Archive of Our Own

Seungmin sees, but does not follow, the little red string whose one end is tied neatly around his pinky. Just as Seungmin knows instinctively when it first appears (or rather, when he first gains the ability to spot it, at the auspicious age of seven) that he shouldn’t tell anyone about it, including his mom, who is arguably Seungmin’s favorite person in the whole wide world, if only because her own red string does not lead back to Seungmin’s dad, and the question of Why? is not something he is sure he can answer.

(The fighting starts up soon after that and when his parents divorce a few years later, the month before Seungmin enters middle school and as the last of the cherry blossoms fall, he keeps his head down and doesn’t say a word.)

Even at such a young age, Seungmin has the self-awareness to know that this newfound ability of his is not common and certainly not normal. Otherwise, people in real life and on TV would talk about it all the time, in the present tense, and not within the context of old wives’ tales and folklore, or as a commercial gimmick during Valentine’s Day exclusively.

That he is a little bit different is the conclusion that Seungmin draws at seven years old, when he trains his body not to flinch as it navigates a world full of twisted, twining connections, until he grows a little bit older and learns how to toggle his vision on and off.

Little Seungmin does his research a little bit at a time, remembers to clear his search history on the family computer, and never speaks on the topic to the same person more than once if he can help it. Seungmin is exceedingly careful to keep his interest minimal and to leave the impression that these invisible strings are nothing more than a childhood fancy. Still, he can’t help the way his eyes dart back and forth at seemingly nothing, which his mom chalks up to being a side effect of Seungmin’s steadily worsening eyesight, and takes him to see an optometrist one day after school.

“Will glasses be enough? He squints and stares at empty spaces all the time and it’s a little off-putting, if I’m being honest.”

The graying optician flips through Seungmin’s exam results with ease, uncrosses his legs to relay that, “Other than a little near-sightedness, he seems to be okay.”

Seungmin learns how to fake it better, after that; keeps his gaze trained forward, refusing to linger on anything or anyone for longer than is necessary, and wears glasses as a defense mechanism more than anything else.

Only occasionally, he’ll wonder why he’s been gifted (or cursed) with the vision that he has, because it’s not as if Seungmin comes from a long-line of clairvoyants or is a descendant of some deity with authority over the realms of love and marriage (at least, he thinks). Seungmin is just Kim Seungmin, of the Gwangsan Kim’s, born and raised in Gangnam-gu, Seoul; not so boring as to chalk everything up to an abnormality in his brain or fanciful enough to think of it as magic, but rather occupying some liminal space in-between. Almost, but not quite. Real, but not real.

Seungmin believes in it, though—the validity of the strings. Because who’s going to believe him, if not himself?

Regardless of his gifts, Seungmin operates on a policy of non-interference due to the fact that he can’t decide between the validity of Fate vs. human autonomy, which one trumps over the other, and whether it’s totally egotistical to assign himself the role of capital F, Fate.

Not that seven year old Seungmin is thinking about these things to begin with. His conception of his abilities doesn’t fully form until Seungmin hits puberty and then conversations around ‘the birds and the bees’ become increasingly hard to ignore.

As a result, Seungmin sometimes thinks about the person attached to the other half of his string.

Do they live in Seoul? Are they even Korean? Does any of it matter?

Seungmin knows first-hand that the one he marries doesn’t have to be his other half. It happens all the time, all over the world; people growing old and achieving happiness with the one they love, regardless of if some arbitrary string ties them together.

When he’s thirteen, sitting across from a pair of twins with equally dark eyes on the bus, fingers intertwined with a length of string shared between them, Seungmin realizes that soulmates exist in all sorts of permutations: between siblings, best friends, family members, and more; across every spectrum of identity, without any rhyme or reason.

Romantic love is not the only love there is.

Seungmin is still a complete person, whether he’s found his soulmate or not.

And Seungmin sees the beauty in it – in choosing, rather than putting faith in the unknowable, unfathomable Universe.

He thinks it would be nice to be chosen. Out of the seven billion people living on this giant, floating space rock, Seungmin thinks it would be nice to be someone’s choice.

Soulmates are not the end all, be all – Seungmin knows this better than most.

(And yet, in the haze of his dreams, he longs for a face he can’t make out, lips he feels as insubstantially as the wind, and arms that hold a warmth that doesn’t exist in real life.

When he wakes up in the morning, something deep in Seungmin aches.)

~~~~

At seventeen, Seungmin is convinced he’ll never meet his other half, and is resigned to this fate, no longer thinking about the possibility as often as he did in the previous three years leading up to now. The world is too big and too wide and there are too many things Seungmin wants to accomplish besides.

Things like debuting, for example.

Seungmin has always had an interest in singing, but it doesn't become his dream until Daehwi dangles the possibility of it in front of him with the news that JYPE is holding open auditions again in the fall. Seungmin goes back and forth for a while before deciding to bite the bullet and signing up for a slot. His parents are supportive of him, at least. Quietly, Seungmin gives his tiny hope wings.

On the day of his audition, Seungmin feels dazed and slow. There’s a muffled quality about the world, dulled down to a blunt, except for the moment he steps into the room and is standing in front of a foldout table with four tight-lipped evaluators in uncomfortable-looking chairs. Then it seems as if the world is in full bloom. Colors are brighter, his senses heightened. A woman with a bob cut asks him some basic questions, like his name and his age, where he’s from and what he’s prepared for them today. He tries not to shrink when they shuffle through their files in order to find his profile. He must be one of hundreds they’ll see today.

Don’t think about that.

Seungmin clears his throat and answers to the best of his abilities, diligent in this as he is in all things, while also attempting to showcase every ounce of wit and charm he has ever possessed. In the moment, he doesn’t have time to worry about whether his personal brand of charisma is something that can only be felt over time, or if he’ll be able to capture people’s attention from the very start. All he can do right now is sing and hope for the best.

“Today, I’ll be singing Kim Dong Ryul-sunbaenim’s Old Song.”

They all nod their heads, attentive. The woman on the far right gives him an encouraging smile, which doesn’t calm his hammering heart, but is comforting nonetheless.

He clears his throat.

And sings.

Seungmin pours all of himself into the lyrics, starting in the depths of his diaphragm, and feeling the notes surging upwards and outwards and into the room. Subconsciously, his hands move of their own accord, gripping and releasing, like a maestro conducting the cadence and delivery of the song. His eyes flutter shut during the chorus, so immersed he nearly forgets his surroundings.

When Seungmin opens them again, he feels a sense of peace wash over him. Contentment. He did his best and that’s all that really matters.

When they ask Seungmin to come back again for a second look next week, he nearly passes out.

~~~~

When Seungmin first meets Hwang Hyunjin, it is at a trainee showcase, and Seungmin can’t take his eyes off of him, for more reasons than one.

He is beautiful, of course. All JYP trainees inherently are or will grow up to become. But Hyunjin is beautiful in a different sort of way; like poetry and music and sweet nothings whispered just before dawn, sentimental and soft, champagne bubbles on the tip of his tongue. And when he dances, quick as lightning but with all the flow of a river running downstream, Seungmin holds his breath and doesn’t release it until the boy finally exits stage left.

The impression he leaves on Seungmin is nothing short of unforgettable and not just because attached at the end of his pinky is a string that leads straight to Seungmin’s own.

He staggers backwards, a little light-headed.

“You okay there?” someone asks, fingers crushed around his upper arm to keep Seungmin standing upright. It’s one of the newer trainees, a boy from Busan, and Seungmin doesn’t know his name. He only nods and shrugs him off, mumbling a quiet thanks before the next act takes their place on stage.

