Archive of Our Own

It takes just a few hours after she gets her soul mark for Juyeon to realise she hates this soulmate stuff.

Or, maybe hates isn’t the right word, because she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to find her soulmate. 

Because here’s the thing. 

A soulmate is supposed to complete you; to be your other half, the part of you that lives in your dreams and resides in the deepest recesses of your heart; the person you can look at for all eternity and think yes, i could love you until the stars fade out. If that isn’t a romantic, fairytale ending, then Juyeon doesn’t know what is, and like so many others before her she’s dedicated to finding that other half as soon as possible.

The problem — as many have quickly come to find out — is that soulmates aren’t so simple in practice.

Because here’s the thing. 

Flowers don’t bloom all at once on the first day of spring. Newborn chicks don’t all hatch the same size. The sunset palettes of autumn leaves are never quite identical. Soul marks, like all things in nature, are incredibly inconsistent. You never know when or where or even if you’ll ever get yours, and even when they finally do show up, they can be astoundingly unhelpful. It does make sense, logically speaking: the first words you say to someone new typically aren’t going to be the most profound statements, after all. 

But Juyeon’s never really been one for logic, and she’s content to stew in frustration when she wakes up one day to find delicate letters traced into her wrist.

Yeoreum thinks it’s hilarious. Of course she does. She races over as soon as she gets Juyeon’s call, arriving out of breath with tousled mocha-brown hair, and grabs Juyeon’s wrist to squint at the lettering for a long moment. 

Something glints in her eyes. For a second, Juyeon thinks Yeoreum might try offering some words of wisdom or come up with an intelligent explanation for the mark. Just any kind of comfort, comfort that’s become her trademark over the years.

But no, Yeoreum drops her hand and barks out a laugh.

“You’re making fun of me,” Juyeon whines, collapsing back onto the bed. 

“Only a little,” Yeoreum says, “And you have to admit, it’s kinda funny.”

Juyeon only pouts, kicking at the blankets sulkily. 

Yeoreum’s laughter softens to a shy giggle, and Juyeon can’t stop herself from cracking a grin back. She perches herself on the edge of the mattress, next to where Juyeon’s lying, and gently lifts her hand to examine it once more. Juyeon complies, peeking at Yeoreum’s face through her lashes.

It’s four letters. One word, inscribed into her skin like the ebony thread of a tapestry.

On her wrist: what?

This is supposed to guide her to the person she’ll spend the rest of her life with.

A sudden sense of despair floods her soul. Juyeon rolls over, and groans into a pillow.

For what it’s worth, Yeoreum’s nice enough not to laugh this time, instead giving her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder — well, there’s the comfort she was expecting — and lets her stew in self-pity for a little longer before saying, “I mean, it’s not the worst that could happen. Remember Soobin unnie’s mark?”

She does remember: the supremely unhelpful, single word hi inscribed near her elbow had given Soobin a fair amount of headaches for a while. Though, she’s always been admirably forward in her introductions, which gave her soulmate a much more recognisable mark.

(It hadn’t even taken them that long to realise they were soulmates, despite how painfully awkward Hyunjung turned out to be. They’ve been together for, what, two years now?)

Envy seeps into her heart. Juyeon lets out another groan.

The mattress dips next to her and something warm nestles into her side; Juyeon shifts to give Yeoreum more room. She watches her thread their fingers together, delicately tracing over the mark and the lines on Juyeon’s palm. 

“Don’t worry, unnie. You’ll find them someday. If anyone will, it’s going to be you.”

Strands of hair slip over Yeoreum’s eyes. Juyeon reaches out to tuck them behind Yeoreum’s ear, watching how the light dances in her gaze.

Her hand lingers, a second too long.

Yeoreum blinks. The light shifts.

“Easy for you to say. You won’t even show me your soul mark,” Juyeon finally says, giving Yeoreum’s cheek a playful pinch. Yeoreum yelps. Shoots Juyeon a glare that could freeze volcanoes before attempting to bite her finger off. Juyeon laughs the whole time, dodging Yeoreum’s attacks with practised ease.

Yeoreum huffs, and opts to kick her instead.

“Ow,” Juyeon whines, rubbing her knee dramatically. “I’m telling Sojung unnie!” She expects Yeoreum to roll her eyes, to snark back, to walk away coolly, but no; the younger girl just stares back at her blankly. 

She’s doing that thing again — that thing where her brows are knit together and she sticks her tongue out cutely. It’s her thinking face, and if Juyeon were any dumber she’d give her cheek another poke.

Thankfully, she isn’t. 

“Reum? You good?” she asks instead.

“Yeah, it’s just… Do you want to see my soul mark?”

“What?” Juyeon snaps upright, eyes wide. no, you don’t have to almost slips from her lips, but then she thinks about it a little more, and… It’s been a couple of months since Yeoreum’s gotten her mark and she still refuses to show it to anyone, so wouldn’t it be nice- wouldn’t it sate the curious little gremlin inside of her to see it? To know a little more about her best friend’s soulmate. The person she’ll have to entrust Yeoreum with for the rest of her life.

Something stirs in Juyeon. She chews her bottom lip thoughtfully. 

“You don’t have to,” Juyeon finally says. She leans back against the headboard, swallowing thickly. “Not until you’re ready, Reum.” Takes a deep breath, and musters up her best shot at a sincere smile. “But when you’ve found them, you have to bring them to me first. I’ve gotta give them the best friend talk.” She quashes the stirring emotion in her gut down, down, down, ignoring the way it writhes and struggles against her.

Yeoreum just gives her a long stare, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sure,” she finally sighs, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “Whatever you say,” and that’s the end of that.

Silence settles over them like a warm blanket. Somewhere along the way Yeoreum intertwines their arms, fidgeting with Juyeon’s skin. It would be awkward with anyone else, but there’s never been a need to fill the space when they’re together; they’re well past that stage. Have been, for years, ever since that day in kindergarten when Juyeon had decided to be friends with some poor girl on the swings without giving her much of a choice in the matter.

(“Be my friend,” Juyeon had demanded, and she can vaguely remember some mortified sense of fear in Yeoreum’s eyes at the sudden declaration. 

She’d said something then, some expression of confusion that’s long been lost to time and the recesses of Juyeon’s memory. In any case, it didn't matter. It wasn't long before they were inseparable.)

Over fifteen years later, and Juyeon finds herself watching Yeoreum fondly as she curls into her side to escape the autumn chill. 

She can’t imagine it. Can’t imagine having to send Yeoreum off to be cuddled by someone else, to laugh at them and kick them when they’re acting silly, to bake their favourite cakes for them on their birthday; to be their other half. It just feels… wrong.

Juyeon sighs, fiddling with a lock of Yeoreum’s hair absent-mindedly.

