our bittersweet shit is a tragedy
title: our bittersweet shit is a tragedy
pairing: hfb/exo
rating: g
1a
It takes three months. Three fucking months for Gia to realise something’s wrong. She should have known. If life was going to fuck a soul bond up, then obviously it would be her. Typical.
“It’s not like that. Just let me-” Yifan cuts himself off mid-sentence, his previously desperate voice turning into a deep, irritated sigh. Gia doesn’t understand why he’s annoyed. He’s not the one whose life is breaking apart.
“Just let you what? Explain? Fine! Go ahead.” Gia knows her voice is too loud, but she deserves this at the very least. Who cares about the fact that everyone and their mothers are staring at her? She’s broken. “Explain how you still can’t see colours even after you’ve met me.”
Yifan’s eyebrows furrow and his lips purse together, his eyes looking tired and infuriated. Gia laughs.
“You can’t. Because you’ve been lying all this time.” Yifan opens his mouth to say something, but Gia shakes her head. She’s not having any of this. She deserves more than this, whatever the fuck this is, despite the world literally telling her that no, she really doesn’t. “Yifan, I looked at you and my world stopped being black and white. But you’re standing here and everything is still just shades of grey to you. And even though I love you-” because she does, now, even though it’s only been three months. It might seem stupid and too fast but he is her mate. It’s just that, apparently, she’s not his. “-I can’t take you away from the person you’re meant to be with. Someone’s world is still black and white because you’re not in it yet. Yifan, please, I’m begging you, bring colour to their life the way you brought colour into mine.”
2a
It starts happening on a cool day in November. Gab is walking to the university library when she starts feeling something on her lips. The edges of her vision are starting to blur, slowly turning dark. She blinks. Not here, she pleads; and then she starts to fall.
She can’t hear anything, she never can with these visions. There’s just the low hum of silence ringing constant in her ears.
There’s still darkness everywhere. She can’t see anything but she knows she’s not in her life anymore, this is his, whoever he is. She can feel lips pressed onto hers, onto- he’s kissing someone.
An aching feeling of jealousy bubbles up inside her, and she knows, okay, she shouldn’t feel as bad as she does because it’s not like she’s never kissed anyone before. But to actually feel it when your mate receives actions of love from someone who isn’t you- it feels like complete, utter shit.
+
She can see, the next time. She can feel her mate smiling, can feel the way the girl’s hair feels in between her fingers. She can practically hear the thud of the girl’s back onto a bed.
This isn’t how she ever wanted her life to be.
+
She meets who she assumes are the girl’s parents, though they don’t look anything like her. Their mouths move but she can’t hear anything. Wouldn’t matter anyway since she knows her mate is from, or at least lives in, China.
The girl is beautiful.
There’s a ring on her finger. And somehow, Gab just knows.
At least she didn’t have a vision when he proposed. Be thankful for the little things, she supposes.
+
There’s a part of her that hopes it won’t happen, though the likelihood of it is very low. She doesn’t know how to brace herself, she knows what’s coming, but how do you prepare for this? How do you prepare for the wedding of the person you’re supposed to live your life with, your mate?
She wonders if he’d just given up, seen the unfamiliar places she was in and decided he couldn’t wait anymore- didn’t want to. Eighteen years is a long time, after all. But then, maybe, he really is in love with her. By some sick twist of fate, maybe Gab was mated to one of the Non-believers.
It doesn’t matter now. They’re getting married.
There’s a lot of red in their wedding. White and gold, too. She has a pretty smile. Gab gets it. She gets the appeal.
+
She gets the happiness, too. She can feel it in the way he doesn’t stop smiling. She can feel it in their kisses and the way they hold hands, and it kills her.
She just hopes his visions of her all throughout his life without her kills him, too.
3a
Kai is one of the unfortunate people who don’t have marks on their skin, or dreams, or visions, or anything. She still has a mate, she knows that. Only less than three percent of the population don’t have mates. She’s not that unlucky.
(At least, she hopes.)
It’s as they say, everything will turn out okay. And god, yes, it’s said like a mantra to calm her down or something, like everyone born without marks or visions can’t even handle the uncertainty. She knows the statistics, okay, because maybe they’re right, maybe it does get her on edge that she doesn’t know shit. She knows she has one of the rarest types of bonds but she’s strong enough for this. She can do this.
(Except, she learns, she can’t.)
She meets him at a train station, because life isn’t quite done screwing with her, evidently. There aren’t a lot of people, but he’s far away. Their eyes meet and it’s like she’s been thrown against a live electric fence. She almost stumbles. She doesn’t know what to do; she can vaguely hear the announcement of the next train arriving, but it doesn’t register, not really. He’s here, in front of her, no matter how big the distance is between them. And maybe one of them should move, should do something, should run towards the other. Kai almost does, she takes a step nearer, but then- he looks away and boards the train, rubbing at his chest.
And now, she really doesn’t know what to do.
(She cries- a lot. That’s apparently the only thing she’s good at.)
(She doesn’t think about the way his face had twisted when he saw her, his eyebrows furrowing and his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed tight against each other as if disgusted.)
(She does. It’s horrible. Her heart feels like it’s been beaten and set on fire.)
The next time someone asks her what type of bond she has and if she’s met her mate yet, she smiles sadly, shakes her head, and says, “I’m Unbonded.”
4a
Isa is pretty sure it’s the world’s idea of a joke, to be a Dreamer and also suffer from parasomnia. School taught her that there’s no proof of those two being correlated, and the internet proved what her teacher had already told her before, and her family pointed out that weird sleeping behaviours is a family thing, not just a Dreamer thing.
She sees the humour in it, doesn’t really think it’s a big deal, but it makes it a little bit harder for her. It’s hard to tell between dreams and reality, sometimes. There’s always that feeling at the back of your head, the possibility of still being asleep. And even at the age of twenty-one, Isa has difficulties pinpointing which parts of her past happened or not, if they’re dulled memories or too vivid dreams.
And she can’t sleep. It’s been three days, and every time she even just drifts away, images of her mate pop up in her head. The past few weeks, actually, he’s been a constant. That’s one of the indicators that you’re about to meet them soon, and Isa was excited. It had been good. But the past few days he’s always in pain in them. She knows why- it’s the stress, it’s never actually having any time to sleep because weddings suck. She has to bake about a billion and one things and why did she ever agree to this, anyway. And she still has to man the counter at the coffee shop, because life sucks, why not.
The bell by the door rings as someone comes in, and Isa has to struggle to even open her eyes, much more stay still and sell things. Parts of her body feel like static and other parts feel like nothing at all, and when she looks at the customer to hand them their order, they just look like a blurry blob of what could be a human being, even as Isa keeps blinking and narrowing her eyes. She just wants to sleep.
Which- might actually be what she’s about to do, because suddenly everything is blurry and her face is on the floor.
+
It’s been a month and a half.
Isa’s mostly been holed up in her room trying to sleep, even if she’s past the recommended eight and a half hours a night. Every time she goes to the café everything hurts, and she can’t take it. She’s desperate, even though she knows what’s happening- what has already happened. She keeps sleeping anyway.
