𝚂𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎

The feeling was as if it were the biggest event. That may be why people made an event for it. Every young being in the city was gathered in a ballroom, dressed like the Victorian age, arms itching with the urge to see how many minutes were left till the counter on their forearms went to zero, when you could look up and see the eyes of your soulmate sparkling with the same glow as yours. The glow of eternal love.

However, so far, you had no luck.

Was already late at night, and you knew the party would only be over when everybody was matched. Some people had given up on dancing with thousands of strangers, choosing to fill their faces with alcohol and hope their soulmate would be the one to take them home for a wished sleep. However, you still had hope.

You hoped that one of these people spinning with you to the repetitive music would be the one to make your timer go to zero. You hoped to be one of those couples that went out of the ballroom holding hands with no back stare, just the future ahead waiting for you. Even if the chances were almost null.

The system was not foolproof. Statistics show that you could, for sure, find your soulmate there. The city hall had all your information and where to find the still singles whenever they went, but there was nothing anyone could do if the death timer was quicker than love. And it had happened before.

Worse than the heartbreak of seeing happy couples all night is the pain of knowing the love of your life is dead.

You could not imagine yourself in this scenario, as possible as it was. Being a romantic was a trace of your personality; you found it impossible not to have inherited it. After all, you grew up in a family of soulmates who had found themselves at this same dance.

Stories of how your parents, grandparents, and even relatives older than that, folks that probably had started the event, had made part of your life even before you were born, and when you finally acknowledged what that ticking clock on your wrist meant, you couldn't avoid the everlasting dreams of the same happening to you.

Maybe that was what motivated you to keep searching.

Looking for the bright side, many people had already gone home, and the options were tapering with the passing of time, but your feet were hurting and the tiredness of a whole day was getting into you, so maybe it was more prudent to take a time off the dance floor and look out for interesting people. After all, they must be attractive to your eyes too; they were your soulmate.

Approaching the bar, you took the initiative to take your shoes off; the noise of the heels colliding with the wooden floor was completely drowned out by the music and the loud breath of satisfaction you let slide. Soon, the bartender was there, smiling brightly and pulling his sleeves up. He also had a counter, but his numbers went to zero before you could see how long he was waiting.

Like a magnet, you looked at your arm, placing it over the counter as if it weighed a tonne, the thud loud enough to attract his attention. He looked worried, rushing to touch your arm and look for somewhere hurt. The timer passed completely unnoticed by him, which gave him a step back when he could see nothing, just your scared face.

“I'm sorry, ma'am. There's something wrong with you?” his voice was calm, loud enough to be heard over the music, but not too loud to seem like he was screaming. He was truly handsome, with sharp features and small brown eyes. His body was also attractive. Lucky you.

“How long have you been waiting for your soulmate?” you asked, and his surprised face was soon replaced with a scoff.

“Long enough to know is just bullshit.”

“How do you explain the timer then?” was your time to scoff, pointing at the zeros on his forearm. He still did not bother to look at the timer, bending with both arms supported on the bar counter. He was so close to you he could even breathe in your scent.

“Maybe it's the government tracking us and the timer is to show when we will die,” he whispered, truly taking this as a joke.

You could not be mad at him still. Not only had you heard plenty of stories about people who never met their true love, but also his smile, which made his tiny eyes look like little moons, played an important part in making you fall even deeper in love with this stranger.

“Well, I'm sorry to say, San,” you highlighted his name you just read on the plate hanging over his shirt pocket. “But I think you're dying.”

He looked desperate, finally looking at his wrist. His eyes were – finally – wide, and your laugh made him almost forget about the shock of seeing the zeros on his forearm.

San also grew up in a place full of romantic and book-worthy love stories, but he never saw it happening to him. He had been to a couple of these balls in his life, but were always the one who left empty-handed. He looked after his soulmate, but anyone could tell where it went; however, the information that he was one of the lucky ones who could claim the love of his life was not dead wasn't enough to keep the fire of belief still burning.

He gave up on soulmates and, consequently, the timer became a part of him he just ignored every day.

However, seeing it, seeing the zeroes, it all sparked something in him that was drowned so many years ago. He was led to jump over the bar, run onto the stage, and scream to the world he was not only worthy to be happy in love as he was driving into that. However, he did not even know who his soulmate was.

“How long has it been like that?” was his time to ask. His whole behavior changed at that point.

“A couple of minutes, maybe,” was what you said, waiting patiently when he would see the same zeroes on your skin.

“Considering that I'm not dead for several minutes, I guess I'm someone's soulmate. But who?”

“Maybe mine,” you finally said, having the feeling he would never see until you rubbed his face. And that was what you did, raising your arm to his line of vision, so he could see the run-out timer on you too.

The light flicked, and you saw yourself somewhere else: a highway in heavy rain, everything from your hair to your toes damp. It flicked again, and discomfort surged, making your heart thump hard and fast against your rib cage, pushing you to run from whatever seemed to be chasing you.

