honey

It’s not very often that Jungwon does something unexpected, something impulsive. Maybe you could count when he auditioned to become an idol or when he entered a survival show in his desperate bid to debut. But honestly after that, everything in Jungwon’s life was and has been meticulously planned right down to the shoes he wears. 

So, when he finds himself sitting in the waiting room of a twenty-four hour pet hospital at three in the morning, it’s safe to say that this is quite literally the most impulsive thing he’s ever done in the twenty-two years he’s been on this earth. 

He watches you at the front desk as you speak to the receptionist, a deep crease in your brow, nose still stuffy from the cold (and possibly from your little breakdown), cheeks dusted a sweet pink that makes his own warm and his heart thud a little harder at the observation. 

He doesn’t know what came over him when he offered to show you to the clinic he mentioned earlier. And he certainly has no idea what came over him when he took a seat and insisted he stay until Cat Jungwon has been seen by the veterinarian, until he knows that Cat Jungwon is safe and sound.

Jungwon continues to watch as you fly by the procedures, filling in forms and answering every question the receptionist throws at you. It’s not long before Cat Jungwon is placed on what he assumes is the animal version of a gurney and is whisked away to see the doctor with you trailing along closely.

All of a sudden, he is left in a deafening silence, the waiting room now void of any form of life aside from him. Now alone, Jungwon releases the tension he didn’t know he was holding in his body, feeling his body soften and his back meld to the chair beneath him—like butter in a warm pan. And with nothing else to do, he looks out the window to the empty, dimly lit street outside.

After all the chaos that has ensued over the past half an hour, Jungwon welcomes the tranquil silence with open arms, reminding him that this was the entire purpose of his walk—peace and quiet. With his heartbeat slowing, he can feel a dull throbbing behind his eyes, suddenly made aware of just how tired he is—a tiredness that has seeped through his skin and into his bones, one that he tries but can’t quite get rid of with just sleep. 

The distant murmurs behind the doors of the doctor’s room bring him an uncanny comfort, acting as white noise, like the sound of rain or crashing waves against the shore as he begins to nod off. He fails a few times, jerking awake when his head grows too heavy and falls, and every time, he adjusts his position, until he finds the perfect position, the perfect state of equilibrium for him to take a short nap that he believes he deserves.

Except, his phone begins buzzing menacingly in his pocket, ripping him from that perfect limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness, and Jungwon can feel anger bubbling deep inside his chest as his eyes snap open and he blows his bangs out of his eyes in frustration. 

He doesn’t even bother checking the caller ID before he is petulantly grunting out a grumpy, “What?” into the phone.

“That’s hyung to you,” Jay admonishes from the other side of the phone. His voice is coarse and low, and Jungwon already knows that he has probably been shaken awake by their frantic manager whose calls Jungwon has been declining for the past few hours. 

“What, Hyung?” Jungwon, ever the obedient younger brother, replies pointedly, making sure to enunciate the word just for Jay. He snickers quietly when he hears Jay click his tongue in annoyance, but no matter how annoyed Jay may be at Jungwon, he somehow always remains patient, evident in the way he sighs and simply lets Jungwon’s attitude slide in favour of asking, “Where the hell are you?”

Jungwon ponders for a while, split between brushing off the question and answering truthfully. He supposes there is no harm in telling Jay where he is. The only thing discouraging him from doing so is just how tedious and annoying it would be to have to explain everything to him now. All Jungwon wants to do is to sit in silence and not talk so that he can save energy to talk to you. 

He pauses at that thought, goes over it again in his head, and deduces that he really needs to get some sleep. The brain fog must be really getting to him if he’s thinking these things about someone he’s just met. 

It’s not to say that he didn’t enjoy the casual conversation the two of you had during the walk to the vet. Albeit short-lived, it was inexplicably pleasant and Jungwon had decided he liked the cadence of your voice and the way your mouth wrapped around your words. So, he supposes he does want to talk to you more, but it’s just because he’s curious and wants to learn more about you. Yeah, that had to be the reason behind that thought. Definitely not because he likes the way your mouth curves into that shy smile and definitely not because of the way you looked when you cuddled your face against Cat Jungwon in the most adorable way as the two of you walked. Right, definitely not because of that.

“Hello?”

Jungwon is dragged back to reality by Jay’s irritated tone and he realises he’d drifted off. Damn that brain fog.

“Right, sorry,” he starts, then pauses because while lost in that brain fog, he’d forgotten to decide if he was going to tell Jay his whereabouts… Screw it.

“I’m at a vet near the Han River.” 

A silence stretches out as Jungwon’s words process in Jay’s sleep-addled brain, the gears working hard to get his brain going when all he wants to do is not deal with this and go back to sleep. 

Jay lets out a sigh heavy with the burden of being one of the oldest of the group. He knows Jungwon is an adult and that he can do whatever he wants, but sometimes, Jay wishes that he would be a little less stubborn and petulant. He hates having to parent Jungwon, and he knows Jungwon hates it too, but he’s too responsible to let this go. So, he sits up, puts on his hyung hat, and puts his foot down. 

“Look, I don’t know why the hell you’re at a vet near the Han River at three in the goddamn morning, but the least you could do is answer Yuki hyung,” Jay says sternly. “I know you’re having a hard time and you want your peace and quiet, but we have all been worried sick, I mean, who knows where you could have been?”

Jungwon feels a pang of guilt in his chest. Out of habit, his front teeth sink into the plush flesh of his bottom lip to prevent his frantic apologies from slipping out, lest he interrupt Jay and incite more of his frustration.

“I’m sorry, Jay hyung.”

“Yeah, I know. But really, what’s gotten into you? It’s not like you to disappear like this. I swear Yuki hyung damn near called the police…”

Jay’s nagging fades into the background as the door to the doctor’s room swings open, startling Jungwon slightly. With his phone to his ear, he looks up to see you with Cat Jungwon in your arms, little leg bandaged up neatly, and the sweetest, warmest smile on your face. 

If Jay’s nagging didn’t wake Jungwon up, the sight of you sure did. All sleep and any sign of fatigue have been washed away with the sight of your refreshing smile and the sound of your angelic voice as you call out to Jungwon.

“Hey! Jungwon’s all good. The doctor gave him some antibiotics and this cutie took it like a champ. Such a good boy, Jungwon,” you report to Human Jungwon, cooing and praising Cat Jungwon like he’d survived some sort of vicious attack, as opposed to the reality of him just getting stuck beneath a bunch of branches like an idiot. 

Well, if there’s one (other) thing Jungwon and that cat have in common, it’s the fact that they’re both idiots, because all Jungwon can do right now is smile up at you dopily as you lovingly praise and pet your cat for doing what Jungwon deems as the bare minimum. Jungwon thinks that if he had you cheering him on in the adorable way you’re doing so right now, he could deal with this whole career crisis he was lamenting about earlier. Jungwon also thinks he really needs to sleep.

Jungwon is once again pulled from his stupor when you gasp softly, worried gaze flickering between him and his phone that he doesn’t remember abandoning on the seat beside him. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were on a call,” you apologise sweetly, gaze so warm and apologetic that Jungwon feels his heart lurch in his chest, feeling like melting candlewax as you continue to look at him. But then, he can roughly make out Jay’s muffled voice as he repeatedly calls out Jungwon’s name, tone growing in volume and agitation.  