You can’t describe the difference between soulmate dreams and normal dreams to a non-Dreamer, other than the nondescript, It doesn’t feel the same way. Isa wishes there was no distinction so she could still fool herself into believing that nothing’s wrong.
But it’s been a month and a half, and every time he’s in Isa’s dreams he’s not right. He’s not him. He’s an idea, a mere thought, a wish.
She’s not stupid. She knows what this is. It wasn’t her stress.
There are only two reasons soulmate dreams stop:
1. You’ve met them.
2. They’re dead.
5a
Raine can’t do it. Jongin is… he’s beautiful. He has the most stupidly wonderful smile, the most amusing laugh, and the way he moves is art. But she can’t do it, she can’t. He’s not the one.
They always hold hands, always go out together, always cuddle during movies, but it’s not him she needs. And she’s pretty sure that means she’s not what he needs either. She tries to make it clear to Jongin, she does. She throws around the word friend the way assholes do, and she sees the way Jongin looks at her after. It’s for the best, she almost wants to say every time.
They’d met during a friend’s recital, and Jongin was there on the stage dancing, liquid in his movements yet amazingly precise. He smiled when they were introduced and-god, it doesn’t matter, they’re not-this can’t be.
She knows that people date before they’ve met their mate, some people even date after, but she doesn’t want to be that girl. And yeah, the mark on her ribs is incredibly vague and gives her absolutely nothing to go on, but that’s how it is, that’s life.
And apparently, Jongin taking his shirt off after running with her, that’s life, too.
“Like what you see?” he asks, smirking, because if Jongin is anything (other than not her mate), it’s a walking cliché.
She shakes her head, frowning. She would be shouting meaningless insults at him right now if her chest didn’t feel like it was going to give up on her. And she knows it’s not from the running, is the thing, it’s the very worst thing.
He’s smiling at her the way he always does, the way he can’t seem to stop himself from doing. “Look here,” he tells her. And as if life doesn’t hate her enough, Jongin twists his body, showing the small part of his back that says-
Raine.
1b
Yifan’s not actually as much of an asshole as he’s made out to be. He doesn’t know where the accusations are always coming from. Yes, he towers over everyone; yes, he has abnormally huge hands; yes, he looks like he could murder you; but he’s a person, which is something people often forget about him, for some reason.
It gets worse when they hear about Gia. Having just met on the streets, they don’t have many mutual friends, but those who do know her treat him like shit. Which, really, is understandable. He’d even go as far as saying he deserves it. Because he’s a coward. Who doesn’t know how to use words. Who feels like absolute shit.
It’s not like he’d meant to do it, he hadn’t planned on lying to her for that long, but he didn’t know what to do. It was so obvious that Gia loved him, and every time he tried to tell the truth Gia would be looking up with her eyes shining, like Yifan was light to her, her guiding star. And how do you say anything when someone is looking at you like that, when your heart is hammering in your chest, and you know that you feel the same way. It’s near impossible, for people like Yifan. He doesn’t know words. And yes, he speaks four languages, but that’s not the point. Technical things are easier, grammar and vocabulary are easy, but feelings- feelings are the fucking enemy. Yifan’s never known how to deal with them, after all.
“You fucked up, you know that right?”
Yifan grumbles against his pillow, wondering how long it will take for him to suffocate, because why is Luhan here and being completely unhelpful, just go back to China and leave him alone, please.
“You could just tell her,” Luhan continues, because social cues, he does not get them, “It’ll be easier for the two of you.”
Yifan sighs, and under his breath he mutters, “It’ll be easier for me if I punch your face.”
Luhan laughs, because nothing can faze him. “I heard that. You’re as good of a punch as you are a boyfriend.”
And really, Yifan does not deserve this. Everything was a huge misunderstanding, why did it have to go on this fucking long.
2b
Luhan doesn’t know why his mate is so sad. Every time he gets visions of her she’s always in pain, always aching, even when she’s happy. Which doesn’t make much sense when he says it, but he can feel it; when she’s out with her friends and laughing, there’s still the buzz of pain in her chest.
It hurts him, he doesn’t even know who she is, but it hurts.
He has a vision when he’s on set once, and if that isn’t already bad enough, the sudden ache that he can feel in his whole body hits him like punches all over. She’s been drinking, Luhan can vaguely taste it on his tongue. She’s standing up, looking at some boy, and suddenly they’re on a bed and Luhan can feel ghost touches on his skin, hands that are too rough and too big, and what the fuck.
She’s needy when she kisses and the boy is just as insistent, and he can feel his tongue in his mouth and-oh my god, he never asked for this, what the fuck did he do to deserve this shit.
He can feel his body, his own body, shaking, but hers is moving and hands are everywhere and this just isn’t fair.
They stop, though, and he can feel tears; she’s shutting her eyes, sitting up with her hands covering her face. She’s miserable. He doesn’t know what’s happening, wishes he could reach out to her or something, but it’s impossible and the pain won’t leave.
Luhan feels tears going down his cheek, and when he opens his eyes to see his world, his face is wet with salt water and the pain hurts more than ever.
3b
Chanyeol thinks he’s dying.
His chest has been hurting for a week now and he doesn’t remember ever doing anything that could cause this, and he doesn’t want to go to a doctor over pain he can handle. Given, it’s pain that he can barely handle, but the important thing is that he can bear this. He can do this, okay, he’s not going to use the little money he has left for an overpriced doctor who will probably just tell him to start eating healthy, and lay off the burgers, son, they’re gonna kill you. Which, yeah, huh, sure, Mr. Doctor Man, sure.
(And if he, out of spite, buys the biggest burger his broke college ass can get his hands on, it’s justified, okay, no one can judge him.)
It always hurts more in the morning, just as he arrives at the train station. It’s probably all the running he does to get there on time, but it’s not like he can just stop running. He has things to do, like college, for example.
He knows this could just be a simple thing, could just be something that would go away with some pills and a regulated diet, but he has no money, he has no means, and what if he dies before he even meets his mate, god, and they’ll just feel it. He knows the science, at least the parts they teach in school, he knows that the pain experienced when your mate dies is even worse than when you withdraw yourself from them. The pain is supposedly dizzying; some say you feel what your mate feels when they die. Some have even done more dangerous, deadly things to get rid of the pain. And maybe he’s exaggerating, but possibilities, okay, everything is possible.
He could die from this pain. And the pain that his mate will feel, it might kill them.
4b
Jongdae doesn’t know what it is about him. He knows he’s good-looking, he owns a mirror, for god’s sake, and self-confidence is not a thing he lacks. He’s a good person, he’s nice, he’s been told that he has a very pretty smile. So, see, he doesn’t get it. And he’s sure- he’s a hundred and one percent sure that it was her. So what is it about him that put that look on her face?
