,” his mother begins, a bit more serious now, “you are fine, aren’t you? I know it gets stressful.”
“I came here to cheer you up, mom,” he says.
“Oh, but you know how I am,” she says. “And anyway! I told you! I’m fine. I have nice volunteers coming in and chatting with me. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Kyungsoo smiles, and nods. There is a genuine tone in her words, and he takes comfort in the fact that she is happy. She is the strongest, most brightest person he knows, and he is suddenly thankful for the hospital volunteers who come and keep her company when he cannot.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
Luhan nearly spits his drink out when Jongin tells him that - yes, apparently, his soulmate is famous movie actor, Do Kyungsoo, as terrible and horribly cliched that sounds.
“You’re fucking with me,” are the first words he says once he wipes his mouth.
“I wish I was.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I’m not.”
“You sure you weren’t just seeing things?”
“Would you appreciate if I said that about you and Minseok’s string?”
Luhan grumbles, while Minseok smiles comfortingly and rubs his boyfriend’s back in assurance.
“This proves it’s just bullshit,” Jongin says, sipping at his drink. “All of this red string stuff.”
“Jongin, your cynicism hurts us,” Minseok cuts in. “You’re part of the one-fourth of the population who can actually see it, and yet you doubt it? Amazing.”
It’s Jongin’s turn to grumble, frowning at his drink. “You guys got lucky. Maybe it’s right sometimes, but honestly - it can’t be this time.”
“The red string of fate is never wrong, Jonginnie,” Minseok says, waving his hand in the air dramatically, almost humorously. “How ‘bout you and this actor guy both get over yourselves and then you’ll see it?”
“I refuse to believe love is that easy,” Jongin says, his voice quiet now. “Love takes work. It can’t just be something decided in advance by something as questionable as fate.”
“Spoken like a true skeptic,” Luhan says, as he shakes his head in unhidden pity. “Love is what makes the world go around. I’m sure fate just wanted to make sure everyone’s got their own little special someone out there, especially for lonely, pitiful people like you whose entire life decisions are based on skepticism.”
“Come on, though,” Jongin tries. “Him?”
“I mean, just look how you’re acting, Jongin,” Luhan says with a teasing chuckle. “You’ve seen enough romantic comedies to know how this ends, right? Two people are at odds, but the audience already knows that it’s inevitably going to end in romance. It’s the Pride and Prejudice effect.”
“That’s not a thing,” Jongin says, rolling his eyes.
“Not the point,” Luhan says. “The point is you’re totally going to hook up with him. Give it a month.”
“God. Shut up,” Jongin groans, but there’s no menace in his words, and he throws his napkin at Luhan, who recoils in disgust.
“Yeah, listen to him, Jonginnie,” Minseok says, chuckling under his breath now. “Red string of fate is just doing you a favor and letting you know who you’re going to bed with next.”
“You’re both gross.”
“Not necessarily next, but more like forever,” Luhan says. “Soulmates, you know?”
It’s pretty much a habit by now for Kyungsoo to wake up to Oh Sehun in his apartment, probably with his ass on the couch and mouth full of something he’d found in Kyungsoo’s fridge. This morning is no different; the younger man lounges nonchalantly across Kyungsoo’s couch, hand stuck in a bag of potato chips. Kyungsoo seriously considers getting better friends.
“Mornin’,” Sehun calls as Kyungsoo pads into the living room after having taken a shower. It’s six am, and he needs to get to the diner before he heads off to his schedule for the day. Monggu is resting on Sehun’s lap, belly up and legs kicking in the air as he asks for rubs. Kyungsoo owns two spoiled brats.
He grumbles in response to Sehun, leaning over the couch to steal a chip. “What are you watching?”
“Dunno,” Sehun says through a full mouth. Kyungsoo wonders back around to the bathroom to finish up his morning routine as the younger goes on. “A documentary on soulmates, or something. About the acclaimed red string of fate and stuff.”
Kyungsoo huffs out a patronizing scoff. “You believe in that stuff?” he yells from the bathroom.
“I mean, I guess,” Sehun says. “You know there are actual people out there who see it, right? The string.”
“I don’t buy it,” Kyungsoo says through a toothpaste-foamed mouth.
“You sad little man. Tell me, do you enjoy rainy days and crying puppies?”
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, spitting and rinsing his mouth. “Love comes from the heart,” he says when he wipes his mouth. “Not from some higher force that doesn’t exist. It takes work. You don’t get it that easy.”
“I pity you,” comes a condescending tone in Kyungsoo’s living room, munching on his potato chips.
“I don’t need fate or destiny telling me who to love, thanks,” Kyungsoo says, wiping his hand on a towel and leaving the bathroom.
“That’s not the point,” Sehun says. His legs are kicked up on the coffee table, and Kyungsoo glares at him until he drops them to the carpet. “It’s about that hope. It’s about looking for them and finding them, and holding onto that belief that there is someone special out there waiting for you. You gotta admit it’s a nice thought.”
“Yeah, but then people get so wrapped up in finding them that they forget to actually, you know, live. What happens if you never find them, then? You’re left to die alone just because you believed all your life that you would find them, that fate had better plans for you, but you’re left to fend for yourself in the end, because that’s how it always is. You don’t get help.”
Sehun crinkles his nose at Kyungsoo. “This sounds personal,” he says.
“Not about me,” Kyungsoo says with yet another glare. He pulls at his jacket that’s wedged in between the couch arm and Sehun, until the latter relents and moves himself so Kyungsoo can pull it free. Shrugging it on, he makes his way out the door. “I just don’t want to waste a lifetime believing in something as silly as the red string of fate. Do you even hear how tacky that sounds?”
“Well, okay, Mr. Cynical,” Sehun says. “No wonder the people you sleep with never want to stay. You’re talkative in the mornings.”
“You started it,” Kyungsoo says childishly. “You owe me a bag of chips, by the way.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sehun waves a hand without looking at him. “Go and eat, already. You’re such a bummer. I, on the other hand, will continue to search for that perfect person because I’m needy and yearn for love and affection.”
Kyungsoo chuckles. “You’re only proving my point.”