As his eyes widen and he scrambles to pick up the phone, Jungwon realises that he’s done for. Jay had already been upset over Jungwon’s uncharacteristic irresponsibility, and now it probably looked like he had ignored his lecturing entirely.

“Hyung—” Jungwon answers, but he is cut off and met with a barrage of insults from a now fully pissed off Jay. Jungwon winces and glances up hesitantly at you, your worried gaze still on him as he gets cussed out. 

“You damn brat, where did you go? I’ve been calling you for two minutes! Did you even hear a word of what I said?” 

“Yes, Hyung. I’m sorry, I’ll be back soon. I gotta go. Bye,” Jungwon says quietly and quickly as he turns from your gaze in utter embarrassment. But Jungwon doesn’t quite know how bad this situation can get, because in his hurried bid to hang up the phone, he presses the one button that he shouldn’t have. And it feels exactly like Pandora’s Box, where the forbidden box has been opened and all the horrible things are now coming into the world.

“Yang Jungwon, don’t you dare hang up on me,” Jay warns as his voice blasts through the silent and empty waiting room. Jungwon freezes in place, utterly unsure what on earth he should do. He feels his neck and ears turn red, flushing all the way down to his chest in embarrassment, like he’s been stripped naked and laid bare for you and your damn cat to see. 

To make matters worse, Cat Jungwon meows in response to the call of Jungwon’s name, and he wants the ground to swallow him whole, or he wants to run away, or for time to turn back to just a minute ago when everything was perfect and you were singing him (Cat Jungwon) praises and he was admiring your sweet smile. 

Jungwon watches as your expression morphs through the different thoughts running through your head, from confusion, to doubt, to realisation all in the matter of milliseconds. And when you open your mouth to say something, Jungwon groans and promptly hangs up his call with Jay, springing to his feet as he inches his way towards the exit.

“I think I should probably head back now—”

“Waittt…… Is your name Jungwon too?” you interrupt, completely ignoring his attempt at an escape, grin amused as you hold back your laughter. 

Jungwon somehow flushes redder at your words, and if this were any other situation, he would be caught up on the downright adorable smile you’re giving him. But right now, all Jungwon can do is groan in embarrassment and bury his face in his hands as your laughter finally spills free at the absurdity of the situation. 

Jungwon is absolutely unsure of what he can even do to rectify this situation, to rectify your view of him that has been completely shattered all thanks to his slippery fingers and Jay. But he's not even able to get a word in because Jay is calling him again, and the receptionist calls for you to collect Cat Jungwon’s medication. 

Jungwon shifts his gaze from his ringing phone to you and feels all the wind in his lungs rush out when his gaze meets your own, eyes curled as you calm down from your laughter to level him with a gaze that he can only describe as fond. 

“Sorry,” you start, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious from laughing by yourself, worried that you might have taken things too far and offended Jungwon. He looks torn, and you can only assume that it’s because of the ringing phone in his hand and the promise he made to stay. And though you’ve thoroughly enjoyed his company so far, you would hate to be the cause for more trouble in his life, especially not when he’s been nothing but helpful and sweet and an absolute angel in your time of need. So, you make his decision for him.

“I guess you should go…” you trail off. You clutch Cat Jungwon close to you when Jungwon levels you with an apologetic grin, dimples boring attractively in his cheeks, gaze so warm you feel the heat crawl up the sides of your neck. 

“Yeah, I think I should…” Jungwon agrees. And just like that, he gives you a bashful wave before turning around and exiting the clinic, immediately shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as the winter breeze settles back into his skin. 

You watch his back as he slowly disappears into the dimly lit street, suddenly overwhelmed by the quiet that has settled after all the hustle and bustle of the night, only averting your gaze and turning around when the receptionist calls your name in a significantly more agitated tone than before.

You resolve in your head that you’re probably never going to see Jungwon again, and that you’ll probably be reminded of him every time you see your cat, slowly forcing yourself to come to terms with the fact that this unexpected encounter was just that, and nothing more.

But it seems that Jungwon has other plans, because he comes running back into the clinic with a newfound determination, gaze set solely on you. The sound of the bell ringing and the door swinging open startles you, but your heart soars in expectation when you turn around and see the adorable dimpled man walking up to you, cheeks blushed pink and eyes sparkling in the fluorescent clinic lights. 

“Can I have your number…?” Jungwon says breathlessly and hesitantly when he comes to a stop before you. He feels his confidence deplete with every second that your honeyed gaze is on him, until he finally backpedals.

“I want to know how… Cat Jungwon is recovering,” he excuses, bashedly rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat as he anticipates your response. He really has never done anything like this before.

“Of course,” you say as reservedly as you can. 

It starts out like this: the sun in your eyes, salt water splashing you and all around you. When you look down, you realise you have your hands on a silver steering wheel, and when you finally look all around you, you realise that you are in open waters, steering a speedboat to who knows where. 

A medium-sized ship comes into view and you assume that is your destination as you gradually slow down, easing up to park your significantly smaller boat parallel to the ship. You pack as much gear as you can onto your body — guns, batons, other weapons that you can barely recognise — before you infiltrate the vessel, climbing up with an ease you’re sure you didn’t possess yesterday. 

You comb the vessel, unsure who or what you’re looking for, clearing the ship of bad guys by taking them out with ease. You somehow, mysteriously seem to have the entire layout of the ship memorised, passing through hallways that look impossibly identical and turning corners with such confidence, one would think you built the ship yourself.

It continues like this for a while, like an epic action montage from a video game or a superhero movie, taking out who you assume to be bad guys with your ingenious set of weaponry, world-class martial art skills you have somehow acquired, and brilliant reflexes that you don’t remember developing. 

Until you reach a door.

You pause to roll your eyes at the door which has been cliche-ly marked with a red cross, as if the bad guys have never heard of ‘x’ marks the spot in their entire lives of being a bad guy. Then, you kick down the door. 

Like a final boss in a game, you duel the biggest, most sinister-looking bad guy of all the bad guys, hitting him with all the combos, all the weapons, putting your hundred percent into defeating the perpetrator of this crime that you have yet to know of.

Final Boss Bad Guy lands a right hook to the side of your jaw, sending you off balance as you land hard on your chest. The wind is knocked right out of your lungs and you can feel the punch throbbing in your temples and the meat of your jaw, your muscles echoing the punch like a bell after it’s been struck. Your recovery is slow, still reeling from where it stings, your vision a little blurry when you see it.

The boot of a man, connected to long legs, to a slim waist, to broad shoulders, to a lithe neck, and finally, to an angelic face. His arms are tied behind his back, his mouth taped with duct tape that you’re sure will sting later, and his eyes. They stare at you with an emotion you don’t think you’ve ever felt to this degree before — part fear, part desperation. 

For a moment, you’re stunned, utterly unsure what to think of such a gaze. No one’s ever looked at you like that and you feel a sort of determination take over you. Maybe it’s the adrenaline kicking in, or maybe it’s the instinctual nature of being the strong one in this situation, wanting, needing to protect this man who seems to have found himself in the worst situation imaginable to man. 

His round eyes widen in horror, but you react swiftly at his warning, dodging the sly attack of Final Boss Bad Guy, before taking advantage of his failed attack to land a similar blow to the one he got you with earlier. When Final Boss Bad Guy lands in the same position you were in, you can’t help but smirk in satisfaction. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

In his incapacitated state, you land one final blow, knocking the big guy clean out, and securing your victory in this long fought battle. You let out a sigh of relief, finally letting the exhaustion from endless fighting take over you as you collapse to the floor in front of the hostage.

