17 BH 784 *oneshot*
Pairing: HimUp
Rated: PG13 (since this prompt is so similar to my DaeLo soulmate fic I made this story kind of a crack fic)
Length: 2.5K
Himchan had watched a movie about soulmates once that had stuck with him even years later. Where the two had met on the top floor of some massive building in New York and it was snowing and they kissed for the first time under the falling flakes, soft romantic music playing in the background.
His mother said that was unrealistic and not to assume that’s how it actually worked.
His cousin told him only women cry at romantic comedies and to grow a pair before he brought shame to their family.
But he was one hundred percent positive that when he finally met the person whose tattoo linked up with his that there would be fireworks and the world would stop and everyone would take a second to think about how he had just met the person he was made for.
The best part of becoming an adult and taking care of his own life was the anticipation of whether or not he would be chosen to have a soulmate. Some people found out at eighteen when they graduated high school and slid into their grown up life immediately. Others didn’t realize until a little bit older, but it was always when they were mentally prepared to handle the news and not a second earlier.
Himchan knew that he would be chosen from the day he was five years old and his teacher introduced her husband and showed the class their matching tattoos. He can remember being captivated by the way they found each other after almost six years of searching and wanting that in his life. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to be given the gift.
When his eighteenth birthday came and went without any fanfare he was fine with it. He was just starting college and still living at home and so maybe he just needed a little bit more time to prepare himself.
And after his twentieth birthday when he moved into his first apartment and spent the night staring wide-eyed at his ceiling and waiting for the burn to start in somewhere on his body he was a little more anxious but there was still time he assured himself.
But when he hit twenty-one he had finally started to think that maybe he had been mistaken his whole life. Maybe he wasn’t anything special and had deluded himself for all these years. There wasn’t someone out there who would meet him in those magical fluttering snowflakes and take his breath away.
He was just boring old Himchan to the universe.
The branding started in slow one day while he was doing his dinner dishes in his still empty apartment a year later. At first he thought the water was just too hot on his thin skin so he pulled his hands out to let it cool a little. It took him an embarrassingly long (so long that he would never admit that he was close to panicking and calling the hospital) amount of time to understand that the tingling burn racing across his skin was the universe finally apologizing for calling him boring. He watched as the numbers appeared on his flesh, red at first and too swollen to see, and then start to become legible the more the pain dissipated.
17 BH 784
The random letters and numbers swam in front of his eyes. He mouthed them to himself a few times with a confused frown.
“What the hell?”
No matter how long he stared at them they didn’t make any more sense. Himchan held his wrist and watched from more signs, a name would do great, but nothing came all that long night.
“Maybe it’s a birthdate.”
He rolled his eyes at his cousin the next day and pulled his arm back. “Yes Daehyun, they were born in 784 that makes perfect sense. My soulmate is one thousand and five hundred years old.”
Daehyun stuck his tongue out at him. “It’s probably a prison number then. He was arrested for stealing extra-small condoms and is now someone’s bitch. You’ve got competition for that asshole.”
Another secret he would take to his grave was how many prisons he called asking how they numbered their inmates and hanging up both disappointed and relieved by the answers. Sometimes he hated Daehyun.
The weeks that he spent searching turned into months which slowly passed into years. He would never give up looking but he was starting to become run down and feeling hopeless.
“I don’t need to stay the whole week, mom. My apartment’s just twenty minutes from you.” Himchan folded his laundry while his mother tried for the fourth time to convince him that spending a week at home while on vacation was better than spending it curled up in his own apartment and binge-watching dramas on Netflix.
“If you stay home you’ll get home-cooked meals every night.” She reminded him. “And someone to do your laundry.”
He was twenty-five and his mother still treated him like he was fifteen and couldn’t take care of himself. Sometimes it was nice, like when he didn’t feel good and she’d come stay with him until he was better. But most of the time it was a little annoying. They both knew he would get tired of arguing and would agree eventually.
