#jeno soulmate au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnajun · 2 years

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༻¨*:·. atlas cried | ljn

summary | they say your soulmate is your perfect other half—whatever you lack, they have, and whatever they lack, you have. when lee jeno, your academy’s golden boy, approaches you and says you’re his soulmate, you can’t begin to understand how he—rich, gorgeous, never had to work a day in his life—could be the perfect match for you—poor, exhausted, and barely hanging onto the scholarship covering what would be a 65 million won tuition.

genre | high school au (rich boarding school style), soulmate!au, prep!jeno x fem!reader, prep! jaemin & reader (platonic), angst, slow burn, enemies-ish to lovers, kind of academic rivals but in a way that the rivalry is created by other people, im ngl y/n and jeno just don’t like each other, fake dating? au

warnings | did someone say violent academic pressure, heavy isolation, abusive parenting, malicious rumors, everybody is so unhappy, a lot of miscommunication, internalized misogyny, suicide mention (in passing), arson

wc | 24.7k

a/n: hello and welcome to my first long piece ! i hope it's up to your standards :') i'm not sure how i feel about it, as i've never written anything this long so i'm scared there's continuity issues and whatnot. nonetheless, please send me your feedback !! p.s. here is a short playlist comprised of 10 songs i listened to while i wrote this :) p.p.s im sorry for any egregious typos/poorly worded sentences in the last ~9k words, i proofread all of them while i was really tired lol

ft. a few people i made up

i. during the titan war, atlas sided with his fellow titans in battle to defeat the olympians.

THE WIND HOWLED OUTSIDE YOUR DORM BUILDING, rattling the windows of your dorm room and nearly obscuring the study music coming from your speakers. The sky and the wind told of an incoming storm, which made you want to hurry to the cafeteria and get dinner before you were trapped inside. Your homework, however, drowned out the hunger pangs in your stomach and told you that the endless bags of chips hidden under your bed would make a fine dinner.

“You know, they say your soulmate shoulders the weight of the world with you,” your roommate, Suhyeon, sighed, capturing your attention and effectively destroying the deep focus you had on your homework.

“Ok. And?”

She turned over onto her side, a bored expression taking over her face. “Doesn’t that seem scary?”

“I guess?”

“Would you want to share all your problems with someone else? Like, every single one?”

You resisted the urge to strangle her, as well as the urge to remind her that she does not have to keep a top five spot in her class in order to continue going to school. Instead, you spun your desk chair to face her bed, where she lay, staring at your plain white ceiling.

“Want to go get dinner?”

“With this wind? That sounds dreadful,” she replied, looking at you with a bored face. Then, with a sigh, she pushed herself up from the bed and swung her legs over the edge. “I’m not in the mood for another three bags of honey chips.”

To that, you’d have to agree. For the past three-and-a-half days, you and Suhyeon had eaten three bags of chips for dinner, as you were trapped with your head in your textbooks and Suhyeon refused to go to the dining hall without you (according to her, it would look weird to eat alone, and you were her only friend on campus).

“If I had to guess, we’ll be getting a day off tomorrow,” Suhyeon said, swiping her set of keys off her mostly unused desk. You stood up, cringing at the sound of your back cracking as you stretched. Your legs ached from how long you’d been sitting, as well as your back, but that wasn’t nearly as bad as the cramps you felt in your knees. Suhyeon grabbed her coat off the coat hook bolted to your door, slipping it over her uniform and zipping it up promptly.

You shuffled over and did the same, preemptively sliding the hood up so you could begin situating your hair under it. Suhyeon swung the door open and you obediently followed, emerging into the monotonous corridors of the dormitory.

“Are we due for blizzarding?”

“Yes ma’am.” Suhyeon nodded, swinging her arms back and forth as she half-skipped down the hall. “It’s not cold enough today, but, if it storms tonight, I bet we’ll wake up to a classes-have-been-canceled email.”

You sighed, wondering what that would mean for your math exam that you’d been slaving over for the past week and a half. It was the final midterm until you were granted a week off, which you and Suhyeon had excitedly planned to be spent entirely in your bedroom. If there was a snow day, you hoped your teacher would simply postpone it for Friday, rather than move it after the break altogether.

You opened the door to the stairwell, allowing Suhyeon to pass by you and get a head start on the stairs. You quickly followed, wishing you’d done your usual study-stretch schedule today. Your legs nearly gave out as you tried to stay caught up with your roommate, and you were shocked that you managed to make it to the first floor without falling down a flight of stairs.

Another strong gust of wind rattled the building, and you wondered if it was exactly a good idea to make a break for the dining hall.

Suhyeon let out a loud groan, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I hate the second year-dormitory,” she announced, slowing to a stop in front of the first pair of doors to the outside. “Why do the first years have the indoor path to the dining hall? If anything, they should be the ones in the old, rickety dorms.”

“There’s nothing happy about second year, though. If they put all the depressing stuff halfway in, it won’t be as easy to drop out,” you said, taking the chance to run outside the moment the wind let up a bit. Suhyeon followed close behind you, catching up enough to lace an arm around yours as you ran through the school courtyard.

You practically bulldozed into the dining hall as another burst of wind began, which ended up with you and Suhyeon having to push the door closed as if you were trying to move a broken-down car. The door shut with a satisfying lock, leaving you in the entryway room that consisted of four doors and absolutely nothing else.

Suhyeon sighed, pushing through the second set of doors. The moment they opened, you were hit with the strong smell of spaghetti, which made the hunger pangs worsen substantially. Despite the time, the dining hall was mostly empty, save for a few groups who’d opted to spend their after-school time in there and any third years or first years who’d decided they were hungry.

They didn’t have to make a mad dash across campus to arrive without being blown away. In fact, none of them were even wearing any sort of rain gear.

“Oh god,” Suhyeon mumbled as you approached the serving counter, picking up two trays from the stack they had at the edge.

“What?”

“Golden boys are here.”

You looked up from your tray, turning your head to scan the cafeteria. Sure enough, all six of the golden boys—as they were called—sat at a table in the corner of the room, books littered across the table alongside bowls of spaghetti and an enormous amount of garlic bread. They seemed to be having a good time, laughing and making up essentially all the noise that rattled the room. Suhyeon always told you that there were seven of them, but one had the misfortune of taking a transfer year to some “partner school” off in Shanghai this year, and last year he was still a middle schooler.

You thought the seventh boy might’ve been a ghost that you couldn’t see, though.

One of the cafeteria ladies put a hefty bowl of spaghetti on your plate, along with an oddly gourmet-looking piece of garlic bread. There was a self-serve salad bar and dessert bar further down, but you weren’t too interested in having any of it for right now.

“Awe, they’re sitting a few tables down from our usual spot,” Suhyeon mumbled, stopping to grab a bowl of salad. You waited behind her, staring at the distance between their table of madness and your quaint corner. They were sitting adjacent to the window, likely to survey the weather, and your two-person table was situated in a corner between a false wall that separated the eating area from the first-year entrance. There were about six tables, give or take, between you and them.

“We’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re right next to them,” you said, turning towards her. She was finishing up her salad, placing the bowl on her unbalanced tray, and attempting to get it stable with her now-free other hand. You took that as your chance to begin your stroll to the table, with Suhyeon nervously following behind.

For some reason, she did not like the oh-so-famous golden boys. Any time they entered the conversation, she went silent, and always ended up throwing off the momentum of the conversation with her anxiety; when you tried to ask her about it, she always got defensive, saying she has “nothing to do with them” and “doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

You allowed her to take the corner spot, frowning as she shoved herself into the corner and began picking at her food with her fork. You wondered if it was mean to do this when she so obviously had an issue with it, even if she insisted she didn’t.

“We can sit somewhere else…”

“No, you’re right,” Suhyeon cleared her throat, shaking her head. “It’s not like we’re right next to them. I’ll be fine.”

You took another look at her hidden in the corner, recognizing that she was not going to be fine, but you didn’t push any further. If you had to guess, the last thing she wanted to do was have you make a big deal about her discomfort.

You both ate quietly and quickly, hoping to finish before the oncoming storm hit. Due to the lack of conversation between you two, courtesy of the golden boys being twenty-ish feet away, it wasn’t hard to get through nearly the entire meal within a few seconds.

Your silence also made it quite easy to hear what the golden boys were talking about at their table, added to how easy it was to see them from the corner of your eye.

“I heard Nayeong say we’re getting tomorrow and Friday off,” Zhong Chenle reported, taking a long drink of his water. “They’re just waiting to make it look like it was a last-minute decision.”

“Wow, student council president certified? Must be true, then,” Na Jaemin replied, turning to Lee Donghyuck, who was dejectedly scrolling through his phone. If you had to guess, he’d struggled with the English exam that had taken place earlier that day, seeing as he was notoriously good at Japanese and nothing else. “What's gonna happen with the big math midterm tomorrow, then? I don’t want it to be after break, I’d seriously rather die.”

Donghyuck barely glanced up from his phone before answering. “Rumor has it they’re gonna proctor it in the dorm study rooms. Separate everyone into time slots and stuff. They’re doing it for the third and first years, too.”

Chenle groaned, letting his head dangle on the edge of his chair. Mark Lee, student council vice president and perhaps the second most adored student in the school, didn’t comment on their rumor-spreading. You expected him to be the one they relied on most for information, but

You raised your head slowly, looking over at their table. Mark Lee didn’t comment because he was staring straight at you.

Suhyeon noticed your staring, following your eyesight towards Mark, who was now staring lasers through your head. She dropped her chopsticks into the mostly empty bowl, standing up from her chair suddenly. The movement, along with the clattering of metal, scared you, causing you to snap your head back towards her.

“I don’t feel good.”

Her face was turning pale and her eyes began to water, which was considerably uncharacteristic for her. You looked up at her, glancing down at your half-finished spaghetti and garlic bread. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Can we go back to the dorms, now?” she asked, placing a hand on her chest. “I feel really nauseous.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, standing up. “We can just leave the plates. Let’s go.”

You glanced over at the golden boys’ table, which had gone quiet. Mark was whispering something to Lee Jeno, who was also staring at you now, arms crossed over his chest and blonde hair (when he showed up blonde at the beginning of the year, everybody lost it) wisped over his forehead.

Gently, you wrapped a hand around her shoulder, hugging her to your side as you made a swift departure from the cafeteria. You got odd looks from other students, but, for the most part, nobody got in the way of your exit. You emerged straight into the dangerous wind, not stopping despite how much it threatened to blow you away.

Being out of sight of the golden boys took a huge weight off your shoulders, one you didn’t know was there. Sometimes you garnered looks given your well-known scholarship student title, but that was mostly from first years who were shocked that could even happen. As far as you were aware, you had nothing to do with the golden boys—not even something as simple as a group project or anything.

Had you done something wrong? Were your grades slipping? Was there something going on concerning your scholarship? The wave of questions washing out your mind was causing you to feel nauseous; you didn’t want Mark Lee looking at you like that. You didn’t want any one of them looking at you like that.

You practically threw the dormitory’s doors open, dodging past anyone who might’ve been in your way. You couldn’t get Mark Lee’s stare out of your mind, because it was unexplainable, because it was unprompted, because it could mean you’d be kicked out of the academy and sent back to your terrible parents who would berate you for forever, telling you that you’re worthless and no better than your freeloading, addict siblings.

You skid to a stop in front of the dorm’s nursing office, knocking three times and not waiting for a response. You pushed Suhyeon inside, grabbing the dorm keys from her jacket pocket and giving the resident nurse an unnerved look.

“She’s not feeling well,” you explained, giving Suhyeon no time to protest you dropping her off in the nurse’s office. Instead, you practically slammed the door shut, staring at the monotonous wood for a moment more.

Your heart was pounding. Your mind was spinning. You could barely breathe.

Quietly, you turned towards the end of the hall, where the stairwell waited for you to climb it. Suddenly, it occurred to you that there was a slim chance you could be climbing it for the last few times beginning today.

As you approached, you wondered what your siblings would do if you lost the scholarship. They’d laugh at you, sneer, and say “I thought you were supposed to be the perfect child?” They’d watch as your parents struck you, yelled at you for being worthless and nothing better than the rest of them. They’d force you to kneel on rice while they “mourned” the loss of their shot at wealth, asking you why you didn’t sleep around with the student body to try and ensure a husband.

“You’ll never be this pretty again,” they would say. “Who cares about your soulmate? Will a soulmate bring you money? Comfort? Look at what happened to your father and I when we chose each other over wealth. Do you want to be like us?”

You slammed the door of your dorm shut behind you, falling onto your knees. You realized that you’d never turned your study music off, or your lights, or anything before you’d left for the dining hall.

You looked down at your arms, letting yourself hold up your right hand. There, in the very center of your palm, was a code that you’d memorized the moment you began to comprehend it: LJN.

You picked yourself off the floor, suppressing the panic tears that threatened to spill over. Instead, you approached your desk, dropping down onto the chair and shoving your math textbook out of the way. You instead chose to focus on the human biology book, long and heavy, that sat underneath it. Weakly, you flipped through the pages, stopping on the first page of a chapter entitled “Soulmates: Biology’s Biggest Mystery.”

The first paragraph read, “the concept of soulmates has long been a pillar of human society. The existence of a ‘soulmate marking’ has purportedly been around since the beginning of time, but the earliest recordings of it come from ancient Mesopotamian tomes depicting a ‘perfect other half’ that ‘completes the human body.’"

You must’ve tattooed these words on your brain when you were studying, but, even then, you couldn’t help but feel mystified every time you read through it. You never cared too much about the whole soulmate craze, considering you were still a teenager and didn’t need to care about “forever” yet, but there was always a sort of comfort that you found in it. The existence of your soulmate confirmed that you would not be chained to your parents for the rest of your life, and, one day, you’d be able to leave them behind for a better, happier life.

You read on, tracing the words of the chapter with your index finger.

“Around 97% of the population have a set of initials written somewhere on their body, one that they’re born with. Their soulmate will have a marking on the same part of their body with the coinciding set of initials. There have been no instances of these initials changing, even upon the death of one’s soulmate, meaning the connection is entirely permanent.”

There was someone out there who would pull you out of this. You were sure of it.

And, when that happened, your life would truly begin anew.

ii. the titans lost the war, and the olympians banished the titans to tartarus.

From beginning to end, your math midterm was a mess.

Sure enough, classes were canceled, but they proceeded with finishing things up before your week-long break began and all information previously learned left your mind. You’d been placed in a 3:30 time slot to take your exam, along with about 15 of your classmates, in the dormitory study room that you’d never once step foot into.

Upon arrival at 3:10, you were faced with the sad truth that both Huang Renjun and Lee Jeno were also in your time slot. Initially, you avoided their gaze, shrinking into the corner of the lounge and hiding behind your phone and wired earbuds. But, you were learning the world would never be kind to you because, the moment Lee Donghyuck emerged from the 1:30 time slot, he had a perfect view of you.

You subconsciously tried to hide once more, hunching down and allowing for your hair to fall over your face. You increased the volume of your music, a random, synthy song you’d fallen in love with some time last week, and tried to ignore how Lee Donghyuck’s gaze made you feel like an internationally wanted criminal.

Once they took note of you, the staring did not cease. Lee Donghyuck left for his dorm while you waited for your proctor to announce things were ready (which happened about a minute and a half after Donghyuck left).

You ripped your earbud out when you saw her appear out of the corner of your eye, jerking up to look at her and wishing your heart would stop beating so fast. “There’s assigned seating, which I will call out now. When you hear your name, please sit behind the person last called. If that person is sitting in the very back, please begin the next row in the front.”

Huang Renjun was called third, which took a small weight off your shoulders. That didn’t stop Jeno from looking at you, stealing glances and sometimes blatantly staring with those terrifyingly cold eyes of his.

“[First] [Last].”

You nearly tripped over your feet getting up, leaving your small bag along with your cell phone and earbuds on the chair you sat waiting on. You held your pen and pencil so tightly in your hand that your knuckles were pale, and you must’ve looked sick to the proctor, given the look she offered you as you passed beside her.

Your eyes narrowed in on the empty seat behind the last girl that was called—the student council secretary, Yeji—and you swiftly approached, half-returning the smile Yeji gave as you walked past.

Huang Renjun was one seat behind you and two rows over, meaning he would barely be able to see you. If you were lucky, Jeno would be the first to start his row, meaning he would be in front of you and therefore it would be impossible for him to look at you.

You weren’t sure why you still relied on luck when pretty much all of it was wasted when you got into this godforsaken school on a scholarship.

The proctor called an Osaki Shotaro, who came and took the seat behind you. Then, a Kim Juyeon who began the next row. Then, a Liu Yangyang who sat next to you.

“Lee Jeno.”

You could’ve shot yourself right then and there, especially as he sauntered over to the seat, dropping into it and immediately beginning to spin his pencil around his fingers. You could practically feel his stare like lasers being shot through the back of your head, unending and unwavering as the proctor called the final girl and shut the door behind her.

“Thank you for arriving smoothly and on time.”

You wished you would have skipped. Skipping might’ve cost you your scholarship and your future, but, if you got Suhyeon on your side and claimed you’d woken up severely ill but couldn’t make it to the nurse because Suhyeon had the 10:30 time slot and you woke up at 11, you might’ve been able to make it to the makeup date.

If only God had been kind enough to warn you about this one.

The proctor began to hand out your answer sheets and tests while droning on and on about rules, her words going in and out of your ears like the pointless documentaries your history teacher enjoyed showing. As if you hadn’t taken five of these exams already, she regurgitated these rules, causing your mind to spin more and your leg to bounce harder.

“You may begin.”

You barely began at all. For the entire test, your mind wasn’t focused on derivatives or any sort of equation you’d spent weeks memorizing—no, your mind was focused on Lee Jeno, Mark Lee, all the golden boys, and why they were suddenly so focused on you. You wrote down numbers and letters, plus signs and square roots, all while thinking about what they could want from you.

With every page flip, with every boxed answer and filled-in bubble, your mind fell deeper and deeper into your panicked trance. At some point, you began writing on autopilot with no mental capacity to tell whether or not what you wrote was correct. A part of you wondered why you cared so much when you were obviously about to become the first-ever scholarship student at the academy to lose their scholarship, to be the first investment that brought a net loss instead of a net gain.

Before you knew it, the test was over, and it was 5:15 pm on the dot. You felt like throwing up, a million spiders crawling up your stomach and throat as you stared at what you wholeheartedly believed to be a failed math test. Your mind spun—math had always been your worst subject, and you’d always teetered on the edge with it. As long as you excelled in other subjects, you’d be fine, but there was an absolute need to ensure you did not fall below rank five.

As long as you were never below five, you would be fine.

The proctor snatched your test up from your desk, taking a once over with a smile. “Congratulations on finishing, Ms. [Last],” she said, a formality she’d repeated to everyone but carried a special weight when she spoke to you.

You wanted to reach for it, take it back and run away with the paper. You couldn’t remember a single question you’d answered, let alone whether or not the answers were right. This would be the first (and last) time you’d drop below rank five in your exams, and you’d be packing up your bags when the grades dropped next week. This was the end of your paradise, all thanks to a few awry looks from the academy’s beloved golden boys.

“All papers have been collected. You are free to return to your dorms,” the proctor announced, placing the stack on her desk. You lingered on for a moment, staring at your hands and focusing on the pressure that weighed your shoulders down every waking moment of the day.

Once, Suhyeon was trying to get you to go shopping with her while you were studying. You refused vehemently, citing your grades as the reason why you couldn’t watch her spend thousands upon thousands on clothes she’d never wear while you cringed at every price tag you saw.

With one of her usual, airy sighs, she collapsed onto her bed, mumbling a hollow statement that stuck in your mind: “[First] [Last], forever crushed by the weight of the world.”

Your self wallowing was cut off by Lee Jeno stopping in front of your desk, looking down at you with his terrible cold stare. You returned his focus, fighting off the urge to curl into yourself and tell him to never speak to you again.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets. “I’ll meet you in the library at 8.”

You gave him a look that could only be described as confusion, tilting your head at the notion.

“The library closes at 5 tonight.”

“Does that matter to me?”

He scoffed a bit, not paying you another second. Instead, he sauntered off with Huang Renjun, who gave him a steady slap on the shoulder as he walked out. Renjun followed behind, saying, “You’ve got guts now, huh?” while continuing to hammer on his shoulder and laugh at his “guts.” All you could do was slowly lift yourself from your desk chair, thinking about what you would do upon your return to Jinhae-gu. What your ex-classmates, who’d screamed and cried with you when you received your scholarship notice in the middle of the school day, would say when you walked in, a husk of your former self.

What you’d do when you saw your parents and siblings again.

“Ms. [Last], now that exams are over for second years, I suggest you stop by Miss Choi’s office as soon as possible. I know how much pressure you’re under to retain such perfect grades,” the proctor said, causing you to be torn away from your mind once again.

You smiled weakly at her, nodding. “I will, ma’am. Thank you for your concern.”

“It’s no issue, sweetheart,” she said, dropping a hand onto your shoulder. “We all want to see you succeed.”

You bowed at her as a way to get her to stop touching you, rushing out of the classroom. You’d rather die than go see Miss Choi, who picked you apart too easily in your opinion. You didn’t like the way she seemed to know how you were feeling, how she tried to teach you how to carry the world, because Miss Choi—an alma mater of the academy by paid tuition and not by scholarship—would never know what this felt like, even if she followed you around for three months straight.

With your bag retrieved, you began your march up the stairwell, a new anger brewing in your heart. When you were gone, when there was a lack of honor student to bring up in the interviews and magazine features, when you worked up the nerve to post a forum piece on how the academy destroyed any bit of happiness you had, they’d understand that this wasn’t just academic pressure.

Suhyeon was right—you were forever crushed by the weight of the world because nobody else here wanted to carry their weight and believed there was no one better suited to pick it up other than you.

iii. tartarus was a deep abyss used as a prison for the titan gods,

“You can’t go out right now, the weather is too awful,” Suhyeon insisted, scrambling to reach for your keys. You grabbed them before her, dropping them in the pocket of the jacket you’d draped over your lounge clothes. “It’s dark and the snow is barreling down, [First]. Where could you possibly go right now?”

You bit your lip, staring down at her. She was dressed in her pajamas, practically ready for bed by this point, with a matching Hello Kitty pajama set and a headband pulling her hair away from her face. A pair of glasses sat low on the bridge of her nose, sliding down further the more she tried to discourage you from leaving.

“I just want to take a walk. It stopped snowing a while ago, so there’s no barreling down happening, and I have my snow boots on. Everything should be fine,” you insisted, slipping your gloves on. Suhyeon went to stand in front of the door, blocking your exit to the outside and further delaying your meet-up with Mr. Perfect.

“Promise you’ll be back before room checks.”

You sighed. If whatever Lee Jeno needed to speak to you about was important, he must’ve put something in place to ensure you wouldn’t get in trouble for missing room checks, but you couldn’t be sure. You nodded, waving her out of the way.

“I’ll be back before room checks. Swear on it.”

Uncomfortably, Suhyeon stepped away from the door, allowing you to pass without a word. You slipped out of your room, giving her one last glance before you shut the door behind you and isolated yourself in the dorm corridor. It was cold—everything was cold—and dark, with dim LEDs illuminating the hall floors and nothing else providing any sort of light. It was akin to that of a movie theater's stairs—just lit up enough that you could make it down the stairs without plunging to your doom.

You made your way to the stairwell, cringing as your shoes clicked against the wood of the stairs. You hoped that Jeno had done anything to protect you from the wrath of the late night staff, but you wondered if getting caught meant anything when you’d be gone in a week.

The dorm’s common area (or, more simply, the first floor) was completely devoid of everyone, as aligned with the school rules, which said no students should be out of their rooms past 7:30 on a weekday to avoid issues with student health or student safety. Room checks began at 9, which essentially meant you could be out and about until then, but nobody wanted their parents finding out they were screwing around instead of studying.

You took no time in crossing the common room, weaving through tables and couches in hopes that a teacher didn’t appear and tell you to get back to your room before this “hurt your future,” as they liked to tell you. When the doors to the dorm opened, you could’ve sworn you felt your heart drop into your feet—but, the doors opening did not yield a teacher or any staff member.

It yielded Na Jaemin.

Upon seeing you, he gave you a cordial smile and a nod. Jaemin was Lee Jeno’s second-in-command, his beginning and his end. From what you’d heard from classmates, they’d grown up together, being neighbors from the day they were born and being friends from the day they could speak. You barely saw one without the other, and you couldn’t lie when you said part of you was expecting Jaemin would be in the library along with Jeno tonight.

