Michael Kaiser — Stench
PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader
WORD COUNT: 9k
TYPE: Angst, Childhood friends, Making up, occasionally funny
WARNING(S): Poverty, implied/referenced child abuse, house break-in, spoilers for Kaiser's backstory, if I missed something lmk
NOTE(S): This is a two shot but I'm posting it here combined for my own convenience. The numerals show how the chapters are separated and indicates a long time skip.
I.
Someone’s coming closer and closer. It’s hard to catch Kaiser off guard — he’s sensitive to the slightest of sounds, so he can hear them approaching from behind without trouble, these sloppy footsteps slapping against the cement as if the owner is wearing really shitty shoes. He freezes with the ball still in his hands, doesn’t dare look back and check who it is, an irrational part of his brain suspecting it to be his father.
It takes a while for whoever it is to cross the distance, and then an unfamiliar voice rings, “Hey.”
Kaiser glances over his shoulder finally. You stand there, peering down at him while he’s sitting, cigarette spreading fumes in the air even though you don’t look any older than him. He doesn’t say anything to acknowledge you, though, just stares, tense and confused about your intentions.
You crouch down so you are at eye level with him. The bad smell follows, wafting by his nose and he holds down a cough on the off chance any noise might set you off and make you violent. You pull it out of your mouth and flick it away from him, apparently possessing enough decorum to stop blowing smoke in his face. “Why are you always doing that?”
“Huh?”
Kaiser knows what you mean, but he can’t help asking. After all he’d noticed you before all those times just like you’d noticed him. Every day you hang around the solitary playground at a distance while he messes around with the ball, though he never expected you’d speak to him. If anything you never pay much mind to each other.
You usually leave like you’re on some kind of schedule, but you’re up close to him now and he can see you’re in a similar condition to him — bruises and dirt littering your skin, tattered and ill-fitting clothes barely hanging onto your frame. The offenders behind your loud entrance he identifies as the torn pink fuzzy slippers he always sees you wearing, smeared with faded mud. Certainly not the most reliable footwear, but you’re in a better boat than he is on that front, what with him not wearing any shoes at all. Not his fault he outgrew his last pair, although naturally his father found a way to blame him. He’s creative like that.
“You’re always kicking the ball and punching the shit outta it.”
Embarrassed by the reasoning behind his behavior maybe, Kaiser averts his eyes. He hopes not responding will dissuade you from interacting with him.
It doesn’t work. “What’s your name?”
“… Michael.”
“So basic, but fine. I’ll call you Micha, ok?”
“You don’t need to call me anything.”
You offer your name in return. After taking another drag, you smile and ask, “How old are you?”
“Thirteen,” he says, figuring this is unimportant enough information that he can offer it without consequences until you grow bored and go away.
You grin at him and squint your eyes. The expression makes you seem smug for no discernible reason. “I’m fourteen, so I’m your senior. You can call me boss if you want. Got it, small fry?”
What an annoying attitude. He places the ball over his stomach and adjusts his position so he’s hugging his knees, this surly expression on his face. “It’s not even that big of a difference…”
“You sound so pensive when you talk. Hey, why do you kick the ball even though you don’t have shoes? Doesn’t it hurt?”
What else is someone supposed to do with a piece of trash except hurt it? Expressing such a sentiment out loud seems shameful, though. “Why are you smoking even when it’s bad for you and stupid and tacky? Why are you asking dumb questions even though you’re not getting anything out of it?”
You burst out laughing. “Woah, relax. Touchy.” When he doesn’t respond and instead continues scrutinizing you with scorn (which at this point you deem undeserved), you say, “I stole ‘em off someone. What’s stopping you from stealing a pair of shoes?”
“They’re too big to steal. It’s impractical.”
“You think small, but fair enough,” you say, before standing up, still grinning. Then you wave. “I’ve gotta go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Micha.”
“Who said I want to see you?”
You laugh again as if his rejection is funny, but trudge on away from him. “C’mon, lighten up.”
Kaiser scoffs, pressing his cheek against the ball, tightening his hold against it. There is nothing to lighten up about.
___
Kaiser hasn’t taken any particular liking towards you, but you do hang out together every day since you approached him. He’s not sure why he tolerates your presence. Maybe because you’re resourceful — stealing is so much easier when you two coordinate. Or maybe it’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t seem to want to strike him down and strangle him.
Currently you’re at the playground again. The lighter you use has some ugly, childish print on it. Kaiser is trying to inflate his ball with the air pump you swiped together from a shop in town earlier after you made fun of how ‘sad and flat’ it was and came up with the idea. When he hears the flicker and then registers the smell, Kaiser asks, “How many do you smoke a day?”
“One is to be stylish. Two is if I didn’t appreciate the first one enough. Three is if I still don’t feel like shitting.”
Kaiser frowns in disapproval at the moronic remark. Funny in an ironic sort of way how this lifestyle has you sounding like a ridiculous, fake adult — neither child nor mature, but something else entirely. A different category of human. He wonders if you think the same about him. “You fucking smell. How many are there in a pack?”
“Twenty,” you say after uselessly flipping over the lid, even though for one it’s not full and you already know the answer anyway, so it’s not necessary to check.
“So if you smoke three a day then you have to… steal one every two weeks?”
You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at this assessment. “No, that’s not right. It’s like once or twice a week depending.” Then you do some weird counting on your fingers for a while. “But even if it was exactly three a week, that’s like six point six or some shit like that. Dummy.”
“Shut up, shithead,” says Kaiser, embarrassed.
“Ok.”
“Leave me alone. I didn’t think about it too much.”
“I’m not even saying anything.” A moment of silence passes until an enlightened remark comes to mind. “Hey, Micha.”
“What?”
You scoot a little closer to him. Kaiser gets nervous at first and freezes, but calms down when it seems you’re not inching your hands towards him. Though the relief is short-lived because then you take an exaggerated sniff of the air and grin. “You stink too.”
He glares at you.
The ball ends up fine. Sure, it’s still beat up and dirty as most things around him, but at least it’s functional enough to kick again, and that’s what’s important.
___
“What now,” says Kaiser with an attitude of being greatly inconvenienced before plopping down next to you on the sidewalk.
You continue counting, trying to keep track of how much money you have on you. A series of gross, dry coughs escapes your mouth. When the fit near passes, you spit on the ground as if to ease your throat, hitting your chest for good measure. Kaiser watches the display with an impassive look on his face. Eventually you turn towards him and ask, “What’s your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Ok.”
“You’ve been quiet, not talking to me.”
“I’m gonna go get a haircut so I’m trying to see if I have enough,” you say, figuring he’s wondering about what you’re doing in a roundabout way.
Kaiser rams his head into his knees and makes some kind of noise which you can’t categorize between acknowledgement and disapproval.
You say, “Those children from the schoolyard were telling me having a bad haircut is ‘social suicide.’ Like ��getting stabbed’ everyday. Apparently it’s the bowlcut that’s really shameful.”
“Other people have such stupid problems,” he says, irked, resentful. “I just cut it with scissors at home.”
“Yeah, man, I can tell. They wash your hair at the hairdresser though, so I wanna go now.”
“You really hang out with them? What do you even talk about?”
You shrug, pulling out a cigarette and then the hideous lighter. The smoke will waft by his nose again and irritate him. It’s unpleasant. The smell he associates with you is unpleasant, but it’s also yours so it’s kind of conflicting. “Recently I’ve been telling them I’m a ghost from the forest.”
Kaiser remains unamused the way you’ve always known him, but after some contemplation graces you with a snort, which makes you smile in return. He asks, “They don’t believe that. Right?”
“Maybe. They’ve got a what-do-you-call-it… You like football, don’t you?”
“A pitch.” He rolls his eyes as if forgetting the word is some kind of crime. Back he goes to frowning.
“Yea, they have that. You should sneak in with me sometime.” You shrug again as if the suggestion isn’t a big deal. “It’s fun.”
His nose scrunches at the thought, forehead wrinkling. It pisses him off just imagining it — truly a sickening concept. Why would you subject yourself to such a thing? Mingling with children who have nice things and an education and clean clothes and probably eat proper meals every night with their families. He doesn’t want to exchange pleasantries with people who can afford to concern themselves with social suicide. Stomach twisted in knots, Kaiser almost hurls, but somehow swallows the bile back down.
“Never,” he denies with finality.
“So dramatic, Micha.”
“Like you’re any better. You don’t care about anything. At all.”
At the sound of his tone getting more sulky than usual, you decide to spare him another glance. “Aww, are you tearing up?”
“No,” Kaiser lies, lips wavering. Unable to hold it in yet desperate to hide, he settles for covering his face with his hands, folding over himself. “I just fucking… hate this place. And I want out so… so bad.” Aside from the muffled sobs, there are also voice cracks littering his admission.
The thing is: you don’t really know what to do to make it all better.
___
Kaiser feels like he’s about to get a cramp from keeping his leg in this position for so long, lifted up and extended. Recently he stole a pair of sneakers from the thrift store, but the soles ended up falling off. Now you’re lathering everything in glue and wrapping it in tape in an attempt to salvage the situation.
“I’m not sure this is how it works,” he says. It’s kind of meek — a pathetic mumble — but you can recognize unwarranted criticism when you hear it.
“Take it or leave it.” You snap off the tape and move onto the next shoe.
When a snarky or otherwise offensive response doesn’t immediately come to mind, Kaiser resigns to silence. He continues observing you while you squeeze out copious amounts of glue. For a moment the only noises between you are those of your sniffles, the obnoxious huffing in of snot.
A few raindrops pour down, pelting your heads at the same time. You hiss when you realize your hard work is about to go to waste while all Kaiser provides in terms of reaction is a blink and a downwards twist of his lips.
“I don’t wanna go home,” you say, sounding distant, which he doesn’t hear from you much — usually there’s a lilt of amusement in your tone, some kind of playfulness lingering in all your words.
“I don’t either. It’s pointless anyway because you’ll get drenched by the time you go home and then there’s nothing to dry yourself with properly and it’s all one huge pain in the ass.”
“Right.” After signaling your agreement with his assessment, you shrug off your hoodie and stretch, trying to drape it enough so that it shields the two of you from the rain. Kaiser accommodates your goodwill by adjusting his position, scooting over next to you and cramming so he’s taking as little space as possible. It’s not an adequate cover by any means and you can tell his shoes will break apart again. But Kaiser is hugging you around the waist, resting his cheek against your neck, and you don’t have to deal with being at your place yet, so it can’t be all that bad.
___
“You look like a pufferfish,” you say unhelpfully.
Kaiser narrows his eyes at you in that way he tends to do which you haven’t seen anyone else replicate exactly. It’s kind of amusing when he does that, especially when one of them is irritated and droopy. “And you look like a spoiled apple.”
“Don’t mind. It’s a lot of bad things happening to me in that house.”
“I know,” says Kaiser.
You rub your cheek and then some more under your eye where the spots are the brightest. It makes him wince because your hands must be dirty, what with everything you two get up to in a day. Since Kaiser’s father strangles him, he’s always swollen and not so much bruised, but he thinks your parents must only leave it at punches while making up for it with enthusiasm. “I kinda like touching them when some time passes.”
“You’re sick.”
“Honestly I was, but it went away. I think I might have an ingrown toenail though.”
“No… I mean in the head.” To emphasize his point, Kaiser reaches out to probe your temple with his index finger. There’s another scratch blooming there, only coming to attention once his focus lands there, but it’s a waste of energy fixating on any of the small ones — he just can’t help but notice sometimes. “By the way, I don’t need to know what kind of toenail you have.”
You laugh, apparently finding his remark funny somehow. Then you reel your hand back before bringing it back down quickly as if you’re about to slap him. Still retaining his common sense, Kaiser flinches and tries to defend himself with his forearm. The reflex is foreign since he usually takes it lying down without moving an inch when it’s his dad.
His reaction makes you laugh harder for some reason, and you don’t smack him at all. Kaiser glares at you for your unfunny prank but you disregard it. Your hands settle around his throat instead, lightly tracing over the purple fingerprints, still fresh from last night. Almost immediately he clenches his teeth, tightlipped, breaking out into a sweat, expecting a harsh squeeze which never comes.
Kaiser wants to scold you for your idiotic behavior, yet he doesn’t. Maybe your hands aren’t for harm, he decides. And then he reaches out too, pressing his knuckle against the darkest contusion on your face. Your eye twitches closed. It turns into a strange fascination then, your skin touching his and his touching yours in places others had hurt. A ritualistic erasement.
___
You’re splitting the money again after selling off another valuable. It was some kind of fancy watch you two stole this time, more ballsy than usual. Once you pocket your share, you ask, “Are you saving up?”
“Yeah.”
“You wanna move? Where?”
Kaiser shrugs. “I don’t care. Anywhere but here.”
You hum and walk ahead of him, probably looking for one of the drinking fountains in the area.
Either compelled by unusual curiosity or bothered by your silence, he says, “You wanna make it the fuck out of here too. Where would you go?”
“To the beach.”
Kaiser rolls his eyes behind your back, finding your answer stupid. Sure, the beach is an exotic idea considering he has never been to one, but all he can imagine is the sand sticking to his skin and the gross seaweed he’s seen in commercials inside stores and such. But on second thought both of these things are probably way less gross than the environment he spends every day in. He lets out a performative huff anyway and says ‘huh’ as if to demand an elaboration.
“I wanna be free like one of those seagulls that fly over the sea. D’you wanna be a seagull with me, Micha?”
“No. That’s dumb,” he says. You ignore him. Kaiser steels his nerves for a second and, after a dry swallow, takes a step so that he’s walking next to you rather than lagging behind. Then he brushes his fingers against yours lightly before making a sweaty, half hearted attempt at holding your hand. His cheeks are warm in a way he hasn’t felt them before. “Take me to your shitty beach someday.”
You make a more competent attempt at hand holding, grasping his fingers in yours until they’re interlacing, and then you swing your arms up and down. Kaiser has enough sense to be embarrassed by this, but doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t know why, but this is the kind of contact he feels the need to savor. “So you do want to be a seagull.”
“Not interested.”
“You’re such a sourpuss, Micha, never playing along with anything.”
“It’s not my fault you make it sound dumb- Well, do you think it’s any use? Hoping for something like that…”
“Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”
“I won’t give up,” he says. “I just don’t know if it’ll work.”
“Come on. We’re gonna get out of here together someday. That’s gotta work.” You lift his arm in the air next and try to make him spin like a dancer. Though Kaiser is used to standing still and limp and letting things happen to him, the attempt doesn’t come out successful. At most he does a slight twist.
“Yeah. Together,” he agrees, like a promise. He imagines messing around with you in the sand with the sun warming his skin in contrast to the perpetual chill he’s become used to. Honestly despite belittling the idea earlier, it doesn’t seem so bad in his mind.
___
Kaiser yawns while sitting next to you on a bench, eating a burger. Since you’re famous for your generosity and kindness and all (not), you decided to ‘splurge out’ by buying food for you both from some shitty hole in the wall. It’s the most filling meal you’ve had in a while. You’re still chewing when you ask, “Are you tired or something?”
He rubs his eyes. “My father was fucking making noises throwing up all night.”
“Ah, your worthless sperm donor.” You nod sagely in acknowledgement.
“Yea, him. It reeked too and when I went to clean it, there were whole chunks in his vomit.”
You scoff. “Don’t clean after him.”
“Not like anyone’s going to clean it if I don’t.” Two more yawns accentuate his sentence. You reach out to throw away the container. For a second you consider keeping the plastic cutlery and maybe washing it at the drinking fountain later, but that seems too desperate even for you. Kaiser says, “I’d take a nap right now if I could, but I don’t want to go back yet.”
“It’s sunny today for the first time in a while. Would be a waste.” You watch Kaiser while he wipes his mouth and his fingers with the napkin. The dark circles around his eyes are worse than usual. “You can lie down on me and sleep if you want.”
“Huh? Really?”
“Yea, it’ll probably be really boring, but I’ll tolerate it,” you allow, ever so charitable.
Kaiser frowns, contemplating. He’s silent for so long, you forget you even suggested anything, but he eventually shifts around and rests his head on your lap, tense. You rake your fingers through his hair. “Don’t smoke,” he warns, but it’s kind of difficult to act butthurt when you’re being so… gentle with him.
“I won’t.”
“Seriously, don’t smoke right now.”
“I said ok already.”
Now that the matter is settled, he decides to trust you and flutters his eyes closed. Though your thighs and the bench aren’t the most comfortable places in the world, to Kaiser who only knows the cold hard floor, such an opportunity is borderline luxurious. The tang of the cigarettes clings even to the fabric of your pants, to your fingers — his favorite smell. You continue stroking his scalp and he dozes off with ease within minutes. Even though he’s snoring already, he moves to wrap his arms around your knee as if he feels a compulsive need to hold onto something in his sleep.
Kaiser looks surprisingly peaceful and precious right now. You hope he’s having a nice dream if any. A long stretch of ennui is ahead of you.
___
The antics have been ramping up as of late. In your defense, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to resist urging Kaiser to break in with you when you noticed the house with the open first floor window, clearly vacant. Though at first he displayed kleptomaniacal tendencies and wanted to rummage through the drawers for anything expensive, you deemed it too risky since you had no idea when the owner would come back. And then you told him you were merely interested in taking a proper shower.
Now you’re almost dry, waiting for Kaiser to finish. You can’t remember the last time you were so free of grime. Wearing the old clothes again almost feels shameful, like a step back. You sniff your armpit like a weirdo and realize your skin smells good .
Kaiser takes a while to come out and emerges looking like he underwent some kind of magical girl transformation. He’s trying to soak up the water from his hair with a towel, sending specks flying everywhere and dripping down his shirt when you blurt out, “You’re handsome.”
In a fashion you’d consider comedic, he stops dead in his tracks to gape at you with flushed cheeks. “What?”
“Your face is pretty.” He blinks. A crease appears on his forehead in apparent disapproval, though you’re not sure what he’s mad about (it’s a compliment!), especially when he’s still blushing. You make a vague hand gesture near your head to clarify your next point, “Try untangling it with your fingers.”