“Fine.” He sighed. “I’ll be there on Sunday night.”
“Good. You can take the trash out on Monday morning then. Your father’s off that day and now he won’t have to get up early to get the trash cans outside.”
Chores. Great. He was probably going to be ordered to mow the grass while there. Maybe even wash the dishes. It wasn’t like he was a grown man now or anything
“And sometime during the week you’ll need to mow. The yard’s starting to look a little wild.”
--
Ever since he was younger he had suffered horrible insomnia when he was on a mattress that wasn’t the one he was used to. It took him three months to get used to the new bed in his apartment but now he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Now that he was back home for a week he was going to have to get used to his old bed again. There was no point in even trying so Himchan decided to stay downstairs far away from his parent’s bedroom and spend the night watching the television.
At around six in the morning Himchan could hear the garbage truck growling its way down the street and with a gasp of alarm he realized he had forgotten to set the barrels outside the night before like his mother had asked him to. He hurriedly grabbed the closest pair of shoes and the robe hanging on the back of the kitchen chair and rushed outside before it could drive past.
“Wait!” He waved his arms until the giant truck rumbled to a stop on the street. “I’ll bring them out!”
The two barrels were heavier than he could handle so he pushed one and tried to pull the other behind him but it got stuck in the door.
“Here let me help you.” A soft voice interrupted his grumbling and he lifted his head to see the amused face of the truck driver. “I’ll take this one for you.”
Himchan was too busy trying to shove the door open to notice anything special about the helpful man but he wasn’t so blind that he couldn’t appreciate the way his unzipped jumpsuit clung to the curve of his ass as he walked away.
“Is Mr. Kim sick?” He was waiting by the back of the truck as Himchan finally unstuck himself and pulled the overloaded trash can behind him.
“He’s asleep. My mom still makes me do my old chores when I stay with them.” Himchan handed the barrel over and finally got a good look at the surprisingly young trash man. His hair was hidden under the denim hat emblazoned with the name of the trash company on it but dark brown tufts stuck out around the bottom and curled under his ears. Small eyes contrasted oddly well with the plump lips and Himchan wasn’t sure why but the freckle on the bridge of his nose was the weirdest turn on he thought he had ever encountered. Even the sweat staining his white tank top was arousing. It was way too early in the morning for this. “Where’s Mr. Lee?”
When he lifted the barrel over his head to pour into the trash compactor Himchan had to bite back the moan building in his throat because fuck this tiny slip of a boy had curves and ripples and muscles that could hold him up for hours and still have enough strength t-
“He retired last year.” The relaxed tone didn’t indicate he could see Himchan’s secret thoughts in his face. “I replaced him.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, thanks for stopping.” He didn’t know why he was apologizing, why was he rambling? “And please don’t tell my mother I forgot to put them out earlier.”
The boy’s eyes disappeared when he smiled and it made Himchan’s heart pound out a furious rhythm in his chest. “Scout’s honor.” He promised, handing over the second barrel and turning back to his truck.
Himchan took the empty trash barrels to the corner of the yard and glanced back to see the unnamed garbage man checking something off on his clipboard. He looked up and waved at Himchan again before putting the truck into drive and pulling away from the curb.
Sighing, Himchan wished he wasn’t so damn adamant about waiting for his soulmate. Kissing someone occasionally would be nice. Even holding hands would keep him satisfied until he found the hand he was supposed to be attached to for forever.
The barrel in his arms suddenly fell to the road with a loud bang and began rolling down the street but Himchan didn’t notice. He was staring wide-eyed and opened mouth at the license plate of the truck slowing down the block to grab someone else’s trash.
“17 BH 784” He mouthed to himself. “17 BH, 17 BH, 17… Wait!” He tripped over the curb but didn’t slow, running as hard as he could to the surprised boy standing by the road with another trash can in his arms. “Seventeen,” Himchan gasped, “Seventeen!”
He was too busy panting to see the concerned glance around the other made. “Are you okay? Do you need someone to help you?”