Maybe she does hate this soulmate stuff after all.

-

A solid nineteen hours go by without Juyeon having to think about her own soul mark, at which point it gets tired of being ignored and promptly makes its presence known during her chemistry lecture.

Or, more accurately, someone makes its presence known.

Juyeon’s usual seat is taken that day, so she begrudgingly trudges up the steps to the opposite end of the room and collapses into the first empty seat. It’s eight in the morning, and she’s too tired to deal with any of this: the subtle September chill that hangs in the air (the thermostat had broken years ago, with no one bothering to fix it); the seat that creaks and groans and protests with every minuscule movement she makes; the sound of papers rustling and pens clicking in the neighbouring aisles. 

Juyeon pulls her hood up and screws her eyes shut, pretending she’s anywhere else. There’s literally no reason for an arts major like her to take a chemistry module, except—

—the seat next to her creaks, and the entire row of chairs dips ever-so-slightly with the added weight. Juyeon slumps further into her seat, massaging her face with one hand.

“You look like shit,” Luda says, sounding wildly unsympathetic. 

“Why are you even here,” Juyeon groans, rubbing a temple, “Don’t you upperclassmen have better things to do?”

Luda shrugs. “Someone has to make sure you’re paying attention in class. Besides, Professor Kim likes me, I’m sure he won’t mind me sitting in.” Then, presumably seeing the murderous intent in Juyeon’s glare, she smirks devilishly. “I mean, if you don’t want me here, that’s fine too. I’ll just tell Yeoreum.”

Juyeon barely resists the urge to swear back, but Yeoreum has expressly forbidden her from being mean to her cousin no matter how much of a menace Luda can be.

(“Seriously, she’s the one being mean to me,” Juyeon had whined, “You should be telling her all this.” Yeoreum only rolled her eyes in response, said something about family and respecting Luda’s seniority, and that was the end of that.)

So, yes, even if Juyeon would love to throttle Luda several times over for enrolling her in a chemistry elective that one time they got dead drunk at Yeoreum’s high school graduation party, she refrains from doing so for her best friend’s sake. Instead, Juyeon huffs, tightening her hood and wishing for the peace of two hours ago, when she was still in bed and bundled up in two layers of blankets.

The theatre door swings open, a loud, jarring sound in the relative silence of the room, and in walks Professor Kim, heels clicking against the tile with every step. There’s a chorus of groans and rustling from around the room as heads rise groggily from rickety tables. Juyeon would ordinarily relate, but the professor’s entrance has spared her from any further Luda-shaped annoyance, and she decides to count her blessings.

She proceeds to spend the next hour scrolling through Instagram on her laptop, pointedly ignoring the dirty looks Luda sends her way. Professor Kim’s droning fades to a background lull, almost underwater; nothing more than the white noise of an empty room.

Juyeon huffs out a sigh. She’s in desperate need of something more fun to do before she starts melting into a boredom-induced sludge. She instinctively reaches for her phone, muscle memory guiding her to a familiar contact; her go-to solution for times like these.

geundeok

ya yeoreum ah

im bored

entertain me

lee yorm

you’re always bored unnie

don’t you have class

geundeok

its chem

no one cares about chem except your nerd cousin

and she’s not really doing much to stop me rn

(Juyeon sneaks a peek over at Luda, who looks like she’s trying to explode Juyeon with her brain.)

lee yorm

yah

pay attention to class before she gets violent ㅋ

“...now that we’ve gone through the content…”

geundeok

she’s always violent :( 

yah lee yeoreummmmm

entertain meeeee

:( 

lee yorm

have to go to class unnie

i’ll talk to you later

:3

“...so we’ll have a little pop quiz to check our understanding. This will count towards your final grade, so take it seriously.”

Juyeon freezes. Snaps her head towards the front of the room hoping she’s misheard, but no; the professor’s already halfway across the room with a stack of presumably test papers in her arms. 

Great. The day keeps getting better.

Juyeon peers into her backpack, which is — predictably — empty save for her laptop sleeve and wallet. Turns to Luda and the neatly arranged array of stationery (three black pens, two blue pens, one shiny metal ruler, a collection of pastel-rainbow highlighters, and a single, almost pea-sized eraser) on her desk next to where she’s boredly doodling molecules in her notebook. “Lend me a pen,” Juyeon says, because surely she won’t miss one.

Luda lifts her head. Looks Juyeon directly in the eye with the kind of look normally reserved for an insect squashed cruelly against a window. And then she’s picking up every individual pen on her desk and making a show of examining each one and putting them back in her pencil case, excruciatingly slow. “Sorry, they’re all out of ink,” she says, never breaking eye contact.

Fuck you, Juyeon thinks. “Do you want me to pass this stupid class or not?” she says. 

Luda says nothing (though there’s the faintest hint of an amused grin playing on her lips) and turns her attention back to the unnecessarily convoluted polymer she was drawing. Juyeon shudders. STEM majors are a different breed.

There’s no one else in their row or behind them save for a terrified-looking boy, and from the way he’s shaking and frantically flipping through notes, Juyeon’s afraid even just talking to him might give him a stroke. She turns forward instead, where the only other person in their section is a girl seated one row directly in front of her. All she can see from here is a head of long black hair, falling in slight waves toward the bottom.

Juyeon taps her on the shoulder; she turns to reveal soft, delicate features pulled back into a look of gentle surprise. 

“‘Scuse me, could I borrow a pen?” Juyeon asks. 

“What?” she says, tucking her hair behind her ears to reveal the AirPods nestled in them. She removes the right bud, placing it back into the case with a click. “Sorry, did you say something?”

Juyeon freezes for a second, which makes her feel really stupid because come on Son Juyeon it’s literally one of the most commonly spoken words in the fucking world get yourself together. Eventually, she remembers how words work again, and manages to stutter back. “Uh… Yeah, sorry. I asked if I could borrow a pen for the test.” Luda doesn’t bother hiding the sound of her snickers.

The girl opens her mouth in a silent ‘ah’, and reaches for a pen on her table which she hands over.

A dark blue Muji gel pen. Juyeon twirls it between her fingers.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m Juyeon,” she blurts.

The girl seated in front of her raises an eyebrow amusedly. “I’m Jiyeon.”

“And I ’d appreciate it if you both shut up and focused on the test.”

Juyeon looks over to her left to find Luda leaning over towards them, a huge, insincere smile plastered over her face. Jiyeon blinks, stunned - and then she laughs, high and airy. “Found the STEM major,” she says. Luda gasps scandalously and opens her mouth to retort before Juyeon cuts her off.

“Hey, uh, would you like to hang out after the test?” 

Jiyeon’s brows slant, but she nods anyway before turning back to the front and letting the white noise of a broken thermostat befall them.