It takes Kaiser a good few seconds to get with the program before he twitches to attempt and follow your advice, but you both freeze when you detect the unmistakable sound of a door closing and locking downstairs. You push him back into the bathroom and close it behind yourself as gently as possible. Then you drag him back to the tub and gesticulate incomprehensibly some more to signal you should both get in and hide before sliding in behind the curtain and reclining on your side. Kaiser follows after you, but you think you might be doomed. It’s still wet, too, which is unpleasant, but not a priority considering the upcoming disaster.
Kaiser opens his mouth to speak, so you clamp it shut with your palm before putting your index finger over your lips. He embraces you, and he’s trembling, and then he hides in your neck as if you’re going to save him from whatever is about to come.
Like you’d assumed, the house owner enters almost immediately. You’re nauseous, stomach clenching. Kaiser is making a stunning impression of a corpse the way he’s not even breathing anymore in his attempt at being quiet. Your muscles are so tense on alert that it hurts and each passing second puts you more on edge.
Thankfully the flush comes and then the running water and then the person leaves with a click. Their footsteps get fainter and fainter until another door opens and closes. You stand and step out, trying not to make a noise still. Before going out into the hallway you throw a glance over your shoulder just to make sure Kaiser is still walking behind you, which he is.
Your movements are slow and light. The escape, especially while making your way down the stairs, is drawn out and excruciating. You hop out through the window you came in from. There you are outside, somehow without incident.
You turn to look at Kaiser again once you hear the rustle of the grass accompanying his jump. With the adrenaline still kicking, you break out into a sprint, eager to get far away. Kaiser catches up to you and you burst out laughing but you’re not even sure why, since you don’t find any of what transpired particularly amusing. A slight smile appears on his face when he recognizes the sound.
___
The next day you notice Kaiser isn’t at the playground, even though he always gets there before you do. No biggie — you can exert some patience.
After a while you start tapping your foot. It’s not like you have a watch to check what the time is or how long it’s been or a phone to ask him where he’s at. So you settle on putting on a show of irritability.
Nothing. Your legs hurt so you go sit down on the swing. You’re getting pretty old for the playground anyway, you think as you pull out a cigarette and light it, eyes darting around. Parents and their children, but no sign of Micha.
You exceed your usual three and end up burning half the pack in your attempt to occupy yourself during your waiting. It relaxes you usually, smoking, when you have a lot of shit juggling around your brain, but it doesn’t work this time.
Did something happen?
… Did his dad finally kill him?
___
Kaiser doesn’t show up at the playground ever again no matter how many times you go.
___
It’s another day where you need to shield your eyes from the sunlight with your hand. You’ve been seeing more of those since you ran away. Must be allegorical or some shit.
From your peripheral vision, while you walk down the street, you pass by a store that has one of those TVs on display, playing a sports game. You spare a moment to look, intrigued, nostalgic in a way — it reminds you of when you were little, when that kind of thing was more common.
They’re playing football, you realize, and you find that evocative too. Some guy scores a goal and they zoom in on him even though he’s not celebrating, instead choosing to stand there like a statue with his arms crossed. Like he’s too cool to get excited, which strikes you as obnoxious.
Then they show his face in full, up front.
You know that face. You’d recognize that face anywhere.
The back of his jersey reads ‘Kaiser’ and yet you never knew him as anything besides his first name.
At first you’re relieved considering you were under the impression catastrophe must’ve befallen him, but the solace doesn’t last long. When the realization hits, your eyes widen and your lips fall into a thin line. It's similar to a punch in the gut how all the air seems to vacate your chest. All this wind around you and you can’t get any.
The only person you ever loved left you behind without a second glance in your direction.
___
II.
Michael Kaiser is mildly inconvenienced. Billions injured on the scene and millions more will die.
So maybe he’s been ranting at someone who he didn’t even glance at, eyes closed, mind way too lost in his reverie. A part of his brain doesn’t even comprehend he’s in fact speaking to a person instead of a cardboard cutout. It’s to his complete shock and bafflement when after so much babbling he receives a reply. “Hey, Mr. Kaiser was it? Shut the fuck up.”
He flutters his eyes open to give the ingrate a glare and speak his mind some more, but he freezes on the spot at the sight in front of him. His blood runs cold, heart stuttering in his chest.
He’d know that face anywhere, even if right now it’s more unamused and neutral — nothing like the expressions in his memories. He’s not sure why his body is reacting like this either, tensing up with a nervous jitter in his system.
Wasn’t he supposed to have left all that stuff in the past? Yet a single look at you is enough to cause this response: this uncertainty, like he’s still a little boy who veers towards hopeless and incompetent, and fuck, why are you giving him such a dead stare?
Do you not recognize him?
Do you not love him anymore?
It’s a rash thing to focus on as his immediate concern especially when he hasn’t been killing himself with worry over you or anything during your years apart, but right now when you’re in front of him it’s all he wants to know. Which is cruel and selfish in a way, in his specific Kaiser-ish way, how he’s first preoccupied with himself before he wonders about your state of mind or living situation. A need to bait for a sign you still care about him torments him even if it might be drastic right off the bat.
When no ingenious idea for such a thing comes to mind and Kaiser realizes he’s been staring at you like a moron, he says, “Don’t call me Mr. Kaiser. It makes me sound old and decrepit.” And that isn’t what you of all people should be referring to him as.
You continue assessing him in a manner which can be described as judgmental at best. “Isn’t that what you said your name is during your little monologue?”
“You already know what my name is.” The awkward silence which follows is almost unbearable. Kaiser scratches himself on the neck even though he’s not itchy just to pass the time. Finally he snaps, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
“Sorry to break it to you, sir, but most employees anywhere aren’t happy to listen to ten minute long demented tirades about non-problems.”
“Well maybe I overreacted a little,” concedes Kaiser and gives you what he thinks is a suave smile in an attempt at downplaying how uneasy he is. He thinks you can feel it. He thinks you’re doing it on purpose, hurting him with intention. “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know me?”
Your pitiless gaze sticks to him like glue even when you take out the ice cubes and throw a generous amount into his drink before sticking a paper parasol in it with lots of spite, which is what the big stink he threw a tantrum over was all about. Kaiser wants to tell you that you’re very hot when you’re no longer a starving punching bag, but thinks better of it. Doesn’t seem charming even coming from him.
“There.” You slide the cup across the counter towards him. “I fixed your shitty smoothie.”
“It’s not a smoothie!”
“A mocktail is basically juice.”
Wrapping his fingers around it, Kaiser doesn’t leave. Instead he chooses to stay and observe you in silence, jaw clenching.
“You can go.”
“I’m not going until you admit you know who I am.”
“What, are you famous or something?” you ask, bemused.
Kaiser is on the cusp of hypertension because you’re doing it on purpose and you’re not even doing it well because you want him perfectly aware of what you’re up to. You’ve never done this — hurt him before, let alone by design — so Kaiser almost assumed you were incapable of it. Though it makes sense that you are. After all, you’re the same type of inhuman he is, and he’s done this if not worse hundreds of times, and even reveled in it. Yet the realization you’re not what he remembers of you stirs disillusionment within him. The nature of it, he doesn’t quite grasp.
Kaiser contemplates causing a scene more than he already has, but he’s not sure how to do so while still getting what he wants. Trying to joke even though above all he wants to throw a tantrum, he whines, “You’re so immature.”
“I’m sorry that my reaction to getting threatened with a lawsuit over ice cubes was immature, Mr. Kaiser.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about!”
Your exterior remains listless and vacant, and Kaiser wants to scream the longer you scrutinize him in this manner. Eventually you spin your finger near your temple as if to call him delusional, then move onto taking the order of someone else.
His eyes narrow until you’re so blurry he can barely see you, perhaps either to censor you from his sight or because a milder expression wouldn’t suffice in communicating his disdain. With a final grit of his teeth and maybe a visible vein on his forehead, Kaiser stands up to leave. Fine. You win this one, but it’s war now.
The scorch of the sand under his feet startles him. He kind of forgot how hot it was, what with getting so distracted. Another comeuppance on a list of many. Today is punishment.
Dramatic inner soliloquy aside, Kaiser makes it back to the beach bed quickly, still reeling over that interaction. You’re here? You’re here, in front of him again, and apparently you’re not too happy to see him.
In the most disinterested tone he can muster, Sae asks, “Did they fix your smoothie?”
“It’s not a fucking smoothie!” With the grace of a lobotomized koala, Kaiser drops it over the small table separating them and barely resists the urge to hurl it at Sae. This would do wonders for his mental health short term, but again he’s trying to feign decorum.
With his trademark deadpan, Sae pretends none of that just happened. Kaiser turns around to look back at the hotel bar where you’re gesticulating at your coworker. Both of you seem immensely annoyed, wild and animated while you converse.
“Fuck, they’re totally complaining about me.”
Sae follows the line of direction through which Kaiser is stalking you. After a few seconds of analysis, he says, “Those are definitely the ‘this shit stain just threatened to sue me,’ ‘wow, really, what the hell’ faces.”
Kaiser snaps his head to look at him with genuine surprise. “What- How’d you know?”
“... You’re so embarrassing, it’s predictable.”
“And you’re annoying,” he says. “I’ll tell Coach to get rid of you and airdrop me Ness.”
“It’s cute that you think the coach cares about your opinion on me enough to replace me. The same as thinking the strippers at the club like you, in a way.”
There is a while of silence where Kaiser’s just snarling while Sae seems like he couldn’t give less of a shit. Then he adds his finisher,
“Or I guess in your case it’s like thinking the bartender actually cares about your order.”
Oh, fuck this vacation.
___
The heat is unbearable.
You step out into the sun and saunter up the wooden path to take your break away from the beach. Sweat has been exuding from your skin for the last few hours. Even so when you make it to the sidewalk, you keep your eyes trained on the scenery as you trudge on to your destination. The sand, the sea, the plants — some natural and some artificial.
Before long your legs take you to your usual street vendor, where you’ll order a shitty pancake that won’t do much to nourish you, but it’ll be so sweet that you’ll be too nauseous to get hungry for a while. The queue isn’t unbearable.
Not until you sense someone hovering behind you, followed up by a hand settling on your shoulder. You turn around to grace the offender with a disgusted side glance, but you’re so baffled to see Kaiser there, you just… freeze.
He’s sneering at you. In fact he looks so happy with himself, you want to vomit. Preferably on him.
“What a coincidence,” he says without even a sliver of shame.
You roll your eyes and face front again, deciding it’s in your best interest to feign ignorance to his existence. Taking this as a sign to elevate the antics to a more obnoxious level, Kaiser resigns himself to the role of one of those domesticated leeches, hanging off you now, fully wrapping his arm around your shoulders. His gaze is burning into your side profile to the point it’s unnerving and you can feel the artificial smugness emanating from his form.
“I thought we were done talking yesterday.”
“Really? You did? How naive,” he coos at you mockingly.
It is convenient that during this time of need — when you’re lacking a good comeback — your time to order comes up. You talk to the guy working about your aforementioned shitty pancake. The moment you shut your mouth, however, Kaiser starts listing off things you’re not even keeping track of like you’re hanging out together or something.
With a mild dispute over whether it’s ‘backwards’ that they do not accept payment through a card, which makes you want to die because you’re a regular here and now the employee who knows you by face will associate you with this pest, Kaiser pays for your thing, too. On the one hand you’re prideful, but on the other you’ve lived the life of a bottomfeeder who takes every scrap they’re given without question, and it’s the kind of conditioning you can’t let go of. So you allow it.
He ends up with an inordinate amount of food in his hands, too much for one person to eat. You’re still doing your ignoring shtick even when Kaiser pulls you down to sit next to him on the table. Content with pretending he doesn’t exist as he is dead to you, you bite onto your food in relative peace, mind drifting somewhere else. Until he speaks that is. “This must be our fateful meeting.”
“I don’t see what’s so fateful about it if you followed me?”
Unbeknownst to you, Kaiser too is adept at the ‘hearing only what he wants to hear’ game. So he moves on with the conversation without any indicator of comprehending what you just said. “I think it’s quite ironic, actually.”
“What are you on about now?”
“You told me you want to go to the beach once. And where do I find you? On the beach. It's an astral influence, I’m sure.”
“Ah? I don’t remember telling you that.”
You’re blinking at him in mild confusion. This hurts Kaiser a hundred times more than when you were deliberately going out of your way to act dismissive of him because he can tell you mean it. To think one of the moments he clung onto the most had slipped your mind.
His eyes are wide and his lips stand still in a thin line, so he forces himself to smirk again and glosses over the information which just shattered him. “So you admit you know me then?”
“No, Mr. Kaiser, I have no idea who you are. I’m thinking you should admit yourself to a hospital. They say false memories are an important symptom in psychopathology.”
“Very funny. I prefer Micha or at least Michael, though.”
“Do I give a fuck?”
He scowls at you. “Yes.”
You finish off your pancake and wipe your hands with the napkin in mild disgust. Kaiser laughs at the wrinkle of your face while you do so, and then he scoots an inch closer.
“Help me finish it all off.” He gestures at all the paper plates.
Pinching between your fingers, you tug the first thing that seems appetizing closer to your side of the table. Kaiser scoops up some of the portion for himself and dumps it in another meal. You ask, “Why are you trying to suck up to me?”
“Aw, is it so wrong to want to treat my closest friend?”
You scoff. The movement of your eyelids fascinates Kaiser — you never really showed any annoyance towards him before, so he finds these expressions of distaste fascinating even if they make him sick. “We haven’t seen each other in four years, so if I’m still your closest friend somehow, that’s just sad. Be for real if you’re gonna be anything.”
“You’re being so difficult! What did I even do?!” To be honest, he’s lying and his gaze isn’t even shying away from you while he’s lying, not even a twitch. He knows you, so he knows that you’re mad he couldn’t be assed to tell you where he went even though he obviously could. He thinks playing dumb might be more in his favor here, though, so he’ll do that. “I don’t even like going to the fucking beach. I’ve been going every year to different places searching for you.”
The unbridled perturbation on your face upon hearing this is quite amusing. Priceless even. You were calling him crazy merely for the sake of fucking with him, and perhaps it was your earnest attempt at gaslighting him but you’re not about to admit it. Right now, though, you think he is genuinely insane.
“You’re saying that to appease me,” you accuse, hoping you’re correct, but also not. The idea he might’ve thought about you like you did about him while you were separated enthralls you, though you can’t let him win you over his bullshit.
“Maybe,” says Kaiser, trying to be mysterious.
Since he obviously wants you to ask him for an elaboration, you deny him the satisfaction.
“How much do you make working at that shitty bar?”
“Enough.”
“I should take you back to Spain with me,” Kaiser decides. With too much confidence at that. “You’d have anything you could ever want.”
It is not like it was before. He’s not acting the way he used to. You suppose you aren’t either. But anyway, you thought it inconceivable that he would ever joke — is he joking? — or make the absurd statements he’s been making. It’s natural, in a way, since you’re also not of the same temperament as before.
With a huff, you say, “You’ll never be my sugar daddy, Kaiser.”
“You’re no fun nowadays.” There’s an amused lilt in his tone while he sneers — you think the way he smiles is fake. You recall he was kind of quiet and awkward and stilted, unnatural at first maybe because he was out of practice in communicating with others, but now he speaks with insincere charisma, like a showman. Yet still the things he says so casually are off-kilter, ruining whatever illusion he’s attempting to sell. “And I said to call me Micha.”
“I don’t need to call you anything.”
It’s all about the metamorphosis. It’s about becoming each other so you’re never truly apart.
___
You’re crouching under one of the tropical trees overlooking the road by the wooden path leading down the beach. The shade is insufficient and the heels of your feet are digging into your ass to the point it hurts. Before your break, the thought of smoking a cigarette had entered your brain so you obeyed it as it was too pervasive even though you don’t enjoy lighting up anything during such weather, believe it or not.
Your eyes are glossy since you’re spacing out, taking puffs. When two silhouettes come to a halt right in front you, only then does the absentminded trance end.
Kaiser waves at you with unnecessary enthusiasm which is just for show. They’re late, arriving way past their usual time. Earlier when he and his companion didn’t show when you expected them to, you assumed maybe their vacation ended and they’d headed home.
The other guy is sullen, but at least his eye lashes are long, which must count for something. After sparing you a glance, he turns towards Kaiser and says judgmentally, “You’re still harassing staff.”
“I’m not har-”
Not giving a shit, the other guy straight up leaves, not bothering to participate in the discussion on a topic he brought up. You watch in mild bafflement as he walks off without a care.
“Ignore him,” Kaiser says. A plastic smile overtakes his face before he squats down next to you, butting into your body with his and almost toppling you over. This is probably bad for his knees, and you’re half exposed to the sun now. Somehow he has created several problems where there were none. “You still smoke.”
You don’t reply, but maintain the common decency not to blow any in his face. He should stay away from you. Isn’t he an athlete? Shouldn’t he be cautious about secondhand smoke? You consider putting it out altogether, then, so you stub it in the almost empty can of the fizzy drink you’d been drinking earlier.
“What kind of lighter do you have now? Has your taste gotten any better?”
No response again. He places an arm around your waist. Through touching you so often it’s like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that you were close, and yet intangible things seem to evade Kaiser, so maybe he’s struggling to conceive of any other way to reestablish your connection.
“You still smell the same. Like nicotine.”
“Well, you smell the way you used to, too.”
The space between his brows wrinkles and his nose twitches in irritation at your words. “The fuck do you mean? No, I don’t.”
“Let me spell it out for you in a way we both understand.” For the first time since your strange reunion, you reciprocate the physicality and pull him in by the shoulder till you’re forehead to forehead so you can look him in the eyes while explaining. “When I saw you a few days ago for the first time in so long, it was like you basically still had a sign that says ‘broke ass bum.’”
He gapes at you with incredulity, this offended expression on his face.
“I mean,” you say, snickering in bewilderment at the absurdity of his previous actions, “you were gonna sue me over some ice cubes, really? Acting like a spoiled little prince to disguise where you crawled out from? I think you and I have got the kinda stench not even all the Dior in Avenue Montaigne can wipe off.”
His fingers would’ve dug hard into your flesh if your shirt wasn’t in the way with how his grip tightens in response. The grit of his teeth exposes more of them. Strangely, you think he has nice gums. “Why the fuck are you being like this?”
“‘Cause you were content to forget all about me, but you don’t want me to be angry at you either. You should’ve just been polite and pretended you didn’t recognize me. But no, you want it all. I hate people like you who make no sense.”