Himchan managed to lift the sleeve of his robe and wave his arm wrist around, pointing to the license plate on the truck and back to his wrist. “It’s you, it’s you, it has to be you.”
“I don’t underst-“
“Are you a soulmate?” Himchan reached for his arm to see if there was something inked into the same location but it was jerked out of his grasp and hidden behind the smaller boy’s back before he could see for sure. “It’s you.” He repeated again, eyes scanning intently over the wary face staring back at him. “I know it. You’re mine.”
The boy took a step backwards and gave him a disbelieving onceover. “I’m not sure if you’re my type?”
Himchan huffed in disbelief and pointed to his chest. “I’m perfect and you would never find anyone better than me.” He realized he couldn’t frown angrily at him because the thick avocado mask he had put on before bed the night before had dried over his face and horror filled him as he looked down at the flowered robe flapped open and his old faded blue boxers on full display for everyone to see. With a yelp he squeezed it shut and held a finger up. “Give me ten minutes!”
“I’ll be here!” The boy called to his back while he ran jerkily in the hot pink and too small house slippers of his mothers.
He hurriedly washed the green mask off and ran a comb through his hair until he looked a little bit more human. A pair of jeans were pulled on so quickly that he tripped and fell into the bed with a curse. If he had known everything was going to be set into motion today (because everyone accepted having a soulmate by now but the least the universe could do was set up convenient meeting times as well) then he would have prepared better. He would have gotten a haircut and spent two hours trying on everything in his closet so he didn’t have to race out the door in his gym shoes, dirty jeans and a baggy t-shirt he’d been sleeping in since he was fourteen.
The boy, his soulmate Himchan thought with sudden anxiety, was still waiting patiently for him by the back of the truck, his thumb rubbing across the marks on his wrist that Himchan still couldn’t see.
“Oh.” The way his eyes widened and he licked his lips when he looked back up and saw Himchan dressed normally made him feel smug and sure of himself again. “Okay I get it now.” He blushed all the way across his nose and down his neck. “I hadn’t even been looking for you.”
“Why the hell not? I’ve been looking for three years!”
The boy shrugged. “My parents weren’t soulmates so when I found out last year that I was one they encouraged me not to get my hopes up over it. So I dated a few people and never worried about it.
Mildly offended, Himchan lifted the opened top of his coveralls and read the name stitched over the pocket in black thread.
Jongup. He mouthed it to himself, liking the way it rolled across his tongue.
“I’m the greatest you’ll ever get you little asshole. Capital t, capital g. The greatest.”
Finally Himchan saw a laugh burst out from him. Loud and happy and honest. “That’s all I needed to hear. I guess you’ll do.” He pulled Himchan against him by his t-shirt and smiled up at him. “What’s your name?”
“Himchan.” He breathed. The suddenness of breathing in the same air as the boy he’d been dreaming about for three years was too much for him to handle right now. “So it’s true? It’s really you?”
Jongup took a deep breath and pulled his arm out from behind his back where he had been hiding it for the last ten minutes. The Greatest was scrawled across his skin in an exact replica of Himchan’s handwriting. “Seems like it to me.” He scratched at the corner of Himchan’s jaw and flicked a missed piece of green clay off to the side. “You don’t wear women’s house shoes and robes and Shrek masks every night, right?”
He surged forward, pressing Jongup to the cold metal of the truck and kissed him so deeply that his head was swimming by the time he pulled back. “What if I do?”
“I’m okay with it as long as you do that first.” Jongup was breathless and glassy eyed, licking the taste of Himchan off of his lips. “My shift’s over after three more neighborhoods. Want to come?” The sly eyebrow raised his direction had Jongup sputtering and turning red in the cheeks. “You’re one of those people who say that’s what she said after everything aren’t you. I want a do-over. New soulmate.”
Himchan kissed him again until the complaints disappeared and Jongup was whimpering into his mouth. “The. Greatest.”