“Sure, heartless.”
“Doesn’t bother me when the articles say it, doesn’t bother me when you say it.”
“Hey,” Sehun says now, picking his head up at the resigned tone in Kyungsoo’s bitter words. “You know I’m just joking, right? I mean, everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. I just like to mess with you. I know you’re not really, you know - heartless.”
“I know, Sehun,” Kyungsoo assures with a smile. “I know you’re not silly either, for wanting to believe. Everyone is different.”
Sehun smiles at him, nodding in understanding. “Thanks. Go eat now, you’re getting too damn skinny. Do they feed you on those movie sets?”
“I survive off of screenplays and the Lucky Diner’s coffee, you know this.”
“Go find your soulmate and maybe he’ll cook you a proper meal for the first time in your life.”
“Right, like I’m going to meet my soulmate at a breakfast diner.”
Sehun snickers, throwing a chip at Kyungsoo from across the room. “It’s called Lucky for a reason, isn’t it?”
Jongin has a terrible habit of being late for work.
Can he be blamed for preferring to sleep in? Nonetheless, Yifan had threatened him with his job, so today, he is forced to wake up at an ungodly hour if he still wants to make it to the diner and get to work on time.
His head lolls against the cab window as he drives through the city, sleepy eyes daring to shut. He manages to stay awake for the whole fifteen minutes, which he considers a feat in itself, and pays the driver accordingly. Joohyun will be surprised to see him in early, no doubt, knowing that he prefers to come in with the rest of the breakfast hour folks.
It’s nearing seven am, and Jongin just really needs coffee.
He opens the diner door, and it’s weird, seeing the diner nearly empty. In all honesty, he’d been expecting the diner to be completely empty, and was kind of looking forward to the peace, but to his surprise, someone is sitting at the counter - at his stool.
The thief turns his head at the sound of footsteps, and Jongin steps back a bit, surprised at who it is.
Do Kyungsoo. It’s a little jarring to see him, a well-known actor, here in this dingy diner.
“What are you doing here?” The words come out a littler harsher than Jongin had meant.
Kyungsoo parts his mouth in response, than furrows his brows. “Am I not allowed here?”
“I mean, it’s not that, but -”
“I come here every morning,” the actor says.
“I come here every morning.”
Joohyun chooses that moment to walk in, plate of eggs in one hand. She pauses at the scene before her, eyes flashing between Jongin and Kyungsoo.
“You’re early today, Jongin!” she exclaims. Then, with a frown, she says - “What’s with the icy mood in here, boys?”
Jongin swallows, taking his gaze to Joohyun instead. “I didn’t want to be late for work again so I came in early.”
The waitress makes an ah face, nodding in understanding as she slides the plate of eggs towards the other man sitting at the counter.
“This is Kyungsoo!” Joohyun says. “Or you might know him as the guy who’s always drawn those cute little napkin doodles for you.”
Jongin gapes at the actor. “You-?”
“He’s the-?”
They speak over each other, expressions mirroring the other’s - wide-eyed and mouth gaping. Jongin can’t quite seem to make the connection that all of those cute, warm drawings were made by Do Kyungsoo, a person who’s not very warm. Joohyun switches her gaze back and forth between them with an amused little quirk of her lips.
“I’ll, ah - get your breakfast started, Jongin,” she directs to him before darting back off into the kitchens.
It’s quiet between them, then. Jongin is confused mostly, struggling to make the connection between those warm, thoughtful doodles to the playboy actor that hits every headline of every news site.
“You’re the guy that likes my drawings?” Kyungsoo is saying suddenly.
“I guess I am,” Jongin mutters. The tension is palpable, neither sure what to do. Jongin wants to compliment the man on his drawings, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction.
He’s being insanely petty, he realizes.
Clearing his throat, he gets over himself and climbs onto the stool besides the actor, avoiding eye contact.
“They’re - uh, really cute. Your drawings. I appreciate the one you drew of - of me.”
Kyungsoo shifts besides him, repositioning himself on the stool. “Thank you,” he says. “For liking them. I don’t really draw much anymore, and I just started mindlessly doodling one day and...someone happened to like them.”
“They’re nice. You should draw more.”
Kyungsoo shrugs, almost modestly, and Jongin finally turns his head to face him, though his gaze still meets the counter awkwardly.
“I would if I had time,” Kyungsoo says. “I mean, it’s not like I ever had a passion for it or anything, I just like doodling dumb little things.”
“They’re not dumb,” Jongin interjects quickly. “Sometimes they’re the highlight of my day.” Jongin falters. “Sorry, that was - that sounded kind of pathetic.”
Kyungsoo chuckles then, subtly, barely audible over the hustle in the back kitchen. “It’s not pathetic,” he says. “I will admit that sometimes drawing them is the highlight of my day as well. Knowing someone liked them, knowing I was making someone’s day a bit brighter... It made every day start off a little less pointless.”
It’s unexpected, the sudden rush of warmth that floods Jongin’s chest.
“Sorry,” Kyungsoo says now, urgently. “That was pathetic.”
“It wasn’t. That’s actually - that’s kind of…” he trails off, uncertain of the right word. He wants to use sweet, but can’t find it in himself to say it out loud.
“It’s nice,” he ends up saying instead, quietly. The tension is thick between them. Restless. Awkward. Jongin shifts. Kyungsoo fidgets. Joohyun talks over the phone in the back kitchen.
After a reasonably long silence, Kyungsoo breaks it with a small, tentative voice. “Hey, I’m - I’m really sorry for being such an ass yesterday afternoon.”
Jongin shifts again, clearing his throat and fumbling with his fingers. “It’s fine, really, I - I should apologize. I didn’t mean to be so judgmental. I just got really defensive. I do it too, you know. Sleep around, I mean. Doesn’t everyone? You just get the hit of it because you’re famous.”
“I really am kind of an asshole, though.”
Jongin laughs then, shaking his head. “I mean, if you’re aware of it, you can’t be too bad, right?”
“Maybe I’m aware because it’s just that bad.”
“I don’t think so,” Jongin says. “Give yourself some credit.”