“You’re just jealous,” Kaiser accuses, trying the snobby angle. If he’s pretentious then he’s not hurt by you claiming you despise him. At least that’s what he settles on.
“Sure. That could be true as well.” You stand up and take the can with you to throw away.
Kaiser plops down on the sand, tired of squatting, and doesn’t bother watching you plod back to the bar but the sound of your footsteps rings heavy in his ears until it dissipates. He hugs his knees like the wet wipe he is at heart.
The kindest person he’d known was a scammer and a liar and a thief and who knows what else. It hurts like nothing else to bear the weight of your desertion.
This must be cellular rejection. You should’ve been ecstatic to see him on account of your shared inhumanity. Does it not matter to you anymore, the fact that you and Kaiser are the same?
… Right; you’re not the ball. When he hits you, you can hit him back.
___
The beach is desolate and eerie at night. Kaiser came out to brood, which was fine because Sae didn’t care to ask him where he was going when he left the room. Unlike during the day, the sand is cool under his feet now — what an obtuse observation to make, all things considered. He’s annoyed and frustrated at himself as usual when things don’t go his way.
There’s a light illuminating someone’s face where they recline on one of the lounge chairs. It’s blue, meaning the source is a phone. Kaiser startles because he assumed he was alone.
And you startle when you see him staring at you in the dark, but instead of screaming all you do is let out an unconvincing gasp and turn on the backlight to reveal him. Kaiser covers his eyes with his forearms and turns away, letting out some vampiric kind of noise.
Then you frown and go back to tapping away on your shitty mobile game. “You’re such a creep honestly,” you say in distaste.
Once he gets over the assault you just committed on his admittedly sensitive eyes, Kaiser sits down next to you uninvited.
“It’s a coincidence,” he snaps. “I don’t want to be around you either. You’re so fucking exhausting. Can’t talk to you like a normal person at all because of your stupid grudge.”
“Then why are you still trying?”
Of course, there are many answers to that question. Some including but not limited to I think I can still love you like before and I miss you and I regret not sending you that postcard and I hate how you’re mad at me, but I can’t seem to get it right. Though such pathetic things aren’t in Kaiser’s nature to spew, so they never make it past his throat. The words constrict around his neck like a noose.
Instead of answering, he says, “You’ve got a phone now. You should give me your number.”
“No.”
“You’re just trying to make my life difficult for no reason!”
You give him another one of your blank stares. In the dullness of the night, obviously the gesture stays meaningless, though Kaiser can sense the bemusement in your silence at least.
Seeing that ignoring the problem at large isn’t turning out to be the winning move, Kaiser sighs and tries to think of what to say. There’s probably some kind of trick to this, some way he could fool you into overlooking his transgressions. Though when you were friends, he never did that to you, and you never left him then. Maybe it’s not necessary. In this situation, it’s proving to even be detrimental.
Kaiser picks at the skin on his neck. It’s to his benefit you can’t see each other well — he’s not sure he’d be able to spit it out without the detachment of the environment. “Listen, I’m not good at this shit, but… If I have to be honest, I was really paranoid. I didn’t want to think about the past and I didn’t want to get dragged back into it, so I was too scared to even write you a letter to tell you I’m fine. But stumbling on you again, it’s probably fucking stupid but I don’t want to lose track of you anymore. It’s lonely.”
“I wasted a year of my life thinking you were dead,” you say.
“I’m sorry.”
“Tomorrow’s my free day.”
There’s an uncertain excitement in Kaiser now, as if you might be yanking his chain and he doesn’t want to commit to the feeling right away. “Sure, I’m leaving after tomorrow, so that works. Meet me here and we can catch up.”
“I see this shitty beach enough as it is,” you say.
“Yeah, but not the way you’re supposed to.”
You shrug.
Without prompting or any indication that you care, Kaiser says, “I have a horrible sunburn.” He will always find something to bitch about. It’s like he’s never satisfied.
After a few swipes, you unlock your phone and pass it to him so he can add his contact information. “Then use aloe vera or something. What are you, stupid?”
“I don’t have any,” justifies Kaiser, inputting the digits. His tone is defensive because this is the first he’s heard of it, but it’s not like he’ll admit that.
Your forgiveness is fake, in a way. It’d been a grudge you held for a while and a betrayal you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. Maybe you’ll hold it over his head if he displeases you. So it’s not real forgiveness, is it, more so a lenience, a testament to your past, that your love for him somehow prevails over your need to enact the lex talionis.
___
The sand sinks under your weight with each step you take, waves lapping over the shoreline, seagulls and children squealing in the background. Sunset makes everything easier on the eyes and the heat is finally settling down since it’s getting late into the afternoon.
You had a nice time catching up with Kaiser in another part of the city, although he displayed a susceptibility to tourist traps. He gloated a lot, and you pretended you didn’t know about half of it from reading his Wikipedia page that one time when you were fostering your hate boner for him. You told him about how you ran away and ended up in another country and about how you’re still on the missing persons site.
Now you’re going back by the seaside instead of through the streets. You walk side by side, your ankles touching the water. Kaiser’s grin is wide, which makes him seem smug, but this time it doesn’t strike you as forced so maybe he is simply carefree. It’s an unusual sight for you — Kaiser, genuinely smiling.
“I think I’ll come see you again when it’s off season. Or maybe we can arrange for you to come visit me instead. I’ve got all sorts of things I want to show you,” he says. He never really had anything to give you before, and now he takes pride in having the means to do so, regardless of whether you’re interested or impressed.
“Whatever, Micha. You’re so full of it. I bet it’ll be lame or you’ll forget you promised.”
He remains pleased despite the teasing, even happier if possible. “It’s fine if you say pointless shit like that, I don’t mind a challenge. All I have to do is prove you wrong.”
___
Lol at the end of finishing this I teared up in Frustration because I couldn't write this the way I envisioned it and then I couldn't save it through editing either (<- guy who's defiinitely normal and casual ) and I kinda just wanted to be done with it so I'm not gonna hold it hostage any longer either. Idk I'm just mad and depressed about it rn i guess. Thank U all for tapping in
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romeo roulette | jung yoonoh
pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader
summary: if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.
genre: soulmate au, office au, fake dating, fluff (a lot), angst (a little), romcom, magical realism (??)
words: 21.2k
warnings: language
song recs: playlist here !
a/n: behold ! a kdrama compressed in a fic ! ok i was lying there was more than a little angst but all in good fun <3 i have never experienced working in an office (thanks to the panny) but i tried making it as accurate as i could !! hope you have fun with this <3
It’s not that you’ve never been looked at with a lover’s gaze, it’s just that whatever look Jaehyun has been giving you is mildly uncomfortable. It’s not supposed to be that way. Hell, even his hand clasping yours are a little too clammy for your liking.
Jung Yoonoh. Get your act together.
You wish he were a better actor than this. For someone used to eyes on him in each and every room he’s in, he’s not very good at making eye contact. You’ll be saving this performance. Not to stroke your own ego but at least you know how to behave under strong gazes.
There are three people staring at the two of you and your fingers intertwined, scrutinizing your postures and the expressions on your faces. Maybe Jaehyun should face them instead of glancing at you wordlessly. He’s a terrible liar for someone who acts so smooth.
You look up with a short smile. The aforementioned three are your coworkers—former class rep at uni and your current boss Doyoung, your friend Soojin and Jaehyun’s friend Sicheng from IT. None of them look happy—like it concerns them. If there was a competition for nosy coworkers, this entire group would be winning awards left and right (and that’s including you).
They’re going to find out, an annoying voice giggles inside the quiet corner of your brain. Like hell, they will. You didn’t take up acting lessons in college for nothing. You just need to focus on the details.
This whole charade dates its beginning to a week ago.
If someone were to tell you Jung Yoonoh from marketing is your soulmate, you would most certainly either laugh or take it as a genuine insult. Hence, you were glad when you found that he isn’t.
It was an accident. You had glimpsed at his soulmark, right below his collarbone, at a particularly wild office afterparty—and somehow, you thought it was fitting that his tattoo was a little red heart. For someone born on Valentine’s day (which you know from a night out with coworkers, not because you’re remotely interested), if his soulmark was not something as disgusting as a heart, it would be the textbook definition of irony. But then again, fate is a funny thing. Your soulmark is a heart roughly the same size, with a little more intricacy in the form of a piercing arrow.
Despite all, however, if someone were to ask you if Jung Yoonoh is the worst person to be your soulmate, the answer is no. You can name at least five coworkers off the top of your head that you’d choose him over. You would choose him over Doyoung (and especially his nagging), you would choose him over Taeyong because he’s too hot and you also don’t like men in a higher position than you are, you would choose him over Jungwoo because you suspect he’s secretly a furry. Jaehyun is certainly better than your deskmate Dongmin who, despite an angelic smile, is: a) too distant to make actual conversation with, and b) in a relationship despite being your soulmate. Sweet-tempered Dongmin doesn’t even know it’s you. You’d love to be the bearer of bad news but this one—you’re not exactly ready for it yourself.
So that’s the explanation for why you hunted down Jaehyun and in a desperate attempt to not seem pathetic, coerced him into a role that has carefully picked benefits for either of you. You just have to bite the bullet sometimes.
“And I get what out of this?”
“Me? Temporarily, that is.”
Jaehyun laughs in amusement and you drop your smile, almost offended. If you were a gift, you’d certainly be an attractive, spicy, hot one—he doesn’t have to look at you so incredulously. In a neat business suit, Jaehyun is as kempt as ever though his tie could do with some more work. As an HR assistant, his appearance pleases you. However as a person, the perfection annoys the hell out of you. He could show himself to be more human. It would make your job (both the actual and the metaphorical) easier.
“I’m leaving,” he announces with a nonchalant exhale. “You keep messing around during work hours like this and people are going to think you’re jobless.”
“Wait!”
You jog up to him and block his path, crossing your arms as you huff at his indignance.
“I said no,” he repeats, and when he tries to evade you, you push him back with your palm flat against his chest. Jaehyun doesn’t show any more discomfort than usual, biting the inside of his cheek.
“You haven’t found your soulmate, right?” you say, taking a deep breath. If you have to resort to psychological warfare, so be it.
His smile wavers and he straightens, no longer leaning against the printer desk. “No. How does that matter?”
“It matters because you’re going to be my pretend-soulmate. Now, don’t be a pussy.”
He opens his mouth and closes it, furrowing his eyebrows. “You can’t always trick me into doing what you want.”
“I’ll ask Doyoung if you say no.”
“See—enough with the tricks, they don’t work anymore. I’ve known you for two years.”
“I really will ask him.”
“Not convincing enough. You don’t even talk to Doyoung outside work.”
You groan into your hand, taking a few moments to come up with another plan. How is your obvious charisma not enough? You certainly can’t tell him how rejected you feel with the whole Dongmin situation even if his rejection hasn’t officially come yet. It’s too embarrassing for a grown adult to go through. You don’t mind being lonely for the rest of your life if you’re successful. There’s a price tag on each decision you make anyway.
“I’ll treat you to lunch every day. I’ll pay.”
You cross your arms, tapping your foot in anticipation. They say the way to a man’s heart is through the stomach. Besides, Jaehyun hates spending his lunch money on himself. This ought to do something.
Jaehyun places his hand in front of his mouth in mock surprise. “Oh no, out of your beloved paycheck? That’s kind of scary, honestly.”
“Jaehyun. Stop messing around. I’m being serious.”
He purses his lips, hesitation across his face. You don’t like the way he thinks, with quiet, lost eyes and no clear giveaways on his lips.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
You smile in relief though you try somewhat to not let it show on your face.
“On one condition.”
Your eyes dart across his face, nothing that tells what he might suggest next. You hate when you don’t get to decide on things.
“You have to come visit my family next month and pose as my soulmate—”
“No way.”
“—and when this whole game you’re playing is over, you’re going to say I rejected you.”
You stare at him, weighing the odds.
“Fine,” you say finally, voice pitched in slight annoyance.
Jaehyun shrugs.
“But I tell my parents that I rejected you. Or they’ll come after you with a task force or something.”
You mutter the last part.
He grimaces, holding his breath for a good few seconds and then letting it go.
“Alright. It’s not like mine and your parents know each other—or will ever meet.”
“Fine then,” you say. “We have an agreement.”
“We have an agreement,” he repeats.
Now, back to more pressing matters. The people in front of you aren’t a stupid lot—even if you've seen Doyoung spend $500 on plush toys, seen Sicheng absentmindedly walk into a desk and pretend to not be in pain for the next five minutes and Soojin somehow convinced a senior to get her coffee because she thought he was an intern (in her defence, it worked).
The only way is to act through. You clear your throat.
"We… we discovered it last week. Our signs match."
Technically, you drew an arrow with a permanent marker over Jaehyun's tattoo in an attempt to resemble yours. It's not awful, but perhaps not perfect.
“Discovered? Like just happened to find out?” Doyoung asks.
“Isn’t Jaehyun’s on…” Soojin leans in to whisper hurriedly in your ear. “On his butt? Did you guys sleep together?”
You contort your face in disgust. “The what? What? Who told you that? And no.”
Soojin makes an ‘ah’ sound and leans back. “I should stop listening to office rumours then.”
"You should." You glare at her.
Sicheng is the only one without questions at the tip of his tongue but the look on his face worries you most.
“I’ve never seen your tattoo, now that I think about it,” he muses, turning to Jaehyun. “Although we’re roommates.”
Jaehyun clears his throat, looking around with shifty eyes. "Why is… why is everyone looking so suspicious?"
"It's just… so sudden," Soojin says, looking around at the others.
"Yeah," Sicheng mutters.
"Soulmate fraud is a big deal too, you know that right?" Doyoung informs. "You could get put in jail."
You throw up your hands in exasperation. "Why would we pretend? We don't have any reason to. And, uh, you're sure about the jail thing?"
You look at Doyoung, hoping your question didn’t come off too squeaky.
"You’re right,” he says, sighing. “It’s so unlikely for soulmates to work in the same company, let alone the same building.”
“Oh, yes, I’m so lucky,” you mutter under your breath.
Doyoung sighs. "Look, we're happy for you. It's just that… it's a little sudden."
"Literally what I just said," Soojin says.
"Literally what she just said," Doyoung agrees quickly, not wanting to pick a fight. Sometimes you wonder who the real boss is.
"Look, just because we don't even acknowledge each other or find each other remotely attractive or wouldn't even be each other's office Christmas card candidate—"
Jaehyun nudges your side with his elbow and gives you a look that seems a lot like "You're making it worse".
You clear your throat. "That's what happens to most soulmates! You think you're going to land the perfect one and boom. You get a chump from marketing."
Jaehyun makes a sound of protest. "I didn't want a snob from HR either."
The two of you glare at each other, and you find that clenching his jaw makes Jaehyun slightly (around 0.05%) more attractive, or at the very least more bearable to look at.
Doyoung gasps. "Okay, I get it. You're having adjustment issues. I know a guy for that. He's helped every newly found soulmate couple adjust with each other."
"We don't need that," you interrupt, offering your fakest smile.
"You do," Doyoung responds, his smile equally fake. "I'll drive you this weekend if you're free. He’ll give you one free session. No more, because we all know how capitalism works."
People have got to stop copying your fake smile. You wish you could have it copyrighted because after all, it’s the same smile that tricks interviewees into thinking they got the job. It’s not evil if you say it isn’t. You open your mouth, look at Jaehyun doing the same and when you can't come up with an excuse, give up and nod.
"Don't look so resentful," Doyoung says, tone slightly complaining. "I'm not doing this as your boss. We were friends in college and I'm just doing you a favour. A friendly favour."
Soojin hums in deep thought. "I feel like this is some sort of nepotism."
"I feel like you should open a dictionary once in a while," Doyoung mutters, only to get a vaguely threatening look from Soojin.
"Anyway," Sicheng diverts, eyes curious when he turns to Doyoung. "Why did you call us here?"
"Ah." Doyoung's eyes widen. "I heard promotion rumours."
Sicheng lets out a loud huff of annoyance. "You summoned us here for company gossip?"
Doyoung crosses his arms. “So, you’re not interested?”
“Who said that?” Sicheng responds quickly, leaning in.
The five of you huddle closer in a circle, looking as conspicuous as a cult.
“You guys know that Jinyoung’s leaving, right?” Doyoung starts.
Soojin gasps audibly only to get a smack on the arm from Doyoung. “Why’s he leaving? He's like employee of the month every month. ”
A few chuckles pass through the group at her discontentment from months of losing out on the title.
“I heard he found his soulmate. Lucky ass gets tax benefits too now,” Sicheng complains. “Why is he leaving?”
“Oh, look who’s interested in gossip now,” Soojin coos.
Sichengs turns red in the face and looks away, clearing his throat. “You’re gonna answer my question, Doyoung?”
“Oh! Right.” Doyoung looks up from a text. “He got rejected by his soulmate.”
Soojin covers her mouth this time when she gasps and you can’t say your jaw doesn’t drop as well.
“Rejected? Like our picture-perfect Jinyoung got rejected?” you repeat, trying to process the information. “Please don’t tell me he decided to be an idiot and sign a mutual rejection.”
“No, he didn’t lose his senses,” Doyoung responds with a duh undertone. “He’s getting the compensation money.”
You sigh. “Man, I feel bad for him.”
Jaehyun hums in agreement. There’s a hush over the group and you feel fear rise in your chest. You don’t want to be rejected. You’ve seen how happy Dongmin looks with his girlfriend—he’d reject you in a heartbeat. Of course, you could just receive the compensation money from the one-sided rejection and get it over with but you refuse to. It hurts to not be wanted. It hurts to not be wanted by someone who’s supposed to want you. To be specific, it hurts your pride. Every time you see the damn arrowed heart on Dongmin’s wrist, which he tries so hard to cover with his watch, you feel like throwing up. You’re glad yours isn’t as easy to spot—resting right above your hip bone.
“Anyway, someone’s getting promoted to that HR specialist position.”
You gasp. “Is it me? It’s me, right?”
Jaehyun rolls his eyes and you elbow him. “What’s with you?”
“Don’t get too excited,” he says, shrugging. “Isn’t it stupid to get your hopes up over a rumour?”
Doyoung breathes out. “Wow, (name) really sucked the life out of you, Jaehyun.”
You glare at him when Soojin breaks into a fit of laughter. “You- you know what that- you know what that sounds like, right?”