It feels so surreal being able to see the end of his line, after so many years of watching it stretch out and disappear into the distance, for it to finally have a finish. A person.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Seungmin doesn’t know how to process this information. He doesn’t know what to do with it either.

He’s never thought about his sexuality in any concrete sort of way, although he’s found tons of people attractive in the most clinical sense of the word – which has everything to do with the fact that he knows, more acutely than most, that there exists a person out there who’s made for him and that he, in turn, is made for. Seungmin isn’t necessarily saving himself, but it also feels like cheating to engage in anything past an innocent schoolboy crush, emotionally speaking, even though there’s no guarantee that his and Hyunjin’s connection is romantic or will even be reciprocated.

Seungmin’s also wrestled with his Sight for years and has imagined all different types of people attached to the end of his string; is prepared to love and accept them no matter who they are or what identities they hold.

But for the person on the other end of his string—for Hyunjin, who may or may not see the red string in the way that Seungmin is able to, or even believes in the concept of soulmates in the first place—can the same be said? Will he be able to accept Seungmin for all that he is?

He has to approach this situation delicately and without making any assumptions about Hyunjin or the nature of their link, romantically inclined or otherwise. That’s a bridge they’ll cross when they get there and probably won’t get to for a while, since Seungmin is still standing at the starting line by himself. Regardless, it won’t be easy. They’re both trainees under JYPE. It’s already taboo, and will become much more so if they both end up debuting.

But that is something to ruminate on for another day.

For now, Seungmin nurses the happiness and relief at finally meeting the end of his line, an end to so many years of wishing and waiting and wondering. For Hwang Hyunjin.

~~~~

Seungmin knows Bang Chan in a vague sort of way, but more than the reputation the older has at school for being an all-around good guy, what catches Seungmin’s attention is the fact that the blonde has two strings attached to his pinky, twined together so tightly it could be mistaken for one if Seungmin were paying any less attention.

As it is, the sight of the two strings gives him pause in a way his vision hasn’t in years, and Bang Chan peers at him strangely when the younger stops in the middle of the hallway to watch the other pass.

A year later, when Seungmin wins 2nd place at the 13th Open Audition and sees Chan exiting one of the production studios with two figures trailing behind him, everything clicks into place. His two soulmates.

“Seungmin, hi.” Chan greets, friendly as always. He makes it a point to learn everyone’s names, regardless of how many of them pass through or how long they actually end up staying with the company. Seungmin admires that about Chan, among other things. “You know you don’t actually have to bow every time you see me. We’re both still trainees.”

Seungmin straightens himself out. “You were still my senior in school,” he says matter of factly.

“You’re way too polite.” Chan laughs and, noticing Seungmin’s curious gaze trained behind him, quickly introduces the others. “This is Changbin and this is Jisung. You were born in 2000 right?”

Seungmin nods, carefully observing the two shorter boys. Changbin has a sharp chin and stronger presence, which is the complete opposite of Jisung who is bright-eyed and exuberant. Chan is somewhere in between them both physically and in his physicality, his stronger features softened by the warmth of his grin. But somehow, seeing the three of them together like this, shucking on coats and jackets on their way out to dinner after spending hours laying tracks, it just simply makes sense.

“Cool. Changbin’s a year older but Hannie’s the same age.”

Seungmin bows at them, too. “Nice to meet you. My name is Seungmin.”

Changbin, surprisingly, is the first to greet him. “I know. I was in the audience during the last round of your audition. You’ve got a good voice, dude. Congrats on making it into the company.” He smiles then and it tempers the harsher aspects of his face. Seungmin gets the impression that Changbin is not as intimidating as he appears.

Jisung, on the other hand, Seungmin recognizes from the handful of dance lessons they’ve shared, where he spends most of their break time in the corner cracking jokes and laughing loudly with his friends. The Jisung before him now is so mild and complacent, almost hidden (or hiding?) behind Chan and Changbin, Seungmin is surprised to find that the two versions of him are somehow one and the same.

Jisung waves shyly, with a slow roll of his wrist.

Seungmin bows one more time, for good measure.

“Are you headed home?” Chan inquires. It’s almost nine o’clock, which means almost nothing when they’ve all had days bleeding into nights with practice sessions that don’t end until the sun comes up.

Comparatively, his schedule is lighter today. “In a little bit. I have to make some copies of this new sheet music and update my practice log before I go.”

This catches Jisung’s attention. “You actually write practice logs? I gave those up after a month into training.”

“Give it time. Seungmin’s still new.”

“And besides,” Changbin sneers, “not everyone is as lazy as you, Hannie.”

“Yah!”

Seungmin doesn’t know if he’s allowed to laugh at the indignation on Jisung’s face so he doesn’t. What Seungmin does do, however, is crack a smile. He can’t help it – Jisung is cute.

“You’re giving Seungmin a bad first impression of me!” the rapper whines, puffy cheeks puffed out even larger.

“It’s okay,” Seungmin is quick to reassure. “My first impression of you was already bad to begin with.”

Chan and Changbin double over in laughter while Jisung splutters.

“W-what? Why? What does that even mean?”

“Well the first time we met, the company was taking all the new trainees on a tour of the building when we came across your body passed out in a hallway. After checking to see if you were alive, the guide jokingly used you as an example of how hard trainee life could be and encouraged us to take pictures of you in your natural habitat.” He takes a second to scroll through his photo gallery before pulling up the aforementioned shot. “See?”

Depicted is Jisung slumped against a wall, chin to chest, and dribbling drool down his shirt.

“Holy shit.” This time, Jisung joins in on the laughter. His guffaws are so addictive to hear that it gets Seungmin chuckling as well.

“Send that to me!” Changbin demands, which is how he ends up exchanging numbers with all of 3RACHA.

Before they part, Jisung claps him on the shoulder and says, “You look like a huge nerd, but you’re actually kind of funny.”

“You could have left the nerd part out,” he replies.

“Yeah, but then the second part wouldn’t have been as impactful.”

Seungmin laughs and watches the three soulmates take off, feeling rather excited to go home and tell his mom about the three new friends he made at the company today.

~~~~

Filming Stray Kids is the first taste Seungmin has of what being an idol is like.

Before, he had an idea of it, of course. Imagining is free and oftentimes the only thing still keeping him going, propelling him forward, despite the strain that trainee life has on his body and occasionally his mental health. But experiencing it is a whole other matter.

Obviously, Seungmin is used to the “training” aspect of the survival format; the long hours in the dance studio memorizing choreo and routines, before turning around to practice singing until his voice is hoarse and he’s entirely out of breath. All of this, while questioning if and when he’ll be able to debut, or if he even has what it takes. That has been Seungmin’s life for a little over a year, comparatively much shorter than Chan’s seven years, but also not a length of time to sniff at either.

It’s the media aspect of being an idol, of having cameras shoved in his face for what feels 24 hours of the day, the constant attention, scrutiny and speculation by fans online after watching him on TV and occasionally in real life, when he’s recognized on the streets – that part is new. That part is harder than Seungmin could have ever imagined.

Because it’s one thing to fall in love, and it’s another to do it for everyone else to see.

Hyunjin, even without knowing about their soulmate connection, latches onto Seungmin pretty fast. Somewhat out of necessity since it’s nice to have a same-age friend and Jisung is out of the question on account of the fact that they hate each other. Felix is a decent option, although the language barrier can prove to be extremely limiting when more than anything Hyunjin wants and needs a sympathetic ear, someone to share his burdens with, his every hope and deeply-buried fear.

Given this, Seungmin sometimes feels like a means to an end for his group mate as the most viable choice, only Hyunjin is so free in his affections and Seungmin is already halfway in love, that he doesn’t really mind. It’s better than the cordial distance of before, passing each other in hallways with curt smiles or nods of acknowledgement, sitting at opposite ends of the table when a group of them go out for lunch. Hyunjin has a reputation for being an Ice Prince, difficult in getting to know, and isolated in his castle up above. Holier-than-thou.