She looked annoyed, almost homicidal, and like all the life inside her was drained from just looking at him. Dreamers get the least amount of shock (as in, actual, physical shock) when they see their mates for the first time, next to the Named, but the complete lack of surprise and happiness on her face was just- anticlimactic? heart-breaking? a punch in the fucking face?
And it’s not his fault, okay, that when he just couldn’t laugh it off anymore, he hightailed out of that shop as soon as he got what he came for. She’s scary.
Okay, so it’s a little bit his fault.
Maybe he should have at least introduced himself. Or gotten her name.
Well, fuck.
5b
It’s one of his flaws, not realising his mistakes until they’re already done. It’s also one of them, not being able to fix those mistakes after.
He’d been so sure, hadn’t even thought of the possibility that maybe, just maybe they weren’t meant to be together.
It’s such a rare case, to have a mate who’s not mated to you. He didn’t even think, not even for a second.
Evidently, he should have.
“Jongin… why is my name on your back?” she says it like she’s confused, but she’s trying to hide the smile on her face. He’d be confused, too; it’s been so long since they’ve had this… whatever they do. But Jongin thought she’d appreciate them taking it slow. Besides, he’d wanted it, too.
He laughs. “Because you’re my mate.”
Her face shuts down, turns offended and ice cold. “This isn’t funny, Jongin.”
Jongin raises his eyebrow. “It’s not supposed to be.”
Raine just stares, though. She doesn’t say anything. Just stares and shakes her head, her eyes narrowing.
And Jongin doesn’t understand, for a while. They keep staring at each other, and Jongin-
“I’m not your mate, am I?” his voice comes out strained, devastated. Raine sighs. “This- this isn’t possible, we’re- you can’t tell me you don’t have anything on you, Raine. Anything.”
She looks sorry now, teary-eyed. “I’m Marked, Jongin. I don’t have a name on me, I have a birthmark that makes no sense.”
“That’s not-”
“Possible?” She smiles at him, sad, pitying. “Less than three percent don’t have mates, and less than ten…” She pauses, and Jongin wishes she would just get on with it, get this over with so he can wallow in sadness and pain and the longest fuck up of his life, but she doesn’t continue.
It doesn’t matter, anyway, he paid attention in school, he knows. “Less than ten share a mate.”
1c
It hurts. Physically, it hurts. The pain is excruciating, and Gia wishes there was a way to tell her body that her mate is mated to someone else so it could all stop.
But the world is determined to make her life a living hell, and she has to continue on with this pain until she dies.
She hates that she met Yifan where she did. Back then, before she knew the truth, she thought it was beautiful. To meet your mate on your favourite street, right in front of your favourite restaurant? It’s a beautiful thought. It was perfect.
Now she can’t even go there anymore because of the pain. It always hurts more when you revisit your first meeting place when you’re not dating them, when they’re gone. Even in death.
Gia wishes she’d never met Yifan at all.
+
It’s time to make amends, Yifan thinks. It has long been time, but he’s a coward. He has a tendency to run away.
It’s two months later that he finally builds up the courage to go to her. For all his hatred of misunderstandings, he can’t seem to ever clear them up. And this is such a stupid thing, too, he doesn’t have to be scared. The fact that he’s scared to do something because of a mistake he made choosing out rugs is such a stupid thing, really.
He makes his way to Gia’s apartment, bringing nothing because what do you even bring during I-made-a-huge-mistake-take-me-back meetings, anyway. He can feel it, the tugging of his heart almost completely covered by the all-encompassing pain. As he gets closer to her building, the pull of their soul bond is enough to mostly drown out the pain of their Distancing.
When he knocks on her door, he’s almost sure that she’ll close it when she sees who’s on the other side. She’s actually too stunned to do anything but stare, and Yifan knows it’s rude but he takes it as an invitation to come in.
“I need to explain,” he says, standing awkwardly in her living room. She just stares at him as if he was a ghost, so he opens his mouth to continue, but she finally speaks.
“What are you doing here?” she asks him, no bitterness in her voice. At least he’s not completely screwed already.
“To explain. Apologise.”
“You don’t need to say sorry for having a different mate, Yifan.” She sounds so broken, yet still so fond of him. Yifan sighs. Best to just get it all out, then.
“I’m colour blind. I have-”
“What.”
“I’m… colour blind?”
Gia blinks at him. And then again. And again. And again. Yifan nods. “Oh my god, all this time? All this time I’ve been trying to get over you, and you’re just fucking colour blind?”
Yifan smiles, bowing his head slightly. He can hear Gia’s soft laughter and his smile turns into a grin.
“Why’d it take you so long?”
“Because I was embarrassed!” Yifan keeps shaking his head to stop himself from just laughing, because this whole situation? Stupid, downright fucking stupid. “Do you know how ridiculous and upsetting it is to find out after years of only seeing black and white that you’re colour blind?”
“Oh my god, Yifan.”
“And besides, it wasn’t my fault, okay? Why’d we have to be looking at green rugs, anyway.”
“Blue rugs, Fan- fuck, oh my god, we’re so stupid.” They pause for a while, looking at each other fondly, big grins on their faces. “So you didn’t make someone else’s world colourful.” It’s not a question, but Yifan still nods.
“I’m sorry. You’re in love with a moron.”
Gia chuckles, moving closer to him, her hands reaching for his. “I knew that the day my world stopped being grey.”
2c
Life is cruel in the way that it waits eighteen years to show Luhan a vision of his mate writing down her name. It’s also cruel in the way that it makes Yifan bonded to the cousin of her mate, and Yifan met her first, and had talked about her to him before and Luhan never even knew. Well, life is cruel in a lot of ways, and Luhan might just be writing a list of reasons why.
“I don’t understand,” he tells her. She’s small and pale and has short hair, storied eyes under black rimmed glasses. Luhan has seen through those eyes countless of times; he can still remember his first vision, when he was nine and she was new to the world. He has seen her life in soundless bits and pieces, imagined intensively what meeting her would be like. What he never expected was her distraught statement of, We can’t do this.
“You have-” she cuts off with a sigh and the shake of her head, only to lick her lips and continue, “You made your choice.”
Luhan looks at her, his heart tight even though they’ve finally met. He should feel calm, his whole life has been solved, but there’s something about this he can’t quite grasp. “Gabriella-”
“Gab. Gab is fine.” She looks up at him, seemingly taking him in, memorising him. “Look, you don’t have to do this. I know we’re meant to be together, literally, but you can go back to your family. It’s okay.”
“Why- how is it okay? We’re meant to be together! My family can wait.”
Suddenly, there’s a puzzled look in her eyes, and her face softens a little, less sad, more confused. “You’re… married, aren’t you?”
Pause. “What?”
“There was- I saw- a wedding?”
And, oh. This whole time…. “That’s why you’re so sad.”
Gab nods slowly, visibly heading towards more confusion when Luhan starts to smile.
“That wasn’t- really, my life- that wasn’t real.”
“What?”
“I’m an actor.” And there, there it is, a smile on her face, even though it’s small. “How did you not know that? You’ve been seeing my life since you were born.”