“Good evening, [First],” he greeted. You offered him an uncomfortable nod back, accompanied by an unsure smile and your shaking hands. “Library’s unlocked.”

You blinked a couple of times, suddenly clueless as to what he was talking about. Na Jaemin was blinding, from the way he smiled at you to the way he even looked at you.

“Ah, um, thanks,” you said, coming to your senses. “Sleep well, or something.”

Jaemin chuckled, nodding. “You too. Good luck!”

He passed by you without another glance, another word, disappearing into the men’s side of the second-year dorms. You watched his figure retreat for a moment, wondering if you’d run into any other golden boys on your way to the library. You hoped Jaemin was the only one.

As you emerged into the cold, night air, stepping onto the snow and sinking in almost immediately, you now found yourself focused on your brief interaction with Na Jaemin.

A while back, you’d heard that he didn’t have a soulmate.

You were just starting out, and, given the nature of your enrollment at the school, you’d had a slight amount of popularity. People hung around you with the idea that you’d somehow trick them into good study habits and unrivaled intelligence (to be honest, people still do), and that inevitably came with you hearing whatever gossip traveled around your class at the time.

“You know Na Jaemin? The boy who started this year and immediately made it in with Mark Lee’s crowd?” a girl asked you, sliding into your study table at the library. Instantly, she’d caught the attention of the other three students who asked to study with you, drawing them away from the math worksheet you were all working on. “Ah, [First], Mark Lee and his crew have been attending the academy since elementary school, so they kinda own the place. They never let anybody in with them until Na Jaemin.”

Upon hearing that, you’d mostly been impressed that somebody could afford that many years of tuition here, let alone send their child into academic hell from the moment they’d learned to read. Suhyeon hadn’t told you that she’d also lived the same life, yet, so this was your first exposure to what most students called the “originals” of the academy.

“He doesn’t have a soulmate.”

A sort of surprise settled in around the table, given how rare it was to be born soulmate-less. There was a “no way” thrown out, along with a couple of gasps of disbelief. You’d felt bad for him, wondering what it was like to live in a world where (mostly) everybody but you had a universally-fated life partner.

Your tablemates didn’t seem to think similarly to you.

“God, my mother would be overjoyed if I was soulmateless,” one of your classmates, Chaeyeon, hummed, leaning back on her chair and resting her elbow on the back of it. You turned to her, shocked that was her first reaction upon hearing about Na Jaemin’s soulmateless-ness. “He must be the golden child of his family.”

“He’s the youngest, too, so he was inevitably going to be the kid they married off. That’s one less person they’ll need to pay off.”

Na Jaemin, whether the rumor was true or not, was your way of finding out that rich people often trapped their younger children in loveless marriages, and paid off their soulmates to keep them from ever forming a relationship. They’d even had a saying for it: “An accomplished father’s best child is the child who can marry for money with no regrets.”

It horrified you because that was how your parents thought. You couldn’t imagine a life where everybody, not just your parents, thought that way.

As quietly as you could, you pushed the door to the library open, finding yourself in the sprawling lobby you were so acquainted with. Despite the academy being a lower grade school, the library was the kind that you’d find articles on and the kind where people would travel just to see it.

Usually, it was locked to the high heavens when it was closed due to its extensive collection of books no high schooler needed to read, but tonight was different. You wondered if Mark stole the keys from Nayeong and gave them to Jeno.

You shuffled towards the stairs, wondering if Lee Jeno was going to make you search for him. Your heart began pounding in your chest once again, thoughts of expulsion (losing your scholarship wasn’t technical expulsion, but it might as well have been) and disappointing everyone you know with a simple 89 on a math test.

The second floor was completely dark, which was creepier than you wanted it to be. Assuming Jeno wasn’t waiting for you in a pitch-black room, you continued up the stairwell, telling yourself Jeno wasn’t going to inform you of your impending doom despite the fact that he was a student, and that he wasn’t even on the student council.

You couldn’t imagine whatever else he wanted to talk to you about, though. You weren’t in the same sphere, hell, even in the same universe as each other—he hung around the golden boys and nobody else, breaking every rule the school had to offer and using his father’s name as an excuse. You hung out with the kids who lived closer to the bottom (whatever bottom meant at this god-forsaken school), the kids whose grades had a real impact on them rather than the ones who went to school to say they did.

The third floor was also completely dark but gave way to the dim lighting that lit up the fourth floor. For some reason, Lee Jeno had decided to taint your preferred study floor with whatever he had to tell you, but you supposed he had no clue that it was your usual study spot. After all, you were in different universes.

Taking the final few steps up to the fourth floor, you noticed that, while it was illuminated, there was no sign of Jeno anywhere. The lights were on and it was dead silent, with not a single movement or noise to even hint at another person being inside; but, from the way one of the tables had its chairs sprawled about and from the light smell of coffee, you could tell people had been in here recently.

If you had to guess who, it was the rest of the golden boys, given your run-in with Jaemin in the lobby of your dorm. You wondered where the rest of them went, particularly Donghyuck and Renjun, who hadn’t ventured through the lounge of the second-year dorm—hopefully, they weren’t still here, as the emptiness was somewhat calming.

You decided to venture further into the fourth floor, walking past the proof-of-life table and entering the rows upon rows of shelves. The fourth floor was the most academic, being the quietest at any given time. Nobody liked scaling four flights of stairs with the sole purpose of studying, so the only people who did were the ones who wanted to avoid the quiet yet prominent chatter on the lower floors.

And the golden boys apparently, but only past closing.

The silence of the room made your heart slow down to a calmer rate, as well as making any panic you were previously feeling dissipate. You were sure that, the moment you found Jeno, it would resume where it left off, but you were grateful for these few moments of calm before the storm you were about to step into.

You continued walking through the shelves, scanning the book’s spines and their titles as if you hadn’t seen them nearly every day for the past two years. You allowed the tips of your fingers to brush along the many different textures and indents of the well-loved books before you. If you were truly at the end of your time here, you ought to write a love letter to this library, thanking it for the countless hours you spent reading and learning in hopes that you, one day, would be a peer of the people around you and not just a spectacle.

At the edge of the shelves, there was another small clearing of desks and then a couple of couches that most students used to take naps during finals season, and that's where Lee Jeno waited for you. The moment you appeared from the woodwork, he noticed you, staring at you from the corner of his eye.

“I was thinking you weren’t going to come,” he said offhandedly. You furrowed your brows, pulling your phone out of your pocket—it was 8:17. You hadn’t even noticed how slowly you were traveling, seeing as you left your dorm at 8:03.

As you’d expected, your heart had begun beating out of its chest, and you, once again, began to prepare for the worst. You slowly approached the couch adjacent to him, sitting down as slowly as you could. You sat like a board, stiff and nervous, waiting for him to explain himself even in the slightest.

Instead, he leaned over to the coffee table in front of you, pushing a small coffee cup towards you. You stared at it for a second, confused and a bit freaked out, but you picked it up nonetheless, thankful he’d thought to get you something warm. He continued to sit in silence, leaving you with a couple of moments to study him thoroughly.

Before today, you’d never really looked at him. Sure, you’d given him a couple of nervous glances, but there was something about Lee Jeno that made you feel inferior. He was the son of a major CEO, one of the biggest conglomerates in all of Korea (and maybe even Asia), somebody you would’ve never even dreamed of meeting three years ago. He was above the rules of the school, above the rules everywhere, dangling his parents’ name and a wad of cash above anyone who tried to tell him no.

His hair was bleached blonde, but it seemed so healthy that you could’ve mistaken it for his natural hair color if you hadn’t known any better. He’d shed all his snow-protectant layers, which were sprawled out along the remainder of the couch next to him. Despite the lack of need for it today, he was dressed in his usual uniform—a black blazer, white turtleneck, and black and green plaid pants—which was a blatant violation of the dress code due to the lack of a polo shirt, but you’d never see him get in trouble for it. He sat with an aura of regality that you could only try and imitate, with his leg lazily crossed over the other and his arm resting on the back of the couch. In his other hand was a cup of coffee like yours, but his was so hot that it was steaming from the lid’s opening.

“I didn’t know your last name until Mark told me,” he finally said, taking a sip of his burning hot coffee. You mimicked his movements, taking a sip from your own, trying to fight off any physical reaction to the bitterness of it.

“What do you mean?”

Jeno sighed, holding up his hand. You stared for a moment, narrowing your eyes in an attempt to make out the small letters on his palm. Then, all too quickly, the truth flooded your mind—the initials on your hand, LJN, and the initials on his, your very own set.

It shocked you so bad that you nearly dropped the cup of coffee. The reveal did nothing to soothe your nerves and, instead, amped up the panic a lot more. Your head spun at the thought, and, while you hated to say it, all you could think about was the negatives.

What would your parents say when they found out your soulmate was Lee Jeno, of all people? The son of a CEO-and-politician, the son of a man who drowned in money, a person who was born rich and would die rich? They’d never leave you alone once finding out, demanding check after check to ensure they never said a word about their relation to the Lees. They’d torment you for the rest of your life, and you’d forever be stuck under their reign of terror, forever their child, forever their moneybag.

On top of that, you’d never have an accomplishment that was fully tied to you again. People would see you as a connection, and they’d give you opportunities based upon that connection rather than based on your natural ability. You’d be respected because of who your soulmate was, not because of who you were, and you’d end up like the women you saw on TV—lifeless dolls with the title of “wife” and nothing else.

You thought meeting your soulmate was supposed to be this fateful encounter under the stars, the moment where you met the one person who would love you most. You expected to be mystified, sent to a world of love and comfort, sent to a world where your problems were nonexistent and the sun was shining and the birds sang tales of love and togetherness. You wanted to feel as though you were being embraced by constellations, struck by Cupid’s arrow as you stared at the person the universe decided was your fateful match.

Instead, you stared at Lee Jeno, and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

“Well,” you mumbled, unsure of what you should do now. “What now?”

He didn’t seem to have a direct answer, either, simply taking another sip of his coffee. You mentally questioned how he was able to consume something that hot without burning the hell out of his tongue, but that wasn’t something you needed to dwell on.

When he didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to ask another question and drill until you got all the answers you wanted.

“How long have you known?”

This was something he seemed to know the answer to. Without skipping a beat, he replied, “Mark told me about eight months ago after he saw your name on the award listings.”

To that, you felt your heart dry out a little bit more than it already was. Eight months was a long time to wait after knowing who your soulmate might be, especially considering that, eight months ago, he could’ve easily contacted you before the break between school years began. Wanting more out of him, you stayed silent, still trying to figure out what exactly you were feeling at that moment.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure of it, but Suhyeon told me your initials about three months ago. That’s when my friends found out and started hounding me to tell you.”

Suhyeon? Last you checked, she was horrified by the thought of even being near the golden boys, let alone speaking to them. In what situation would she have been around them without you, especially given that she was talking to them? It seemed Lee Jeno was the sort of person who answered a question by creating more, which was something you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“So why now, then? You obviously weren’t in a hurry.”

He took another slow, awkward sip of his coffee, and, if you weren’t insane, it seemed like he was nervous to you. That ignited a sense of pride in you, and you wanted to assume most people would never stress Lee Jeno out in their lives. At the same time, you wanted to hurry things up and leave so that you wouldn’t have to think about him until you needed to.

“I have a family dinner next week, and my dad…my dad wants me to start talking to Lim Nayeong because he thinks I should marry her. No offense to Nayeong, but I’d rather die than marry her right out of high school, and you’re…the only way I can convince him otherwise.”

The room went dead silent. You were unsure how to respond to a declaration like that without being mean, and, with the quirk of your lips, you couldn’t help but allow the flood gates to open.

“I’m sorry, but how in the world am I supposed to help? In what world is marriage to me more advantageous? I'm a random hick from the countryside who got lucky and struck it big. If anything, I’d make your father more inclined to marry you off.” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at how ridiculous this was, a hand hovering over your mouth and your eyes filling with laughter-born tears. Jeno stared at you incredulously, not even reacting to your sudden outburst in the slightest.

“I’m sorry man, but you might be better off taking literally anybody else with the same initials as me. I’m not the help you need.”

“So you wouldn't care if your soulmate married someone else?”

The undertone of anger in his voice washed away your laughter in an instant, nearly making you jump. You dropped your hand to your lap, sighing—you wondered if you’d end up pouring out your whole life story to him tonight. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet my soulmate in hopes that they’d be some knight in shining armor. After these midterms, though, I’m thinking my scholarship is going to be revoked and I’ll be back to the land in the poor and underprivileged. Sorry, Jeno, but, once again, you’d be better off picking somebody else to bring along. I'm not going to let myself fall in love with something painfully unrealistic, even if that something is my universal other-half.”

Jeno seemed to be exasperated at every word that left your mouth, and you weren’t sure how you were meant to handle the increasing hostility that was starting to emanate from your supposed soulmate. The more things went south, the more you wanted to laugh and scream at yourself for thinking your soulmate would be some prince from a foreign land. You were so childish, thinking you’d get anything out of the whole ‘soulmate’ ruse—at least you’d be paid off after Nayeong got married to Jeno. Then, you might be able to emancipate yourself with a good lawyer and blackmail the Lees into more money for a nice, Seoul apartment to rent.

“Okay. Let’s make a bet, then. If you score over me in four out of the six subjects, you’ll be in my car on the way to my parents’ house next Friday. Deal?”

Even with your continued top-five status on the class leaderboards, you don’t think you’d ever managed to score above Lee Jeno in four subjects. The only things you consistently dominated in were English, Literature, and History—you’d achieved first place in all three during every single exam season you’d had at the academy—and the rest—sciences, math, anything STEM—you barely achieved the top five rankings that were required of you.

For some reason, you were antsy to receive your test scores, now. You’d never made a bet on whether or not you’d do worse than somebody, ever. It was nearly exhilarating, and you now felt there was a reward to the end of your scholarship: at the very, very least, you wouldn’t have to attend a Lee family dinner with Lee Jeno, who you were finding to be very unpleasant.

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, standing up from the couch and looking down at him. “Deal.”

With that, you approached the rows of books, leaving Jeno to consider what he thought he'd accomplish by bringing you along to anything.

iv. and most of the titans would spend eternity there.

Three days into break, and you haven’t done much of anything. Suhyeon was out with her other rich friends, her “very own posse” as she liked to call it, and had spent the past couple of days staying off campus—it left you with a lot of time to think.

For the most part, you wondered what would happen in the unlikely case Jeno won your bet. You’d never had to speak to someone like that, someone who wasn’t a wealthy teacher or classmate—his parents were the real, unbridled deal. People who spent thousands every day, not blinking an eye at four-digit totals or the state of their bank account.

It scared you. A lot.

You could dish out a big word now and then, offer a cordial smile, or impress with your general knowledge of the world, but there was nothing about you that would impress a multi-billionaire. Not even a party trick or a joke you’d spent a million years formulating.

That fear, rivaling the fear of expulsion, was what brought you to your current position in the corner of the campus on a rarely-cleaned picnic table, your head in your arms and your eyes trained towards a rose bush. According to the clock on your phone, class rankings had been posted eleven minutes ago, and you had no intention of checking any time soon.

Win or lose, there was no positive for you, and you didn't like that. In any other circumstance, retaining the ability to attend classes here and gaining letters of recommendation was the best possibility for you, as it would be for anyone else. However, the world had to curse you with an old-money, top-elite soulmate rather than an honest, just-rich-enough-to-afford-tuition soulmate—you seriously had run out of luck when you procured the scholarship.

“Oh? What are you doing out here, Miss Honor Student?” Na Jaemin asked, scaring you at the suddenness of his appearance. You jerked up, looking towards him flustered and a bit embarrassed. He looked at you questioningly, his hands cupped and held near his chest.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I suppose you asking makes more sense,” he laughed, approaching one of the rose bushes you’d been staring at. “I found a bee crawling on the ground. Poor thing has a broken wing,” he hummed, reaching his hands out to a flower. You didn’t try and second guess his words, believing his alibi without needing any proof. Instead, you looked away, your stomach crawling at the thought of carrying a bee across campus like that. “Although, haven’t rankings been posted? Anyone would expect you to be first in line.”

“I’m not worked up over it or anything,” you mumbled, resisting the urge to put your head back down and block him out of your world. “Going now would just yield a bunch of crowding around a tiny bulletin board. It’s too difficult.”

“If you started walking now, I’d bet the crowd’s mostly dissipated,” he suggested, coming back around to where he could be in your line of sight. “Want to walk together?”

Feeling cornered, you stood up, brushing the dust and dirt off the bottom of your bag. Jaemin smiled satisfyingly, offering an arm for you to take. In the most non-discreet way possible, you pretended to not see the offer, brushing past him quickly. He didn’t let the act bruise his ego, though, following behind you in earnest. You wondered if, due to your relationship with his best friend, he felt the need to ensure that you had no ill feelings towards him; or, maybe, he resonated with you, as both of you started at the academy much later than most of your classmates.

“I heard the big reveal didn’t go as nicely as it could have,” he began, keeping pace with you almost perfectly. Your steps were completely in sync, and you couldn’t help but notice how he’d done it on purpose rather than coincidentally. Another thing you’d heard about Na Jaemin was that he was a robot, but most people were joking when they said that—maybe, they could’ve been right.

“Well, we’re not exactly the most chemical pair.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Jaemin said, lightly elbowing you in the arm. “He just doesn’t know how romance works. He’s all antsy right now because he told his dad to not invite Nayeong and her family to their very rare family dinners and used you as the excuse. I told him—I said, ‘Jeno, you can’t use your soulmate to get out of marriage unless you actually know your soulmate.’ And he got all pissy at me. I tried to make him make it the least bit romantic, but it sounds like he didn’t try at all.”

“He got me coffee.”

“Coffee is bitter and unromantic, though. I’d know.” Jaemin giggled, putting his arms behind his head. You approached the entrance to a corridor, which would effectively put you on the path to the bulletin. But, Jaemin took a sharp turn, leading you through the long way to get you there.

“Are you a ladies’ man? Romance-expert, or something?” you asked jokingly, not expecting any sort of genuine response. The closer you got to the truth made you start to get nervous again, words getting stuck at the top of your throat, impossible to speak yet impossible to swallow back down.

“Maybe I am.”

Jaemin looked towards you, giving you a look that you were half sure was him reading your mind and learning everything he possibly could about you. He was incredibly good at blending into you, even if you hadn’t talked much; everything he said coaxed more out of you, and every movement created a new line of conversation.

Every rumor you’d heard about him—so good at befriending people that it’s scary, a perfect speaker, the most eloquent student at the school—was proving to be true. He was monstrous, somebody you surely wouldn’t want to have on your bad side.

“You and I are similar, you know,” he said, tearing his away from you to look towards the door to the main school building. He opened it for you, waiting for you to enter before he did himself.

“How so?”

“My family’s new to this whole ‘rich and famous’ thing,” he began. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, watching as he looked up to the ceiling. His eyes glittered like stars, reflecting everything they saw to a T. “We’re, like, the ultimate definition of new money. My dad hit it big with Jeno’s dad, got on his good side, and became the chair of a subsidiary…so I’m in a limbo of sorts.”

“God, I wish my dad hit it big with Jeno’s,” you snorted, picking at the nail polish coating your fingers. “Is that why you came in at the beginning of high school rather than earlier?”

“My dad wanted me to experience a little bit of what he did, at the very least. Both my mom and dad thought it’d be too much if they moved me from here to a normal high school, though…thus, the order.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of fear as you turned a corner and a crowd of whispering teenagers came into view. Your conversation with Jaemin ended the moment they did, instead making way for what, no matter what, would be the worst moments of your life so far.

The moment you reached the crowd, people began to stare at you, whispering under their breaths as they passed. It was like being the center exhibit at an expensive art show, being a piece made entirely for public reaction. The more you walked, the more the red sea parted, giving you a clear path to the bulletin board. Within seconds, you’d reached it, scanning from the bottom up.

Number two was Jeno, to no one’s surprise. In order, his rankings had been second for English, second for history, second for literature, first for math, second for science, and second in his elective.

One above him was you.

First in English. First in history. First in literature. Second for math. First for science. First for your elective.

At that moment, you could’ve passed out. You stared at the line of ones (and a single two) in front of you, wondering how in the world you achieve something like that. For the past two years, you’d battled against private tutors and possible instances of cheating, always barely being able to hit the mark for every single subject. You never struggled in any of the humanities, but…second in math after your catastrophe of a test and first in science—physics specifically—felt like an absolute lie to you.

It felt unreal. It felt like you’d become the kids whose parents paid for their grades, who spent hours with private tutors that cost hundreds of thousands of won per hour. It felt like, somehow, you’d hit a peak even though you were only seventeen.

Your ears seemed to open, hearing everything the students around you said. “She’s never let Lee Jeno pass her once,” someone said, whispering to their friend.

“Do you think she gave him math as a pity grade? I heard they were in the same time slot last Thursday.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to figure things out amongst the chatter. Every word that came out of your peers' mouths was a word that clouded your mind, creating new ideas that you’d never once considered.

“She’s a commoner and she’s beating Lee Jeno. That ought to hurt the Lee name, right?”

Since when have you become Jeno’s rival? For a simple stroke of luck on a few tests? You felt like you were going insane, your feet cemented to the floor and your hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline, mixed with an intense and sudden wave of relief, that came with reading your scholarship was intact.

“Protip,” Jaemin said, grabbing your attention with ease. He seemed to drag you back down to Earth, returning you to the pedestal on which you were expected to carry the world. “There’s only one thing that’ll put you above the title of student council president and daughter of a filthy rich tech couple, and that’s this.”

“Nayeong ranks first every year, too. This’ll barely help.”

“I don’t think so,” Jaemin chuckled. You looked at him, raising an accusatory brow; he mirrored your expression, looking down at you with eyes that sparkled with mischief and utter madness. “Miss Nayeong ranked seventh this time around.”

v. unlike his fellow titans, atlas had a different punishment.

There wasn’t a single word to be shared between you and Jeno, and you couldn’t ever see yourself getting to a point where there was.

After he’d sent you a text—where he got your number, you’re unsure—asking for your general clothing measurements, then dropping off a dress with a price tag you never, ever wanted to face again, you hadn’t spoken a word to each other.

Even as you climbed into the sleek, black car that waited for you about a couple of blocks away from campus, he didn’t so much as greet you, deciding that telling the driver to get going was a much better use of his time. For the man who got so upset when you showed little to no care about your soulmate status, you were quite surprised at his unwillingness to speak to you.

A part of you wanted to keep up the silence, to ignore the slight tug in your heart and the fact that you needed to know at least something about him so his parents didn’t get suspicious, but you weren’t going to embarrass yourself with him. Especially not in front of the moneybags that he called parents.

So, when you reached about ten minutes before your estimated time of arrival at a fancy hotel (rather than his house, which was the former location of this family dinner), you began to fiddle with your handbag, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper.

“This is my transcript thus far,” you said, breaking the silence between you two. He looked away from the window, staring down at the hand that carried the paper. “Someone told me your dad was big on grades. Thought it’d be useful for your argument.”

He pulled it from your fingertips, much gentler than you’d assume from Lee Jeno, and his eyes lingered on your hands. You’d painted your nails for the occasion, wiping off the half-chipped coat you previously had on in favor of a nicer, more sophisticated color. It matched the dress well, along with the makeup you’d begged Suhyeon to help you put on without telling her the occasion for it.

“Nice job on the nails,” he commented, looking away from them and putting the folded piece of paper in his pocket. “You look expensive.”

“Is that not the goal?”

“That’s precisely the goal. I need you to look like I dote on you,” Jeno mumbled, dropping his hands into his lap. “Sorry, but I’m going to really play up the scholarship student thing.”

“No worries. I understand not wanting to marry someone you don’t know.”

The more you thought about it, the more you began to pity him. Worrying about a money-based arranged marriage was a very first-world-problems-esque issue to be having, you could respect that it was something he didn’t want. You just wished he was asking you to be his scapegoat as a lie rather than as a reality—you’d feel much better if you were pretending to be his soulmate.

“I don’t think my father will be too interested in the details of our relationship, he’ll just want proof you’ll be able to measure up to Nayeong,” Jeno said, ignoring your earlier comment. “Activities, grades, I don’t care what, play up everything about yourself. He doesn’t care about in-laws, he cares about the money you can bring in.”

