#150 The Fatemaster
Title: The Fatemaster
Prompt: #150
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~8360 words
Summary: Fate is capricious but also an undeniable thing of beauty.
Notes: Dear prompter, first and foremost, thank you very much for the challenging prompt. I took some minor liberties with it and the bonus points, but nothing too drastic, I assure you. I might expand on this someday, but as of now, this is as good as complete. I hope you like it!
In the heart of Gangnam, a two-storey bookshop called The Hidden Nook opened its doors at nine o’clock sharp six times a week. Although not as spacious and popular like its commercial counterparts, the ground floor boasted an impressive collection for both fiction and non-fiction works sold at a far cheaper price. Upstairs was the reading section designed and decorated like a living room, with built-in bookshelves lining the walls and contained titles that rotated every month.
Two unique details set The Hidden Nook apart from its competitors. One was the shop owner’s reputation for acquiring rare gems unseen anywhere in the country. No one knew how and where it began, but word on the street claimed a literary snob entered the shop one day and expressed discontent over the offerings. The bookshop owner accepted their challenge of obtaining a rare vintage novel penned by a European author. A week later, the bookshop owner presented a secondhand copy in mint condition and gained a new patron in return.
Shrouded by mystery and intrigue, only a handful had seen the bookshop owner in person. Not even the regular customers knew what he looked like. The handful who had, however, shared a common predicament unrelated to books and landed them a meeting with him. Though no concrete evidence could be provided, gossip declared this the shop’s second selling point.
Kim Jongdae, the bookshop owner’s assistant, wrapped up cleaning and opened shop on a sunny Monday. He just about took his post behind the counter when the bell above the door chimed. A woman in her mid-twenties with coiffed hair and stylish clothes entered.
“Would you like some assistance or prefer browsing alone?” Jongdae asked after greeting her.
“I’m not here for the books,” she said, darting her eyes around as if unsure of her purpose.
“You don’t look the type to read, anyway.”
A man in his early twenties descended the corner spiral staircase, carrying a hardbound book in his arms, eyes half-lidded with sleep.
“Jongin, you can’t talk to a customer like that,” Jongdae chided, face sheepish.
Jongin deposited the book on the nearby cart. He gave the affronted woman an once-over, zeroed in on her fingers, and concealed a yawn behind his hand. “If you’re not here to buy anything, follow me.”
They entered an office situated at the back of the shop, interior simple and straightforward in its purpose. Jongin handed her a form and checked for unanswered fields after she finished, then set it aside for Jongdae to enter into the database later. He procured a red candle on a fancy brass holder and a small pot from the cabinet behind the chair and set them on the table.
The young woman, whom he now called Ms. Choi, averted her eyes toward the door. Her forehead creased. “Isn’t the shop owner rumored to be in charge of this?”
Jongin lit the candle with a single tap of his finger to the wick, smiling at the bewildered gasp it stole from Ms. Choi. “I am the owner who will be doing the procedure.”
Still speechless, Ms. Choi offered her hand when Jongin asked for it. He dipped his fingers into the open pot and rubbed the scented salve around the base of her pinky. He measured five inches of string away from it and applied the same amount. “Why do you want your red string cut?”
“My soul mate and I have been fighting a lot recently. You know how things are twice as intense when you’ve found each other, right?” At Jongin’s nod, Ms. Choi continued, “Well, I’ve had it. For now, I don’t want to feel anything. I want to think about our relationship without the string influencing my decisions.”
“You’re not the first person to seek me out for that reason,” Jongin remarked. He held the uncoated section of the string with careful fingers and positioned it above the flame. “And you certainly won’t be the last.”
The string broke once it met the flame. The longer half remained floating in midair even as it caught on fire, fading from view in a slow burn into transparency. Jongin tied the excess five-inch string into a bow.
“How did that happen?” Ms. Choi asked, stunned. “The string disappeared, but this”-she shook her pinky-“stayed?”
“The carrier of intention is more susceptible to the complete eradication of the string. The salve I used prevents it from happening. This is a temporary arrangement, after all. Your soul mate’s string will tie itself into a bow, but needs no protection since he believes in its power.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“If he was a willing participant, he should be here too, shouldn’t he?” Jongin pointed out, not unkindly.
Ms. Choi reddened but said nothing.
“If it makes you feel any better, it’s rare for couples who mutually want their strings cut, so you’re not the only one who’s come here solo.”
Jongin escorted Ms. Choi out of his office and listed off additional instructions. Ms. Choi paid the required amount at the counter, and dipped her head toward Jongin in gratitude before leaving.
Jongdae opened a drawer under the counter and tossed a pack of choco pie to Jongin. “How many procedures can you do today?”
“I’m tired, so only five,” Jongin answered around a mouthful of choco pie. “If not, I’ll cut it down to three.”
“Snipping really takes a toll on you, huh?” Jongdae reached out and ruffled Jongin’s hair. “If you didn’t sleep so late, you’d have enough energy to last you through seven sessions.”
Jongin hummed in agreement and consumed the last of his choco pie. He noticed a bow on Jongdae’s left pinky and frowned. “Did your soul mate cut their string again?”
Jongdae sighed and shrugged. “This is the third time within the year. Whoever they are, they’re fickle as hell.”
“Don’t worry, hyung. When you meet, they’ll realize what they’re missing out on and decide against a fourth procedure.”
“They better hurry up, then, because I can’t wait to have a name and face I can curse.”
The clock struck one on a slow Tuesday afternoon, the gentle sound echoing throughout the bookshop. Jongin shook his head and patted his cheeks for good measure. He finished three consecutive Snipping appointments this morning and ate half a dozen choco pies in preparation for four more later, though a nap sounded tempting like Jongdae suggested earlier.
The tinkling of the bell jolted Jongin awake. He uttered a soft but warm “Welcome,” and stared at the customer: a young man around the same age as him or younger, tall as a beanstalk, proportions of a runway model and dressed like one, as well. Out of habit, Jongin’s gaze fell to his hands, raising an eyebrow at the pink ring of light on his left pinky. Jongin thought him one of the more handsome guys he’d seen in a while, except the knitted brows and the stern downturn of his mouth exuded an unapproachable grouch vibe.
Minutes later, Jongin was checking out advanced programming books. He announced the total, counted the amount handed to him, and said, “You’re short of ₩100.”
The customer’s eyes widened, mouth forming a small ‘O’ before he dug into his pockets. He handed the coin and mumbled an apology, smile tiny and awkward. The image reversal charmed Jongin, noting with a hidden grin how shyness was an attractive look on him.
Too bad this was a one-time encounter. Jongin would’ve liked to see him again.
“As always, thank you for traveling all the way here despite your busy schedule.”
“I don’t mind,” Jongin said. “Consider it a benefit of a loyal shop patron.”
The elderly man tore off the paper and examined the books, humming in satisfaction upon affirming their pristine condition. “I take it these weren’t easy to obtain?”
“I had to do some digging, but nothing too troublesome.”
“Impressive. You do live up to your reputation,” the elderly man praised. “Would you join me for afternoon tea?”
“I would love to.”
On days a package for Grandpa Oh arrived, Jongin carved out time to personally deliver it to his estate located on the fringes of Seoul. Normally, customers picked up their orders from the bookshop; Grandpa Oh did, too, but a severe case of flu and joint pains confined him to bed for days. Without thinking twice, Jongin delivered his books in person, sensing the old man might crave for a companion. A routine was established from then on. Jongin didn’t mind-it helped he enjoyed Grandpa Oh’s company and chatter, so treating him like his own grandfather came easy.
They chatted over a pot of green tea and pastries in Grandpa Oh’s study. A charming man in his late seventies with a receding hairline and a convivial demeanor, Grandpa Oh still possessed clear eyesight and the stamina of a teenager, living his retirement days as he wished. If he wasn’t at the country club playing golf or tennis, he was watching movies in the mall or hitting the cafés teenagers flocked to. He devoured novels like a man starved for a decade and took Jongin’s recommendations, a majority of them suiting his taste.
“I wish my grandson cultivated the same interest you have in books,” Grandpa Oh said. He shook his head as if in remorse. “The only reading he does is for work.”
“Maybe he needs the right book to convert him.”
“I’ve tried. Believe me, I did,” Grandpa Oh said, frustration detectable in his words. “My attempts never bore fruit. I’ve long given up.”
The bark of a dog interrupted Jongin’s reply. A white Bichon Frise scampered into the study and approached Grandpa Oh, who set his cup aside and reached down to pat its head. “Good boy,” he cooed.
As a frequent visitor, Jongin was no stranger to Vivi and sometimes played with him. He called out Vivi’s name at the same time someone else did. Vivi padded up to Jongin and sat by his feet, tail wagging in excitement. Jongin’s attention drifted to the newcomer, his face drawn with unconcealed surprise. The newcomer mirrored his look.
“₩100, what are you doing here?” Jongin asked after finding his voice back.
A scowl replaced the faded surprise, recreating the look Jongin remembered from their first meeting. “I live here,” he retorted, miffed. “What are you doing here?”
Grandpa Oh’s amused chuckle broke the tension. “Introductions are in order, I see. Jongin, this is my grandson, Sehun. Sehun, this is Jongin, the owner of the bookshop I told you about.” He pulled out the vacant seat beside him. “Why don’t you join us for tea?”
Sehun’s scowl remained but obeyed his grandfather.
Jongin discovered Sehun wasn’t much of a talker despite his participation in the discussions. He also discovered they shared the same age. Sehun had recently returned to the country after his one-year deployment in Shanghai, explaining why Jongin never saw him during his visits. After revealing his occupation as a software engineer, Sehun couldn’t stop himself from laughing at Jongin’s flabbergasted but comical face (and almost snorted tea out of his nose in the process).
“Sorry for calling you ₩100. It just slipped,” Jongin apologized much later, after the tea session ended and he took his leave. Grandpa Oh asked Sehun to see him out in his place, eager to start on his new novel, and shooed them out of his study.
Sehun’s blank expression could’ve fooled anybody, except Jongin noticed the trembling edges of his mouth from fighting back what he assumed was a smile. “Can’t be helped. I’d have called you that, too, if we switched places. It’s quite the unforgettable moment.”
“You have quite the unforgettable face, so it helps.”
“I know, right?” Sehun preened.
Jongin huffed, and they dissolved into uncontrollable laughter that accompanied them for the rest of their walk.
The following week, Grandpa Oh informed Jongin he wouldn’t be home for the delivery; instead, Sehun would pick it up for him since his workplace was located in the same area, anyway. Jongin passed the time waiting in the second floor, lounging on a couch and reading a novel. The last customer had long left, along with the other part-timers and Jongdae.
Sehun arrived half past seven, apologizing for the wait. He lifted the paper bag off the counter and cursed at the unexpected weight. “Okay, this is heavy. What are these things made of-bricks?”