But he melts, slowly, for Seungmin. Allows Seungmin to see into his soft core and his pretty, pretty heart.

It’s enough, he thinks. To have Hyunjin like this, as a teammate and friend. Close enough to touch, to share a dream with, and warmth. It’s enough, he repeats, trying to convince himself to not let his hands linger, to not lean in too close. To not let their string instead become a noose.

It’s enough, Seungmin thinks, because it has to be.

~~~~

Entering JYP sets into motion for Seungmin three different things:

1. Finding his soulmate in a fellow trainee

2. Putting Seungmin on a direct path towards achieving his dreams

3. Connecting him with someone who understands what it’s like to see the strings

The first time Seungmin meets Lee Minho, he is a brand new trainee, and something in Seungmin feels compelled to take the older under his wing despite himself having only a few more months of experience under his belt. It’s partially out of sympathy since Seungmin isn’t too far removed from being fresh meat in a system meant to pulverize and shape them into something processed and more palatable by its end. But truthfully, it’s because Seungmin’s never met anyone without a connection, a tight little loop around their pinky. It feels like seeing a person without a head.

The third time Minho catches Seungmin staring at his hand, they’re eating lunch at a nearby convenience store after dance practice when the older boy casually shares, “I was born without one. At least that’s what my grandma says.”

Seungmin nearly chokes on his egg roll. “What?”

“You can see them, right?” Minho holds up his hand, wiggling his little finger back and forth in front of Seungmin’s face. “The strings of Fate. And don’t bother denying it. I can always tell.”

The last sentence catches him by surprise. “You mean you’ve met more than one? Someone other than me?”

“My grandma for one, but a few others as well. Anyone who stares at my hand a little too long is usually a good bet.”

Seungmin scratches the back of his neck and casts his eyes away, over towards a gaggle of girls rounding the corner and coming their way. “Sorry. I thought I was being subtle.”

Minho snorts. “You weren’t, but it’s okay. I know it’s like seeing a freak show, the fact that I don’t have a string.”

The brutal but honest description makes Seungmin flinch. He wonders if Minho has made peace with the fact, or if his exaggerated nonchalance is overcompensating for the fact that he hasn’t. His expression remains impassive enough that Seungmin can’t really tell. Minho is already an enigma most days as it is.

“I wouldn’t call it a freak show,” Seungmin mumbles, somewhere between sympathy and guilt. “It’s not any weirder than 3RACHA each having multiple strings of Fate.”

Minho blandly points out, “True, but I don’t see you going out of your way to be nicer to them.”

“I’m just a nice person in general!” he protests, even though the sinking feeling in his gut suggests that Minho has seen through his unintentional guise. Well-meaning pity that Minho recognizes all too well.

“It’s fine, Seungmin-ah. I’ve never needed anyone else. And besides,” he smiles, mischief raising the corners of his lips to connect with the corners of his eyes. “You have a unique situation of your own.”

It occurs to Seungmin then that Minho can see his string in the same way Seungmin cannot see the other’s. The string that leads back to Hwang Hyunjin.

“Don’t remind me,” Seungmin groans, slumping in his seat but stopping just before he can slide all the way down to the ground, wishing for a sinkhole to open up beneath him. Minho has no doubt been witness to the bumbling way Seungmin is trying to approach his and Hyunjin’s relationship, holding the older boy at arm’s length while simultaneously keeping his heart within Hyunjin’s outstretched grasp. Love, but not.

A headache, above everything else.

“Yeah,” Minho laughs, clasping a hand onto Seungmin’s shoulder, somewhat mocking but mostly sincere. “Good luck with that.”

~~~~

“Stop, stop, stop! Yah, Kim Seungmin, were you born with inverted limbs?” Hyunjin giggles at his impression of their dance instructor, the mean one with the perpetual frown, in an attempt to lighten the mood after an hour of working on choreo and Seungmin still can’t nail down this one particular sequence with any sort of consistency. Seungmin’s never done anything that requires District 9’s level of energy or attention to detail; hates feeling like he’s holding everyone back in the practice room when there are a million other things to do in preparation for their debut and with so little time to do it. He’s got a countdown for it on his phone: 39 days remaining. Barely over a month left.

If it were any other member teasing him, namely Minho or Chan-hyung, Seungmin thinks he would cry, already frustrated enough for not getting the moves right and especially after he’s been working on them so hard as it is. There isn’t a ceiling for effort, but if there was, Seungmin would have busted through twice over. But because it’s Hyunjin, who has been unfailingly patient and kind enough to stay behind to help out without once being asked, Seungmin can relax.

“This is impossible,” he whines, back against the wall and sinking down onto his butt onto the ground.

“Think more positively,” Hyunjin chides, twisting open the top of his reusable water bottle and offering Seungmin a sip. Seungmin chugs half of it in one go and tries not to let the water go down the wrong pipe from laughter seeing the affronted expression on Hyunjin’s face.

He wipes away the few drops dribbling down his chin with the back of a hand. “You’re starting to sound like Changbin-hyung.”

“Just try it,” Hyunjin insists.

Seungmin obliges, as he always does when it comes to his soulmate, and even if Hyunjin wasn’t, Seungmin thinks he would still instinctively give in. Hyunjin is too cute to turn down. “Okay – there is a high but not fixed probability that I will never get this right.”

“That’s the spirit!” Hyunjin seats himself across from Seungmin and leans into ruffle the younger boy’s sweat-matted hair. “It’s okay daengdaeng-ie, you’ll master it soon enough.”

“Ugh.” Seungmin groans and lets his head hit the wall. Thump.

Hyunjin hums thoughtfully. “Rather than only thinking positively, maybe you just need more positive reinforcement?”

He cracks open an eyelid and peers at Hyunjin from down the bridge of his nose. “Like what?”

Hyunjin’s mouth skews to the side in contemplation. His eyes alight when he comes up with a plan. “How about, if you can get the choreo right more than twice in the next hour, I’ll let you be my Valentine?”

“Am I not already?” They spent the whole afternoon together. Seungmin paid for Hyunjin’s triangle kimbap on their way to practice even though Hyunjin sprung for the more expensive kimchi tuna option instead of just plain spam. Which is pretty romantic of him, honestly, considering they’re not even dating or anywhere close to it considering the ban and everything.

“Like a proper one,” Hyunjin grins. “With chocolate, kisses, and everything.”

“K-kisses?” Seungmin stutters, not sure if he heard the other boy correctly. The Morse code and blaring noises at the start of District 9 have been playing on a loop in his brain for the past few weeks. He can barely form an actual thought that isn’t “Flip it all over, eh oh” these days.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin confirms, raising both eyebrows in challenge. He’s being incredibly nonchalant for someone who cringes easily but is still prepositioning Seungmin like this. “But like I said, only if you can get the choreo right.”

“Just to clarify,” Seungmin straightens up, “You’re saying twice consecutively?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “Just twice.”

“In an hour? Your lack of faith in me is staggering.”

“I’m just setting you up for success,” Hyunjin laughs.

The two of them rest for another few minutes, Hyunjin sidling up next to him as they quietly scroll through their phones, occasionally leaning over to share a funny meme they’d come across with the other. Seungmin thinks it’s nice being able to share space with Hyunjin, as well as silence, and have it be comfortable.