“There was never anything, though. I doubt you know much about me either.”
Luhan grins. “Then tell me. Show me.”
3c
Kai tries not to think about it. Desperately, with all that she has. But it’s safe to say it’s impossible when the pain is there, when every morning it gets worse as soon as she sets foot in the train station. She wonders why there hasn’t been medicine created to negate this, pain killers targeted to people who disgust their mates so much they just walk away. It’s hard not to think about it, when it ruins you.
She’s sitting down on a bench, looking through her instagram feed, earphones plugged in, when she feels the pull. She tries to ignore it, but that proves futile as it keeps getting stronger. She puts her hand on her chest, pushes at it, all to no avail. And then-
“It’s you.”
Kai almost doesn’t hear it with music playing in her ears, but his low voice is loud and it’s only now she realises that the pain is more bearable, no longer a burden but a hum that can be pushed to the back of her head. The hammering of her chest, however, is another thing completely.
He’s wearing glasses and he’s a lot less far away - very near, actually - but it’s him. She wonders, bitterly, why he couldn’t just leave her alone.
“I finally found you.” His voice is breathless, like he’s been running, and his hand is on his chest, a dopey grin on his face.
“Finally?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. Has he been looking for her all this time, after his big walkout?
“You’re my mate. Oh my god, my mate.”
Kai stares at him, wonders if he has amnesia or something, because it’s been weeks. He’s a little bit late with his reaction.
“Why are you not... why aren’t you happy to see me?” his voice is whiny, childish despite how low it is. He takes a seat, his eyes not leaving her.
“We met weeks ago and you were disgusted by me.”
The sound that comes out of his throat is choked, the expression on his face full of horror. “No. That- is that why I’ve been in so much pain?”
Kai doesn’t even know this guy, but she’s judging- hard.
(The pain she’s been feeling is completely gone now. His pain has left, too.)
“We met here, weeks ago. Then the pain started. And- shit.”
“Are you okay?” Kai’s not really sure what to feel, now that the physical pain has subsided; her heart still hurts in memory of all the self-doubt she’d let herself fall into because of him.
“I’d just stopped wearing contacts. I misplaced my glasses that day. I wasn’t disgusted, I was confused. I thought I was dying.”
Kai stares, not knowing if she should believe him, and he pleads to her with his eyes. He doesn’t really have any reason to lie. And besides, they’re mates, it’s not like she can do anything about it, anyway. “Let’s say I believe you, for now. What’s your name?”
The guy beams at her, and Lord, is his smile bright. “Park Chanyeol. I’m your future husband.”
4c
She barely comes to the café anymore, and Jongdae swears it’s not his fault. He couldn’t have fucked up that bad to make her leave a paying job. And it’s her, okay, he’s sure; he’s memorised her eyes and her lips and the mole beside her nose, he’s been dreaming of her since he was a kid, he knows her. He keeps coming back to the café, multiple times a day so he has all the shifts covered, and yes, even if they are mated, this is weird and desperate, he’s aware, thanks.
He’s never seen her working after their first meeting, not in the three times she’s been here while he has, because she’s always just there for all of thirty seconds before she leaves again. But life seems to be favouring him today, because she enters the shop and takes over the counter just as Jongdae stands up from his table to order.
“What can I-” She immediately pauses when their eyes meet, her eyes going wide with horror. So Jongdae definitely didn’t dream that up, then. There’s confusion in her eyes and her breathing gets laboured, her eyes shutting close then opening as she looks around their surroundings. Her hands are balled into fists on the counter, and Jongdae really swears now, this isn’t all his fault.
“You’re- no, this is-” She’s shaking in panic, and when her breath slows enough for her to loosen her fists, she stares at her hands. She seems to pause, slowly looking up at him in wonder. “You’re alive.”
And- yes, what, yes. Of course he’s alive, what kind of fucked up dreams about him has she been having, what the hell.
“But you- I thought-” She’s still shaking her head, licking her lips way more than necessary, unbelieving. “It hurt. Everything hurt.”
“That’s what happens when you meet your mate and ignore them.”
She breaks into laughter, then. “I thought you died. When the hell did I even meet you?”
“Here. Early morning. You looked like you were gonna kill me so I ran out the shop.”
The grin on her face is mocking, and for someone who thought their mate was dead for the past few weeks, she really shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. “You’re the human blob!”
But Jongdae can’t not smile with her, because he’s seen that smile countless times, literally has dreams about it. “I’m… the human blob?”
“It was the stress, oh god. I was sleep deprived, everything was blurry. You looked like a blob to me.”
And… that was as good an explanation as any. Jongdae grins at her, noting the pink tint of blush on her cheeks as she tried to supress a smile.
Her face goes calm, though, as she looks up at him contentedly. “Not even a lifetime of dreams could prepare me for the reality of you.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re bright. You shine like the sun.”
5c
“I can’t be part of that ten, Raine, it’s so- it’s improbable.”
Raine understands. If she was in his position, she wouldn’t believe it either. She wouldn’t want to. But it’s the truth, it’s the ugly truth of their ugly lives. She wonders if he knows, if he can see it that she’s in love with him, if it hurts more knowing your mate loves you but doesn’t have you as their mate. She can’t say anything, she’s always been shit at comforting people, and to comfort someone in this situation would probably seem more like kicking them in the crotch rather than tending to their wounds.
“I can’t believe this, I refuse.”
But what can Raine do for him? It’s not like she can just take off her shirt in public to prove that she’s telling the truth. She wishes, okay, she wishes she wasn’t.
“Show it. Show me.”
Raine stares at Jongin, because this is ridiculous. She gets the denial, but there are near hundreds of people here, she’s not just gonna-
“Raine, please.” But his voice is glum, begging.
Tears are welling in her eyes, and she shakes her head. “Jongin, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry’s not gonna convince me! Sorry isn’t enough, just-” Jongin reaches out for her, putting his hand on her waist, bringing their faces close together.
Looking into his eyes, their chests beating against each other, his lips just right there- “Fine. Just let go of me, Jongin, okay. Fine.”
And though he looks dejected at first, when Raine pulls up her shirt his face goes blank.
“There, okay? Can we just- stop this now?”
Then the unexpected happens, Jongin grins. He looks so delighted, so happy, and why. “So we can what? Make the biggest mistakes of our lives?”
“Jongin, what are you talking about?”
Jongin laughs, moving into her space again, putting his hand on Raine’s hip. “That’s my name, idiot.”
And Raine- she just stops. “Wh-”
“It’s in Korean.” Jongin lifts his other hand to touch the mark- the name, apparently- on Raine’s ribs, brushing over it with the pads of his fingers. “Kim Jongin. That’s me.”
“That’s-” impossible? stupid? ridiculous? Raine drops the hand pulling up her shirt, places her arms around Jongin’s neck, and smiles at him.
“Yeah.” He moves even closer, rubbing their noses on each other. “Can you imagine if you didn’t just show it to me? That misunderstanding would’ve gone on for weeks. God, imagine the pain, huh?”
