K(ay)-rot

It feels like an invasion of privacy, but fuck, you just can’t focus on that right now, not with the burning pain rippling from your shoulder. Impossibly, the bullet still feels like it’s blazing hot where it was sunken into your flesh -- even though you dug it out on the way -- and you flex your jaw in an attempt not to scream. Now is not the time to draw any unwanted attention.

Your left arm is starting to lose feeling, and your head swims from the blood loss. Just as you’re climbing over the balcony rail from the condemned fire escape, your elbow buckles. You fall to the floor with a yelp, pain shooting through your shoulder even though you did your best not to land on it. The black mask on the lower half of your face starts to slip.

You try your hardest not to cry.

The lights inside flick on, and you finally realize how bad of an idea this is.

You haven’t seen Jihoon since over six months ago, when he told you he didn’t want to be anyone’s soulmate.

He’d used the word “anyone”, but it could only apply to you.

Another bout of pain runs through you as you lay there on his balcony. You grit your teeth, and even though your ears are ringing like mad, you can hear footsteps from inside.

He rushes up to the sliding door, visible through the glass even though your vision is starting to cloud with dark grey blotches. His eyes widen, and he opens the door with haste.

“What--”

“Jihoon.”

He’s crouched over you now, but when you say his name, he stops staring at your bleeding shoulder and infamous red leather jacket and instead meets your eyes.

“How do you know my name?”

“I think it’s only fair.” You reach your right arm up, grabbing your mask and slipping it off your face. “Since you know my name.”

Jihoon gasps, though the sound is quiet compared to everything else. “You’re Red?” he whispers.

Your vigilante alias sounds all too real on his tongue.

“No.” Gritting your teeth, you take a second to squeeze your eyes shut and pry them open again with a gasping breath. You can’t collapse now; you’ve already gotten this far. “I just work at Target.”

He doesn’t so much as let out a puff of air through his nose at your attempted humour, instead bringing his hands up and hovering them over you like he has no idea what to do with them. You don’t blame him.

“Jihoon... I need you to help me.”

He frowns, brows furrowing as he stares intently at your shoulder. You know it looks bad.

“How?”

“Just--” You rip off the glove on your left hand and weakly hold it a few centimetres off the floor. “--hold my hand. Please.”

He wastes no time in waiting, and as soon as you feel his skin touch yours, the flow of the soulmate connection washes over you. The pain doesn’t go away, not exactly, but suddenly you can breathe normally, and your shoulder feels lighter, somehow.

They say a soulmate’s healing touch can’t be described -- that you can’t know what it feels like until you’ve felt it yourself. As much as people have tried in books and movies and poetry, you think what they say is right.

It’s indescribable.

You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but when you open them again, you see Jihoon still next to you, your hand in both of his, pressed against his forehead. Though his hands are blocking his face, the light sniffling you can hear gives him away.

“What are you crying for?”

Quickly, he wipes at his eyes with one hand while still holding on to you with the other. “I’m not crying.”

“Okay.” You give him a soft smile, still not strong enough to do much else to show your thanks. “Can you take me inside?”

Jihoon frowns again. “You’re not... Your shoulder, it hasn’t--”

“I know.”

“You’ve just barely stopped bleeding,” he continues. “You’re not fully healed yet.”

Groaning, you try to sit yourself up, and he looks at you like you’re crazy. You kind of are. 

“I know, Jihoon, but I think it’s best to do the rest inside. I don’t want people seeing me here and accusing you of helping Red.”

“But I am helping you.”

With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. “They don’t need to know that. Now help me up, please.”

Jihoon wants to settle you down on his couch, but you don’t let him since you know how awful it is getting blood out of fabric. You make him take you to the small kitchen area instead, leaning against the counter while he struggles to get you a glass of water with one hand. He doesn’t notice you struggling to hop up on the counter, and by the time he makes a stuttered protest, you’re already sitting on top, your head resting lightly on one of the kitchen cabinets.

The soulmate connection is making you a bit lightheaded -- or maybe that’s still the blood loss.

“Don’t do stuff like that while you’re still injured,” he says as he hands you the glass of water.

“Thanks.” You don’t address his nagging, preferring to chug down the water instead.

Jihoon watches you, concern written all over his face. His hand tightens ever so slightly around yours, and you try not to focus on the way his thumb rubs over the back of your hand.