It’s a long shot, but Juyeon’s willing to take it.

-

“You think I’m your what.”

Okay, so maybe it’s a longer shot than she’d expected.

They’re sat in the empty campus cafe, each nursing an iced americano. Luda, despite her insistence on tagging along, now sits quietly next to Juyeon, sipping her drink slowly and letting the other two handle the conversation. Juyeon thinks she needs to get her shit together around pretty women, but she doesn’t say that aloud.

“Soulmate,” Juyeon says simply, twirling her straw. 

Jiyeon stares at her, long and unblinking. “And all this is based on… What, exactly? Forgive me for being sceptical when that,” she jabs a finger at Juyeon’s wrist, “Is your only evidence.”

Juyeon shrugs. “I’m just making a guess. You’ve gotta be a little shameless to find your soulmate.”

“There’s a difference between being shameless and being stupid.” Jiyeon takes a long, elegant sip of her coffee, a stark contrast to the harshness of her words. “Oh. No offence,” she says, seeing Juyeon’s face, but it sounds only halfway sincere. “Look, I’ve known you for like, three hours, and so far I think you’re a nice person and all, but this is coming out of literally nowhere.”

“Soulmates can come out of nowhere!” Juyeon protests. 

“I’m not saying they can’t. But isn't there… Isn't there someone you like? Y’know, to see your type and all? If you know what your heart wants, then you’d know what to look out for, right?”

“Fair point.” Juyeon takes a big gulp of americano, trying desperately to ignore the fact that a name immediately pops into her head. 

She fails. 

“I guess there’s someone. She’s cute.” There’s a pause as she collects her thoughts, trying to figure out how best to describe Lee Yeoreum in as few words as possible.

“That’s it?” Jiyeon prods. Juyeon scowls back at her, and Jiyeon holds up her hands in mock surrender.

“As I was saying,” Juyeon snaps, “She’s cute. And funny, even if she doesn't know it. She’s so kind and loving to everyone else but she’s hard on herself all the time for nothing. When she’s around new people she latches onto me because she’s shy. And she pretends she hates it when I kiss her but lately she hasn’t bothered pushing away. She lights up when she talks about her dog and her dancing… And when I get home stupid drunk she acts really annoyed but she always makes me hangover soup in the morning.” Juyeon twirls the straw of her cup, watching the coffee ripple in brown waves; the ice rattle against the plastic. 

The air seems to go still. 

“Gross.” It’s the first time Luda’s spoken since they’ve sat down, and to be perfectly frank Juyeon had forgotten she was even there. “I don't wanna hear about you being in love with my cousin.”

Juyeon nearly spits out her drink. 

“What- Yah, Lee Luda—”

“Lee Luda unnie.”

“—Okay, whatever, Luda unnie. Who says I’m talking about Yeoreum?”

“You basically described her word-for-word, who else would it be? Also, don't think I don't notice you making heart eyes at her whenever she isn't looking. You're not subtle at all, Son Juyeon. Seriously, how does all your game keep inexplicably disappearing when you talk to her?”

“I-I don't make heart eyes at Yeoreum!” It’s a weak retort, and she knows it. 

Luda raises an eyebrow. Jiyeon watches it all with something that could be a smirk as she sips her coffee.

Okay, fine. Maybe she does have a teeny tiny crush on her childhood friend. So sue her! It’s not like she’s a hard person to fall for; not when she’s always there as a listening ear for the stupidest shit and remembers all the tiniest things about Juyeon and smiles so blindingly bright all the time. Maybe she has entertained the thought of them spending the rest of their lives together. So what? It’s not like it matters anyway, because-

“She has a soulmate,” Juyeon says. “And it isn't me.”

Luda’s face shifts. Brows pinch together; skin creases in the middle of her forehead. “You’ve seen her mark?”

“No, but—”

The cafe entrance opens, letting in a blast of winter chill for just long enough that Juyeon shudders. Juyeon turns at the disturbance and stands when she realises who it is. 

“Reum! I thought you had class!”

Yeoreum jumps a little hearing her voice, but her face brightens when she sees Juyeon. “Unnie! Hi! Uh, class got cancelled, so here I am, I guess,” she giggles nervously, sneaking a glance over at their table, where she can see Luda whispering conspiratorily into Jiyeon’s ear. “I don’t wanna intrude on you and your friends, so—”

“Don’t be silly,” Juyeon interrupts, dragging her by the wrist. “It’s just your dumb cousin and our new friend.” She sits Yeoreum down at the table across from Luda, who jumps in her seat and shifts away from Jiyeon. Juyeon narrows her eyes at them; Luda only shrugs innocently, lowering her head to sip her drink.

Juyeon pays them no heed. “Jiyeon unnie, this is Yeoreum. Yeoreum, this is Jiyeon unnie.” Jiyeon smiles warmly at Yeoreum, who seems to relax ever-so-slightly. 

“Jiyeon unnie’s first words to me match my soul mark.” 

She blurts it out before she can stop herself, and immediately winter seems to rush into the cafe: Jiyeon stiffens, fingers clenching around her drink, Luda looks like she’s trying to explode Juyeon with her mind again, and Yeoreum’s eyes grow almost comically wide. Juyeon instantly starts kicking herself, because why the fuck did she think saying that was a good idea?

“I mean, it’s not like that,” Jiyeon says first, looking over at Yeoreum. “I’m sure you know, but Juyeon’s mark is kinda generic. It doesn’t mean I’m her soulmate.” She reaches out to grasp Yeoreum’s hand on the table, smiling reassuringly. Yeoreum flashes a smile back, the one she uses when doesn’t quite know what to say, but doesn’t want to look rude.

“Yeah,” Luda cuts in, voice colder than the chill outside. She stares straight into Juyeon’s eyes, and she feels herself squirm uncomfortably under the all-seeing gaze. “It isn’t like that, Yeoreumie.” 

The quiet echoes in Juyeon’s ears, stiff and uncomfortable. 

“Like what?” Yeoreum says at last. She laughs, and it clatters in Juyeon’s skull. “Why are you guys acting weird?”

Jiyeon opens her mouth to answer, but Luda beats her to it. “Unnie stuff,” she says quickly, gathering her things. She grabs Jiyeon by the wrist, whose face colours with mild surprise but makes no effort to break free. “Well, would you look at the time! Jiyeon and I have somewhere to be, so we’ll just… go. Bye!”

“Together? You guys just met two hours ago!” Juyeon protests, but they’re already out the door. “What the hell is up with her?”

Yeoreum doesn;t answer. She stares a million miles ahead. Juyeon thinks about what Jiyeon and Luda were trying to say; why they felt the need to reassure Yeoreum about the soulmate thing, and a flicker of a spark ignites in her chest.