“Wow, sounds like a lovely man.”

Jeno cleared his throat, made uncomfortable by your short quip. “He is when he’s not talking about his paycheck.”

To you, it sounded like Jeno was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, but you weren’t in the mood to pry. Instead, you looked out the window once again, cringing at how snowy and cold it looked outside. You were going to freeze in this dress, even when you were wearing insulated tights underneath, even when it was long-sleeved and pretty thick.

When the hotel came into view, you embarrassingly recognized it as a place many social media celebrities enjoyed coming to. In your few moments of off time, you were sure you’d seen the outside in a few lifestyle vlogs or food review videos. It was fairly trendy; you had to give Jeno’s parents props for that.

Opposite to your reaction, Jeno scoffed at the sight of the luxury inn, evidently unsatisfied with it. “Of course she’d pick here,” he murmured to himself. You wondered if his siblings—who were going to be attending as you’d learned this morning—had been in charge of picking the restaurant, which would make more sense given its online reputation. He shared that he had two younger sisters and a younger brother, all of whom weren’t in high school yet, so you’d never met them or seen them before.

The driver pulled up to the extravagant porte-cochere—the fancy driveway outside of a hotel, which Suhyeon had taught you the name of—and slowed to a stop, but neither you nor Jeno moved.

“Remember,” he said, putting on the coaching voice he used to relay this to you earlier. “My mom will be the weak spot, so focus on her more than my dad. We both need to fight when my father grows argumentative, but you need to be more tactical and logical. My siblings will be on our side so don’t try to make a case to them.”

“What are their names again?”

“In order, Yeojin, Soeun, and Sunwoo.”

You recited their names, wondering why Jeno had received such an odd name compared to the rest of them. Nevertheless, you made the first move to exit the stationary car, regretting it the moment the night air hit your skin. A deep chill cemented itself in your stomach, and you began to wonder how it managed to be so unimaginably cold at all. Jeno followed behind you, mumbling something else as he joined you outside.

You briefly considered how this was going to go, given you’d never tried to act like you were in love with someone before. You were sure Jeno was a pro at fabricating things, plastering on disingenuous smiles and acting interested in the monetary, arrogant talk of wealthy adults. The most you’d done was work at your local convenience store for a summer.

The moment he joined up next to you, he linked his arm with yours, and you were off. You were thankful for the warmth you received from him, even if it was slightly uncomfortable given your situation. You preferred being warm over being comfortable in most situations.

The doors slid open automatically, leading you into a world entirely separate from your own. You tried to suppress the urge to ogle at everything, to approach the plants that lined the lobby and check if they were real, to run for the sole purpose of hearing your heels clack against the marble floor. You kept your jaw screwed shut and your eyes forward, even if all you wanted to do was “ooh” at the chandeliers on the ceiling.

You’d never forget this moment. Being a customer at a place you’d exclusively seen through rich influencers’ and celebrities’ social media felt ridiculous.

One glance up was all you allowed yourself—a simple, lingering stare—but it put you in last place anyway. When you looked back down, there was a girl, no older than 15, sprinting towards you, a big smile on her face. Jeno dropped your arm and pulled the girl into a hug, a smile blooming on his face as he did. You’d never seen him smile so genuinely in your life.

Another girl came forward as well, but she came slower, more timidly. She was certainly younger than the other girl, maybe around 11 or 12, with her hair done much simpler and her clothes much more juvenile. She passed by Jeno and (who you assumed to be) his sister, stopping in front of you. “Um, hello,” she said. You smiled, assuming this was when your grand performance was to begin.

“Hello there,” you replied, feeling a surge of confidence run through you. “Soeun, right?”

Her eyes practically doubled in size for a moment, and you hoped that meant your leap-in-the-dark guess had been correct. “Um, yeah. You’re [First], right?”

“That would be me, yes.”

Soeun opened her mouth to speak, but Yeojin quickly cut her off by dragging you into a highly unwelcome hug. You ignored the discomfort, reaching your arms around her and giving her a few awkward pats. “It’s so fun to meet you!” Yeojin squealed, and you briefly wondered how long Jeno had been telling his family about you before he directly told you.

“Yeojin,” Jeno said, a warning-esque tone in his voice. “Lay off a bit.”

You felt her freeze and then she immediately let go of you, practically pushing her off. A hand covered her mouth—her nails were perfectly manicured, done much better than your self-painted ones—and she gasped, and now you felt a bit overwhelmed by her. Soeun, to Yeojin’s side, looked away, her eyes shiny and a bit saddened; while she certainly wasn’t living a life anything similar to yours, you could see yourself in her, a bit.

“Sorry, I forget we’ve never met. You’re, like, big news on the lower grade campus,” Yeojin said. “Among the second years, you’re like a superhero or something. First place without a tutor! Rare, one-in-a-million scholarship student! I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity.”

Well, that was certainly something you didn’t want to hear. Yeojin was already the type of person you couldn’t handle well, if the past few minutes were anything to go off of, and she’d shared mildly upsetting information with you already. You didn’t want to be popular among middle schoolers at all.

“That’s nice, I suppose. Maybe a bit worrying,” you joked, and Yeojin seemed to think you were a comedian by the way she laughed. Jeno looked at you both, obviously sensing your lack of social capability. and chose that moment to switch the attention to Soeun.

“Do you want to lead us to our table, Soeun?” he asked, taking your arm into his once again. Now that you were in the warm, heated hotel, the gesture only made you feel uncomfortable rather than warmed. If you were eating outside, maybe you’d be able to handle any skinship he initiated to make your relationship seem more believable—you supposed that either way, you signed up for this.

Yeojin squealed at you two, though, which made everything about this so much less worth it. After being surrounded by high schoolers and adults for two entire years, you’d forgotten how insufferable 14-year-olds were, and, somehow, Yeojin had managed to assume the worst form of 14-year-old possible. You felt bad for her older self, who would, inevitably, look back on this period of her life with misery rather than fondness.

Soeun took the lead as she was asked to do, shuffling her feet across the marble flooring. It didn’t take long for Yeojin to take the lead, beginning to chatter on about something you managed to tune out pretty quickly. You took the time to gaze at the beauty around you, from intricate flower pots to huge pieces of art that lined the walls. This felt fake, almost, and you wondered how you’d managed to get this lucky with the game of fate. If only a future between you and Jeno felt plausible.

Soeun (more so Yeojin) led you up a set of marble stairs, and then, into a long, dimly lit corridor. It was filled with paintings and lined with the most beautifully-installed marble you’d ever seen. Then, you reached the door at the end, which was made of glass and had insanely intricate carvings on it. Along with that, it had the words “The Aviary” engraved onto the one empty spot among the carvings.

You felt faint. For a moment, you wondered how much Jeno’s parents’ bill would be for this meal, and then you decided to mentally scold yourself for even wondering that in the first place. Yeojin pushed the door open, letting both you and Soeun pass.

The Aviary was, quite possibly, the fanciest restaurant you’d ever been in. It had chandeliers everywhere and thin, walkable carpet on the floors, along with more art that lined every inch of the wall it possibly could. Every table had a pure white table cloth and velvet chairs, each one already perfectly set with a million different utensils and candles that lined the span of it. Soeun continued to lead you deeper into the restaurant. past waiters and tables and windows that showed a more elevated view of Seoul than you were expecting.

You must’ve missed scaling such a massive hill when you were on your way here, mostly due to the internal panic you were fighting off the entire time. You tried to suppress your ogling again, looking towards the floor and hoping you didn’t look like an absolute idiot.

Soeun then led you through a door and into another hallway, this one lined with several doors. She approached the one at the edge once again, and Yeojin beat her to the door again, opening it and waiting for you to enter.

You were instantly hit with the view of Lee Jeno’s father, who looked like your biggest fear. Next to him was his wife, Jeno’s mother, and a few chairs down was a boy who seemed to be about 15 as well, absorbed in his phone and dead to the world.

It kind of felt like you were about to undergo the reckoning, and your final opponents were every relevant religious figure. Every breath that escaped Jeno’s parents’ lips was revered and every blink was well documented, every lost eyelash and every slight movement was taken note of. It’d be accurate to say that Jeno’s parents were more important than the prime minister—they brought in the money and held up the economy, while all the prime minister did was sit and twiddle his fingers.

“You must be [First],” Jeno’s mother said, standing. A small smile graced her features, one that looked and felt apologetic. One glance at the man next to her told you all you needed to know about why she might’ve been apologetic.

“Yes,” you nodded, smiling back. You pulled your arm from Jeno’s, giving her a deep bow; most of the time, you’d learned those wealthier (and older) than you enjoyed the robotic, hardly-genuine signs of respect that most other adults in your life had abandoned. When you stood up straight again, you were pleased to see the impressed glint in her eyes.

“I’m Jeno’s mother,” she introduced, although you found it to be a bit redundant.

“It’s lovely to meet you, ma’am. I’ve heard much about you.”

You hoped she didn’t inquire about any knowledge of their family, as, other than basic facts and events, you knew next to nothing about their personal lives. Jeno’s mother took a seat, motioning to the chairs in front of her and her husband. You allowed Jeno to pull your chair out, internally questioning whether or not anyone had ever pulled your chair out for you.

The velvet seats were more comfortable than any seat you’d ever owned, from your desk chair at school to the lousy, old couch back at your parents' house. You couldn’t imagine how much they’d cost the restaurant, given that every single table had a set of at least four. Even if Jeno’s dad stared at you like you were the grossest, most disgusting thing you’d ever seen, at least you’d get to sit in this chair and eat the restaurant’s food.

“It’s lovely to see you again too, dear,” Mrs. Lee said, giving Jeno a new type of smile. This one was much different than the one she’d offered you—everything about this one carried a mother’s warmth, a mother’s love, drenched in such intense care that nothing could shake it. Jeno could’ve entered this restaurant in his unwashed gym clothes and she would’ve offered the same smile, unchanged and unshaken.

“Mother,” Jeno greeted with a nod. Then, he turned to his father and extended a steady glare. His father glared back, and, as Yeojin and Soeun took their seats next to Sunwoo, a subtle air of war settled over the table. There would be nothing pleasant about this dinner, even if the food was perfect and the view was delightful.

You took the moment of silence to remind yourself that this was not much of a dinner, rather, it was a challenge. A test to see if you were worthy to wed to Jeno one day, and a challenge to see if you could keep up the perfect-soulmate act to void any sort of marriage contract to Nayeong.

“Mr. Lee,” you said, taking the initiative to speak to your strongest opponent. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, as well. Jeno speaks of you very highly.”

When he looked toward you, your blood ran cold. His stare, now protruding into your eyes rather than the side of your head, was icy and unwelcoming like you’d just beat him in a lawsuit or nothing. He was an unbreakable wall, and you told yourself that you only needed to find the single crack that was caused by love for his eldest son as if it would be easy.

“You’re the academy’s charity case for Jeno’s year, correct?”

Ouch. What an obvious insult, among the many he could’ve thrown at you—you were almost impressed that he didn’t even try to hide his hostility. You’d thought that, at the very least, he’d try to maintain his usual TV persona, but maybe you overestimated your worthiness of receiving that sort of respect. Before you could smile and tell him, yes, you are the charity case, Jeno flared up, ready to spit false fire at his father.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn't call my girlfriend a charity case, Father,” Jeno spat, eyes narrowed. You instinctively put a hand on his shoulder, figuring this would be a good, caring gesture given the situation. Being called somebody’s girlfriend felt foreign, but you supposed it wouldn’t be the best idea to disclose that. After all, this would likely be your one chance to impress him, if you had to guess. You were well acquainted with the idea of being a charity case, hell, you agreed.

“No, he’s right. If they didn’t have to maintain their image, they wouldn’t have the scholarship exams at all,” you said, keeping your eyes on Jeno’s father. Slowly, you dropped your hand from his shoulder, leaning back on the chair and ignoring the pounding of your heart. “Nevertheless, I am fully confident in my abilities. I deserve to be at a school like the academy. Even if I must endure a title like ‘charity case.’”

Jeno’s father turned his eyes towards Jeno and then back at you, the glare never faltering. You wondered how a single man harbored so much malice, and how Jeno saw his father in a good light. He seemed bitter and controlling, angry that his son—his next-of-kin, the boy who would one day be the king of his corporate kingdom—refused to marry a woman he did not know, right out of high school.

He did not say anything in return to your response, rather, picking up his delicately folded, fabric napkin and unraveling it to place on his lap. You mimicked his actions, remembering how Suhyeon once mentioned that you shouldn’t do something until the lead of the table has (among many other things she decided to recite to you one late night, so you could’ve been completely off the mark with that one). However, judging by the way everyone else seemed to do the same shortly after you, you assumed you guessed right.

“Jeno shared that you’re quite the prodigy, though, [First]. I mean, to be able to hold your own amongst children who have top-notch private tutors and spend all their time studying…I couldn’t imagine doing something like that,” Jeno’s mom said, trying to salvage what her husband destroyed. “If you weren’t so busy with your own schoolwork, I’d hire you to tutor the girls.”

“I’m honored you’d entrust me with furthering your children’s education,” you smiled, picking up the glass of water that was filled before you came in. You attempted to hold it as daintily as possible, taking the shortest, most sophisticated sip you could muster.

“Is that not what’s expected of her, though?” Jeno’s father was apparently determined to ruin your day, likely to destroy what little confidence you had and remove you from the academy (and Jeno’s life) completely. “It’s not impressive when she is merely fulfilling what is asked of her.”

You pondered what might’ve put his father on edge so quickly. You’d barely spoken to this man at all, let alone been in the same room as him, and he was already determined to get rid of you. Perhaps that was why he moved the dinner location from his home to here—he didn’t want this to be an official “meet-the-parents” event. He wanted it to be a family dinner without your presence at all.

You figured he would be thrilled to hear that you and his son likely had no future together.

“Is she not going above and beyond? If she was just meeting the scholarship requirements, why is she first place instead of fifth?” Jeno questioned, leaning back in his chair. You looked over, and, from the expression on his face, Jeno seemed actually upset. His ears were tinged red and his face was tight, and, with a quick once over, you could see that his fists were clenched and his shoulders were fairly tight.

To be honest, you couldn’t blame him. If you had to listen to your father reject your soulmate in favor of a random girl you barely knew, you’d be pretty pissed off too, no matter your relationship with your soulmate.

“Because she spends every second of the day with her head in a book, Jeno. Not because she has natural talent, or because she’s the prodigy your school claims she is,” he fired back. If you held any respect for Jeno’s father, you’d be utterly destroyed; luckily, you had no respect for any man that ran a company that was hinged on the work of underpaid laypeople, so you were unscathed by his words. “Nayeong is student council president, holds herself in the top five, does service whenever she can…and your little soulmate is relying on her connection to you to make anything of herself.”

You audibly snorted at that, raising an eyebrow. “I am?” you questioned, crossing your legs. A sick sense of amusement filled your chest, along with a burst of confidence. “With all due respect, sir, I did not aim for my scholarship with the intent of striking gold with my soulmate or significant other. I aimed for it because the only way I can make anything of myself is with my grades, because my mother didn’t give birth to me on a bed of cash.”

Jeno began to speak right after you, not granting any time for his father to reply to you. “Besides,” he said, slamming two pieces of paper—unfolded and crinkled—onto the table. “Nayeong got seventh this year.”

His father scanned over the papers, which you realized were both yours and Lim Nayeong’s transcripts. Yours, from where you sat, had nothing but ones, twos, and the occasional three or four, while hers had fours, fives, and even nines, without a single one in sight. Nayeong’s grades were nothing to be ashamed of given how busy she was with everything else, but next to yours, they didn’t measure up in the slightest.

It made you feel embarrassed. It made you want to say, “there is still not much of a difference between Nayeong and me, I just scored a few points more.”

“So compared to a girl with sevens, a student council position, and a respectable family,” Jeno’s father said slowly, returning to his complete ignorance of you. “You’d rather spend the rest of your life with a poor, unsightly girl who has slightly impressive grades, alcoholic parents, and a drug-addicted brother in prison?”

Your blood ran cold. Jeno’s jaw clenched, and his mother gasped, turning towards her husband and slapping his shoulder. “You promised me you wouldn’t bring that up—” she began but was quickly cut off by Jeno standing so suddenly that his chair fell over, banging against the ground and causing everybody to flinch. You looked up at him, an emptiness spreading through your chest.

“Talk to my girlfriend like that again,” he began, clenching his fists so hard that his hands began to shake. “And I will end you.”

He didn’t waste a moment turning towards the door, throwing it open, and marching out. You stood up quickly, albeit much more gracefully, draping the fabric napkin over the back of your chair and racing out of the room without another word. You didn’t look back, keeping your eyes on Jeno’s shrinking figure and walking as fast as you could without speeding up to a run. You sped through the restaurant, out into the lobby and past all the glitz and glamor of the hotel. By the time you caught up to him, Jeno was standing outside in the empty entry area, typing furiously on his phone.

“You—you didn’t have to blow up like that. I mean, we were just acting, and I can’t say I wasn’t expecting him to know.”

Jeno turned towards you, scoffing. “I just don’t get it.”

“Huh?” You tilted your head, wondering why he sounded so…mean. Angry, even.

“You’re perfect,” he said, looking up at the darkened sky. The lighting from the hotel entrance lit up his face, every feature and every imperfection (although scarce) perfectly on display, but you could’ve sworn the stars were what lit up his eyes. They sparkled like fireworks, the kind that was loud and Earth-shaking. “Everything about you. You’re pretty, you’re perfectly intelligent, you know how to speak to people and you know how to get your point across. You know when to smile and when to not. You know how to meet new people and try new things.”

You were confused. He launched compliment after compliment at you, but he sounded almost…bitter about it. Like he was unhappy you were all those things.

‘Um…” you mumbled, but couldn’t find the words to respond. You just stared, waiting for him to say anything, feeling the cold dive deeper into your skin—under your skin—and each shiver become more intense.

“There’s not a single thing you don’t beat me in but money. So what if you have terrible parents and an awful family, because you’re the picture-perfect poster girl—hell, you’re more than that. You have the perfect underdog story too, and he still hates you. He still prefers that—that witch,” he rambled, looking down and kicking a pebble that was next to his feet. “What does that mean for me? If you’re so terrible, so average despite your grades and your reputation, does that not mean I’m a failure of a son?”

“What? Jeno, I think you’re overreacting—”

“Oh, am I?” he turned, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets. “You’ve been ahead of me from the moment you stepped onto that god-forsaken campus, and you’ve given me, what, math as reparations? Every year, I have to use the excuse that I have the scholarship student to compete with, and that’s why I’m not the perfect top of the class, but he views you as obsolete. Doesn’t that mean I’m worse than obsolete? Huh?”

“Well, other than the fact that you’re agreeing with him,” you said, crossing your arms. “What does it matter what he thinks? Even if he gives his business to one of your siblings, you’ll still be drowning in cash. So what if you get married to Nayeong? Just cheat on her, or something, because, if she’s such a witch,” you paused, emphasizing your distaste with his nickname for her, “won’t she do the same?”

“How are you so okay with this?” he asked, raising his voice in the slightest. “You found out I was your soulmate and you didn’t even try to make a connection. You were okay with me using you to sidestep my father’s plans for me, you were okay with him relentlessly insulting you until it had something to do with your private life—why?”

“Why? Would you like it if a man you’d never met brought up your terrible at-home life and decided to equate it to you being terrible? I know my strengths, I know who I am, but it’s not very nice to be compared to 4 siblings who didn’t even attempt university and parents who barely work,” you replied, wondering why he was getting so upset. Minutes ago, he was spewing lines straight out of a drama, but now he was mobilizing against you, too. The worst part was that you couldn’t match his energy at all—maybe it was reactionary to the fact that you no longer had to sit through a dinner with his parents, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel angry.

You were realizing that Jeno viewed you as a rival, while you never had. Before the past week, he was just another golden boy, one of the boys Suhyeon hated, one of the fancy popular boys you’d never talk to. It seemed as though he’d viewed you as an opponent from your first round of exams.

You felt bad, for some reason—guilty even. As if this was something you were meant to feel guilty for. You couldn’t imagine Jeno had been exactly thrilled when he found out you were his soulmate—judging by how long it took him to tell you, he wasn’t thrilled at all—and yet he was acting like you’d ruined his life.

You didn’t get it.

“You’re ridiculous.” Jeno laughed breathily, pacing around a bit. All you could do was watch, even when a car pulled up in front of you, likely for him to make his grand escape. “Jaemin was wrong. This was never going to work.”

“Did you ever think it was?” you rose a brow, suppressing a shiver that was beginning to creep down your back. “Sorry, Jeno, but we were destined for destruction. Even if we tried to foster something, that wouldn’t stop my parents from approaching the tabloids, and it wouldn’t stop the tabloids from painting me as a money-grabbing asshole. Count your blessings, okay? You’ll have everything and more. A loveless marriage is the least you need to deal with.”

He spun towards you, narrowing his eyes. “Just because I have money or a fancy house does not mean my life will be easy.”

You widened your eyes, nodding slowly. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

“Just—just get in the car. Leave, please.”

You turned towards the sleek, black car that was parked beside you. Without another word, you walked towards it, throwing the door open and basking in the heat that emanated out of it. You got in, slamming the door behind you, and watched Jeno get smaller and smaller as the driver drove you farther and farther away.

vi. instead of being banished to tartarus,

Suhyeon knows.

You can tell by the way she interacts with you, by the way she avoids you in the halls and stays out of the dorm until she absolutely can’t anymore. You can tell by the way she doesn’t interrupt your incessant studying, reignited by the end of break and the beginning of a new term, with mindless hypotheticals and useless facts. You can tell by the way she slips into her fight-or-flight persona when she speaks to you, the same person when she’s near the golden boys.

Reasonably, you’ve also begun to believe she’s not telling you something. Maybe you’ve always believed that, but it’s to a much larger extent now; there’s something important she’s not telling you. You’ve also concluded she was aware Jeno was your soulmate, but, for whatever reason, she chose not to tell you.

You can’t bring yourself to feel angry, no matter what you do, no matter how much you think about it. It stresses you out, how numb you feel in regards to your situation, how numb you’ve felt for the past two years or so. All your energy, and, by extension, all your emotions, have been poured into your grades and your social standing among professors and academic greats. There’s nothing left over to feel something for your own misgivings, unless it’s about school or your future.

It’s miserable here. Everything is miserable. But, if you give up, if you stop going, you’ll be trapped under the thumb of your parents forever, and you cannot live like that. No matter what, you cannot live like that.

“I see what you’re saying, [First],” Dr. Choi hummed, writing a few things down on her clipboard. “If you want me to be entirely honest with you, there’s not a single student on this campus that’s gone through anything as tough as you’re going through. Even if they’re being forced into an arranged marriage, even if they’re underestimated and outcasted by their parents. At the end of the day, unless they’re kicked out—which they won’t be—nobody here will ever know ‘struggle’ like you do.”

You want to feel vindicated by Dr. Choi’s words, but you simply can’t. You feel tired, overworked and underappreciated, and want nothing more than to return to your dorm room and go to bed.

“But, this ‘numbness’ you’re feeling…you say you’ve felt like this for a while?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m not one to deny things—it’s not my job to deny things—but I can safely say that’s likely not the case. Before last week, you had a good work-life balance…mostly…and you were happy. You never came to my office because you didn’t need to,” Dr. Choi said, causing you to look up at her from the coffee table between you. Her gaze was distressing, halfway implying she knew something you didn’t.

“What do you mean?”

“It feels similar, sure, because the only thing stressing you out then was school. Now, there’s two things, but only one is stressing you out…and you say you can’t feel anything else. It’s because you’re rejecting your soulmate.”

“Excuse me?”

“As far-fetched as it sounds, it’s true. Biologists like to say the concept of soulmates is nigh useless, and that the only thing denoting it is the little marking on your body, but…cognitive science says otherwise. Think of Jeno as half of your brain—the feeling part of your brain—and you’re the functioning part. He’s feeling too many emotions right now, and you’re feeling none, while he’s likely having trouble finding the motivation to do much of anything,” she explained. “It’s certainly not impossible to live without your soulmate, but rejecting them is a bit different. You’ll get over it one day, or you won’t, but for now it’ll be awful.”

You stayed silent, looking back down at the coffee table. You supposed it made sense, and she was right, you hadn’t worried about much other than your grades for the past two years. Your parents and family were always buzzing in the background, heightening your school stress by proxy, especially right now.