“No, but hardbound books weigh heavier than your usual paperback, especially by the bundle,” Jongin said, turning the lights off and locking up. “Your grandfather has a preference for them. He also likes bigger fonts, even if he has no eyesight problems.”
“He should invest in an e-reader,” Sehun said, grimacing at the extra weight he had to carry while walking. “You can take it anywhere, equipped with an adjustable typeface option, and you can store hundreds of novels without worrying about losing space in your bookshelves, never mind he has a ton of room for hundreds of those.”
“Some prefer holding the actual book in their hands than reading off a screen.”
Sehun gave him a sidelong glance. “Oh, god, are you one of those pretentious asses who think choosing real books puts them above people who read e-books?”
He should take offense, but the comment was worded in a way Jongin found funny and laughed it off. “I’ve been accused of such, but no. Nice try, though,” he said, parting ways with Sehun at the bus stop.
“So what’s your reason?” Sehun asked the next day.
Either Jongin hadn’t completely adjusted to the reality of Sehun’s unannounced appearance, or his timing in grabbing an open opportunity was off, but he said the first thing on his mind: “How about I tell you over dinner?”
Sehun blinked but didn’t answer. Jongin half expected a rejection and braced himself for it, but Sehun’s nod surprised him again.
Fifteen minutes and a bus ride later, they sat in a booth in a restaurant Sehun had recommended on the way. “So let’s hear it,” Sehun said, leaning back in his seat.
“I just prefer real books over e-readers. That’s it.”
Sehun rolled his eyes. “How anticlimactic. I was expecting something grander or atypical.” Flat tone aside, it lacked the heat or annoyance Jongin thought he’d harbor. “Wait-was this an elaborate scheme to rope me into eating with you? You’re older than me, so you’re paying.” The last few words carried a teasing undertone.
“You dare order your elder?” Jongin teased back, feigning anger.
Sehun busied himself with the side dishes and Jongin finished a new chapter while waiting for their orders. They ate in comfortable silence, broken by the occasional talk about Grandpa Oh. It diminished completely after Sehun blurted out an offhand comment about liking the beat of the song playing in the background. Conversation about the artist led to a revelation of Sehun dancing to his songs in college, triggering Jongin’s excitement upon finding a fellow (former) dancer.
Jongin sighed in nostalgia afterward. “Our talk about dancing makes me realize I miss it a lot.”
“My friend owns a dance school. I’ll ask him to spare a studio for us if you’re up for a showdown.”
“You sound confident.”
Sehun flashed him a self-satisfied smile. “I show no mercy on the dance floor.”
Jongin’s eyes wandered around the restaurant after settling the bill. Red strings in various states hung suspended in midair around him, some crisscrossing with others but never tangling together. Two tables away, a young man and woman pair sat opposite of each other, strings needle-thin compared to most in the vicinity. The young woman lifted a piece of kimchi off the saucer when her string glowed. Jongin tried following the trail but the limited view from his seat didn’t help.
Sehun followed Jongin’s line of sight. “Why are you looking at the couple?”
“They’re not a couple,” Jongin said, still looking. Peripheral vision caught a waiter walking up to them, carrying a tray containing two bowls. The string around his left pinky glowed without him noticing. Each stride shortened the distance like a countdown; the young woman and waiter locked gazes, mouths open in astonishment as they raised their pinkies together. The once thin string had now thickened, covered in a luminous shine.
“They’re soul mates? How’d you know?” Sehun sounded floored. His eyes remained glued on the newly-formed couple.
“I can see their strings.”
Sehun’s eyebrows pulled together. “But a normal person can only see their soul mate’s string aside from their own.”
Jongin remained silent, watching Sehun struggle in his search for answers. He could almost hear the cogs in Sehun’s mind whirring. He drummed his fingers on the table in anticipation.
Sehun’s jaw dropped. “Well, damn. I’m talking to an urban legend. No-I’m talking to an ancient relic!”
Jongin laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Actually, I’m called a Fatemaster.”
“What’s it like?”
Jongin spared Sehun a glance before closing the cash register. “What’s what like?”
“Seeing and doing what others can’t.”
A few seconds passed. “Strange. Confusing. Needs a few adjustments and tons of reminders I can see objects invisible to the masses. Helps keep this bookshop afloat amid a tight economy-my favorite benefit, if I’m to be honest. Cutting strings fetch a steep price, but it doesn’t stop people from spending over it.”
Sehun’s prolonged silence and contemplative countenance snatched Jongin’s attention. “You’re asking a lot of questions today. Something on your mind?”
“I’m… confused.” Sehun licked his lips. He stared at the receipt stapled on his purchase before continuing, “I don’t have a string-or at least, I can’t see it. I want to know why. Is… Is it too late to have one?”
Jongin shook his head. “Strings are as fickle as fate: they appear whenever they want to. You have one, but it’s not what I’d call a string.” Sehun’s face paled, so he quickly amended, “Some aren’t granted red strings from birth; instead, they have pink rings. You can’t see it because those without Sight are only capable of seeing fully-matured red strings, soul mate found or not.”
Sehun raised a free hand to eye level, inspecting his fingers like they held the answers. “So it all boils down to a waiting game?” he asked, sighing.
This time, Jongin nodded. “Just a heads-up: a pink ring isn’t always a good thing. If you’re lucky, it will turn red and produce a string.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
A corner of Jongin’s mouth curved upward. “Hmm, I wonder…”
Sehun groaned. “Oh, c’mon, don’t tease.”
“I can tell you one thing since you’re that curious.” Jongin flipped the sign on the door and double checked the lock before heading for the bus station. “Most people whose pink rings never turned red were driven to the brink of despair. If you don’t want the same thing to happen to you, wish for red.”
“I don’t have to wish for it-I know it will turn red.” The determination and confidence in Sehun’s words were palpable. “The moment it does, I’ll search for the person on the other end.”
“Oh.” Jongin stopped in his tracks and wrinkled his nose. “Are you one of those insufferable romantics who won’t engage in a relationship unless it’s with their soul mate?”
Sehun stopped, too. “I don’t belong to that crowd,” he scoffed and paired it with an eye roll. “And so what if I believe in soul mates. Don’t you?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You’re annoying, just saying,” Sehun complained, sans real heat; just the tiniest hint of frustration.
Unfazed, Jongin reached out a hand and rubbed the creased skin between Sehun’s eyebrows with his thumb. Sehun tensed under his touch, but he didn’t pull back or swat his hand away. Puzzlement stole across his face as he waited for an explanation behind the gesture.
“You look better smiling,” was Jongin’s offered reply. He didn’t bother hiding a triumphant grin at Sehun’s red cheeks.
Sehun cleared his throat and transferred the paper bag onto his other arm. “I’m starving; can we walk faster?”
“Are you sure you still want my company even if I’m annoying?” Jongin teased, falling into step with him.
Sehun huffed and shot him a glare, but Jongin caught the faintest trace of a smile forming.
Early evening Thursday, a part-timer ushered Sehun inside Jongin’s office, tearing him away from the e-mail he’d been drafting.
“You forgot your book.” Sehun placed said object beside the keyboard.
Jongin’s mouth formed an ‘O,’ eyes enlarged. He held it with both hands. “I thought I’ve lost it forever.” His voice overflowed with relief. “Where’d you find it?”
“You forgot about it in your rush to get home. I chased after you but you’d already boarded the bus.”
Jongin showed his thanks by serving Sehun tea in his office. The surprise appearance was a welcome distraction from the unfinished paperwork waiting on his desk, and marked the first time he’d received him in his office. Even with his frequent visits to the bookshop, Sehun was limited to the counter for package pick-ups and random aisles he fancied browsing.
Sehun looked around his surroundings and clucked his tongue in disapproval. “The magic happens here? It’s so plain.”
“Plain is best.”
“Even my cubicle at HQ looks cozier.” Sehun sipped his tea. His eyes landed on the tray of snacks. “Is choco pie your favorite food? Nine times out of ten I never see you without it.”
“My favorite food is chicken. Choco pies replenish my spiritual energy.”
“Your what?” Sehun exclaimed, like he hadn’t heard right.
Amused, Jongin sat back and munched on the treat. “You think I can cut red strings without consequence? Wrong. A normal person’s spiritual energy level lies between the low and zero range for the rest of their life. In contrast, a Fatemaster’s spiritual energy level reaches above average on the chart, and, on rare occasions, owns a limitless supply. I use a portion of my spiritual energy to perform Snipping, but I can’t do it round the clock or I’d run myself into the ground.
“Choco pies have been my quick fix since childhood. It’s different for others, depending on what fate picks for you. My grandfather thrived on pickled plums. My great grandmother gained strength by smelling flowers.” Fondness crossed Jongin’s face at the mention of them.
Sehun nodded his head in understanding.
“Right, before I forget,” Sehun started, after a few moments’ silence, “here’s a confession: I tried reading the first chapter, but I only lasted three paragraphs.”
Jongin chuckled. “Reading really isn’t your thing, huh?”
“I had a short-lived affair with manhwa in high school. Give me a movie and I’d have more interest.”
“Tell you what: take the book and finish one chapter. Return it if it’s not to your liking.”
Sehun adapted a thinking pose, feigned deliberation reflected in his playful smirk. “My labor doesn’t come cheap, you know.”
“If you can finish it, I’ll take you out on a movie of your choice on Saturday.”
“Only a movie?”
Somehow, Jongin predicted he’d say this, but it still extracted a laugh from him. “I’ll buy you a meal, too. Yeah, you’ll pick the place. Yeah, I’ll pay.” He tacked on the last two sentences before Sehun could sass him.
He never saw Sehun’s face light up so fast, or agree in the same speed.
Jongin slipped his contact details into the book in case Sehun wanted a discussion or declare his second surrender. He received his first KakaoTalk message later that night.
9:35 PM
I made it past the first scene, hehe~
Quiet laughter left Jongin as he typed a reply.
9:36 PM
Will you make it past the second scene?
Two dance covers on YouTube later, Sehun responded with a flurry of texts:
9:43 PM
I finished the first chapter.
9:44 PM
My brain isn’t hurting.
9:45 PM
Yet.
9:46 PM
Grandpa passed by and almost had a conniption. The sight of me reading must’ve been too much for him.
9:47 PM
WTF, this requires more concentration than I thought.
Jongin might not see him, but he could imagine Sehun wearing his trademark frown, reading sentence after sentence.
9:48 PM
Trudge on, Oh Sehun ;)
The next day, Jongin woke up to a detailed commentary of Sehun’s reading adventure. The first dozen composed of violent reactions to select characters’ deeds. The second batch contained profuse (metaphorical) sobbing at the ultimate plot twist. He concluded it with an Instagram link showing a picture of the novel propped up against a lamp, the bedside clock displaying the time as five-five.
The caption read: “Never one for books but this kept me hanging on to the last word. No regrets.”
Jongin’s thumb had never flown across the keypad so fast.
7:30 AM
See you on Saturday :D
After the monumental movie and dinner date, The Hidden Nook saw an increase in Sehun’s visits not for previously established reasons, but rather-
“You forgot your earphones.”