“Are you sure you’re the same guy from yesterday?” Kyungsoo asks, turning his head, and it’s the first time that morning they look at each other properly, the tension around them settling kindly into a relaxing, almost friendly atmosphere.
“I could be asking you the same thing,” Jongin chuckles. “First impressions don’t matter much, hm?”
Kyungsoo hums. “This is only the second time you’ve met me. For all you know, the first impression may be the right impression, and I just might be feeling unusually kind this morning.”
“You seem to want me to think you’re a jerk.”
The actor shrugs meagerly. “Just don’t want to raise your expectations,” he says, quieter now. Jongin tries to find the words to reply, but then Kyungsoo is speaking again, and changing the subject.
“How does the article look?”
“Looks great,” Jongin responds. “I’ll be editing it today and posting it sometime later this week, so you can expect that.”
“Nothing bad said about me, is there?” Kyungsoo asks with a chuckle.
“I’m being paid to say only good things about you, so no,” Jongin responds, laughing as well. “We got off to a bad start.”
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo agrees. “Sorry, again. Anyway, if we both eat here every morning, I guess we’ll be seeing each other more often, yeah?”
Jongin nods. He supposes so.
Suddenly, red appears at his peripheral vision, and he already knows what’s there, but is afraid to face it head on. He swallows that heavy feeling in his throat, and forces on a smile when Joohyun comes back out with his plate of eggs.
He takes it back. He doesn’t want to see the red string on himself anymore, and definitely not connected to someone as complicated as Do Kyungsoo.
part ii
Title: something up fate’s sleeve
Genre soulmate!au, romance, fluff
Rating: NC-17
Side Pairings (if any): Luhan/Xiumin
Warnings: [Click to view]smut, very slight language
Word Count: 20,681
Summary: The universe seems to really want Jongin and Kyungsoo to be together, despite their massive differences in lifestyles and personalities. After some time, they find that they might have more in common than they think.
Author's Note: To recipient - thank you for your prompts! It was hard to pick one and I switched a couple of times before settling on this! It didn’t turn out exactly the way I wanted it to, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Mods, thank you so much for being patient with me. And finally, thank you reader, for giving it a chance.
"Rise and shine, asshole!"
The words are practically thunder, pounding at Kyungsoo's sensitive ears and sending a sharp jolt of pain through his brain. He grumbles, blinking his eyes open wearily to the spackled ceiling of his bedroom, and letting it glaze over to the man standing at his door.
Sehun leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking nowhere near to hungover as Kyungsoo feels. The man has always had an insanely strong tolerance to alcohol, one that Kyungsoo envies.
"Shit," Kyungsoo mutters, clenching his eyes shut again when he realizes just how bright it is. The little punk must have shoved the blinds open, letting sunlight spill into his bedroom, unforgiving.
"Get up, Gatsby,” Sehun says. “Your manager called. He wants you to meet up with him at the usual place at nine."
"What time is it now?"
"Six."
"Six am? Why the hell are you waking me up now?"
"I was being considerate and thought you'd want some time to get your ass together before you went to see him."
Kyungsoo grumbles, pulling the comforter over his head. It's then that some details come back in little flashes - someone undressing him, him undressing someone, pressing them against him, against this very bed.
He turns to the other half of his bed, only to find emptiness and ruffled sheets.
"Uh,” Kyungsoo says. “Did I -?"
"Yep," Sehun responds. "They left about a half hour ago."
Kyungsoo is relieved. One less headache to deal with. "No more parties," he grumbles again, hand shooting up to massage his temples.
Sehun chuckles, doubtful. "Sure.”
As per usual routine, Kyungsoo tells his driver to wait for him behind the Lucky Diner. It’s his favorite place to get breakfast, and he goes early in the mornings - just when they’ve opened - to avoid the people who may recognize him.
“Joohyun, my savior,” Kyungsoo groans as he practically bursts through the diner doors. He throws himself onto his usual stool, resting his cheek against the cool counter. The waitress only eyes him with a perked brow, likely wondering what Kyungsoo’s got himself into this time.
"I need something for a hangover,” he says, or rather, slurs.
"Again?” Joohyun asks, amused. “This is the second time in a month, Kyungsoo."
He only groans in response. The waitress tsks at him before shuffling away into the kitchen, preparing his usual meal, but with added grease to help with the hangover.
“I swear, you and another regular of mine are always coming in with hangovers. Is drinking a hobby for you two? Does my diner attract hungover people?”
“Well, you gotta admit, Joohyun, your coffee does wonders for a headache.”
“I don’t want to be known for that,” she pouts through the little window that sees through into the kitchen. “He says that about my coffee too, though. My other regular, I mean. You know what? He likes his eggs with ketchup too, now that I remember.”
Kyungsoo chuckles against the sleek counter. “A man with good taste.”
“It’s still odd,” Joohyun says. “He loves your little napkin doodles, by the way.”
“He sees those, does he?” Kyungsoo says, raising his head to meet Joohyun’s eye smile through the small window.
“Yep. He always comes in very shortly after you leave, so that I haven’t cleaned up your spot yet, and he sees the drawings and always coos at how cute they are.”
“Tell him thanks, then,” Kyungsoo calls, smiling.
“You could do it yourself, you know,” Joohyun says, the sizzling of eggs muffling her voice slightly, and the smell wafting through the empty diner.
“I have a meeting with my manager soon.”
“Well, you could leave him a note then, yeah?”
“What does he look like?” Kyungsoo says. He pulls a napkin and pen up from behind the diner counter, resting it on the space before him.
“Are you going to draw him?” Joohyun asks. “I’m offended. I’ve asked you to draw me so many times in cute chibi form but you never bothered, and suddenly your eggs-with-ketchup soulmate gets a drawing without even having met you.”
“But you get my ravishing personality in person so I think the scales are even here.”
Joohyun rolls her eyes. Through the window, Kyungsoo sees her grabbing the ketchup and drizzling it onto his plate of eggs.