You didn’t like seeing Dr. Choi because it felt like she could never understand you, but perhaps she was making a solid point right now.

“So I just have to wait?”

“Yes. But, if you want my honest opinion, I don’t think anyone should attempt to reject their soulmate at 17,” she sighed, writing something else down on her clipboard. “You don’t know what love is, or what this is supposed to feel like. You feel like the world is ending because you’re not having the ‘love at first sight’ situation the TV tells you about. Try to form a relationship with him, even if it’s just a friendship, and don’t cut him out entirely. You’ll probably regret it later on.”

You doubted that, but you nodded like you were agreeing with her. She put her clipboard down on the table, allowing you to see your printed name and then tons of incomprehensible scribbles that only Dr. Choi could read. “Time’s up for today, unfortunately, as I have another student coming in. Don’t tell her I said she doesn’t know what struggle is, okay?”

You smiled hollowly, nodding. You stood up from the couch, picking up a hard candy from the bowl she kept on the table, considering that to be your reward for coming into the counselor’s office in the first place.

It was too bad you’d disregard all of her advice. At the end of the day, you were a teenager, and anything an adult said felt like an utter lie. You approached the office door, sliding it open and emerging into the hall. You wished the counselor’s office hadn’t been so far across campus, because now you had a far walk through the cold courtyard back to the dorm.

If they’d just put it in one of the class buildings rather than in the faculty building, your life would be much easier.

“Oh, [First]?”

You froze, turning your head to see the one-and-only Na Jaemin behind you. He sped up a bit, stopping as he reached your side. “Long time no see, genius. How are you?”

“Fine.”

You proceeded walking, as did he, keeping himself in step next to you. “Out of the counselor’s office? I heard once that they require you to go at least once a month for, y’know, academic stress. Rumor has it a scholarship student once offed himself because everything got too difficult.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rumor. It’s not required but every teacher encourages it more than I’d like them to,” you explained, unwrapping the pink hard candy and popping it in your mouth. Behind you, you heard the telling squeak of the counselor’s office door, and, out of curiosity, you turned to see who was going in after you.

Lim Nayeong. The coincidence could’ve made you laugh.

“It’s required for the student council, though. I guess being the quasi-leaders of the school is a bit harder than being the public reputation,” you joked, feeling the slightest bit relieved hearing Jaemin laugh in response.

“I guess so,” he replied, stopping you both at the elevator rather than the stairs. You sighed, suppressing the urge to say the stairs were always faster as he’d already pressed the shiny ‘down’ button. You could’ve walked off without him, but you weren’t an asshole, and if he wanted to walk with you, he could. The doors opened quickly, letting off a monotonous ‘ding’ as a result. Jaemin held his arm out, waiting for you to step inside before he did.

He was very gentlemanly, and you briefly considered that he was showing you his TV persona as an apology for not getting to receive Jeno’s father’s. Or, maybe, he was extending an apology from his own father, who somehow heard about how terribly you were treated.

“Look, Jeno didn’t mean it. He’s stressed about the thought of being tied down the moment he graduates, and he’s looking for every single way out. He thought you were a fool-proof plan, but he underestimated how far his father could go, and…well…”

It was more reasonable for Jaemin to be apologizing for Jeno. You weren’t very surprised that this was his main reason for talking to you, but you’d wished it would’ve been something more fulfilling than a secondary apology from Jeno.

“I don’t care. He can do what he wants, I’m not going to tell him how he can and can’t feel.”

“Okay, I’m gonna cut straight to the point,” Jaemin said, turning so that his whole body could face you. You gave him a judgmental look, wholly uninterested in whatever he was going to say to you. “Don’t reject Jeno now, all right? Wait until summer or something. For you, you just feel a little off, or, rather, you feel nothing at all, but this is practically overhauling everything in Jeno’s life. He nearly unfriended Donghyuck earlier because of a simple quip, and he can barely do anything without getting upset over it.”

“Do you think I can just…stop? I don’t feel any connection to him,” you said, hoping the elevator would hurry up. You cursed it for being so slow and old. “I don’t know what to tell you. I…I just don’t know.”

The lights on the elevator went off, and it jerked to a stop. You looked up, eyebrows furrowing. “You’re kidding me. Holy shit. You’re kidding me.”

You pressed your back to the wall of the elevator, sliding down to the floor. Jaemin didn’t say anything, but he pulled his phone out pretty quickly, typing frantically. You slid yours out as well, shocked to see a couple of texts from Suhyeon.

“hey where are you rn? we were just called down into the lounge,” read the first text. “god are you at the counselor’s office still? they’re not telling us what’s going on.”

You typed a quick response, saying you were still in the faculty building but the power went out as you were in the elevator. You hoped she didn’t question your elevator usage, putting your phone back into your pocket and ignoring the buzzing that ensued.

Jaemin was typing furiously from what you could see, the light from his phone being the only thing illuminating the elevator. He furrowed his brows, turning to look down at you. “Have you heard anything about what’s happening from anyone? None of my friends know, but they’ve all been gathered together for a while.”

“All I heard was that nobody was saying what’s happening.”

The moment you stopped talking, the lights flicked on, and the elevator began moving. You stood up, furrowing your brows as the floor counter turned from a “2” to a “1.”

When the doors opened, you were hit with a wave of heat and pure, black smoke. You began choking on the air, but Jaemin was fast acting and began to jam the “close door” button, along with the third floor button—where you’d just come from. The doors didn’t close fast enough, and the smoke began to spread into the elevator, making your eyes water and your lungs hurt. By the time the doors finally closed, there was enough smoke to keep you coughing, even if your shirt was haphazardly thrown over your mouth and nose.

The elevator began moving up, and a wave of panic blew through you. It broke through whatever invisible filter that had been causing you to feel numb for the past week or so, and a self-composed prayer fell past your lips, between coughs, over and over again: “please, go up, please, go up.”

The elevator seemed to move at a snail’s pace, but, as long as it was moving, you didn't care. Given how you’d just been up on the third floor, there was absolutely no way the fire had spread that far—the only issue was that there wasn’t exactly a staircase leading from the third floor down to the ground of the snowy outdoors.

“Someone’s setting the school on fire,” Jaemin said between coughs. “Some guy. Most everybody’s evacuated, but they apparently forgot us.”

“Maybe because they couldn’t get inside?” you shot back, feeling a wave of relief—not nearly strong enough to overpower the panic—when the “4” appeared on the screen. “Why the fuck didn’t the fire alarm go off?”

“Because this building is ancient and they’ve never thought to replace it,” Jaemin half-hissed. The doors opened to reveal a smokeless third floor, but, upon walking out, you learned the heat had reached the floor along with the scent of smoke.

“The counselor’s door is still closed,” you pointed out, not wasting a moment to begin walking that way. “They’re either still in there, or they found a way out.”

You refused to consider that they’d left and closed the door behind them, not wanting to believe you were stuck in a burning building with no way out. Suddenly, Jaemin slipped in a way that he slid, falling straight onto his back. You looked down at the floor, realizing it had been completely doused in what you could only assume was oil.

“No time to wait!” you exclaimed, bending down and grabbing Jaemin’s arm. You practically yanked him up from the floor, dragging him along with you while he stumbled trying to keep his footing. You made it to the counselor room’s door, throwing it open and rejoicing to the heavens that there was an open window.

You rushed towards it, letting go of Jaemin, who went back and slammed the door shut. You looked out of it, noticing Dr. Choi on the roof below it, helping Lim Nayeong get down to the ground. “Doctor!” you screeched, grabbing her attention. She looked up the moment Nayeong had made it to the ground, standing and turning towards you.

“Come on!” she yelled, waving her hands at you. Jaemin came up behind you, beginning to help you shove yourself through the small window in front of you. You mentally thanked him for lifting you up, allowing for you to go feet first rather than head first. You let yourself fall down to the rooftop, cringing at the pain in your ankle as you landed. You

Dr. Choi rushed towards you, looking up at Jaemin, who began to extract himself from the building as well.

“What’s going on?” you asked, coughing out more of the smoke you inhaled earlier.

“Someone’s trying to burn down the school and they started with the faculty building first,” she said, a little too calm for the situation at hand. Jaemin landed in front of her, also wincing at the pressure it put on his legs. “We need to keep going. Come on.”

Nayeong was waiting at the bottom, standing next to a teacher you’d never seen before. The ground seemed far, too far for you to be happy about it, but you were assuming the way Nayeong made it down was thanks to the bushes that would’ve cushioned her fall.

“You’re just coming down from the second story!” Nayeong yelled, reaching up at you. Dr. Choi gave you a slight push on the shoulder, to which you looked back at her like she was crazy. Jaemin didn’t wait, lowering himself to the roof. You watched as he, facing towards you, slid himself off, hanging onto the edge for a second. Nayeong rushed over, reaching up to help him safely get down to the ground.

“Kill me,” you mumbled, walking over to the edge. Slowly, you repeated Jaemin’s steps, feeling like you could barely move.

“You can do it, [First]!” Nayeong yelled, and you hoped she was holding her hands up like she had been before. You pushed yourself off, feeling the edge of the roof dig into your fingers as you began to hang off the edge. As fast as you’d begun hanging, though, two hands were on your calves, beckoning for you to let go.

So, you did. You hit the ground with a quiet crunch thanks to the snow, but an unexpected shooting pain traveled up your ankle and calf, causing you to nearly fall over into the snow. Jaemin caught you, but Nayeong looked at you, furrowing her brows.

“Are you okay?”

“I think my ankle is sprained,” you mumbled hoarsely, steadying yourself and pushing yourself away from Jaemin. You took your phone out of your pocket, staring at a wave of texts you’d received from Suhyeon, begging you to tell her you were okay and that you’d made it out. You shakily typed a short “I’m fine” before shoving your phone back into your coat.

Dr. Choi made it down from the roof, and both her and the teacher began walking in the direction of the parking lot. “Come on!” Dr. Choi yelled, leading you all away from the building that was still going up in flames. Your legs shook as the panic began to subside, and a mere glance back held an aura of complete death. The first two floors of the faculty building were covered in flames, likely not an ounce left of what once was in there.

The three students—you, Nayeong, and Jaemin—were led into Dr. Choi’s car, while the other teacher went and found his own. Jaemin sat in the front while you awkwardly sat next to Nayeong, trying to process what you had just gone through.

“I cannot believe,” Dr. Choi began, starting her car and wasting no time in flooring it out of the parking lot. As you drove out onto the street next to the school, you caught sight of a fire truck in the distance, speeding towards the school. “They didn’t even try to tell us. I thought you were gone for good, [First]. Oh my god.”

Nayeong didn’t say anything, keeping her hands in her lap and her eyes out the window. You wondered what would happen to your belongings, but you weren’t nervous about it reaching the second year building when it was on the farthest edge of campus.

Dr. Choi asked Jaemin to dial a number on her phone, to which he politely obliged. You took your phone out again, which yielded several texts from Suhyeon once again and a single text from someone else.

The moment the recipient of Dr. Choi’s call picked up, she began to scream at them, but you were easily able to drown out the yelling with your focus on the text on your phone.

“Are you okay?”

You wondered, briefly, where Jeno got your number.

“I’m fine.”

vii. zeus enslaved atlas

It took a total of two hours to arrive at the hotel in which the school evacuated all the students too, and you wondered why they had to pick a fancy hotel rather than one of the respectable ones that were actually near campus. You were met with a personal greeting from the principal, who was trying to save his ass after essentially leaving the four of you (and more, most likely) for dead.

Dr. Choi didn’t waste a second to begin screaming at him some more, but you blew past her with Nayeong, who still hadn’t spoken to you but was sticking to your side practically. There was a sort of trauma-bonding between you two now, apparently, which was a bit ironic given both of your situations.

You’d been placed in a hotel room with Suhyeon, as according to your current rooming arrangements, and were told to wait in your rooms until there was more information to be distributed amongst the students. Nayeong parted from you when this happened, taking her key and disappearing off into a corridor. You chose to take the other one, walking past several students who had disregarded the plea to stay in the rooms and were now gossiping in the halls.

“I heard they might have to close the school down for a year,” somebody whispered, causing you to pause and nearly stop walking. Instead of stopping in the middle of the hall, you slipped your phone from your pocket, leaning against a wall and scrolling through random apps.

“Seriously? I guess that won’t be an issue, most of us can just transfer to another private school, but what about international and scholarship students?”

“I’m sure international students will be fine, but rumor has it the school might drop scholarship students—partial and entire. They’re scrambling to make sure their library is still intact, and, if it isn’t, they’ll need hundreds of thousands of won to restore it. They’ll never keep some upper middle class loser if it means they can keep their pride and joy safe and sound.”

There was a certain ache in your heart at that, but you were tired, and you felt like collapsing. It was funny how, just a couple weeks ago, you were panicking over your finals and doing anything to hang onto your 65-million scholarship, but, now, you didn’t feel anything. At least if you got dropped, it wouldn’t be a quasi-expulsion. You’d still have kept your pride, and your parents could complain to the school about how they had to actually pay for you, now.

You continued through the corridor, skipping the elevator for the stairs. You’d halfway forgotten what floor you were on—you’d either been told room 314 or room 414—but you weren’t too opposed to simply checking both. Holding your key up to the scanner would be enough to know, and it was unlikely the occupants of the other room would even know you tried.

Upon your ascent up the stairs, you were forced to remember the slight pain in your ankle, which had subsided greatly over the past few hours, and part of you wished you had used the elevator. The other part of you said you’d never take an elevator again, even if a gun was to your head. Each step was a testament to what you’d experienced over the past couple of years, culminating in these fleeting moments in which you had nothing left.

In a week, you supposed your dorm would be cleaned out, and you’d be hugging Suhyeon goodbye for the last time. Maybe a reporter would approach you, ask why the closing seemed so sudden, and you would tell them you almost burnt to death because they were too lazy to fix their smoke alarms. You’d tell them that the conditions to meet your scholarship were ridiculous, not because their students were too smart, but because their student’s parents had a million personal tutors at their beck and call.

You emerged onto the third floor, hit in the face with a strong scent of detergent and cleaning supplies, and began trudging through the halls. Given the couple of familiar faces—classmates you’d never spoken to before—standing next to a decorative table, you hoped the 300s were the second year floor and you didn’t have to walk up another flight.

The space between rooms was insane, and you couldn’t imagine what might be inside. A kitchen, a couch, and an entire fireplace, anything that a rich person required in their hotel room. They were much bigger than the dorms that people paid millions to live in, and this was all paid for by the school. For a brief moment, you considered your fancy, rich-person academy to be a scam—it was, you always knew it was—and wondered why they couldn’t build dorms like this. As you walked through the corridor, you realized how you barely had made it past five rooms, and wished they had picked a normal hotel for you to temporarily live in as they figured out how to break the news of your removal from the school.

You turned a corner, admiring a pretty bouquet in a terrible intricate vase that brought a smile to your face. You stopped, reaching your hands out to feel whether or not they were real and letting out a gasp of surprise when they actually were. The flowers were vibrant, yellows and purples and pinks all tied together with a wisp of baby’s breath, and perfectly taken care of; they couldn’t have been cut more than a day ago. The hotel must’ve had some sort of private gardens, as there was no way these were bought from a random flower shop down the street.

“[First]?”

The flowers lost their color, all at once. You stood up straight, looking towards Lee Jeno, who’d just so happened to find you right now.

“Jeno.”

He stared at you for a moment, his hair messy and his roots just beginning to show. He was dressed in lounge clothes, a t-shirt and black, baggy pants that looked about three sizes too big. If he didn’t say anything soon, you’d continue your trek to room 314, brushing past him and leaving him to stare at the blank wall behind you.

“Can we talk?”

“Okay.”

You turned towards him completely, crossing your arms over your chest. He cleared his throat, looking down at the floor for a moment. “Like, not in the hallway. My room…is just down the hall.”

“All right then.”

He stared at you for a moment more, halfway shocked you agreed. Maybe it was a side effect of the events of today—for a brief moment, you realized you didn’t know what time it was—from your counseling to the hours-long car ride you endured after what was likely the most traumatic moment of your life. You wanted to disappear, fall into a rabbit hole and wake up in Wonderland, where nobody would know who you were.

When he began to walk down the hall, turning his back to you, you followed, bidding your pretty bouquet goodbye. You walked deeper into the corridor, stopping at a room labeled “309.” It was at the edge of the corridor, with another hall connecting to it. You assumed 314 was down there, so it would at least be a short trip to your assumed hotel room.

Jeno tapped his keycard on the lock, a loud click accompanied by a green light resounding through your ears. He pushed the door open, heading inside and holding it open for you. As you walked in, you noticed an unfamiliar presence on the couch—Lee Donghyuck, the only golden boy you’d met before. During your first year, you’d done a group project together, you’d let him off for not doing any of his work, and you ended up vouching for him in front of the teacher; as a result, he’d gifted you a couple of candy bars and a swift thank you. “I’ll return the favor at some point,” he’d said, walking off without another word.

“Out,” Jeno said, keeping eye contact with Donghyuck. He stared up at his friend, eyebrow raised, before glancing at you.

“‘Sup, fire girl,” he said, standing from the couch. Donghyuck turned his attention to Jeno, giving him a stern, very-unlike-him glare. “You promised me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“Do you?”

With that, Donghyuck brushed past Jeno and you, emerging out into the corridor. The door slammed behind him, causing you to flinch somewhat. Jeno took a seat on the couch, right where Donghyuck was sitting, and motioned to the seat next to him. You obliged, sitting as far away from him as you possibly could and staring at him until he spoke.

“Are you doing okay?”

“No.”

“I’m…sorry you got left behind. I won’t lie, Suhyeon started crying so hard she needed to take her own car, and that worried me. A lot. I thought about things.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, looking down at his hands. “I wasn’t nice. I overreacted and was overly jealous. It’s my fault, so I apologize.”

“I understand,” you nodded. “If it’s any consolation, I’m jealous of you too.”

You leaned back into the couch, sighing. “Your family is so…picture perfect,” you began, trying to find the words to articulate your thoughts. “Sure, you have altercations, peculiar ones at that, but I could tell you were close. From the way you hugged Yeojin, to the way your mother looked at you…you’re living a dream I could only hope to have one day.”

He stayed silent, letting you talk. You figured you deserved as much, given how your day has been. “My parents are awful. I was the kid they didn’t want, and all my siblings are a lot older than me. As your dad said, one of them ended up in jail. I depend on this school to keep me away from them, so I can have a better life now rather than when I move out. Even then, I know they’ll harass me forever if I end up with a nice job with good money. You’ll never experience that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, but you shook your head, rejecting it.

“No reason to be. I can’t change who my family is, but I can change the direction my life goes. That’s all that matters.”

You felt Jeno’s eyes on you, and, when you looked over, you found him looking at you. He was pretty, as he’d always been, even when he was dressed for bed. His hair fell into his eyes, and you mentally visualized him with black hair—he looked nice no matter what.

“You’re a very beautiful person, [First].” The comment brought heat to your cheeks and caused your heart to skip a beat, and you contemplated whether or not this was what Dr. Choi meant by not rejecting him. “If…if there’s any way, I’d like to make this work. I’d like to make us work.”

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “I suppose that would be nice. I was unreasonable before, mostly because I don’t want people lessening my achievements because of who my soulmate is. Sorry.”

“I get it. My mom always told me that would happen if my soulmate ended up to be somebody ‘fiery,’ but I guess you aren’t really that,” he hummed. “You’re nice. Warm. I see why people speak so kindly about you.”

“Well…thanks. I guess.”

You looked forward, and a thought crossed your mind. Your heart dropped slightly as you deliberated whether or not it would be smart to tell him what you heard in the halls. Realizing that you’d likely be very far away from him if it ended up to be true, you knew that you absolutely had to if you wanted to create a relationship with your soulmate.

“Rumor has it the school’s gonna be canceling scholarships to bring more money in for repairs and reconstruction.”

“What? They wouldn’t cancel yours, right? I mean, you’re the only full-scholarship on campus—they can’t just kick you, can they?” he asked, scooting a bit closer to you unconsciously.

“Rumor says they’re going to cancel everybody’s scholarships,” you whispered, suddenly realizing the weight of that statement. “I’ll probably try to move in with my aunt in Seoul, go to fancy-yet-free prep school…if they do cancel it. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be around.”

Jeno went quiet, and you desperately held back the tears that were now pooling in your eyes. “I worked so hard for this, and it’ll all go to waste. Every bit of it.”

You hated how choked up you got at the thought of it, how pathetic you felt. But, Jeno didn’t seem to mind, as he hesitantly pulled you into a hug. For a moment, you both stayed there, basking in the fulfillment that came with being with your soulmate. You wondered if this is how your parents were before they grew into the monsters they were today—a couple of teenagers in love, happy with just being with one another.

“It’s okay,” he said, rubbing your back softly. “We’ll get through it together. I’ll spend any amount of money to see you frequently, I’ll get out of class, whatever we need to build. I’d pay for your tuition, but…I don’t think you’d like that.”

“Not really, no,” you mumbled, shoving your head into the crook of his neck. “I just want to feel stable, for once in my life.”

“And you will, one day. I promise you will.”

You pulled away from him, staring at him for a moment. With a heavy sigh, you stood up, with him following close behind you. “I need to go see Suhyeon,” you said. The moment you said that, there was a sudden change in the air of the room—Jeno looked nervous, almost, as if you’d caught him in the act of something. “Go do that. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.”

You walked towards the door, giving Jeno one last look before emerging into the hall. You made sure to stop the door from slamming behind you, cushioning it with your hands. As you did, though, Lee Donghyuck appeared back in the hall, stopping when he saw you. The door clicked closed, and you both stared at each other, waiting for someone to speak.

He was wearing his uniform, but it was half taken apart, with a couple of his buttons unbuttoned and his tie loosened around his neck. His shirt was untucked and his blazer was nowhere to be found, and you assumed he’d done it pretty recently, given the lack of wrinkling. He held a bag of M&Ms that he likely got from a vending machine somewhere in the hotel.

“Did he tell you?”

“You mean apologize? Yeah.”

Donghyuck sighed, popping a couple M&Ms in his mouth. “Okay, don’t get mad at me for being the bearer of bad news. Jaemin was convinced Jeno shouldn’t tell you, but this might be the one time Jaemin is in the wrong. I know you’ve had the worst day of all worst days, but you cannot go any farther without knowing this. ‘Kay?”

You furrowed your brows, a sudden feeling of anxiety overtaking you. “What? What are you talking about?”

Even Donghyuck looked nervous, from how he fiddled with the hem of his shirt with his open hand to the way he shifted his weight between his feet.

“Until about six months ago, Suhyeon and Jeno were a thing.”

All the air was sucked out of your lungs at once, and your brain shut down immediately.

“She found out you two were soulmates about a year ago, but didn’t back down until Jeno’s dad shut it down because of his new deal with Nayeong’s family.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “They still talked until a month-and-a-half ago, when Jeno decided to shut it down himself. Chenle knocked some sense into him, and Suhyeon was essentially taken out of our circle. She did everything in her power to not let you know about her friendship with us, and avoided the shit out of us whenever you were around. When pale in the face and all that shit.”

You stayed quiet. A feeling of betrayal began to bubble in your stomach.

“Don’t…blame her or anything, though. Even if she was being an asshole, even if what she did was the worst possible thing she could’ve done, she and Jeno had been fostering it for nearly three years. Love—if you could even call it that—makes people stupid. She wasn’t thinking, and neither was Jeno, until Chenle snapped at him.”

Were you a rebound, or a way for him to stay close to Suhyeon without his dad knowing? Were you his way of getting over what you had stolen from him? How could Suhyeon do this to you, after forcing her fixation with soulmates on you for so long?

You turned away from the corner that you assume led to yours and Suhyeon’s room, walking past Donghyuck with a newfound speed. You wracked your mind for her room number, assuming that she must’ve been in 414 given the likely year-separation of the floors.

You heard Donghyuck’s voice echo through the halls, a quiet “what the fuck is wrong with you, man?” and the loud slamming of his hotel door. You followed it up by yanking the door to the stairs open, letting it fly shut behind you as you began a rapid ascent. You ignored the pain in your ankle, the way your legs wanted to shut down, and practically burst onto the fourth floor.

You followed the same path you had before, and, sure enough, the corridors followed the same pattern. You took turn after turn, saw identical-bouquet after identical-bouquet, before stopping in front of room 414.

Three swift knocks, and a step back.

The door opened.