You take a moment to rest, but then, you hear muffled sounds and look up to see the man seemingly rid of all his trepidation, as he desperately gestures as best as he can to either the tape on his mouth or the ropes that bind his hands. Geez, some people are so impatient. 

You let out a sigh, but take compassion on him anyway, crawling your way across the (probably gross) ship floor, to kneel in front of him, hand coming up to his face to peel the tape off his face first. You pluck at the corner of the tape, unable to get enough leverage for your fingertips to get underneath to take it off completely. Kidnapped Man lets out a muffled yelp of pain, jerking his face away from your hand just as you were about to get the right amount of tape to rip it off. He whips his head back to level you with a pointed glare and a disapproving look. 

You click your tongue in slight annoyance, reaching back to the flap of tape near his jaw, but he avoids your hand, letting out sounds of protests that you know are supposed to be words and gesturing to something that goes above your head. When you reach out to try again, he does the same thing, and you feel a blood vessel pop in your head. 

“Stay still!” you exclaim, gripping his chin with your free hand and turning his head to face you so that he can no longer escape your reach. He makes an effort to protest, but it’s too late, and you’re ripping the tape off his face with a decisive rip. Kidnapped Man lets out a strangled sound of pain, eyes shut tightly as he attempts to steady his breathing to let the pain pass. You slowly retreat your hand from his jaw.

“Why didn’t you just untie my hands first?!” he exclaims once the pain has subsided, eyes shooting knives into your being, hands still bound behind his back, red marks forming on his mouth from where the tape ripped off. Seeing his face in all its entirety, you wonder if the reason behind his kidnapping was because of his sheer beauty. His round eyes are accompanied by a tall nose, high cheekbones, and a pert mouth. And as he recovers from the tape incident, he checks the movement of his mouth and you delight as you observe a dimple dig deeply into the middle of his left cheek. 

“Well, are you gonna untie me?” he demands with a frown. Though he isn’t yelling at you, you feel your eyebrow twitch in irritation at the authoritative, expectant look he gives you. You suppose you are supposed to save him, but geez, would it kill him to be at least a little bit grateful?

When Kidnapped Man raises an amused eyebrow is when you realise you’ve said it out loud.

The two of you stare at each other for a while, unsure of what to say next. So, instead, you awkwardly clear your throat and lean in to reach behind Kidnapped Man and untie his binds. And with his hands free, he moves to graze his fingertips over the affected area on his face and hands, grimacing in pain at a particularly bad part of his wrist that the rope seemed to have rubbed raw. 

“Well…” you trail off, glancing around the room to see the disarray you left in your wake. Your eyes land on Final Boss lying in what looks like to be an extremely uncomfortable position, wincing when you remember waking up from a similar position with a sore neck that lasted for days.

”I guess we should get going,” you suggest, standing to your feet to survey the area for any other threats, before turning back to Kidnapped Man. “Are there any other hostages?”

When he shakes his head, you sigh in relief. You do not think you could go through all of that again.

With that, the two of you make your way back to the entrance where your boat is parked, somehow finding your way back through winding hallways and a million twists and turns. As you near the exit, Kidnapped Man speaks up. 

“I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful, you know.” He quickens his pace to walk in step with you, peeking at you out of his periphery to gauge your reaction to his words. You hum in acknowledgement, mind preoccupied with navigating the maze that is this ship, and keeping yourself on high alert in case the two of you get ambushed. 

“I’m Jungwon, by the way,” he offers next, though it doesn’t pique your interest, earning him another hum of acknowledgement. Guess you’ll have to retire Kidnapped Man now. 

You heave a sigh of relief when the two of you finally make your way to sunlight, emerging from the backrooms of the ship to the main deck, and easily identifying the tie of a ribbon (that you do not remember tying), a signifier of where your boat is docked. You busy yourself with preparing the way so that Jungwon will be able to easily climb down into the boat, when he speaks again.

“Thank you for saving me,” he says, tone smooth, voice soft, earnest and sincere. You stop in your tracks, smile twitching at the corners of your mouth as you twirl around to see him smiling shyly, gaze averted. You can’t help the affection that ultimately tilts the corners of your lips up. 

“You’re very welcome.”

-

Nami walks in step with you as the two of you head off from school. Students bustle all around you, some late for class, some on the way home, some just simply passing through. Nami urges you to continue talking.

You laugh at her eagerness. “That’s it! It was all a crazy dream,” you conclude. Nami has a habit of walking into you when the two of you walk together, and the thought makes you smile. It’s funnier when she gets excited because all of a sudden, she forgets all concept of personal space and completely invades yours — not that you mind, but the thought is endearing all the same. 

“So, your brain just came up with this insanely attractive man and he turned out to be fake? You’re like catfishing yourself! Ughhhh, I wanna know what this guy looks like so badly!” Both of her arms flail around, gesturing wildly as she grows more and more excited, and she leans in closer to you with each word she speaks. 

“I’m sorry I can’t draw, if not you would already know what he looks like,” you reply with a laugh as she retracts her arm from your shoulders, sneering insincerely at you. 

“You know how to draw! You’re just too lazy to do it, aren’t you!” she accuses, curling her hand into a fist and holding it up threateningly at you. You let out another laugh as the two of you turn the corner and step into the cafe that you work at, neither confirming nor denying her accusations. While you are in fact too lazy to draw him, a teeny, tiny, selfish part of you wants Jungwon and all of his handsomeness to stay just yours. 

The conversation continues to flow as the two of you head behind the register, greeting your manager and preparing for your shift at the cafe. 

The shift goes about as normally as a shift should go: washing dishes, making drinks, clearing tables, taking orders. You’re working until closing so you watch as the day slows to a stop, watch as Nami heads off once her shift ends, watch as the flow of customers trickle to a few, before coming to a complete stop, watch as your manager hands the keys to you, bidding you farewell as you slowly close the shop like you have done the past three years of your university life. 

What isn’t normal, however, is the ringing of the bell above the door when it’s clearly stated that you’re closed for the day. Mop in hand, you sigh, lazily looking up to drone on that you’re closed, only for shoes to thud heavily through the door, as the person runs up to where you are behind the counter. 

At first, you think you’re done for. That someone is about to rob the store at gunpoint and that you’re about to be shot dead at a cafe that barely pays you. You shut your eyes tightly when hands slam against the counter, seemingly threatening you. 

“Please!” the person exclaims in desperation and you startle, opening your eyes at the desperation in his voice, and looking up to see two round eyes staring at you with an emotion you don’t think you’ve ever felt to this degree before — part fear, part desperation. 

Your body loosens, the mop dropping from between your hands as you try to process how on earth, Jungwon has seemingly come out from your dream to exist in real life. 

He leaves you no time to gawk in awe, however, exclaiming once again, “Please, I know this sounds crazy, but I’m being chased. Can I hide here?” 

Your brain is still trying to compute how on earth he looks identical to the dream version of him, tall nose, high cheeks, and all — broad shoulders looming over the counter as he leans over it in anticipation of your answer, hair dishevelled in the same way, strands slightly clumping together as sweat builds up on his forehead, causing them to stick to his skin. 

The sound of screams snatches you from your daze, and you’re pulled back to reality, right into Jungwon’s gaze, round eyes looking at you with that desperation, that earnestness that you thought only existed within your own mind. When Jungwon blinks, his gaze softens to more of a plea, and God, if he looks at you like that, how could you possibly refuse?