Your face contorts into disgust and you shake your head. “Let’s be more professional, alright, Soojin?”
She clears her throat and straightens her clothes, like a teenager being reprimanded. “I’m your senior. It’s embarrassing when you say that to me.”
Jaehyun speaks up and turns to you. “I think lunch break is almost over.”
You raise an eyebrow. “So?”
“You’re forgetting something.” He smiles, dimples showing, but his eyes come off menacing.
“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You forgot about that stupid lunch promise.
“Hey. Professional,” Soojin warns.
You groan and link your arm through Jaehyun’s, making him bite back a smile. What is it with men and getting weirdly happy about lunch?
“We’re gonna go get lunch,” you announce.
“Ooh, (name)’s ditching quality time with coworkers for dates now,” Soojin coos.
You roll your eyes and exit the office, stopping to wait in front of the elevator.
“I think that went well,” Jaehyun says, shrugging lightly.
“Shh. What if they hear us?”
“Do you think they’re X-men? We’re a long corridor and closed doors away.”
You huff, crossing your arms. “Still…”
Jaehyun’s smug smile makes you want to smack it right off and this isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way with him. You swear he’s not as bad as some of the guys you’ve met but Jaehyun is simply annoying. An A grade nuisance. You can trust him though. If Soojin says he’s a reliable guy, you’ll believe her—she doesn’t bluff when it comes to seeing right through men, though she does have a tendency to believe stupid rumours.
“Your acting was shit though,” you snipe.
Jaehyun lets out a low sardonic laugh. “At least I was subtle when I was messing up.”
You cross your arms and huff. “You know what? You can take the next elevator ride.”
“Huh?”
You step into the elevator just as the doors open and quickly jam your finger to the close doors button. The look of betrayal on Jaehyun’s face is subtle but it’s enough to satisfy you. As the saying goes, when one door closes, another one opens—it’s very applicable to elevators. He can take the other one.
However, almost immediately after, the elevator doors open and you groan, opening your mouth to send a sarcastic congratulations to Jaehyun for pressing the button on time.
Your words hitch on your tongue. Dongmin greets the two of you with a smile, standing beside Jaehyun, who has his eyes averted from you.
“Hey,” Dongmin greets. “Congratulations. I heard the news.”
“Thanks,” you croak, clearing your throat with a bit of heat on your cheeks. Jaehyun looks like he might burst into a fit of laughter any moment and you shoot him a subtle glare.
“Where are you headed to?” You ask.
“Oh, I’m going to grab a sandwich from the cafeteria.”
“We’re also headed to the cafeteria,” Jaehyun declares, with a smile that’s almost devilish.
“No, we’re not,” you say quickly, making Dongmin raise an eyebrow. You hold back a groan. If only Dongmin weren’t raised to be the politest man you know and a little bit more of an asshole.
You hum and turn to Jaehyun. “I told you about that new cafe. Remember, honey?”
Dongmin makes an ‘o’ with his mouth. “Nicknames, already? Ah, I’m so jealous. It must be great to get along with your soulmate.”
Oh, the sweet summer child that Dongmin is.
Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “Oh, won’t it take too long, darling? We have—”
He makes a show of checking his Rolex, a gift he received from his superior that he spares no chance to flex.
“—Around ten minutes left.”
You hold back a groan and plaster on your smile. “Come on. Now is the best time.”
“That sounds like a load of—”
You elbow Jaehyun hard in the gut and a restrained sound dies in his throat, eyes widening in the sweet look of discomfort taking over his features. You smile triumphantly and turn to Dongmin with an immediate change of expression.
“I’ll see you in office later,” you say, bowing slightly.
Dongmin nods and gets off on the fifth floor. You watch in quiet relief as the elevator door closes and turn to your dear companion, irked.
“Did you have to do that?” Jaehyun asks, voice raspy with pain.
“You deserved it. Don’t you dare make this a bigger mess than it already is.”
“You came up with it.” Jaehyun straightens, finally. Apart from the few loose strands of his neatly parted hair, he doesn’t seem all that disgruntled.
“And we’re going to set some ground rules,” you declare, closing your arms.
Jaehyun straightens to his full height, the space between the two of you diminishing.
"Okay," he agrees. "Then we both get a say in it. It's a contract, after all."
"Fine. First rule, no being weird around Dongmin."
Jaehyun chuckles. "I think you need to be more careful about that than I do."
You pat his cheek. "Focus. Just don't- don't be around him for too long."
Jaehyun purses his lips. "Why are you so uncomfortable around him? I thought you were doing this because you didn't want to reject him."
You glance away, feeling uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter. I just don't want him to know."
Jaehyun hums. "Fine. My turn. No calling me a chump."
Your cheeks puff up as you try to contain your laughter. "It bothered you that much, huh?"
Jaehyun furrows his brows. "No one's ever called me that before. It's always 'oh my god, he's so handsome, who is he?' or 'ooh, I might faint from how hot he is'."
You giggle. "Alright, handsome."
Jaehyun exhales, his puffed cheeks making him look like a resentful five year old instead of a grown man with a professional job. You pause before you get back on track.
“No nicknames,” you blurt. “It’s weird when you call me something endearing. And your flirting feels kind of threatening.”
“What do you mean, baby?”
“See! You’re doing it again.” You cross your arms at the look on his face; anything close to victorious over Jaehyun’s features is unbearable to you.
He raises his arms in exasperation. “How are we supposed to make this work if we act like we don’t care about each other. Guess why Doyoung’s taking us to couple therapy?”
You huff, slightly pissed off. “You’re saying it was my fault?”
“I’m saying we could have avoided that with better acting.”
“You think you’re so—”
The elevator door opens with a ding on the first floor and you turn to find a bunch of interns back from their lunch break. It would be much less of an awkward affair if you and Jaehyun weren’t well into each other’s personal spaces, noses almost touching and with a mutual glare which could be easily mistaken for a look of something more sensual. You jump away from Jaehyun and leave the elevator as fast as you can, feeling far too conscious of yourself. With long strides, you exit the corporate airs of the building to a sunny, fairly populous sidewalk.
Jaehyun catches up to you, bending and trying to catch a glimpse of your face with an incredulous smile over his.
“Don’t say a word, Yoonoh.”
“Ooh, you’re saying my name now.”
“This isn’t funny!”
“I find it plenty funny.”
“That’s because of your trash sense of humour.”
“Mhm.”
“Don’t look so smug.”
Mondays are the days that make you want to scream in agony, not Thursdays—though they are pretty high up on the worst days of the week list. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe pretending to be in love with someone you simply cannot be in love with is an awful idea.
Soulmates don’t need to be in love with each other, you think to yourself. There’s plenty of soulmates who are just in it for the financial benefits; you can just pretend to be one of them. This dilemma is starting to fray your nerves and Jung Yoonoh, with his lax disposition and dimpled cheeks, is making it worse. And to top it off, you now have to take him to your favourite (kind of secret) cafe in the name of the lies that slipped your tongue. It was supposed to be a quiet comfort spot for you.
You blow a puff of air out and dismiss the thought. Comfort spots aren’t real anyway when you’re all grown. There’s bound to be a breach.
However, you will not let the (lacking) romance department of your life get sorted out by someone who doesn’t even know you. Lady luck would be an acquaintance to you at most. If fate is a game of chance after all, you might as well be the one spinning the roulette. You look at Jaehyun, piecing together the perfect plan for this seemingly frivolous play-pretend. The game is in your hands now.
You blink at the figure of Jung Yoonoh under February sunlight on a modestly busy sidewalk. It’s not something to be surprised at—however, the stark contrast in attire makes you stare longer than you intend to. Wearing a black graphic hoodie and pair of worn out jeans, Jaehyun looks about as casual as you can bear. It’s always weird to see coworkers out of formal clothing.
“Are you just going to stare at me till Doyoung comes and picks us up?” he asks.
You roll your eyes.
“You look nice,” he says, and you glance down at your outfit with a flush of heat over your cheeks. It’s just a short A-line skirt, stockings and a sweatshirt. This is as basic as you get. What’s worse is that his comment didn’t sound sarcastic.
“You- You look nice too. I guess.” Once in a while, you will say something extremely stupid and pretend it never happened. The frequency increases around Jaehyun for some damn reason.
“You guess? I’m pretty sure I look more than nice.”
“And how long did you look at yourself in the mirror and practise catchphrases this time?”
Jaehyun’s ears turn the shade of cherries and you press down your smile. You knew that time you caught him talking to himself in front of a car window would play to your advantage.
“What’s that you’re holding?” you ask, eyeing the plastic bag he’s holding.
“Ginseng,” he answers, staring blankly at the cars passing by. “I heard the couples therapist is in his sixties so he might find it useful.”
“Oh, old people stuff,” you muse quietly. “That’s quite thoughtful of you.”
You should’ve brought something, you think for a moment before realizing that couples probably don’t give separate gifts.
“Thanks,” you mutter.
He raises an eyebrow. “For what?”
You shake your head. “Anyway, we might as well kill some time. Twenty questions. Let’s go.”
He laughs. “What are we, in college?”
You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t make us sound like we’re thirty. I bet you’re the kind of guy who has his retirement plan figured out.”
“Wrong,” he emphasizes, face leaning closer.
“Fine. I’ll start the questions, you unsalted block of butter. How many relationships have you been in?”
Jaehyun opens his mouth and closes it, ears turning red. “That’s your first question?”
You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m guessing it’s single digit and on the lower side.”
He rolls his eyes. “How many relationships have you been in?”
You shut your mouth. There’s a moment of silence, a breeze passing you by, carrying winter away in its arms to make room for spring.
“Never found a relationship worth it,” you mutter, glancing away.
Jaehyun hesitates before opening his mouth. “Me neither.”
“Good thing for us, eh? Love makes people crazy.”
Jaehyun faces you with a clipped smile. Never did you think Jaehyun from marketing would be relating to you on a personal matter.
“Oh, but I’ve had enough hookups and I can bet you’re mediocre at best in bed.”
Jaehyun glares at you. “I am not and I can prove it to you.”
“Is that an invitation into your bed? No, thanks.”
He opens his mouth to retort but is interrupted by the Hyundai Grandeur pulling up to the sidewalk and rolling down the driver window to reveal Doyoung. He looks as overworked as usual, but his eyes are more tired, a bit of makeup covering the dark circles. You’ve heard his soulmate is a makeup artist for an idol group and wonder how they even came to be. Does fate throw darts randomly and pick its choice?
“Get in. Quick,” Doyoung instructs. “I have to drop you off and head home. My family is visiting. I didn’t even get a warning and they think I’m in a gay relationship with Taeyong because we still have our friendship rings from college.”
You want to laugh and agree but Doyoung looks rather pissed off so you hold it in. The two of you do as told, getting in the backseat and shutting the doors in sync. The car smells rather leafy mingling with the scent of fresh clothes and you eye the jar dangling from the rear-view mirror. You open your mouth to ask what scent that is when Doyoung’s voice rings out.
“What’s that?” Doyoung signals to the bag with Jaehyun.
Jaehyun looks down. “Ginseng extract.”
“Oh, the gift pack?” Doyoung asks.
Jaehyun nods and Doyoung chuckles, shaking his head. “If that’s for Mr. Lee, forget it. He hates gifts. Something about inward appreciation and shit.”
Jaehyun groans, massaging his forehead. “What do I do with this then? Is this guy a priest?”
“Give it to Doyoung,” you suggest. “His family’s visiting.”
You hear an audible hum of approval from the driver seat and turn to Jaehyun making a face of reluctance. Maybe he isn’t so magnanimous after all, you think smiling.
“You’re both quite tame today,” Doyoung remarks, just when the silence is starting to swallow the inside of the car. “Makes me wonder if you need Mr. Lee after all.”
“We actually don’t…” You shake your head. “We’re here and it’s free so why not?”
Jaehyun shoots you a questioning look. It’s not like you can cancel when you’re in Doyoung’s car and already on the way. You’ve known your boss long enough to know the wrong answer to his questions. You look outside at Seoul streets and sigh.
Jaehyun looks at you, your focus elsewhere and wishes this would end already. He has no idea what overcame him to accept your ridiculous offer but he must be just as ridiculous. At the very least, he finds you quite lovely to look at—not that he’d ever admit it to you. The foundation to this weird bickering friendship (if he can call it that) would be ruined by that. His ego, however, has been boosted up a few notches from the fact that you called him for help. He looks outside the window, holding back a smile. It’s a sunny day.
The therapist, Mr. Lee’s office building is a fancy one with an even fancier lobby. Baby pink leather couches cushion your bum nicely as you wait for your appointment. The architecture is that of a corporate firm and you feel quite at home with the large glass walls by the revolving door. This therapist guy must be rich as hell. The receptionist wears a formal uniform; her blouse is light pink with a grey pencil skirt and you like the look of it. You wonder if asking her where she bought it is time-appropriate. More couples sit around you and you, unfortunately, have to scoot closer to Jaehyun as a result. You do not want to catch that disease they all have. Why are they even here for therapy if they’re smiling at each other in that sickly enamored way?
Now that you’re here, you’re starting to feel that this arrangement was ill-decisive. You should’ve done a better job of acting. You wonder if you can get a refund for that college course on acting, pouting as the ticking wall clock gets on your nerves. Even the marble floors are pink; the walls are mahogany red and there’s a heart-shaped wall clock, and should you glance around more, you’re going to nauseate yourself. This guy certainly takes his job seriously—or just really likes pink-red themes.
A woman in her early thirties exits the elevator and announces your names, and you click your tongue at the fact that she used Jung for your surname. It sounds distasteful.
You follow her, starting to get nervous. You really hope this Mr. Lee isn’t as good as Doyoung says he is. Your fraud falling apart within three days is too embarrassing a defeat, not to mention bordering on illegal if found out. What the fuck does the government care about broken hearts and beneficial relationships? It’s so nosy. You understand the financial situation in case of happily bonded soulmates but apart from that, there really shouldn’t be this much discrepancy in the name of love.
Love drives people crazy. You’d rather not lose your good sense in the name of something so inane. After all, money makes the world go around, not love.
Restricting a gag at the deep red heart on the door, you push them open with Jaehyun to find an old man sitting on a similar baby pink couch as in the lobby. He gets up to greet the two of you, the wrinkles on his face deepening when he smiles. Despite everything, he has a sort of grace to him, the one that comes with growing old elegantly. An upbeat song plays on a record player attached to the wall, although at a very low volume, and the tune reminds you of Animal Crossing.
“Doyoung told me about the two of you,” Mr. Lee says, gesturing at the two of you to sit down. “How long has it been since you found out?”
“Six days,” you answer at the same time Jaehyun answers, “Four days”.
The two of you look at each other.
“Four-Six days. We didn’t keep track.”
“Ah,” Mr. Lee says. “How do you propose to celebrate your anniversary?”
You hesitate opening your mouth and declaring that you don’t really need to do that crap. Mr. Lee notices your expression and breaks into gentle laughter.
“I’m kidding. Anniversary dates don’t matter,” he laughs. “It’s okay to celebrate your 100-day on the wrong day. Don’t worry.”
You purse your lips. To your dismay, Jaehyun isn’t as bothered by the sickly pink environment and Mr. Lee’s relaxed demeanour.
“I have a hundred percent success rate,” Mr. Lee assures the two of you, looking directly at you.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” you mutter under your breath and get a nudge from Jaehyun, who has his politest smile on.
You can’t believe Jaehyun has a better customer service mode than you do. If you didn’t know him, you’d be fooled into thinking he’s the nice guy character every office has. Unfortunately, that one goes to Dongmin. You hate getting stuck with nice guys (unless they offer financial stability).
“I think Doyoung might have been exaggerating,” Jaehyun explains calmly. “Whatever he told you.”
“He told me the two of you have a bickering problem. And staring at each other when the other isn’t looking.”
You cough. “That is not true. The staring part.”
Jaehyun narrows his eyes at you. “I knew you were checking me out,” he mutters.
You roll your eyes. “Keep dreaming, Jaehyun.”
Mr. Lee laughs. “Your bickering seems to be quite affectionate. I don’t know what that boy was worried about.”
You press your lips together into a thin smile, annoyed that anyone would ever describe your interaction with a man as affectionate. It makes you feel like an idiot. You were always better off alone—the universe was wrong to assign Dongmin to you. Maybe you needed to see the apparent love of your life clearly in love with someone else to snap you to reality.
“However, what is a playful lover’s fight in the beginning can turn into real fights.”
“Right,” you mutter. “It’s all fun and games in the beginning.”
“The two of you have almost no animosity—you’ve known each other before you discovered the soulmark, right?”
The two of you nod, having already reconciled yourselves to this session. It’s a one-time thing, you tell yourself. It will be over soon.
“The soulmate information shouldn’t influence the relationship you already had. If anything, it should be drawing you closer. First time awkwardness is common.”
He’s starting to sound a lot like your high school sex ed teacher. You get the idea to pretend to be sick and get out of this early.
“Company policy too,” Jaehyun mutters. “Unofficial company policy makes office romance out to be some sort of sacrilege.”
“You know, I was the CEO of your company so I do know the policies,” Mr. Lee says, smiling in the confident, reserved way senior citizens offering wisdom do.
You choke on the water you were taking a sip of, a coughing fit overcoming you and Jaehyun hesitates before awkwardly patting your back.
“Huh? CEO? I’m sorry?” you manage.
Mr. Lee lets out a loud, hearty laugh. “I stepped down two years ago.”
“That’s when I joined,” you and Jaehyun say at the same time.
Mr. Lee smiles at the two of you wordlessly. “I have an idea for the two of you. Why don’t you try turning your ‘I’s into ‘we’s? Do some activities together and when you talk about it, you’ll find yourself much closer.”
You narrow your eyes. “You know, Mr. Lee, I’m a little curious about your relation with the company—”
“My recommendations won’t help you get promotions faster.”
“Dammit.”
Jaehyun chuckles beside you but a glare from you turns it into a suppressed smile. The one thing that wouldn’t be a waste of time opened its door and closed it right back.
“But you know how promotions work,” you press, leaning forward.
An alarm rings, so pleasant in tone that you know it’s a Samsung. Unfortunately, it’s the ugly flip model and you question Mr. Lee’s taste (and wealth).
“Oh, look, time’s up,” Mr. Lee announces, and you think you catch a hint of nervousness in his voice.