“[First]?” Nayeong said, furrowing her brows. Traces of crying were left on her face, from mascara-lined tear stains to red cheeks and puffy eyes. Seeing her ignited something in you, an intense sort of emotion that you hadn’t felt in so, so long.

And, as you burst out into tears, Nayeong dragged you into a hug and began sobbing with you.

viii. to hold up the earth on his shoulders for all eternity.

The dress you were wearing was absolutely, irrevocably uncomfortable.

Several hidden wires dug into your torso, a product of the bodice of the thing, and you swore you were bleeding in an area where the fabric rubbed against you wrong. Nevertheless, you wore it proudly, hair done up and makeup perfectly complimenting your features. After all, it wasn’t every day you got to attend the wedding of your soulmate—to someone other than you, that is.

Lee Donghyuck sat next to you, dressed in a matching suit to your dress and his leg crossed over the other. A toothpick hung out of his mouth, and he anxiously chewed on it, tapping his fingers against his knee as he waited. You’d both come in support of the couple and to try and masquerade as a couple to Jeno’s father, who was apparently very displeased when he saw your name on the invite list.

“Nayeong told me she’s considering eloping with her girlfriend,” you hummed, once again adjusting your sitting position so that your dress stopped trying to kill you. “Disappearing into a small, European country. Changing her name and getting married. Apparently, her girlfriend has the tickets bought and everything.”

“And why doesn’t she?”

“She doesn’t want to force the marriage-of-convenience role onto her sister,” you sighed, shaking your head. “What a superhero she is.”

“You know, if you’d had another year at the academy, you probably would be the bride here,” Donghyuck suggested, turning towards you. You received a glare from the woman sitting a couple seats to your left, who then whispered something to her husband.

“Not so loud. We’re gonna get kicked out.”

“I’m not lying, though. Since Jaemin nearly beat me up, I’ve never been yelled at more in my life—I had to help Jeno with his comeback plan. We got it done and then we went to Suhyeon’s room and you weren’t there and she looked at Jeno like he was satan’s incarnate.”

“Suhyeon and I weren’t going to last as friends anyway. Too different. We clung to each other too much, too. Recipe for disaster.”

“Right? Anyway, if the school hadn’t been so quick to decide to cut you off, you’d be the bride. Hundred percent.”

“Where is Jaemin, anyway?” you asked, cutting the conversation topic short. According to Nayeong’s perfectly curated seating chart, he was meant to be sitting next to you right now, blabbing away about how Donghyuck ruined Jeno’s one chance at happiness by telling you about Suhyeon rather than letting Jeno do it.

“Jaemin is right here,” he said, taking the seat next to you. You and Donghyuck looked over at him, instantly picking up on the panickedness he seemed to be exuding. “And nobody can find the bride and groom. Jeno’s dad is on a warpath right now, along with Nayeong’s mother.”

“Ooh, Europe worked out,” you joked, holding up your fist. Donghyuck bumped yours against his, chuckling as well.

“Made me call him a million times, and he didn’t pick up. I suggested getting you to call Nayeong, but they looked so appalled at the suggestion that I could’ve told them I was in love with Jeno and we got married in Vegas last night.”

“That was descriptive. Did you?”

Jaemin scoffed, not getting a straight answer. Instead, he tucked his phone in his blazer pocket, focusing on you. “Nayeong’s probably on the plane by now, but we don’t know where Jeno is.”

“Okay. And?”

“He’s suggesting you should go find him, dumbshit,” Donghyuck clarified, flicking your shoulder. You put your hand on it, pretending like he’d just stabbed you in the arm, but Jaemin quickly slapped your shoulder to avoid you causing a bit of a scene.

“I don’t even know his number. Deleted it from my phone about twenty minutes after Donghyuck broke the Jesu news to me.”

Donghyuck snorted, leaning back into his chair. In passing, he said, “No way you gave them a ship name,” but Jaemin ignored his comment pretty readily.

“Good news! I have it memorized. Give me your phone.”

Jaemin didn’t wait for you to hand it to him, simply snatching it up off your lap and unlocking it (you weren’t sure where he got the password, but you wouldn’t question it). He began typing what you assumed to be his phone number without even thinking about it.

“You sure you didn’t get married in Vegas?”

“Positive,” Jaemin said, handing the phone back to you. He scooped up your purse from the ground, shoving it into your arms and proceeding to point towards a set of doors off to the side of the banquet hall. “Go out there and down the hall. Door at the end goes to the back parking lot, where Jeno parked earlier. He’s either out there or waiting for someone worth it to call him, and someone worth it would be you.”

“And what am I gonna say?”

“I don’t know,” Jaemin said, acting like you’d asked him the most insane question in the world. “Figure it out yourself. Update me. Hyuck and I will hold down the fort until we hear from you.”

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to focus on you for a moment. A part of you wished you’d faded into oblivion after high school; being who you were, your merit reached about every end of the world. You lived in an academic spotlight, gaining the attention of universities both near and far. Jeno never came to visit you at your aunt’s house like he had shallowly promised, right before he missed his one chance to tell you the truth.

You stood up, and began your power walk to the door. Now that his fiancé was on her way to a small, European country and likely had all the assets she needed to become untraceable, Jeno would have to deal with the wrath of his father, who would feed him the same “I’m not mad, just disappointed” spiel.

You pushed the door open, hanging your bag off your shoulder and wishing your dress wasn’t so uncomfortable. Sure enough, a text came in from Nayeong—a selfie of her and her girlfriend, whom you had never met, in a plane. She was still fully prepared for marriage, only missing the wedding dress; her hair was perfectly done, the tiara was still there, and her makeup was untouched. Her girlfriend looked much more relaxed, makeupless and hair spread about.

They looked happy. So, as a result, you were happy, and could only hope she would tell you which small, European country she was living in so you could visit. Another text came in, this one from your mother, but you ignored it and continued out into the parking lot.

There was only one car that was running, and it was parked in a corner. It was black and the windows were tinted to high heaven, and you could only assume that would be where the missing groom was. You marched through the parking lot, repeating a mantra of self-support in your mind. This was one of those situations where you should’ve been anxious, but you couldn’t feel a thing; you’d grown used to not feeling anything over the years, but, in situations like these, it always felt uncomfortable.

You stopped a little bit before the car, making sure you were out of sight. You stared for a moment, blinking a couple of times and trying to muster up any sort of anxiety, but you could only manage a small kick in the bottom of your stomach. With a sigh, you approached.

You opened the car door, which was shockingly unlocked, and got into the passenger’s seat. Jeno didn’t turn to look at you, just drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and staring forward. “Can you take me to my apartment? If the wedding isn’t happening, I don’t want to sit in this dress any longer.”

He didn’t waste a moment to put the car in reverse, backing out of the spot with ease. He put a hand on the back of your seat, turning his whole body to look out of the back window even though he had one of those backup cameras. You wondered if he was trying to impress you, but found it unlikely given how unhappy he seemed.

When he managed to back out completely and was forced to turn his focus to the road, you took the chance to give him a once-over. You hadn’t seen Jeno since a banquet two years ago, where you’d been invited after one of your professors insisted you had to share your paper. You’d mingled with people in much higher places than you, smiling and discussing things you didn't care about, barely speaking about your academic ventures. Jeno had been there, too, hanging off Nayeong’s arm like he’d once done to you. They spent the whole night gossiping, sitting together and whispering about things you couldn’t imagine. Back then, when he was 20 years old, his hair had still been blonde and he had still carried that gold boy demeanor he loved so much. Now, his hair was pitch black, and he gave off the energy of someone who was completely and utterly in control of his life.

Judging by the way he blatantly ignored the people who’d begun running after his car, you assumed the energy mirrored the truth. He turned out onto the street, speeding away from the banquet hall that had a million cars around it. “Lots of presents oughta be returned tonight, huh,” you mused, adjusting your sit once again. “I bet it’s annoying and relieving all at once.”

“My dad’s gonna blame this all on me,” he sighed, continuing to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. “Where do you live?”

“Trimage Towers. Anyway, he can’t blame it all on you if Nayeong’s a lesbian. I mean, it’s not like you had any jurisdiction over that.”

Jeno hesitated for a moment, slowing down for a red light. Thanks to the location of the fancy banquet hall, the towers were already in sight, and you could practically feel the relief of taking this awful dress off.

“You really can’t feel anything, huh.”

“I can feel things, just not a lot. I’d be able to feel things if you would’ve gotten over me,” you hummed, looking out the passenger window. “I’m serious, Jeno. Find a new girl. Pick her over me. We will both be happier that way.”

“So you’re rejecting me over a relationship that started when I was in middle school?” he asked, and, at that moment, you understood it was a bit ridiculous. You were sure you’d see it in a more intuitive way had you retained your emotions, but such was the price of rejecting one’s other half.

“I don’t know. I haven’t felt anything since then. I’m content with it now, so I don’t really feel like I can love anyone. Make a decision based on love. Who knows,” you replied, feeling your phone buzz. You picked it up—another text from your mom. This time, though, she called you a couple of names for ignoring her texts and not sending her any money.

Jeno suddenly took a sharp turn, pulling into an empty parking lot next to an office building, which you assumed to be empty because it was Saturday. He pulled around to the back, parking in a spot next to a few trees. It was well hidden, likely a tactic for avoiding anyone chasing him.

“What can I do to fix it?” he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’m serious. I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

The slightest bit of sympathy graced your heart, but not enough to change anything. You sighed, looking up at the ceiling of the car. “Not sure.”

“What, should I confess my love to you?” he asked, which caught your attention. You looked over, biting the edge of your lip. “I barely know you, [First], yet I am deeply in love with you. Every time I hear something about you from Nayeong, or from Donghyuck, or from Jaemin, I feel the most intense regret that I decided to ignore Donghyuck’s advice and trust Jaemin more. All I could tell you about yourself are things everyone else knows and whatever my friends have told me, yet I’d still pick you over anybody else.”

Your heart sped up, but you still felt numb to the world. Maybe Dr. Choi had been right—maybe it wasn’t worth it to lose all feeling when you were 17. Maybe, if things had gone better, you would have been the bride today.

“Okay.”

“Is there any way? Any way at all that we could try? I know I’ve asked before, and I was disingenuous then, but I’m not a kid anymore. Neither are you. Things could be different.”

“Could they?” you finally bit into the conversation, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “I just—I can’t comprehend it. I’m a work machine. I walk into the office and stay for hours, reviewing my coworker’s pieces and writing my own based on what I’m given. I’m told that one day, I’ll be one of the greats of journalism thanks to my ability to work until I give out. Will that go away if I let this happen? Will I lose opportunity if I let myself love? I’m not really sure.”

“What makes you think that?” Jeno shot back. “What makes you think a little emotion would destroy your career?”

“Most, if not all of my superiors are soulmate-less or have purposefully gone out of their way to reject their soulmates. It’s standard.”

“You can break the standard, then.”

A bit of anger began to bubble in your stomach. “Could I? I already have it worse by having absolutely no nepotism to back me up, and I’ve got a world of expectation on me based on how I graduated at the top of everything, in every year of schooling I’ve ever had. I have a bad family to keep under wraps, and I have to pay them off to keep them quiet. I can’t afford to be pushing any stereotypes when I’ve got a million other things to work through.”

“I can be your credible, important connection, then. How easy is that?”

“I’d rather die than be a nepotism baby.”

“Then what are you looking for?” “Nothing, Jeno! I’m looking for nothing!” you finally exclaimed, the anger bubbling over the top. “I’m looking to leave this behind us and separate ourselves from each other! I’d rather die than keep living a life that orbits around you! I just—I just want to be myself.”

“Then I’ll orbit around you. I’ll stay out of it and I’ll treat your every beck and call—”

“Shut up, Jeno.”

“I’ll be the one who’s connected to you. I won’t be Lee Jeno, son of that one guy who got to live easy because of his grandfather’s work—”

“Jeno, please.”

“And I’ll dedicate my everything to you, master journalist, the most goddamn successful person in the world, all thanks to herself—”

You’re unsure what came over you at that moment. In your fit of anger, wanting Jeno to just shut up, you grabbed the sides of his face, and you kissed him. There was a moment where you couldn’t believe yourself, where you truly thought you’d open your eyes and be back in the banquet hall, discussing where Jaemin was with Donghyuck. In that moment, Jeno would walk out, make his way to the altar, and Nayeong would follow.

They would look miserable. You would know they were miserable. You would know you could’ve prevented their misery. You’d feel nothing. You’d go home, Donghyuck driving you, and you’d go to bed, ready to go into work the next day.

One opening of your eyes revealed to you that you were, in fact, kissing Lee Jeno. He didn’t seem to mind the suddenness of it—obviously—reaching over the center console to lace his fingers into your perfectly wavy hair. He smiled into the kiss, as if he was the most satisfied man in the world, as if he was the only man in the world.

You closed them again, and felt fireworks burst within you. Although they hadn’t returned like you thought they would, you felt a mixture of very mellow emotions pooling in your stomach, and you realized maybe Jeno, Jaemin, and Donghyuck had a plot.

You pulled away from him, dropping your hands from his face. He did not try to separate himself from you, though, waiting for you to recite the words he’d be wanting you to recite. “An academic article by psychologist Kim Sowol. The best way to incite emotion in someone who’s rejected their soulmate is to anger them.”

He dropped his hands now, too, laying them on top of yours. “Nayeong sent it to me.”

You stayed quiet, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate you. Never speak to me again.”

Jeno put his hands back on the wheel, reversing the car once more and taking you back out onto the road. “Yeah, okay. Next stop, your apartment. Text Jaemin that it worked for me, would you?”

You scoffed. “No. Shut up.”

“Your wish is my command, my dear.”

thank you for reading!

tags:

@dziewoja07 @pewpewpwe00 @mings-cafe @yutensoul @iioyous @shepeelsoranges @loeycity @misakiise @000rpheus @eunbi4eva @jenonoon @travelleratheart101 @hesbambi @minchoco @swagzombiefart @eunbi4eva @wonluvrbot

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slightlymore · 1 year

Text

death of peace of mind

train conductor haechan x fem reader

genre: magiccore/miyazaki/tim burton, broad industrial revolution/victorian setting, romance, soulmates au, enemies (?) to lovers, !!slow burn!!, angst, smut, multiperspective

warnings and content: +18, explicit sexual content, virgin reader, fingering, unprotected, nipple play, biting, some level of corruption, sexual tension, oral fem receiving, hand job, pet names (darling, love, baby, my girl, my lady) and titles (Sir, Miss), begging, praise, spanking, sexual tension, gentlemanly and lady-like behaviour etc etc

words: 19k

other characters: mark as reader's friend, jeno for a moment, johnny mentioned

synopsis: The Train. That's where your parents met a few years before you were born and that's where your grandparents met as well as their parents before that. Oh to be grown and travel on the Train as well, meeting your soulmate and falling so madly in love that you'd become consumed by it. And there you were years later, your only travel case in your hand and your best dress on, standing in the Train Station at exactly 1:05am on the 1st of May. You looked up and let the night sky calm you down and when you looked back in front of you, the train was there. What were you supposed to do now? But then one door opened, engulfing you with the freshest flowery scent. The most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life descended and tilted his hat lifting one gloved hand to guide you inside. "Welcome aboard, Miss."

for the lovers of dream sorter haechan

__________

When the curtains call the time

Will we both go home alive?

It wasn't hard to realize

Love's the death of peace of mind

The Train.

That's where your parents met a few years before you were born and that's where your grandparents met as well as their parents before that.

The tales of those encounters enriched your childhood and your fragile dreams. Oh, to be grown and travel on the Train as well, meeting your soulmate and falling so madly in love that you'd become consumed by it.

You’ve always desired it. You’ve always longed for it.

The teachers would get shiny eyes and beaming smiles on May 1st. You remembered the first time it happened. The air felt different and the town felt more alive than usual.

"Today is a special day for all of us," your parents also smiled at the breakfast table. They looked almost shy and they exchanged gazes they would usually let themselves have in a more private moment.

You were in your first year of elementary school but from what you could understand, that day sounded like a big deal for the adults and it started to be a big deal for you as well.

"This is the day when people go on a Journey to find their soulmate," the teacher repeated what you've already heard at home.

The Train, the children would whisper, the giddiness in their voices making you almost escape your skin with excitement.

"Can we go and see it?" you asked with your heart in your throat from the emotion. You really wanted to see all the young adults go to the Train Station and embark.

The teacher smiled as if that was the most common question asked. "Unfortunately, it's a very private moment. But when you're ready, you will finally see the Train and you will find the love of your life during the Journey."

You were an only child so besides your parents' tale of how starstruck they both felt upon seeing each other on the Train, you had no other immediate example of how the experience would go.

"My brother Johnny said the place they ended up in is way more gorgeous than our town," one of your classmates and your best friend said one time. "But not as gorgeous as his partner, he said,” making a throwing-up motion with his fingers.

A choir of grossed out children made you giggle at the time and you joined them, but deep inside you knew that it was indeed possible to meet a person more gorgeous than the most gorgeous place on earth.

You wanted that. You desperately wanted that.

Your parents also said their towns of origin weren't as beautiful as the one you were living in and although you could objectively see it was decently cute and cozy you were sure they felt that way because of the rosy love glasses.

"Why do I have to leave this place when I find my soulmate?" you wondered one time as you were growing older and having more and more thoughts about the Journey.

Your mom patted your head. "When you find the love of your life the Train stops and lets you both off. The couple has to live in the place they ended up in."

"What if I want to come home?" you argued.

"Your partner will be your home," your dad explained with a fond smile. "We will see each other often the way you see all of your grandparents. Don't worry about missing us."

"Also it is too soon for you to think so deeply about it," your mom chuckled, pulling at your cheek.

Yet, there you were years later, your only suitcase in your hand, which you bought for the occasion, and your best dress on, standing in the Train Station and feeling like the too soon came, well, too soon.

Your mom helped you put on some makeup as well that day and you had to admit you were feeling pretty cute.

But oh so anxious.

You couldn’t believe you were about to initiate the Journey on the Train. Thoughts of how your soulmate looked like adorned your mind since you could remember but in the latest months you found yourself fantasizing about them more and more.

But with the pretty thoughts, some thoughts of doom would send rocks to your mind as well feeding your anxiety even further.

The mixed emotions made you uneasy.

"What if there's no soulmate for me?" you looked yourself in the mirror as your mom finished her last touches on your hair.

"Nonsense," she reassured you.

"But has it happened before?" you insisted.

She sighed. "Yes but it's very rare. What happens, in that case, is that you need to come back home and you need to go on the Journey the following year."

"And are there people who went on for many years and they met no one?"

"Not as far as I know. Everyone met someone sooner or later. Your grandma met your grandpa after 3 years."

You exhaled. Maybe you'd just go on a little train ride and come home before sunset.

Maybe you'll also need 3 years.

Maybe no one would fall in love with you ever.

You expected the Station to be full of people but it was completely empty.

"Don't worry about it. The Station doesn't let you see your friends until you're all on."

You bit your lower lip and waited. There was no moon on the sky and the stars were very visible.

You looked up and let the night sky calm you down and when you looked back in front of you, the Train was there.

"Heavens," you swallowed the little surprising gasp and looked to your right then left feeling your breath accelerate. You didn’t hear it arrive.

What were you supposed to do now? Was it supposed to feel this ominous?

But then one door opened with a slow hiss, engulfing you with the freshest flowery scent.

The most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life descended and tilted his hat lifting one gloved hand to guide you inside.

"Welcome aboard, Miss."

His hair was black and a bit longer in the back. Your father would have said it looked a bit messy; he’d probably offer some gel and suggested him to comb it backwards. But the man wore it so well that you found yourself thinking how it would feel like to pass your hand through it and mess it up even further.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly. Then you cleared your throat and tried again.

The man’s face was a polite mask, not one muscle of his perfect face twitching or moving. On the contrary, you felt your face in flames as you walked near him to enter the wagon.

“Please, choose the coach you’re most attracted to,” you heard his voice behind you. The fresh flowery perfume followed you both and you realized it was his scent. Taking a few steps forward you found yourself shaking ever so slightly.

“Who are you?” you turned around before having a chance to look down the dark but cosily illuminated wooden corridor of the train.

His chest was so close that you could see the little silvery tag on it. Conductor.

Then you took a step back not realizing how close he was.

“I apologize for not having introduced myself earlier. I am the Conductor, Miss,” he simply replied. “I’ll be around the Train if you need me. Also, if you ring the bell you’ll find in every wagon."

His eyes were a dark shade of marine blue, you realized, like the ocean during a storm, when you can’t distinguish between the water and the sky.

Your grandpa told you many tales of his life at sea. He used to say it was the most beautiful and terrifying thing, and at the time you didn’t understand how something scary could be beautiful, but that man’s eyes made a shiver go down your spine yet you didn’t want him to stop looking at you.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I'll leave you to get comfortable,” he tilted his hat again, making a shadow appear over his eyes, as if reading your mind and seeing your fascination with them.

You gave him a little bow as well, as your mother has been teaching you it was polite to do when meeting gentlemen, then you stared at the way he turned around and took the opposite direction in the tight corridor. His shoulders almost touched the walls when he walked and his legs looked extremely long in his black uniform.

The coach you chose was the first on your left, a luxurious dark brown space, with deep bordeaux seats which you realized were softer than any other material you’ve ever felt before. You placed your suitcase on the designated space and sat down, looking at the windows showing your town’s Train Station, then you inhaled and exhaled looking down at your dress and rubbing your lace-gloved hands together.

What were you supposed to do?

Would your soulmate come barging in your coach?

Would you meet over breakfast in the morning?

Why were you all supposed to go at exactly 1:05am?

You suppressed a yawn wondering where you were expected to sleep, then with the corner of your eye you noticed the curtains slowly close and you gasped feeling the train depart at the same time.

Your older cousins liked to joke about ghosts roaming around the Train but you thought you were grown already to believe such things. Yet, the movement felt uncanny and you were so on edge that you haven’t realized you were squished against one of the seats’ corners until a ding made you scream.

On the little table a small card boarded with gold appeared out of thin air.

“Dear Miss, you are invited for Breakfast in the Dining Car. Please turn the card around for the Train map. My warmest regards, the Conductor”

You touched the paper with your fingertip as if it were a poisonous snake and the ink smudged a bit as if it has been freshly written.

Breakfast? At 1am? Maybe he meant tomorrow morning?

You turned the card around as instructed and the display for the train was illustrated. A little “you are here” red mark told you that your wagon was the one in the middle of the train.

You wondered how did the Conductor know you chose that specific coach when he left you just a few minutes prior and didn’t even check back.

The Dining car was towards the head of the train, the direction in which the Conductor walked, and the name Steam Locomotive adorned the first car. You wondered if he was in there or if his coach was one of the wagons close by.

The train was moving swiftly so it wasn’t bothering you as you thought it would. The closed curtains made you sad that you couldn’t see the scenery so you got up and extended your hand towards them, trying to perhaps see the machinery through which they were able to close on their own.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice made you jump in place.

“Mark!” you turned around and walked the few steps towards the door to hug a very dumbfounded young man.

“Hey, hey, you okay?” he awkwardly stood there even after you retrieved your arms from his neck and stared him up and down.

“I was so scared to be alone. It’s good to see your face,” you explained.

Johnny’s younger brother has been your best friend and the one you spoke about the Train Journey the most growing up. You were still ashamed to remember the way you cried for the whole night the time Mark told you his brother hasn’t come home from the Journey because he has found his soulmate. You had a very intense childhood crush on him.

“I get it,” he smiled then his eyes went down to eye your dress, then up, noticing your prettily arranged hair and makeup.

Then he sighed, almost disappointed.

Without realizing you touched your cheek. Did he think you were ugly?

“What?” you blinked at him.

Mark shook his head. “I just-,” he started then interrupted himself, a bright dust of red moving in towards his cheeks and ears. “I thought that maybe you could be- you know-sometimes it happens that even friends-”

You blinked at him then you felt your own face on fire. “Oh,” you realized what he wanted to say. The scarf you tied around your neck made it difficult for you to breathe.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his head. “I guess we’re not soulmates. That, of course, if you didn’t feel anything in particular either.”

“I felt relief,” you said.

Mark nodded, agreeing with you. “I was also just glad to see a friend.”

Was he disappointed you weren’t his soulmate? Or was he happy it wasn’t you?

“Same.”

The following silence made him clear his voice once then his eyes fell on the card in your hands.