“You forgot your glasses.”
“You forgot your pen.”
“Holy shit,” Jongdae swore in his bafflement. “Who sacrifices their lunch break to return a cheap pen? Actually, no, don’t answer that.”
Jongin twirled mentioned pen between his fingers, a wide, exuberant smile adorning his face. “His effort is commendable, don’t you think?”
Jongdae threw his hands up in defeat. “Lovesick fool.”
Anyone familiar with Jongin had witnessed his inhuman ability of forgetting and misplacing his belongings at least once. Jongin himself couldn’t explain the phenomenon, but after testing tempers and exasperating even the most patient of individuals, he exerted conscious effort in keeping track of his possessions. He hadn’t heard a single complaint from Sehun, so far, though guilt nagged at Jongin’s conscience for the continuous episodes.
“Jongdae-hyung said in the past only saints could put up with me. Don’t you find my carelessness irritating?” Jongin brought up on their impromptu stroll by the Han River. Moving around was needed after a mini contest on who could demolish the most meat platters in the shortest possible time.
“No, but Grandpa would laugh at you if he found out.” Sehun’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Would you like to swap memory retention abilities with him?”
Jongin squinted at him, feigning offense. “Are you calling me old?”
Sehun patted his cheek with a mock patronizing nod. “Careful; your blood pressure will skyrocket.” At Jongin’s indignant “Hey!” and light shove of his shoulder, he said, serious this time, “What’s not to like about seeing you more than once?”
“Now you’re buttering me up after the initial insult? How sly.”
“Is it working?” Sehun clasped their hands together, unperturbed.
The slow stretch of a breathtaking smile on Sehun’s face radiated warmth through Jongin’s chest in silent admission.
Zhang Yixing was a dimpled, mild-mannered man whose dazed appearance betrayed nothing about his personality. He lacked the demeanor of a hip-hop instructor and a dance school owner, and didn’t look like the type who’d be friends with someone as explosive as Sehun. A dance convention back in Sehun’s college days resulted in the crossing of their paths, transcending into a friendship beyond language lessons and other common interests. Years of residing in Seoul couldn’t fully erase his accent, but it didn’t deter Yixing from communicating. In times of forgotten words, Yixing switched to Mandarin, and Sehun would translate.
“Yixing-hyung sure is amazing achieving his dreams before hitting thirty,” Jongin remarked after finishing warm-ups.
Sehun connected his iPod to the speakers and scrolled down his playlist. “He works too hard sometimes, it’s worrying. I want him to find a good person. I hope it’s his soul mate and they meet soon.”
Jongin opened his mouth but clamped it shut just the same. The way Sehun spoke of Yixing implied the depth of his care for him, discouraging him from imparting the knowledge of the ominous black ring he saw on Yixing’s right pinky. Jongin swallowed a contemptuous smirk. He didn’t understand fate and its decisions sometimes. Kind people didn’t deserve to be fateless.
“Ready to be blown away?” Sehun’s question cut through his musings.
Jongin screwed his face in fake scorn. “Show me what you’ve got.”
They agreed holding a showdown was impossible if they haven’t seen each other’s dancing skills, so they’d treat today as an introduction. Sehun danced the moment the song came on, body moving in sync to the powerful beat. Jongin’s eyes followed his every action, alternating between the mirror and Sehun himself, but a provocative body roll topped with an electrifying stare ignited a sensual fire within.
Jongin returned the favor through his performance. He tossed flirtatious looks over his shoulder and timed his lip-biting for full effect. He delighted in Sehun’s eyes raking over his form, the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip spurring him on. Jongin danced his way toward him and impishly trailed his fingers down his chest.
Sehun captured his wrists in a flash, growling low in his throat. “Are you seducing me?”
Jongin leaned forward without breaking eye contact. Their lips a hairsbreadth away, he whispered, cocksure, “Is it working?”
“So what’s the deal between you and Sehun?”
Jongin returned from escorting the last client out to Jongdae’s question. He didn’t answer right away, opting for sinking into the comfort of his office chair first with a contented purr. After a minute gone by through closed eyes, he reopened them to two choco pie packs and Jongdae standing in front of his table, arms akimbo.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Jongin asked, opening a pack.
“You’ve been dating for three months. Technically, no one is exclusive unless they find their soul mate, but what if he does?”
“We stop seeing each other,” Jongin said, like a fact he’d known for a long time. “It’s happened before; I don’t see why he’s an exception.”
Jongdae studied him-critical, skeptical. “Do you think this will be similar to the other times?” His question came off more as a genuine inquiry than an actual challenge.
“Maybe,” came Jongin’s slow admittance.
A meaningful pause. “What if you can’t give him up even if he gets a string and finds his soul mate?”
The concern behind the question wasn’t missed. Beyond the professional employer-employee relationship, they treated each other like brothers from different mothers; thus, Jongin confided in Jongdae the more intimate details of his relationships past and present. Jongin was also well aware Jongdae never asked empty questions. Although he couldn’t answer in the end, it rooted itself to the corridors of his mind, badgering him with its endless echoes.
And it echoed louder every time Sehun popped up during lunch breaks even if he had nothing to return; every time Sehun insisted on accompanying him home on nights the exhaustion from Snipping overpowered him; every time Sehun pressed a reverent kiss to his forehead and tightened his hold around him, both bare of clothing but ensconced in their combined body heat.
Under the treacherous summer heat, they spent Sunday in Yeouido Hangang Park and played with the zeal and energy of kindergarteners in the Waterside Fountains. Jongin should’ve known better than believing Sehun’s innocent request of checking it out. Sehun wasted no time in bending down and splashed water on him. Jongin declared war, except nobody won in their equally-soused states. Sehun took responsibility by ordering his favorite chicken and picnicked by the riverside.
“What will you do when you meet your soul mate?”
Sehun chewed first before replying, honesty seeping through his words, “I don’t know. I might scare them away with my eyebrows, or presume frowning is my specialty. I’ve imagined countless scenarios, but there’s no guarantee if any of them will happen.”
“Fair point,” Jongin conceded.
Sehun picked up a drumstick using his chopsticks. “And you? You’ve never shared your thoughts about soul mates.” He blinked twice. “Come to think of it, I don’t know if you have a red string. Oh, who am I kidding? You’re a Fatemaster-of course you have one.”
Jongin’s eyes flitted over his bare pinkies, mouth twitching into a wry smile.
“I don’t believe in soul mates. I only believe in love.”
Jongin waited for a jeer or a joke. Neither came.
Sehun whistled low and rubbed his nape, not speaking up right away. “I won’t lie, I don’t know who they are, but I’m already envious of the person fate has decided for you.” He chuckled, albeit unnatural-sounding-or, perhaps, only Jongin interpreted it as such.
Without warning, Sehun rose to his feet, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Soul mate, stop taking detours and come meet me already! If not, you’ll lose me to Jongin!”
Jongin gawked at him, heat spreading across his cheeks. Lacking a proper reaction, he opted for laughing it off, high-pitched and embarrassed, though it couldn’t extinguish the dread burning in his chest set off by the mere thought of parting ways in the future.
Quarter past six on a Friday evening, Jongin hovered near Megabox’s entrance, hands shoved into his jeans pockets and eyes peeled open for Sehun. Tired of standing without doing anything, he whipped out his phone and picked a random game. Devising tactics for a virtual battle served as great distraction from the nagging unease following him like a stubborn ghost since Sehun’s no-show during lunchtime. Granted, Sehun had texted him an explanation of his absence, except it did little in subduing the stirring unrest.
Sehun turned up after an additional ten-minute wait. Jongin spotted him at once and waved an arm in the air, his face breaking out in a huge smile. It slipped off inch by inch, however, at the sight of a thin, red string looped around Sehun’s left pinky.
“You have a red string,” Jongin stated, once Sehun was within arm’s reach. Numbness enveloped him in its ice-cold embrace.
Sehun beamed. “I felt a slight pinch on the bus ride here. I couldn’t believe it at first-I thought I was hallucinating.” He eyed his string in obvious captivation and touched it. His finger passed through. “So this is what it looks like…”
The heaviness in Jongin’s chest intensified. He clenched his hands into tight fists. “You’re halfway to meeting your soul mate.”
Sehun met his eyes, hesitating for a heartbeat before nodding. “It’s a good thing, isn’t it?” He flicked his hand twice and the string followed the movement akin to an undulating wave. “Say, you think I’ll find my soul mate if I follow the string?”
Jongin laughed in spite of himself. “I’ve never heard of anyone act on the idea, even if it had crossed their minds.”
Sehun grasped his hand. “Have you checked what’s showing?” He jerked his head toward the posters on display.
Jongin stared down at their joined hands. A storm of emotions brewed within. He would’ve enjoyed the warmth of Sehun’s hand and the firmness of his grip more had this happened before the birth of the red string. Now the same warmth scorched his skin, the same grip like a direct squeeze to the heart.
And yet, Jongin couldn’t stop wanting to hold this hand that fit his own so well.
Tickets purchased, Sehun released Jongin’s hand to take his phone. Jongin seized it back in lightning speed, weaving their fingers together.
Sehun lifted questioning eyes at him but didn’t repeat the action. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong as long as I’m holding your hand.”
Sehun’s should’ve been immune to his random bursts of sappiness by now, but his speechless state and flushed cheeks said otherwise. He pinched Jongin’s nose once recovered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jongin allowed himself a feeble smile. He tightened his hold on Sehun’s hand.
Breaking up was easy.
Jongin followed a strict, uncomplicated rule in terms of dating. He’d have his fun for as long as the relationship lasted, but if it ran its course or his partner had found their soul mate, they would part ways-no questions asked. Most of them didn’t understand why-and, to a lesser extent, argued with him about it-but complied in the end.
He’d seen so many openings to drop the bomb on Sehun; thrown so many opportunities to break his heart. The urge doubled whenever he caught a glimpse of his red string; yet every time he prepared to spill the words, Sehun quelled them with an arm around his shoulders if he wanted him closer, the lightest brush of his fingers against his cheek, or stolen kisses during a movie’s boring bits.
Breaking up should be easy.
Jongin had done it numerous times-no matter how much he adored the other person, no matter how compatible. Heartbreak was as inevitable as it was a natural part of life, and though some experiences hurt more than others, he won against the pain and sadness by sheer determination.
The damned string should be reason enough. More than reason enough. It was the top deal-breaker for Jongin in any relationship; yet every time he gathered the courage, Sehun kissed him a little deeper, held him a little tighter, loved him a little harder. It obliterated Jongin’s steel resolve and left him vulnerable in his hands.
Breaking up never posed as a problem for Jongin before, but Sehun’s whirlwind arrival wrenched him away from his rigid principles and spared not a single vestige of their existence. In its place bloomed yearning, raw and untamed and all-consuming; sparked the rebirth of reluctance, an old friend he hadn’t acquainted himself with for the longest time; and the age-old mind and heart battle, where only one could prevail.