Jaehyun springs up before his ears turn red, embarrassed by the gusto with which he himself got up and looks at you expectantly. You get up, sighing.
“Next time, Mr. Lee,” you warn. “I will get those details.”
“I charge by the hour.” He smiles.
“Stop threatening the therapist,” Jaehyun mutters to you, taking your arm and turning to leave.
“Oh, and,” Mr. Lee calls. “It’s always better to be honest than to pretend.”
You blink in surprise when Jaehyun tugs at your arm, bowing in thanks and leaving the room with you.
“Was it just me or did he see through us?” you whisper to Jaehyun.
He shakes his head, whispering back, “There’s no way he could tell. He’s probably referring to something else.”
“Like what?”
Jaehyun doesn’t answer.
“Tell me, are you always so domineering towards strangers even?” he asks. “I just thought you liked to press my buttons because I’m easygoing.”
You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not as cool as you think you are, especially since you get so hot and bothered by me.”
“It’s just you,” he whispers earnestly and your pulse rises. “No one else.”
You cough to kill the awkward silence and walk faster to the elevator. Jaehyun follows at a leisurely pace and it’s never occurred to you before but the sound of someone’s footsteps can also be annoying, proof currently standing beside you.
The elevator doors open, and much to your appallment, a young couple happens to be full blown making out inside the elevator, hands where there certainly shouldn’t be in broad daylight. Jaehyun whips his face away, clearing his throat loud enough for the couple to detach themselves from each other and hurriedly exit, fixing their clothes on the way.
“So he wasn’t lying about the success rate,” Jaehyun states quietly, a look of resigned horror on his face.
You can’t even respond for a few moments, following him into the elevator and shaking your head to get rid of the thought that inevitably jams itself inside your head. It might have a point, however.
"Maybe we should kiss too," you think out loud.
Jaehyun stiffens, looking at you with wide, fearful eyes. "No."
"We have to kiss, we're dating!" You exclaim, hands on your hips.
"We're not actually—ah, whatever. It’s not worth bickering with you."
"Why? Afraid you'll fall in love with me?”
Jaehyun shakes his head, and you’re suddenly aware that your bickering keeps drawing you closer to each other, your faces nearer than you’d realized.
"If anything," he starts with a confident smile. "You better not fall in love with me."
"Oh, please. You're taking this way too seriously."
"You're the one that wants to kiss me."
Your cheeks heat up. "You're- I- That's not—argh, fuck you."
Jaehyun looks smug, and you have the unstoppable urge to punch it off his face. You take a deep breath. Violence is not the way, (name).
“If we were a few years younger, you’d be begging for mercy under me,” you seethe.
Jaehyun’s eyes shift over your face in confusion, ears burning bright red with each passing second. Before he can open his mouth, you let out a short yell.
“Not like that, you pervert,” you say, leaning away from him.
“I didn’t even say anything. On an unrelated note, were you a delinquent in school?”
You roll your eyes. “Kind of. I had a temper and a sharp tongue.”
“And now you’re a people pleaser. That’s quite the development.”
You smack his shoulder. “You’re getting on my nerves, punk.”
He makes an ‘oh’ with his mouth before smiling. “You totally did the delinquent accent.”
“I’m guessing you were the shy, little boy who flushed red at conversations about kissing.”
Jaehyun clears his throat in annoyance. “I was not. I was quite popular in high school and college, you know?”
“Yeah,” you mutter. “It’s that face of yours.”
“Sorry, what? I didn’t catch that.”
“Oh, look, we’re on the first floor.” You exit the elevator, leaving a puzzled Jaehyun to follow in stumbling steps.
“I don’t think Doyoung’s picking us up,” you state. “You take the bus? Or do you have a car to flex? I don’t ride in anything below a Tesla, unless it’s Doyoung because he’s technically my boss.”
“You’ll have to do with good old rented Hyundais,” he answers.
You exhale. Maybe he’s getting used to you. The bus stop is opposite the building, the structure squeaky clean and a bunch of people waiting on the seats. It’s a busy place and you wonder if the scammy-therapist-slash-your-former-ceo’s business has anything to do with that. You sit the first chance you get, shoulders pressed against Jaehyun’s for the lack of space and admiring the passing traffic. Seoul really just depends on the lenses you see through. Work days make the screen tinted grey and blue and you hate them often but some days, it’s good to experience those. Weekends are brighter, sunny and usually not with Jaehyun but he doesn’t really put a damper on them either.
You scan his side profile, a little envious when you realize that his confidence isn’t misplaced. You might have trained yourself to be more of a pleaser over the years but he’s the sort of person people come to like naturally. Moreover, his skin is perfect and his hair is always looking styled even in a mess. Fate and Life are partners in crime when it comes to being unfair.
Jaehyun turns to look at you and you snap your head to your lap, turning on your phone and staring at the homescreen for a good few seconds.
“Twenty questions,” Jaehyun announces. “Let’s play again. I’ll go first. Do you check me out when I walk away?”
“What is this, playing my own cards against me?” You scoff. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“So, yes or no?”
“Sometimes,” you mutter. “But it’s not the good kind of checking out. I’m checking out how terrible you look with your mess of a tie.”
Jaehyun laughs, the sound a hearty rumbling sort and you can’t help but smile back at that. It’s kind of cute when he laughs—the sound of it and the way his cheeks are dusted pink.
“My turn,” you say with a cheeky smile as you lean in to whisper. “Have you ever had a wet dream about me?”
Jaehyun chokes on air, coughing out the surprise as he stares at you dumfound. You stick the tip of your tongue out and throw him a wink, thoroughly enjoying this victory against him. It feels great to fluster someone like Jaehyun.
“No,” he says with clear emphasis.
“Even the night you said I was so unbearably hot very loudly to Sicheng?”
Jaehyun leans back sighing, covering his face with his hand. “I was tipsy. And it was my first night out with coworkers. Give me a break.”
You giggle. “Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. There were worse incidents that night. An intern threw up on Doyoung’s shoes—I can’t even imagine the horror the poor girl experienced.”
Jaehyun shakes his head, smiling through his hand.
“Have you ever sent nudes?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.
He sighs. “Maybe. Have you?”
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”
He curls his lips. The answer seems to be no but you’re at least seventy percent sure he would be attracted to you in a world where your personality traits weren’t being nosy and annoying.
“Do you think you’re a good kisser?” Jaehyun asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Definitely.”
He scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You cross your arms.
He shrugs, leaning in slightly as though flirting (if he had the audacity). “We could test that.”
You feel your cheeks heat up. “What happened to no kissing in the contract?”
“It’s not officially there.”
You roll your eyes, glancing away. “You know, I’m starting to believe you were some sort of desperate fuckboy in college.”
“I- I was the hottest dude on campus and if we went to the same college, you would be pining after me. I literally had the Campus Prince title and girls would follow me to see me in class.”
He crosses his arms, a frown tugging down his lips.
“Ooh, Jung Yoonoh’s getting fired up,” you say in a monotonous voice. “Wonder how many girls you pulled with your chewed up fuckboy dialogue.”
Jaehyun scoffs but he clearly finds your accusations amusing, as hinted by his unbothered smile. He asks a question again.
“What’s more important to you—truth or happiness?”
The question catches you off-guard. Jaehyun’s eyes are delicately curious, nothing too strong and even so, you find yourself holding your breath under his gaze.
“Huh?”
“Twenty questions. We were playing?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.
“Right.” You clear your throat, rubbing the back of your hand. “I… I’d choose happiness, I think. I’m… I’m not sure.”
“Really?” He doesn’t look too hellbent on taking apart your answer so you breathe out. He’s starting to pry into you finally. “I think the truth will make you happier.”
“That’s not- that’s not always true.” You look away, hoping the quietness of your voice ends the conversation there. You don’t know how to talk about it—you never really have. You’ve ugly cried over the lack of your love life to a stranger after five shots of whiskey but you don’t think you can talk about things like this sober. You don’t even know why you answered. Jaehyun makes you feel oddly comfortable.
Jaehyun shrugs, getting up when the next bus halts in front.
“What did you major in?” you ask, following him.
“Business,” he answers before thinking. “Kind of hated it. But I started out with IT and that was somehow worse.”
You gasp, taking a seat beside him on the bus. “I started with IT too! It was a nightmare. You took that Database Management course?”
Jaehyun smiles. “It was like the course equivalent of reading the back of a Wi-Fi Router.”
You laugh. Maybe he isn’t so different after all.
“You know, you do look like a business major,” you hum, furrowing your brows as you pretend to scrutinise him.
“So, you’re indirectly saying I either look like a rich kid or a jackass.” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.
“They’re both the same thing.”
The laughter from the two of you makes an old woman behind you grunt in displeasure and the two of you apologize. It’s nice to talk like college kids again. The Seoul sunlight shines on Jaehyun’s face and you bite back a smile when his dimples appear. They aren’t all that bad. If you get along like this, there’s no reason to worry about fate and the universe and other superfluous things offered to you on a boring old ceramic plate. It’s a smooth ride.
Your eyes drift to Dongmin’s workspace instinctively and you shake your head. This is exactly why you were avoiding him and even started the entire fake relationship with Jaehyun. You’d choose fake dating a (good-looking) chump from management over embarrassment and possible heartbreak any day.
You groan internally before glancing again and find the desk empty. Surprised, you blink and turn only to scream at Dongmin’s figure behind you.
“Shh!” he says urgently. “Don’t move. And don’t panic when I say this but there’s a bug on your shoulder.”
“What the fuck? Get it off, please,” you say, voice choking up.
Dongmin rolls up a stack of papers and you let out a low screech. “Don’t kill it on my shoulder!”
“Sorry,” he says and your eyes soften as he gently pushes the paper against your shoulder and takes it away. You breathe a sigh of relief and he signs you a thumbs up as he wiggles the paper in the air outside the window.
“You saved me,” you say, smiling.
He returns it, his most beloved eye smile making you wonder if you made the right choice. Wouldn’t it be fun to just crash everything and watch it burn? You know you want to. Benevolence and grace were never your style. However, it’s his smile again that stops you. Maybe you don’t really want to be the bad guy after all. You’re sparing him from confusion and dread.
You’re sparing yourself from rejection and inevitable loneliness (yay).
It’s been a week, discussing details with Jaehyun before the both of you collectively decided to just wing it and hope you’re not caught. After all, there’s no real way to prove you’re not soulmates if you’re careful enough (the same way you can’t prove someone’s cheating if they’re careful enough but that’s quite a depressing analogy). Perhaps if you renounce the soulmate benefits (and Dongmin didn’t smile as often at you), it would be less morally taxing. You, however, are greedy. When you want something, you’ll do anything to get it.
You stare at the computer screen and sigh, cross checking the employee records for incorrect data and your eyelids start to droop. Of all the days, you just had to be assigned the most boring task on a Friday. You also should’ve gotten sleep instead of getting mad at Jaehyun’s dry responses to your plan of action. It was perfectly viable; unnecessary, but perfect nonetheless.
Soojin rolls her chair backwards into yours. “We’re going drinking tonight. Wanna come? You can bring your boy-toy too.”
You roll your eyes. “As much as I’d love to call him that, he’s still the chump from marketing for me.”
“Or,” Soojin emphasizes. “Your actual soulmate. How lucky is it that you work in the same building, in the same company?”
“I’m not sure if you’re being ironic.” You scroll through the database with trained eyes.
“I’m not. A lot of soulmates don’t even get to see each other because of their line of work. It’s so tragic.”
You’d be glad if you didn’t get to see Dongmin ever too. But you’ll keep that to yourself. You hum in response and hear a sigh from behind you.
“Let’s have fun,” she whines. “Is Jaehyun that much of a downer? He’s one of the hottest dudes in the building. I thought you’d be cheery.”
You pause and think to yourself. She does have a point. You’re definitely supposed to look happier. Your soulmate has the looks of a model and fifteen year old you would fawn over him no doubt.
“It’s the work,” you answer. “I’m working overtime to compensate for my rent.”
You work overtime anyway because you hate heading home to an empty apartment.
“Ah, you signed a new lease, right? Near Songpa?” Soojin looks at you with pity and pats your shoulder. “You know what? I’ll treat you to drinks tonight. You deserve a day off, missy.”
You smile. “Thanks, Soojin.”
“And,” she adds in a singsong voice. “The love of your life is here.”
You furrow your eyebrows before tilting your head and almost sighing in exasperation at the figure of Jung Yoonoh outside the glass door. He may not show it, but you know distress when you see it. You’ve seen enough squirming undergraduates at company interviews.
You quickly get up from your seat, praying that he didn’t mess something up. However, you find it cute when he looks like this, the urge to fluster him even more presenting itself to be rather tempting.
“I think you have a sick obsession with me, Jaehyun.” You cross your arms after closing the door behind you.
He exhales, closing his eyes for a moment before taking your arm and pulling you away from the door.
“Woah, this isn’t high school. You can’t just pull me into a corner to make out.”
Jaehyun’s ears flare hot red and he clears his throat. “You’re in high spirits today.”
You weren’t, actually. Somehow, teasing Jaehyun gives you the same rush as caffeine. You just love when the nonchalance on his face turns into discomposure.
“I came to give Doyoung these files. Or you, since you’re practically his assistant.”
You ignore his comment. “There’s clearly something else.”
“The team sports event is coming up,” Jaehyun starts, hesitating. “I’m not managing it this year. I have to participate.”
“So?”
“So Dongmin has a higher chance of finding us out. What if he sees my mark in the changing room and it all goes to shit?”
“Great! He’ll think you’re his soulmate and I’ll be spared from this nonsense.”
“I’m being serious. It’s already difficult living with Sicheng and having to change with my doors locked. It’s kind of suspicious.”
“Do you guys sleep naked with each other or what?”
“No, but I do sleep with my shirt off.”
“Ugh. Why would you give me that image?” you complain. The image isn’t bad per se but it’s not what you need right now.
“You clearly liked it,” he mutters.
You furrow your eyebrows. “You’re not doing this just to give me a load of unnecessary anxiety, are you? Do you know how swamped with work I am?”
“No, of course not,” he answers, no indication of which question he answered. “Also, is there a reason Soojin’s glaring at me?”
You wave your hand in dismissal. “It’s just the haven’t-warmed-up-to-coworker’s-new-boyfriend glare. Don’t worry about it.”
He doesn’t seem too relieved but you have more anxious thoughts invading the privacy of your Friday evening. You have to keep up your composure. It could happen one way or another, perhaps in a situation better than a team sports activity, but you have to figure it out. You reject your soulmate anyway—the same way he would.
Glaring at Jaehyun one last time, you get back to your desk. Jaehyun looks at your receding figure and finds himself checking you out, the largest blow he’s taken to his dignity. He shakes his head, breathing in and out. This is so not like him. He’s supposed to be the suave, handsome guy who people can’t seem to get to and yet—yet, you do it so easily. It’s unfair. He swallows his heart and tells himself he’s too old to feel this way. He’ll just drown himself in work and pretend love is a commodity like everyone else with a corporate job is supposed to.
“You know,” Soojin starts when you get back. “Jaehyun kind of looks high if you look at him long enough. Weed is illegal though but who knows? Maybe he’s a bad boy deep down after all.”
“Which rumour have you been paying attention to now?” You sigh deeply.
Soojin laughs. “It’s funny to hear everyone’s opinions. Even if most of them turn into scandalous tall tales.”
“Anyway,” she continues. “I’m clocking out. I’ll get Jaehyun to take you to the sake bar.”
You look at her, puzzled.
“You’re a matching set now,” she follows up and you groan.
“Don’t give me that cr—”
“Toodle-oo! Let’s have some fun before we’re grey and old, eh?”
You sigh and nod. Maybe you should look into a caffeine fix, even if it costs you a mental power outage at the end of the rush. It’s not like you to be so down on a Friday but alas, Fate is as miserable a woman as you are. The sake bar is starting to sound good.
Or, you could always watch a few ASMR cooking videos instead of staring blankly at the employee records. Either way, this Friday better improve by tonight.
“This is going great,” Soojin says, louder than she probably intended after her fourth shot.
“Of course it is,” you mutter.
You haven’t yet had a chance to drink more because of two reasons: one) Soojin is hogging the alcohol and two) it would be embarrassing to get drunk in front of Jaehyun. Adding to your misery, Soojin has been gushing over her soulmate and the way she always makes breakfast for Soojin, listing off every single recipe she’s made. You would love to listen but you’re a tiny bit past your limit.
“Wooh, Jaehyun, you look hot,” Soojin whistles, in more of an older sister manner. “I can almost see your tattoo. Why don’t the two of you show us at the same time and we can take a commemorative picture?”
You cough loudly. “Mine’s on my waist, Soojin. I’m not ready to expose skin.”
“Right. Sorry.” She turns back at lightning speed to bother Dongmin with her stories, who smiles at her politely. It seems so genuine that you’re slightly enamored with it for a moment. There’s Jungwoo from marketing beside him, some more HR employees and thankfully, no interns. Doyoung is the only one partly miserable in the lot, talking into the phone for half an hour now.
“Shit.” Jaehyun nudges you and whispers, “I forgot about the tattoo. This T-shirt makes it very visible.”
You look at him, alarmed. You fix his jacket, startling him, and pull the zipper all the way to his neck, making sure to backhand him on the chin.
“There.”
“It’s hot in here.”
“What do you want me to do about it? God, you’re like a child.”
“I’m like a—okay. Just cover my tattoo with foundation or something.”
“You think I carry around a whole bottle of foundation?”
Jaehyun blinks, deeming it safer to keep his mouth shut.
“Okay. Fine. I have an idea. Come to the washroom with me.”
“Oh my, this isn’t your making out in the corner type of thing, right?”
You glare at him and he shuts up, following you quietly to the surprisingly clean restroom. The fact that it isn’t gendered makes you very glad. You make Jaehyun sit on the low enough basin counter and push your knee against it to balance yourself as you take out a permanent marker from your bag.
“I hope Doyoung doesn’t fire me for sneaking away,” you mutter angrily. “He didn’t even make me receive his calls all day.”
Jaehyun scoffs lightly. “Please, Doyoung adores you and your work ethic. He talks about it more than what I need to overhear. That and Taeyong’s detailed aquarium maintenance rules.”
“He does?”