For a precious few seconds, Juyeon lets herself hope.

“I should, um,” Yeoreum says, “Should probably get to my next class.”

“Already? But you just got here.”

Their eyes meet for a fraction of a moment, before Yeoreum turns away, cheeks pinking. “I guess I did,” she says, rather unconvincingly. Juyeon raises a brow.

“Now you’re acting weird too,” she says, stamping down the spark in her chest that’s become more of a flame. “But okay. I’ll catch you later?”

Yeoreum smiles back, and this time it reaches her eyes. The summer sun in her smile. Juyeon feels her heart grow impossibly bigger.

And when she moves to press a kiss to Yeoreum’s cheek and the smaller girl whines in protest as she slips away, the moment almost manages to feel normal again save for the continual burning in Juyeon’s chest. She watches Yeoreum’s back disappear into the distance. Summer bleeding into the barren winter. Swallows hard, and bites her lip.

Flames grow out of control remarkably quickly.

-

Juyeon doesn’t remember much from her childhood, because really, who does? It’s all become a hazy blur wrapped in a layer of sweet nostalgia, and she doesn’t really feel like digging much deeper, anyway. Who knows what horrors she might find.

But there’s one memory that always seems to float on the murky waters, one that emerges from the depths like a ray of summer sun, that she’s certain she would never be able to forget even if she tried. It’s a precious memory to her, of meeting one of her dearest friends, and Juyeon wouldn’t trade it for the world.

So, it goes a little something like this:

“Be my friend,” she’d said, to a shy little girl half a head shorter than her who was sitting alone at the swings that day, and every day before that. She’d held out a hand, because it was only polite, and the girl had stared back at her like she’d grown a second head.

She’d said something then— Juyeon knows that much, but the memory blurs around the edges like an old photograph. What comes next is more certain: “You always look like you need a friend, so why don’t you be mine?” Juyeon had said, with all the gusto a six year old could muster.

“Um,” the girl mumbled, kicking her feet.

“I’ll push the swing for you!” she’d beamed, and Juyeon cringes at her own bluntness. 

The day had passed in more or less the same pattern, of Juyeon talking at Yeoreum and doing stuff for her, but Yeoreum not exactly bothering to turn her away. And when the day ended in a melt of orange skies, and Juyeon came back the next day repeating the process. Eventually they reached a point where Yeoreum would start responding, and then from there there was no separating them. Not in elementary school, or middle school, or high school, or even beyond that: it was always Juyeon and Yeoreum, Yeoreum and Juyeon.

People like Sojung used to say that there was no way they weren’t soulmates. But the years passed, and neither of them got their marks, and then Yeoreum had hers and she was refusing to let anyone see it, even Juyeon.

Which was fine. Of course it was. It’s Yeoreum’s mark, after all, and no one needs to see it except her.

But that planted the seed. The very real possibility that somewhere out there, there was someone else destined to be Yeoreum’s other half. It wouldn’t be Yeoreum and Juyeon anymore; instead it would be Yeoreum and some new person, who would have to learn about all her little faces and carry her home when she passes out drunk and take Yeolmu out on walks with her, just like Juyeon’s always done.

And yeah, Juyeon has someone like that out there too, the mark on her wrist is proof enough of that. But she can say for certain that it’s not who she wants it to be, and maybe that hurts more than anything.

-

“You owe me five thousand won,” Yeoreum says, setting the slice of cake on the table.

Juyeon pouts exaggeratedly. “No discount for your favourite unnie?”

“Luda unnie isn’t here right now,” Yeoreum fires back, but she forks off a piece of cake and holds it out to her anyway.

“—You’re the beth,” Juyeon manages to say through a mouthful of cake, drawing a giggle from Yeoreum. “I’m gonna have to start yelling so that everyone else knows too,” she grins. Sugar and cream on her tongue. Yeoreum’s laughter ringing in her ears.

“Please don’t. We’re in public.”

“That’s not gonna save you from my love— Oh, Jiyeon unnie!”

Jiyeon’s just entered the cafe, and Juyeon waves brightly at her, gesturing her over. Jiyeon beams back.

“Juyeon! I didn’t expect to see you here! What are you up to?”

“Nothing much, just on a date with Yeoreumie.”

There’s a loud, choked noise from across the table, and they both turn to find Yeoreum spluttering into a napkin, her face going tomato-red. 

Alarmed, Juyeon pushes her glass towards Yeoreum. “You good? Need some water?”

“N-No, just swallowed something wrong. I-I’m okay, you guys keep talking.”

Juyeon’s brows pinch together, but she nods slowly and turns back to Jiyeon, who looks back at her with something unreadable in her expression.

“So,” Jiyeon says loudly, with all the authority of a kindergarten teacher herding a group of rowdy students, “What are you guys up to after this? Any plans together?” 

“Nope. Probably just gonna crash over at Yeoreum’s.”

Jiyeon nods thoughtfully, turning to Yeoreum instead. “And how have you been doing? Any luck with your soulmate?”

Yeoreum, in response, starts choking again.

When they’ve finally gotten her to calm down, she speaks with her head lowered, staring straight into the table like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “It’s going… Okay, I guess,” she says, in a voice much smaller than her. “I know who it is, if that’s what you’re asking.”

It happens again. Juyeon feels it: a coldness in her gut that grows and grows, and this time it refuses to listen and lie back when she shoves it down. It creeps through her body, up her throat, and threatens to spill out, but Juyeon shuts her mouth so hard that her jaw starts to ache.

don’t look at Yeoreum don’t look just stare straight ahead she isn’t here

“That’s great!” Jiyeon says, completely oblivious to the crisis Juyeon’s having. “I guess it won’t be long before you guys are together, huh.”

that should be me, Juyeon thinks, the monstrous all-consuming chill in her system spreading further and further, getting stronger and stronger.

Yeoreum finally looks up, and Juyeon can’t help herself. Her eyes flick over to Yeoreum’s face; she’s smiling: a small, gentle quirk of the lips like the first signs of spring shining through an eternal winter. “I hope so,” Yeoreum says shyly, a glimmer in her eyes.

Juyeon can almost hear the sound of her own heart shattering into a million pieces.

The monster claws at her gut. She lets go.

“Jiyeon unnie,” she blurts. “Go on a date with me.”

-

Yeoreum excuses herself. Juyeon doesn’t get the chance to give her that five thousand won. 

Somehow, the monster hasn’t dissipated from her system like she thought it would. It lays dormant, watching from the inside, perpetually unsatisfied. Juyeon tries not to think about it too much.

“What was that about?” Jiyeon asks, her tone strangely pointed.

Juyeon sighs. “I don’t know,” she says, because she doesn’t. “But what’s your answer?”