“He’s handsome,” Joohyun starts. “Seungwan calls him Jawline Guy, so I guess you can say he has a jawline sharper than most. He has sleepy eyes, though that might just be because we always see him in the morning. His lips are really pouty, too. It’s like they pop out at you, to be honest, but they look really damn kissable.”
“Well, someone’s been paying close attention,” Kyungsoo teases, arching an eyebrow.
“Hey, you asked.”
Kyungsoo’s pen works quickly over the napkin, sketching a quick, small little form. He exaggerates the features Joohyun’s pointed out, making his jawline sharp, his eyes appear sleepy and almost confused, and his lips into an ‘o’, like he’s pouting.
“Hair?”
“Scruffy. Cute bangs.”
“Clothes?”
“He gets dressed at work, so he comes in pajamas most of the time. He’s like a giant kid. All he needs is a teddy bear.”
Kyungsoo smiles at the visual Joohyun grants him, and he thinks it’s pretty cute. He sketches long bangs in front of his sleepy eyes, as well as a pajama top and bottom patterned with stars and crescent moons. For fun, he draws a small stuffed teddy bear in one of his hands, and the result is a cute little mini version of the man Joohyun’s described. In a small chat bubble off to the side, he writes in - Good morning! You have great taste in breakfast. ^^
“Here.” Kyungsoo slides the drawing across the counter just as Joohyun springs open the door separating the kitchen from the counter. “Tell him I appreciate his liking for my silly drawings.”
Joohyun smile softly at the drawing, cooing. She slides Kyungsoo’s plate of eggs across the counter, and he thanks her.
“He keeps them most of the time, you know.” Mischief plays along the corner of her lips, lilting up in a knowing way.
“Really?”
“Yeah. He really liked the puppy one. Said it reminded him of his old dog.”
He feels inexplicably warm inside his chest. “Honestly, I don't even know what goes through my mind when I draw these. Just a little something for fun as I eat, I guess. He seems sweet though.”
“He is. I’ll make sure he gets this one too, alright?”
Kyungsoo smiles gratefully, picking up his fork and knife as he begins to dig into his breakfast, heart oddly light.
His phone buzzes on the counter, and he glances at it, eying a text from Yixing, his manager, come in. There’s a link leading to Dispatch, and Kyungsoo already knows what he’s in for.
If you’re going to throw parties, try not to make it on headlines next time, alright? And don’t forget - you have an interview with Sulsul tomorrow.
Well, it was nice to pretend he was normal for a bit.
Jongin stumbles out the door clumsily, tripping over the mat as he shrugs his jacket on. Autumn mornings are the best for a good coffee, and he wishes he were home instead of stumbling out of a virtual stranger’s apartment.
She was okay. Really nice kisser, really nice personality. Otherwise, just a distraction.
Jongin battles with himself on whether or not he will simply skip going home to take a shower and instead go straight to the diner. He checks the time on his phone - it’s already seven. He doesn’t have much time, so when he reaches the intersection, he turns right instead of left, where the diner (and a good cup of coffee) awaits him.
He tries to walk the streets in a way that doesn’t say walk of shame - back straight, hands in his jacket pockets, head held high likes he’s not disappointed in himself once again. It proves hard to do when he’s hungover and aching for a good breakfast to pair with his coffee. Yifan is going to kill him when he shows up at work half drunk from last night. He doesn’t remember all of it. Luhan had dragged him out, an attractive girl bought him a drink, and the next second he was spread naked on aforementioned attractive girl’s bed.
It felt good last night, but all he feels today is stupidly, pitifully empty. What does he expect by now, though? To wake up after a one-night stand to the girl making pancakes and fall in love with her? Pathetic. He’d woken up with crust in his eyes and an ache in his bones, the cloudy day greeting him through the blinds. The girl had been in the shower, and there was a note on the bed beside him that said he should leave when he wakes up, and to please not make a mess.
Not a romance novel, he should know that by now.
He wonders, vaguely, when the red string will show up for him.
He rids that thought immediately, embarrassed at himself. He is one of the few people who can see the string, yes, but it's always been a bit, well, suspicious to him. Sure, he's the reason why his friends even got together (because he'd seen the string connecting them when they first met), but otherwise, he is wary about it, which Luhan thinks is funny, given that he can see it and he is still cynical about it.
Or maybe he's just bitter that it hasn't shown up for himself yet.
What a pretentious and annoying place to live, Jongin thinks, glaring at his surroundings. He’s always hated the city - the irritating noise, the sound of construction, the way people bustled through without any sense of manners. He’s getting the hit of it all now as he tries to push past early morning goers trying to get to their jobs. The diner he usually frequents stands just outside downtown borders, so he ignores the tempting cabs that pass him by, reminding himself that rent is due in just a week and he has little money to spare for a ride.
He feels like he can breathe once he is outside of the busiest part of the city, and he spots the diner some blocks away. He wills his headache to calm down and have some patience.
The diner is a small little thing, humble and hidden behind a giant fast food restaurant. Jongin very pointedly ignores the fast food restaurant and its irritating drive through to make his way to the diner instead.
There are people dotted here and there when he enters, sat in the red leather booths either alone or with a friend. Some of the faces are familiar, because he frequents this diner nearly every morning, so he simply gives them a nod of acknowledgment before taking a seat at the front counter. Joohyun immediately spots him through the window that sees through to the kitchen, and she smiles, disappearing only to reappear through the swinging door.
“The usual?”
“Please,” Jongin all but groans. It’s obvious he’s hungover. “Maybe double everything.”
The waitress perks an arched brow. “What is it with you men and drinking on weeknights?”
Jongin only grumbles, resting his forehead on the shiny counter and not bothering to ask what she means. He hears her walk off, and he takes the moment to himself, to gather his thoughts and regrets, and contemplate his life decisions.
It’s only a few minutes later that he hears a plate being placed on the counter before him, and he lifts his head to be greeted by a giant pile of scrambled eggs with ketchup on the side. There’s that good cup of coffee he’d been yearning as well, and he sighs, already feeling better. However, something else catches his eyes. The napkin Joohyun’s placed for him is drawn in something, and he smiles immediately, wondering what diner doodler has drawn today.