A hardbound copy of Les Thanatonautes fell from Jongin’s hand, landing on the floor with a resounding thud. His ears rang at the unwelcome reverberation, and he glowered at his right pinky. The finger had been hurting in the past few days, pinpricks of pain first circling the base before morphing into a paralyzing throb. It annoyed him enough he couldn’t come up with an explanation for this, but the unpredictable timing of its attacks was a whole new level of frustration.
Jongdae emerged from the storage room and passed by the aisle Jongin stood in. One look and a cloud of understanding moved across his face. “You should have it checked. It’s the only way to confirm if it is or isn’t a medical condition.”
Jongin took several deep breaths, willing for the pain to subside. “It’s bearable.”
“Says the person who acts like he’s dying when he gets a paper cut.”
Jongin hit him on the shoulder in embarrassment. Jongdae reciprocated and cackled at his whining.
Over takeout dinner that evening in Jongin’s apartment, Sehun asked, “When were you going to tell me about your finger pain?”
Jongin almost spat out his drink all over the table. “Who told you?” He groaned. “It was Jongdae-hyung, wasn’t it?”
Sehun’s brows met in the middle. “Why is it hurting? Is it serious? Do you need a specialist?” he asked, as if he didn’t hear Jongin.
“I don’t know; no; and no. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it. I’m serious. Now, smile, ₩100. I like you better when you do.” Jongin reached across the table with the intention of ruffling Sehun’s hair, but the sudden jolt of pain in his pinky stopped him. He wasn’t fast enough in hiding his discomfort, or biting back a yelp.
Sehun rushed over to his side. He gingerly held Jongin’s hand, frown deepening. “Next time, don’t hide it from me. I don’t care if you think it’s trivial. Tell me.” He rubbed soothing up and down motions on his pinky with the pad of his thumb, gaze softening as he asked, “Better?”
Either Sehun’s touch had healing properties, or the pleasant swelling in Jongin’s chest caused by the visible concern on his features deluded him into thinking this, but the pain receded by a considerable amount.
“Was your string red from birth, or was it conditional like mine?”
“The first one, but it disappeared.”
“That happens?” Sehun asked, incredulous.
Jongin couldn’t help a tiny smile. “It didn’t disappear in a flash. After my Sight acquisition, I began helping out my grandfather during his Snipping sessions. Three years into the business, the customers’ hypocrisies shattered the fantasy behind the so-called absolute power of fate. The disappointments piled on till my string vanished. My grandfather consulted other Fatemasters, but no one could offer a solution or an answer”
“Sounds like the back story of a shounen manga protagonist.”
Jongin snorted and pushed Sehun’s forehead with his forefinger as if to scold.
Sehun continued his ministrations in the ensuing silence. “Don’t you want your string back?”
Jongin shrugged. “It makes no difference whether I have it or not. I would rather choose who I’ll spend my life with than depend on a mystical string to tell me who is or isn’t the right person.”
“I’m so flattered you love me this much.” Sehun nodded in approval.
Jongin huffed but didn’t disagree. He wiggled his hand out of Sehun’s grasp, the pain in his pinky long gone. At Sehun’s worried look, he assured, “My finger’s okay now. Thank you.”
“I can think of other ways you can thank me.”
Before Jongin could lecture him on timing his innuendos better, Sehun reclaimed his hand and linked their pinkies. “Holding hands isn’t bad, but this is nice, too,” he said, a childish grin lighting up his face. “They fit perfectly together, too-like it’s meant to be.”
Although he smiled in acknowledgment, Jongin’s heart twinged at the thought of Sehun linking pinkies with someone else. The pain in his pinky roused and bit back with a vengeance.
“Seriously, Jongin, if your ancestors had encountered such an occurrence, don’t you think they would’ve recorded it? We’ve already leafed through these journals many times but still have no answers.” Jongdae set one aside and opened another.
“Just keep looking, hyung,” Jongin said without raising his head. He turned page after page, skimming their contents but constantly emerged empty-handed. The pain hadn’t stopped its intermittent assaults on his pinky, but the bigger question was why it dwindled if his mind focused anything Sehun-related.
“What are we even looking for? The answer to being in love?” Jongdae retorted, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know about pinkies hurting, but have you not considered maybe your string is growing back?”
Jongin’s hand froze. He whipped his head toward Jongdae so fast he nearly pulled a neck muscle.
Taken aback at Jongin’s reaction, Jongdae continued, “You cut strings and they grow back after a month. Yours vanished many years ago, and maybe you’re a unique case, but have you never considered the possibility it could return?”
Jongin opened and closed his mouth but produced no reply. Missing key pieces clicked into place, and though the picture was far from complete, what bits and pieces he could see added up.
He smacked his forehead for not realizing it sooner, though. “You could be on to something, hyung.”
Jongdae wore a smug look. “And here I thought you were the smarter one between us.” Jongin laughed at the joke. “Now, the question is: why is it happening now? Do you think…?”
Jongin raised his right pinky and stared, contemplative. Despite trailing off on purpose, he knew what Jongdae wanted to ask. The possibility was huge. He just wasn’t sure if he could believe in it.
Pain relief came in the form of a gleaming pink ring after several days later.
Jongin broke the news to Sehun in the middle of their movie-watching. Sehun lifted his head off of his chest to look at him, expressionless face unnerving him. Not even the noises coming from the movie could drown out the deafening silence, or soothe Jongin’s nerves.
“What now?”
Jongin blinked several times, as if not believing the one-sentence response, much less it coming from Sehun. “You know a pink ring can end two ways-”
“That’s not what I meant,” Sehun interrupted. “Does your pink ring change things?”
Jongin’s face creased in confusion. Gradual understanding smoothed it out when the implication behind Sehun’s words sank in. He ignored the lump forming in his throat, and said, in a voice barely above a whisper, “If you’re asking for freedom-”
“Again, that’s not what I meant-”
“What, then?” Jongin snapped, raising his voice. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not asking for a breakup,” Sehun spoke in his softest, gentlest voice Jongin had heard from him. He held both of Jongin’s hands with profound tenderness, eyes downcast. “I’m hurt you think I’d want one, though.”
“It will happen sooner or later, anyway,” Jongin muttered with conviction, albeit forced.
“We are not breaking up,” Sehun insisted, the calmness and resolution in his tone never wavering. “I believe in soul mates. Still do. But a soul mate doesn’t necessarily have to be the person you share a string with. It can be someone else. Someone you develop a strong connection with. Someone you can’t bear being apart from for even a day. Someone you see not only in your dreams but in your future, too.”
Sehun released Jongin’s hands and framed his face between his palms. Their lips met in a long, slow, searching kiss. He looked straight into his eyes after pulling apart. “I don’t care if our strings will lead us to different people in the future. You are my soul mate. Only you.”
Jongin bit his lower lip, eyes brimming with joyful tears. His forehead fell against Sehun’s shoulder. “You better keep you word, or else.”
One shared laugh, and Jongin raised his head so he could kiss Sehun once more.
The future remained uncertain, but for tonight, as they shed their clothes along with their doubts, bodies melding into one, they existed in a world where nothing threatened to tear them apart.
Business on Wednesday morning started slow, but the entrance of the third customer shook things up in The Hidden Nook. Jongin noticed him straightaway from behind a bookshelf in the History section, but it was Jongdae who approached with a genial smile. Jongdae stopped halfway with a loud cry of surprise, pointing a shaky finger at the customer’s right pinky. Tied around it was a red string directly linked to Jongdae’s.
The customer grinned, waving his pinky. “Hey, soul mate. Nice to finally meet you.”
Jongdae grabbed the first object from the display stand-a paperback edition of Cinder-and hurled it at him. His soul mate ducked, the book flying over his head and hitting the wall.
“You fickle bastard!”
Times like these, Jongin thanked the higher forces he wasn’t the target of Jongdae’s accurate aim. Jongdae’s chest heaved in an attempt at calming his rage. His soul mate’s grin remained plastered on and even laughed it off, warning Jongdae in a singsong voice he shouldn’t be rash, though Jongin noticed a slight tremble in their knees.
He introduced himself as Byun Baekhyun, a rising star in the musical world and one of Jongin’s regular Snipping clients. The only reason they never crossed paths until now was because Baekhyun’s appointments always coincided with Jongdae’s absences.
“And? Are you expecting me to gush about fate’s mysterious ways in bringing us together or some similar shit?”
“God, don’t be so hostile.” Baekhyun blew out an impatient sigh, but the tinge of nervousness in his voice was discernible. “Yeah, I know the constant cutting doesn’t paint me in a good light. I’d detest me, too, if I was in your place.”
“‘Detest’ doesn’t even cut it!”
“Work with me here, okay? Arguing with my soul mate is not how I imagined our first meeting would go!”
Five minutes of verbal matches and three tries at placating later, Baekhyun asked Jongdae out for coffee after work. Jongdae’s annoyance hadn’t abated but grunted in assent.
“He seems like a nice guy, indecisiveness aside,” Jongin remarked after Baekhyun’s departure, loud enough for Jongdae to hear.
Jongdae’s face turned dour, stuffing the slip of paper with Baekhyun’s contact details inside his back pocket. “Nothing’s proven until he explains himself.” He expelled a big, deep sigh. “Better wish your soul mate won’t turn out like Byun Baekhyun, whoever they are.”
Jongin’s pink ring had turned red a week ago, followed by the complete restoration of his string and the steady, insistent tugging on his right pinky. Apprehension filled him as he wondered how he’d tell Sehun and his plausible reaction, given it happened on the day he flew out to Jeju for work, but a part of him clutched onto the expectation he’d honor the promise of standing by each other.
The rest of the day breezed by without any more unusual happenings. Come seven in the evening, everybody had left, save for Jongin who stayed behind reading the latest Higashino Keigo novel in the second floor. He nearly committed the mistake of ignoring his ringing phone in favor of starting a new chapter had he not seen Sehun’s name flashing on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Miss me?” Sehun asked, teasing but with a seriousness behind it.
“No one’s here to return or keep tabs on my lost items, so yes.” Jongin reveled in the rich sound of Sehun’s laughter. “How was your day?”
“I’m back in Seoul.”-Jongin perked up-“We finished a day early, but I might return next week depending on the client’s request. Are you still at the bookshop? I’m on my way.”
“Hurry up, then; I need nourishment.” Sehun laughed harder, and Jongin’s smile grew fonder. Breathless, lighthearted, and just a little more in love, he added, “And yes-yes, I miss you.”
The bell above the door jingled. Jongin dashed down the stairs in breakneck speed while still on the phone, heart beating in a staccato rhythm against his chest. Several paces away stood Sehun with a suitcase in tow, phone still pressed to his ear, mouth twisted in happiness. Jongin stepped forward but stopped. The arm holding the phone fell slowly to his side in shock.
Sehun’s string stretched tight between them and connected to his, thick and shimmering bright red.