Jiyeon regards her with a pitying look that’s much wiser than her years. “My answer is no, Juyeon. I don’t think I’m the one you’re looking for.”

Juyeon pouts. “C’mon, unnie. Just one date. We don’t even have to call it one, if you don’t want to! I just need the time to figure out if you are — or aren’t — the one for sure.”

Jiyeon stares at her for what feels like hours, boring a hole into her soul, and Juyeon feels the breath stop in her lungs. Truthfully, she’s going to be completely fine if Jiyeon declines, but she just needs something to do now to feel like her best friend hasn’t left her behind in the soulmate race.

Maybe if she finds her soulmate fast enough, she’ll never have to feel the crushing emptiness that’ll inevitably come when Yeoreum beats her to it. Maybe.

(Distantly, Juyeon doubts she’ll ever feel whole again once Yeoreum finds her soulmate.)

“Okay, fine,” Jiyeon finally says. Juyeon blinks, and has to remind herself what conversation they were having in the first place. 

“Fine, as in?”

“You get one date. One night to figure your stuff out. But if you don’t feel the click by the end of the night, then you’re going to have to accept that I’m not the one.”

“I can work with that,” Juyeon says. “By the end of the night, you’ll be asking me out on a second date.” She tries her best to inject in her usual charm, but it falls flat this time, like a kid playing dress-up without  knowing how actual grown-ups work.

Jiyeon, apparently, picks up on it, because she looks thoroughly unconvinced. 

And honestly, so is Juyeon.

-

Everything seems perfect: Juyeon's dressed in her best button-down and dress pants, the ones Yeoreum had bought her for her birthday a few years back. She's got the route all planned out in her head, and she still has a little time left before she has to leave. Everything seemed right. 

And yet, something rests uneasy in the pit of Juyeon's stomach.

Maybe it's just nerves, Juyeon reckons, but then again, when has she ever been nervous?

Yeoreum would probably know what to say; would probably laugh at her for a bit for being all jittery around a pretty girl and then give her a pep talk powerful enough to dispel the nerves in question. 

Lee Yeoreum, forever her rock, always reliably there.

Juyeon picks up her phone and dials her number, fingers guided by muscle memory. It's picked up on the fifth ring.

"Unnie?" Yeoreum rasps through the speaker – her voice is different, hoarser, not chock-full of aegyo like it usually is. Juyeon frowns. 

"Yeoreum-ah, are you okay?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and then: "Yeah, I'm all good, I just... I think I'm down with something."

Juyeon's eyes widen, and all the nerves from before instantly dispel, and in its place worry comes to occupy the forefront of her mind. She instantly reaches for her coat, incoherent questions spilling from her mouth. "Did you take any medicine? Is anyone at home with you now?"

"Unnie, I'm fine, it's just a little cold."

"It doesn't matter, I'm coming over, okay? Just stay right there–" 

"Juyeon unnie," the voice on the other end of the line comes firm and stubborn this time, whatever leftover dregs of aegyo melting away. Juyeon freezes, and there's a static silence.

"I'm fine. Go and enjoy your date, okay?"

"But–" 

"Just enjoy your night with Jiyeon unnie, and you can tell me all about it after— Sorry, give me a second," There's an abrupt series of hacking coughs echoing through the call before Yeoreum manages to mute her mic, and that uneasy pit in Juyeon's stomach only grows deeper. 

"Yeoreum-ah," she says weakly, answered only by the quiet of a muted mic. "I–" she begins. What should she say? What does she want to say, even, when all her life Yeoreum's always been a thought away; always been able to read the look in her eyes with nothing but a shy little smile; always known what she's thinking even if Juyeon herself can't put it in words?

Juyeon doesn't know. The words get stuck in her throat; the invisible string between them feels like it's fraying in the middle. 

Static once again begins playing through her phone. "Sorry about that," Yeoreum says hoarsely, "Did you say anything?"

Juyeon swallows thickly, palms slipping around her phone. "No, I… Just… Take care of yourself, alright? I'll see you soon."

She hangs up without waiting for Yeoreum's answer.

-

Her breath puffs in the frosty air, and Juyeon’s fists clench in her pockets.

Somewhere along the way the lump in her stomach has made its way to her throat. She grimaces behind her mask, swallowing nervously in a futile attempt to shake the feeling. 

It’s winter now; the ice crackles underfoot, cold dusting Juyeon’s cheeks pink. The trees stand bare against the canvas of the night — an inky midnight black, starless with the evening buzz of a city that never sleeps. 

It’s the dead of winter now, but summer’s still on her mind: the sky blazing blue and bright, the sun a celebration of vibrant yellow, the scattered rainbow of the flowers, and Yeoreum, embraced in the summer blaze, the constant driving warmth in her heart. 

But summer’s starting to freeze over, and Juyeon doesn't know how to save it. 

“Juyeon.” 

A voice calls from behind her, and she turns to find Luda bundled in her coat and scarf. She tilts her head at Juyeon curiously, walking up to her side. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Mind if I walk with you?”

Juyeon nods. She waits for Luda to catch up with her before resuming down the street. “You’re not usually out of the house at seven in the evening on a winter day.” 

Luda chuckles. It’s muffled by the fabric of her scarf. “I had a feeling it would be good for me to get out of the house.” She smiles up at Juyeon, all the usual sass nowhere to be found in her eyes. “And I guess I was right. Why do you look so pathetic? It’s not the best look on you.”

Here’s the real Lee Luda, not the one hiding behind a mask of apathy and snark, but Yeoreum’s older cousin who used to sit down with Juyeon teaching her science while the sky went from midnight-black to purple to orange; who made her hangover soup the morning after she got drunk for the first time; who’s always been the closest thing to an older sister Juyeon’s ever had (despite occasionally being a little menace). 

Juyeon lets the silence sit between them for a while, not sure how to answer when she herself doesn’t know why.

“Yeoreum’s sick,” she finally says, surprised at the quiet of her own voice.

Luda hums. “People get sick all the time, and it’s just a common cold.”

“Yeah, well this is different, this is—” Juyeon pauses. Stares at the ground blankly as she walks. “This is Yeoreum. And I’d be less worried if everything was okay between us but she’s been acting weird lately. I just… She’s hiding something from me, and I can’t read her like I used to a-and it’s stressing me out…”

“D’you want to go on this date with Jiyeon unnie?” 

Juyeon blinks, feeling very small under Luda’s deadpan stare. “That’s a stupid question. Of course I do.”

“But you look like you’re thinking more about your friend than the actual date.”

“I’m allowed to be worried about Yeoreum! Besides, she’s not just a friend, she’s—” Juyeon stops short, the words slipping from her mind.

‘Best friend’ or even ‘family’ don’t capture the depths of what they have, she realises.

“She’s…”

Is there even a label that would do them justice? 