Your instinct to protect him kicks in as you hastily help him over the counter, switching off all the lights and falling to the floor beside him. 

You hold your breath when you hear the clamour of feet stop right in front of the store. The people chasing Jungwon discuss amongst themselves about which way he could have gone, and you pray to God that they don’t try the door and find out that it is unlocked. 

It is by stroke of pure luck that they decide to head another way, their cacophony of voices growing softer and softer as they wander away, until you and Jungwon are left in silence. You stay in silence for a while, ears perked in anticipation for any sound that could indicate that the chasers were still nearby. But, when nothing comes up, you sigh in relief and look to Jungwon to check on him. 

Only to find him sitting in the same way you found him on that stupid ship, knees tucked up to his chin, eyes wide as they stare at you, and his mouth covered by your hand—

You flinch back in surprise like you’d just been burned. Jungwon just stares back at you innocently. 

Beneath the counter of the cafe you work for, Jungwon is ostensibly close. Warmth radiates from his skin in waves, a warmth Dream Jungwon did not have, a warmth that makes it even more apparent to you that he is real. 

Your eyes find his gaze again and you feel like a butterfly with its wings pinned to a board, Jungwon examining you under a magnifying glass as his wide, sparkling eyes continue to bore into you. And then he smiles shyly, dimple carving deep into his cheek, and for a moment, you’re taken back to your stupid dream, to the sun beaming down on you, basking him in golden light, to the gratitude he displayed in his bashful smile — the same one he flashes you now, to the thudding of your heart as you can’t help but smile back at him. 

The race of life is a race Jungwon knows all too well. He’s been running for dear life since he was a teenager, after all. And now that he’s just turned the ripe age of 22—the golden years, the supposed peak of his youth, Jungwon finds himself completely, utterly exhausted. 

If he looks at things from the brightest side possible, he supposes he’s done and accomplished things that most people don’t get to experience in their entire lifetimes. He’s met a variety of people, dabbled in multiple forms of art, and explored about half of the world—all of which he is grateful for.

But Jungwon is also tired.

The downside of experiencing everything in your late-teens to early-twenties is that you have more than half a lifetime left to figure out what you want to do. Sure, he can continue making music, which, don’t get him wrong, he loves more than anything in the world—but when he’s exhausted every single facet of music, what was he going to do? Without music, what is he? Who is he?

Jungwon lets out a sigh that comes out in a puff of vapour, sniffling as he attempts to shake the negative thoughts from his head. He takes a moment to admire the nature reflected in the Han river, a sight he has seen hundreds of times before, and yet, doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it. He somehow manages to quieten his worrywart inner voice, all his worries washing away with the feeling and sound of the chilling winter winds against his face. 

Despite it being in the wee hours of the morning, the park is sparsely filled with people. Some are running, some simply passing by on their way somewhere, some spending time with their loved ones before reality sets back in with the day’s first light. 

Speaking of reality, Jungwon lets out another sigh, hanging his head in defeat, fully aware that he should be going home and that his manager is waiting for him back at his dorm, probably worried sick that Jungwon has been very pointedly ignoring his frantic calls and texts. All the relief he received from his walk is undone in the wake of his insurmountable responsibilities and Jungwon—though extremely begrudgingly—relents, pushing himself away from the railing that separates him from the water, and starts in the direction of home. 

With every step he takes, he feels like he’s trudging through quicksand. He’s expecting a dressing down from his equally worrywart manager, and it’s in these times that he’s glad he’s the leader. He knows he would have given it to one of the members if they went missing in the wee hours of the night. Even though he’s not getting it from a leader, he is also expecting at least an exchange of words with Heeseung, or maybe even Jay, if they’re not asleep that is. But even if none of these authoritative figures in his life were to berate him for his disappearance, it is without a doubt that Jungwon would drown in his own guilt at just a concerned glance from any of them. He knows what they’re all thinking, even if they don’t say a word. They’re more concerned than angry, they just want Jungwon to make good and safe decisions, they just hope that he’s okay and he can come to them whenever he needs. He knows them inside out, expects their worry, their silence, their every move before they can make them.  

One thing that Jungwon is not expecting, however, is the very timid, very faint, very feeble sound of a cat’s meow. 

He stops in his tracks and surveys the ground around him first, initially thinking his brain had conjured up the sound as an excuse to not go home. But when he hears its anguished mewls again, he widens his search radius, veering off the path to search between the blades of grass, absolutely certain that there is a cat in distress and he has to save it because he is inherently benevolent and it is his duty as an upstanding citizen and self-proclaimed cat-lover. 

Jungwon experiments by meowing back to the cat and is elated to discover that the little guy replies as best as it can, leading Jungwon right to him with his feeble meows. The little guy is trapped underneath the root of a tree, its tail seemingly pinned under a branch and Jungwon’s eyes soften, heart sinking at the predicament the cat is in and the little desperate meows it lets out once it sees Jungwon. 

One more thing that Jungwon absolutely does not expect is for someone to run right into him just as he’s about to save the poor little cat. 

Your elbow hits him right in the sternum, knocking all the air out of his lungs, and before he knows it, his back makes contact with the cold grass. Jungwon groans in pain, back and chest sore as he looks down to the perpetrator who had been completely kept out of harm’s way thanks to Jungwon himself being in said way. He almost wants to click his tongue in annoyance at the situation but holds himself back, still entirely consumed by his mission to save Mr. Cat. 

“If you’re okay, would you mind getting up please?” Jungwon voices out. Now, a little more oriented, he concludes the perpetrator is a girl, praying to God that she’s not an overzealous fan vying for his attention. When he is met with silence and absolutely no action, he hesitantly and carefully places a hand on her shoulder to shake her awake. 

What Jungwon once again doesn’t expect is for her to crumple up his hoodie in her fists and let out a wail.

“I’m sorryyyyy,” you wail, finally lifting your head to face Jungwon, tears spilling down the side of your round cheeks. “I really didn’t see youuu… I’m soooo sorryyy.”

Jungwon is frozen in place, completely and utterly unsure of what the hell he is meant to do in this insane and unbelievable situation. Seriously, what are the odds of this happening to anyone, let alone him out of all people? 

“How about… let’s, um, let’s sit up first, shall we?” Jungwon says, unsure if you’d heard any of it at all, your wails completely drowning out the sound of his very tired, very disgruntled voice. When he sees your tears drip down the curve of your jaw and sink right into the fabric of his hoodie, he lets out a disgruntled sigh. He should have just gone home.

To his surprise and relief, you had heard his words, slowly but surely retreating from his chest as you wiped tears—and he swears, mucus that he can only pray did not come anywhere near his being—from your face. Finally free from the weight of your head against his chest, Jungwon sits himself up too, stretching out his neck and testing his joints in case anything had been hurt in the fall. To his relief, aside from a little soreness from the impact, all his joints and bones seemed to be intact. 

Jungwon then turns his attention to you. Now upright and in significantly better spirits at the knowledge that he’s not hurt, he observes you properly as you shyly continue wiping your tears on the cuff of your sleeve despite the outrageous fuss you had just made that was, in Jungwon’s opinion, far from something someone who looked as shy as you did now would have done. 

And at this point, Jungwon should expect the unexpected, because just as he’s about to get up and call it a night, your gaze finds his and he is unequivocally transfixed. 