“You look like you have questions.”

Before you’d flopped onto his balcony, you’d prepared yourself for an interrogation, but with the way he’s looking at you, this isn’t going to be one.

He speaks softly, like talking too loud will break you. “What... happened?”

“Drug bust.” You take another sip of water, and Jihoon seems to bristle at your casual air. “Normally I leave dealers alone, but...”

“But?”

You put the glass down, suddenly not wanting to meet Jihoon’s eyes.

There are only two people in your life who know about your alternate identity. Three now, you suppose. Your best friend has known since the beginning, though, and his doctor friend he roped into this mess -- who's conveniently out of town for the week -- politely asked you to keep any and all details regarding your vigilante work from him. Plausible deniability and all that.

So it's not often you talk about the world's injustices with someone who doesn't really... know you.

Your soulmate has no idea who you are.

“This guy,” you say. Errant thoughts are useless, so you simply continue. “He deals to kids -- targets them, specifically. And he laces his shit so they keep coming back for more until--”

Jihoon steps closer when your breath hitches.

“...A kid OD’ed yesterday. She’s in the hospital now, and she’s going to be okay, but...” You bring a hand up to your face, digging your finger into the corner of your eye. Oh, so now you’re going to cry, huh? “I couldn’t let this guy keep hurting kids like that. I had to take it into my own hands.”

“You got shot.”

A snort escapes you, and you gasp a bit in pain when your shoulder protests the sudden movement. Jihoon’s healing touch works quickly, but apparently not quick enough.

“I know I got shot,” you say with a smile. “It’s a part of the process.”

Jihoon doesn’t seem to like that. “You should have been more careful.”

“I was careful. Believe me, it could’ve gone a lot worse.” You try to laugh it off, but he isn’t amused. “Besides, the fact that I got shot and had to high-tail it out of there means that asshole is still on the streets. I need to find him again.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Jihoon just looks at you. It’s almost uncomfortable under his gaze, but you don’t break the eye contact, too scared of what will happen if you look away.

This is the longest you’ve ever spoken to him.

You only wish it was under better circumstances.

“Well.” You slide off the countertop, pulling your hand out of his grip. He’s too surprised by the sudden change in pace that he barely even reacts. “Thanks for your help, Jihoon. Seriously.”

“I-- you’re not--” he stumbles over his words again, but his intention is clear.

Already partway to the balcony door, you turn around to face him again.

“I’m fine,” you insist, rotating your shoulder to show him. Still, the movement makes you wince, and you can tell Jihoon sees through your bullshit.

“You’re not fine.”

“Even so.” You take hold of the mask still hanging around your neck and bring it back over your face. Hooking the straps behind your ears, you try to give him a look that says goodbye. “I have to get going.”

“Are you going after him again?” Jihoon asks, voice harder than before. “That drug dealer?”

You sigh, one hand on the balcony door. “Someone has to.”

“Don’t. You’ll get hurt again.”

Looking at him again, you narrow your eyes. His hands are wringing together, but the glint in his eye is sharp.

“And what, Jihoon? Let him keep peddling drugs to teenagers? Wait until another one overdoses? I don’t have a choice--”

“What if it’s worse next time? What if I can’t help you?” He steps closer.

You snap. “I don’t want your help.”

“Why not?”

He’s up close now, barely a foot between the two of you as you try not to lean your weight on the sliding door. You’re less healed than you thought, but you can’t let it show.

“No offense, Jihoon,” you say with a scoff, “but I don’t really feel like spending time with a soulmate who doesn’t want me.”

He blinks, mouth opening slightly, but no words come out. You take that moment to slide open the door behind you and slip out, hopping over the railing and bracing yourself over the edge.

You look back up at him where he hasn’t moved from the doorway. He’s still staring at you.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” you say.

And with that, you disappear into the night.

“Are you sure you have them all memorized,” was the wrong thing to say. Vernon lifts his head from his hands, the glare sent to Seungkwan was enough to make the boy go wide-eyed and sip his drink (an ice-americano because what else) a little harder.

The café, run by an elderly couple, is graced by the sounds of soft instrumentals, with the thought of not further disturbing the customers. Not many students visit the café, a horrible rumor spread throughout the campus of the quality of the food- which was later proven to be false, but the café never recovered. However, it could not keep the group of four boys away.