It’s a small figure, dressed in pajamas and holding a teddy bear. His eyes are sleepy, and his hair a mess. Jongin squints. Is this meant to be -
“It’s you,” Joohyun says, reading his thoughts. She’s wiping at a dish with a cloth towel when Jongin blinks up at her in confusion. “I told him of your little love for his doodles, so he drew you out of appreciation.”
Jongin’s brows shoot up, as does the corner of his lip. He draws his gaze back to the doodle wordlessly, taking in the details - like the pout of his lips, the moon and star pattern of his pajamas, and the little chat bubble off to the side. He smiles softly to himself, feeling a little warm in the chest. This is a nice gesture, he thinks. He’s already having a better day.
This is often the case anyway, Jongin thinks sadly as he digs into his breakfast within the next five minutes. His days are made by a stranger’s doodles on a dirty napkin. He doesn’t know what it is about them; they’re cute, and Jongin has a weakness for cute things.
Because life hates him, it doesn’t last too long. It’s pretty hard to have a good day when you’re a both a journalist and an introvert, not to mention still hungover.
“Do Kyungsoo.” Jongin reads the name quietly. It’s in type across the top of his schedule. A big name actor, apparently. Jongin wouldn’t know. He doesn’t watch much movies and television and is largely unfamiliar with celebrities that the nation is in love with. He supposes though, that if he is to interview him in a couple of days, he should do a bit of research on the guy.
Young actor with several awards, blah blah, handsome and smart, blah blah, new movie coming out soon, blah blah. Jongin scrolls aimlessly through the news articles on the guy. Clearly he gets plenty of coverage as it is, so why is Jongin the one who must interview him? Right, because his boss is a dick who enjoys watching him suffer.
He rolls his eyes at himself. Alright, Jongin, this is your job, you should be grateful for the opportunity to have your name attached to an interview with someone like this.
He scrolls through more articles, bored.
Versatile actor, blah blah, apparently funny as well when he doesn’t mean to be, blah blah - and oh? What’s this? Apparently he is notoriously known for being a playboy, according to the headline that reads South Korea’s playboy actor spotted leaving actress Park Minhee’s apartment. The headline catches Jongin’s attention briefly, but he scrolls down further, knowing full well from his journalism experience that it is simply clickbait. He tucks the piece of news away in a hidden pocket of his mind anyway, just to be aware.
After roaming the internet in search of this Do Kyungsoo (pretty average actor guy aside from the numerous articles about his promiscuity), Jongin edits an article that Luhan asked him to help him out with. Afterwards, he trains the new intern and prepares some questions for the coming interview with Do, making sure to ask about his new movie. He debates throwing in a question about the rumors on his active romantic life (a more professional term for sex life, he supposes), but he decides against it, not wanting to stoop down to that level for sales. Yifan will probably make him ask something along those lines, anyway. Greedy, inconsiderate asshole.
In all honesty, Jongin had been expecting a slicked-up jerk in a suit, or something.
When Do Kyungsoo arrives at the office the next day, he is in a simple button-up and jeans, and his hair looks as if there was an effort made on it, but not enough, some strands hanging over his forehead loosely.
“Kim Jongin,” he introduces, shaking the other man’s hand stiffly. Kyungsoo smiles - just as stiff - and takes the offered leather armchair across the table from Jongin.
“Sulsul would like to thank you for the exclusive interview,” Jongin says, and Kyungsoo nods curtly in response.
“It’s not a problem, Jongin,” the actor says, smiling tightly at him, and Jongin is glancing down at his laptop when Kyungsoo says this, but when he looks up, something odd catches his eye. His heart stops.
And he blanches.
It can’t be.
Slowly, as if mocking him, a thin red thread manifests itself curling around his pinky finger. Jongin swallows nervously, heart beating erratically, because this has never happened. He’s never seen the string on himself, not until now. It’s not exactly a welcome sight, even if he had been waiting for it, because it's a little hard to believe.
He stills when the string stretches itself across the space between him and the actor, and - suddenly - the other end wraps neatly around Do Kyungsoo’s finger, resting on his thigh.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“Shit,” he mutters with wide eyes, watching as the thread ties itself into a neat little bow.
“What?” Kyungsoo asks with a raised brow. Those brows are menacing.
Jongin clears his throat, averting his gaze, but the red lingers at his peripheral vision, and he suddenly feels nauseous. “Nothing,” he claims, repositioning himself on the couch. “Sorry. Uh. Onto your movie.”
He tries, he really does, to keep his attention on the matter at hand instead of the red string that dangles teasingly between him and the actor’s hand. It comes and goes, this string. It usually appears when soulmates first meet, and that is when Jongin sees it the clearest. Afterwards, however, it varies, playing hide and seek or usually appearing when the two soulmates are being particularly, well - romantic.
Jongin keeps fidgeting, praying internally for the string to vanish. It's made its point. Jongin would like for it leave him alone now.
Him, though? Do Kyungsoo of all people? The universe had to be fucking with him.
“Why do you keep staring at my hand?”
Jongin snaps his attention back up to the man.
“Looking for a ring?” Kyungsoo asks, arching a thick eyebrow. “I’m single.”
The actor shoots him a pointed look, face straight and at rest, as if he hadn’t just made a suggestive comment.
Jongin huffs, rolling his eyes as he glances away from the offending red string. His defenses kick in, and the snark makes its way out of his mouth on its own accord at Kyungsoo’s condescending words. “Tone down the arrogance,” he says. “Not everyone wants to sleep with you.”
“I didn’t say anything about sex. You’re the one that brought it up, just now.”
Jongin hums in disapproval. “Headlines were right about you.”
“Don’t be a cliche, Jongin.”
“I’m the cliche?”
“With all the ‘not everyone wants to sleep with you’ and ‘headlines were right about you’.”
“I don’t see how that’s any more of a cliche than you, playboy.”
Kyungsoo chuckles lowly. “Is that what they call me?”
“South Korea’s biggest playboy,” Jongin clarifies. He’s on the edge, and he tells himself to shut up, but the petty words just keep on coming. Bitterness will do that to you - push you until you’re hanging on by a thread and left with nothing but sour emotions feeding off misery.