Prompt: #150
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~8360 words
Summary: Fate is capricious but also an undeniable thing of beauty.
Notes: Dear prompter, first and foremost, thank you very much for the challenging prompt. I took some minor liberties with it and the bonus points, but nothing too drastic, I assure you. I might expand on this someday, but as of now, this is as good as complete. I hope you like it!
In the heart of Gangnam, a two-storey bookshop called The Hidden Nook opened its doors at nine o’clock sharp six times a week. Although not as spacious and popular like its commercial counterparts, the ground floor boasted an impressive collection for both fiction and non-fiction works sold at a far cheaper price. Upstairs was the reading section designed and decorated like a living room, with built-in bookshelves lining the walls and contained titles that rotated every month.
Two unique details set The Hidden Nook apart from its competitors. One was the shop owner’s reputation for acquiring rare gems unseen anywhere in the country. No one knew how and where it began, but word on the street claimed a literary snob entered the shop one day and expressed discontent over the offerings. The bookshop owner accepted their challenge of obtaining a rare vintage novel penned by a European author. A week later, the bookshop owner presented a secondhand copy in mint condition and gained a new patron in return.
Shrouded by mystery and intrigue, only a handful had seen the bookshop owner in person. Not even the regular customers knew what he looked like. The handful who had, however, shared a common predicament unrelated to books and landed them a meeting with him. Though no concrete evidence could be provided, gossip declared this the shop’s second selling point.
Kim Jongdae, the bookshop owner’s assistant, wrapped up cleaning and opened shop on a sunny Monday. He just about took his post behind the counter when the bell above the door chimed. A woman in her mid-twenties with coiffed hair and stylish clothes entered.
“Would you like some assistance or prefer browsing alone?” Jongdae asked after greeting her.
“I’m not here for the books,” she said, darting her eyes around as if unsure of her purpose.
“You don’t look the type to read, anyway.”
A man in his early twenties descended the corner spiral staircase, carrying a hardbound book in his arms, eyes half-lidded with sleep.
“Jongin, you can’t talk to a customer like that,” Jongdae chided, face sheepish.
Jongin deposited the book on the nearby cart. He gave the affronted woman an once-over, zeroed in on her fingers, and concealed a yawn behind his hand. “If you’re not here to buy anything, follow me.”
They entered an office situated at the back of the shop, interior simple and straightforward in its purpose. Jongin handed her a form and checked for unanswered fields after she finished, then set it aside for Jongdae to enter into the database later. He procured a red candle on a fancy brass holder and a small pot from the cabinet behind the chair and set them on the table.
The young woman, whom he now called Ms. Choi, averted her eyes toward the door. Her forehead creased. “Isn’t the shop owner rumored to be in charge of this?”
Jongin lit the candle with a single tap of his finger to the wick, smiling at the bewildered gasp it stole from Ms. Choi. “I am the owner who will be doing the procedure.”
Still speechless, Ms. Choi offered her hand when Jongin asked for it. He dipped his fingers into the open pot and rubbed the scented salve around the base of her pinky. He measured five inches of string away from it and applied the same amount. “Why do you want your red string cut?”
“My soul mate and I have been fighting a lot recently. You know how things are twice as intense when you’ve found each other, right?” At Jongin’s nod, Ms. Choi continued, “Well, I’ve had it. For now, I don’t want to feel anything. I want to think about our relationship without the string influencing my decisions.”
“You’re not the first person to seek me out for that reason,” Jongin remarked. He held the uncoated section of the string with careful fingers and positioned it above the flame. “And you certainly won’t be the last.”
The string broke once it met the flame. The longer half remained floating in midair even as it caught on fire, fading from view in a slow burn into transparency. Jongin tied the excess five-inch string into a bow.
“How did that happen?” Ms. Choi asked, stunned. “The string disappeared, but this”-she shook her pinky-“stayed?”
“The carrier of intention is more susceptible to the complete eradication of the string. The salve I used prevents it from happening. This is a temporary arrangement, after all. Your soul mate’s string will tie itself into a bow, but needs no protection since he believes in its power.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“If he was a willing participant, he should be here too, shouldn’t he?” Jongin pointed out, not unkindly.
Ms. Choi reddened but said nothing.
“If it makes you feel any better, it’s rare for couples who mutually want their strings cut, so you’re not the only one who’s come here solo.”
Jongin escorted Ms. Choi out of his office and listed off additional instructions. Ms. Choi paid the required amount at the counter, and dipped her head toward Jongin in gratitude before leaving.
Jongdae opened a drawer under the counter and tossed a pack of choco pie to Jongin. “How many procedures can you do today?”
“I’m tired, so only five,” Jongin answered around a mouthful of choco pie. “If not, I’ll cut it down to three.”
“Snipping really takes a toll on you, huh?” Jongdae reached out and ruffled Jongin’s hair. “If you didn’t sleep so late, you’d have enough energy to last you through seven sessions.”
Jongin hummed in agreement and consumed the last of his choco pie. He noticed a bow on Jongdae’s left pinky and frowned. “Did your soul mate cut their string again?”
Jongdae sighed and shrugged. “This is the third time within the year. Whoever they are, they’re fickle as hell.”
“Don’t worry, hyung. When you meet, they’ll realize what they’re missing out on and decide against a fourth procedure.”
“They better hurry up, then, because I can’t wait to have a name and face I can curse.”
The clock struck one on a slow Tuesday afternoon, the gentle sound echoing throughout the bookshop. Jongin shook his head and patted his cheeks for good measure. He finished three consecutive Snipping appointments this morning and ate half a dozen choco pies in preparation for four more later, though a nap sounded tempting like Jongdae suggested earlier.
The tinkling of the bell jolted Jongin awake. He uttered a soft but warm “Welcome,” and stared at the customer: a young man around the same age as him or younger, tall as a beanstalk, proportions of a runway model and dressed like one, as well. Out of habit, Jongin’s gaze fell to his hands, raising an eyebrow at the pink ring of light on his left pinky. Jongin thought him one of the more handsome guys he’d seen in a while, except the knitted brows and the stern downturn of his mouth exuded an unapproachable grouch vibe.
Minutes later, Jongin was checking out advanced programming books. He announced the total, counted the amount handed to him, and said, “You’re short of ₩100.”
The customer’s eyes widened, mouth forming a small ‘O’ before he dug into his pockets. He handed the coin and mumbled an apology, smile tiny and awkward. The image reversal charmed Jongin, noting with a hidden grin how shyness was an attractive look on him.
Too bad this was a one-time encounter. Jongin would’ve liked to see him again.
“As always, thank you for traveling all the way here despite your busy schedule.”
“I don’t mind,” Jongin said. “Consider it a benefit of a loyal shop patron.”
The elderly man tore off the paper and examined the books, humming in satisfaction upon affirming their pristine condition. “I take it these weren’t easy to obtain?”
“I had to do some digging, but nothing too troublesome.”
“Impressive. You do live up to your reputation,” the elderly man praised. “Would you join me for afternoon tea?”
“I would love to.”
On days a package for Grandpa Oh arrived, Jongin carved out time to personally deliver it to his estate located on the fringes of Seoul. Normally, customers picked up their orders from the bookshop; Grandpa Oh did, too, but a severe case of flu and joint pains confined him to bed for days. Without thinking twice, Jongin delivered his books in person, sensing the old man might crave for a companion. A routine was established from then on. Jongin didn’t mind-it helped he enjoyed Grandpa Oh’s company and chatter, so treating him like his own grandfather came easy.
They chatted over a pot of green tea and pastries in Grandpa Oh’s study. A charming man in his late seventies with a receding hairline and a convivial demeanor, Grandpa Oh still possessed clear eyesight and the stamina of a teenager, living his retirement days as he wished. If he wasn’t at the country club playing golf or tennis, he was watching movies in the mall or hitting the cafés teenagers flocked to. He devoured novels like a man starved for a decade and took Jongin’s recommendations, a majority of them suiting his taste.
“I wish my grandson cultivated the same interest you have in books,” Grandpa Oh said. He shook his head as if in remorse. “The only reading he does is for work.”
“Maybe he needs the right book to convert him.”
“I’ve tried. Believe me, I did,” Grandpa Oh said, frustration detectable in his words. “My attempts never bore fruit. I’ve long given up.”
The bark of a dog interrupted Jongin’s reply. A white Bichon Frise scampered into the study and approached Grandpa Oh, who set his cup aside and reached down to pat its head. “Good boy,” he cooed.
As a frequent visitor, Jongin was no stranger to Vivi and sometimes played with him. He called out Vivi’s name at the same time someone else did. Vivi padded up to Jongin and sat by his feet, tail wagging in excitement. Jongin’s attention drifted to the newcomer, his face drawn with unconcealed surprise. The newcomer mirrored his look.
“₩100, what are you doing here?” Jongin asked after finding his voice back.
A scowl replaced the faded surprise, recreating the look Jongin remembered from their first meeting. “I live here,” he retorted, miffed. “What are you doing here?”
Grandpa Oh’s amused chuckle broke the tension. “Introductions are in order, I see. Jongin, this is my grandson, Sehun. Sehun, this is Jongin, the owner of the bookshop I told you about.” He pulled out the vacant seat beside him. “Why don’t you join us for tea?”
Sehun’s scowl remained but obeyed his grandfather.
Jongin discovered Sehun wasn’t much of a talker despite his participation in the discussions. He also discovered they shared the same age. Sehun had recently returned to the country after his one-year deployment in Shanghai, explaining why Jongin never saw him during his visits. After revealing his occupation as a software engineer, Sehun couldn’t stop himself from laughing at Jongin’s flabbergasted but comical face (and almost snorted tea out of his nose in the process).
“Sorry for calling you ₩100. It just slipped,” Jongin apologized much later, after the tea session ended and he took his leave. Grandpa Oh asked Sehun to see him out in his place, eager to start on his new novel, and shooed them out of his study.
Sehun’s blank expression could’ve fooled anybody, except Jongin noticed the trembling edges of his mouth from fighting back what he assumed was a smile. “Can’t be helped. I’d have called you that, too, if we switched places. It’s quite the unforgettable moment.”
“You have quite the unforgettable face, so it helps.”
“I know, right?” Sehun preened.
Jongin huffed, and they dissolved into uncontrollable laughter that accompanied them for the rest of their walk.
The following week, Grandpa Oh informed Jongin he wouldn’t be home for the delivery; instead, Sehun would pick it up for him since his workplace was located in the same area, anyway. Jongin passed the time waiting in the second floor, lounging on a couch and reading a novel. The last customer had long left, along with the other part-timers and Jongdae.
Sehun arrived half past seven, apologizing for the wait. He lifted the paper bag off the counter and cursed at the unexpected weight. “Okay, this is heavy. What are these things made of-bricks?”
“No, but hardbound books weigh heavier than your usual paperback, especially by the bundle,” Jongin said, turning the lights off and locking up. “Your grandfather has a preference for them. He also likes bigger fonts, even if he has no eyesight problems.”