“Give him some pity,” Mingyu says, taking a bite out of the cream-filled pastry, “I would have gone crazy if someone kept the same song on repeat for hours.”

“But it’s been days,” Chan whispers, leaning in, hands grasping his drink, “maybe they died with their headphones in.”

They all look at him, faces filled with disbelief. While it was common that some people kept certain songs on repeat, it's unheard of that anyone has died with their headphones still on.

Vernon, playing off Chan’s comment, turns to Mingyu, “Listen, when you found your soulmate, what changed?” Mingyu softens, slumping down into his chair, practically letting gravity weigh him down. “It was like, like the world stopped,” he says dreamily, “I remember, I was listening to the Over the Garden Wall soundtrack-” Seungkwan rolls his eyes, “Typical.”

Mingyu stops, eyeing the younger boy, “I was listening to the Over the Garden Wall soundtrack,” he says slower, enunciating every word, eyes glued onto the younger boy. “Is there a problem with that, Seungkwan?”

“No no, continue your story,” he waves Mingyu off. Annoyed, Mingyu slouches back down, “Yeah well, I was listening in math class then, out of the corner of my eye, I see this girl make a cone out of red paper and put it on her head. And when I stopped playing it, she took it off. Then I started it again, and she put it back on.” He lets a light sigh at the memory, a soft smile taking over his features, “I went up to her with my own red cone and the rest is history,” he finishes, popping a macaron in his mouth.

Chan snorts, “You say it so casually, I remember Wonwoo telling me how you were ‘freaking out’ and ‘weren’t ready yet’.” Mingyu slaps him on his shoulder as the rest of the table erupts into laughter.

“Now now, boys,” the elderly woman comes out of the kitchen and next to their table, “we’ll be closing up shop now, don’t want you walking in the dark.” The boys nod their heads, and place their dirty plates and cups on the tray, Chan walking it to the kitchen before she gets the chance to stop him. Ever since the rumor, the café has only been run by Mr. and Mrs. Han. They built the café after they found each other in one in their hometown. Mr. Han had been serving Mrs. Han her coffee, when Princes of The Universe started blasting in his head. He stumbled, dropping the coffee onto the young girl’s books. Apologizing profusely, he noticed a Walkman with A Kind of Magic sitting on the table. Who would’ve thought that the girl doused in light pink, sweetheart clothing, loved 80’s rock.

As of recently, the shop had been only run by Mrs. Han- Mr. Han had come down with a cold that was spreading around. (Chan had once been a victim- the other boys had barricaded him in his room to stop him from going out). The shop’s hours were cut-short. The Han’s refusing to hire any underclassmen who are just starting their college careers, and upperclassmen who wanted nothing to do with the shop.

They also refuse to hire any of the boys.

“You all are going to graduate soon,” Mr. Han said when Mingyu offered to help on his off time, “What’s the point if you all are going to leave in a year.” Yes, it did sound harsh, but the bitter sweet smile on his face said otherwise.

After helping Mrs. Han close all the shades, (they stopped putting up the chairs when they noticed that she couldn’t get them back down without dropping them), they began their trek back to their apartment.

Seungkwan taps Dino, “Look, he’s doing it again.” They turn to Vernon, who slowed down significantly behind them. He doesn’t look angry, but his face is scrunched, and he’s rubbing at his temples through his beanie. He pulls his airpods out of his pocket and places them in, playing a soft instrumental to drown out his headache.

He adores his soulmate, he really does- but there is only so much of this stupid song he can take. If Vernon has the elements memorized, then why shouldn’t his soulmate, who is most likely a STEM major, have it memorized as well? He hates to take it away from them, but the soft piano sounds submerge him in a sea of calm, and he can’t help but feel like he deserves some peace. And if he’s forcing his soulmate to take a break for their current studies, then where is the harm in that.

Vernon is never mean to his soulmate. If he wanted to, he could blast his scrapped instrumentals, or his phase of, what Mingyu likes to call, “transformer sex music” (which was met with Vernon throwing a water bottle at him and dragging the file to the recycle bin). But when the song becomes too much, he’ll play something classical. He wouldn’t consider himself an expert on classical music, he only knows the basics from his music history class, but its the only way he can communicate to his soulmate that enough is enough and to turn that stupid song off.