The actor rolls his eyes carelessly. “You’re a journalist. Shouldn’t you know by now what news sites are willing to type up for a reaction?”
“So you claim none of it as true?”
Kyungsoo narrows his eyes, squinting at Jongin as the corner of his lip pulls up. “Is this on the record?” He glances at the laptop with a perked brow. “I thought this was an interview about my movie, not my sex life.”
“It is,” Jongin sighs, then feels himself redden. “Sorry. We got off track.”
The actor simply nods, curt, straightening his back and repositioning himself on the armchair.
The rest of the interview goes by smoothly. Jongin asks the questions he had written and Kyungsoo answers accordingly.
The string doesn’t make a reappearance.
“How was it?”
Jongin shrugs, shutting his laptop and sliding it across the table. Luhan pulls a face that can only say yikes.
“He that bad?”
“It wasn’t terrible,” Jongin admits. “I just need to learn when to shut my mouth.”
“You?”
“I don’t know. I got frustrated. And confused,” Jongin says, rubbing a hand over his face. Red continuously flashes in his memory, in the form of a string that had hung between him and the actor. He feels nauseous.
Luhan only perks a brow, crossing his arms against his chest. “Confused? What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you about it tonight, alright?” Jongin says, standing and picking his laptop back up. “Bar at nine. I need a drink or two.”
“Nine is late for you. Are you finally growing out of your old man habits of going home at seven pm?”
Jongin shoots him a meaningless glare. “Jongdae wants me volunteering at the hospital tonight at five.”
“Better improve that attitude then,” Luhan says with a playful chuckle. “I’m sure the volunteers need to be smiley and happy for the patients. What do you there anyway? Nothing serious, right? Would it look good on a resume?”
“I don’t know,” Jongin sighs, exasperated. “I don’t do it for the perks of looking good on a resume. Mostly I just hang out with the patients if they want company or something. You should try it. Maybe you’ll learn to be a bit more appreciative.”
Jongin’s grinning as he says this, and Luhan nudges him with a bony elbow, chuckling.
“9 it is,” Luhan gives in. “Minseok will be coming too, then.”
“Is he ever not? I’m used to the third wheel role already, you don’t need to warn me in advance. Just tell me if he ever gets tired of me being there too, I’m not ashamed to go drinking by myself.”
“You need more friends,” Luhan laughs. “And Minseok loves you. Have you forgotten that you’re the one that brought us together?”
Jongin’s grin falls gradually. He remembers that day clearly. Minseok, a barista at the time, had handed Luhan his espresso, and a twine of red had appeared between the two of them, curling around their pinky fingers. Luhan was a hopeless romantic, so when Jongin had told him later of what he’d seen, he immediately made a move on the barista, muttering thank god he’s cute.
“How could I forget,” Jongin says quietly, mostly to himself. Luhan chatters on about something else, when Do Kyungsoo is flashing through Jongin’s mind again, along with that dreaded string, and he swears at fate and the universe and whatever higher power there is for cursing him with this.
“Hey, mom,” Kyungsoo says, smiling widely at the woman on the armchair. Kyungsoo’s noticed that, when not taking treatment, she prefers to be off and away from the bed, as if proving that she is healthy and fine but he knows otherwise.
She smiles back at him and replies, but Kyungsoo’s attention is taken by the large vase of flowers on the bedside table, a collection of pinks and yellows with small flowers that he probably couldn’t identify. He perks a brow.
“Who are the flowers from?” he asks with a quirk of his lip. He’s glad someone came to visit his mother while he had been too busy to.
She grins fondly. “A volunteer came around the sixth floor handing out flowers to all the patients. He was very sweet.”
“Really?” Kyungsoo says with a mock frown. “He’s doing my job.”
His mother chuckles, bright with mirth. “Nonsense. Your flowers will always matter the most.” She smiles warmly at him, closing her book to rest it on her lap instead.
“How have you been?” Kyungsoo asks, placing his own vase of flowers besides the other.
“Not much different than I was this morning when you called, dear,” she says, and Kyungsoo chuckles.
“I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re not lonely.”
“I have plenty of company, don’t worry about me. Look at you, though. Another film on the way. So busy, my handsome son. You’re not lonely anymore, are you?”
Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I got a dog,” he grins. “I adopted him a couple of weeks ago. He helps.”
His mother smiles back, fondness in her eyes. “I can’t believe you got a dog and didn’t tell me. Well, I’ll just have to heal up right away so I can go home and meet him, right?”
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo laughs. “Heal fast. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“Other than the dog,” his mother begins, a bit more serious now, “you are fine, aren’t you? I know it gets stressful.”
“I came here to cheer you up, mom,” he says.
“Oh, but you know how I am,” she says. “And anyway! I told you! I’m fine. I have nice volunteers coming in and chatting with me. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Kyungsoo smiles, and nods. There is a genuine tone in her words, and he takes comfort in the fact that she is happy. She is the strongest, most brightest person he knows, and he is suddenly thankful for the hospital volunteers who come and keep her company when he cannot.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
Luhan nearly spits his drink out when Jongin tells him that - yes, apparently, his soulmate is famous movie actor, Do Kyungsoo, as terrible and horribly cliched that sounds.
“You’re fucking with me,” are the first words he says once he wipes his mouth.
“I wish I was.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I’m not.”
“You sure you weren’t just seeing things?”
“Would you appreciate if I said that about you and Minseok’s string?”
Luhan grumbles, while Minseok smiles comfortingly and rubs his boyfriend’s back in assurance.
“This proves it’s just bullshit,” Jongin says, sipping at his drink. “All of this red string stuff.”
“Jongin, your cynicism hurts us,” Minseok cuts in. “You’re part of the one-fourth of the population who can actually see it, and yet you doubt it? Amazing.”
It’s Jongin’s turn to grumble, frowning at his drink. “You guys got lucky. Maybe it’s right sometimes, but honestly - it can’t be this time.”
“The red string of fate is never wrong, Jonginnie,” Minseok says, waving his hand in the air dramatically, almost humorously. “How ‘bout you and this actor guy both get over yourselves and then you’ll see it?”
