Chapter Text
Do you ever believe in the Red String Theory?
Not only did Jisung believe in it—it was his last hope. He knew how silly it sounded; a grown man clinging to a myth about invisible threads and destined reunions. He could barely stand himself for it, but when logic failed to explain his pain, he turned to the supernatural.
He had tried so many ways to forget Minho. He went on countless dates, sitting across from strangers in dim-lit cafes, desperately wishing to meet The One. He wanted a love of his life who actually stayed, someone to replace the person who had occupied his mind for all these years.
But the dates were always a reminder of what he was missing. Like the time he sat across from a man who spent twenty minutes mocking the slice of cheesecake Jisung had ordered.
"I don't get how people eat that much sugar," the man had said, leaning back with a smug, performative air as he cradled a cup of black coffee. "Real men don't need sweets. Give me a black americano any day. It’s the only way to actually taste the bean."
Jisung drank americanos daily, too. He knew the taste. But he also knew the comfort of a soft, tangy cheesecake after a long week. He just nodded silently, the ick rising in his throat as the man continued to ramble, trying to look cool and manly over a cup of bitter water. Jisung realized then that he wasn't looking for a coffee connoisseur; he was looking for someone who wouldn't make him feel small for wanting something sweet. Someone who might actually offer him a bite of theirs.
Usually, letting go was easy for him. Jisung was good at moving on. When he broke up with his ex, it had been easy. They sat on the couch, agreed that the spark had died, and by the next morning, Jisung had deleted the photos and rearranged his furniture. Within a week, the ex was nothing but a past—a name in a contact list he never scrolled to. He could fold those chapters away and walk forward as if the other person never existed.
But why was it so hard with Minho?
Minho wasn't an ex. He wasn't even a close friend. He was just a senior from high school—a boy who existed in the periphery of Jisung’s youth, and his first real crush. Back then, Minho was the quiet, sharp-eyed upperclassman Jisung would occasionally share a fleeting glance with in the crowded halls between second and third period.
Now, Jisung was twenty-five, sitting in a studio as a professional music composer. He spent his hours layering melodies and chasing perfect chords, but his own heart was stuck on a loop from seven years ago. At twenty-five, he felt like a fool. He was still waiting for a thread to pull him back to a hallway he hadn't walked in nearly a decade.
The universe, however, seemed to have a sick sense of humor. It refused to let the wound heal, feeding it with coincidences that made Jisung feel a flicker of hope, as if it were all part of the red string theory, as if this was how the universe was trying to give them a chance.
First, the sudden meeting at the airport. Amidst thousands of travelers, there was Minho, standing by a luggage carousel.
Second, there was that night when Jisung sat near a quiet park. As he drank his favorite soda, he spotted a familiar figure walking two cats on leashes.
Minho.
Each time, Jisung’s heart would hammer against his ribs, thinking: Is this it? Is the universe pulling the string? Is it forcing us into the same space because we’re meant to be?
But the string didn't lead to a confession. It never even brought them together.
Instead, Jisung found out the truth through a mutual friend's Instagram story. Minho was dating Seungmin.
It was a punch to the gut. Seungmin was someone Jisung knew. They work together. But, Why?
If this was the Red String at work, it was cruel. If Minho had to date someone else, why couldn't it be a random stranger? Someone Jisung didn't know, so he could at least tell himself they lived on different sides of the world?
The coincidences were there. They were connected, just not in the way Jisung wanted. These moments weren’t opportunities for him to talk to Minho; they were just chances to see them together.
He saw them once at the office. Jisung had just left the studio, exhausted, when he noticed Minho’s car parked by the lobby. He paused without meaning to, watching as Seungmin slipped into the passenger seat, wearing a tired but content smile.
Minho leaned over, pressing a quick peck to his lips before driving off.
Jisung stared at the ceiling that night, the silence of his room feeling heavy. Was this part of the theory? Was the string meant to tie you to someone just so you could have a front-row seat to their happiness with someone else?
Was this what the red string theory really was? A tether to a heartbreak he couldn’t escape?
Or was it just… not their time yet? Was it foolish of Jisung to still hope for a happy ending?