Luda’s eyes twinkle at her in the light of the streetlamps, and in any other situation Juyeon would be getting very annoyed because she clearly knows something Juyeon doesn’t. But for now, she can only gape dumbly at Luda, thoughts racing all too quickly and yet not fast enough.

“Go be with Yeoreum,” Luda says. “Jiyeon unnie will understand.”

That’s all the reassurance Juyeon needs. 

She breaks into a run. Wind nips at her face; her mask inflates and deflates with every puff of breath she takes.

Jiyeon could be her soulmate, even if Juyeon has nothing in the way of evidence except a hunch and a desperation to find her other half. But if Jiyeon’s really the one — if she really does have Juyeon’s words etched somewhere into her skin, her face in her dreams — then they’ll have plenty of time to talk later. But Yeoreum…

Juyeon quickens her pace.

-

She fumbles her copy of the keys into the lock. All but kicks the door open, and steps inside, chest heaving. The door swings shut behind her; she juggles between yanking her shoes and mask off and making sure the door is locked before bolting down the corridor.

Juyeon throws the door to Yeoreum’s room open. She’s immediately met with a yelp and a scramble of blankets. Yeoreum peeks out from under the covers, eyes wide.

“J-Juyeon unnie?”

“Reum.”

They stare at each other for a beat or two of awkward silence, neither girl really knowing what to say. Yeoreum shuffles uncomfortably on the mattress, fiddling with the edges of her blanket before finally shattering the unnatural stillness: “You shouldn’t be here, unnie. You have a date.”

Her voice is lighter than air, barely a whisper, and she refuses to meet Juyeon’s gaze.

“Yeah, well, you’re sick,” Juyeon says, with renewed fire in her eyes, “And that’s more important. Scooch over.”

She doesn’t wait for Yeoreum to respond before striding across the room and plopping herself on the mattress. Half her body dangles precariously off the edge, and Yeoreum whines in faux protest as Juyeon wriggles to give herself more room.

“Y-You’ll get sick!” Yeoreum cries, shuffling further away. Juyeon barks out a laugh. Loops an arm around Yeoreum’s shoulders; pulls her into her lap for a bone-crushing embrace. 

“Good, then we’ll be stuck here together and you can’t avoid me anymore.”

Yeoreum breaks into a fit of coughs, ears reddening. Juyeon rubs circles into the blades of her shoulders where the tension is bowstring-taut. Watches Yeoreum slowly deflate as her coughing dies down.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” she asks quietly once the final echoes have faded away.

Yeoreum wriggles away and sits so that she’s facing Juyeon. “Can we not?” 

“Okay. If that’s what you want. But something’s clearly bothering you, and I can’t just stand by and watch you tear yourself up over it.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Juyeon points over at the dresser, where there’s a framed photo of the two of them as kids, just a few days after the be my friend incident. “D’you remember the first thing I ever said to you? ‘Be my friend’, and I sure as hell don’t remember you declining—”

“—Was that even an option?” Yeoreum sighs, though her lips tug upwards.

“...Shush. Anyway, friends look out for each other and confide in each other when something’s up. If you really don’t wanna tell me anything then I’m not gonna push it, but please,” Juyeon runs out of words, and her voice peters off. “Just… I’m here for you.”

There’s a thick silence in the air, almost suffocatingly stale. For a long moment Juyeon’s left to chew her bottom lip, watching Yeoreum avoid her eyes, and she’s almost certain this is going nowhere. Until:

“It’s something stupid,” Yeoreum murmurs. “Promise me you won’t laugh.”

Juyeon lets the tension release from her shoulders with a silent sigh of relief. “Okay. And it’s not stupid, by the way,” she says. Not if it’s you.

Yeoreum sucks in a breath, staring directly at the sheets. 

“It’s two different problems. Kinda. Or, maybe not. Whatever. It’s just… You and Jiyeon unnie… Do you think she’s your soulmate?”

“Wha—” 

“Because you and her… I think you guys look great together, and if you think she’s the one, then I’m happy for you.” Her lips press together in a thin line, and there’s a rehearsed air to her voice that almost sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, more than anything. 

“No way,” Juyeon blurts, “Are you jealous?”

Immediately, Yeoreum perks up to glare at her. “Yah! N-No, of course I’m not!”

Juyeon grins cheekily. “You’re totally jealous, Lee Yeoreum. I can read you like a book.”

“I’m not jealous,” Yeoreum huffs, pouting, but it’s a little shakier than usual. 

Juyeon grabs her chin, and tilts it up so that their eyes meet. “Hey. I’m just teasing, alright? And there’s nothing wrong with getting a little jealous, I mean, I… Sometimes, I get that way too.” 

When I think about you and your soulmate, she wants to say. When I think about the fact that you’re someone else’s other half.

Yeoreum stares her in the eye, a million endless thoughts flickering across her face all at once. 

“Do you think Jiyeon unnie’s your soulmate?” she asks quietly.

And truth to be told, Juyeon doesn’t know how to answer. Jiyeon could very well be her soulmate (going off of nothing but the fact that their first interaction matches the word on Juyeon’s wrist) and she’s nice enough. She’s stunningly pretty, and kind, and manages to hide a surprisingly mischievous demeanour underneath that first love smile, the very definition of innocence. But then Juyeon looks at her, and that’s all she sees — Kim Jiyeon, the good-natured campus crush. There’s none of the butterflies or the certainty in her gut that they’re two halves of a whole that she’s told to anticipate from meeting her soulmate.

But then again, is meeting your soulmate really supposed to be all that ? 

“I don’t know,” Juyeon finally says, because she doesn’t.

She threads their fingers together, acutely aware of the uncharacteristic tremble in Yeoreum’s arms. Leans in, and nuzzles into Yeoreum’s neck, where she breathes in the familiar scent of lavender. For what it’s worth, Yeoreum doesn’t pull away and give her a smack like she normally would. Instead, Juyeon can feel the feather-light trace of her fingers against her wrist, gently tracing those four letters over and over like she’s afraid they’ll disappear at any given moment.

Yeoreum’s warm against her skin; like a fluffy blanket. It must be the fever, Juyeon reasons.

She pulls away to look at Yeoreum’s face. Oceans swim in her eyes; an eternal summer in her gaze.

“But it doesn’t matter, Yeoreum-ah. I don’t care if she’s my soulmate, or just some random girl I met in Chem one day. You’re always going to be my number one.”

Soft fingertips ghost over the ebony tapestry on her wrist. Juyeon bathes in the scent of a nameless brand of perfume; basks in the warmth of her summer sun.

And then, breaking the stillness:

“Okay. Problem number two: I’ve talked to my soulmate.”