+ title from bittersweet tragedy by melanie martinez
pairing: hfb/exo
rating: g
1a
It takes three months. Three fucking months for Gia to realise something’s wrong. She should have known. If life was going to fuck a soul bond up, then obviously it would be her. Typical.
“It’s not like that. Just let me-” Yifan cuts himself off mid-sentence, his previously desperate voice turning into a deep, irritated sigh. Gia doesn’t understand why he’s annoyed. He’s not the one whose life is breaking apart.
“Just let you what? Explain? Fine! Go ahead.” Gia knows her voice is too loud, but she deserves this at the very least. Who cares about the fact that everyone and their mothers are staring at her? She’s broken. “Explain how you still can’t see colours even after you’ve met me.”
Yifan’s eyebrows furrow and his lips purse together, his eyes looking tired and infuriated. Gia laughs.
“You can’t. Because you’ve been lying all this time.” Yifan opens his mouth to say something, but Gia shakes her head. She’s not having any of this. She deserves more than this, whatever the fuck this is, despite the world literally telling her that no, she really doesn’t. “Yifan, I looked at you and my world stopped being black and white. But you’re standing here and everything is still just shades of grey to you. And even though I love you-” because she does, now, even though it’s only been three months. It might seem stupid and too fast but he is her mate. It’s just that, apparently, she’s not his. “-I can’t take you away from the person you’re meant to be with. Someone’s world is still black and white because you’re not in it yet. Yifan, please, I’m begging you, bring colour to their life the way you brought colour into mine.”
2a
It starts happening on a cool day in November. Gab is walking to the university library when she starts feeling something on her lips. The edges of her vision are starting to blur, slowly turning dark. She blinks. Not here, she pleads; and then she starts to fall.
She can’t hear anything, she never can with these visions. There’s just the low hum of silence ringing constant in her ears.
There’s still darkness everywhere. She can’t see anything but she knows she’s not in her life anymore, this is his, whoever he is. She can feel lips pressed onto hers, onto- he’s kissing someone.
An aching feeling of jealousy bubbles up inside her, and she knows, okay, she shouldn’t feel as bad as she does because it’s not like she’s never kissed anyone before. But to actually feel it when your mate receives actions of love from someone who isn’t you- it feels like complete, utter shit.
+
She can see, the next time. She can feel her mate smiling, can feel the way the girl’s hair feels in between her fingers. She can practically hear the thud of the girl’s back onto a bed.
This isn’t how she ever wanted her life to be.
+
She meets who she assumes are the girl’s parents, though they don’t look anything like her. Their mouths move but she can’t hear anything. Wouldn’t matter anyway since she knows her mate is from, or at least lives in, China.
The girl is beautiful.
There’s a ring on her finger. And somehow, Gab just knows.
At least she didn’t have a vision when he proposed. Be thankful for the little things, she supposes.
+
There’s a part of her that hopes it won’t happen, though the likelihood of it is very low. She doesn’t know how to brace herself, she knows what’s coming, but how do you prepare for this? How do you prepare for the wedding of the person you’re supposed to live your life with, your mate?
She wonders if he’d just given up, seen the unfamiliar places she was in and decided he couldn’t wait anymore- didn’t want to. Eighteen years is a long time, after all. But then, maybe, he really is in love with her. By some sick twist of fate, maybe Gab was mated to one of the Non-believers.
It doesn’t matter now. They’re getting married.
There’s a lot of red in their wedding. White and gold, too. She has a pretty smile. Gab gets it. She gets the appeal.
+
She gets the happiness, too. She can feel it in the way he doesn’t stop smiling. She can feel it in their kisses and the way they hold hands, and it kills her.
She just hopes his visions of her all throughout his life without her kills him, too.
3a
Kai is one of the unfortunate people who don’t have marks on their skin, or dreams, or visions, or anything. She still has a mate, she knows that. Only less than three percent of the population don’t have mates. She’s not that unlucky.
(At least, she hopes.)
It’s as they say, everything will turn out okay. And god, yes, it’s said like a mantra to calm her down or something, like everyone born without marks or visions can’t even handle the uncertainty. She knows the statistics, okay, because maybe they’re right, maybe it does get her on edge that she doesn’t know shit. She knows she has one of the rarest types of bonds but she’s strong enough for this. She can do this.
(Except, she learns, she can’t.)
She meets him at a train station, because life isn’t quite done screwing with her, evidently. There aren’t a lot of people, but he’s far away. Their eyes meet and it’s like she’s been thrown against a live electric fence. She almost stumbles. She doesn’t know what to do; she can vaguely hear the announcement of the next train arriving, but it doesn’t register, not really. He’s here, in front of her, no matter how big the distance is between them. And maybe one of them should move, should do something, should run towards the other. Kai almost does, she takes a step nearer, but then- he looks away and boards the train, rubbing at his chest.
And now, she really doesn’t know what to do.
(She cries- a lot. That’s apparently the only thing she’s good at.)
(She doesn’t think about the way his face had twisted when he saw her, his eyebrows furrowing and his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed tight against each other as if disgusted.)
(She does. It’s horrible. Her heart feels like it’s been beaten and set on fire.)
The next time someone asks her what type of bond she has and if she’s met her mate yet, she smiles sadly, shakes her head, and says, “I’m Unbonded.”
4a
Isa is pretty sure it’s the world’s idea of a joke, to be a Dreamer and also suffer from parasomnia. School taught her that there’s no proof of those two being correlated, and the internet proved what her teacher had already told her before, and her family pointed out that weird sleeping behaviours is a family thing, not just a Dreamer thing.
She sees the humour in it, doesn’t really think it’s a big deal, but it makes it a little bit harder for her. It’s hard to tell between dreams and reality, sometimes. There’s always that feeling at the back of your head, the possibility of still being asleep. And even at the age of twenty-one, Isa has difficulties pinpointing which parts of her past happened or not, if they’re dulled memories or too vivid dreams.
And she can’t sleep. It’s been three days, and every time she even just drifts away, images of her mate pop up in her head. The past few weeks, actually, he’s been a constant. That’s one of the indicators that you’re about to meet them soon, and Isa was excited. It had been good. But the past few days he’s always in pain in them. She knows why- it’s the stress, it’s never actually having any time to sleep because weddings suck. She has to bake about a billion and one things and why did she ever agree to this, anyway. And she still has to man the counter at the coffee shop, because life sucks, why not.
The bell by the door rings as someone comes in, and Isa has to struggle to even open her eyes, much more stay still and sell things. Parts of her body feel like static and other parts feel like nothing at all, and when she looks at the customer to hand them their order, they just look like a blurry blob of what could be a human being, even as Isa keeps blinking and narrowing her eyes. She just wants to sleep.
Which- might actually be what she’s about to do, because suddenly everything is blurry and her face is on the floor.
+
It’s been a month and a half.
Isa’s mostly been holed up in her room trying to sleep, even if she’s past the recommended eight and a half hours a night. Every time she goes to the café everything hurts, and she can’t take it. She’s desperate, even though she knows what’s happening- what has already happened. She keeps sleeping anyway.