That night, Vernon sleeps peacefully. His second pair of airpods in (so his daytime ones can charge) bringing not only himself, but his soulmate into a deep slumber.

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“Your poor soulmate must fucking hate you,” Jun whispers, “I would’ve ripped my ears off if I heard that stupid song for hours on end.”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up and pay attention, the professor said this was gonna be on the test.”

The lecture hall is filled with students and with sounds of rushed typing and lead on paper. The professor is droning on about atomic orbitals and quantum numbers. The chalkboard is covered in numbers, and charts, and The List.

The List is a list of students who have attempted to name every element on the periodic table, all within under a minute. There are two sides to this list, one with people who have passed this trial, and one with those who have failed.

You are on the side of those who failed.

You’ll admit, you were a bit cocky going into it. Confidently raising your hand and putting yourself front and center when naming them. And you didn’t mess up. No, you did not stutter nor did you skip any of these precious elements, but time ran up by the time you got to the Actinides, and your professor, who had a gleam in her eyes from your almost perfect run, sadly put your name under the FAILED label.

Your pride never recovered, and you were too afraid to attempt it again the next class, or the class after that, or the class after that. The next time you were to stand from your desk, you will proudly get your name removed to the proper side (you will also get 5 extra credit points for it, not that you need it, you just wanted to redeem yourself).

But it wasn’t all bad, your friendship with Jun did spark because of your failure. Him having come up to you, giving a comforting pat on the back. “Yeah, I did the same thing last semester. Oh, why am I taking the class again? No, yeah I slept through my final.”

Jun took you to get tea, and then proceeded to recite the entire periodic table in less then a minute right in front of you, smirk on his face the entire time. When you asked how he managed to do that, he gave you the link to a periodic table song. How you’ve never heard of it before still boggles your mind, but now, it’s at the top of your spotify most listened, and it will continue to be until the end of this god forsaken class.

You’re brought back to attention when the teacher shuts off their laptop and announces that the homework will be posted after class. When greeted with the sounds of groans from her students, she gives a heartfelt laugh and promises that it should only take about two hours (which really means it should take about five).

“I just need to be able to get my name moved, then my soulmate can never hear that song again,” you shrug you bag onto your shoulders, “and I do feel a little bad, but when they play those stupid random instrumentals for hours on end, then maybe I don’t feel as bad.” He follows you out of the classroom, joining the sea of kids who all just ended their lectures.

Jun rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well, if I had to unwillingly listen to the same song about the elements I would try to get a little revenge too.”

The two of you walk to your next class together, all that having the same major entails, you won’t be getting rid of Jun for a while and vice versa.

However, and you are walking out of the hall, you fail to notice the student who just transferred into the class. A boy who had finally decided to go into a graduate program where he, unfortunately, had to take chemistry. And while the world only has a rough estimate of the actual speed of dinosaurs, this little dino managed to race back to his friend in record time.

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No matter how many elements Vernon knew (which was all of them), nothing prepared him enough to sit through a two hour lecture on the complexities of chemistry. He found himself sitting, dumbfounded, about everything that was going on. The lively classroom was silenced immediately as soon as the professor walked it. Small in structure, she placed her briefcase down, connected her laptop, and began the lesson.

Ten minutes in, Vernon couldn’t help but turn to Chan, “dude, what am I doing here? Actually, what are you doing here?” Chan turns to him confused, “I need this class for my major?”

“You’re majoring in STEM?”

“Bro, I’ve been in bio-engineering for three years, I just need this class for a good graduate program.”

Vernon turns back to the front board, a little shocked “Oh.”

“Yea oh,” Chan scoffs, “now pay attention the class is almost over.” Chan grabs Vernon’s shoulder and points him in your direction, “now you see them, they're gonna stand and start doing something that’s gonna change your life.”

Vernon looks even more confused, what does he mean they’re gonna ‘change his life?’ How would a random person in a chemistry class change his life? But then Vernon realizes, and sits a little straighter in his seat, trying to get a better look.

Chan gets out an excited laugh, unable to contain his anticipation. Vernon begins to stand, but Chan drags him back down, “dude what are you doing?” Vernon struggles in his grip, “Class is about to let up, I need to see them before it’s over.”

The professor shuts her laptop, and begins to clear her desk. She clears her trait before making an announcement, “so, is anyone up for the table-challenge?”