Under the glow of moonlight, your wet eyelashes sparkle like glittering jewels. Your nose is red from the cold or from crying, plump cheeks flushed in a similar fashion, a colour he likens to that of blushing, blooming cherry blossoms in the spring. And then, he notices your pouting lips; your seemly neck; your smooth, fluffy hair; your dainty ears. When Jungwon’s gaze circles back to your eyes, he feels himself gulp, suddenly so extremely aware of how you are perched politely on the grass, right between his legs. 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologise again through sniffles, offering Jungwon the softest, most apologetic gaze you can manage. His heart slams against his chest in one decisive thud and he feels all the air rush out of his lungs for the second time that night. 

Before Jungwon can recollect himself to respond, you continue in a flurry of words and excuses to justify the events that have just occurred. “I’m, I, I’ve been running around all night and I’m so tired but I…” 

You sniff and Jungwon braces himself for another wail but you decidedly keep it in, not wanting to spill your emotions onto this random stranger for the second time in one night. Once was already far too embarrassing for you to bear.

“I lost my cat and I’ve been trying to find him. And I’m scared he’s hurt because he always comes back safe and sound. And he knows his way back to my apartment, so the only logical reason he didn’t come back is because he’s hurt. And what if… what if… what if he’s dead???” 

At the mention of your cat, Jungwon lets out a huff of relief and amusement. He patiently lets you finish your rant, allows you to air out your feelings before springing into action. 

“I think I can help you with that,” he muses gently, smiling kindly as he rises to his feet, seemingly leading you just a few steps away to the foot of a tree. “Right there,” he says softly, pointing between the roots to your sweet, poor boy trapped between the branches. 

You gasp in shock, surprise, relief, just every emotion in the entire world, heart breaking even more when it meows up at you, cries for help increasing as you carefully remove the branches trapping him. You scoop him up into your arms with all the tenderness in the world, inspecting his body and you stop in horror when you see blood staining the fur on his tail and small scratches that reveal his pink flesh. You feel tears well up in your eyes all over again. 

“Yeah, his tail looks like it needs to be looked at,” Jungwon chimes in. “I think there’s a vet nearby here if you’re—”

“Oh, my Jungwonnn, it’s my fault. I’m sorry, my little Jungwonie,” you coo, tears brimming in your eyes as you nuzzle your face into the cat. It continues to mewl in pain, though his cries seem to be slightly less heartbreaking than when he was trapped, relieved at the sight of rescue. 

Human Jungwon, on the other hand, is once again, frozen completely still, feet rooted in place at the outrageous shit he’s just heard. 

“Did… you just call your cat… Jungwon?” 

You frown, turning around to look at the man behind you, who for some reason, looks absolutely shell-shocked. Maybe he’s not good with blood? 

“Yeah?” you answer in confusion. Jungwon just simply stares at you as you pay him no mind and continue examining Cat Jungwon, like your honey-soaked gaze alone will cure him. You wish it was that easy. 

“I found him in a garden,” you break the silence, looking up from Cat Jungwon to offer Jungwon a small smile. You begin gently bouncing Cat Jungwon up and down, cooing and stroking his fur gently, like one would to soothe a wailing baby. “That’s why I named him Jungwon.”

Jungwon hesitantly steps closer, holding his hand out, leveling you with an inquisitive gaze and for Cat Jungwon to sniff, waiting for both of your approvals before he moves to stroke the cat as gently as he can. Cat Jungwon seems apprehensive at first, but when he feels Jungwon’s warm, lithe fingers scratch the area behind his ear, it preens, leaning into Jungwon’s touch, enjoying his affection like a reward for all the cat has been through. 

“This isn’t the first time he’s done this,” you start suddenly. Jungwon shifts his gaze to you, not expecting you to begin a conversation. He watches you as you watch Cat Jungwon with unadulterated affection, eyes looking at the cat with so much love that he can basically see the honey dripping from your warm gaze. His eyes drop to the cat when you continue talking. 

“I’ve done everything to stop him from escaping. But somehow, he keeps outsmarting me. I used to think he was just running away. But when he broke out again last week, I found him near my university on my way home. I realised that every time he breaks out, he’s trying to find me.” You pause and your hands stop halfway through Cat Jungwon’s fur, letting out a sigh as you look off into the distance, mood souring even more at the thought of Cat Jungwon scouring through countless neighbourhoods in Korea just so he could find you and bring you back home. You don’t deserve this cat.

Jungwon continues to stay silent, simply admiring your moment with Cat Jungwon. He doesn’t think he’s seen anyone have such a strong connection with anything. Hell, even his connection to music dulls in comparison to the connection you seem to have with your cat. Jungwon begins to reflect on all the people and things he loves, all the things he has connected with and how deep the connections are. Now, he does have a deep connection with a multitude of things—the members, his music, his fans—but in this moment, despite all that he has, he suddenly has the really difficult, really ugly feeling of petulance, now cognisant of the fact that there is still something he’s missing.

“Jungwon-ah,” you coo, snatching Jungwon out of his thought process to see that you have moved to hold Cat Jungwon up so that the feline is facing you. You level the cat with a pout full of faux-frustration because yes, you’re upset it got hurt, but you can’t possibly stay mad at it for more than a millisecond. Jungwon finds the pinch in your brow particularly endearing. 

“Why do you keep running around? Just stay still, I’ll always come running back to you,” you lecture the cat, though he seems utterly uninterested in what you have to say with the way it avoids your gaze. 

And once again, Jungwon stops, your words ringing in his ear. He thinks back to his walk, the inner turmoil he was struggling with only twenty minutes ago, and is astounded by the aptness of your words. He watches as you continue to speak to your cat, awestruck and in disbelief at how much impact you have unknowingly had on him already. 

In the twenty minutes he has interacted with you, you have somehow simultaneously challenged him and comforted him through his time of uncertainty and worry. He thinks back to how you had run into him, how you looked under the glow of the moonlight, even how you handle your cat with such tenderness now, and he wonders if maybe this is what he has been missing this entire time. 

“Who was your first love?”

You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, not completely expecting Wonwoo to spring such a loaded question on you.

You contemplate for a while, really dig deep to answer his question as best as you can, but it all is for naught as you decide to lie instead.

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone before, Wonwoo,” you finally say after a long pause. With his head heavy against your lap, Wonwoo seems displeased with your answer. You quickly try to appease him with more explanation.

“I think I’ve liked many people before—,” you pause, gulp down the words that attempt to crawl its way out of your throat, light on its paws like a leopard ready to pounce. “—but to me, love is more of a choice than something that just happens, you know?”

Wonwoo remains silent, his lack of words so telling of his desire for you to continue speaking. A breeze sweeps past the two of you and you feel the metal park bench sear your skin as the setting sun beats against your back. The warm breeze tousles Wonwoo’s hair, wisps of black falling over his closed eyes and ghosting his long eyelashes. You almost burrow your fingers deep into the soft strands, the sight of it too enticing for you to resist but somehow, you manage to pull yourself from your daze and clench your fist around your shirt instead.

Perhaps if you weren’t lying to him you would feel more comfortable to run your fingers through his hair like you usually do.

“Okay," he says pointedly, though you know he doesn't mean to be sharp. "Then have you chosen to love anyone before?” Wonwoo corrects himself and presses as gently as he can. Suspicions rise within you as to why he is suddenly so curious about who you have loved before. You almost allow your poor heart to hope again, to believe that maybe this curiosity stems from love itself, a love that Wonwoo holds for you.