You can’t describe the difference between soulmate dreams and normal dreams to a non-Dreamer, other than the nondescript, It doesn’t feel the same way. Isa wishes there was no distinction so she could still fool herself into believing that nothing’s wrong.
But it’s been a month and a half, and every time he’s in Isa’s dreams he’s not right. He’s not him. He’s an idea, a mere thought, a wish.
She’s not stupid. She knows what this is. It wasn’t her stress.
There are only two reasons soulmate dreams stop:
1. You’ve met them.
2. They’re dead.
5a
Raine can’t do it. Jongin is… he’s beautiful. He has the most stupidly wonderful smile, the most amusing laugh, and the way he moves is art. But she can’t do it, she can’t. He’s not the one.
They always hold hands, always go out together, always cuddle during movies, but it’s not him she needs. And she’s pretty sure that means she’s not what he needs either. She tries to make it clear to Jongin, she does. She throws around the word friend the way assholes do, and she sees the way Jongin looks at her after. It’s for the best, she almost wants to say every time.
They’d met during a friend’s recital, and Jongin was there on the stage dancing, liquid in his movements yet amazingly precise. He smiled when they were introduced and-god, it doesn’t matter, they’re not-this can’t be.
She knows that people date before they’ve met their mate, some people even date after, but she doesn’t want to be that girl. And yeah, the mark on her ribs is incredibly vague and gives her absolutely nothing to go on, but that’s how it is, that’s life.
And apparently, Jongin taking his shirt off after running with her, that’s life, too.
“Like what you see?” he asks, smirking, because if Jongin is anything (other than not her mate), it’s a walking cliché.
She shakes her head, frowning. She would be shouting meaningless insults at him right now if her chest didn’t feel like it was going to give up on her. And she knows it’s not from the running, is the thing, it’s the very worst thing.
He’s smiling at her the way he always does, the way he can’t seem to stop himself from doing. “Look here,” he tells her. And as if life doesn’t hate her enough, Jongin twists his body, showing the small part of his back that says-
Raine.
1b
Yifan’s not actually as much of an asshole as he’s made out to be. He doesn’t know where the accusations are always coming from. Yes, he towers over everyone; yes, he has abnormally huge hands; yes, he looks like he could murder you; but he’s a person, which is something people often forget about him, for some reason.
It gets worse when they hear about Gia. Having just met on the streets, they don’t have many mutual friends, but those who do know her treat him like shit. Which, really, is understandable. He’d even go as far as saying he deserves it. Because he’s a coward. Who doesn’t know how to use words. Who feels like absolute shit.
It’s not like he’d meant to do it, he hadn’t planned on lying to her for that long, but he didn’t know what to do. It was so obvious that Gia loved him, and every time he tried to tell the truth Gia would be looking up with her eyes shining, like Yifan was light to her, her guiding star. And how do you say anything when someone is looking at you like that, when your heart is hammering in your chest, and you know that you feel the same way. It’s near impossible, for people like Yifan. He doesn’t know words. And yes, he speaks four languages, but that’s not the point. Technical things are easier, grammar and vocabulary are easy, but feelings- feelings are the fucking enemy. Yifan’s never known how to deal with them, after all.
“You fucked up, you know that right?”
Yifan grumbles against his pillow, wondering how long it will take for him to suffocate, because why is Luhan here and being completely unhelpful, just go back to China and leave him alone, please.
“You could just tell her,” Luhan continues, because social cues, he does not get them, “It’ll be easier for the two of you.”
Yifan sighs, and under his breath he mutters, “It’ll be easier for me if I punch your face.”
Luhan laughs, because nothing can faze him. “I heard that. You’re as good of a punch as you are a boyfriend.”
And really, Yifan does not deserve this. Everything was a huge misunderstanding, why did it have to go on this fucking long.
2b
Luhan doesn’t know why his mate is so sad. Every time he gets visions of her she’s always in pain, always aching, even when she’s happy. Which doesn’t make much sense when he says it, but he can feel it; when she’s out with her friends and laughing, there’s still the buzz of pain in her chest.
It hurts him, he doesn’t even know who she is, but it hurts.
He has a vision when he’s on set once, and if that isn’t already bad enough, the sudden ache that he can feel in his whole body hits him like punches all over. She’s been drinking, Luhan can vaguely taste it on his tongue. She’s standing up, looking at some boy, and suddenly they’re on a bed and Luhan can feel ghost touches on his skin, hands that are too rough and too big, and what the fuck.
She’s needy when she kisses and the boy is just as insistent, and he can feel his tongue in his mouth and-oh my god, he never asked for this, what the fuck did he do to deserve this shit.
He can feel his body, his own body, shaking, but hers is moving and hands are everywhere and this just isn’t fair.
They stop, though, and he can feel tears; she’s shutting her eyes, sitting up with her hands covering her face. She’s miserable. He doesn’t know what’s happening, wishes he could reach out to her or something, but it’s impossible and the pain won’t leave.
Luhan feels tears going down his cheek, and when he opens his eyes to see his world, his face is wet with salt water and the pain hurts more than ever.
3b
Chanyeol thinks he’s dying.
His chest has been hurting for a week now and he doesn’t remember ever doing anything that could cause this, and he doesn’t want to go to a doctor over pain he can handle. Given, it’s pain that he can barely handle, but the important thing is that he can bear this. He can do this, okay, he’s not going to use the little money he has left for an overpriced doctor who will probably just tell him to start eating healthy, and lay off the burgers, son, they’re gonna kill you. Which, yeah, huh, sure, Mr. Doctor Man, sure.
(And if he, out of spite, buys the biggest burger his broke college ass can get his hands on, it’s justified, okay, no one can judge him.)
It always hurts more in the morning, just as he arrives at the train station. It’s probably all the running he does to get there on time, but it’s not like he can just stop running. He has things to do, like college, for example.
He knows this could just be a simple thing, could just be something that would go away with some pills and a regulated diet, but he has no money, he has no means, and what if he dies before he even meets his mate, god, and they’ll just feel it. He knows the science, at least the parts they teach in school, he knows that the pain experienced when your mate dies is even worse than when you withdraw yourself from them. The pain is supposedly dizzying; some say you feel what your mate feels when they die. Some have even done more dangerous, deadly things to get rid of the pain. And maybe he’s exaggerating, but possibilities, okay, everything is possible.
He could die from this pain. And the pain that his mate will feel, it might kill them.
4b
Jongdae doesn’t know what it is about him. He knows he’s good-looking, he owns a mirror, for god’s sake, and self-confidence is not a thing he lacks. He’s a good person, he’s nice, he’s been told that he has a very pretty smile. So, see, he doesn’t get it. And he’s sure- he’s a hundred and one percent sure that it was her. So what is it about him that put that look on her face?
She looked annoyed, almost homicidal, and like all the life inside her was drained from just looking at him. Dreamers get the least amount of shock (as in, actual, physical shock) when they see their mates for the first time, next to the Named, but the complete lack of surprise and happiness on her face was just- anticlimactic? heart-breaking? a punch in the fucking face?