And low and behold, the person Vernon is staring at, raises their hand, “I’ll give it another go.” The boy beside them claps and cheers loudly, causing the rest of the class to celebrate as well. With a shy smile on their face, they face the professor and take a deep breath. The professor counts down, and starts her stopwatch.

“There’s Hydrogen and Helium, then Lithium Beryllium.”

Vernon is in shock, this is the stupidest reason to have a song on repeat. His soulmate, the person whom he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with, tortured him with a song for a stupid challenge. The surprise must be evident on his face, because Chan starts to shake him in the middle of thoughts, “dude, I don’t think they're gonna do it.” Vernon tunes back in, and sees how you're struggling to remember some elements, falling behind in the song.

But like hell would Vernon let you replay that song another thousand times after this.

So what else does he do, he plugs in his headphones, and plays the one song that has tormented him for months. He has the song memorized, and easily finds where you are. He plays it, and watches as your face lights up. Without missing a beat you continue, and a determined gaze washing over your eyes. Vernon looks over at the professor, and sees as a smile glosses over her as well. In order to save time, Vernon skips over the parts of the chorus, and plays the song a little faster, knowing that you’ll be able to keep up.

The moment the timer stops is the exact moment you let out your final breath, and the class erupts in cheers and applause. The boy next to you jumps up and grabs you, hugging you tight into his arms. Chan jumps up as well, practically shaking Vernon out of his seat. The professor, with a smile on her face, gladly erases your name from the failed side of the board, to your belonged spot.

The smile on your face is so bright, Vernon knows that you two have never met prior to this- there is no universe where he would forget a face like yours. And when your eyes connect, there was no fireworks. There was no stoppage of time, but it was like discovering a new favorite song. It was a surge of music- instrumentals, lyrics, strings, winds, and percussion. You, conducting the beat of Vernon’s heart, the composer of it all.

Vernon wasn’t a STEM major, far from it actually.

“Are you sure you have them all memorized,” was the wrong thing to say. Vernon lifts his head from his hands, the glare sent to Seungkwan was enough to make the boy go wide-eyed and sip his drink (an ice-americano because what else) a little harder.

The café, run by an elderly couple, is graced by the sounds of soft instrumentals, with the thought of not further disturbing the customers. Not many students visit the café, a horrible rumor spread throughout the campus of the quality of the food- which was later proven to be false, but the café never recovered. However, it could not keep the group of four boys away.

“Give him some pity,” Mingyu says, taking a bite out of the cream-filled pastry, “I would have gone crazy if someone kept the same song on repeat for hours.”

“But it’s been days,” Chan whispers, leaning in, hands grasping his drink, “maybe they died with their headphones in.”

They all look at him, faces filled with disbelief. While it was common that some people kept certain songs on repeat, it's unheard of that anyone has died with their headphones still on.

Vernon, playing off Chan’s comment, turns to Mingyu, “Listen, when you found your soulmate, what changed?” Mingyu softens, slumping down into his chair, practically letting gravity weigh him down. “It was like, like the world stopped,” he says dreamily, “I remember, I was listening to the Over the Garden Wall soundtrack-” Seungkwan rolls his eyes, “Typical.”

Mingyu stops, eyeing the younger boy, “I was listening to the Over the Garden Wall soundtrack,” he says slower, enunciating every word, eyes glued onto the younger boy. “Is there a problem with that, Seungkwan?”

“No no, continue your story,” he waves Mingyu off. Annoyed, Mingyu slouches back down, “Yeah well, I was listening in math class then, out of the corner of my eye, I see this girl make a cone out of red paper and put it on her head. And when I stopped playing it, she took it off. Then I started it again, and she put it back on.” He lets a light sigh at the memory, a soft smile taking over his features, “I went up to her with my own red cone and the rest is history,” he finishes, popping a macaron in his mouth.

Chan snorts, “You say it so casually, I remember Wonwoo telling me how you were ‘freaking out’ and ‘weren’t ready yet’.” Mingyu slaps him on his shoulder as the rest of the table erupts into laughter.