“Oh, I got one too. I was wondering if it was a prank inviting me over for breakfast. I was going towards the Dining Car to at least check it out.”

“Right? I thought I was the one misunderstanding the invite,” you chuckled. “I’ll come with you now if you don't mind.”

Mark took a few steps back to let you exit the coach and his eyes fell on the window again. “My parents said that if you open the curtains when the train is moving you’ll be forced to descend in the first place you see. Alone. Without the possibility to return on the Train ever again.”

A shiver ran down your body at his words.

“There’s also a warning,” he indicated with his chin.

You followed the direction and noticed the golden plate near the curtains.

You could have sworn it wasn’t there before.

_________

The corridor was gorgeously decorated with fresh flowers and paintings. You and Mark took your time to peek into most of the coaches too, giggling a bit when you noticed some of their residents weren’t alone.

“How long do you think it takes for people to meet everyone on the train?” Mark asked, impressed that some were already coupled.

You thought about it. “The train stops in every town, doesn’t it? There's so many people. I feel like even a few weeks."

Mark winced. “That’s a long time. My parents met within 15 minutes of boarding. They had neighbouring coaches.”

“My parents met after a few days,” you recalled. “My maternal grandparents met after three years of trying.”

Your friend hummed. “That’s hard. I’d be losing hope.”

You swallowed the dry lump. “That’s a bit scary, yes.”

You didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid you might end up just like them.

The Entertainment wagons were about five, and you both held your breaths when entering the first as it was roaming with people. The strangers’ faces turned towards you both with inquisitive eyes, as if checking if one of you were their soulmate.

You bit your lower lip taking a few steps inside.

“What exactly do you think we need to feel when meeting the one?” you whispered as some people sighed and turned around, sign you weren’t interesting.

“No clue. But it has to be something,” Mark answered. “Maybe a sharp feeling. Awe. Even fear?”

“Fear? Why would I be afraid if I meet my soulmate?” you both walked slowly, staring at the board games people were playing.

Mark hummed. “Not actual fear. More so like the fear you get right before sliding down with a sleigh. It’s scary but you know it will feel very nice.”

The example made you chuckle and it broke some of the tension you were feeling. Then his words actually arrived to your brain.

Like the fear before sliding down with a sleigh…

…or the fear when you see a sea storm.

You shook your head and exited the coach to enter the rest.

_________

“I can’t believe there’s actual breakfast,” Mark repeated for the third time already, cheeks full with eggs and bacon.

You giggled, impressed by your own appetite so late at night. Or early in the morning?

“The train has different time zones than your town of origin,” a voice explained.

The scent came first and it froze you in place, the piece of banana you were about to devour still in mid-air.

Mark lifted his gaze to the side and greeted the voice.

“I hope everything is to your liking,” the Conductor added. When you put the banana down on your plate and looked up, he was already looking at you. His stormy eyes were slightly squeezed in an attempt to look polite. His uniform looked impeccable as usual and with his hands clasped behind his back his chest popped underneath it.

You forced yourself to look away.

“Yes, thank you. The train is gorgeous,” you said.

The Conductor smiled a bit more. “And I hope this is a congratulatory meal?” he asked, looking at Mark for a moment as well, who furrowed his eyebrows.

“Oh,” you shook your hands, realizing what he meant. “No no, it’s not like that.”

“We’re just friends,” Mark butt in, a bit scandalized.

You nodded fervently. “Classmates. From the same town.”

“Yes. Our coaches are close-by and we just found each other.”

The Conductor listened to one then the other, looking at both of you intermittently with his everlasting smile. “Well, then. I’m glad you enjoy each other’s company. I wish for you to find your soulmate when the time comes as well.”

You and Mark both thanked him and watched the Conductor bow enough for his eyes to get the same shadow you saw the first time you met him.

But he lifted his gaze to look at you this time. Slowly, letting his long lashes fan on his cheeks for a moment.

The pupils were very deep and you imagined yourself drowning in the almost black blue of his irises.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and look at his back as he walked away to greet other passengers.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to reach and grab the fork because your hands were tightly clasped together on your lap to hide how badly they were shaking.

_________

On your way back Mark got welcomed by his male friend group in the third Entertainment wagon. Some of them had new faces around and from their shy gazes, you assumed they met their partners already. Some were alone and in the mood to party.

Mark invited you to stay but you decided to go back to your coach and have some rest.

You wished to be able to party like Mark did. In the end, for him that was also a well deserved holiday after spending most of his days helping his father with the lands. Many thought the same and not everyone wanted to go on the Journey to meet an actual soulmate. For a lot of people it was a nice break from studying or work and that was it.

But you felt uneasy to be that free-spirited, and you needed time alone to understand what was going on. After all, you’ve been day dreaming about the Journey and the Train your whole life. And now that the desired moment arrived there was something off about it all.

And you couldn’t point it out.

You’ve never felt more relieved to enter your coach and see a fluffy small bed in one of the seats’ places. You sat on it and you also found it very comfortable. How it got there you had no idea and by that time you decided to stop asking yourself questions on how that Train actually worked.

The spring dress you chose for yourself was easy to slip into but quite hard to undo, you realized, grunting a few times as you tried to untie the light corset. When you managed to open it you exhaled deeply and you let it fall to your feet.

Then your eyes darted towards the warning sign near the window as you slowly got under the covers.

Curiosity killed the cat but you really wanted to know what was behind those curtains and why you weren’t allowed to know.

Before you could realize that you didn’t brush your teeth or wash your face, the train stopped and you opened your eyes in the silence.

“Thank you for traveling with us. I wish you happiness,” the Conductor’s voice was muffled outside your window and you remembered your coach was the first near the main train entrance.

Did someone already get off as a couple? Or was that someone who looked outside and was now forced to live alone?

You walked slowly and stealthy and you were about to turn the corner to where the entrance you came in was when the voices stopped you in place.

They were many, perhaps six different ones, thanking the Conductor and chatting away, making already plans for the future. Imagining you in their place gave you anxiety - after all they all met a few hours ago and already thought of getting married - but you were also glad they were all soulmate couples and not any forsaken person who went against the rules.

Somehow, you also felt a but envious that it has been that quick and smooth for them.

The Conductor’s back was towards you and you looked at his long fingers behind his back as he greeted the people away. His white gloves covered them and for some reason you wondered how they looked like naked. His waist was visibly smaller than his shoulders and the spine line descended so beautifully that you felt the urge to draw him, although you were no artist.

You shook your head trying to get rid of thouse thoughts and realized that in the meantime the chatter died down as the passengers walked towards the Station.

The Conductor was still outside, probably seeing them away for good before departing, and his scent was slowly engulfing you the more you remained in his presence.

You swallowed. How could a man smell that good?

Then you realized you had a full-on view of the Station so you squatted down behind the corner and tried to make sense of what was outside. That was your only chance, you figured.

“You know that’s forbidden, right?” the man’s smooth voice made you jolt.

The Conductor was still standing stoically without looking back and you let your gaze fall around as to understand who he was addressing, because he definitely couldn’t have seen you.

“Yes. I’m talking to you, Miss,” he turned around enough for you to see his relaxed expression.

You could see only half of his face and the only visible eyebrow was lifted in a way that made his gaze look- well, sexy, you realized with a certain degree of embarrassment.

You got up and took a step forwards. “Well, I am not looking out through a window, so it is not technically forbidden. There’s not a sign near the entrance telling me I can't do this.”

The Conductor turned around fully. His lazy gaze rested on your face then slowly went down your body and stopped on your nude feet. His eyebrow lifted even more. You wigled your toes in embarrassment.

“I forgot to bring shoes,” you mumbled, your burst of confidence suddenly dying down.

“And a dressing gown,” he added, his pupils darting back down to your chest and hips in the almost sheer underdress you were wearing to sleep. “And some common sense,” he added, locking eyes with you.

You crossed your arms on your chest to prevent him from looking any further. Then you lifted your chin in disdain at his last phrase.

“That’s not very polite of you. Gentlemen avert their eyes.”

“Tell me, Miss. What prevents me from grabbing you and making you descend here in this town with the excuse of you not following the rules?”

You gulped. “Common sense, of course. Why would you even do that?”

“Why not? Maybe I forgot to bring it with me the way you did coming here.”

You let your arms fall down in anger. “That would be very inappropriate and illegal!”

“Says who?” he smirked. “There’s no warning near the door saying I can’t do that.”

You bit your lower lip. “I get it. I should not be here. But you can’t push me out of the train. That would be barbaric.”

The Conductor stepped back inside in one fluid movement. “Usually passengers rest in their coaches or entertain themselves with the others in an attempt to find their soulmate. They don’t go wandering about.”

You dropped your gaze to his chest as he was getting way too close for your liking.

And when he unbuttoned his jacket, slowly, and let it slide off his shoulders and fall on yours instead, you visibly shuddered.

It was warm and big, and it smelled like him. Like that overwhelming flowery perfume.

You felt dizzy.

“I was just curious,” you whispered, feeling like a little child being scolded. But the Conductor’s expression was warm when you dared to look at his face again.

His lips were full and plump and you felt a tight lump in your throat seeing them move.

“Go back to sleep, Miss.”

His deep voice rang in your head the whole time you washed your face and brushed your teeth, feeling it incredibly warm. You let his jacket fall on the seat in front of your bed but as you slid under the covers you wore it again, and nuzzled you face into the material.

_________

In the morning, or what you felt was morning, you wore another dress you packed, a deep blue one you instinctively chose with little black flowers around the crown of it.

Some people were walking against you in the corridor and you could audibly hear them stop their breathing as you locked eyes.

They were wondering if you were their soulmate.

Yesterday you would have walked slowly and looked around shyly as well, but today all you wanted to do was to bring the Conductor his jacket back and all of those people were just in your way.

You were about to start pushing against people’s shoulders when Mark’s head pocked out of a coach and his ruffled hair made you realized he just woke up.

Not in his bed.

“Mark Lee!” you stopped in place.

“Fuck,” he blinked at you. “You out of all people. I mean, so nice to see you-”

“Did you find your soul-”

Mark exited the coach quickly and closed the door behind him. “Shh,” he was about to place one hand on your mouth but then looked at it and put it behind his back instead.

“Let’s not- do not say anything.”

You blinked at him. “Are you telling me that-”

“Maybe,” he interrupted you again. “Listen, people here are gorgeous. There’s no need to save myself for marriage or anything.”

Your jaw fell. “Mark Lee, did you just sleep with some random woman?”

He scratched one eyebrow. “Did I offend your sensibility?”

“You’re just some man, aren’t you?” you looked him up and down. “Whatever. Have fun,” you rolled your eyes and started to walk again. “And wash that hand, would you?”

“How do you even know-”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” you turned around to quickly let your tongue out at him.

“Is that the Conductor’s jacket?” he asked before you could exit the car.

“No? I just found it around,” you answered quickly, leaving him behind with his questions.

The Conductor said you had no common sense but you had enough common sense to know that being seen around with his jacket would somehow be a mistake. He was the one who didn’t have the common sense to know to not send you to bed with it.

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t realize how far up the train you arrived and when the cars started to be empty safe for storage items you stopped in place to catch your breath.

It was very silent up there, the only sound coming from the rails outside and the steam locomotive.

You were close. And you had no idea why you knew that.

The walk towards the locomotive was slow and the spaces less fancy. Some coaches were on your right and you wondered if perhaps the Conductor was in one of them.

Or maybe you were stupid and he was way back in the train, doing his job.

When you felt like that damned train didn’t even have an end, in front of you a big dark door with a skull on it indicating some type of danger opened and the swish of fresh flowers made you close your eyes for a moment.

The Conductor’s head was tilted to the side as if amused.

“I see that this time you’re decently dressed,” he said, the his gaze fell on your chest. “Almost.”

You gulped and put on a brave expression. “I came to give you this back. Thank you.”

The man looked at the jacket you were holding and reached towards it slowly. His fingertips touched your knuckles for a brief moment and it made you so tense that you felt your head pulsating.

“You could have rung the bell. There was no need to come all the way up here.”

You let the air come out your nostrils. “You always scold me. You should be thankful I brought this back to you.”

“I am scolding you because you keep taking the most convoluted decisions instead of the straight forward ones.”

The informal conversation and the lack of Miss from his part made you nervous so you tried to look around his shoulder to see if any staff, or worse, the train driver could hear it.

Although you found his tone aggravating you didn’t want him to lose his job or anything.

“So you didn’t make me come because you were curious to see the Locomotive instead,” the Conductor added, seeing you snoop your nose around.

You straightened your back. “I was just trying to see if someone was listening to your inappropriate comments towards a passenger and a lady.”

The Conductor smiled and took a step to the side. “No one is here.”

For a second you forgot about him, the curiosity of how that Train actually worked exciting you more. “Who drives this then?” you stepped in and looked around the small space.

“No one,” the man explained and his breath caressed the back of your neck. When you looked behind your shoulder you realized he was staring at the goosebumps on your exposed skin.

“Why is there a chair here, then?” you cleared your throat and walked around it.

The Conductor wore his jacket and put his hands on the back of the big chair. “I like to sit here and look outside.”

You lifted your gaze towards the small window in front of you. You hadn’t even realized you could see outside.

“Do you want to try and sit down?” he asked.

You bit your lower lip. “Would that be alright?”

“I thought you didn’t care for rules,” he smirked.

You lifted your chin and sat down. It wasn’t much, just the railroad in front of you and some trees on each side. But it was peaceful and your curiosity got fully fed.

Now you wondered when it was the time to be killed like a cat.

“Why are you really here, Miss?”

The Conductor’s voice was so close to your ear that your spine curved. But you didn’t move away.

“Don’t-” you gulped. “Don’t flatter yourself or anything. I came here because I was curious and I had to give your jacket back.”

His index finger touched one of your hairs near the ear and you jolted in place, moving your head away. The man was smiling. He was holding a small feather that was probably stuck there.

“I hope you’re satisfied at all times, Miss,” he replied. “And I am here to make sure all of your future needs are fulfilled as well.”

That tone and those polite words were meant to be professional yet your mind went to Mark’s ruffled hair and half naked body. You imagined the Conductor’s dark hair on your pillow and his scent engulfing you all as his touch made your spine curve. And his hand, would he also use his hands on you like Mark did with his woman?

You shook the thoughts out of your head and got up quickly, feeling it hard to breathe in that narrow space.

“Thank you. I will leave now,” you voice was wavering and if he noticed it he didn’t say anything about it.

“I hope you have a pleasant journey,” he wished as you exited the car.

He didn’t mention anything about finding a soulmate this time.

__________

Your scent lingered on Haechan’s body the whole day.

It was in his hair, his nostrils, his skin, around his neck and his hands. He wondered if you slept with his jacket the whole night and the thought of your naked body pressed against the material of it made him almost knock heads with a passenger.

“Good day to you, Sir,” he tilted his hat last minute.

The young man barely noticed him, as his eyes were directed towards another person in the corner of the car.

Haechan was very acustomed to that gaze. He saw it every day for the past few years - the look of someone madly in love at first sight.

That was how your eyes looked like the first instant he saw you on the platform waiting for the Train.

Waiting for him.

He wondered how that gaze looked on his face but he was sure you didn’t notice it.

He wasn’t even sure it was there in the first place.

His instincts got the best of him and he worked on autopilot. Polite face, good smile, distance.

Hell, he even took the sign away from your windows for five minutes. But then you almost opened the damn curtains - as he intended for you to - and he realized he couldn’t physically let you go.

It was probably a mistake, he thought the first seconds of seeing you. He took the job of the Conductor because his old grandpa couldn’t work anymore. Haechan lived on that train since he could remember. It was always him and his old grandpa, in the middle of the swarm of people looking for soulmates. It made him sick to death to see all that love around him.

I wish you didn’t hate your parents for falling in love, Haechan, his grandpa used to say.

But it would have been different if they fell in love with each other.

But they didn’t.

The boy has been told the tale of his family of Conductors many times. It was a curse, they said. No one in his family had soulmates and they were tasked with assisting the Train instead.

How did you and grandma decide to be together then? small Haechan asked at the time.

Sometimes you just choose who to spend your life with. This is how your parents met as well. Your father came on this train often and never met his soulmate. Your mother understood he might be a good husband choice so she approached him and that’s how they got together.

But then dad met another woman on the train and left my mom.

The grandpa sighed deeply. He just met his soulmate. He didn’t do anything wrong.

Haechan as a child couldn’t know what to say to that.

He knew something was not right but he didn’t have the vocabulary to argue back.

But as a teenager he finally understood.

He abandoned my mom, your daughter, and he abandoned me. Don’t speak about that man ever again.

Haechan’s grandpa would only sigh and pat his shoulder. You’re growing into a fine young man. I am proud of you. And I am sorry that happened. When you’ll meet your person you’ll understand their choices.

I will never understand it because I don’t have a soulmate. And I surely as hell won’t marry a woman that might meet her rightful soulmate years later and leave me.

Your grandma never left me, he used to remind him. And I wish for you to have children. Who’s going to assist this Train otherwise?

To hell with this fucking Train, Haechan would explode and run away.

He didn’t hate the Train.

It was his home.

So when he’d calm down, sitting on the outside metal stairs and looking at the scenery no one besides him and grandpa were allowed to see, he’d realize he didn’t hate his parents either.

His mom remarried and left the Train after dad left.

Haechan wasn’t sure if she was actually in love although from her letters she seemed happy, but the memories of her time closed off in a coach on the verge of death were still haunting him. Haechan stopped reading his father’s letters altogether and started to burn them in the Locomotive.

A young woman approached him and Haechan shook off the memories and the convoluted thoughts about you from his head.

“How may I help you, Miss?” he placed his hands behind his back with the best custom service expression plastered on his face.

The woman seemed embarrassed.

“If you need anything, please, don’t hesitate to ask me,” he tried to reassure her.

She inhaled and took a step forward. Haechan leaned down to hear her better. “Well, you know how you said the coaches makes appear everything that you want? I was-, well, I met a man and- I know he’s not my soulmate but it’s not against the rules and we’re doing fine together for now and we were well, we were wondering how to make- how not to-”

“Get pregnant?” Haechan simply asked and the woman’s pale face turned purple from embarrassment.

She surely didn’t expect him to be that straightforward. “Usually if you really don’t want that to happen, it doesn't,” Haechan continued. “If you’ve encountered difficulties then maybe you or your partner have-,” he interrupted himself. “-a breeding kink?”

The young woman placed her palms to her cheeks and gave him a little bow. “I understand. I think I need to go now, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“You just have to-” Haechan tried again but the woman already ran away.

“I see I’m not the only one you’re being not so professional with,” a voice made him turn around.

__________

You were on your way for lunch. Or dinner? You lost track of time. You’ve been on that Train for less than 24 hours yet you felt like a lifetime already passed. To think you had to stay there until meeting your soulmate made you almost throw up.

“I thought you were very excited to meet your soulmate,” Mark commented that morning, eyes closed under the fake sun in the fake seaside car.

You sighed.

“I am.”

You were.

Or you thought you were. But somehow you lost interest. You imagined yourself inside the Train for so long that the moment you actually got on it it all lost meaning.

And how was it possible that none of the men looked interesting enough to even have a mere conversation? The only ones approaching you were trying to get under your dress and you soon realized that romance was not the way you imagined it to be.

“You don’t sound like excited. It’s as if you can’t wait to get off of here,” he opened one eye then turned to his side to see you better. “If you haven’t met the one yet, then what about enjoying it to the fullest until you can? It’s a place with free food and entertainment.”

You gave him the side eye. “I do not intend to sleep around with random men. I’m a lady.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “I’m also a gentleman and going down on people doesn’t make me less gentle.”

You almost spat your water. The Train somehow made everyone change or it opened your innocent eyes because you had no idea your childhood friend had that side of him.

“Did you really not find anyone who’s kinda attractive? You don’t even have to know his name,” he insisted.

Actually, there was a man whose name you didn’t know who you found very attractive. That was probably the worst part of that experience. Was it normal to be attracted to the Conductor like that?

You shook your head. “Nonsense. I will wait for my soulmate. And no, no one around is attractive enough.”

Mark exhaled and went back to his previous position. “I just don’t like seeing you sad.”

“I’m not sad.”

“Then angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“You’re angry now.”

“Because you’re pissing me off,” you sat up. “I’m going to eat.”

You were already too confused for your liking. You didn’t need Mark Lee to investigate further.

The desire to have a soulmate was still there deep inside, the longiness and the need, yet for some reason you also felt numb to everything around you.

Still feeling like Mark rubbed you the wrong way you almost missed the figures of the Conductor leaning down to whisper in a young gorgeous’ woman’s ear in the middle of the Library wagon.

The woman seemed scandalized and so red that she looked like a tomato. The Conductor’s face was unfazed but a bit confused as she ran away.

“I see I’m not the only one you’re being not so professional with,” you couldn’t help but say.

The car was empty safe for the two of you and when he turned around you smelled his ever present scent.

It drove you insane. What kind of damn cologne was that man wearing?

“What do you go flirting with passengers for?” you crossed your arms on your chest. Maybe Mark was right and you were actually angry but seeing the Conductor’s face just added to the whole irritation, especially catching him flirting with your shy women.

The Conductor tilted his head to the side as if genuinely surprised but also intrigued at your reaction.

“What if someone else besides me saw you? What would happen to your position and reputation?” you went on.

The man took his time to open his mouth and talk. “I don’t understand if you’re mad at me or if you’re worried for me.”

You lifted your chin. “Maybe both.”

“It takes a good amount of care for both. Do you care about me?”

He took a few steps towards you and the closeness made his voice quieter.

You didn’t let him intimidate you with his charm.

“I was raised a lady of good principles and seeing the Conductor of a Train meant to help people find their soulmates flirt with its passengers is not appropriate and I have to speak on it.”

The Conductor’s smile widened. “And lurking at the time of descent in a skimpy night gown and nude feet is appropriate?”

His dark blue eyes were more stormy than usual and the moles on his face reminded you of the nightsky above you as you were waiting for the Train.

“Coming all the way to my coach with a dizzying cleavage is appropriate?”

His voice was so deep and close that you had to avert your gaze to catch your breath.

“Shaking like this in my presence and being unable to look me in the face is appropriate?” he whispered so close to your lips that you inhaled and took a few steps back.

“You’re also here to find a soulmate, Miss. Concentrate on doing that and leave other people’s business to themselves,” he added in his usual calm voice and walking around you he left you breathless and alone in the middle of the Library.

________

Haechan reached for his tie to undo the knot and he realized his fingers were slightly shaking.

Your scent made him more on edge than usual and the fact he could still smell you on his jacket made him unreasonable mad.

And your face and expression, your hurt eyes seeng him talk to that woman, as if you were jealous, was driving him insane.

What were you thinking roaming around him like that? With your delicate blue dress and your cleavage moving up and down in that damn corset with every quick breath your took?

He should have let you move the curtains and never see you again.

Haechan walked the distance from the entrance door of the car to the Bar and without caring about anyone he walked behind it and poured himself a shot of whiskey.

“Hard day?” a voice made him sigh deeply before turning around.

He forced himself to smile. “I am not in service right now,” he lied to excuse his drinking on the job.

The young man waved his hand. “No one would care anyway. They’re either on a date or uhh fucking.”

“Would you like one?” Haechan indicated the bottle, ignoring the man’s choice of words.

The other nodded. “I’m Jeno.”

He expected Haechan’s name in return but the Conductor never tells his name to passengers. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay,” Haechan said instead, pushing a glass towards Jeno.

The latter took it and winced after downing it. “I’m not here for that. I’m actually a journalist.”

Haechan fought the urge to roll his eyes. There was one of two of them every year trying to gather some kind of hidden information about the Train. Haechan also thought there were some secrets about it growing up but it was a pretty straight forward thing. Just a Train in which you can meet your soulmate. Nothing more.

Well, that until he met you and your scent got under his skin.

“Is there something specific you’re writing about?” Haechan politely asked.

“Is it true that soulmates understand they’re soulmates because of each other’s scent?” he asked, and a writing pad materialized in front of him.

Haechan eyed his pen ready to take notes then his face. “You should ask the passengers. I am not someone who has a soulmate.”

“So it’s true that the Conductor has no soulmate.”

“Yes. It’s not a secret.”

Jeno nodded, not writing anything as if that wasn’t the information he was actually seeking out of him.

“My parents said there’s no such thing as scent. They’re also divorced,” he said.