“He should invest in an e-reader,” Sehun said, grimacing at the extra weight he had to carry while walking. “You can take it anywhere, equipped with an adjustable typeface option, and you can store hundreds of novels without worrying about losing space in your bookshelves, never mind he has a ton of room for hundreds of those.”
“Some prefer holding the actual book in their hands than reading off a screen.”
Sehun gave him a sidelong glance. “Oh, god, are you one of those pretentious asses who think choosing real books puts them above people who read e-books?”
He should take offense, but the comment was worded in a way Jongin found funny and laughed it off. “I’ve been accused of such, but no. Nice try, though,” he said, parting ways with Sehun at the bus stop.
“So what’s your reason?” Sehun asked the next day.
Either Jongin hadn’t completely adjusted to the reality of Sehun’s unannounced appearance, or his timing in grabbing an open opportunity was off, but he said the first thing on his mind: “How about I tell you over dinner?”
Sehun blinked but didn’t answer. Jongin half expected a rejection and braced himself for it, but Sehun’s nod surprised him again.
Fifteen minutes and a bus ride later, they sat in a booth in a restaurant Sehun had recommended on the way. “So let’s hear it,” Sehun said, leaning back in his seat.
“I just prefer real books over e-readers. That’s it.”
Sehun rolled his eyes. “How anticlimactic. I was expecting something grander or atypical.” Flat tone aside, it lacked the heat or annoyance Jongin thought he’d harbor. “Wait-was this an elaborate scheme to rope me into eating with you? You’re older than me, so you’re paying.” The last few words carried a teasing undertone.
“You dare order your elder?” Jongin teased back, feigning anger.
Sehun busied himself with the side dishes and Jongin finished a new chapter while waiting for their orders. They ate in comfortable silence, broken by the occasional talk about Grandpa Oh. It diminished completely after Sehun blurted out an offhand comment about liking the beat of the song playing in the background. Conversation about the artist led to a revelation of Sehun dancing to his songs in college, triggering Jongin’s excitement upon finding a fellow (former) dancer.
Jongin sighed in nostalgia afterward. “Our talk about dancing makes me realize I miss it a lot.”
“My friend owns a dance school. I’ll ask him to spare a studio for us if you’re up for a showdown.”
“You sound confident.”
Sehun flashed him a self-satisfied smile. “I show no mercy on the dance floor.”
Jongin’s eyes wandered around the restaurant after settling the bill. Red strings in various states hung suspended in midair around him, some crisscrossing with others but never tangling together. Two tables away, a young man and woman pair sat opposite of each other, strings needle-thin compared to most in the vicinity. The young woman lifted a piece of kimchi off the saucer when her string glowed. Jongin tried following the trail but the limited view from his seat didn’t help.
Sehun followed Jongin’s line of sight. “Why are you looking at the couple?”
“They’re not a couple,” Jongin said, still looking. Peripheral vision caught a waiter walking up to them, carrying a tray containing two bowls. The string around his left pinky glowed without him noticing. Each stride shortened the distance like a countdown; the young woman and waiter locked gazes, mouths open in astonishment as they raised their pinkies together. The once thin string had now thickened, covered in a luminous shine.
“They’re soul mates? How’d you know?” Sehun sounded floored. His eyes remained glued on the newly-formed couple.
“I can see their strings.”
Sehun’s eyebrows pulled together. “But a normal person can only see their soul mate’s string aside from their own.”
Jongin remained silent, watching Sehun struggle in his search for answers. He could almost hear the cogs in Sehun’s mind whirring. He drummed his fingers on the table in anticipation.
Sehun’s jaw dropped. “Well, damn. I’m talking to an urban legend. No-I’m talking to an ancient relic!”
Jongin laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Actually, I’m called a Fatemaster.”
“What’s it like?”
Jongin spared Sehun a glance before closing the cash register. “What’s what like?”
“Seeing and doing what others can’t.”
A few seconds passed. “Strange. Confusing. Needs a few adjustments and tons of reminders I can see objects invisible to the masses. Helps keep this bookshop afloat amid a tight economy-my favorite benefit, if I’m to be honest. Cutting strings fetch a steep price, but it doesn’t stop people from spending over it.”
Sehun’s prolonged silence and contemplative countenance snatched Jongin’s attention. “You’re asking a lot of questions today. Something on your mind?”
“I’m… confused.” Sehun licked his lips. He stared at the receipt stapled on his purchase before continuing, “I don’t have a string-or at least, I can’t see it. I want to know why. Is… Is it too late to have one?”
Jongin shook his head. “Strings are as fickle as fate: they appear whenever they want to. You have one, but it’s not what I’d call a string.” Sehun’s face paled, so he quickly amended, “Some aren’t granted red strings from birth; instead, they have pink rings. You can’t see it because those without Sight are only capable of seeing fully-matured red strings, soul mate found or not.”
Sehun raised a free hand to eye level, inspecting his fingers like they held the answers. “So it all boils down to a waiting game?” he asked, sighing.
This time, Jongin nodded. “Just a heads-up: a pink ring isn’t always a good thing. If you’re lucky, it will turn red and produce a string.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
A corner of Jongin’s mouth curved upward. “Hmm, I wonder…”
Sehun groaned. “Oh, c’mon, don’t tease.”
“I can tell you one thing since you’re that curious.” Jongin flipped the sign on the door and double checked the lock before heading for the bus station. “Most people whose pink rings never turned red were driven to the brink of despair. If you don’t want the same thing to happen to you, wish for red.”
“I don’t have to wish for it-I know it will turn red.” The determination and confidence in Sehun’s words were palpable. “The moment it does, I’ll search for the person on the other end.”
“Oh.” Jongin stopped in his tracks and wrinkled his nose. “Are you one of those insufferable romantics who won’t engage in a relationship unless it’s with their soul mate?”
Sehun stopped, too. “I don’t belong to that crowd,” he scoffed and paired it with an eye roll. “And so what if I believe in soul mates. Don’t you?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You’re annoying, just saying,” Sehun complained, sans real heat; just the tiniest hint of frustration.
Unfazed, Jongin reached out a hand and rubbed the creased skin between Sehun’s eyebrows with his thumb. Sehun tensed under his touch, but he didn’t pull back or swat his hand away. Puzzlement stole across his face as he waited for an explanation behind the gesture.
“You look better smiling,” was Jongin’s offered reply. He didn’t bother hiding a triumphant grin at Sehun’s red cheeks.
Sehun cleared his throat and transferred the paper bag onto his other arm. “I’m starving; can we walk faster?”
“Are you sure you still want my company even if I’m annoying?” Jongin teased, falling into step with him.
Sehun huffed and shot him a glare, but Jongin caught the faintest trace of a smile forming.
Early evening Thursday, a part-timer ushered Sehun inside Jongin’s office, tearing him away from the e-mail he’d been drafting.
“You forgot your book.” Sehun placed said object beside the keyboard.
Jongin’s mouth formed an ‘O,’ eyes enlarged. He held it with both hands. “I thought I’ve lost it forever.” His voice overflowed with relief. “Where’d you find it?”
“You forgot about it in your rush to get home. I chased after you but you’d already boarded the bus.”
Jongin showed his thanks by serving Sehun tea in his office. The surprise appearance was a welcome distraction from the unfinished paperwork waiting on his desk, and marked the first time he’d received him in his office. Even with his frequent visits to the bookshop, Sehun was limited to the counter for package pick-ups and random aisles he fancied browsing.
Sehun looked around his surroundings and clucked his tongue in disapproval. “The magic happens here? It’s so plain.”
“Plain is best.”
“Even my cubicle at HQ looks cozier.” Sehun sipped his tea. His eyes landed on the tray of snacks. “Is choco pie your favorite food? Nine times out of ten I never see you without it.”
“My favorite food is chicken. Choco pies replenish my spiritual energy.”
“Your what?” Sehun exclaimed, like he hadn’t heard right.
Amused, Jongin sat back and munched on the treat. “You think I can cut red strings without consequence? Wrong. A normal person’s spiritual energy level lies between the low and zero range for the rest of their life. In contrast, a Fatemaster’s spiritual energy level reaches above average on the chart, and, on rare occasions, owns a limitless supply. I use a portion of my spiritual energy to perform Snipping, but I can’t do it round the clock or I’d run myself into the ground.
“Choco pies have been my quick fix since childhood. It’s different for others, depending on what fate picks for you. My grandfather thrived on pickled plums. My great grandmother gained strength by smelling flowers.” Fondness crossed Jongin’s face at the mention of them.
Sehun nodded his head in understanding.
“Right, before I forget,” Sehun started, after a few moments’ silence, “here’s a confession: I tried reading the first chapter, but I only lasted three paragraphs.”
Jongin chuckled. “Reading really isn’t your thing, huh?”
“I had a short-lived affair with manhwa in high school. Give me a movie and I’d have more interest.”
“Tell you what: take the book and finish one chapter. Return it if it’s not to your liking.”
Sehun adapted a thinking pose, feigned deliberation reflected in his playful smirk. “My labor doesn’t come cheap, you know.”
“If you can finish it, I’ll take you out on a movie of your choice on Saturday.”
“Only a movie?”
Somehow, Jongin predicted he’d say this, but it still extracted a laugh from him. “I’ll buy you a meal, too. Yeah, you’ll pick the place. Yeah, I’ll pay.” He tacked on the last two sentences before Sehun could sass him.
He never saw Sehun’s face light up so fast, or agree in the same speed.
Jongin slipped his contact details into the book in case Sehun wanted a discussion or declare his second surrender. He received his first KakaoTalk message later that night.
9:35 PM
I made it past the first scene, hehe~
Quiet laughter left Jongin as he typed a reply.
9:36 PM
Will you make it past the second scene?
Two dance covers on YouTube later, Sehun responded with a flurry of texts:
9:43 PM
I finished the first chapter.
9:44 PM
My brain isn’t hurting.
9:45 PM
Yet.
9:46 PM
Grandpa passed by and almost had a conniption. The sight of me reading must’ve been too much for him.
9:47 PM
WTF, this requires more concentration than I thought.
Jongin might not see him, but he could imagine Sehun wearing his trademark frown, reading sentence after sentence.
9:48 PM
Trudge on, Oh Sehun ;)
The next day, Jongin woke up to a detailed commentary of Sehun’s reading adventure. The first dozen composed of violent reactions to select characters’ deeds. The second batch contained profuse (metaphorical) sobbing at the ultimate plot twist. He concluded it with an Instagram link showing a picture of the novel propped up against a lamp, the bedside clock displaying the time as five-five.
The caption read: “Never one for books but this kept me hanging on to the last word. No regrets.”
Jongin’s thumb had never flown across the keypad so fast.
7:30 AM
See you on Saturday :D
After the monumental movie and dinner date, The Hidden Nook saw an increase in Sehun’s visits not for previously established reasons, but rather-
“You forgot your earphones.”