Jaehyun clears his throat and you hold back bombing him with more questions till you’re done with painting an arrow into his tattoo.
“Isn’t it weird?” He looks at you with round, curious eyes. “Yours is a heart. Mine’s a pierced heart.”
“Hm. Funny coincidence.”
“Do you have to sit on my lap for this?”
“I’m not sitting on your lap,” you hiss. You are kind of close. You train your eyes on his collarbone as you pull his neckline down.
It would be so embarrassing to be caught like this. You’d rather be caught making out with someone in the broom closet. You hold back a pained sigh. Jaehyun has some nerve speaking to you when you’re already annoyed with him. Couldn’t he just have worn his business attire? Why does he get to go home early? Taeyong is far too lenient a boss. You start swearing internally, getting nervous when you think about the consequences of your actions.
“Has anyone ever filed a complaint against you?” Jaehyun asks, and you nudge his chin upwards to draw the line on his tattoo.
“For what? Being perfect and successful?”
“For that attitude. The ‘take what I want’ attitude.”
You roll your eyes. “No. You’re saying it like I’m awful to the core for trying to take what I want. I haven’t got such a bad soul, you know, as souls go. You wouldn't write articles about how good a soul it is but… it’s well enough.”
Jaehyun raises an eyebrow and you avert your gaze from his eyes. This sort of proximity shouldn’t be bothering you, you shouldn’t be rambling.
The door opens right then and in a fit of panic, you do the unthinkable. You press your lips to Jaehyun’s and pray that whoever walked in has no idea who you are and more importantly, can’t see the permanent marker in your hand.
“I’m so sorry!”
You know that voice. You half regret it when you hear it. Dongmin exits the bathroom as quickly as he entered and you pull away to look at the empty space. Beside you, Jaehyun stays so still that you forget he’s there for a moment. You breathe out in relief though part of you still feels a heavy ounce of regret.
You turn back to Jaehyun and find his doe eyes soft and lost in thought.
“I get it now,” Jaehyun whispers. “It must hurt. That he doesn’t care about the system.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That he’s so reckless about discarding you.”
You separate yourself from him further, standing up and brushing your clothes. “You’re overstepping.”
“Sorry,” he responds quietly.
There’s a pause.
“Did you just kiss me right now?”
“Shut up. I didn’t want him to see us and especially this.” You wave the marker in front of his face.
“You just kissed me in a fit of panic. That’s the first time I’ve seen someone respond to panic this way.” Jaehyun looks a little too smug.
“What are you implying?”
“You wanted to kiss me.”
You scoff. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”
You want to knock the smile right off his face but you stick to flicking his forehead, his yell of surprise satisfying. This Friday night was supposed to get better. In fact, you are going to make it better if life won’t. The soju won’t drink itself and you deem that Soojin has had enough.
Ignoring Dongmin’s confused look, you order far too many soju shots to be considered healthy. As you promised yourself, you are going to make this Friday better.
//
You just had to go and get drunk. Jaehyun stares at you, blinking slowly and wondering just how much you can embarrass yourself before it becomes a burden for him. He has to get you home; you’re practically a matching set now. But are the halves of a pair supposed to take care of the other when they get drunk?
“You know what, guys?” You announce, standing up abruptly and immediately getting pulled back to your seat by Jaehyun. It doesn’t stop your mouth however.
“I hate the stupid system,” you continue. “To tell the truth—”
He smacks his hand over your mouth. Jaehyun has had enough of the silent mini heart attacks you give him. The rest look at him with puzzled looks and he can’t even bring himself to give them a polite smile before dragging you out of the bar. The night breeze is cold enough—maybe it’ll sober you up.
"You're so annoying, Jaehyun," you mutter, massaging your forehead. "Did you know that?"
Or maybe it won’t.
"Never heard that before."
"How do you always keep to yourself and still be the center of attention?" You cling to his arm for balance.
"Have you considered that maybe a polite man isn't as scheming as you think he is?"
You curl your lips. "Stop using big sentences. I hate that I barely know you, and I know everyone."
Jaehyun purses his lips. "You just enjoy the power that comes with figuring people out. Don't you?"
"Whatever you say. I want life to be a nice and smooth ride but then again, I can't even face my soulmate." You let out an airy laugh. "I didn't really need one though."
Jaehyun laughs in disbelief. "You look like you're dying of loneliness."
"Ooh, that's a big claim, Yoonoh."
"You say I keep to myself but what about you? You like hiding, don't you?"
You laugh. "Is this the part where I say we're nothing alike?"
He purses his lips, shaking his head in dismissal. He's just tired of chit-chat with someone who smells like she robbed a liquor store in Itaewon.
“You must think I’m some sort of selfish, vapid, work-obsessed overachiever,” you continue, tilting your head with a blank look in your eyes.
“Well, not exac—”
“But guess what? Your opinions are invalid, Jung Yoonoh. You’re just some chump from marketing. A very good-looking chump but still.”
Jaehyun swears under his breath as you fling your arms open in the same manner a speech-giving patriot fighting for freedom would. Unfortunately, the freedom struggle is private in this day and age, and you just smacked him in the nose instead.
You sigh deeply and he looks at you again, warily now as he holds his nose.
“You’re not exactly wrong either. I’m so empty. Like a bottle of soju with no soju. Could you bring me some?”
Jaehyun massages his temples and solidifies his resolve. He’s had enough stares from people on the sidewalk. With delicate concern, he holds you up with one arm around your waist, balancing your weight evenly so you can stand. Promptly, you bury your face into his neck and an embarrassing, high-pitched squeak evades the filter of his mouth. You’re just so adept at making his days (and nights) worse.
Jaehyun tries his best to carry you to the parking lot without any signs of struggle but good lord, are you uncooperative. Once he’s down lugging you to the passenger seat, he breathes out in relief at long last and makes sure you don’t fold in over yourself dozing off the seat. Getting you to sit up, he finds himself smiling the slightest bit at your smudged lipstick. Even like this, you’re quite pretty.
Realizing what thought came over him, he shakes his head vigorously as if he’s committing a horrible crime. He just has to get you home—Soojin had texted him the address prior to the outing just in case—and then he can go back to pretending whatever he even is supposed to.
The sports event is really just HR and Management trying to one-up the other in a more quantitative way. You’re not really fond of the sweat and heavy breathing that comes with physical exertion if it’s for the sake of competition. Competition is such a childish, masculine way of handling things, especially emotions.
HR is leading in wins, however and that means you have something to rub in Jaehyun’s face. You hate participating but you’re not allowed to opt out without a medical certificate. At least one competition, and you had to choose the three-legged race. All these potential partners, and Dongmin had to choose you.
“I’ll win,” you tell Jaehyun, stopping by him once you exit the changing room. The indoor stadium is usually a recreational facility for senior employees but on sports day, it’s closer to a gladiator arena. The seats are green and occupied by grinning employees, most of them glad for a day off but also upset they don’t get to attend their personal affairs in it.
Jaehyun stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Shouldn’t it be a ‘we’? You need a partner. Oh, are you sad you can’t pick me?”
“Not at all.” You cross your arms, annoyed at his mock pity.
Right then, Dongmin jogs up to you in a blue tracksuit. His hair sticks to his forehead because unlike you, he takes sports very seriously. Jaehyun, on the other hand, just seems to enjoy the competition. As a guilty pleasure, you’d like to see the two of them compete one day. That would be a competition worth betting on.
“I’ll have to borrow your soulmate.” Dongmin laughs. “The race is starting.”
Life strikes again with its poorly timed irony.
“Don’t mind me,” Jaehyun says politely.
The race is easier than you thought it would be considering most of the other employees struggle with teamwork. You’re the HR team for a reason. But then again, you feel a certain hollowness pervade you while you’re pressed to Dongmin’s side. Wouldn’t it be nice?
All you can think is that Dongmin and you are perfectly in sync. The realization comes off as sad despite your victory and the wide grins on both of your faces.
Jaehyun purses his lips and gives the two of you a nonchalant look. He’s avoided getting caught in the changing room quite well. For some reason, he’s glad that you’re winning but also dissatisfied about it. He would certainly feel different if he were participating in that race, wouldn’t he? He would win. Losing a competition is a huge blow to his ego. Lately, he seems to be losing a lot of races. The two of you have been growing closer and he doesn’t mind late night discussions about flawed systems and childhood memories; but the fact that you’re growing on him is something for him to be on edge about. He’s never felt so close to someone, and still so far.
“Oh, they have good chemistry, don’t they?” Doyoung comments beside Jaehyun, before taking a sip from his bottle.
“What chemistry?” Jaehyun snaps and Doyoung almost chokes on the water.
“Chill out, man.” Doyoung eyes Jaehyun’s figure in concern. “She’s like officially yours.”
Jaehyun refuses in a series of sputtering responses. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not jealous. I’m not that kind of man.”
“I didn’t paint you as that kind of man either,” Doyoung mutters before speaking up. “But love, Jaehyun. Love’s a weird thing.”
Jaehyunn ignores his comment and walks down to the grounds, jogging up to you. He immediately forgets to say anything at all. Smooth move, Yoonoh.
You just stick out your tongue at him subtly.
“I told you we’d win,” you say.
Jaehyun crosses his arms. “Congratulations. I thought you, quote, hate this stupid competition for dunces.”
You clear your throat and Dongmin laughs beside you. Before he can offer his bottle, Jaehyun offers his own in a rush. You raise an eyebrow but don’t question it.
“You guys really are a perfect pair.” Dongmin laughs. “Sometimes I wish Mijoo was my soulmate.”
You give him a pitiful smile. There go your happy feelings of victory.
“But I’m happy this way.” Dongmin nudges your shoulder with his. “Don’t give me that look.”
That is not the look he thinks you were giving. You smile.
“What about this? We can go on a double date! Those are fun, right?” Dongmin muses, crossing his arms.
“No,” you and Jaehyun refuse in a panic, and Dongmin blinks in confusion at the overwhelming response.
“I'm more of a homebody,” you explain.
“Yeah, me too,” Jaehyun agrees.
It makes Dongmin laugh aloud. “Oh, fate didn’t go wrong with the two of you.”
Your smile wavers. Did it go so wrong with you and Dongmin? Jaehyun’s hand brushes yours and you look at him. A perfect side profile and flushed hot cheeks with dimples to die for. You wouldn’t mind being in love with him. You don’t mind love much at all.
Shaking off the thought, you watch as Dongmin leaves the two of you to run to the changing rooms. Eyeing Jaehyun’s red team sweatshirt with “Management” in big typography over the chest, you look back up to his face.
“Why did you jog over here so desperately?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Jealous?”
“Yes. I am irreparably in love with you.”
He leans in quickly and you flinch, making his dimples show up.
“Asshole,” you curse. “I’ll file you for harassment. Don’t do that again.”
“Isn’t it harassment when you feel me up while you draw—” Jaehyun leans in to whisper. “—the soulmark?”
“I would never have my hands near your greasy existence if I could,” you huff, scandalized.
But the thing is, Jaehyun is getting better at this game of flustering each other and you don’t like it one bit.
“Hey, you know Dongmin’s girlfriend?” he asks suddenly.
You nod. “Kind of. I’ve seen her pictures on Instagram.”
Jaehyun pauses before humming in realization.
You cough. “Not that I was stalking them or something. Obviously.”
Jaehyun gives you a knowing smile but doesn’t question anything, much to your aggravation. It would’ve been better if you had a chance to prove you weren’t stalking them but then again, that is exactly what you were doing.
“Well, we went to the same college. Same major too.”
“Are you serious? Wait, how do you know? Does this mean you stalked their Instagram too?”
“Too?”
“Shut up.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“She’s not exactly the evil homewrecker type,” he says.
“I know that,” you snap. If anything, you feel like the evil homewrecker even if Dongmin’s supposed to be your soulmate.
They’re so reckless. Jaehyun was right—you do blame them in a way. They don’t care who they trample under their nauseating parade of romance. But then again, that parade is better than a personal rejection.
“I’m just saying… don't hold it against them.”
“I don’t remember asking for advice, Jung Yoonoh.”
Jaehyun shrugs, dropping the issue. The preparations for the next race is starting and it has something to do with passing balls from basket to basket—you get bored already when you see Doyoung stretch before shaking hands with Taeyong.
“Wanna get ice-cream? We funded the food truck this year.” Jaehyun looks expectantly at you.
“Sure.”
You contemplate holding his hand for a moment but let that thought bury itself. You don’t have to pretend right now.
Much to your despair (or delight) however, Jaehyun takes your hand absentmindedly as he walks towards the exit. It’s not that you’ve never held hands before, it’s just that Jaehyun’s skin is soft against yours.
“I can’t believe you and Mijoo were in the same course.”
It seems she’s ahead of you in every direction you look to tread on. Of course, you will not be telling Jaehyun that. You don’t exactly feel jealousy—can’t feel jealousy when your life is perfect as it is. And for Jaehyun? You hate to admit it but you’d trade places with Mijoo any day.
“Well, she didn’t really like socializing back then so I didn’t know we were in the same program either.”
You chuckle, glancing down at your intertwined fingers despite your best efforts. It feels nice like this. It feels nice to be wanted by someone—even if it’s a lie.
“Do you think- Do you think they’re brave?” You ask. “They didn’t even hesitate to disregard the system.”
“I think people in love are always brave.”
You hum, looking down at your feet. All the more reason the system fucked up. You were never even supposed to be partnered up. You’re not brave—the face you put on is. The idea of love seems to get further and further away from you.
Just then, Jaehyun tugs at your hand, walking slightly faster and making you complain as you jog to catch up with his long strides. The food truck is fairly large, on the street outside to the stadium entrance. February is catching up with its heat and you curse at global warming for this hot winter day.
“You can take up to five scoops of different flavours,” he informs you, grinning sheepishly. “I guess the cups aren’t large enough for beyond that.”
“I didn’t know you were this passionate about ice-cream,” you say.
“Sicheng rubbed off on me.”
You laugh. IT must have given Sicheng enough stress to develop a sweet tooth. You love the HR Department when you look at the others in your company.
Jaehyun has a nice smile. You don’t know why you think that but you do and now you can’t focus on anything apart from the pink dust sprinkled over his cheeks and the handsome dimples that accompany. You don’t want to stare but clearly, Jaehyun must have been blessed by some divide being if not for fate. Maybe he’s a mess up like you. As far as you know, his soulmate doesn’t exist. That little red heart is so simple that none of the soulmate designs match it.
A rather repulsing part of you is happy about it. You like the feel of Jaehyun’s hands. You like the way he looks at you. You wouldn’t mind it if he were yours.
Jaehyun’s house is as cosy as his mother makes you feel. It’s been a while since you’ve been home and if you were perhaps less emotionally constipated, you would have tears welling up in your eyes. There’s quite a few relatives too but then again, every Asian family jumps at the chance to celebrate something as mediocre as engagements and marriage and soulmate findings. Apparently, hormones are perfectly fine to them once you’re not teenagers anymore.
This isn’t so bad. What was so scary about meeting parents again? Jaehyun’s dad did challenge you with a questionnaire but lucky for you, you know exactly how interviews work. You’ve got enough information on Jaehyun from the man himself for this visit. The briefing he gave you was boring though; you already know what you need to know about Jaehyun.
You sit at the table, while most of the other guests work in the kitchen. Jaehyun’s mother asks you questions about your life, friendly and welcoming in every way possible. Mothers are truly god-sent. You wonder how she produced someone as far from divine as Jaehyun. (Except in looks, perhaps.)
You say that out loud and get a sharp quip from Jaehyun, his mother’s eyes lighting up at your childish interaction.
“Oh my, fate is never wrong!” She remarks with a wide smile. “I’ve never seen Jaehyun open up so much with anyone before. He was such a shy boy in school, you know? All the girls would send letters and confessions and he would just turn red in the face.”
“Mom.” He smiles all too sweet at her but you can see the panic in his eyes.
She rolls her eyes before turning to you. “Darling, you have no idea how proud I feel to see him this at ease. I was honestly getting tired of all the ‘your son is so polite and well-mannered’ comments. Some bickering ought to do him good.”
“Mom,” he repeats, straightening. “I think auntie needs some help setting up the table.”
“Don’t shoo me away yet. I have to tell (name) about the time you were elected class representative in middle school. And all those sports and acting awards.”
“You don’t have to advertise me, Mom,” he says, dropping his face into his hands to rub at his eyes, already growing tired. “I’m already- I’m already hers.”
His mother coos and apart from the expected deep red flush on Jaehyun’s skin, you find yourself feeling hot in the face too. Jaehyun’s aunt calls for his mother right then and you watch as she makes her way to the kitchen entrance, the two women glancing at you and giggling to each other over some shared words.
Jaehyun takes the opportunity to grab your hand and walk away to a more obscure part of the house upstairs. With significantly less relatives, it should be a good hiding spot unless discovered by his giggling cousins that he refuses to introduce you to.
“Aw, what a shy baby,” you coo, smiling at the thought of a younger, easily-flustered Jaehyun.
His ears are bright red and you think that he’s still easily flustered. He just doesn’t show it much anymore—there’s only one dead giveaway.
“Forget everything my mom said,” he instructs. “It’s not important information.”
“Oh, no, darling. Your mother is a gold mine of vital information. You know what? I’m going to go chat her up right now. I’m sure you were quite the teenage dream I should know about.”
Jaehyun grips your wrist before you can escape, pulling your closer.
“Don’t.”
You don’t know if it’s the proximity or the fact that there are most definitely a few family members that could walk in right now—but you find yourself embarrassed as you look at his face. It’s very pleasant, handsome even, and the strands of his hair look irresistibly soft from this distance. You reach your hand out and brush the hair out of his eyes, almost instinctively.
“You have nice eyes, Jaehyun,” you say out loud, not sure why. He doesn’t fluster this time but it makes you all the more aware of your nearness.
Your eyes glance at the bottom of the staircase to see a little girl, around nine, hiding from behind the wall that separates the dining room and the kitchen. You return your gaze to Jaehyun with a smirk.
"We should kiss right now. Your little cousin's watching."
Jaehyun looks mildly disgusted. "Why would I want to kiss you in front of my cousin?"
You roll your eyes. “You don't get it, do you? The fastest way to convince a family is through rumours.”
Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "So?"
"Oh my god, you're an idiot. Nosy cousins are the most effective way to spread rumours."