Stray Kids is still a relatively new team, cobbled together before their reality show less than a year ago, so navigating individual and group dynamics has been just as important as working towards their debut. Seungmin still feels awkward sometimes around his hyungs, and Jisung despite being the same age, because Jisung has already accomplished so much being ⅓ of 3RACHA and all. With Hyunjin though, it’s easy; partially because he’s so open with his feelings and adores Seungmin unabashedly, and also as a result of their soulmate connection. Seungmin approaches the older boy with already lowered guards while Hyunjin’s bubbly nature plows through the inch or two of whatever’s left, as effective as tissue paper when it comes to keeping Hyunjin out of his heart. If Seungmin was halfway in love before, then he’s fully in the throes of it now.

“Alright.” Hyunjin bounces up onto the balls of his feet, reaching out a hand to help Seungmin stand up. He takes it, grunting as his muscles protest the sudden change in positioning. “You ready?”

“No. But you can queue up the music anyways.”

Seungmin thinks he should be embarrassed by how much harder he works, visible in the rivulets of sweat like curtain bangs dripping from his forehead, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. He takes direction well from Hyunjin, each attempt cleaner than the last, although as the hour drags on, so does his body’s resistance to movement, so his angles and footwork get a little sloppy but at least he’s hitting the moves in order and correctly. By the end of it, Seungmin has nailed the choreo 6/10 times.

Hyunjin beams. “I guess positive reinforcement does work!”

“I held up my end of the bargain,” Seungmin coughs, unable to look the dancer in the eyes as a flush works its way to his face that can’t be excused due to his previous exertion.

“What do you want first?”

“The um, the kisses.” He mumbles the words, barely audible over the sound of the air conditioner humming in the background. The scuff mark on his shoe looks incredibly interesting right now.

Hyunjin doesn’t so much as hesitate, simply sings out, “Sure thing!” and then walks away. Seungmin experiences whiplash from how fast he looks up, watching as Hyunjin makes a beeline for his bag and rummages around for a bag of Hersey kisses.

“With chocolate, kisses, and everything!”

Oh. Hyunjin meant chocolate kisses, noun; not chocolate, COMMA, kisses.

“Oh,” he inadvertently says aloud.

Seungmin feels dumb. And then mortified because the emotional sequence of confusion, clarity, and disappointment must show obviously on his face, judging by the way Hyunjin blinks before flashing him a smile like the cat that’s got the cream.

“By any chance, Seungminnie–”

“No!”

“No, what?”

“No,” he grunts, his whole body aflame, burning hot like fever. He takes two wide steps back, putting distance between them in case Hyunjin can hear his hammering heart. “Just no.”

Hyunjin follows, slinking closer and grabbing the tip of an ear, rubs at the cartilage so softly, sapping away some of the heat. His tone is impish, but Hyunjin’s eyes are fond. “You’re really cute when you’re flustered.”

“Shut up.”

To which he responds by pressing his lips to Seungmin’s cheek. A real kiss, gentle, and just as sugary sweet. “These kinds of kisses you don’t have to earn. All you have to do is ask.”

Quietly, Seungmin ask for another one.

Quietly, Hyunjin kisses him again.

~~~~

March of 2018, they finally debut.

Trial after trial and months of tribulation – they finally, finally debut. They are “STEP OUT! Hello, we are Stray Kids!” when they introduce themselves to staff members and seniors and strangers in the crowd, on music broadcasts and variety shows and photo/video sets; they are hoobaes and rookies and bright-eyed, bushy-tailed newcomers. They are everything Seungmin’s worked for and the people he wants to run alongside with the most.

Most days, he barely has time to think, catching just enough sleep in the small snatches of it he can get to function at the most basic level. Seungmin blinks and breathes and keeps himself upright, at least. Quite the feat for someone who is busy for 20 out of 24 hours in a day. When he’s not filming video content and promoting on shows, he’s heading back to the company for dance practice and vocal lessons and miscellaneous training, all of which is squeezed in between still going to school. Because Seungmin wants to graduate and take the college entrance exam; even at the start of his journey, Seungmin is planning for the end.

Who is he outside of Stray Kids? Seungmin considers this question carefully.

Hyunjin is different. He doesn’t bother thinking that far in advance, or really ruminating on the future at all; is only taking the suneung because Seungmin suggests that he should and Hyunjin figures, why not? Since he’s already helping Seungmin study whenever there’s any semblance of downtime in their schedules. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered, being someone who sees life as a series of self-contained moments; absorbing every sight, taste and sound, internalizing every emotion, and condensing the very essence of things into a pulp, squeezing it down to the very last drop.

For Hyunjin, he doesn’t want to do anything other than dancing on stage and performing for fans for as long as he’s able. It’s all he really knows how to do, having worked his ass off for years to debut, so Hyunjin pours more and more of himself into practicing, long hours in front of the mirror honing his craft, enough to rival Chan who practically lives inside of the studio but without having grown their leader’s thick skin. He takes every criticism, including the most inflammatory kind of vitriol, to heart.

“What if it’s true?” he sniffles into Seungmin’s shoulder. “What if I’m not good enough?”

They’re squirreled away inside of his and Felix’s room, the Australian boy somewhere in the living room playing video games with Eric online. Seungmin had been finishing off a diary entry before bed when he heard Hyunjin hesitating in front of the door.

“You are good enough,” Seungmin insists, squeezing their joined hands even tighter, channeling comfort through their link, both physical and unseen. Hyunjin often comes to him whenever he’s feeling like this and for the rare times that he doesn’t, afraid of being a burden, Seungmin instinctively knows to seek him out.

Hyunjin’s voice is waterlogged when he warbles, “You have to say that! You’re contractually obligated to, as my teammate.”

“And because you know where I sleep at night,” he jokes, which successfully gets Hyunjin to crack a smile, if only for a bit. He rubs soothing circles into Hyunjin’s wrist with a thumb. “Don’t bother with what miserable trolls online have to say. The people that care about you, the ones who see how hard you work every day and how much you care, they’re the ones that matter.”

The dancer tilts his face to stare up into Seungmin’s eyes, breath ghosting along the cut of his jaw and the curve of his cheek. “You matter to me.”

His heart skips a beat. “You have to say that,” Seungmin laughs, ha ha ha, each syllable stilted, suddenly nervous and overheating from the words and Hyunjin’s close proximity, the latter of which is acutely felt the more Seungmin’s heart starts stuttering inside of his chest. His pinky finger tingles. “You’re contractually obligated to, as my teammate.”

Hyunjin smiles again, so nakedly sincere when he declares, “You’re my best friend, Minnie.”

Seungmin swallows. “You’re mine, too.”

~~~~

It’s for the best that Hyunjin and Jisung squash their remaining beef shortly after their official debut and even better that they become genuine friends, the way they should have been all along had their childish squabbles and useless pride not gotten in the way when they were younger. At the very least, everyone breathes a little easier knowing they can preserve their energy for more important things rather than breaking up tiffs, mediating internal conflict, and worrying about whether or not the interpersonal tension bleeds through Hyunsung’s acting when they’re outside of the dorm or in front of the cameras.

How Hyunjin got away with it for so long when every fleeting emotion shows on his face is incredible. But also, Seungmin thinks the people who monitor and edit all of their raw footage into salvageable video content deserve a raise.

Seungmin studies them now as they sit side by side in the living room, putting a jigsaw puzzle together as some drama they’ve been binge-watching plays in the background. They’re mostly done with the puzzle, having picked at it for most of the afternoon as everyone else had escaped outside to enjoy some much needed time off. Seungmin himself is coming back from lunch with his mom, toeing off his shoes at the door when he catches them talking in quiet tones. Jisung murmurs something that makes Hyunjin laugh.

Hyunjin loves to laugh and now he can do so openly at all of Jisung’s jokes. It’s not the way that Hyunjin laughs at Seungmin, mostly out of endearment and because he thinks Seungmin is cute when he’s high-tension, puppy-like in every aspect of the word; but belly laughs he reserves almost exclusively for Jisung, eyes crinkled and head thrown back, sometimes hard enough to snort, decidedly inelegant but so much more real for it.