And it’s not his fault, okay, that when he just couldn’t laugh it off anymore, he hightailed out of that shop as soon as he got what he came for. She’s scary.
Okay, so it’s a little bit his fault.
Maybe he should have at least introduced himself. Or gotten her name.
Well, fuck.
5b
It’s one of his flaws, not realising his mistakes until they’re already done. It’s also one of them, not being able to fix those mistakes after.
He’d been so sure, hadn’t even thought of the possibility that maybe, just maybe they weren’t meant to be together.
It’s such a rare case, to have a mate who’s not mated to you. He didn’t even think, not even for a second.
Evidently, he should have.
“Jongin… why is my name on your back?” she says it like she’s confused, but she’s trying to hide the smile on her face. He’d be confused, too; it’s been so long since they’ve had this… whatever they do. But Jongin thought she’d appreciate them taking it slow. Besides, he’d wanted it, too.
He laughs. “Because you’re my mate.”
Her face shuts down, turns offended and ice cold. “This isn’t funny, Jongin.”
Jongin raises his eyebrow. “It’s not supposed to be.”
Raine just stares, though. She doesn’t say anything. Just stares and shakes her head, her eyes narrowing.
And Jongin doesn’t understand, for a while. They keep staring at each other, and Jongin-
“I’m not your mate, am I?” his voice comes out strained, devastated. Raine sighs. “This- this isn’t possible, we’re- you can’t tell me you don’t have anything on you, Raine. Anything.”
She looks sorry now, teary-eyed. “I’m Marked, Jongin. I don’t have a name on me, I have a birthmark that makes no sense.”
“That’s not-”
“Possible?” She smiles at him, sad, pitying. “Less than three percent don’t have mates, and less than ten…” She pauses, and Jongin wishes she would just get on with it, get this over with so he can wallow in sadness and pain and the longest fuck up of his life, but she doesn’t continue.
It doesn’t matter, anyway, he paid attention in school, he knows. “Less than ten share a mate.”
1c
It hurts. Physically, it hurts. The pain is excruciating, and Gia wishes there was a way to tell her body that her mate is mated to someone else so it could all stop.
But the world is determined to make her life a living hell, and she has to continue on with this pain until she dies.
She hates that she met Yifan where she did. Back then, before she knew the truth, she thought it was beautiful. To meet your mate on your favourite street, right in front of your favourite restaurant? It’s a beautiful thought. It was perfect.
Now she can’t even go there anymore because of the pain. It always hurts more when you revisit your first meeting place when you’re not dating them, when they’re gone. Even in death.
Gia wishes she’d never met Yifan at all.
+
It’s time to make amends, Yifan thinks. It has long been time, but he’s a coward. He has a tendency to run away.
It’s two months later that he finally builds up the courage to go to her. For all his hatred of misunderstandings, he can’t seem to ever clear them up. And this is such a stupid thing, too, he doesn’t have to be scared. The fact that he’s scared to do something because of a mistake he made choosing out rugs is such a stupid thing, really.
He makes his way to Gia’s apartment, bringing nothing because what do you even bring during I-made-a-huge-mistake-take-me-back meetings, anyway. He can feel it, the tugging of his heart almost completely covered by the all-encompassing pain. As he gets closer to her building, the pull of their soul bond is enough to mostly drown out the pain of their Distancing.
When he knocks on her door, he’s almost sure that she’ll close it when she sees who’s on the other side. She’s actually too stunned to do anything but stare, and Yifan knows it’s rude but he takes it as an invitation to come in.
“I need to explain,” he says, standing awkwardly in her living room. She just stares at him as if he was a ghost, so he opens his mouth to continue, but she finally speaks.
“What are you doing here?” she asks him, no bitterness in her voice. At least he’s not completely screwed already.
“To explain. Apologise.”
“You don’t need to say sorry for having a different mate, Yifan.” She sounds so broken, yet still so fond of him. Yifan sighs. Best to just get it all out, then.
“I’m colour blind. I have-”
“What.”
“I’m… colour blind?”
Gia blinks at him. And then again. And again. And again. Yifan nods. “Oh my god, all this time? All this time I’ve been trying to get over you, and you’re just fucking colour blind?”
Yifan smiles, bowing his head slightly. He can hear Gia’s soft laughter and his smile turns into a grin.
“Why’d it take you so long?”
“Because I was embarrassed!” Yifan keeps shaking his head to stop himself from just laughing, because this whole situation? Stupid, downright fucking stupid. “Do you know how ridiculous and upsetting it is to find out after years of only seeing black and white that you’re colour blind?”
“Oh my god, Yifan.”
“And besides, it wasn’t my fault, okay? Why’d we have to be looking at green rugs, anyway.”
“Blue rugs, Fan- fuck, oh my god, we’re so stupid.” They pause for a while, looking at each other fondly, big grins on their faces. “So you didn’t make someone else’s world colourful.” It’s not a question, but Yifan still nods.
“I’m sorry. You’re in love with a moron.”
Gia chuckles, moving closer to him, her hands reaching for his. “I knew that the day my world stopped being grey.”
2c
Life is cruel in the way that it waits eighteen years to show Luhan a vision of his mate writing down her name. It’s also cruel in the way that it makes Yifan bonded to the cousin of her mate, and Yifan met her first, and had talked about her to him before and Luhan never even knew. Well, life is cruel in a lot of ways, and Luhan might just be writing a list of reasons why.
“I don’t understand,” he tells her. She’s small and pale and has short hair, storied eyes under black rimmed glasses. Luhan has seen through those eyes countless of times; he can still remember his first vision, when he was nine and she was new to the world. He has seen her life in soundless bits and pieces, imagined intensively what meeting her would be like. What he never expected was her distraught statement of, We can’t do this.
“You have-” she cuts off with a sigh and the shake of her head, only to lick her lips and continue, “You made your choice.”
Luhan looks at her, his heart tight even though they’ve finally met. He should feel calm, his whole life has been solved, but there’s something about this he can’t quite grasp. “Gabriella-”
“Gab. Gab is fine.” She looks up at him, seemingly taking him in, memorising him. “Look, you don’t have to do this. I know we’re meant to be together, literally, but you can go back to your family. It’s okay.”
“Why- how is it okay? We’re meant to be together! My family can wait.”
Suddenly, there’s a puzzled look in her eyes, and her face softens a little, less sad, more confused. “You’re… married, aren’t you?”
Pause. “What?”
“There was- I saw- a wedding?”
And, oh. This whole time…. “That’s why you’re so sad.”
Gab nods slowly, visibly heading towards more confusion when Luhan starts to smile.
“That wasn’t- really, my life- that wasn’t real.”
“What?”
“I’m an actor.” And there, there it is, a smile on her face, even though it’s small. “How did you not know that? You’ve been seeing my life since you were born.”
“There was never anything, though. I doubt you know much about me either.”