“Now now, boys,” the elderly woman comes out of the kitchen and next to their table, “we’ll be closing up shop now, don’t want you walking in the dark.” The boys nod their heads, and place their dirty plates and cups on the tray, Chan walking it to the kitchen before she gets the chance to stop him. Ever since the rumor, the café has only been run by Mr. and Mrs. Han. They built the café after they found each other in one in their hometown. Mr. Han had been serving Mrs. Han her coffee, when Princes of The Universe started blasting in his head. He stumbled, dropping the coffee onto the young girl’s books. Apologizing profusely, he noticed a Walkman with A Kind of Magic sitting on the table. Who would’ve thought that the girl doused in light pink, sweetheart clothing, loved 80’s rock.

As of recently, the shop had been only run by Mrs. Han- Mr. Han had come down with a cold that was spreading around. (Chan had once been a victim- the other boys had barricaded him in his room to stop him from going out). The shop’s hours were cut-short. The Han’s refusing to hire any underclassmen who are just starting their college careers, and upperclassmen who wanted nothing to do with the shop.

They also refuse to hire any of the boys.

“You all are going to graduate soon,” Mr. Han said when Mingyu offered to help on his off time, “What’s the point if you all are going to leave in a year.” Yes, it did sound harsh, but the bitter sweet smile on his face said otherwise.

After helping Mrs. Han close all the shades, (they stopped putting up the chairs when they noticed that she couldn’t get them back down without dropping them), they began their trek back to their apartment.

Seungkwan taps Dino, “Look, he’s doing it again.” They turn to Vernon, who slowed down significantly behind them. He doesn’t look angry, but his face is scrunched, and he’s rubbing at his temples through his beanie. He pulls his airpods out of his pocket and places them in, playing a soft instrumental to drown out his headache.

He adores his soulmate, he really does- but there is only so much of this stupid song he can take. If Vernon has the elements memorized, then why shouldn’t his soulmate, who is most likely a STEM major, have it memorized as well? He hates to take it away from them, but the soft piano sounds submerge him in a sea of calm, and he can’t help but feel like he deserves some peace. And if he’s forcing his soulmate to take a break for their current studies, then where is the harm in that.

Vernon is never mean to his soulmate. If he wanted to, he could blast his scrapped instrumentals, or his phase of, what Mingyu likes to call, “transformer sex music” (which was met with Vernon throwing a water bottle at him and dragging the file to the recycle bin). But when the song becomes too much, he’ll play something classical. He wouldn’t consider himself an expert on classical music, he only knows the basics from his music history class, but its the only way he can communicate to his soulmate that enough is enough and to turn that stupid song off.

That night, Vernon sleeps peacefully. His second pair of airpods in (so his daytime ones can charge) bringing not only himself, but his soulmate into a deep slumber.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Your poor soulmate must fucking hate you,” Jun whispers, “I would’ve ripped my ears off if I heard that stupid song for hours on end.”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up and pay attention, the professor said this was gonna be on the test.”

The lecture hall is filled with students and with sounds of rushed typing and lead on paper. The professor is droning on about atomic orbitals and quantum numbers. The chalkboard is covered in numbers, and charts, and The List.

The List is a list of students who have attempted to name every element on the periodic table, all within under a minute. There are two sides to this list, one with people who have passed this trial, and one with those who have failed.

You are on the side of those who failed.

You’ll admit, you were a bit cocky going into it. Confidently raising your hand and putting yourself front and center when naming them. And you didn’t mess up. No, you did not stutter nor did you skip any of these precious elements, but time ran up by the time you got to the Actinides, and your professor, who had a gleam in her eyes from your almost perfect run, sadly put your name under the FAILED label.

Your pride never recovered, and you were too afraid to attempt it again the next class, or the class after that, or the class after that. The next time you were to stand from your desk, you will proudly get your name removed to the proper side (you will also get 5 extra credit points for it, not that you need it, you just wanted to redeem yourself).

But it wasn’t all bad, your friendship with Jun did spark because of your failure. Him having come up to you, giving a comforting pat on the back. “Yeah, I did the same thing last semester. Oh, why am I taking the class again? No, yeah I slept through my final.”

Jun took you to get tea, and then proceeded to recite the entire periodic table in less then a minute right in front of you, smirk on his face the entire time. When you asked how he managed to do that, he gave you the link to a periodic table song. How you’ve never heard of it before still boggles your mind, but now, it’s at the top of your spotify most listened, and it will continue to be until the end of this god forsaken class.