Hyunjin is the most beautiful when he laughs, Seungmin thinks.

Hyunjin is the most beautiful around Jisung.

“Oh Minnie,” the older boy says, wiping tears from his eyes when he notices Seungmin by the doorway, hand on his diaphragm because he laughed so hard it hurts. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin says, chest constricting for some inexplicable reason. Stares at the space between the two of them, negligible. “I’m here.”

~~~~

The news gets relayed through the group chat that one of their schedules has been delayed and will have to be rescheduled for tomorrow. Hyunjin sprints to their bedroom before Seungmin can shuffle over to where his phone is charging to check the notification. His socked feet glide across the floor as Hyunjin comes to a stop before Seungmin, changing out of his pajamas and into actual clothes.

“Pick something warmer,” Hyunjin instructs, reaching past to grab one of Seungmin’s hoodies that might as well be his since Hyunjin borrows it so often. “It’s a little chilly outside.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow but reaches for a sweater. “I thought our interview got cancelled?”

“It was, which is why we’re going on a date today. Since it’s been way too long since the last time.”

Seungmin hums thoughtfully, thinking back. “When was that? Before Side Effects, right?” They’re already starting preparations for a pre-release with Double Knot, to be followed up with an album around December and plenty of things to do in between. Free time has been pretty tight since Div 1 greenlighted plans for a bunch of comebacks back to back to back.

“Like I said, way too long.”

The two of them get dressed and ready in short order. Seungmin is reaching up on his tiptoes to grab the spare blanket from the hallway closet when Felix spots them on his way to the kitchen. “Oh? Are you two heading out?”

“Just here and there,” Hyunjin replies rather shiftily, hand on the doorknob and beckoning for Seungmin to hurry along. He roots around blindly on the top shelf until he feels the woven fabric brushing against his fingertips and pulls, careful not to dislodge anything else that might have been shoved up there since the last time Seungmin checked .

Felix asks, “What are you being so secretive for? It makes me tail you and find out.”

Jeongin cuts in from where he’s perched playing video games on Chan’s laptop again. “Don’t bother,” he snorts, furiously clicking at a spot for his character to correspondingly move to on screen. “Unless you’re okay with third-wheeling the entire time.”

Something like comprehension seems to flood Felix’s face. He shrugs. “Oh. Well in that case, never mind.”

“Um, why the tone of disgust?” Seungmin feels vaguely insulted by whatever hidden context everyone has that he’s not privy to. Hyunjin included, judging from the way he’s fidgeting like mad.

Jeongin looks up and makes eye contact with the two of them briefly, witheringly, before returning full attention back to his virtual raid. “Because you and Hyunjin-hyung are disgusting, that’s why.”

Felix nods in agreement. “Have fun!” He turns to address Hyunjin with a wink.

Seungmin quickly refolds the blanket and tucks it into his backpack. He turns around to leave.

“What was that about?” he asks Hyunjin, who all but pushes him through the door. His hands feel startlingly warm—warmer than usual for someone who already runs hot—against Seungmin’s back. “Hyunjin, are you feeling okay? You’re looking kinda peaked right now.”

He flattens his palm and presses it against Hyunjin’s forehead as they’re waiting for the elevator – warm as well. His whole face is beet red.

The older boy coughs to clear his throat, pushing away Seungmin’s hand. “I’m fine!” he squeaks. “Probably from being over-bundled and still indoors, I guess.”

Seungmin gives the other boy a more discerning once over, taking in the shifty way Hyunjin can’t meet his gaze, but ultimately decides to let the matter slide. “Alright.”

Outside, the temperatures are pretty mild save for the occasional wind that nips at noses rather than outright bites. The sun helps a lot in that regard.

The walk to the train station is a familiar one; a habit bordering on ritualistic, considering that they make enough money to afford taking a taxi everywhere nowadays. Still, it’s nice to stretch their legs sometimes. And the closer they get to the station, the more settled Hyunjin seems.

At no point does Seungmin confirm their destination. He already knows.

Their fans are constantly clamoring for a Han River date part two, but the truth of the matter is he and Hyunjin go on Han River dates all the time. It’s just a habit they’ve fallen into, taking Line 2 to Hapjeong and walking around until they reach a spot with fewer people and a pretty view. Once or twice a month, sometimes more depending on their schedules and if the weather is nice. They go even when the weather isn’t, braving the elements to sit inside at a nearby café or warm up with convenience store coffee at a CU or GS25 along the river.

It would be easy enough to give their managers a heads-up and fire up the V Live app when they arrive and get settled, but the more times they go, the more reticent Seungmin becomes about sharing this aspect of their relationship with their fans. Hyunjin probably feels much the same way, very rarely sharing the photos he takes of the sunset when they catch it, or of Seungmin laying back and humming songs in the grass, or even just selcas of himself with five fingers splayed to artfully shade his eyes and face.

“Well?” Seungmin asks, stock still as Hyunjin tries to photograph the butterfly that’s landed fortuitously on Seungmin’s shoulder. “Are these good enough to post?” He barely moves his mouth when asking the question for fear of scaring the swallowtail away.

“Maybe,” Hyunjin hums, playing along. Their ongoing joke is that it’s because there’s always some aspect of the photo that throws off the overall aesthetic, excuses like ‘my thumb was in the corner’ or, taking a page from Jeongin’s book, “Your ugly mug is in it.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yes. Unfortunate, indeed.”

The butterfly takes off with the next passing breeze and brushes past Hyunjin’s cheek, like it’s giving him a parting kiss. Seungmin checks the time. “Did you want to get dinner somewhere or just order something when we get back?”

“Hmmm,” the older boy contemplates the question while smiling down at his phone, swiping through the photos, and favoriting the ones he likes best. “Did you want to try that new pasta place Yejii was talking about?”

“Oh, are we close?”

Hyunjin nods. “They opened up a second location somewhere in this neighborhood, I’m pretty sure. Hold on, let me map it first.”

The restaurant ends up being a 15 minute walk away. Hyunjin is accustomed to keeping pace with Seungmin’s shorter strides and navigates them through a series of backstreet alleyways to get there to avoid taking the main streets. It’s out of an abundance of caution, unnecessary when they still don’t get recognized or stopped all too often even after filming a whole reality show and being a few months post-debut. The realities of nugudom, Minho often jokes.

They’re careful to be careful anyways, despite not doing anything or going anywhere illicit, even if it sometimes feels that way when the back of their hands brush accidentally and lightning licks its way up Seungmin’s spine. Seungmin has held Hyunjin’s hand hundreds of times, in a multitude of contexts, backstage for support or during horror films when he’s scared, catching Hyunjin when he trips but before he hits the ground, only never like this. Never like lovers.

Seungmin furtively watches the connection between them tremble like a plucked guitar string in the air, a direct response to how Seungmin’s own hand trembles from how desperately he wants to reach out and thread their fingers together.

Another brush, seemingly deliberate this time because Hyunjin’s hand lingers beside him for too long.

Seungmin itches because of it, skin burning hot like a rash. But even with the promise of relief within his grasp, he still doesn’t close what feels like such an insurmountable gap; as wide as the sky, the space between two hands.

What does Hyunjin want? He wonders this all the time, lies awake with it; concerns himself over the inconsequential things and the big, overarching questions as well. Seungmin can’t be sure of anything. Most days, he’s paralyzed by by how much he doesn’t know, dissatisfied with his progress but not sure how best to proceed. After all this time, Seungmin’s still standing at the starting line by himself.

Passively he waits, passively he wonders, and passively he wants.

More than anything, Seungmin wants to be Hyunjin’s choice.

They slip into a particularly narrow passage, shoulders all but scraping against the sides of buildings and sanded, cement walls. A delivery driver rounds the corner ahead of them, breaking to a stop and inching forward using both legs to better maneuver the tight space. Hyunjin holds out an arm and sweeps Seungmin behind him so that the scooter and its driver can pass. He drops the limb to firmly clasp palms, fingers slotting into the crevices between Seungmin’s own.

“Watch out,” he says, even though they’re the only two people left in the alleyway anymore.

“My knight in shining armor,” Seungmin croaks, heart leaping up to his throat, and competing against the lump of his Adam’s apple working to swallow past the sudden intrusion. Fundamentally, the mechanics are the same as every other time they’ve held hands, but Seungmin feels nervous nonetheless.

Hyunjin doesn’t let go, not until they reach the end of the alleyway, disentangling finger by finger, until they’re linking pinkies while crossing the length of a playground, and then the connection is lost. Still, the heat of it is seared into the lines and grooves of Seungmin’s hands, warm throughout dinner when they split a plate of rose pasta and talk about nothing for hours, until they’re kicked out at closing time and Hyunjin holds his hand again throughout the taxi ride home, without the pretense of caution, doing it just because.

A shift occurs between them that night. A turn towards something delicate, like threads of a spider web, silk-spun beneath the moonlight, with hunger woven in as well. Hands woven into Seungmin’s hair, pillowy lips whispering, “Can I?” and then another pair, “Yes.”