“You. I will always choose to love you,” is what you burn to say. The words scratch at your throat, nails digging into flesh and drawing blood in its attempt to escape from the tip of your tongue. Your lips, however, are relentless and stubborn.

“I’ve never really thought about it, Wonwoo,” is the lame answer you decide on. Eyes dropping from the sky to his closed eyelids. In your fragmented mind, you imagine Wonwoo’s eyes, all the colours coming together slowly and easily as you paint them in your head, almost lifting your hands to follow the brush strokes against a canvas that you have perfected again and again when Wonwoo’s eyes plagued your mind in the middle of the night and all you could do was paint them over and over and over again.

“Think about it now,” Wonwoo supplies, opening his eyes to look straight into yours. He springs up from your lap, eager and curious in the way he always is around you and you swear, you almost let the words slip past the cage of your mouth.

The thing about Wonwoo and you is that if you were to ever tell him that you’ve been in love with him since forever, he wouldn’t take it well. The two of you have grown up together after all and the man has established what he likes in a partner over and over again (which, you regret to admit, is the complete opposite of you).

The other thing is that Wonwoo knows everyone who has come and gone from your life. He knows your every feeling, sometimes even before you know you’re feeling that way. So, lying really is out of the options. Not that you had options to begin with.

“Why don’t you tell me about your first love first, Wonwoo? Maybe then, I’ll be more encouraged.”

Wonwoo sends you a lame look, eyes narrowed in a faux glare for turning his question on him. You laugh and reach to ruffle his hair but catch yourself halfway and settle on patting his shoulder instead.

“Okay, fine.” He sits up and faces the lake before you, shoulder brushing up against yours as he leans back against the bench. If you tilt your head a little bit to the right, your head will be on his shoulder and you curse him for sitting so close to you when there is still so much space on the bench. You keep your eyes on the glittering lake and try to ignore the way his arm feels pressed up against your own.

“I know this is crazy to say but I think my first love was Jieun,” Wonwoo answers with a sheepish smile, eyes dropping from the lake to his twiddling fingers, then back up to look at you when you don’t say anything.

You meet his eyes and feel yourself break a little inside when the setting sun meets his irises and sets them ablaze, the usual dark brown lighting up to a mesmerising shade of amber that you memorise and pray you remember to paint later.

“Why do you say so, Woo?” you ask despite yourself. You cringe at your use of his nickname, something you had decided to haphazardly add in an attempt to seem unfazed by his confession. You wish it had been you. You always wish it was you.

“I don’t know,” he deflects. But he does know and it is so evident in the eager way he parts his lips to speak about her, in the way he readjusts himself in his seat, a habit of his you have ingrained in your brain along with everything else that has to do with him.

“I mean— she was my first girlfriend. So, I guess she was the first person I chose to love,” he continues. “I chose to put myself out there, despite the fact that I had, like a hundred percent chance of being rejected. But I think choosing to bare your soul to that person is the first step in loving, if that even makes sense.”

Wonwoo’s words silence you. You contemplate all of the times you had worked up the courage to tell him, only to chicken out and keep your feelings to yourself. You were always so afraid of losing him you guess you didn’t realise you were invalidating your love for him, and in turn, his love for you.

Because Wonwoo would understand, he of all people wouldn’t shut you out and shun you away just because he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. In fact, Wonwoo would feel bad for not feeling the same way as you. Because he’s Wonwoo, so fiercely kind and compassionate, so understanding and warm and loving, the one and only person who was able to shake up your rock-hard heart and melt it down into easy and pliable, the one person who was able to make you fall in love.

“Okay, now it’s your turn—“

“You,” you say without hesitation, fuelled by his words and your realisation. Wonwoo turns to you in confusion first before he finally gets it, mouth previously ajar to express his confusion zipping shut as soon as he realises.

You don’t look at him, eyes trained on the lake and the small ripples in water the fish make when their little fins break the surface tension. But you feel his eyes bore into you, gaze soft and already apologetic and you exhale harshly at the thought of Wonwoo feeling sorry for not realising how you’ve been feeling for the past six years.

“But I don’t think you’re my first love. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve loved anyone other than you, Wonwoo," you say, baring your heart and soul to the one man you have ever loved, to the one man you will continue to love forever.

"I don't even know when it started," you continue when Wonwoo remains unnervingly silent. "Maybe it was when we ran in the rain hand in hand when we were twelve. Or maybe, it was when you started dating Jieun and I cried for two weeks. All I know is, one way or another, I began choosing you over everything."

The words leave your lips like a bird that has been caged for aeons. And perhaps, it is a horrible thing; to be left empty and to never be filled again, the cage door broken by the tenacity of the bird, by its thirst for freedom and its razor sharp claws. But at the same time, isn't it such a good thing? To not have to clench your teeth so tightly anymore, to be able to walk around without the substantial weight of your feelings weighing you down like a thousand kilograms against your chest.

"And I know I'm totally not your type. Believe me, I'm well-versed in exactly what you look for in a partner. I've spent hours, years, forever, trying to be exactly what you want, trying to be someone I'm not. And I know you're going to reject me and our friendship isn't ever going to be the same ever again and it'll be so weird now. But I just—"

You catch yourself midsentence, not quite sure what to say as every single feeling you've ever felt bubbles up inside your stomach and fills your lung cavity, the feelings so suffocating, you almost think that if you dived into that lake you might be able to breathe better than you are breathing right now.

"Just?" Wonwoo prompts quietly, the first thing he's said since you started pouring your heart out to him. His voice is meek, almost afraid that anything he says will set you off, his eyes wide in observation, gaze guarded, expression like nothing you have seen on Wonwoo before.

"I just thought I owed you this much, that I'd explode if I didn't tell you," you finally manage to get out, though your voice gets caught in your throat in a way that has you running laps in your head, that has your palms sweating and your eyes watering.

You quickly blink away your tears and look up to anticipate Wonwoo's answer. You aren't surprised to find that he's already looking at you and for the first time in forever, you can't tell what Wonwoo is thinking or feeling.

Wonwoo doesn't really say anything, not verbally at least. But he continues to look at you, eyes studying you so intently you feel your neck warm and your cheeks burn. His silence unnerves you. Wonwoo has always been a man of few words so you have gotten used to his silences, but that was when you were well-versed in reading him, when you knew what every small quirk of his brow meant, what he was feeling with every lilt of the corner of his lips.

Perhaps that is why you are caught off guard when he finally speaks, jumping so far out of your skin it makes Wonwoo jump too.

"I love you, Y/N," is how Wonwoo begins his sentence. And you'd never thought you'd hear those two words in the same sentence come from his mouth; your name and love uttered so vulnerably your pulse stutters.

"But just," he pauses, the calm before the storm, the screaming in your head is so loud, it deafens. "not in that way, you know? I'm sorry."

Your heart breaks all over again at his apology. You stand up to leave, the hand that finds your wrist begs you to stay. You don't want him to see you like this. But you don't have anyone else to go to. The person you find the most comfort in is breaking your heart because you let him.

Wonwoo tugs on your arm and you comply silently, feeling a lump as big as your heart form in your throat. You force your tears down, force the tsunami of feelings down, down, down so deep inside you, you pray you forget about it and it disappears forever.