“You forgot your glasses.”
“You forgot your pen.”
“Holy shit,” Jongdae swore in his bafflement. “Who sacrifices their lunch break to return a cheap pen? Actually, no, don’t answer that.”
Jongin twirled mentioned pen between his fingers, a wide, exuberant smile adorning his face. “His effort is commendable, don’t you think?”
Jongdae threw his hands up in defeat. “Lovesick fool.”
Anyone familiar with Jongin had witnessed his inhuman ability of forgetting and misplacing his belongings at least once. Jongin himself couldn’t explain the phenomenon, but after testing tempers and exasperating even the most patient of individuals, he exerted conscious effort in keeping track of his possessions. He hadn’t heard a single complaint from Sehun, so far, though guilt nagged at Jongin’s conscience for the continuous episodes.
“Jongdae-hyung said in the past only saints could put up with me. Don’t you find my carelessness irritating?” Jongin brought up on their impromptu stroll by the Han River. Moving around was needed after a mini contest on who could demolish the most meat platters in the shortest possible time.
“No, but Grandpa would laugh at you if he found out.” Sehun’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Would you like to swap memory retention abilities with him?”
Jongin squinted at him, feigning offense. “Are you calling me old?”
Sehun patted his cheek with a mock patronizing nod. “Careful; your blood pressure will skyrocket.” At Jongin’s indignant “Hey!” and light shove of his shoulder, he said, serious this time, “What’s not to like about seeing you more than once?”
“Now you’re buttering me up after the initial insult? How sly.”
“Is it working?” Sehun clasped their hands together, unperturbed.
The slow stretch of a breathtaking smile on Sehun’s face radiated warmth through Jongin’s chest in silent admission.
Zhang Yixing was a dimpled, mild-mannered man whose dazed appearance betrayed nothing about his personality. He lacked the demeanor of a hip-hop instructor and a dance school owner, and didn’t look like the type who’d be friends with someone as explosive as Sehun. A dance convention back in Sehun’s college days resulted in the crossing of their paths, transcending into a friendship beyond language lessons and other common interests. Years of residing in Seoul couldn’t fully erase his accent, but it didn’t deter Yixing from communicating. In times of forgotten words, Yixing switched to Mandarin, and Sehun would translate.
“Yixing-hyung sure is amazing achieving his dreams before hitting thirty,” Jongin remarked after finishing warm-ups.
Sehun connected his iPod to the speakers and scrolled down his playlist. “He works too hard sometimes, it’s worrying. I want him to find a good person. I hope it’s his soul mate and they meet soon.”
Jongin opened his mouth but clamped it shut just the same. The way Sehun spoke of Yixing implied the depth of his care for him, discouraging him from imparting the knowledge of the ominous black ring he saw on Yixing’s right pinky. Jongin swallowed a contemptuous smirk. He didn’t understand fate and its decisions sometimes. Kind people didn’t deserve to be fateless.
“Ready to be blown away?” Sehun’s question cut through his musings.
Jongin screwed his face in fake scorn. “Show me what you’ve got.”
They agreed holding a showdown was impossible if they haven’t seen each other’s dancing skills, so they’d treat today as an introduction. Sehun danced the moment the song came on, body moving in sync to the powerful beat. Jongin’s eyes followed his every action, alternating between the mirror and Sehun himself, but a provocative body roll topped with an electrifying stare ignited a sensual fire within.
Jongin returned the favor through his performance. He tossed flirtatious looks over his shoulder and timed his lip-biting for full effect. He delighted in Sehun’s eyes raking over his form, the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip spurring him on. Jongin danced his way toward him and impishly trailed his fingers down his chest.
Sehun captured his wrists in a flash, growling low in his throat. “Are you seducing me?”
Jongin leaned forward without breaking eye contact. Their lips a hairsbreadth away, he whispered, cocksure, “Is it working?”
“So what’s the deal between you and Sehun?”
Jongin returned from escorting the last client out to Jongdae’s question. He didn’t answer right away, opting for sinking into the comfort of his office chair first with a contented purr. After a minute gone by through closed eyes, he reopened them to two choco pie packs and Jongdae standing in front of his table, arms akimbo.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Jongin asked, opening a pack.
“You’ve been dating for three months. Technically, no one is exclusive unless they find their soul mate, but what if he does?”
“We stop seeing each other,” Jongin said, like a fact he’d known for a long time. “It’s happened before; I don’t see why he’s an exception.”
Jongdae studied him-critical, skeptical. “Do you think this will be similar to the other times?” His question came off more as a genuine inquiry than an actual challenge.
“Maybe,” came Jongin’s slow admittance.
A meaningful pause. “What if you can’t give him up even if he gets a string and finds his soul mate?”
The concern behind the question wasn’t missed. Beyond the professional employer-employee relationship, they treated each other like brothers from different mothers; thus, Jongin confided in Jongdae the more intimate details of his relationships past and present. Jongin was also well aware Jongdae never asked empty questions. Although he couldn’t answer in the end, it rooted itself to the corridors of his mind, badgering him with its endless echoes.
And it echoed louder every time Sehun popped up during lunch breaks even if he had nothing to return; every time Sehun insisted on accompanying him home on nights the exhaustion from Snipping overpowered him; every time Sehun pressed a reverent kiss to his forehead and tightened his hold around him, both bare of clothing but ensconced in their combined body heat.
Under the treacherous summer heat, they spent Sunday in Yeouido Hangang Park and played with the zeal and energy of kindergarteners in the Waterside Fountains. Jongin should’ve known better than believing Sehun’s innocent request of checking it out. Sehun wasted no time in bending down and splashed water on him. Jongin declared war, except nobody won in their equally-soused states. Sehun took responsibility by ordering his favorite chicken and picnicked by the riverside.
“What will you do when you meet your soul mate?”
Sehun chewed first before replying, honesty seeping through his words, “I don’t know. I might scare them away with my eyebrows, or presume frowning is my specialty. I’ve imagined countless scenarios, but there’s no guarantee if any of them will happen.”
“Fair point,” Jongin conceded.
Sehun picked up a drumstick using his chopsticks. “And you? You’ve never shared your thoughts about soul mates.” He blinked twice. “Come to think of it, I don’t know if you have a red string. Oh, who am I kidding? You’re a Fatemaster-of course you have one.”
Jongin’s eyes flitted over his bare pinkies, mouth twitching into a wry smile.
“I don’t believe in soul mates. I only believe in love.”
Jongin waited for a jeer or a joke. Neither came.
Sehun whistled low and rubbed his nape, not speaking up right away. “I won’t lie, I don’t know who they are, but I’m already envious of the person fate has decided for you.” He chuckled, albeit unnatural-sounding-or, perhaps, only Jongin interpreted it as such.
Without warning, Sehun rose to his feet, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Soul mate, stop taking detours and come meet me already! If not, you’ll lose me to Jongin!”
Jongin gawked at him, heat spreading across his cheeks. Lacking a proper reaction, he opted for laughing it off, high-pitched and embarrassed, though it couldn’t extinguish the dread burning in his chest set off by the mere thought of parting ways in the future.
Quarter past six on a Friday evening, Jongin hovered near Megabox’s entrance, hands shoved into his jeans pockets and eyes peeled open for Sehun. Tired of standing without doing anything, he whipped out his phone and picked a random game. Devising tactics for a virtual battle served as great distraction from the nagging unease following him like a stubborn ghost since Sehun’s no-show during lunchtime. Granted, Sehun had texted him an explanation of his absence, except it did little in subduing the stirring unrest.
Sehun turned up after an additional ten-minute wait. Jongin spotted him at once and waved an arm in the air, his face breaking out in a huge smile. It slipped off inch by inch, however, at the sight of a thin, red string looped around Sehun’s left pinky.
“You have a red string,” Jongin stated, once Sehun was within arm’s reach. Numbness enveloped him in its ice-cold embrace.
Sehun beamed. “I felt a slight pinch on the bus ride here. I couldn’t believe it at first-I thought I was hallucinating.” He eyed his string in obvious captivation and touched it. His finger passed through. “So this is what it looks like…”
The heaviness in Jongin’s chest intensified. He clenched his hands into tight fists. “You’re halfway to meeting your soul mate.”
Sehun met his eyes, hesitating for a heartbeat before nodding. “It’s a good thing, isn’t it?” He flicked his hand twice and the string followed the movement akin to an undulating wave. “Say, you think I’ll find my soul mate if I follow the string?”
Jongin laughed in spite of himself. “I’ve never heard of anyone act on the idea, even if it had crossed their minds.”
Sehun grasped his hand. “Have you checked what’s showing?” He jerked his head toward the posters on display.
Jongin stared down at their joined hands. A storm of emotions brewed within. He would’ve enjoyed the warmth of Sehun’s hand and the firmness of his grip more had this happened before the birth of the red string. Now the same warmth scorched his skin, the same grip like a direct squeeze to the heart.
And yet, Jongin couldn’t stop wanting to hold this hand that fit his own so well.
Tickets purchased, Sehun released Jongin’s hand to take his phone. Jongin seized it back in lightning speed, weaving their fingers together.
Sehun lifted questioning eyes at him but didn’t repeat the action. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong as long as I’m holding your hand.”
Sehun’s should’ve been immune to his random bursts of sappiness by now, but his speechless state and flushed cheeks said otherwise. He pinched Jongin’s nose once recovered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jongin allowed himself a feeble smile. He tightened his hold on Sehun’s hand.
Breaking up was easy.
Jongin followed a strict, uncomplicated rule in terms of dating. He’d have his fun for as long as the relationship lasted, but if it ran its course or his partner had found their soul mate, they would part ways-no questions asked. Most of them didn’t understand why-and, to a lesser extent, argued with him about it-but complied in the end.
He’d seen so many openings to drop the bomb on Sehun; thrown so many opportunities to break his heart. The urge doubled whenever he caught a glimpse of his red string; yet every time he prepared to spill the words, Sehun quelled them with an arm around his shoulders if he wanted him closer, the lightest brush of his fingers against his cheek, or stolen kisses during a movie’s boring bits.
Breaking up should be easy.
Jongin had done it numerous times-no matter how much he adored the other person, no matter how compatible. Heartbreak was as inevitable as it was a natural part of life, and though some experiences hurt more than others, he won against the pain and sadness by sheer determination.
The damned string should be reason enough. More than reason enough. It was the top deal-breaker for Jongin in any relationship; yet every time he gathered the courage, Sehun kissed him a little deeper, held him a little tighter, loved him a little harder. It obliterated Jongin’s steel resolve and left him vulnerable in his hands.
Breaking up never posed as a problem for Jongin before, but Sehun’s whirlwind arrival wrenched him away from his rigid principles and spared not a single vestige of their existence. In its place bloomed yearning, raw and untamed and all-consuming; sparked the rebirth of reluctance, an old friend he hadn’t acquainted himself with for the longest time; and the age-old mind and heart battle, where only one could prevail.