“ What? ”

Juyeon all but shoves Yeoreum off the bed in her shock. The younger girl yelps and turns to glare at Juyeon. “What the hell?”

“Yeah, what the hell!” Juyeon cries. “Don’t just drop a bomb on me like that!” That lump in her throat returns. 

“I was gonna elaborate,” Yeoreum says sulkily. She picks at the bedsheets, refusing to look at Juyeon. “And besides, it’s not like there’s anything to celebrate. She hasn’t noticed it’s me.”

A small, gleeful voice in the back of her head kind of hopes she never does, and Juyeon instantly hates herself for it. 

“Just tell them, if you’re sure,” she says. She smiles, trying her best not to look like she’s just been stabbed (which is an apt descriptor of how she feels right now). “Or drop some hints at her. I know you hate confrontation.”

Yeoreum looks halfway between hitting something and laughing. “I’m trying,” she says through her teeth, “But she’s being purposefully dense right now.”

“That sucks. She sounds like an annoying person to have to deal with.”

“You have no idea,” Yeoreum sighs, rolling her eyes. She pauses, eyes flicking over Juyeon, before speaking again. “Do you think… Do you think she knows, and she just doesn’t want to be with me?”

Juyeon nearly jumps off the bed. “Yah, Lee Yeoreum!” she cries, with a little more force than intended. The girl in question snaps upright, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Sorry, that came out weird,” she says, significantly more softly. And then, once she’s sure she can keep her voice in check, adds: “You’re literally perfect, why wouldn’t she wanna be with you? Literally anyone would be happy with you.”

I know I would.

A subtle red dusts Yeoreum’s cheeks, and she fails to suppress a small smile. Juyeon smiles back for a second, and then the realisation hits her: Yeoreum’s smiling like that for her soulmate. The mystery person she’s already met. The one she’ll spend the rest of her life with.

Not Juyeon.

Maybe I do hate this soulmate stuff after all.

How hypocritical of her to make fun of Yeoreum for getting a little jealous, when really, she’s much worse.

“Hey, wanna watch the new Yoo Yeonjung musical? I hear it’s pretty good.” It’s a sudden, half-hearted attempt to change the subject, but Yeoreum doesn’t seem to notice. She lets out an excited squeal and runs off to grab her laptop, leaving Juyeon to stare sadly after her.

-

(Juyeon stays over that night.

“You’re gonna get sick,” Yeoreum warns, but even she sounds much less opposed to the idea than before. Juyeon just waves her off with a grin and climbs under the covers, clad in a pair of pyjamas she’d left over a few months ago.

Yeoreum snuggles into the crook of her neck, soft pink hair tickling her skin, body warm against hers. Fingers wrap weakly around Juyeon’s wrist, right around the spot where her soul mark lies. 

Lee Yeoreum, her summer sun in the midst of winter.

Juyeon smiles. Cradles the back of Yeoreum’s head with her free hand, and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

And if Yeoreum’s still awake, she says nothing.)

-

So, as it turns out, Yeoreum’s right. 

Juyeon gets sick. 

It’s nothing more than a slight cough and cold, but she elects to stay home in the warmth and comfort of her own bed the entire week — especially since the alternative involves sitting through chemistry lectures in a shitty, unventilated lecture theatre. 

It isn’t like being stuck at home is a bad thing. Sure, she can’t attend any of her more enjoyable classes, but Yeoreum comes by to entertain her when she’s done with lessons, and even Luda seems to be in a much better mood lately. Plus, she gets to delay the inevitable confrontation with Jiyeon for a little while longer, so it’s a win in her book.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and no matter how much she tries to delay it, she eventually has to get back to classes.

Of course, it just so happens that the one and only class she shares with Jiyeon happens to be her first one. She finds Jiyeon standing at the entrance to the lecture theatre. She flashes a smile, her eyes crinkling into little crescents the way they always do, and gives her a little wave. Juyeon swallows. Smiles back, and tries to look as apologetic as possible.

“Jiyeon unnie,” she says, walking closer, “Look, about last week—”

“It’s fine.” she says, not a hint of resentment in her eyes. “Luda told me what happened. How’s Yeoreum?”

“She’s doing a lot better. How… What happened that night after I, y’know, stood you up? Were you waiting long?”

“Nope. Luda showed up not long after I did.” Something flickers across her face, and Jiyeon lowers her head to stare at the ground. Her smile falters, so minute that Juyeon wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been studying every little expression she’s been making over the past few minutes. 

“I wanted to say thank you, actually.” Her voice comes out different this time: far more resolute than she’s ever been, which isn’t an easy feat.

Juyeon’s brow creases. “What d’you—”

Jiyeon thrusts her right arm out where Juyeon can see it. Slowly, she sucks in a breath — and then pulls back the sleeve of her flannel to reveal tiny, midnight-black characters scrawled on the flesh of her forearm.

And I’d appreciate it if you both shut up and focused on the test.

One sentence, inscribed into her skin like the ebony thread of a tapestry. 

“I wouldn’t have met her without you,” Jiyeon says softly. A whisper into the wind; whistling past her like an arrow. “Thank you.”

She isn’t Jiyeon’s soulmate. The writing on her wrist doesn’t make up a set with Jiyeon’s; they aren’t meant to be two halves of a whole. And after all the desperation and effort she’s put in to find her soulmate, Juyeon should be broken, should feel the tears start welling behind her eyes by now, her vision blurring up, her heart stop in her chest, anything.

But instead, her shoulders loosen, and she stands a little straighter.

“Congrats,” Juyeon breathes, relief slipping through in a puff of frost. 

There’s a beat of silence as she and Jiyeon stare at each other, neither knowing what to say. Until Juyeon can’t hold it back anymore, and she lets out a breathy chuckle.

“How long have you known?”

No heartbreak, no resentment, not even a ripple of disappointment.

“Since the night we were supposed to meet. I was about to cancel on you, actually. Then Luda came by and told me you beat me to it.” They both laugh: at the irony of the situation, the stupidity of it all. Jiyeon fidgets with the sleeve of her flannel. Bites her lip in a poor attempt to hide a shy grin. “We… We had a nice chat.”

Just relief, and maybe it’s killing Juyeon that she doesn’t know why.

“I’m happy for you,” Juyeon says, because she is. “Guess it’s a good thing Reum fell sick when she did, then,” she adds, laughing. She grips tighter onto the strap of her backpack, like it’s some sort of lifeline. 

Jiyeon looks at her with a suspiciously knowing smile on her face. “Y’know, your soulmate’s probably closer than you think.” There’s that same twinkle in her eyes that Luda had that night. Juyeon wonders if soulmates start telepathically exchanging expressions too. 

“Seriously, you and Luda unnie and your cryptic messages. Do you guys know something I don’t?”