You felt your bare feet hurt with the sharp pinching of the asphalt against them. However, your fear of being caught outweighed any pain. Your breath was uneven, and the air felt thicker, harder to breathe, so much so that you needed to remember to keep your mouth open for this sole purpose.

Behind you, the thing- monster, or whatever roared loud and distorted, startling you before you tripped, not giving any time to feel the pain of it. You tried to look at your knee and run at the same time, but adrenaline did nothing to help your vision, only seeing a thin strip of hot red liquid tracing down your leg.

Watching how far you had run, you saw a big pool of blood where you'd fallen, with a trail leading back to you. The distorted roar carried on just long enough for the light to flick again, one last time, before you opened your eyes.

Your chest heaved, feeling sticky and burning hot below the covers. Rain aggressively tapped your window that night, and you dared to stare at the clock on your phone. It was still very early in the night, but the storm outside ruined your night of sleep. You pulled your feet out of the bed, slipping them as fast as you could into the fluffy slippers, before jolting in surprise at the thunder noises. You yawned while going to the bathroom, not daring to turn the lights on, just the tap, washing away the sweat from your face. You stayed there, staring at your absolutely tired and devastated face, thinking about what you should do for the rest of the night.

You could wait in your bed until the storm ends, but what if it took you the whole night? You could also use that time to be productive, or even just stay up watching some animated sitcom on Netflix. You could just brush it off and try to sleep; however, that would never be possible with the remains of the nightmare still vivid in your head. However, before you could sort something out, you saw yourself out of the bathroom.

The hallway felt much smaller than you remembered, every doorknob just a fingertip from brushing against your personal space, but when you tried to reach the one in front of you, the little round metal piece looked like it had run far away from you, being just a faint memory by the time you realized the distance. Then, like a falling airplane, one question crashed into your head:

Did you wake up?

You started running again, this time searching for a door as if your life depended on it. The thunder rang again, a small whelp coming out of your partly open lips before you put both hands on top of it. You could feel your heart like it was about to jump from your throat, and your breathing was as frenetic as hot against your sweaty palms. Just then, the spur of light from a bolt of lightning made you realize how dark that hallway was. Were you hallucinating because of the dark?

“(y/n)?” A sweet, melodic voice echoed over the dark, which made you stop breathing altogether. “Are you ok?”

“They’re pale…” Another voice, deeper, quieter, came along, and your heart started to slow down.

You felt a warmth along your arms, and the shadow of hands appeared on both sides. Slowly, human figures started to take shape along with the surrounding space. The faint light of the moon between the thick, gray clouds was fully formed in front of your eyes, and the dots of rain, along with the loud noise of them being stopped by the glass window, were all you could hear for a while until you recognized your breathing was stable.

You were recovering your senses, and the last thing to get back to normal was your vision. You were finally seeing now. You were in the living room, kneeling in the middle of the floor with a blanket over your shoulders. San stood there with you, sat by your side, his broad shoulders over yours, being the radiator of warmth that kept you sane. In front of you, Yeosang was kneeling too, staring at your eyes attentively, a glass of water in the middle of you both.

“Drink it.” He said, simple, calm, excessively different from what his eyes spoke. You took it, the difference between his cold hands and your slippery warm ones too pungent to just ignore it.

“What happened?” San asked, concern dripping from his voice.

“I-“ You stuttered, still very unsure of what had happened. “I wish I knew…” You let the honesty out, eyes focused on the little waver that formed on the surface of the water every time your hands shook a bit stronger.

“It’s ok,” Yeosang assured, pulling a string of hair out of your face. Usually, his frozen touch would make you hiss, but you were feeling your body so hot that the brushing of his fingertips was excessively good to miss out. “Whatever had happened, it’s over now.”

“You’re safe!” San complemented way too loudly for the time being. You let out a scoff, a habit you have taken from Yeosang after all these years of sharing a place. San had also learned that, most of the time, this was the way of both of you saying that he was being extra, but fun.

It was the first time you had felt something like that, though.

You proceeded to explain about your dreams that night, from the one you were sure you were dreaming to the hallucination, and if it was not for the subtle changes of expression of Yeosang and the different levels of gasps you heard from San, you would almost feel like they were not listening at all. When the storytelling ended, both of them let out a hum of acknowledgment, one of the habits they have started to share after the beginning of their friendship.

“Maybe you had a panic attack?” San suggested, still very unsure.

“Makes sense…” Yeosang agreed, looking like he was making mental notes of the points in common between your description and the symptoms of a panic attack.

“Over what?” You let your mental question slip aloud, feeling a little embarrassed over the strong stares both of them threw at you.

The silence kept on while the three of you seemed to think about what was so different about that night to cause such a reaction in you. “The thunderstorm!”

San sounded overly excited again, earning a disapproving stare from Yeosang. That did not last long; Yeosang’s expression relaxed, seemingly agreeing with the statement. So, you were afraid of thunderstorms.

“Good thing we’re here then…” San trailed off, crushing you under his hold. Until that point, you had not noticed, but Yeosang’s fingers were intertwined with yours.