~~~~

They don’t do much more that night than play tonsil hockey in a dark, shadowy corner outside of their apartment complex. A stray cat jumps onto and upsets the lid of a nearby trash can and the sound of it jolts them apart, reminding Seungmin of how reckless he’s being, doing this out in the open for anyone to stumble upon and see. Hyunjin looks equally reproached, color working its way to the high points of his cheeks, although that could just as easily have been a result of their heated make out session earlier. They scurry into the building and into their dorm without another word.

They don’t speak about the kiss in the days and weeks that follow, afraid of crossing some invisible line or upsetting whatever precarious balance exists between the two of them.

They also don’t stop kissing, slipping out one after the other from waiting rooms at music broadcasts to meet each other in low-trafficked stairwells and supply closets, at night when everyone except Chan is asleep, tip-toeing into the bathroom and pushing Hyunjin against the shower. Hands and lips and teeth and tongue. Bare skin beneath Seungmin’s palm and rolled between his incisors, capillaries bursting beneath the suction of his mouth, hickeys in places that their stage fits can hide.

They don’t talk about those kisses, either. Maybe to prolong the fantasy, suspending themselves in the safety of limbo, in some nebulous in-between.

The transition from friendship into more—a relationship thus undefined—is already scary enough, without adding the fact that they’re roommates and coworkers and idols on top of that. What if it doesn’t work out? Seungmin figures it’s easier to bounce back from being friends with benefits than trying and failing, to be seriously considered but ultimately turned down.

So until Hyunjin figures out what he wants, Seungmin is willing to take what he can get, without realizing that there will come a day when he can’t get enough.

They lose their virginity to each other in a hotel room in New York.

Seungmin knows it’s going to happen before it happens.

They do a couple of interviews and recordings in the morning after they land stateside, but are released to enjoy some leisure time before the concert tomorrow night. Hyunjin craftily dodges invitations from the other members, scheming so that he and Seungmin end up alone together. Without any concrete plans, they spend the majority of the evening wandering the streets of Manhattan, taking pictures, and getting lost in the crowds that weave their way around the city.

Everything seems normal at first, Hyunjin laughing and chattering as usual. In their explorations, he takes to occasionally skipping ahead only to whip around when he’s a block or two away, smiling as he waits for Seungmin to catch up. They sit and people watch for a while around late afternoon, sharing an ice cream cone that Seungmin orders from a truck outside Central Park. The switch in behavior occurs when he tips the cone towards Hyunjin and instead of having it be taken from his hold, he feels the soft drag of a tongue across his knuckles, Hyunjin’s hand elevating his wrist to lap at the melted vanilla dripping down.

Hyunjin looks up at him from beneath his lashes, making prolonged eye contact as he does it, and Seungmin actually gulps.

He blushes and deflects from his embarrassment by admonishing the older boy. “Hyunjin, that’s unsanitary.”

“There are worse ways to go,” he grins, tongue swiping across his plushy, bottom lip. “And anyways, you’re probably the cleanest person I know. I bet your body just naturally repels germs.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Hey!” Hyunjin bumps shoulders with him with faux outrage.

The tension from earlier saps considerably but does not completely disappear. A sense of inevitably looms above them, coloring every touch and caress after that.

Dinner time arrives and they’re ordering steaks at a restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen, somewhere quiet and tucked away; and their waiter busts out a candlestick from somewhere in the back, just for them, because even he senses something in the air between the two of them, charging up like static electricity as the night drags on.

Seungmin’s suspicions are confirmed when they get back to the hotel around nine and Hyunjin slips the Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle outside.

“Hyunjin?” he asks, barely able to get the syllables out before Hyunjin’s upon him, clawing at all the body parts he can reach without looking, Seungmin’s neck and shoulders mainly, lips insistent and licking at the seam of Seungmin’s mouth.

“Hyunjin–”

“I’ve been thinking about doing this for a while now. Imagining it. Imagining you.” The older boy makes quick work of the buttons on Seungmin’s shirt, one hand hooking around Seungmin’s rib cage and waist. “How you would feel. How you would sound. Ever since they decided to let us pick our roommates on tour.”

“Me, too,” Seungmin admits rather breathily, because it’s true. They don’t get many opportunities like this to be alone and with walls thick enough to feel like it, too. Even when Felix is out at the nearby PC bang playing video games and they have the room to themselves, Seungmin operates at a baseline level of anxiety around the other members bursting in unannounced or someone overhearing something they shouldn’t. Although at this point, the members would have to be deaf, blind, and stupid not to suspect something going on with him and Hyunjin, even if they’re unable to produce any proof.

Hyunjin crowds him. Seungmin feels the back of his knees hit the bed, barely able to kick off his shoes before Hyunjin pushes him and Seungmin’s on his back staring up at the ceiling and then into Hyunjin’s dark, dilated eyes. Pupils blown out, so big Seungmin can almost make out the hazy reflection of his own face staring back.

Hyunjin’s touching him all over, frenzied, hands roaming. The rest of their clothing items soon join Seungmin’s trainers and Hyunjins’s track jacket in a heap on the ground. Overeagerly, they kiss, like they have many times before, but there’s a nervousness now as well.

“Jinnie,” he gasps, the nickname slipping out. “I’ve never–”

“Me neither.” Hyunjin traces the sweat gathering between Seungmin’s brow down his nose bridge, before once again capturing his lips. Seungmin writhes when Hyunjin’s hands start wandering and making their way south, kneading at the flesh of Seungmin’s sensitive inner thighs. “I’m glad that you’re my first.”

I want to be your only. He doesn’t say this out loud.

Hyunjin grips him tentatively. Seungmin keens beneath the touch.

“Can I?” he asks, because he always asks. Like Seungmin has ever turned him down before. Like he even has the ability to.

“Yes. Yes.”

The sex that follows is clumsy and there’s too much teeth and everything is so dry, skin on skin like two matchsticks striking together, so much friction but some of it is good, some of it lights a fire somewhere deep inside his gut, and threatens to burn Seungmin from the inside-out.