A hardbound copy of Les Thanatonautes fell from Jongin’s hand, landing on the floor with a resounding thud. His ears rang at the unwelcome reverberation, and he glowered at his right pinky. The finger had been hurting in the past few days, pinpricks of pain first circling the base before morphing into a paralyzing throb. It annoyed him enough he couldn’t come up with an explanation for this, but the unpredictable timing of its attacks was a whole new level of frustration.
Jongdae emerged from the storage room and passed by the aisle Jongin stood in. One look and a cloud of understanding moved across his face. “You should have it checked. It’s the only way to confirm if it is or isn’t a medical condition.”
Jongin took several deep breaths, willing for the pain to subside. “It’s bearable.”
“Says the person who acts like he’s dying when he gets a paper cut.”
Jongin hit him on the shoulder in embarrassment. Jongdae reciprocated and cackled at his whining.
Over takeout dinner that evening in Jongin’s apartment, Sehun asked, “When were you going to tell me about your finger pain?”
Jongin almost spat out his drink all over the table. “Who told you?” He groaned. “It was Jongdae-hyung, wasn’t it?”
Sehun’s brows met in the middle. “Why is it hurting? Is it serious? Do you need a specialist?” he asked, as if he didn’t hear Jongin.
“I don’t know; no; and no. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it. I’m serious. Now, smile, ₩100. I like you better when you do.” Jongin reached across the table with the intention of ruffling Sehun’s hair, but the sudden jolt of pain in his pinky stopped him. He wasn’t fast enough in hiding his discomfort, or biting back a yelp.
Sehun rushed over to his side. He gingerly held Jongin’s hand, frown deepening. “Next time, don’t hide it from me. I don’t care if you think it’s trivial. Tell me.” He rubbed soothing up and down motions on his pinky with the pad of his thumb, gaze softening as he asked, “Better?”
Either Sehun’s touch had healing properties, or the pleasant swelling in Jongin’s chest caused by the visible concern on his features deluded him into thinking this, but the pain receded by a considerable amount.
“Was your string red from birth, or was it conditional like mine?”
“The first one, but it disappeared.”
“That happens?” Sehun asked, incredulous.
Jongin couldn’t help a tiny smile. “It didn’t disappear in a flash. After my Sight acquisition, I began helping out my grandfather during his Snipping sessions. Three years into the business, the customers’ hypocrisies shattered the fantasy behind the so-called absolute power of fate. The disappointments piled on till my string vanished. My grandfather consulted other Fatemasters, but no one could offer a solution or an answer”
“Sounds like the back story of a shounen manga protagonist.”
Jongin snorted and pushed Sehun’s forehead with his forefinger as if to scold.
Sehun continued his ministrations in the ensuing silence. “Don’t you want your string back?”
Jongin shrugged. “It makes no difference whether I have it or not. I would rather choose who I’ll spend my life with than depend on a mystical string to tell me who is or isn’t the right person.”
“I’m so flattered you love me this much.” Sehun nodded in approval.
Jongin huffed but didn’t disagree. He wiggled his hand out of Sehun’s grasp, the pain in his pinky long gone. At Sehun’s worried look, he assured, “My finger’s okay now. Thank you.”
“I can think of other ways you can thank me.”
Before Jongin could lecture him on timing his innuendos better, Sehun reclaimed his hand and linked their pinkies. “Holding hands isn’t bad, but this is nice, too,” he said, a childish grin lighting up his face. “They fit perfectly together, too-like it’s meant to be.”
Although he smiled in acknowledgment, Jongin’s heart twinged at the thought of Sehun linking pinkies with someone else. The pain in his pinky roused and bit back with a vengeance.
“Seriously, Jongin, if your ancestors had encountered such an occurrence, don’t you think they would’ve recorded it? We’ve already leafed through these journals many times but still have no answers.” Jongdae set one aside and opened another.
“Just keep looking, hyung,” Jongin said without raising his head. He turned page after page, skimming their contents but constantly emerged empty-handed. The pain hadn’t stopped its intermittent assaults on his pinky, but the bigger question was why it dwindled if his mind focused anything Sehun-related.
“What are we even looking for? The answer to being in love?” Jongdae retorted, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know about pinkies hurting, but have you not considered maybe your string is growing back?”
Jongin’s hand froze. He whipped his head toward Jongdae so fast he nearly pulled a neck muscle.
Taken aback at Jongin’s reaction, Jongdae continued, “You cut strings and they grow back after a month. Yours vanished many years ago, and maybe you’re a unique case, but have you never considered the possibility it could return?”
Jongin opened and closed his mouth but produced no reply. Missing key pieces clicked into place, and though the picture was far from complete, what bits and pieces he could see added up.
He smacked his forehead for not realizing it sooner, though. “You could be on to something, hyung.”
Jongdae wore a smug look. “And here I thought you were the smarter one between us.” Jongin laughed at the joke. “Now, the question is: why is it happening now? Do you think…?”
Jongin raised his right pinky and stared, contemplative. Despite trailing off on purpose, he knew what Jongdae wanted to ask. The possibility was huge. He just wasn’t sure if he could believe in it.
Pain relief came in the form of a gleaming pink ring after several days later.
Jongin broke the news to Sehun in the middle of their movie-watching. Sehun lifted his head off of his chest to look at him, expressionless face unnerving him. Not even the noises coming from the movie could drown out the deafening silence, or soothe Jongin’s nerves.
“What now?”
Jongin blinked several times, as if not believing the one-sentence response, much less it coming from Sehun. “You know a pink ring can end two ways-”
“That’s not what I meant,” Sehun interrupted. “Does your pink ring change things?”
Jongin’s face creased in confusion. Gradual understanding smoothed it out when the implication behind Sehun’s words sank in. He ignored the lump forming in his throat, and said, in a voice barely above a whisper, “If you’re asking for freedom-”
“Again, that’s not what I meant-”
“What, then?” Jongin snapped, raising his voice. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not asking for a breakup,” Sehun spoke in his softest, gentlest voice Jongin had heard from him. He held both of Jongin’s hands with profound tenderness, eyes downcast. “I’m hurt you think I’d want one, though.”
“It will happen sooner or later, anyway,” Jongin muttered with conviction, albeit forced.
“We are not breaking up,” Sehun insisted, the calmness and resolution in his tone never wavering. “I believe in soul mates. Still do. But a soul mate doesn’t necessarily have to be the person you share a string with. It can be someone else. Someone you develop a strong connection with. Someone you can’t bear being apart from for even a day. Someone you see not only in your dreams but in your future, too.”
Sehun released Jongin’s hands and framed his face between his palms. Their lips met in a long, slow, searching kiss. He looked straight into his eyes after pulling apart. “I don’t care if our strings will lead us to different people in the future. You are my soul mate. Only you.”
Jongin bit his lower lip, eyes brimming with joyful tears. His forehead fell against Sehun’s shoulder. “You better keep you word, or else.”
One shared laugh, and Jongin raised his head so he could kiss Sehun once more.
The future remained uncertain, but for tonight, as they shed their clothes along with their doubts, bodies melding into one, they existed in a world where nothing threatened to tear them apart.
Business on Wednesday morning started slow, but the entrance of the third customer shook things up in The Hidden Nook. Jongin noticed him straightaway from behind a bookshelf in the History section, but it was Jongdae who approached with a genial smile. Jongdae stopped halfway with a loud cry of surprise, pointing a shaky finger at the customer’s right pinky. Tied around it was a red string directly linked to Jongdae’s.
The customer grinned, waving his pinky. “Hey, soul mate. Nice to finally meet you.”
Jongdae grabbed the first object from the display stand-a paperback edition of Cinder-and hurled it at him. His soul mate ducked, the book flying over his head and hitting the wall.
“You fickle bastard!”
Times like these, Jongin thanked the higher forces he wasn’t the target of Jongdae’s accurate aim. Jongdae’s chest heaved in an attempt at calming his rage. His soul mate’s grin remained plastered on and even laughed it off, warning Jongdae in a singsong voice he shouldn’t be rash, though Jongin noticed a slight tremble in their knees.
He introduced himself as Byun Baekhyun, a rising star in the musical world and one of Jongin’s regular Snipping clients. The only reason they never crossed paths until now was because Baekhyun’s appointments always coincided with Jongdae’s absences.
“And? Are you expecting me to gush about fate’s mysterious ways in bringing us together or some similar shit?”
“God, don’t be so hostile.” Baekhyun blew out an impatient sigh, but the tinge of nervousness in his voice was discernible. “Yeah, I know the constant cutting doesn’t paint me in a good light. I’d detest me, too, if I was in your place.”
“‘Detest’ doesn’t even cut it!”
“Work with me here, okay? Arguing with my soul mate is not how I imagined our first meeting would go!”
Five minutes of verbal matches and three tries at placating later, Baekhyun asked Jongdae out for coffee after work. Jongdae’s annoyance hadn’t abated but grunted in assent.
“He seems like a nice guy, indecisiveness aside,” Jongin remarked after Baekhyun’s departure, loud enough for Jongdae to hear.
Jongdae’s face turned dour, stuffing the slip of paper with Baekhyun’s contact details inside his back pocket. “Nothing’s proven until he explains himself.” He expelled a big, deep sigh. “Better wish your soul mate won’t turn out like Byun Baekhyun, whoever they are.”
Jongin’s pink ring had turned red a week ago, followed by the complete restoration of his string and the steady, insistent tugging on his right pinky. Apprehension filled him as he wondered how he’d tell Sehun and his plausible reaction, given it happened on the day he flew out to Jeju for work, but a part of him clutched onto the expectation he’d honor the promise of standing by each other.
The rest of the day breezed by without any more unusual happenings. Come seven in the evening, everybody had left, save for Jongin who stayed behind reading the latest Higashino Keigo novel in the second floor. He nearly committed the mistake of ignoring his ringing phone in favor of starting a new chapter had he not seen Sehun’s name flashing on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Miss me?” Sehun asked, teasing but with a seriousness behind it.
“No one’s here to return or keep tabs on my lost items, so yes.” Jongin reveled in the rich sound of Sehun’s laughter. “How was your day?”
“I’m back in Seoul.”-Jongin perked up-“We finished a day early, but I might return next week depending on the client’s request. Are you still at the bookshop? I’m on my way.”
“Hurry up, then; I need nourishment.” Sehun laughed harder, and Jongin’s smile grew fonder. Breathless, lighthearted, and just a little more in love, he added, “And yes-yes, I miss you.”
The bell above the door jingled. Jongin dashed down the stairs in breakneck speed while still on the phone, heart beating in a staccato rhythm against his chest. Several paces away stood Sehun with a suitcase in tow, phone still pressed to his ear, mouth twisted in happiness. Jongin stepped forward but stopped. The arm holding the phone fell slowly to his side in shock.
Sehun’s string stretched tight between them and connected to his, thick and shimmering bright red.