Haechan sighed. Another young man hurt by that Train and his parents. “Sometimes people come here and go home together even if they’re not sure they’re actual soulmates. Maybe your parents mistook their union for a soulmate bond but it was just infatuation.”

“Shouldn’t this place guarantee a soulmate union?” Jeno asked. He looked very angry and Haechan could understand why. “What’s the purpose of this Train then? Let people choose each other on land at this point.”

“It’s called free choice. The Train knows who’s an actual soulmate pair and usually it doesn’t stop for couples who are not actually bonded. This is why the train is not stopping now for all the people who are- uh, fucking.” Haechan was too exhausted to choose a more gentlemanly term for that.

Jeno didn’t seem to care. “Then why did it stop for my parents?”

“They probably insisted for it to stop. The Train doesn’t go against the free choice.”

Jeno poured another shot, gave it to Haechan and took a deep gulp straight from the bottle.

“Nice chat, Conductor. Can I ask to leave now?”

Haechan kept quiet for a moment. “You should stay until you meet someone or until the Journey comes to an end. If you leave now you will not be allowed to come back.”

“There’s no such thing,” Jeno whispered and got up, walking towards the windows. With one quick hand he moved the curtains away. The Train stopped slowly on its tracks and Haechan sighed.

“Please follow me. I’ll escort you to the exit for going against the rules."

__________

Is it true that soulmates understand they’re soulmates because of each other’s scent?

That phrase has been haunting you for the following hours.

You were rolling in bed from the moment you decided to try and sleep after pacing your coach for a while.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

You didn’t even mean to follow the Conductor but his pace was urgent and the curiosity still hasn’t killed you, especially after that heated conversation you had in the Library.

Shaking in his presence and being unable to look him in the face? He could see that? What was going on and why were you feeling like committing the biggest crime you could think of?

No, why was the Conductor with his deep eyes and his pillowy lips and his smooth voice the only thing you could think of when you were on that dam Train to find your soulmate?

The Conductor walked towards the Bar and you remained back in the smaller corridor, watching his throat gulp that brown liquid like it was water. Why did he look so upset? Was it you? Or was it his missed opportunity with that lady that you interrupted?

You felt stupid spying him like that and you were about to turn around and walk away when the voice of a second man made you stop in your tracks.

I’m actually a journalist, the man said and you wondered what the Conductor would say back. Would he accept to give the journalist information?

Is it true that soulmates understand they’re soulmates because of each other’s scent? You felt your blood turn to ice. What did he mean by that? Scents? Your parents didn’t tell you anything about that.

But then the following exchange of information made you feel even worse.

You should ask the passengers. I am not someone who has a soulmate.

So it’s true that the Conductor has no soulmate.

Yes. It’s not a secret.

Mark looked like a baby chick with his hair ruffled around his face. But you could tell it was from simple sleeping and not messing around with someone’s daughter’s insides.

You pushed him back into his coach after he opened the door and you sat down.

“Wow, when I told you to look around and decide who to fuck I didn’t think that someone would be-”

You interrupted him. “Mark, tell me everything you know about the Train, soulmates, and-” you stopped for a second, “the Conductor.”

Mark blinked hard as if unable to keep his eyes open and laid back in his bed. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Actually I’ve been trying to keep track of the time and it should be middle of the afternoon.”

“Well, everything here is fucked and for me it’s middle of the night. Why are you so curious all of a sudden?”

You sighed and relaxed in the dark red velvety couch. “Have you ever heard of people feeling their soulmate’s scent more that other people’s?”

Mark hummed, one hand to scratch his forehead. “Yes. Johnny talked about it but at the time I thought it was something stupid people in love notice about each other. He said his partner smelled like patchouli and warm spices.”

You lifted your legs up to warm them under your night gown. “And your parents?”

“Dad said mom smells like lavender and mom said dad smells like woody herbal amber or something like that,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

He then opened his eyes and got up to sit, mirroring you. “Why? Did you meet someone whose scent is intense for you?”

You wondered if telling him the truth. “No, I just-” you played with a loose string along the hem of your gown, “I overheard a man talking about his parents never mentioning any scent and they’re divorced now.”

Mark leaned forwards. “Are you worried that your parents are not real soulmates since they also never mentioned scents?”

Actually that didn’t even cross your head but you realized that might be a possibility. You didn’t want your parents to divorce or anything.

“Oh, come on. I’m sure that’s not the case at all,” Mark came to sit beside you and wrapped your shoulders with his arms. You weren’t there because of your parents but Mark felt warm and comfortable to lean on so you didn’t correct him.

“What about the Conductor?” he then asked and you hoped he couldn’t feel the way you tensioned in his hold. “What did you want to know?”

You gulped and sat straight, letting Mark’s arms fall to your waist instead. “I’ve heard he doesn't have a soulmate.”

Mark nodded. “I’ve heard that too. Honestly I thought he would be some kind of very ancient man. At least, my parents said he’s very old, but maybe this is a new one.”

You kept quiet, biting your lower lip.

“What is it that you’re not telling me?” Mark whispered.

You lifted your gaze and his big sparkly eyes gave you the courage to open your mouth.

“If the Conductor has no soulmate, and soulmates feel each other’s scent, then why do I feel the Conductor’s scent everywhere I go?”

________

After Mark collected his jaw from the floor and you kept him up brainstorming the whole night, you met both early in the morning over breakfast to further discuss the possibility of you and the Conductor being soulmates.

“Not to put you down or anything,” he repeated, “but I’ve never heard of anyone bonding with the Conductor.”

You sighed staring down your coffee with no desire to drink it but knowing it would wake you up.

“I know, Mark, this is why I’m so dumbfounded.”

“I mean, also the original Conductor was a mummy of an old man. Maybe that’s why no one bonded with him. Maybe he was married already and that's how the rumour of him not having a soulmate started.”

You had a sip of the bitter liquid and winced. You were glad Mark was playing devil’s advocate with himself because you had no more force to discuss all the different points of view.

“I don’t even think it matters. He warned me multiple times to leave him alone and find a soulmate. How would being soulmates with him even work? Where would the Train stop? Would I be forced to stay here? Being the Conductress? Forever?” you felt like descending into madness.

“Listen, calm down. I think the solution is to check it myself first. We find him, I smell him. If it’s just his high quality cologne then you can put your mind at ease.”

You didn’t want to ask what would happen if he couldn’t smell anything but maybe your desperate eyes told him your feelings because he sighed.

“And if I don’t smell anything, I try to rizz him up and I’ll be like dang you look like you know your cologne. Can you show me your collection? And I go to his coach and I smell all of the bottles and if it’s any of them we know it’s just his perfume and not his actual scent.”

You opened your mouth.

“And-” he interrupted lifting one finger, “if it’s none of them then we will come back here and brainstorm together. He’s an attractive man. Maybe you’re just sexually attracted to him. I bet that if you tried and fucked-”

“I will not fuck the Conductor,” you said, perhaps too loudly. You both looked around.

You lowered your voice. “I don’t know what’s going on but having that kind of relation with him doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

Mark leaned back in his chair. “Okay then. I’ll start by going on with my plan then we’ll see.”

You exhaled and nodded once. “That sounds like such a stupid plan.”

Mark’s smile widened. “At least something fun is happening in this stupid Train besides drinking and sleeping around.”

________

Haechan finished his morning routine walk across all wagons and sighed looking at his pocket watch. Soon everyone would be done with breakfast and would go about their business. He had to go and assist in the enternatinment wagons in some time as well.

Then he felt a pair of eyes on his back and lifted one eyebrow.

“What can I do for you, sir?” he turned around to see your little friend fake confidence leaning on a wall.

If Haechan didn’t know better he’d think the young man was trying to flirt.

“Oh, hello there Conductor. Or maybe I should say-” Mark stopped his phrase as if waiting for Haechan to say his name.

“Conductor is fine,” he smiled, joining his gloved hands together in front of him.

“Right right. I will not push any boundaries. I was just wondering, like from a gentleman to another gentleman, if you can aid me choosing a cologne.”

Whatever Haechan expected that man to say it wasn’t that.

He had to suppress a laugh.

“A cologne, sir?”

Mark walked around him casually. “I mean, I am here to meet a soulmate and I thought damn what if I don’t smell good? That’s my biggest fear actually, you know?” he put his hand on the chest to convey how intensely he felt about not smelling good.

“When you’ll meet your soulmate, sir, they will think you smell like their favourite scent, so no need to worry.”

Mark stopped in his tracks and his stupid fake expression fell. “You said soulmates smell like their favourite scents just now?”

Haechan exhaled. “That’s what I said, sir.” He really hated repeating himself.

Mark kept looking at him so Haechan was about to excuse himself and bid the weird man farewell but then the awareness of his behaviour washed over him like a cold wave and he stopped in place.

Haechan lifted his gaze and met Mark’s intense black eyes.

“Are you not curious why I am asking you about scents, Mister Conductor?” his voice suddenly became lower.

“I am not a curious man, sir,” Haechan straightened his tie with the intention of leaving. He didn’t like where all of that was going.

But Mark took a step to the side, blocking his way.

“So what’s your favourite scent?”

Haechan fought the urge to grab the dude and physically move him away. “I like clean and fresh scents, sir.”

“And what does Y/N smell like?”

Haechan put his tongue in the cheek and flared his nostrils. “I wouldn’t know.”

_________

Mark thought about keeping this all a secret from you. Being soulmates with the Conductor of the Soulmates Train didn’t sound like a great time. It was like falling in love with Death when it comes to kill you. But he wasn’t going to be a bad friend.

He told you to wait in the Seaside wagon in hopes you could relax hearing the sea waves, but when he entered he found you fidgeting instead.

“How did it go?” you walked up to him but he exhaled and dragged you towards the lounge chairs.

He didn’t know what you wanted to hear, if confirmation that the Conductor was your soulmate, or if you wanted nothing to do with him.

“First of all, he doesn’t smell like anything to me,” Mark said. “He just has a normal clean person scent. Like any other person.”

You swallowed and inhaled shakily, letting the information sink in.

“Second of all, he said soulmates smell like each other’s favourite scents.”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out of it.

“What does he smell like to you, Y/N? Is it flowers?”

Mark knew you’ve always loved that scent. The sweet but fresh perfume of flowers with their infinite colours.

He didn’t need you to answer, he saw it in your pupils. You watched Mark close his eyes for a moment and exhale then open them again.

“It’s not all,” he said. “He behaved weirdly when I mentioned you. I have a hunch that he can sense your scent as well.”

________

I think you should talk about it together, Mark suggested, but you couldn’t just do that, could you? He was the Conductor after all. Such thing was impossible.

Also, for how much you loved Mark, risking such improper behaviour only because of a hunch was too much for you.

You thought you were afraid of not finding a soulmate. Growing up that has been your everlasting fear; yet your brain has never even taken into consideration the perspective of finding your soulmate in a man you could not have.

For how much you’ve been wanting to see him, bump into him, or exchange a few stupid words to each other in the past days, your felt the same equal amount of desire to avoid him at all costs.

You thought you wanted Mark to come back and tell you that it was just the Conductor’s overbearing cologne. You wanted him to say he smelt it too and that is confirmation that he couldn’t possibly be your soulmate.

Yet when he fed your idea that the Conductor might be your man the relief was so intense that you almost cried.

It drove you insane.

The following days you haven’t seen the Conductor once. Perhaps the encounter with Mark made him uncomfortable and he decided to avoid you as well. What if he though you were some kind of creep? He did warn you to leave him alone and concentrate on finding a soulmate instead. Was it possible to have a one sided soulmate?

Somehow you felt like that situation was all your fault. Maybe that was the death moment of the curiousity saying, because you kinda felt like dying slowly if you thought about any other man. Maybe if you didn’t go to see the descending moment, maybe if you didn’t sleep with his jacket, maybe if you didn’t go and find him in the Locomotive, maybe if you didn’t confront him in the Library, you wouldn’t feel like that.

Maybe maybe maybe.

“I know this is not good friend advice, but you could get your mind off of him by, you know, using someone else,” Mark shrugged, peeling an apple with a knife.

You sighed, pulling your summer hat lower on your eyes. The seaside car soon became you and Mark’s favourite. “You know what? Maybe you’re right.”

“You finally gave in my temptation?” he wigled his eyebrows.

“Yes. You’re the little devil sitting on my shoulder.”

Mark cut a piece of apple and ate it off the knife. “I can introduce you to some fine gentlemen.”

You snorted. “I saw the gentlemen you have around Mark Lee.”

“And? Are they not fine?”

“You can have them.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Do you want to have fun or not?”

“I do. But I’m not sure if fucking random men is what I consider peak of amusement,” you replied. Mark didn’t say anything so you kept going. “Although, I noticed that the light brow hair man is not bad. I think his name is Jaehyun. He has nice hands and a great smile. I do enjoy a good dimple.”

You expected Mark to laugh at you but he remained quiet safe for a little nudge he gave you. You sighed. “The other J name man is not bad either. He’s tall and he looks gentle like a puppy.”

“Uhm,” Mark said and nudged you again.

“What? You said I should sleep with one of them,” you slid away the hat to give him a venomous side eye when your mouth dropped open.

Mark was looking at you with a little tight smile and in front of you, almost covering the artificial sun of the wagon, was standing the Conductor.

“I apologize, Miss. I didn’t want to interrupt your- uh lovely monologue,” he tilted his stupid hat.

You sat up feeling your body on fire. Then you looked at Mark who gave you a small apologetic smile.

Your mouth was dry and you had no idea what was the appropriate thing to say to someone who overheard you talk about fornication.

His scent should have told you he was there, but maybe you got so used to it that you were feeling it everywhere, messing with your perceptions.

“Good day, sir,” you stupidly said.

“I was just making sure you’re enjoying your stay,” the Conductor looked at you first, then Mark. “From your conversation I assume everything is fine.” His eyes looked black in the shadow and the little line between his eyebrow looked like a crack in his otherwise perfect face.

You gulped and bit your lower lip.

“Just a precaution. I told this the lady that stopped me in the Library the other day also, if you remember. As a contraceptive, please make sure to strongly desire to not get pregnant, so the Train can take care of you.”

________

The fact that useless friend of yours ambushed him like that told Haechan that you probably felt his scent everywhere as well.

And you must have spoken about it in such a way that made Mark investigate.

It made Haechan’s fingers tingle and they’d tingle ever more when he’d slid them underneath his covers at night, and fuck his fist to the image of you until he had to push his face into the pillow to muffle his groans.

Everything was a mess and for the first time in his life Haechan didn’t know what to do.

The letter he wrote his grandpa asking for advice was still unsent, looking at him from his desk.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to expose himself like that to his family. His grandpa would be nothing but supportive.

I knew you’d find a partner. See, now you understand it. It makes sense how your parents felt, doesn’t it?

Because no. Haechan didn’t understand it and his parents’ behaviour still didn’t make sense to him. Also, he hated to hear others say I told you so.

But also, his family never mentioned the possibility of a full-on soulmate. They said someone random. Someone that couldn’t find anyone else. Someone who would accept Haechan as a second choice.

He rolled in bed, the stickiness of his desire still coating his hand. Then he huffed and got up to wash.

His desire. It was such a foreign feeling to him to leave him breathless.

Yet it felt so familiar that he felt like he could finally breathe deeply. It felt like things were finally right, like he was finally home.

That morning he didn’t follow with his duties thoroughly as usual. The Train stopped twice and he looked behind his shoulder to check whether you were there, in your skimpy underdress and nude feet.

But you weren’t.

He tried to ignore you for the past few days and apparently you were doing the same.

Yet, he could feel your scent in the whole Train, as if you’ve just left the wagon he entered.

He wondered if you felt him everywhere as well.

In the afternoon, he couldn’t take it anymore so he followed the trail. He would just give you a short look, something to further fuel his autodestructive night fantasies.

You were in the Seaside car, as usual, your dress ridden up your thighs on that chaise longue and Haechan wondered how could Mark concentrate on cutting that apple without cutting his finger when you looked like that besides him.

“I know this is not good friend advice, but you could get your mind off of him by, you know, using someone else,” Mark shrugged.

Haechan stopped in place. He wasn’t eavesdropping. You were talking loudly enough for everyone to hear. But he didn’t want you to sense him.

You wanted to get your mind off of whom? Haechan?

“You know what? Maybe you’re right,” you replied and Haechan tightened his fist in his white glove. The image of you sleeping with someone else suddenly appeared in front of Haechan’s irises made the seaside car look like the north pole instead.

“You finally gave in my temptation?” that useless fellow asked and Haechan has never wanted to have a fist fight with a passenger more.

Of course, he wondered already if Mark was your soulmate and you both dumb idiots didn’t notice.

Maybe that’s why Mark even inquired about scents in the first place.

But why was Haechan sensing your scent if you were taken and why did the Train not stop for you two if that was the case?

Could the Conductors curse be that cruel? Making Haechan fall in love with a woman he could not have?

“I can introduce you to some fine gentlemen,” Mark said and Haechan didn’t know if he should feel relieved Mark wasn’t offering himself for your entertainment or be jealous at the idea of someone else touching you.

He decided to intervene.

“I do. But I’m not sure if fucking random men is what I consider peak of amusement,” you replied right when Mark lifted his gaze and a piece of apple fell from his mouth on the fine sand at his feet.

Haechan gave him a venomous look and opened his mouth to interrupt your scandalous monologue.

But you went on. “Although, I noticed that the light brow hair man is not bad. I think his name is Jaehyun. He has nice hands and a great smile. I do enjoy a good dimple.”

Haechan felt his jaw muscles twitch. “The other J name man is not bad either. He’s tall and he looks gentle like a puppy,” you continued.

Mark had the decency to look scared.

“I apologize, Miss. I didn’t want to interrupt your lovely monologue,” Haechan finally said as you finally realized what was going on.

He came there like a thirsty man to have a single drop of water and you were thinking of sleeping with other men instead.

Haechan felt like stopping the Train and descending himself.

Your eyes were glossy when you looked up at him, maybe from the sun but also from the embarrassment.

Haechan felt like making you feel even worse.

________

Your gaze followed the Conductor’s spine as he exited the wagon and you let a single pained whine as you burrowed your face into your palms.

“Mark Lee.”

The poor Mark got up and away from you as if he could sense you might take your frustration out on him.

“It’s not my fault.”

You let your hands fall in your lap. “Now he thinks I’m a whore.”

“I don’t think that changes anything. You don’t need his opinion or approval.”

You got up with another whine. “He ignored me for days and now that he approached me again he overheard me talk about who of your friends I might fuck.”

Mark finished his apple. “Hey. Wasn’t that your intention? Getting rid of him? Forgetting him?”

You exhaled.

Yes, but why did it feel so bad?

_______

They all eyed you the following night - the first ball party of the season, the little card said.

This time the ink didn’t smudge when it appeared on your nightstand out of thin air and it didn’t look like it was written by hand.

One detail made you bite your lower lip. Wear masks, the card said.

The car that was hosting it was huge and you realized it must have been some sort of optical illusion to make the space feel so big. The center was empty and you assumed it was for dancing. Most people were standing near the refreshment tables or near the walls and the exciting but nervous air made your skin shiver. Everyone from the train was there and you realized it was the perfect moment to meet a soulmate.

With uncertain feet in your high heels you reached towards the drinks but the glasses didn’t move from the tray.

“You need to say what you want and the glass unglues itself,” the Conductor said and his long fingers appeared in front of you. They wrapped the leg of a glass. “Champagne,” he said and the glass remained in his hand.

You didn’t dare to look at him. “I didn’t know Conductors were allowed to drink,” you tried, remembering the time he felt the need to have that wiskey shot in the bar.

“How do you know I am the Conductor?” he asked. His voice was low but light and amused.

You turned around quickly to see a black mask, leaving nothing but an anonymous jawline and a pair of lips. His hair was covered by a silver crown and in his elegant suit no one could have noticed who he was.

But you did.

You cursed at yourself.

The Conductor leaned closer. “Is it because of my scent?” he whispered.

You gulped and looked away towards the drinks tray.

“So you admit it,” you murmured, wondering if someone was looking at you.

“Admit what?” he asked.

The crowd of people cheered and you assumed a new couple formed.

The intermission helped you cool your head.

“I don’t know the names of all the drinks,” you changed subject.

The Conductor didn’t seem surprised. “Which one do you want?”

“I don’t know. The least dangerous looking one.”

“Bubbles,” he ordered and then gave you the glass full of sparkly liquid. It smelled fruity.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Do you always go for the least dangerous looking thing?” he turned around and looked towards the hall.

Some brave couples started to dance and you enjoyed the way the ladies gowns flowed under the golden lights.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” he smiled once before taking a sip of his drink.

“Yes,” you took a sip of your bubbles as well. They buzzed on your tongue.

“So you didn’t avoid me because you were afraid of me the past few days.”

It wasn’t a question.

“You knew where to find me if you wanted to see one of your passengers. This is your Train.”

The Conductor let his gaze fall on your face. “I did find you. You were talking about very interesting arguments.”

You gimaced, thinking of the Seaside Wagon incident. “It was just talk. I did not-” you started to explain the you realized how stupid it sounded trying to justify your actions, or non-actions, to him.

The Conductor sipped from his drink in silence. You couldn’t read his face normally, and with that mask you really had no idea what he was thinking.

“Are you upset I didn’t contact you all of these days?” he asked instead. "It was my understanding you were trying to forget someone by engaging in those actions and I am self centred enough to think that someone was me."

His honesty left you breathless. You considered lying. Admitting it would have been too humiliating. “No. I understand why you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“Which is?”

“I look like a crazy woman who claims you’re her soulmate because you smell like flowers,” you blurted out before realizing what you just said.

Your hands in your white lacey gloves started to shake.

The man remained quiet for a moment then he chuckled. “Really? I smell that nice to you?”

You exhaled. “This is not a laughing matter.”

The Conductor analyzed your expression. “I apologize. I didn’t realize how this made you feel.”

His tone gave you the courage to look him in the eyes. Even behind the mask they looked alive, torbid like the dark deep sea.

But looking was a mistake.

“I suppose it’s something common for you,” you inhaled, starting to hate the everlasting flowers perfume surrounding him. “Women with soulmate claims over you, that is,” you explained.

The Conductor looked in front of himself and took another sip. “Yes. I am a charming man afterall.”

You hated him. Was he punishing you? Or did he actually not care about you at all?

“Well, I avoided you because I wanted to say I had no claims. Take this as a compliment on you smelling decently and let’s move on.”

“And what moving on means for you?” he inquired.

“Acting as normal Train Conductor and Passenger,” you took another sip of your bubbles. It started to taste too sour.

“Tonight many couples will make the Train stop,” he announced. “Would you like to see?”

You turned towards him and you locked eyes. “Does that sound like normal Conductor and Passenger behaviour to you?”

The young man laughed at your scolding. “I just know you’re curious.”

“Why would you be kind to me like that? Do you want to push me out of the Train as you’ve expressed your interests towards doing before?”

“I wouldn’t mind getting rid of you actually,” he joked and you could tell he didn’t mean it.

But the tears that secretly collected in your eyes during that conversation were close to falling to your cheeks. You left his side quickly but not before hearing him call out your name.

________

Y/N.

For some reason you thought he didn’t even know the names of every passenger.

Was that normal behaviour? From Miss to nothing to your actual first name.

He pissed you off.

He pissed you off so badly that the tears streaming down your cheeks were tears of anger, you decided.

“Oh heavens. Are you alright, dear?” a young woman stopped in tracks with her man.

“Yes, thank you, Miss,” you bowed a little holding your skirts. You wanted to get out of that car.

No. You wanted to get out of the damn Train.

Was it normal for love to hurt like that? Was all of that even love?

You had no idea afterall.

Everyone said you would just know and everything would fall into place. You’d have the best experience and make the Train stop to settle down with the love of your life. Then why all of those people felt like nothing around you and the only man your heart ached for you couldn’t have?

“Hey hey hey,” Mark stopped you by putting his hands on your shoulders.

You were barely seeing where you were walking.

“What happened?” he asked. “Did you see him?”

Bless Mark and his everknowing third eye.

You gave him a little nod and he pouted his lips, holding you into his arms. “There there. It’s alright. It’s okay.”

The people walking around you gave you some looks as they tried to reach the ball hall but you didn’t care.

“Mark, can you be my soulmate so we can go home and live together in a cottage?” you joked, your voice was muffled against his shoulder and you heard him chuckle.

“Actually-” he trailed off and you let him go, rubbing your eyes and finally eying the person on his side who was patiently waiting for you to calm down.