And then he hears Hyunjin moaning low and guttural in his ear, his name followed by a curse word, when Seungmin squeezes with just the right amount of force. The sound of it launches Seungmin into another plane of existence, chasing a high he’s rarely achieved on his own; with Hyunjin above him, pinning him, their sweat-slicked limbs entangled. When Seungmin comes, it’s with stars bursting behind his eyelids and inside of his veins, and Hyunjin collapsing beside him in bed, tipping over into ecstasy as well.

The red thread between them pulsates like a heartbeat and then goes still.

After they’ve cleaned up but before going to bed, he turns and sucks a purpling mark onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, needing something to do to occupy his mouth before the words I love you can come spilling out.

~~~~

All things considered, the arrangement he and Hyunjin have going on where they fuck and don’t talk about what it means goes better than expected. After that first night, they stick to being roommates for the duration of the tour, a decision made less suspicious when everyone else opts to keep the arrangement the same, too.

This results in a lot of sex, which is to be expected of two teenage boys for whom privacy is a luxury, but it’s not all sloppy and hormone-driven like the first time or even the second, a few hours later when Seungmin wakes up at 3 AM with Hyunjin’s dick pressed against his back. Sometimes, it’s languid hand jobs in the morning or careful explorations with the lights turned off; moments when it feels like something so much more than two bodies in a bed (and occasionally, a shower). Moments when it feels like making love.

Sometimes, Seungmin will extricate himself afterwards to sleep on his own, ostensibly to maintain some illusion of distance, only for Hyunjin to crawl in beside him beneath the covers when he thinks Seungmin’s asleep. The fact that Seungmin never says anything about it in the morning serves as further incentive for Hyunjin to keep doing it, although he can see the question in the older boy's face as to why Seungmin bothers leaving in the first place.

It’s not as if Hyunjin ever asks him to stay.

“If I hear so much as a rustle of clothing,” Minho warns when they drop their stuff off in their room after the tour is cut short. “I’m going home to Gimpo for tonight so get whatever it is you need out of your system. I refuse to be sexiled after this.”

Seungmin says, “You don’t have to. We won’t do anything if you’re around.” Which is the first time he’s even alluded to the fact that he and Hyunjin are sleeping together with anyone other than Jeongin, who only knows because he once caught them in the act, dollar bill burning a hole in his pocket when he rounds the corner and sees the two of them getting handsy in front of the vending machine.

“And put up with Hyunjin giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes while I’m in here, trying to relax?”

“Just ignore him then. You’re pretty good at that”

Minho aims a plush toy at him from somewhere in the depths of his bottom bunk cave, but the throw badly misses the mark. “How long are you two going to keep this up?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies through his teeth.

“Don’t play dumb.”

Seungmin sighs and starts unpacking his things, back turned so that the older boy can’t see the ugly, twisted expression his face adopts and read into it more than he should. “It’s just sex, hyung. It’ll last as long as it serves a purpose and then it’ll end cleanly. No strings attached.”

“The intention behind telling a joke is laughter. I’m not laughing, Kim Seungmin.

Seungmin mumbles, “It wasn’t supposed to be a joke.”

He hears the mattress springs creak under Minho’s weight, shifting as the older boy scoots to the edge of the bed in preparation to get up and smack the back of Seungmin’s head. “You two are soulmates. Of course there are strings attached. A red one, to be exact. Decreed by Fate or whatever powers that be?”

He shuffles over to the dresser to put his clothes away and feels Minho’s eyes tracking him the entire way. “Hyunjin doesn’t see the connection like we can.”

“So? That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“You know that soulmates come in all kinds of different forms. It doesn’t have to be romantic.”

“Except you’re already in love with him, so that’s kind of a moot point.”

Seungmin feels raw beneath Minho’s dissecting gaze, like an egg cracked open and running on a blacktop beneath the sun. His throat closes up. “What if he doesn’t love me back and I lose him? I can’t lose my soulmate, hyung. I can’t lose my other half.”

Minho is not the uncaring, unfeeling, and unsympathetic person people sometimes make him out to be. He visibly softens around the edges at Seungmin’s obvious distress. His voice is gentle, but Minho’s conviction is firm. “What if you keep doing what you’re doing, which is nothing, and end up losing him anyway?”

~~~~

The first domino to fall happens when Seungmin and Felix are out to dinner, nostalgia leading them to a hole in the wall restaurant over by the old JYPE building where they used to share meals as trainees, usually because Seungmin put his foot down after practices whenever Felix admits to planning on eating a convenience store dosirak for the seventh time that week.

“Gosh, it’s been a while since we last came here,” Felix muses after the owner greets them warmly and seats them at a table in the back. They remove their hats and masks and settle into well-loved leather seats that used to conform to the shapes of their ass.

He moves the table so that it’s no longer pushed flush against the wall. “They didn’t even cover up Changbin-hyung’s graffiti.” He fondly grazes the heart labeled 3RACHA, complete with flames and what’s supposed to be Cupid’s arrow sticking out the side except looks more like an penis than anything else. He remembers the rapper choking on his kimbap at the time, coughing up grains of rice and gearing up to grumble, when Seungmin pointed it out.

“Do you miss it?” Felix asks. “Trainee life?”

Coming from anyone else, Seungmin would consider it a rhetorical question. Being a trainee was hell. But coming from someone who looks at everything with so much sincerity and treasures every moment as if it were his last, Felix probably holds no small amount of fondness for those days.

“Maybe I miss how simple things used to be.”

“What do you mean?”

Seungmin pours himself and Felix a cup of water to give himself time to think through and gather his thoughts. “Back then, all anyone was really worried about was making it to the big leagues. You had a dream and you worked for it, running towards it with everything you had. Single-mindedly and full-steam ahead. Now there’s so many other things to consider. Not just about making music and performing, but about our public image and the weird, hidden politics behind being an idol. Maximizing profits, being careful about what I share. Those kinds of things.”

“Sorry to hear that you’ve lost your rookie heart.”

He laughs and then clicks his chopsticks at Felix in mock reproach. “What about you, Yongboks?”

The blonde purses his lips and considers the question. Their food arrives by the time he’s ready to answer, kalguksu for Felix and kimchi stew for Seungmin. “A lot, actually. You know, I used to pray every night before bed for things to get easier. To stop feeling like I crash-landed on an alien planet on my own. Now I think I miss when everything used to feel so new.”

“I hope you don’t feel like you’re alone anymore,” Seungmin murmurs.

“Why would I when I have you?” Felix smiles brighter than if you could bottle up sunbeams. “I have Stays and the other members. I have so much love in my life.”

“You deserve as much.”

Felix catches his eye from across the table. “You too, Seungminnie. You deserve love, too.”

There’s no other meaning to the words. Guileless, as always. And yet it stabs at and constricts some chamber in Seungmin’s heart. He feels in danger of bleeding out.

The second domino falls when Felix says, “Let’s go watch a movie or something after this. I don’t wanna come home to Hyunjin and Jisung making out.”

His hand stills from where he’s scooping out a spoonful of rice. Seungmin swallows around nothing. “Sorry, what?”

Felix gestures at his phone. “Sungie asked me where Hyunjin was because they needed to talk and I told him that he’s at home right now.”

Seungmin is barely able to sort through the myriad of thoughts the declaration conjures up in his brain in real time. His head is spinning. “So why would you think they’d be making out?”

The blonde simply shrugs. “They were kissing the other day.” And then, Seungmin figures there must be a look akin to heartbreak on his face because Felix backtracks immediately. “Or it could just be a case of Jisung being Jisung and planting one on him to be annoying, you know? And I happened to walk in at the wrong time and saw them from the wrong angle, and maybe they separated immediately and Hyunjin yelled at him to stop being gross. I ran out of the room too fast to see. It could be nothing, Seungminnie.”

The same way he and Hyunjin are nothing.