“I refuse to believe love is that easy,” Jongin says, his voice quiet now. “Love takes work. It can’t just be something decided in advance by something as questionable as fate.”
“Spoken like a true skeptic,” Luhan says, as he shakes his head in unhidden pity. “Love is what makes the world go around. I’m sure fate just wanted to make sure everyone’s got their own little special someone out there, especially for lonely, pitiful people like you whose entire life decisions are based on skepticism.”
“Come on, though,” Jongin tries. “Him?”
“I mean, just look how you’re acting, Jongin,” Luhan says with a teasing chuckle. “You’ve seen enough romantic comedies to know how this ends, right? Two people are at odds, but the audience already knows that it’s inevitably going to end in romance. It’s the Pride and Prejudice effect.”
“That’s not a thing,” Jongin says, rolling his eyes.
“Not the point,” Luhan says. “The point is you’re totally going to hook up with him. Give it a month.”
“God. Shut up,” Jongin groans, but there’s no menace in his words, and he throws his napkin at Luhan, who recoils in disgust.
“Yeah, listen to him, Jonginnie,” Minseok says, chuckling under his breath now. “Red string of fate is just doing you a favor and letting you know who you’re going to bed with next.”
“You’re both gross.”
“Not necessarily next, but more like forever,” Luhan says. “Soulmates, you know?”
It’s pretty much a habit by now for Kyungsoo to wake up to Oh Sehun in his apartment, probably with his ass on the couch and mouth full of something he’d found in Kyungsoo’s fridge. This morning is no different; the younger man lounges nonchalantly across Kyungsoo’s couch, hand stuck in a bag of potato chips. Kyungsoo seriously considers getting better friends.
“Mornin’,” Sehun calls as Kyungsoo pads into the living room after having taken a shower. It’s six am, and he needs to get to the diner before he heads off to his schedule for the day. Monggu is resting on Sehun’s lap, belly up and legs kicking in the air as he asks for rubs. Kyungsoo owns two spoiled brats.
He grumbles in response to Sehun, leaning over the couch to steal a chip. “What are you watching?”
“Dunno,” Sehun says through a full mouth. Kyungsoo wonders back around to the bathroom to finish up his morning routine as the younger goes on. “A documentary on soulmates, or something. About the acclaimed red string of fate and stuff.”
Kyungsoo huffs out a patronizing scoff. “You believe in that stuff?” he yells from the bathroom.
“I mean, I guess,” Sehun says. “You know there are actual people out there who see it, right? The string.”
“I don’t buy it,” Kyungsoo says through a toothpaste-foamed mouth.
“You sad little man. Tell me, do you enjoy rainy days and crying puppies?”
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, spitting and rinsing his mouth. “Love comes from the heart,” he says when he wipes his mouth. “Not from some higher force that doesn’t exist. It takes work. You don’t get it that easy.”
“I pity you,” comes a condescending tone in Kyungsoo’s living room, munching on his potato chips.
“I don’t need fate or destiny telling me who to love, thanks,” Kyungsoo says, wiping his hand on a towel and leaving the bathroom.
“That’s not the point,” Sehun says. His legs are kicked up on the coffee table, and Kyungsoo glares at him until he drops them to the carpet. “It’s about that hope. It’s about looking for them and finding them, and holding onto that belief that there is someone special out there waiting for you. You gotta admit it’s a nice thought.”
“Yeah, but then people get so wrapped up in finding them that they forget to actually, you know, live. What happens if you never find them, then? You’re left to die alone just because you believed all your life that you would find them, that fate had better plans for you, but you’re left to fend for yourself in the end, because that’s how it always is. You don’t get help.”
Sehun crinkles his nose at Kyungsoo. “This sounds personal,” he says.
“Not about me,” Kyungsoo says with yet another glare. He pulls at his jacket that’s wedged in between the couch arm and Sehun, until the latter relents and moves himself so Kyungsoo can pull it free. Shrugging it on, he makes his way out the door. “I just don’t want to waste a lifetime believing in something as silly as the red string of fate. Do you even hear how tacky that sounds?”
“Well, okay, Mr. Cynical,” Sehun says. “No wonder the people you sleep with never want to stay. You’re talkative in the mornings.”
“You started it,” Kyungsoo says childishly. “You owe me a bag of chips, by the way.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sehun waves a hand without looking at him. “Go and eat, already. You’re such a bummer. I, on the other hand, will continue to search for that perfect person because I’m needy and yearn for love and affection.”
Kyungsoo chuckles. “You’re only proving my point.”
“Sure, heartless.”
“Doesn’t bother me when the articles say it, doesn’t bother me when you say it.”
“Hey,” Sehun says now, picking his head up at the resigned tone in Kyungsoo’s bitter words. “You know I’m just joking, right? I mean, everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. I just like to mess with you. I know you’re not really, you know - heartless.”
“I know, Sehun,” Kyungsoo assures with a smile. “I know you’re not silly either, for wanting to believe. Everyone is different.”
Sehun smiles at him, nodding in understanding. “Thanks. Go eat now, you’re getting too damn skinny. Do they feed you on those movie sets?”
“I survive off of screenplays and the Lucky Diner’s coffee, you know this.”
“Go find your soulmate and maybe he’ll cook you a proper meal for the first time in your life.”
“Right, like I’m going to meet my soulmate at a breakfast diner.”
Sehun snickers, throwing a chip at Kyungsoo from across the room. “It’s called Lucky for a reason, isn’t it?”
Jongin has a terrible habit of being late for work.
Can he be blamed for preferring to sleep in? Nonetheless, Yifan had threatened him with his job, so today, he is forced to wake up at an ungodly hour if he still wants to make it to the diner and get to work on time.
His head lolls against the cab window as he drives through the city, sleepy eyes daring to shut. He manages to stay awake for the whole fifteen minutes, which he considers a feat in itself, and pays the driver accordingly. Joohyun will be surprised to see him in early, no doubt, knowing that he prefers to come in with the rest of the breakfast hour folks.