Wonwoo tugs your arm one more time, and you, so overwhelmed with your feelings as always, allow him to tuck your head under his chin, allow him to guide your arms around his waist, allow him to engulf you in his arms, allow him to comfort you just one more time before you lose the one relationship you cherished.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head, his own voice breaking. He doesn't want to hurt you. He wishes he could say yes, wishes he could overwhelm you with joy by just saying those three words and meaning it in exactly the way you want. Maybe he can. Wonwoo doesn't know. He just knows he never ever wants to be the cause of your tears again.

You didn't think you could miss someone as much as you did in this moment. Perhaps it is because you can feel the etching of the tattoo onto the skin of your right clavicle, or perhaps it is just a placebo effect, but right now, you miss your soulmate. Someone you have yet to meet, someone you have yet to fall in love with, someone who doesn't know you exist; whom you too, have yet to learn of their existence.

On your eighteenth birthday, you spend the first few hours of your special day writhing in pain as inked lines drag across your skin, an invisible tattoo gun imprinting the tattoo into your smooth skin forever. Perhaps it wouldn't have hurt this much if the tattoo were anywhere else on your body. But the process is drawn out and miserable as the lines form on your skin, the tattooing so painful you almost think the collarbone beneath your skin is being branded too. Maybe that is why you feel the ache in your bones, the longing for your soulmate so great you feel it hum beneath your skin, with each line embedded, the wistful feeling growing stronger.

You didn't think you could miss someone as much as you did in this moment, especially when their existence causes you three hours of agony in the early hours of your birthday.

By the time the tattooing is complete, you rip yourself from your bed and stand in front of your mirror. Your shirt is drenched in sweat and though it doesn't feel like a knife is dragging through your skin anymore, the sharp pain of the needle is replaced with a sore ache that you are sure will not subside until after a few days.

Gazing into the mirror, the skin surrounding the tattoo is bright red and inflamed. But then, you realise the tattoo, a sequence, a blossoming; fruition. The lines are dainty and thin as they outline a pear, first whole, then cut in half with its seeds showing, then— you assume— the pear's flower. It's beautiful, in a way you would not have appreciated if this tattoo didn't have any subliminal connection to your future significant other.

But you can't help but think that these tattoos are supposed to give you a clue on what your soulmate is like and how to find them. The sequence of pears baffles you. Are you going to buy pears and meet them somehow? Or are you going to go pear picking and meet them amongst the shrubbery? Or does your soulmate just really like pears?

You spend the rest of the night pondering, and your entire commute to school a few hours later is spent learning everything you can about pears and its flowers, though there really isn't much to learn about pears and pear blossoms.

By the time you reach school and are settled into your first class, your frustration overwhelms you. Just what is it with your soulmate and pears? Why do they like pears so much or why are they associated with pears? Of all the things in the world it had to be pears and not, maybe, a volleyball? Then at least you'd know that they play volleyball or like it very much. Volleyball would be so much easier to bring up in a conversation. But pears? Were you going have to ask every new person you met if they liked pears?

You spend a whole week distracted, upset and frustrated. You almost wonder if you should go pear picking just in case that's what the universe wanted you to do. You also spend the entire week looking at peoples collarbones like a maniac, leaving your own collarbones exposed with lower cut shirts and blouses just in case your soulmate spotted you first. And when the week ends, you are wholly and utterly exhausted, giving up with a huff about it to Kevin.

"Already?" Kevin drawls, knowing full well how you need always need little reason to give up. You sulk on his couch, splayed unceremoniously across the small thing, your face shoved into the cushions as you pray for the couch to just swallow you whole.

"You know," Kevin starts. And you think he is finally going to give you advice rather than criticising you on how you have to 'let love find you' and all that bullshit but Kevin, as long as he's been your friend, is always unpredictable. "A lot of butts have been on that couch. You're kissing like maybe twenty butts right now."

You groan, the butt couch cushion muffling your sound of displeasure as Kevin breaks into a fit of giggles as you attempt to push him off the couch with your foot digging into his side. When he refuses to budge, you emerge from the cushion, sitting upright to begin pushing Kevin with all your might, only adding insult to injury as his laughs get louder and louder when you fail to drive him off his own couch.

Just as Kevin is half a butt away from falling butt-first onto the carpet, the door to his apartment swings open and Kevin's roommate walks in. You and Kevin freeze, as the two of your laughs halt almost immediately, your attention directing to Jacob at the door.

The sight from Jacob's point of view is comical. Kevin is basically hovering in air with how little of his ass is still on the couch and you are pushed up against his back, your arm flush against him between his shoulder blades as you push against him like he is an immovable wall.

"Hey, Cob," Kevin greets him, lifting a hand from where it was gripping onto the couch for dear life, refusing to lose to you and your childishly petty antics. Kevin thinks that one hand is enough to hold up against you, but he forgets that five years of volleyball never leave your body (even though the muscles do after years of not playing it) and while he is distracted, you play dirty and finally push him from the couch, the thump of his butt hitting the floor a fanfare for your victory in your ears.

"Hey, so not fair!" Kevin turns to you and complains. You ignore him and smile at Jacob who only smiles silently as he enters the apartment and closes the door behind him.

"Hi Jacob," you say with a wave, directing your smile at him. He smiles and mutters a greeting back that you don't quite catch, far too immersed in your victory to have heard it.

"How's the birthday boy?" Kevin asks Jacob as he removes his shoes and places a bag onto the kitchenette counter. Silently, Jacob removes groceries he'd bought before coming home as Kevin continues to talk to him, placing a box of cereal in a cabinet, restocking the fridge with bottles of barley tea and chugging the near-empty jug of milk in favour of putting a fresh one in its place.

"You still haven't shown me your tattoo," Kevin says in a sing-song voice, standing from his position on the floor to flutter and hover over Jacob's shoulder as he makes himself a sandwich, ignoring Kevin and treating him like he would a housefly.

You stay quiet on the couch, focusing your attention on the forgotten television as you try your best not to listen in on their conversation. It's usually like this. Jacob hasn't made many efforts to talk to you in the six months he's lived as Kevin's housemate. You don't really mind, though. Jacob is nice and offered you cereal on many occasions when you were over at Kevin's. The two of you are just amicable, quiet people and neither of you have had a problem with that for six months. And it's not like you don't ever talk if Jacob's around, you do join the conversation sometimes but this one, this horrible, annoying, frustrating topic that Kevin has chosen for the conversation, is one you'd rather sit out, lest Jacob find out your wrath.

"Because I don't want to show you, Kev. I know you'll make fun of me," Jacob retorts, the clang of the butter knife against the counter like a judge's court gaval, signifying the end of the discussion. Jacob looks up to Kevin with his pear jam bread and takes a bite out of it, chewing loudly in Kevin's face as if to mock him for yet again failing to sneak a peek at his soulmate tattoo.

Kevin grimaces as he feels goosebumps arise on his skin, the sight so revolting he almost vomits right onto Jacob. "I don't understand why you can't be normal and just eat strawberry jam like everyone else. Pear jam? C'mon, Cob," he complains with a shudder of disgust.

"Hey, everyone has their own pref—" Jacob argues back, but halts halfway when he notices you march into the kitchen from the living room, a crazed look about you as you lean over the counter and hover your face so close to Jacob's he almost spits.

"Jacob."

"Y/N?" he greets back, though it sounds more like a question; sounds more like: Yes? Whatever do you need? I will give you anything you ask.

"You like pears?"