"Ah." Jaehyun looks enlightened enough for you to continue.
"Okay, but first you need to have these mints." You take out the emergency mints from your purse.
"What? I don't need mints. I have nice smelling breath.”
"Everyone needs mints, Jaehyun. Especially men."
Jaehyun sighs heavily. You take the opportunity to grab his wrist and pull him into a corner.
"Have this mint or else."
You hold his face between your thumb and forefingers, cheeks squishing under the pressure as you force a mint in. He lets you do it for some reason, looking lost as he gazes at you.
You raise an eyebrow. "Oh my, you're enjoying this. Pervert."
"Wha—what? You have to stop thinking you're hot shit, oh my god. I just got distracted for a bit."
"By me, right?"
"No! I just zoned ou—you're enjoying this."
You bite down your smile but a giggle escapes you anyway. Jaehyun rolls his eyes though he smiles, looking far too close to irresistible when his dimples show.
"You can't keep teasing me," he says, voice low.
"I've been doing it for two years. I'm pretty sure I can do it for at least two more."
Jaehyun scoffs, laughing at your statement. "You know what? I'm going to get back at you from now on. I've been so lenient."
You snort before pressing the back of your fingers to your nose. "You? You're going to get back at me? You’re good at lip service, Jaehyun."
“Huh. You might be right about that.”
There's a beat of silence and you look at him expectantly. In the next beat of your heart (or lack thereof), he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours, surprising the life out of you as your back hits the wall. It's not just a touch either, his mouth moves over yours and when your knees feel weak, you reluctantly admit that the rumour about Jung Yoonoh being a good kisser is true. Maybe his body count isn't a lower-end single digit after all.
He pulls apart with a short smile tugging at his lips. "Satisfied?"
You sputter out a response before clearing your throat. “I- I don’t think anyone really saw us in this corner.”
Jaehyun makes a low humming sound. “Or you could just say you want me to kiss you again? I know I’m a good kisser.”
“Fuck off.” You punch his chest, eliciting a quiet grunt from him.
You move away from him, peeking from behind the wall. Oh, she saw it alright. The giggling gives it away and the fact that a few more younger cousins have gathered. This is ridiculous. The fact that you wouldn’t mind more is even worse.
You turn back to Jaehyun with steel-set eyes. “No more kissing. Ever. Never again. Kissing is officially banned.”
Jaehyun looks perplexed. “I thought that was a good kiss. Did you not enjoy it? What do you mean no kissing?”
“And I take it back.” The heat on your face is still burning steadily.
“Oh, I see. You liked it so much that you’re embarrassed.”
“You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“So I’m right?”
You roll your eyes and quickly walk down the stairs, a few words of complaint left hanging in the air as Jaehyun follows behind, stumbling over the steps.
Jaehyun likes how comfortable this is. He doesn’t mind glaring daggers at each other but this is fun too. It’s like he doesn’t have to be careful about the lines he might be crossing—there aren’t any damn lines at all. He can’t call it love, at least not by definition, but something is there. Something that is solid enough and heavy enough. Something he would be ready to hold on to.
You laugh at a joke Jaehyun’s dad makes. A family is the only place to feel at home. It might not be yours but maybe at the end of the night, you can convince them to disown Jaehyun and adopt you as their child instead. His cousins seem to be interested in the same things you were as a high schooler and it surprised you. Your job lets you advise the older cousins in a fairly friendly fashion. The little ones seem to like your dress and you find them far too adorable with their pink cheeks and dimples, much like Jaehyun’s. Speaking of which, he definitely got them from his dad. You look around and wonder how Jaehyun has so many female cousins and not an inkling about how women work.
It doesn’t hurt anymore that Dongmin discarded you so recklessly.
He’s wrong. Jaehyun’s wrong. It doesn’t hurt—didn’t hurt right now at the very least. When Jaehyun kissed you, you didn’t think of Dongmin or his girlfriend or anyone else. You thought that Jaehyun’s skin is somehow always the right temperature.
You shake your head. Jaehyun drives your getaway car and you shouldn’t get too comfortable in its worn-out leather seats. This shouldn’t be any different to you; you aren’t supposed to find love in every corner. This was all a survival instinct.
The more stories Jaehyun’s mother shares with you over dinner, the more you find it comfortable to be here. You don’t feel this welcome in your own apartment (although, there isn’t exactly anyone else living there but you and the goddamn pigeon that wakes you up at six in the morning). The more the night progresses, the more you want to believe in this lie. Jaehyun glances at you from time to time, his gaze neither uncomfortable nor harsh and you smile at him when he does. Right now, there is no loneliness and the air is warm and smells of freshly cooked food; the way familial love works is such a mystery. You feel content.
“Why are we doing this again?” you lean in and ask Jaehyun, eyes focused on the TV as he tries to fix it.
“Because I need to get out of work, and fulfilled soulmates get a day off on Valentine’s day.”
You nod. “Your apartment kind of stinks. I feel sorry for Sicheng.”
“This is clean,” he defends, pointing at the lack of any visible mess in his room. His work table, however, has too many items scattered over it to be called neat. There’s a fairly large TV attached to the wall and you’re a little jealous about it. You only ever watch shows on your (quite beloved albeit small) laptop. The blinds aren’t fully closed, the evening city lights trying their best to pry their pervasive fingers in and add something more to the peach hue of Jaehyun’s room.
The doorbell rings just in estimated time for food delivery, a sigh leaving your mouth along with a ‘finally’. His place is strangely comfortable and much less of the war zone that you expected. There’s no reason to feel awkward, really, or even the bubbling in your stomach. You’re not seventeen, in your crush’s house. Jaehyun isn’t even someone you like that way.
It’s just two friends hanging out and watching a movie and doing other friendly activities. Two friends hanging out on Valentine's day. Two friends who have kissed more than once.
What do lovers do anyway?
This thing with Jaehyun has turned into clandestine smiles at the office building, subtle texts of ‘did you eat?’ and ‘good morning, idiot’, racing hearts at brushing hands on the occasional off-work hangouts (you refuse to call them “dates”) and overall, a lot more pink hearts floating over his head when you see him. It’s positively appalling.
You don’t mind it one bit.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” The delivery man wishes as he leaves and you feel a sudden rage bubble up in you.
“Ah, does he think every couple celebrates Valentine’s day? And just because we’re in the same apartment means we’re a couple? Wow.” You cross your arms, scoffing. “Who’s he to wish me?”
“Why… Why are you getting mad?” Jaehyun asks quietly, slightly confused.
You glare at him, your anger not quite dissipated and walk back into his room, placing the box of confectionaries on the bedside table with a loud thud. Jaehyun follows, placing the drinks rather clumsily beside it. He gives you one last look of concern before settling down on his bed.
You let out another huff of complaint.
"Does everything have to be heart-shaped?"
You stare at the nauseating display of baked goods delivered in a pretty heart-shaped box. The brownie is in a clear plastic box that has a tiny bouquet of hearts atop it, the coffee cups have heart stickers around the rim, and the pastry itself is heart-shaped or rather, two halves of a heart. One of them is strawberry pink and the other chocolate brown.
“You seem… suddenly fired up,” Jaehyun comments quietly.
You don’t really care if you look crazy to him right now; he’s already seen the worse parts of you. You’re just so annoyed at all this red and pink that was delivered. Aren’t cafes supposed to stick with that beige-cream palette?
While you contemplate, Jaehyun tears the little sugar packet and attempts to open the lid of the cup at the same time, your blood pressure rising at the sight because you were half sure he’d spill the drink. After much difficulty, he shakes the packet trying to get just enough sugar but of course, like the clumsy oaf he is, he misses almost entirely, spilling sugar over his coffee table. It’s oddly endearing but that’s a thought you’ll keep to yourself.
He turns to you with a sheepish grin and you give him a look of distaste.
“You are a sorry excuse of a person, Jaehyun.”
“Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t mess this up.”
You turn to look him in the eyes, the honey shade alluring under warm apartment lights. They really are pretty.
“I, and every other sane human being, would not mess up adding sugar to a cup of coffee.”
“You faltered for a moment there.”
That was not the reason you faltered. You roll your eyes and look away, taking a sip of your drink and sighing at the taste.
“How do you even like Americanos? Don’t you like a bit of cream and sweetness?”
“I don’t really care for bitterness,” he answers.
“Wow, you must be a masochist.”
“And it’s quite obvious you’re a sadist.”
You snicker. “That makes us quite the pair.”
“I would like that sentence in a non-BDSM context, thank you.”
Jaehyun turns on the TV and the Netflix logo animation pops up. You raise an eyebrow at his ‘Continue Watching’ list, eyeing Bridegerton and Sweet Home, and wondering if he could be any more of an enigma. You can’t possibly figure him out at this point. You groan when he picks a title.
“Ugh. Do we have to watch a romantic comedy?”
“What? They’re funny. And I thought you liked those 2000’s movies.”
You believed in unicorns and sock goblins and love back then too. These days, you hate to see other people in love, especially when it’s fake. The movies you loved are now the movies you hate. The couples you eyed with delight at parks and cafes are now the bane of your existence. In fact, you’d go as far as to say that you enjoy the digital fireworks from a couple having a massive online breakup. Things falling apart are entertaining when it’s not happening to you.
You purse your lips. Can't you see other people happy without wanting to tear it down for yourself?
“Fine. But I’ll pick the 2000’s romcom.”
Jaehyun shrugs and hands over the remote. You see Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds on the poster and click on it immediately. The Proposal has a good enough comedy to romance ratio, in your opinion.
“I’m kind of surprised you came,” he says quietly.
“Why?” You raise an eyebrow. “Is it because of the suggestive nature of visiting someone’s apartment on Valentine’s day? Did you think we’d be doing something… more fun?”
You lean in and bat your eyelashes suggestively, although you’re clearly joking.
“I think you should know better than to get mouthy with me,” he answers as he leans in further, making your heartbeat hike at the proximity. Maybe he’s figured you out. Wouldn’t it be so nice to figure each other out at the same time—like puzzle pieces fitting together?
You move away from him. “Well, it’s not like I can go anywhere else. And I didn’t want to stay in my own apartment.”
“Maybe you enjoy my company?”
“Look, I would be sipping my coffee at a perfectly aesthetic cafe if it weren’t Valentine’s day.”
He raises an eyebrow at your nonsensical declaration and you sigh, trying to explain yourself.
“Cafes just terrorize the single folk on Valentine’s day. You should always go with Netflix,” you say.
“And chill?”
“Do you even know what that means?”
“As I’ve told you so many times, I am not stupid.”
You inhale, an idea presenting itself.
“Hey, since we’re technically a couple, shouldn’t you be sharing your Netflix password with me?” you ask, pressing your lips into your cutest smile.
“No.”
“You’re so stingy,” you mutter. It was worth a shot.
Jaehyun laughs, your hand reaching out to poke his dimples but you stop yourself. You weren’t supposed to get this comfortable. This wasn’t your place to be. Lost in thought, the moving screen leaves you unfazed and you can’t look at him anymore. However, Jaehyun reaches out right then and wipes at the space beside your lips, your focus lifting from the beginning scenes of The Proposal and latching onto Jaehyun’s lips.
There’s a pause, your head clearing itself of thoughts when you make eye contact with him. Soft hair, doe eyes, full lips and dimples—he’s so damn attractive, it hurts your existence. Does he have to be this close to you? You have mixed feelings about that look in his eyes.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispers suddenly.
“Yes,” you answer.
If you look from a rational point of view, you should not have said that. You should have said anything but that. But you don’t want to think right now. Jaehyun’s touch is warm over your skin as his hand rests under your jaw and the other on your waist.
You should not have said that. But you feel loved.
Somewhere along, you find yourself parting only to kiss again, the feeling of skin so delightful in a way you’ve never experienced. Your shirt hikes up and you see Jaehyun eye the little heart with the arrow—the sign you so despised with a gentle smile.
“It’s pretty,” he whispers.
It’s pretty but it isn’t his. He doesn’t have to look at you like that—he’s come a long way from nervous glances and now he’s the one making you nervous. Just say it isn’t love and it will be alright.
You part, sobering up for a moment and you disentangle your limbs to sit at the side of his bed.
“What’s- What’s wrong?” Jaehyun whispers.
You exhale.
“All my life, I wait and when it comes, it’s all wrong,” you say, staring at your lap. Self-pity is the most disgusting kind of pity to feel. You’re past crying at things like this. You’re past crying for an ounce of romance, every time you listen to a love song on the radio or look at an Instagram post of a couple or pass by lovers on the sidewalk content with each other. You don’t even have cats to return home to. Modern loneliness is wearing you down but you can’t believe in fairytales anymore.
He scoffs, smiling bitterly. “I don’t even know if this is worth losing my dignity over.”
“Jaehyun—”
“We can’t pretend anymore—I can’t pretend anymore,” Jaehyun exhales. “I want you enough to forget the system. Give me an answer. Please.”
You don’t mind forgetting the system right now. Jaehyun’s lips are always the right temperature; the warmth of his body seeps through his shirt as you press yourself to him in a hug. He’s perfect and right now, you want to believe he’s perfect for you—even if he isn’t, you want to believe it into existence.
You cup Jaehyun’s cheeks, unsaid emotion in his doe eyes, and kiss him. This time, you mean it with every ounce of your being. There’s no more flustering each other, just the hot flush of intimacy when you feel skin that doesn’t burn you. It’s just the right feeling. There’s no way this can be wrong.
Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? You wish the voice would pipe down. It’s a coward, fearing fate just as everyone else does. But you are better than that, and this feeling is too enjoyable to let go. You don’t want this to fade.
Just then, Dongmin’s face comes to mind and you think that maybe if you kiss someone else with all you have, you don’t have to think of your shortcomings ever again.
Jaehyun pulls apart and you miss the warmth.
“You’re not… You’re not thinking of me, are you?” he asks.
You don’t answer, even if the silence is overwhelming.
“I’d rather not have you close your eyes and think of someone else when I’m in front of you.”
“I’m sorry” is all you can say.
“You can at least pretend to love me.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. “Could. It’s not like this was ever supposed to work out.”
You gulp, looking away. “Jaehyun, come on. That’s not like you. We were- we were just… having fun.”
He takes a deep breath. “It hurts to not be wanted by someone you want. You know that. So why are you doing this to me?”
Because misery likes company.
“I’m sorry.”
It seems the phrase you barely uttered when you were younger is tumbling out of your lips in a mixture of grief and pity. Perhaps it’s karma. Perhaps it’s fate. Perhaps it’s just the consequences of your mistakes.
Jaehyun parts his lips, a sigh departing. He leans in again, pushing away all of his thoughts. A little more hurt won't kill him tonight. How and when did you bring him down to his knees?
However, he's stopped by your hands against his shoulders, his lips hovering over yours.
"Let's stop," you say. "You're right."
"Isn't this what you wanted?"
“I don’t- I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”
You wish you could be brave enough to burn the instruction pamphlet from destiny. But right now, you need to get away from Jaehyun, away from any more misery business.
“I’ll get going,” you say, gathering your stuff.
Jaehyun hesitates but doesn’t stop you. He would never stop you, can’t stop so how could he even dream of stopping fate? This can never work out. It felt right in the moment but you don’t know anything more than that. You can’t close your eyes and pray everything disappears. No one else will solve your problems for you, you know that.
It’s time you start fixing the mess you made. You leave with a polite goodbye and hear a loud sigh behind you once the door is closed. Blinking away the urge to walk back in, you take long and quick strides to the elevator. You’re going to fix this.
Maybe if Lady Gaga’s ‘Poker Face’ wasn’t blasting at full volume at this stupid office party, you could be thinking a little straighter.
He was right. You can’t pretend anymore. There were thousands of ways this could have gone better. You didn’t have to pretend to be soulmates when you’re not. You could’ve discarded your belief in the whole system like Dongmin and Mijoo and dated someone out of spite. You didn’t have to drag Jaehyun into your sorry mess. You need to take out the nail you hammered into your own foot.
It’s the first time you’ve visited the rooftop restaurant from the company’s subsidiary chain of high-end restaurants but you imagined it would be bigger. It’s the news’ fault for making this place seem like a football field. However, you might be feeling that way because the distance between you and Jaehyun is suffocatingly small as is the distance with Dongmin. You don’t need to see Jaehyun tonight.
You don’t intend to make your confession a public affair and you certainly don’t believe in tack things like atonement. However, improvement begins with a step in the right direction. Maybe you’ll be a better person after this. Maybe you’ll still be as annoying and pushy as ever. You need to get it off your chest so you can proceed with the already tedious journey that comes with a soulmate rejection. You wonder why there’s so many man-made laws about soulmates when fate has made it complicated enough as it is. Love is the same as legalese when it comes to this system.
You flit about the crowds, smiling and greeting people and swerving away from Jaehyun every time he tries to approach you. You’re trying to make a good decision for once. He better not intrude. You’re wearing pink too, for the first time in a while: a satin shirt, pants and blazer set in dull pink.
“Dongmin,” you say, pulling him by the sleeve of his blue tux, and away from the rest of the HR team. “I have to show you something.”
“Hm? Show me?” He blinks at you.
You get him to follow you to the inside the premises, stopping when you’re far into a
“Uh?” Dongmin looks around before leaning in to whisper. “You’re not plotting to murder me, are you?”
You blink, and he laughs at you incredulously. “Why are you so serious?”
“I was lying,” you rush. “With Jaehyun. He’s not my soulmate. You are.”
Dongmin blinks in confusion. “Are… you joking? That was a weird joke but it could pass as funny—”
“Dongmin.”
You pull out your shirt from your pants, exposing the tattoo on your hip. It’s the little arrowed heart that has been plaguing you for years but now when you look at it, you feel no animosity. After all, it’s been through the same things you have.
Dongmin’s face falls into stunned silence, eyes fixated on your waist.
“That’s- That’s my—what is this?”
Russian roulette is certainly not the same without a gun.
“I lied, Dongmin,” you answer, fixing your shirt back in. “I was so afraid of your rejection that I made an even larger fool of myself.”
His initial shock seems to have partly subsided.
“You… Why didn’t you tell me?” He looks momentarily hurt.
“You have Mijoo, Dongmin. I can’t ruin something like that.”
A love that doesn’t need fate to fix it.
Dongmin glances away in guilt and sighs, though the sound is croaky. This must be more than what he can take.