Jiyeon laughs. “Maybe. All I’m saying is that you’ve already been with her the whole time.”

“Really? I can’t think of anyone who—”

And out of all the moments in the past few weeks, all the conversations and moments in the warmth of a shared bed, all the winter nights under streetlamps and mysterious twinkles in knowing gazes — that’s when it all decides to click into place.

It’s not some earth-shattering epiphany like Jiyeon or Luda had perhaps expected it to be. There aren’t any lightbulbs flicking off in her head, no rapid-fire series of inferences and connections being made all at once. It’s more like the answer’s been there all along, and the fog shrouding it has only just decided to lift.

Always there, in the bottom of her heart. Deep down, she’d always known. Her teeny tiny crush telling her what her heart wants. That spike in her throat when things were off. 

(It doesn’t stop her from yelling.)

“What the fuck !”

She remembers she’s in public a second later when she feels a combination of confused and annoyed glares boring into her back from the surrounding students. “Sorry,” she mumbles, more to herself than anything. Jiyeon only smiles. Grabs her by the shoulders, and stares deep into her soul.

“Go,” she says. “She’s been waiting way too long.”

Juyeon doesn’t need to be told twice. For the second time in the past month, Juyeon finds herself breaking into a run towards Yeoreum’s apartment.

This time, she knows why.

-

It’s some strange sort of deja vu as she all but kicks the front door down and races down the hall. Rams the bedroom door open in a way that makes her shoulder protest, and is met with the sight of Yeoreum jumping about a food in the air from shock.

“Geez, unnie, you can’t keep doing that—”

“Let me see your soul mark.”

Yeoreum’s eyes widen. “W-what? Right now?”

“Yeah.” She walks up to Yeoreum, towering a full head over her. Watches the panic swirl in those deep brown eyes, and bites back a smile. “Why d’you look so scared? Are you afraid I’m gonna kiss you?”

That seems to annoy Yeoreum enough for the panic to melt away momentarily. “Don’t be stupid,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “I’ll kick you in the shins, and you’ll regret it.”

Juyeon gasps in mock horror. “ The Lee Yeoreum, committing battery? Who would’ve thought?”

“Me. I would’ve thought,” Yeoreum says, sidestepping Juyeon in one smooth motion. “Hey, d’you want some water, you sounded really out of breath—”

Juyeon grabs her wrist before she can escape. Yeoreum’s forced to stop in her tracks, and the panic returns as she gapes dumbly at Juyeon.

“Your soul mark,” Juyeon says. 

Yeoreum says nothing. 

“Reum.” Her voice cracks around the edges, like old ceramic. “Reum, please. ”

Juyeon lets go of her, and thrusts out her own wrist, the four letters a taunting black against the pale of her skin. “I was thinking with my head for way too long. Trying to match the words to people even if I knew it wasn’t right. But all along, I knew deep down who my soulmate was. I’m just… I was just too stupid to realise it until now.”

Heat builds up behind her eyes. The world goes blurry, like she’s looking through a fishtank. Yeoreum grows into a vaguely person-shaped blob in her vision.

“So, please,” Juyeon says. It comes out more like a whimper. “Please… Tell me I’m right. T-Tell me you feel the same.”

The room is eerily still.

Her vision gets clearer as the tears fall. Yeoreum isn’t looking at her. She’s staring at the ground, facing the door. 

Juyeon doesn’t feel relief this time. All the heartbreak and disappointment and sorrow feels like it’s slapped her across the face with some sort of wicked vengeance.

“I… I’ll leave,” Juyeon mumbles, bowing her head. She shuffles as fast as she can towards the door, and then— 

—Yeoreum catches her wrist.

“Son Juyeon.” Every word comes out slowly, every syllable spoken with great restraint in the voice she uses when she’s trying not to cry. Juyeon turns, and finds that she’s right: tears have started flowing down Yeoreum’s cheeks, her face all scrunched up as she stares at the ground and tries to will them away.

“You’re… You’re so stupid. What took you so fucking long?” She fails. Wracks out a sob, the tears flowing double-time. Some instinct overcomes Juyeon, and she steps forward to wipe the tears away with her thumb; her hand lingering to cup Yeoreum’s face. 

She tilts Yeoreum’s chin up. Lets their eyes meet; endless galaxies spilling across Yeoreum’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s all she can say, her own tears free-falling.

“You’re really so dense sometimes, it makes me wanna scream.” Despite it all, Yeoreum manages to laugh, and her arms tremble as she reaches for the neckline of her shirt. “B-But… I guess I’ll just have to live with it.”

She yanks down the hem of the neckline. Written along the sharp jut of her collarbone in the same inky black font, there lie three simple words.

Be my friend.

Three words, inscribed into her skin like the ebony thread of a tapestry. A tapestry that snakes and winds its way all around the world, across Korea, across all of Seoul and the room they’re standing in, a tapestry that finds its other end in Juyeon. 

The haze lifts; the face in her dreams reveals itself. Butterflies in her heart; a certainty in her gut that they’re two halves of a whole. 

She finds the summer sun in Yeoreum’s eyes. Basks in its heat. Makes up her mind. 

Juyeon leans in first. Yeoreum leans in harder. They meet in the middle, lips crashing together in a clash of teeth that rattles in her skull. Salt on her lips; sparks bubbling in their touch. Waves crashing over her; suffocating in the best way, filling her up with so much feeling that she might just burst.

Yeoreum’s still crying when they finally pull apart.

Juyeon laughs, and it crackles in the air like a dying fireplace. Loops her arms around Yeoreum’s neck and presses their foreheads together. “Why’re you crying? Was it really that bad?” she teases.

Somehow, Yeoreum finds it in her to glare. “Shut up,” she pouts, expression faltering. A moment passes, infinitesimally long in the shared beat of their hearts. “I’m sorry. For not telling you earlier. I didn’t know how, a-and no matter how many hints I dropped you seemed so set on Jiyeon unnie, s-so I thought maybe you would be mad if I turned out to be your soulmate—”

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. I was being really stupid, okay? It wasn’t a you problem.” It seems so obvious now; all the hints and clues that she was right there all along, and the full weight of her own stupidity comes crashing down on her. “Besides, we got there in the end, didn’t we?” 

Juyeon cocks one of her signature dumb, dopey grins, the ones she knows Yeoreum can’t help but giggle and roll her eyes at. “And I meant what I said the other day. You’re literally perfect. I can’t think of a better person to be my soulmate.”

The night sky and Big Dipper and the Milky Way dance in Yeoreum’s gaze. Juyeon thinks she could cry and laugh and melt and explode all at once. 

“Be my girlfriend,” Juyeon murmurs, quiet and low into the space between them.

This time, Yeoreum says nothing; just leans in for another kiss. 

They fit together, two halves of a whole.