Seungmin gives up on finishing the rice. He suddenly doesn’t feel very hungry anymore. He’s not sure he could keep anything down, even if he was. “It’s fine, Bokie. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Felix doesn’t look too convinced.

“What movies are playing tonight?” He hopes there’s something sad. A tragedy of some kind.

“Let’s just go home.”

“I don’t,” Seungmin starts and falters, staring down at the string looped twice around his pinky. There’s a steady pressure building behind his tear ducts, pushing against his nasal cavity and making it harder to breathe. Seungmin doesn’t want to cry, at least not before the film starts and everyone else is crying around him. Seungmin doesn’t want to cry alone. Seungmin doesn’t want people to think, outside of the theater, he has a reason to cry at all. “Let’s go watch a movie. I don’t want to think about anything right now.”

The third domino falls when a week passes and Hyunjin doesn’t talk about his kiss with Jisung, either.

~~~~

One by one, they all fall down.

~~~~

Seungmin is a logical person. He’s a Virgo. It’s kind of a given for him.

So objectively, Seungmin knows he doesn’t have a legitimate reason to be upset with Hyunjin. They didn’t agree on exclusivity, nor was it ever brought up, and it’s Seungmin’s fault for assuming. Hurt aside, when he thinks about it, it’s unreasonable to have expected exclusivity when they’re both rich and famous and in the prime of their youth. Seungmin not being interested in exploring other options doesn’t preclude Hyunjin from doing or feeling the opposite.

Just because Seungmin’s in love with his soulmate doesn’t necessitate Hyunjin having to feel the same way.

He contemplates this while pouring over the contents of his diary, a cut and dry recount of his daily schedules compared to the tumultuous landscape that is his heart and mind. Out of habit, Seungmin doesn’t leave behind any trace or make any hints towards his ability to see the strings, which means he doesn’t really talk about Hyunjin a lot since the two go hand in hand and Seungmin is terrified of slipping up. Upon further reflection, maybe that’s just another way Seungmin manages to avoid confronting the truth: that he’s scared of his own soulmate and of the power Hyunjin holds.

The power that Seungmin gives him.

Hyunjin slips into the room, locking the door behind him before he shuffles over and leans down to place a kiss on Seungmin’s shoulder. He texted Hyunjin earlier that Minho was sleeping over in Jisung’s room tonight, conveniently leaving out the part about there being a little bit of bribery involved and reassurance the older boy isn’t being sexiled, at least not this time.

“Wrapping up for the day?” Hyunjin asks, this time ghosting his lips over the base of Seungmins neck, face in the crook of it as Hyunjin’s hands slide sensually down the front of Seungmin’s chest.

He smells so much like Seungmin’s body wash, the one he claims he isn’t borrowing and yet Seungmin keeps having to repurchase new bottles at twice his usual rate; fresh from the shower, skin still pink and warm from the steam. Ready for bed or ready to be bedded. Honestly, Hyunjin is probably aiming for both.

Seungmin thinks about giving in, about letting go and moving on because it’s okay if Hyunjin doesn’t feel the same way. Seungmin’s just grateful to have Hyunjin in his life, even if it’s just as a friend and the occasional fuck buddy he’s only allowed to kiss in the dark. To him, Hyunjin is his teammate and secret keeper and ⅛ of “Step Out! Hello, we are Stray Kids!” and Seungmin’s very best friend—titles that hold just as much weight as ‘soulmate’, that encompass the indispensable person Hyunjin’s become in his life, rather than the person to whom Seungmin was arbitrarily assigned.

He cherishes the love he’s felt over years, through all of their hardships and companionship and whole-hearted trust; the love he’s earned and that Hyunjin continues to show him. Because at the end of the day, Hyunjin does love him.

That’s why he thinks he’d be okay with being Hyunjin’s second choice.

“Hyunjin, we need to talk,” he says while pursing his lips.

“Hmm,” Hyunjin murmurs and quickly removes his hands. “The shape of your mouth indicates that you mean serious business, but the fact that you’re not knitting your eyebrows means you’re not necessarily gearing up for a fight.”

Hyunjin is clearly well-versed when it comes to Seungmin’s mannerisms, but that last bit of knowledge he must have picked up second hand. Seungmin laughs despite himself. “Of course not. You know we never fight. I don’t intend on changing that now.”

“Alright then. Let’s talk.”

“Assume the position?” Seungmin jokes, feeling lighter now that he’s come to terms with their link and what it means for him and for them moving forward. Hyunjin nods and the two of them climb into bed, side by side with their backs to the wall, palms clasped together; thighs touching, Hyunjin’s pulse beneath his thumb. The red connection between them shortens, opposite loops separated by a string the length of a fingernail in between.

“What’s this about, Minnie?” Hyunjin asks after more than thirty seconds of hesitation, Seungmin waffling on where to start.

“I wanted to let you know,” he swallows, all of a sudden feeling parched. Hyunjin blinks at him slowly, as if to encourage Seungmin to finish his thought. He takes a deep breath and continues. “That is, I hope you know I wouldn’t be mad . . . if there was someone else. Someone you wanted to be with more than me, or instead of me.”

He feels Hyunjin stiffen in his grasp; observes the downturned corners of Hyunjin’s mouth. “You sound like you already have somebody in mind.”

“I know you kissed Jisung the other day.”

“Jisung was drunk and it was Jisung who kissed me. Not the other way around.”

Seungmin doesn’t mean to sound accusatory when he asks, “Well, did you kiss him back?”

“So what if I did?” Hyunjin steels himself like he’s on the defense.

He gently squeezes Hyunjin’s hand to defuse some of the tension. “I told you already that I wouldn’t be mad. I really don’t mind.”

“I wish you were,” he replies. “But you don’t care. Not enough to fight for me.”

“I care about you! Of course I care about you,” Seungmin protests.

There are tears welling up in Hyunjin’s eyes now, kissing the very edge of his mole. Or maybe it just seems that way because Seungmin can barely make him out through the watery blur of his own. “But you would let me go?”

“If that’s what you wanted,” Seungmin promises.

“Minnie, I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Oh.

His heart soars in his chest. Could it be possible? Is he hearing this right?

Seungmin holds his breath, but it’s not as if he’s really able to breathe.

Hyunjin clarifies, “When Jisung kissed me, I’ll admit that I didn’t immediately pull back. Not because I like him or anything it’s just. I guess I let him because it was nice, for once, to not be the one who reaches out first. The one who always has to make the first move.”

“There were so many times,” Seungmin whispers, voice hoarse, throat constricting around the lump of emotions clawing its way upwards. He can barely form a proper sentence through the rush of euphoria, can barely get out the words past the overwhelming feeling of relief. “I wanted to. With you. All the time, Jinnie.”

“How was I supposed to know? I would lose sleep at night wondering if you were indulging me. ‘Oh nothing, just Hyunjin being clingy again. Better not hurt his feelings by rejecting him outright. He already comes crying to me about everything as it is.’ Ugh, look at me. I’m already crying again!”

He buries his face into Seungmin’s shoulder, salty tears soaking into the collar of his shirt. Instinctively, Seungmin’s other hand finds a familiar home cradling the back of Hyunjin’s head, He presses kisses into the crown of it. “I love you. I love you so much. Always, Jinnie. This whole time.”

“How was I to know?” Hyunjin whimpers.

“We were so stupid. So goddamn stupid. But it doesn’t matter, because I love you. And from now on, I’m never going to let you forget.”

Later, when he presses Hyunjin into the mattress, Seungmin doesn’t hold back; chants Hyunjin’s name and those same three words. Fingers locked, rocking into one another, chasing after the finish line. And when they cross, they will cross it as they have always been and will always be – together.