"Yes, I do.... Why?" The shirt that Kevin lent you when you first stepped into his apartment from your presentation falls off your right shoulder as you continue to press into Jacob, leaning further and further over the counter until you are almost completely on it. Jacob adverts his eyes from where your skin shows and is forced to look you dead in the eye, your face so close to his, his eyes almost cross and your noses almost bump.

You say nothing else and simply examine his face in silence. Kevin watches on and wonders how you have enough strength to be holding yourself up in such an awkward position but does nothing to voice his concerns, figuring that desperation does things to the best of people, you included.

The silent eye contact continues as you push the items on the counter to the side, careful enough to not let anything fall onto the ground as you climb onto the kitchen counter, holding Jacob's gaze with your own, wide-eyed and frenzied like a wild animal.

Kevin, right beside the both of you, uses all the cells in his body to hold himself back from laughing. He wishes that he could record this moment but his phone is charging next to the couch and he refuses to miss a moment of the most awkward flirting he's ever seen. Kevin is a good storyteller and it will just have to suffice.

Eventually, you narrow your eyes at Jacob, gaze darting from his eyes down to the collar of his shirt and Jacob lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, thinking this extremely bizarre encounter has finally come to an end. He soon finds out he is wrong, however, when you lurch forward and grab him by his collar, almost looking like you're about to sock him right in his face.

Shutting his eyes as if waiting for impact, Jacob panics. "W-Wait! Y/N! Whatever is bothering you can be solved with words! Violence is never the answer!" he blurts out in lightning speed, the words spilling from his lips in a panic he's never felt before. You are usually a quiet, demure person. Just what has gotten into you?

When Jacob doesn't feel your knuckles digging into his cheekbone, he peels his eyes open, relieved. Only to have complete and utter horror wash over him as he opens his eyes to see you glaring down his shirt.

Jacob, horrified and utterly embarrassed, flushes all the way down to the base of his neck, finally coming to his senses as he snatches himself from your loosened grip, and hugs his shirt close to his body, violated and shocked beyond words. Because Jacob didn't want you to see him like this! He's on break from the volleyball team! He isn't in top condition! He'd wanted you to look at him when he was at the best of his game, not when he's had one too many bowls of cereal!

"Y/N!" Jacob manages to cry in horror, but doesn't say anything else.

Kevin, having witnessed the whole thing, finally cannot bear to control himself any longer, bursting into a fit of maniacal laughs as he falls to his knees, so unadulteratedly stricken by humour his legs can no longer bear to hold himself up.

"You guys are insane!" Kevin exclaims between laughs, the words coming out breathless as Kevin tries not to laugh as hard as he is laughing, only to laugh even harder when he realises his attempts at decorum fail miserably.

"Find what you're looking for, Y/N?" Kevin asks with a mischievous lilt in the tone of his voice, finally finding enough composure to not wheeze his every word. But once the sentence is finished, he bursts back out into laughter, holding his stomach as he continues to laugh at you and Jacob.

"Yeah, whatever, Kev," you say with an eye roll and a scowl, turning your gaze back to a beet red, shock-ridden Jacob, who stands with the collar of his shirt over his mouth, an attempt at hiding the hot blush that ravages his neck and the apples of his cheeks.

You hop off the counter, this time on the same side as Jacob, avoiding his bread that he'd dropped on the floor in shock by a hair as you approach Jacob who backs up until his back hits the cabinets behind him, wavering gaze flickering between you and the still-laughing Kevin in anxiety.

Gently, you place your hand on his, gesturing him to lower down his shirt. It takes a long, reassuring gaze for Jacob to let down his guard again but eventually, his hands lower, bringing the collar of his shirt along with him. Then, ever so gently, you tug his shirt aside so that his clavicle is no longer hidden, and lo and behold, there it is. The same blooming sequence of a pear, dainty and small scrawled across Jacob's skin in thin, inked lines, the skin surrounding the tattoo red and inflamed as you trace over the outline of the tattoo.

This close, Jacob can feel your breath tickle the skin of his neck and Jacob, surprised, horrified, shocked, a mix of every possible emotion in this moment cannot compute anymore emotions, especially one of this intensity. He feels his heart swell, the dull vessel thudding like the hooves of a racing horse against the ground, the muscle galloping in his ribcage so violently he wonders if it is going to give way and fly right out of his chest.

He swore, to himself (and Kevin that one night Kevin couldn't stop asking him questions about you) that he only thought you were pretty. But now that you are basically leaning your entire body on him, lithe, gentle fingers tracing his tattoo with the pad of your finger, Jacob swears he's in love with you.

By the time your finger traces over the flower, your other hand comes up to your own tattoo, fresh but not quite as raw as Jacob's, tracing over both tattooed flowers simultaneously, entranced, in awe, so utterly at a loss for words your brain barely thinks about anything but the pear and the pear's seeds and the flower that arises from the seed.

"To think you were so close this whole time," you finally whisper and Jacob feels it against his neck. Your scent is beginning to waft into his nose, your sweet vanilla shampoo and citrus body wash so intoxicating Jacob swears he hears his cells run around his brain in a frenzy.

"Ok, stop this now, it's not funny anymore," Kevin finally says from behind you, recovered from his fit of laughter as he rises from the floor.

"I think I peed myself a little," he comments offhandedly, like it isn't embarrassing at all to have peed yourself at nineteen from uncontrollable laughter.

Free from your frenzied state, you peel yourself from Jacob as he continues to process things, eyes fixated on the ink that rests gently atop your clavicle. So, you are soulmates. And you found out because Kevin expressed his disgust for pear jam.

Jacob and you are soulmates. Soulmates. Bound together by the universe since before the two of you were born, a connection so indisputable that the planets and stars cannot separate the two of you. Jacob is soulmates with you. Jacob Bae is soulmates with Y/N. You are Y/N..... he is your soulmate. Jacob's mind doesn't seem to work anymore, too tired from the unexpected plot twist or too giddy with joy that you are his soulmate; that he is yours.

"Okay," you declare with a clap, Jacob awakes from his stupor and swears you can see smoke arising from his head, so utterly spent mentally that he just wants to nap on the couch like he was planning to in the first place. He hopes you will join him.

"Let's restart this. Hi, I'm Y/N. I'm Kevin's best friend and I study botany."

Jacob finally lets an amused smile tilt the corners of his lips upwards as he takes your outstretched hand in his and shakes it, ignoring the way his heart stutters at the feel of your hand in his.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Jacob Bae and I study music," Jacob greets back and lets go of your hand only when he feels you retract, your smiling expression morphing into one of shock. At first, Jacob thinks you're acting, smiling along with an amused grin he feels is going to split his face open soon if he doesn't stop, but he can't help but smile when you look so adorable like this.

"Your surname is Bae?"

Jacob's grin falters a little but he still continues to smile through the mild confusion. "Yeah, why?"

Jacob doesn't get an answer but the most adorable squeal and a hug. He doesn't understand what he's done to deserve these things but he doesn't complain, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you hug him, so excited that you're hugging him so tight he almost feels his stomach come up through his oesophagus.

When you pull away, grin as big as his, you see his slightly confused smile and cannot help but laugh, sandwiching Jacob's face in between your hands and gently kneading his soft, pliant cheeks with your hands.

"Jacob! Don't you understand?"

"Not really," he says though the sound is muffled with you playing with his cheeks and all.

Kevin's sigh comes from behind you and he speaks up, though this time his voice sounds soft and content, possibly happy. "Bae means pear in Korean, Cob."