Ong Seongwu | Asymptote [Soulmate!AU] | Next Time
prompt: no one ever said you had to end up with your soulmate.
note: this is 3/11 of an angst series i am working on titled “asymptote” - it refers to a value that one gets closer and closer to, but never actually reaches. in this series, you get as close as you can to your soulmate, but that is not enough for a happy ending.
note #2: this specific story will have an alternate ending! i started writing it with that ending in mind, but i became inspired to include it in my asymptote series because the plot is quite fitting for it. i hope you enjoy reading nevertheless!
Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
—
In the first life, you saw him at the port.
You were attempting to bargain with the sellers for food, hoping to feed your aging parents for the night. Loud noises turned your head from the basket of bread to the boats, where boxes were being shuffled around.
You could hear a laugh. It left your chest with a strange sensation, something akin to hope. Hope was something unheard of for someone of your life and you knew you needed to follow the force that was making you feel this way.
From afar, you could see a gentleman’s back. You watched as he tipped his hat to a few people and walked towards the biggest ship. You tore yourself away from the market area and scurried to the boat. Water and an inability to swim, however, proved to be bigger boundaries than expected. All you could do was look up.
Another male came out of one of the ship’s grand doors, his eyes searching the incoming stream of the rich and famous until they landed on your mystery man. The former laughed cheerily and practically skipped to him, giving your hope personified an energetic handshake.
You could make out some words by reading the man’s lips: apparently this new man was the owner of the ship and was delighted to welcome the gentleman aboard. However, as hard as you tried, you just couldn’t seem to get a glance of your mystery man’s face. The two men exchanged a brief hug and then walked further into the ship.
There he was, on a ship to a world you wouldn’t even let yourself dream of. You didn’t see his face then, but as he turned to the city for one last look, the sunlight shone on three little beauty marks that practically glowed to get your attention. Closing your eyes, you allowed the tiny dots to imprint their image in your mind for the rest of your lifetime.
That life passed rather uneventfully and you were onto the next. It flew by but time seemed to slow down the second you brought your sibling to the hospital for a harsh cough.
He was your sibling’s attending doctor. He worked at the hospital. Finally, you thought to yourself, we’ll end up together in this life. He had no reason to leave this time.
—
But you did.
Soon enough, you got the infection that took your sibling’s life. Your doctor, your beautiful, beautiful doctor, asked if you wanted to be discharged so you could pass away in the place of your choosing.
“Sure,” you had answered, “but only if you’re next to me as I go.”
He didn’t want to attach himself. But he also knew there was something about the way you looked at him that made him try his hardest to save you. He worked day and night, trying desperately to discover the cure for your illness. His fellow doctors praised him for his dedication to humanity, but they had no idea that he could not care less for anyone other than you.
Time was no friend of his in that life. But as you held his cheek in your palm for the first and last time, your thumb lightly caressing his constellation, he whispered that it’d be his turn to look for you next.
And so he did, dating recklessly in order to feel even an ounce of what you made him feel in the few days you spent together. By 30 years old, he had given up that dream, hoping that he’d find you in another life. He married and started a family, wondering if the next version of him would be luckier than himself.
When his wife entered labor unexpectedly, her original doctor was out of town. Quite honestly, he always thought that doctor was too rude and careless anyway. But the replacement left him too distracted to even pay attention to the birth of his second child.
As his wife screamed cries of agony, probably cursing his name, all he could do was watch your eyes peeking from your surgical mask. You were so focused, so beautiful. The moment you entered the room, that feeling he had tried so hard to recreate came back in full force. When you introduced yourself, he saw how you recognized him by the way your eyes traced his moles.
You had found each other once more.
While the nurses attended to his wife, you personally handed him his freshly cleaned newborn. But, as shameful as it is to admit it, the slight brush of your hand against his as you gently placed his baby girl into his arms was what made his world finally feel complete.
His wife was busying herself with their newborn when he finally got the chance to talk to you. He chased after you after you bowed your goodbye, not willing to let you go just yet. “Excuse me!” He called out and you tried to ignore him, you really did, but the pull of your bond stopped your feet before you could tell them to go on.
You slowly turned around and met his eyes for yet another first time. “Is there something wrong with your wife?” You didn’t mean for the words to sound so biting, but you couldn’t help but feel bitter. You had been searching for him for years, even taking up a job as a doctor in the case that you’d find him in the hospital in this life instead. And you did - but not under the circumstances you wanted.
“No, uh,” Ong stuttered, “She’s fine. I just wanted to talk? I have some questions that I wanted to ask you.”
“Your child is doing okay too?”
“Of course, she’s beautiful.”
Maybe it was something in his voice when he said that - so soft, yet so loving. Your bitterness started to seep away and you felt your heart constrict as it turned into pure longing. You wondered if maybe in the next life it would be used to describe your own child.
As you were getting lost in your own thoughts, Ong reached out to gently shake your arm to get your attention. The feeling that sparked through your body at that touch shot memories of your previous lives through your mind.
“Are you okay though? I think you know who I am...”
“...You’re Ong Seongwu.”
“I am...”
“And you have a wife and children.”
The eyes that you had seen light up so confidently in every other life wavered at your words. He knew that it was wrong to feel such longing for you. He knew that it was selfish to want to abandon everything he knew in that life to pursue the one he had been looking for centuries with you. But you also understood his pain. You also wished that this wasn’t how things went.
“Yeah, and I know who you are too.”
“...I’m your wife’s doctor. And I’m about to take my lunch break, so if you’ll excuse me...”
“Okay, maybe next time then.” He stared at you in a way you wished you could understand.
You gave a sad smile and stared at his constellation, closing your eyes briefly. You made a wish on the stars adorning his cheek, your moments together always did fly by quicker than any shooting star.
When you opened your eyes again, all you could see was his back as he returned to a life without you while your wish replayed in your head,
“Please let it be next time.”
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This one’s for the writers who get ignored.
This one’s for the writers who get a maximum of two notes, both of them reblogs by you.
This one’s for the writers who feel like giving up. (Don’t.)
This one’s for the writers who didn’t get any messages on the 21st. (or any other time)
This one’s for the writers who don’t get tagged.
This one’s for the writers who don’t get recommended.
This one’s for the writers who have the courage to keep going even when you get little to no feedback.
This one’s for the writers who don’t get curious anons.
This one’s for the writers who write amazing things and get hate because of it.
This one’s for the writers who are learning English as a second language.
This one’s for you.
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