You’re brought back to attention when the teacher shuts off their laptop and announces that the homework will be posted after class. When greeted with the sounds of groans from her students, she gives a heartfelt laugh and promises that it should only take about two hours (which really means it should take about five).

“I just need to be able to get my name moved, then my soulmate can never hear that song again,” you shrug you bag onto your shoulders, “and I do feel a little bad, but when they play those stupid random instrumentals for hours on end, then maybe I don’t feel as bad.” He follows you out of the classroom, joining the sea of kids who all just ended their lectures.

Jun rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well, if I had to unwillingly listen to the same song about the elements I would try to get a little revenge too.”

The two of you walk to your next class together, all that having the same major entails, you won’t be getting rid of Jun for a while and vice versa.

However, and you are walking out of the hall, you fail to notice the student who just transferred into the class. A boy who had finally decided to go into a graduate program where he, unfortunately, had to take chemistry. And while the world only has a rough estimate of the actual speed of dinosaurs, this little dino managed to race back to his friend in record time.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

No matter how many elements Vernon knew (which was all of them), nothing prepared him enough to sit through a two hour lecture on the complexities of chemistry. He found himself sitting, dumbfounded, about everything that was going on. The lively classroom was silenced immediately as soon as the professor walked it. Small in structure, she placed her briefcase down, connected her laptop, and began the lesson.

Ten minutes in, Vernon couldn’t help but turn to Chan, “dude, what am I doing here? Actually, what are you doing here?” Chan turns to him confused, “I need this class for my major?”

“You’re majoring in STEM?”

“Bro, I’ve been in bio-engineering for three years, I just need this class for a good graduate program.”

Vernon turns back to the front board, a little shocked “Oh.”

“Yea oh,” Chan scoffs, “now pay attention the class is almost over.” Chan grabs Vernon’s shoulder and points him in your direction, “now you see them, they're gonna stand and start doing something that’s gonna change your life.”

Vernon looks even more confused, what does he mean they’re gonna ‘change his life?’ How would a random person in a chemistry class change his life? But then Vernon realizes, and sits a little straighter in his seat, trying to get a better look.

Chan gets out an excited laugh, unable to contain his anticipation. Vernon begins to stand, but Chan drags him back down, “dude what are you doing?” Vernon struggles in his grip, “Class is about to let up, I need to see them before it’s over.”

The professor shuts her laptop, and begins to clear her desk. She clears her trait before making an announcement, “so, is anyone up for the table-challenge?”

And low and behold, the person Vernon is staring at, raises their hand, “I’ll give it another go.” The boy beside them claps and cheers loudly, causing the rest of the class to celebrate as well. With a shy smile on their face, they face the professor and take a deep breath. The professor counts down, and starts her stopwatch.

“There’s Hydrogen and Helium, then Lithium Beryllium.”

Vernon is in shock, this is the stupidest reason to have a song on repeat. His soulmate, the person whom he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with, tortured him with a song for a stupid challenge. The surprise must be evident on his face, because Chan starts to shake him in the middle of thoughts, “dude, I don’t think they're gonna do it.” Vernon tunes back in, and sees how you're struggling to remember some elements, falling behind in the song.

But like hell would Vernon let you replay that song another thousand times after this.

So what else does he do, he plugs in his headphones, and plays the one song that has tormented him for months. He has the song memorized, and easily finds where you are. He plays it, and watches as your face lights up. Without missing a beat you continue, and a determined gaze washing over your eyes. Vernon looks over at the professor, and sees as a smile glosses over her as well. In order to save time, Vernon skips over the parts of the chorus, and plays the song a little faster, knowing that you’ll be able to keep up.

The moment the timer stops is the exact moment you let out your final breath, and the class erupts in cheers and applause. The boy next to you jumps up and grabs you, hugging you tight into his arms. Chan jumps up as well, practically shaking Vernon out of his seat. The professor, with a smile on her face, gladly erases your name from the failed side of the board, to your belonged spot.

The smile on your face is so bright, Vernon knows that you two have never met prior to this- there is no universe where he would forget a face like yours. And when your eyes connect, there was no fireworks. There was no stoppage of time, but it was like discovering a new favorite song. It was a surge of music- instrumentals, lyrics, strings, winds, and percussion. You, conducting the beat of Vernon’s heart, the composer of it all.

Vernon wasn’t a STEM major, far from it actually.