“I’m sorry,” he says, haltingly. “I hurt you, didn’t I? When I thought I was being brave, I hurt you instead.”
You smile bitterly. “We all hurt someone, Dongmin. I still have to fix that one for myself.”
He scans your face, lips trembling slightly as unspoken words die on them.
“We’ll tend to the legal stuff later, hm? No compensation. We can file a mutual rejection.”
“But—”
“Shh. I’m happy enough as coworkers and I get paid more than enough for this job. Might get a promotion soon too.”
You wink at him with an added finger gun, trying to play it cool. Despite everything, a weight feels lifted from your shoulders. Now that you are truly alone, you might as well embrace this growing loneliness crawling under your skin. Discomfort could be something you can get used to.
When you get back to the warmly lit rooftop, the HR team looks at you curiously. You have the most self-destructive thought you’ve had in a while and tell yourself, you might as well if you've come this far. This is it. This is your social death. Honesty is the best policy, unfortunately.
“Dongmin and I have the same soulmate mark,” you announce. “We’re soulmates but we’ll sign a mutual rejection.”
Doyoung looks almost like he’ll faint and Soojin’s mouth is so wide open, you could practice throwing some mini basketballs in. This is your team—almost a second family, and it’s time you stop trying to hide yourself or disguise your feelings as something they’re not. They’ll get over it, as will you.
“J-Jaehyun?” Soojin looks to your side and you turn to find Jaehyun frowning.
“You could’ve discussed this with me,” he says, an odd sound of relief in his laugh.
It hurts to look at him but you muster up your strength.
“I’m sorry,” you say, facing him. “I didn’t want to drag you into this hell with me.”
Into this loveless hell made for you.
“(name).”
It’s so painfully quiet in this corner; there are so many eyes on you and only the hurt taking shape in Jaehyun’s eyes knock some sense into you.
“I’ll leave first,” you say, bowing as you take your leave.
You brisk up your pace and exit the venue as quickly as you can and into the building corridor.
Unfortunately for you, you recognize the pair of footsteps that follow you—both of them having their timings wrong. Boys don’t chase after the girl when she’s walking away. Boys should leave a girl alone when she feels like she’s about to cry.
You turn to face two men and groan internally. This is the worst possible situation—you’d rather crawl into a hole than look at either of them. The corporate light shines harshly on either of their faces but the look on them is so earnest, you want to close your eyes and scream. You don’t mind being alone. You were overstepping when you wished you weren’t.
“(name),” Dongmin starts. “I’m sorry it turned out this way. If you’d told me, we could have talked this out.”
A light scoff leaves Jaehyun and Dongmin purses his lips. It’s kind of funny watching both of their tall frames in hesitant postures and you cross your arms. You’re going to deal with this quickly like you always should have. If you’re dealing with fate, you need to have a clear head—and fortune doesn’t favour fools. Being with Jaehyun was nice but he is not yours. Dongmin may have been assigned to you but you’d rather not ruin someone’s relationship.
“What would we have talked about?” you ask. “Compensation charges? Apologies?”
You see a hint of positivity on Jaehyun’s face and turn to face him, frowning.
“And you. Don’t look so smug. You’re the reason I realized this crap. It hurts. Like hell.”
He opens his mouth but no words come when he’s far too taken aback. He can’t offer consolation now, not after everything. You knew this would happen. You would undoubtedly end up wishing you didn’t fall in love with him on the day you leave.
“(name). Listen to me,” Dongmin calls again, voice gentle.
Jaehyun sighs. “We’re both fucking this up, dude.”
Dongmin takes a sharp breath.
“You know, soulmates can be platonic,” he reasons, looking only at you. “People are made for each other differently and maybe you and I—”
“You’re just making her feel worse,” Jaehyun cuts him off.
“How do you know that?” Dongmin asks, finally turning to him. “Because you’ve spent a month or two with her? I’m her soulmate.”
“I think a month or two is much better than a stranger with the same damn birthmark.”
“Oh come on,” Dongmin scoffs. “The system exists for a reason.”
“I don’t give a shit about the system. The same as your girlfriend—oh, sorry, did you forget about her already?”
“It’s not like that.” Dongmin quietens. “We’ll figure something out.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. They’re worse than you are—honestly, you don’t know what you expected from the timid emotional maturity of men. Both of their polite facades have melted and you’re starting to miss their sweet-tempered work demeanour.
“Come with me,” Dongmin tells you.
He wraps his hand around your wrist and tugs, Jaehyun visibly tensing up at the gesture. He presses his tongue against his cheek in annoyance but refrains from doing anything rash. You feel sorry when you look at him.
“Dongmin,” you whisper. “Can we- can we have a moment?”
Dongmin nods in understanding and exits the hallway to cool off with a few splashes of water in the washroom.
“Would you go with him?” Jaehyun asks, jaw clenched. “An acquaintance as most? Are you willing to run into the arms of fate that you hated so much?”
He looks bitter and you can’t think of a sugar-coated response. You’ll just have to tell him how you feel.
“I need to sort things out, Jaehyun. This—”
You point from him to yourself.
“Couldn’t work out thanks to fate. Dongmin and I will never work out because he’s braver than I am. You know he’s doing all of that just so I don’t get hurt, right? He’s not suddenly in love with me.”
Jaehyun purses his lips, looking down to his feet. Is it so bad that he let jealousy get the best of his mouth? Envy isn’t so awful. He looks from your eyes to lips and wishes he were young enough to believe in fairytales.
“You don’t have to be brave,” he whispers. “You don’t have to be so brave to fall in love. You don’t have to be brave to stay with me.”
“We tried, Jaehyun. And we can’t cheat fate. That, at the very least, requires bravery.”
You press your lips into a thin line. It hurts. It hurts so bad to look at him and face the consequences of this flawed design. It’s unfair. It’s unfair that you have to follow the rules even after trying your best to break them.
“You wish you never met me, don’t you?” you whisper. “I made a mess.”
Before he responds, you bow in a short goodbye and walk towards the elevator. There’s no footsteps behind you, no Prince Charming. It’s just you and your high heels clacking against the cold marble as you head back to an empty home. You always thought freedom would feel different, that distance would give you perspective. It just feels awful when no one is around you at all. When you have no one to pick up morning calls from, receive texts from asking if you ate, spend time in peace without uttering a single word—are you free or are you lonely?
The rules state that the two of you are different. It is true. You are as different as love in real life and love in the movies; and neither of them have happy endings now.
You wish you drank some more last night if you were going to embarrass yourself like that. Thankfully, it’s the weekend and you have two more days to figure out how to face your coworkers. You frown when you think of Jaehyun. Were you wrong to tell him that you simply couldn’t choose him? What if fate is right and it falls apart? You stir your morning coffee, the will to drink it fading slowly. It’s already fallen apart—and it wasn’t fate who did that, it was you. Should you have taken his stupidly warm hands and asked him to follow you? You don’t understand how it works at all.
Centuries of questioning what love is, poking and prodding at it like a lab sample, and there’s still no perfect answer. Love is blind. Love is cruel. Love is a fever. Love is temporary insanity. Love is acceptance. Love will set you free. There’s just too many variations. You can never tell if fate is meant to make it easier or worse.
No one questions you at the office and you're not sure if you’re glad or aggravated. Only Doyoung shoots you a pitiful look which you brush off and immediately get into work. Embarrassment is only real if you acknowledge it. However, every time Dongmin tries to talk to you, you ask for space and even alone in your thoughts, you don’t get it. They just have to drift to Jaehyun.
You wonder if what he said was true, that he wanted you enough to forget the system. It’s clearly ruined now. The spiral of thinking has you zoning out during work more often than not and even Doyoung ends up reprimanding you for your lack of focus. Sometimes you want to snap but other times, you’re just hopelessly reciting the events over and over in your head. This was supposed to happen, wasn’t it? You don’t even have the strength left in you to blame it all on Jaehyun.
You pace in the corridors after work, contemplating popping by the Marketing Department. What could go wrong? Sure, it was a little dramatic of you to leave like that but everything can be fixed, right? You groan. What you were supposed to be fixing, you made worse. Are your hands cursed or something? You shake your head, returning to your desk to gather your belongings and head home.
Unfortunately, the sight of Doyoung sitting in your chair alarms you and you stop a foot away.
“If you’re going to reprimand me for watching cat videos instead of checking the employee records, I can assure you my efficiency is still top-notch.”
“You’re—what? Never mind.” Doyoung shakes his head. “Can you give this ginseng pack to Jaehyun? I owe him.”
Oh no. You know where this is going.
“You know I’m going to keep that for myself, right?” You make a face. “I’d rather die than face Jaehyun right now.”
Doyoung shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll be the one running to you. This is in case of an emergency.”
You give him a fake smile and Doyoung shakes his head. “Good to see you’re still great at pretending to be fine.”
You sigh. “Thanks for looking out for me, bossman.”
Doyoung blinks, hand covering his mouth when an audible gasp leaves him. “Woah. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you thank me. But don’t call me bossman ever again.”
“Noted,” you say, taking your bag and leaving with a short goodbye. You’re lucky he lets you off work early, even if you never took it. Employees usually can’t leave until their superiors does and if you were a senior employee, you’d be giving your juniors quite the hell.
You seem to be good at concocting hellscapes. Perhaps, you should look for job openings in the underworld. One last thought of Jaehyun exits your head and you take the bus home, admiring the city you live in and the warmth of people and their relationships. You don’t feel jealous; you just bask in them for the time—be it a mother and her son or two bickering sisters or a lovely old couple. That’s how it’s meant to be, then. That’s how love works.
Jaehyun smacks his head against the sofa armrest for the fifteenth time in a row.
“Dude. You’re going to permanently ruin the fabric.” Sicheng says, eyes trained on his laptop screen.
“I should’ve said something more.” Jaehyun’s voice is so zombie-like, he thinks he should cast himself in the Train to Busan sequel as an extra.
“I’m glad I’m not you,” Sicheng mutters.
“Can you give me some sort of consolation, at least?”
“That’s not what I’m your friend for.”
Jaehyun sighs and resumes smacking the back of his head against the armrest. He really needs to figure this out. After all, he can’t really Google the solution to this.
“One thing doesn’t make sense,” Sicheng says, finally looking up from his screen. “Why do you have the same mark as (name)’s if you’re not soulmates?”
“You’re so incredibly—but adorably—stupid, Sicheng. She drew it in with a permanent marker. She kissed me too! It was sudden and weird but I didn’t mind it.
“Yikes.” Sicheng makes a face. “So… you didn’t take a shower for how long now?”
Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “What?”
“The ink hasn’t washed off. I heard you singing in the shower yesterday, how could you not have washed that off? Ugh. Don’t tell me you miss her.”
Jaehyun’s eyes widen as he jumps up and rushes to the washroom. Looking into the mirror, the tattoo poking out from his T-shirt resembles yours a lot more than his. The arrow is still drawn in. Jaehyun’s shoulder slumps. He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Turning the tap and letting the water flow, he wets his hand and rubs at his collarbone to remove the arrow.
Except it doesn’t budge. His skin turns painfully red from the rubbing but the ink, which usually washes off in less than five minutes has no intention of leaving. Did you use a different brand of marker the last time? When was it anyway?
Jaehyun breathes out, firming his resolve. He needs to be with you.
Sicheng blinks in surprise as Jaehyun grabs his car keys, not even bothering to change from an all-black getup of a T-shirt and jeans like some emo teenager, and shuts the front door behind him. Not even a ‘goodbye, I’m leaving!’
Sicheng sighs. Love makes people crazy. He’s not falling into that trap when his soulmate literally doesn’t exist, the same as his soulmark. It seems the contestants in this game are full of exceptions.
You hit your head against your pillow. To visit Jaehyun or not to. You haven’t left your bed since you woke up around seven in the morning, and now it’s ten. Your bedsheets are a mess because you’ve rolled around too much on them (in despair, not with someone unfortunately).
You need the quiet sometimes to let your mind rest, to let your heart rest. You needed time. But maybe it’s been long enough and now you’re just searching for excuses to hold on to your last shred of dignity.
You lift your head up and glare at the box of ginseng on your table. Should you? You reluctantly get up, feeling a sting of pain in your back for lying in that awkward position for so long. Right when you’ve put on your slippers, the doorbell rings and you groan. How did the package you stress-ordered last night arrive so early? These deliveries are getting faster and faster.
You walk to the front door and open it thoughtlessly, freezing up at the sight. Your first reaction is to cover yourself. You’re not exactly your best-looking version at the moment. Jaehyun’s dark circles almost match yours but he’s better dressed than you are—in a black T-shirt and jeans while you’re wearing a Gudetama pajama set.
“We’re not just friends,” he blurts. “We’re not soulmates but we’re not just friends.”
“Huh? Oh my god, this is the most embarrassing I’ve looked.”
Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows in a question look.
“That’s not important! Look—”
He pushes you inside, closing the door behind him. His hair is so disheveled and messy, he barely even looks like the same well-maintained marketing employee you know.
Jaehyun tugs at his T-shirt, pulling down to reveal his tattoo—albeit with your marker-drawn arrow through it. He does have a pretty well-built chest, you note before chiding yourself for getting distracted.
You raise an eyebrow. “Do you, uh, need help scrubbing it off or something?”
“No.” Jaehyun lets out a huff of exasperation. “It won’t wash off. If it’s what I think it is—”
“Miracles don’t happen to people like us, Jaehyun,” you say quietly.
He gulps. “I don’t know about miracles but… I just needed an excuse to see you, I guess.”
You look up, a rose blush over Jaehyun’s bare face, and run your finger over the tattoo, sighing at the warmth of his skin. Your hand travels up to his cheek, resting atop it while you muster enough courage to look Jaehyun in his chocolate brown eyes.
You pull away. This isn’t the time. You still have an internal crisis to sort out. Are you even deserving of love? It makes much more sense if the answer is no.
However, Jaehyun pulls you in by the waist, his right palm warm against your cheek.
“I don’t care what anyone says.” He runs his thumb over your cheek in a painfully fond manner. “You’re worth more than the price I pay for this.”
He leans in and presses his lips to yours swiftly, your head clearing of thoughts almost immediately. It feels so right, you can feel the spark, the red thread around your skin, hear the bells. This kiss was far more perfect than it was supposed to be.
You part, gasping. Jaehyun blinks at you, breathing heavily.
“Kiss me again.”
Jaehyun does as told and you might just believe in miracles this way. With his hand around your waist and in your hair, his lips over yours and the low rumbling laughter that parts the two of you—you might just believe in miracles. You might just believe that love isn't something you deserve by earning.
“I like this,” Jaehyun comments. “I like the way this is.”
You press your finger to his lips. “I think you should shut up and kiss me some more.”
Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “I know you’re sexually repressed as of now, but that’s no reason to take advantage of me.”
You scowl, punching him on the shoulder and moving away from him.
“Come back,” he complains in a quiet voice.
“I am not going to do that.” You cross your arms.
“Come on,” he mutters, inching closer as you inch away, till your back hits the couch and you tumble backwards onto it, your legs on the headrest. Jaehyun laughs at your position, leaning in to keep his hands on either side of you, a doting look over him.
“Hey, did you know if I kicked my leg up, it would hit you in the balls?”
“Please don’t do that.”
You giggle, Jaehyun’s nose rubbing against yours in a bunny kiss.
“Is your place usually this much of a mess?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.
You sigh heavily. “I was having a bad day, okay? Or… a bad weekend.”
“Do you even have food?”
You look away, crossing your arms. Jaehyun sighs and shakes his head.
“We should go grocery shopping. How do you live like this?”
You scoff. “Oh, spare me the lecture. I’ve heard enough horror stories about your room from Sicheng. You can’t hide from me by sweeping your clothes and belongings into his room.”
“Snitch,” he mutters under his breath.
You can’t help the giggle that erupts from your mouth and you immediately cover it. Jaehyun smiles at you fondly and you look away, unable to bear that gaze of his.
“It really won’t wash off, by the way,” Jaehyun states, scratching at his collarbone.
You narrow your eyes, smacking his arms away to roll off the couch. Taking his wrist, you walk into your bathroom and turn the tap on. Something’s strange. But also strangely right.
“Look, I already tried—ow! Don’t rub that hard!”
You blink in confusion, trying again despite Jaehyun looking like his soul already left him. It doesn’t work. Your marker isn’t even that permanent. At least his regenerating skin cells should get rid of that arrow. Unless the ink was deep enough to pierce all the layers, as in a soulmark.
You gasp.
“You were right!”
“I told you s—”
"That's the point, isn't it?" you say, realization dawning as your eyes widen. "To see if people will question the system at all."
Jaehyun shrugs. “Maybe.”
"Oh, all those unhappy marriages that could have been saved," you say as you exhale.
Jaehyun chuckles lightly. "I think that the point was, people can be happy without their soulmates. It's whoever you make one out of. Or I Googled too many articles on anti-soulmate propaganda."
You smile, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. Watching his ears turn bright red is the cherry on top.
“Okay, fake-boyfriend-turned-real-soulmate.” You give him a cheeky smile. “Did you rethink your decision about sharing that Netflix password with me? I get the girlfriend free pass, right? Right?”
“I didn’t even share it with my mother.”
You whack his arm, him possibly used to it by now, judging from his lack of response.
“Idiot.” You cross your arms. “We can Netflix… and chill then. God, I can’t believe I said that.”
Jaehyun breaks into a chuckle. “You’re so pushy.”
“And you like being pushed around, nerd.”
“Who said that?”
Jaehyun wraps his arms around you, spinning you so that your back hits the door. He leans in to kiss you again and you smack your palm over his pouted lips. You laugh at his face, his eyes brimming with confusion.
“You’re in my apartment. I make the rules here. Think twice before you start a game with me, Mister.”
His shoulders droop. “Fine. Can you at least let me kiss you four times a day?”
“Five times, if you ask.”
He laughs before leaning in again. “Can I kiss you now?”
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
“You are one hell of a woman. Emphasis on hell.”
You laugh and grab his collar, pulling him in for the kiss that seals this deal.
You realize a few things in the moment: a) You don’t have to play roulette to find love, b) You don’t have to pick your poison to find love, and most importantly c) Love is right where you make something of it. Fate is still not in your good books but if it bends to you this way, you don’t mind at all. If Jaehyun kisses you like this every day, you don’t mind one bit.
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