It’s nearing seven am, and Jongin just really needs coffee.
He opens the diner door, and it’s weird, seeing the diner nearly empty. In all honesty, he’d been expecting the diner to be completely empty, and was kind of looking forward to the peace, but to his surprise, someone is sitting at the counter - at his stool.
The thief turns his head at the sound of footsteps, and Jongin steps back a bit, surprised at who it is.
Do Kyungsoo. It’s a little jarring to see him, a well-known actor, here in this dingy diner.
“What are you doing here?” The words come out a littler harsher than Jongin had meant.
Kyungsoo parts his mouth in response, than furrows his brows. “Am I not allowed here?”
“I mean, it’s not that, but -”
“I come here every morning,” the actor says.
“I come here every morning.”
Joohyun chooses that moment to walk in, plate of eggs in one hand. She pauses at the scene before her, eyes flashing between Jongin and Kyungsoo.
“You’re early today, Jongin!” she exclaims. Then, with a frown, she says - “What’s with the icy mood in here, boys?”
Jongin swallows, taking his gaze to Joohyun instead. “I didn’t want to be late for work again so I came in early.”
The waitress makes an ah face, nodding in understanding as she slides the plate of eggs towards the other man sitting at the counter.
“This is Kyungsoo!” Joohyun says. “Or you might know him as the guy who’s always drawn those cute little napkin doodles for you.”
Jongin gapes at the actor. “You-?”
“He’s the-?”
They speak over each other, expressions mirroring the other’s - wide-eyed and mouth gaping. Jongin can’t quite seem to make the connection that all of those cute, warm drawings were made by Do Kyungsoo, a person who’s not very warm. Joohyun switches her gaze back and forth between them with an amused little quirk of her lips.
“I’ll, ah - get your breakfast started, Jongin,” she directs to him before darting back off into the kitchens.
It’s quiet between them, then. Jongin is confused mostly, struggling to make the connection between those warm, thoughtful doodles to the playboy actor that hits every headline of every news site.
“You’re the guy that likes my drawings?” Kyungsoo is saying suddenly.
“I guess I am,” Jongin mutters. The tension is palpable, neither sure what to do. Jongin wants to compliment the man on his drawings, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction.
He’s being insanely petty, he realizes.
Clearing his throat, he gets over himself and climbs onto the stool besides the actor, avoiding eye contact.
“They’re - uh, really cute. Your drawings. I appreciate the one you drew of - of me.”
Kyungsoo shifts besides him, repositioning himself on the stool. “Thank you,” he says. “For liking them. I don’t really draw much anymore, and I just started mindlessly doodling one day and...someone happened to like them.”
“They’re nice. You should draw more.”
Kyungsoo shrugs, almost modestly, and Jongin finally turns his head to face him, though his gaze still meets the counter awkwardly.
“I would if I had time,” Kyungsoo says. “I mean, it’s not like I ever had a passion for it or anything, I just like doodling dumb little things.”
“They’re not dumb,” Jongin interjects quickly. “Sometimes they’re the highlight of my day.” Jongin falters. “Sorry, that was - that sounded kind of pathetic.”
Kyungsoo chuckles then, subtly, barely audible over the hustle in the back kitchen. “It’s not pathetic,” he says. “I will admit that sometimes drawing them is the highlight of my day as well. Knowing someone liked them, knowing I was making someone’s day a bit brighter... It made every day start off a little less pointless.”
It’s unexpected, the sudden rush of warmth that floods Jongin’s chest.
“Sorry,” Kyungsoo says now, urgently. “That was pathetic.”
“It wasn’t. That’s actually - that’s kind of…” he trails off, uncertain of the right word. He wants to use sweet, but can’t find it in himself to say it out loud.
“It’s nice,” he ends up saying instead, quietly. The tension is thick between them. Restless. Awkward. Jongin shifts. Kyungsoo fidgets. Joohyun talks over the phone in the back kitchen.
After a reasonably long silence, Kyungsoo breaks it with a small, tentative voice. “Hey, I’m - I’m really sorry for being such an ass yesterday afternoon.”
Jongin shifts again, clearing his throat and fumbling with his fingers. “It’s fine, really, I - I should apologize. I didn’t mean to be so judgmental. I just got really defensive. I do it too, you know. Sleep around, I mean. Doesn’t everyone? You just get the hit of it because you’re famous.”
“I really am kind of an asshole, though.”
Jongin laughs then, shaking his head. “I mean, if you’re aware of it, you can’t be too bad, right?”
“Maybe I’m aware because it’s just that bad.”
“I don’t think so,” Jongin says. “Give yourself some credit.”
“Are you sure you’re the same guy from yesterday?” Kyungsoo asks, turning his head, and it’s the first time that morning they look at each other properly, the tension around them settling kindly into a relaxing, almost friendly atmosphere.
“I could be asking you the same thing,” Jongin chuckles. “First impressions don’t matter much, hm?”
Kyungsoo hums. “This is only the second time you’ve met me. For all you know, the first impression may be the right impression, and I just might be feeling unusually kind this morning.”
“You seem to want me to think you’re a jerk.”
The actor shrugs meagerly. “Just don’t want to raise your expectations,” he says, quieter now. Jongin tries to find the words to reply, but then Kyungsoo is speaking again, and changing the subject.
“How does the article look?”
“Looks great,” Jongin responds. “I’ll be editing it today and posting it sometime later this week, so you can expect that.”
“Nothing bad said about me, is there?” Kyungsoo asks with a chuckle.
“I’m being paid to say only good things about you, so no,” Jongin responds, laughing as well. “We got off to a bad start.”
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo agrees. “Sorry, again. Anyway, if we both eat here every morning, I guess we’ll be seeing each other more often, yeah?”
Jongin nods. He supposes so.
Suddenly, red appears at his peripheral vision, and he already knows what’s there, but is afraid to face it head on. He swallows that heavy feeling in his throat, and forces on a smile when Joohyun comes back out with his plate of eggs.
He takes it back. He doesn’t want to see the red string on himself anymore, and definitely not connected to someone as complicated as Do Kyungsoo.
part ii