Luhan grins. “Then tell me. Show me.”
3c
Kai tries not to think about it. Desperately, with all that she has. But it’s safe to say it’s impossible when the pain is there, when every morning it gets worse as soon as she sets foot in the train station. She wonders why there hasn’t been medicine created to negate this, pain killers targeted to people who disgust their mates so much they just walk away. It’s hard not to think about it, when it ruins you.
She’s sitting down on a bench, looking through her instagram feed, earphones plugged in, when she feels the pull. She tries to ignore it, but that proves futile as it keeps getting stronger. She puts her hand on her chest, pushes at it, all to no avail. And then-
“It’s you.”
Kai almost doesn’t hear it with music playing in her ears, but his low voice is loud and it’s only now she realises that the pain is more bearable, no longer a burden but a hum that can be pushed to the back of her head. The hammering of her chest, however, is another thing completely.
He’s wearing glasses and he’s a lot less far away - very near, actually - but it’s him. She wonders, bitterly, why he couldn’t just leave her alone.
“I finally found you.” His voice is breathless, like he’s been running, and his hand is on his chest, a dopey grin on his face.
“Finally?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. Has he been looking for her all this time, after his big walkout?
“You’re my mate. Oh my god, my mate.”
Kai stares at him, wonders if he has amnesia or something, because it’s been weeks. He’s a little bit late with his reaction.
“Why are you not... why aren’t you happy to see me?” his voice is whiny, childish despite how low it is. He takes a seat, his eyes not leaving her.
“We met weeks ago and you were disgusted by me.”
The sound that comes out of his throat is choked, the expression on his face full of horror. “No. That- is that why I’ve been in so much pain?”
Kai doesn’t even know this guy, but she’s judging- hard.
(The pain she’s been feeling is completely gone now. His pain has left, too.)
“We met here, weeks ago. Then the pain started. And- shit.”
“Are you okay?” Kai’s not really sure what to feel, now that the physical pain has subsided; her heart still hurts in memory of all the self-doubt she’d let herself fall into because of him.
“I’d just stopped wearing contacts. I misplaced my glasses that day. I wasn’t disgusted, I was confused. I thought I was dying.”
Kai stares, not knowing if she should believe him, and he pleads to her with his eyes. He doesn’t really have any reason to lie. And besides, they’re mates, it’s not like she can do anything about it, anyway. “Let’s say I believe you, for now. What’s your name?”
The guy beams at her, and Lord, is his smile bright. “Park Chanyeol. I’m your future husband.”
4c
She barely comes to the café anymore, and Jongdae swears it’s not his fault. He couldn’t have fucked up that bad to make her leave a paying job. And it’s her, okay, he’s sure; he’s memorised her eyes and her lips and the mole beside her nose, he’s been dreaming of her since he was a kid, he knows her. He keeps coming back to the café, multiple times a day so he has all the shifts covered, and yes, even if they are mated, this is weird and desperate, he’s aware, thanks.
He’s never seen her working after their first meeting, not in the three times she’s been here while he has, because she’s always just there for all of thirty seconds before she leaves again. But life seems to be favouring him today, because she enters the shop and takes over the counter just as Jongdae stands up from his table to order.
“What can I-” She immediately pauses when their eyes meet, her eyes going wide with horror. So Jongdae definitely didn’t dream that up, then. There’s confusion in her eyes and her breathing gets laboured, her eyes shutting close then opening as she looks around their surroundings. Her hands are balled into fists on the counter, and Jongdae really swears now, this isn’t all his fault.
“You’re- no, this is-” She’s shaking in panic, and when her breath slows enough for her to loosen her fists, she stares at her hands. She seems to pause, slowly looking up at him in wonder. “You’re alive.”
And- yes, what, yes. Of course he’s alive, what kind of fucked up dreams about him has she been having, what the hell.
“But you- I thought-” She’s still shaking her head, licking her lips way more than necessary, unbelieving. “It hurt. Everything hurt.”
“That’s what happens when you meet your mate and ignore them.”
She breaks into laughter, then. “I thought you died. When the hell did I even meet you?”
“Here. Early morning. You looked like you were gonna kill me so I ran out the shop.”
The grin on her face is mocking, and for someone who thought their mate was dead for the past few weeks, she really shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. “You’re the human blob!”
But Jongdae can’t not smile with her, because he’s seen that smile countless times, literally has dreams about it. “I’m… the human blob?”
“It was the stress, oh god. I was sleep deprived, everything was blurry. You looked like a blob to me.”
And… that was as good an explanation as any. Jongdae grins at her, noting the pink tint of blush on her cheeks as she tried to supress a smile.
Her face goes calm, though, as she looks up at him contentedly. “Not even a lifetime of dreams could prepare me for the reality of you.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re bright. You shine like the sun.”
5c
“I can’t be part of that ten, Raine, it’s so- it’s improbable.”
Raine understands. If she was in his position, she wouldn’t believe it either. She wouldn’t want to. But it’s the truth, it’s the ugly truth of their ugly lives. She wonders if he knows, if he can see it that she’s in love with him, if it hurts more knowing your mate loves you but doesn’t have you as their mate. She can’t say anything, she’s always been shit at comforting people, and to comfort someone in this situation would probably seem more like kicking them in the crotch rather than tending to their wounds.
“I can’t believe this, I refuse.”
But what can Raine do for him? It’s not like she can just take off her shirt in public to prove that she’s telling the truth. She wishes, okay, she wishes she wasn’t.
“Show it. Show me.”
Raine stares at Jongin, because this is ridiculous. She gets the denial, but there are near hundreds of people here, she’s not just gonna-
“Raine, please.” But his voice is glum, begging.
Tears are welling in her eyes, and she shakes her head. “Jongin, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry’s not gonna convince me! Sorry isn’t enough, just-” Jongin reaches out for her, putting his hand on her waist, bringing their faces close together.
Looking into his eyes, their chests beating against each other, his lips just right there- “Fine. Just let go of me, Jongin, okay. Fine.”
And though he looks dejected at first, when Raine pulls up her shirt his face goes blank.
“There, okay? Can we just- stop this now?”
Then the unexpected happens, Jongin grins. He looks so delighted, so happy, and why. “So we can what? Make the biggest mistakes of our lives?”
“Jongin, what are you talking about?”
Jongin laughs, moving into her space again, putting his hand on Raine’s hip. “That’s my name, idiot.”
And Raine- she just stops. “Wh-”
“It’s in Korean.” Jongin lifts his other hand to touch the mark- the name, apparently- on Raine’s ribs, brushing over it with the pads of his fingers. “Kim Jongin. That’s me.”
“That’s-” impossible? stupid? ridiculous? Raine drops the hand pulling up her shirt, places her arms around Jongin’s neck, and smiles at him.
“Yeah.” He moves even closer, rubbing their noses on each other. “Can you imagine if you didn’t just show it to me? That misunderstanding would’ve gone on for weeks. God, imagine the pain, huh?”
+ title from bittersweet tragedy by melanie martinez