“I want to introduce you to my-” he added then interrupted himself again, looking at the smiling person with eyes you’ve never saw him have. “-the love of my life,” he finished.

________

Your coach felt like the safest place on earth and your cell at the same time.

After the congratulatory moments and after starting to cry again because you realized how happy you were for your best friend to have found the person he was going to spend his life with, the sad tears came along again as you realized that he was probably going to leave the Train that same evening.

We’ll come visiting often. Afterall I’m leaving my parents and friends behind as well and I want to see them again, he assured you.

You sighed and sat down on your bed.

The reflection the mirror in the corner gave you back made you jolt a bit. You cleaned the running mascara from your cheeks and laid down waiting for the Train to stop, trying to empty your brain.

The Conductor’s voice echoing in your head couldn’t let you fall asleep. Why was he behaving like that? Was he that cruel? Couldn’t he actual see what was going on?

When the Train’s rumbling stopped and you heard the chatter of some couples walking down the corridor you sat back up and opened the coach’s door.

Mark squeezed you in a tight hug then gave you a thumbs up as he passed in front of you with his luggage and, after some other people, you saw the Conductor closing the line.

He stopped in front of your door and opened his mouth as you locked eyes but then he probaby changed his mind because he closed it soon after in a tight line and followed the rest of the people.

You remained quiet behind his back and none of the passengers looked like minding having another spectator, so deeply lost in their partner’s eyes.

“Thank you for traveling with us. I wish you happiness,” the Conductor said, repeating the same phrase you heard him say that first time you witnessed a passengers descent.

Mark lifted his hand to wave and you exhaled, waving back, feeling tears prick your eyes as he turned around and walked towards the Station.

The Conductor remained there for the following moments and you somehow knew he did it for you.

“He’ll do fine,” he said after a moment of quiet.

“I know,” you simply replied.

“Y/N,” he turned around and you inhaled taking a step back.

“Don’t call me by my name. We’re not on those terms.”

The Conductor hesitated but then he took a step inside and the doors closed behind him.

Your gaze was on his shiny shoes so he hunched his back a little to make you look at his face instead.

The cry and the other events calmed you down by now but seeing his face made all of those feelings resurface.

You forced yourself to look at his eyes the way he cleary wanted you to.

“My name is Haechan,” he murmured straightening his back. “Would that make us be on those terms now?”

Your fingers fidgeted at the sound of his name and your lips fought the urge to say it out loud.

“Why?” you asked instead. “Why are you being mean to me?”

“I’m not trying to be mean,” he got closer to you and you took a few steps back again.

“I don’t want to be close to you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to be on first name terms with you. I wish for you to leave me alone if you don’t want anything to do with me.”

Haechan kept moving forward as you moved back until you hit the wall with your blades. He got as close as to rest his palms near your head on the wooden wall.

And when he leaned in and rubbed your cheek with the tip of his nose you forgot how to breathe.

“You smell like fresh cotton and linen,” he whispered with the most desperate tone you heard a man speak. It was so tender that it clouded your mind. “It engulfed me the same instant I opened the doors that night. You’re not insane, I feel it too.”

He straightened his back and looked you in the eyes. “The soulmate bond,” he added. “This is why you’re irritable when you’re away from me. This is why no one seems interesting to you, why this Journey feels boring. It’s not because you haven’t met the one yet. It’s because you have.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“And? What now?” you didn’t let his sweet words sway you although all you wanted was for him to wrap his arms around you and press those pillowy lips on yours.

“The truth is I am as lost as you are,” he let his arms fall to his sides. “This is not supposed to happen.”

“I figured.”

“I come from the Conductors family,” he started. “Traditionally we do not have soulmates. Our people-” he stopped, as if unsure of how to explain. “-breed by choosing random people they want to be with. Sometimes the couples stay together. Sometimes they don’t if the person who’s not from this family actually meets their rightful soulmate.”

“Do you know of anyone who separated that way?” you asked although from his eyes you could tell that he did.

“My parents.”

You bit your lower lip. “I am sorry,” you wrapped your nudes arms.

“Are you cold?” he asked but you cut him off seeing his hands going to unbutton his outwear.

“Don’t you dare giving me your jacket,” you warned him. “It-” you stopped suddenly very embarrassed. “-was a lot to handle the first time,” you settled for, as drove me insane felt too much.

“I know,” he looked as nervous and for a moment it made you feel better. You also never realized how young he was. He was probably just around your age. “It made me feel a certain well, too,” he added.

You looked behind him and you realized your coach was just around the corner. Haechan let you walk around him and open the door, grabbing a shawl to put around your shoulders.

“Come inside. It’s warmer here,” you let your head peek around the corner.

Haechan felt too big for your coach, you realized, seeing him sitting on the deep dark chairs.

As if knowing to not give you any kind of temptation, there was no bed inside.

You made a mental note to ask Haechan how did the Train knew such stuff.

“I am as unprepared as you are,” he spoke after a while, resuming his discourse.

You knew that conversation was due to happen but it didn’t make you feel less nervous.

“My grandfather never mentioned something like this happen to me. He just assumed I might end up seeing someone with no soulmate. My grandmother was one of them and they haven’t separated. Although now I wonder if she met someone else and actively chose my grandfather instead because of some kind of principle sentiment.”

All of that raw information made your heart ache. You’ve never thought about the Conductor’s family growing up. You’ve never ever heard of people with no soulmate whatsoever.

“Would that be that bad?” you asked in a tiny voice.

His eyes were fiery when he looked at you but you knew he wasn’t mad at you. “Would you enjoy the thought of someone being with you because they feel sorry or because of a promise they made although they’re madly in love with someone else?”

You gulped and looked down at your hands in your lap.

“You think that would be our situation?”

The man didn’t reply. You took it for a yes.

“Or are you afraid I’d leave you after a while? Because you think you’re not my actual soulmate?”

“I don’t know,” he exhaled. “You’d think for a Conductor of the Soulmates Train I’d be more well versed in these heart affairs,” he chuckled bitterly.

He closed his eyes and you felt brave enough to stare at his face. You’ve never had the opportunity to see his features for that long. He was so gorgeous that your heart felt like bleeding and the thought of you meeting someone else that would make you feel more than that that felt inimaginable. The thought of him with some other woman felt even worse.

“If I can’t have you-” you started unable to keep your mouth shut. “I think I’ll just not have anyone else. I can’t even imagine-”

The man smiled and opened his eyes. They were the same deep blue that made you feel like suffocating the first time you saw them. “I am flattered you think this way now.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

“I love a challenge.”

He was pissing you off. You told him just that.

His laugh was so pristine that you felt a little smile bloom on your face as well.

“Then what? I’ll just finish this Journey and go home? Then I’ll see you next year? Does this make sense to you?” you tried to reason.

His story was so sad that it made your heart bleed but the relief that washed over you felt so good that it was making you dizzy. He was into you too. He could sense your scent too. He desired you too. You would not let him go away.

“Sounds good,” he replied with a tiny breathy voice.

You rolled your eyes. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Then what? You wish to stay here with me? Forever? On the Train?” he asked instead.

You bit your lower lip. “Where do you stay when it’s not Soulmates season?”

Haechan sat lower on the chair and his extended and spread legs made you curse at yourself for finding that attractive. “I live on the Train. Always had.”

“You just stay here alone? The whole year?” you leaned in surprised.

The man shrugged. “I had my Grandpa before. It wasn’t that bad. And I don’t know another world besides this one so I don’t miss it.”

“Where is he now?”

Haechan looked towards the window as if actually seeing what was behind that curtain. He probably knew what was behind it, you realized.

“He’s living with my mother. He couldn’t work anymore as he was too old.”

You leaned back in your chair as well and lifted your legs to rest them near him.

Haechan turned his head towards them and lifted one hand, letting his fingers trail the arch of one of them making you twitch.

He looked at your surprised expression and his eyelashes were heavy on his eyes.

Then he inserted two fingers between the hem of one of his white gloves and took it off, letting it fall to the ground. Then he did the same with his other hand.

You couldn’t speak.

No, you couldn’t think.

His fingers were slender and his touch was warm as he caressed your arch again, this time making you fully shiver. Seeing his bare hands shouldn’t have made you feel that way.

“Haechan,” you murmured, maybe as a warning, or maybe because you simply wanted to say his name.

“Y/N,” he said back, taking your feet and placing them on top of one of his thighs. He then looked down at them, slowly touching your ankles too, going up as much as he could reach which was too much for your dizzy head giving the crampness of the coach. You could have sworn it wasn’t so small before.

You hummed as he reached your knee, letting your skirts fall to your thighs in the movement. And when he reached the clasps of your garter keeping the tights up you jolted.

“I don’t think we should be doing this,” your voice wavered.

“I know,” he breathed out, yet his hands didn’t move away and you didn’t push them away either.

They kept going up, over your skirts this time until reaching the back of your corset which was starting to feel way too tight.

Haechan slowly slid down between your legs, on his knees, as if guided by a string coming from inside of you. The view made you mewl and the thought of doing this with anyone besides him sounded abhorrent in that moment.

The first pull made you inhale and put your hands on his shoulders. They felt firm.

The second pull at your corset made you bite your lower lip and Haechan’s pupils darted to it.

“Haechan,” you called out again, this time softly, like a prayer.

“Yes, darling,” he leaned even closer to you, attentive to your expression and reactions.

The pet name knocked the air out of your lungs.

“If-” you swallowed thickly, “if we have to separate-, please, I want-”

Haechan patiently waited for more. His eyes, his fucking eyes, they were so deep, and his lips, so so close to you. You could have just leaned forward and tasted them.

You felt like going insane.

“Remember when you said that you’d-” you changed the route of the phrase thinking it would be easier but you stopped again.

Haechan exhaled and pulled another string from your corset. “What is it that you want?”

“I want you to be my first.”

________

Something inside Haechan’s brain was screaming that it was all a mistake, that he was doing something he shouldn’t have.

But Haechan has been a very good boy his whole life while everyone around him made mistakes with not a single worry in the world. Warm between your legs he didn’t care if he’ll regret it.

But hearing you he stopped, inches away from your mouth. Your heavy breath was matching his and your cleaveage still tightly restricted in that corset made him wonder if you could feel how hard he was against the heavy skirts of your dress.

“I need to hear you ask me again, explicitly, and I need to hear you say that you’re aware this might be a mistake and you might regret it,” he grunted.

You fanned your lashes at him with that pure expression of yours.

“I want you to make me yours and I am aware of all of the consequences,” you murmured.

Your tone and the polite choice of words made him want to scream.

“Please,” you added and Haechan couldn’t take it anymore.

He leaned towards you and grabbed your chin with one hand, tasting the tender skin of your neck instead of your lips.

You exhaled and trembled against him, your pulse beating so fast underneath his tongue that he wondered how plump and wet you were between your legs.

So soft and malleable in his arms you let him gently push you into the bed that materialized underneath you.

________

The Conductor’s eyes were so deep that they looked almost black. His body felt so good on top of yours that you wondered if he could let his weight down even more to fully engulf you with his presence.

You couldn’t imagine feeling such intensity with someone else. He didn’t trust you with your feelings but the moment his lips pressed on yours you were sure he had to be your soulmate or nothing in life would have made sense.

And when you finally slid your hands in his hair you found it was as soft as you imagined.

His wet velvety tongue on your throat made you mewl in ways you’ve never heard yourself sound before.

Then he kissed your boiling skin on your clavicle and when he reached the swell of your breasts you felt on fire.

“Hng,” you whimpered, feeling his warm and wide palms press on your waist and slide underneath until he pulled up to sit. He never stopped kissing your body, not even when he pulled harshly at the corset strings to finally undo it.

You gasped at the sudden freeing sensation and shyly let your arms up for him to drag it up and let it fall to the side.

He cupped your free breasts soon after under the thinner dress material and you threw your head back.

Not in a million years you would regret that. It wasn’t possible.

And when your back hit the mattress again Haechan finally kissed you, slowly, brushing your lips together first, then delicately taking your upper lip between his, letting you taste his bottom one. Your fingers deepened the pressure on his shoulders the same moment you felt his tongue nudge at your mouth. You opened further and timidly let yours meet his. It tingled all over your body and when he slid it fully inside your mouth you moaned.

You couldn’t breathe nor think. You couldn’t even move.

Was this the love everyone was talking about? Because you were starting to understand.

In that moment it didn’t matter what you two would end up doing. The only thing you could concentrate on was the ardent kiss and his hands on your arms, reaching up to slid the dress straps off your shoulders.

Then he touched the spot with his lips and you finally gasped, taking in as much air as you could, extending your neck in the opposite direction, giving him more space to fully drive you crazy.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured against your skin as you twitched ever so slightly. Your breast was almost bare and the thought of him seeing you as no one had before made your nipples poke the dress fabric until it hurt.

“Tell me to stop anytime and I will,” he added.

“I don’t want you to stop. Please,” you found yourself saying.

________

You were so warm. You were warm and soft and Haechan desired you so much that he had to bite his lower lip almost to blood to prevent himself from devouring you completely.

Insane, he thought, you were insane to ask him to fuck you like that, and he was also insane for going with it.

His cock was so hard that it was painful and he imagined you felt the same, so he leaned down and wet your hard nubs making you gasp so deliciously that he made a mental note to do it often.

The thoughts of that being your first time together but maybe also the last was banging into his brain but he decided to ignore it. Your little sounds were grounding him and the way your breast felt underneath his hands, overflowing between his fingers as he squeezed just added to his brain haze.

He was starting to feel feverish and if he didn’t ended up with his mouth between your legs soon he thought he was going to go insane.

Your hands on his shoulders made shivers go down his spine and when they moved to his hair, he hummed with your nipples against his tongue.

He wanted to make you feel good, he wanted to make you feel so fucking good.

And he told you, murmuring it on top of your skin, sliding down your torso and letting your scent and warmth guide his clouded brain.

Haechan took your dress with him and when he couldn’t take it anymore he lifted himself on his knees and dragged it up your legs, throwing it as far as he could.

Your chest was falling and dropping so fast underneath him and he took a moment to enjoy the view, letting his gaze caress you where his hand was, slowly from your ribcage down your navel until reaching the slit between your legs.

You gasped, the little O on your face making his almost growl.

“Have you ever touched yourself before, darling?” he asked with a voice he barely recognized.

You shivered and he leaned back down to shelter you with his body, his hand still lazily drawing circles around your plump and soaked clit.

__________

You tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck but he was quicker.

You couldn’t believe you were completely naked in front of the man you desired so desperately. Was that the cruel joke of the destiny? Giving you all before taking it away from you?

Haechan kissed your lips, this time deeply and rougher than the first. Then he breathed on them. “Answer me,” he demanded.

You melwed, unable to think. His fingertips were so delicate and gentle that they almost weren’t there, yet you felt them so well that you couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

“Only outside,” you admitted.

Haechan rubbed his nose against your cheek. “I thought you were a curious person. You never felt the need to know how it feels inside?”

You swallowed thickly. Not in your most depraved thoughts you imagined a gentleman talk to you like that. And you loved it.

“I was afraid,” you admitted.

Haechan hummed, kissing slowly alongside your neck then licking your ear. “You’re so sensitive. Were you afraid it was going to hurt?”

You nodded as a reply.

“Are you afraid now?” he looked you in the eyes, his fingertips never stopping for a moment.

“No,” you whispered.

Haechan’s wet lips were open as if to let more air get inside his lungs and the thought of you being the cause to that decadent expression made the wetness between your legs just get worse.

You bit your lower lip, wondering if he noticed and when he dropped his hand by a mere centimeter you could feel his finger nudge at your hole and collect every drop of it.

You closed your eyes in embarrassment, clasping the material of his shirt on his bicep, and it just made Haechan more eager to rub your clit in ways you never even thought of.

“Show me,” he said, his voice so thick and rough that you felt like swimming in it. “Show me how you touched yourself.”

“Please,” you begged unsure yourself for what.

“Don’t be shy. Put your hand on top of mine and guide me, love,” he murmured with a twinkle in his eyes that made your insides burn.

You let one of your hands slide down his arm and you reached the back of his hand between your legs. It felt so erotic that you felt like combusting.

“Yes, just like that,” he prompted you, his lips now back on your chest, gently biting the softness of your flesh.

You gulped and pressed your fingers on top of his, moving them in little circles you knew felt good. Haechan hummed. “Yeah? Do you like it like this?”

The little nod you gave him made him smile. Then it turned into something more ferocious.

“What about this?” he changed the movement, his fingers now gently flicking your nub up and down as well, pressing a bit more that you did it yourself, sending jolts of pleasure across your body.

“Yes,” you stuttered.

“Yeah?” he spoke in the crook of your neck. “Did you make yourself cum as well?”

You threw your head back at the sensation and his tone and his words didn’t help you feel grounded at all. “A few times.”

Or at least you thought you did. Because the way Haechan was making you feel didn’t even come close to the way you managed to make yourself feel alone.

“May I?” his words buzzed against your lips, so polite in contrast with the way his fingertip felt like nudging at your core.

You bit your lower lip and Haechan rubbed his lips on you as a in invitation to bite his lip instead. You inhaled and nodded, pressing your hand on top of his.

He sucked the air between his teeth and kissed you deeply, letting his tongue smack against yours in the wettest and most desperate kiss.

And when you felt his finger slide inside of you it felt so overwhelming that you clenched so hard he had to break off the kiss to shush you. “You need to relax for me, baby, yeah?”

You felt your whole body shake and Haechan kissed the corner of your mouth then your cheek, doing on your jaw and neck.

“It’s going to feel very good, I promise,” he murmured against your clavicle. “That’s right,” he exhaled, feeling your melt in his hold. “My sweet sweet girl, just like that.”

The praise went to your head so badly that you almost didn’t realize the way he managed to move inside and out of you slowly and when he reached a specific spot and curled his finger upwards you jolted in place, grabbing his shoulders with a strong grip, the moan that escaped your throat probably loud enough to wake up the neighbouring passengers.

“You like that, darling?” Haechan kept fucking you on his finger until you couldn’t close your mouth, the sensation sending the most intense jolts of electricity up your legs and torso.

“Fuck,” you exhaled and Haechan chuckled.

“Yeah? My lady became this dirty for me?”

“Shit,” you couldn’t stop yourself. “Oh, heavens.”

The wet sounds and Haechan’s quick breaths made you curl your toes, and when he stopped his hand and you felt his finger exit you mewled a protest.

“More, please?”

Haechan gave you a cocky smile, lifting himself on his knees in front of you and letting you stare at the way he took off his jacket then slowly, so fucking slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt.

His pristine skin peeking underneath the white fabric made your mouth water and you had to sit down as well, leaning in and pressing your lips on his chest.

________

Haechan exhaled and cupped the back of your head and when he felt your delicate fingers open the rest of his buttons he thought he’d cum on the spot.

Your touch was heaven on his chest and your lips started to get too low, very low, down his abdomen until reaching the band of his dress pants.

Your ass was full on display the way your were crouching on all fours and when you lifted your gaze up, your mouth so close to the tip of his clothed cock, he reached and gave you a light spank that made your eyes shine and your tender throat mewl.

He desperately wanted his cock down that throat but he knew it would be insanity.

So he grabbed your chin instead and pulled you upwards to kiss your mouth again, and this time when he pushed you into the mattress he didn’t care to be gentle.

The grunt that left your chest made him worried that he had been too harsh but the way your grabbed his hair and pulled him into the kiss again, wrapping your thighs around his waist told him you weren’t a porcelain doll.

And when he left your gasping mouth to devour your cunt the moan you made and the way your body curved almost broke him.

“Haechan,” you called out and he has never heard someone pronounce his name in a sexier way.

He hummed back, deeply, licking a stripe up from your hole to your clit and resting on it heavily before rolling the tip around it, tasting you, flicking it until he felt your nails dig in the forearm he snaked around one of your thighs.

He pressed his palm on your lower stomach and the way you inhaled deeply made him suck ever more.

________

Legs around his head - the Conductor’s head - and his mouth on you, his arms around your limbs and his scent all over your body, you’ve never felt more ready to die.

“God,” you moaned, shaking in his hold so much that he added more pressure on your hips and when you felt his fingers nudging at your hole again, this time two of them, gently pushing past the rim, you grabbed the sheets underneath your until you had no more strength.

“Please please please,” you mumbled, his fingers hooked in so deliciously that you couldn’t see anymore. You had no idea there was such pleasure out there.

Haechan hummed, almost growled, his mouth full of your and his deep blue eyes staring at you with such intensity that you just had to let go or you would go insane.

“I feel-” you tried, your voice rough.

The man let your clit go for a mere second. “Yeah? Come on, cum for me darling. Come on, my love.”

It was like a switch, his tongue back on you and his fingers stretching you so well that you could only bury your had in the pillow and scream, coming undone until the only thing you could hear was your own breaths and the gentle rumbling of the Train underneath you.

Haechan’s little kisses made your shaking thighs relax and you realized you were clasping his wrist so you let go with trembling fingers.

“My good good girl,” he came towards you, peppering kisses all over your body, his fingers still deep inside of you, feeling the way you kept rhythmically clenching around them.

His lips were wet and red when he reached your mouth.

You exchanged a deep look that made all the hairs on your body rise and when he kissed you slowly and you tasted yourself on his tongue you felt like pouty in his arms.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you whispered against his lips.

Haechan hummed and slid his fingers out, making you hiss. Then with his wet hand he grabbed yours gently and directed it towards his pants.

“Open the buttons,” he ordered and you gulped, sliding your second arm between your bodies and obeyed, opening them one by one and feeling the heat coming from his body.

“Now touch me,” he breathed against your temple and you felt like rolling your eyes back from the sheer intensity of that energy.

You looked up and saw the man of your life close his eyes and furrow his eyebrows almost in pain when you caressed his length from tip until base.

“Fuck,” he gulped. “Harder,” his order made you bit your lower lip and you added a second hand, grabbing it loosely and moving them both up and down.

Haechan wrapped your hands with his and you inhaled shakily at the darkness of his eyes. He guided you, making you squeeze more until his breath went missing.

“Like this?” you asked. He was hot and hard but so velvety that you were afraid to hurt him.

“Just like that, darling,” he reassured you and when you felt the drops of something sliding under your palm Haechan’s jaw clenched. “You’re making me feel so fucking good, good heavens Y/N.”

You picked up the pace, loving his sounds and his expressions and he groaned.

You wanted more. You needed more.

“Please, I need you,” you murmured against his cheek.

Haechan leaned in and bit down on your neck, sucking on your skin and the sting felt so good that you felt your cunt pool up again. “Say that again, darling.”

You exhaled. “I need you, Haechan, please.”

“Where?” he breathed on your open mouth.

“Inside of me,” you choked on air as he reached down and slid his cock out of your hands with a wince, letting it rest between your fold instead.

“Yeah?”

You nodded and gasped, feeling the heaviness on if rub against your sensitivity.

“I need you to stop me at any given moment of discomfort. Do you understand me?”

His tone and demeanor made you almost chuckle. He drove you crazy.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered and Haechan put his tongue inside his cheek at your choice of words.

He intertwined his fingers with yours while the other hand held the base of his cock to align himself with you.

It was so big and thick, two veins running down it similar to his forearms and it made you swallow dryly at the sinful thought that came inside of your head.

But you felt drunk and you didn’t care.

“I want it in my mouth,” you locked eyes with him and Haechan visibly crumbled between your legs.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth and pushed inside of you slowly making you gasp and squeeze his fingers.

“Mmmm,” you furrowed your eyebrows and Haechan stopped, leaning down to shush you, kissing your neck and guiding your breaths until you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him forward.

“Does it hurt?” he murmured, moving his hips ever so slightly, making more and more space for himself.

“It stings, outside, but it feels good, inside,” your phrases were broken and Haechan chuckled against your lips, giving you a quick kiss that you couldn’t concentrate on as he was getting closer and closer to the spot you oh so desperately wanted him to reach.

“It’s going to feel better soon,” he reassured.

“I know. How does- it feel-for-you?” your tiny voice, stuttering because of his shallow thrusts made Haechan dig his other hand in the mattress.

“It feels like heaven, my darling.”

You hummed and then gasped as Haechan felt you open even more, swallowing him so well that he had to compose himself before he could start losing it and ram inside of you.

“Does the thought of me feeling good turn you on, love?” he grabbed your waist, keeping you in place and finally bottoming out.

Your face scrunched and the moan you let out sounded like music to his ears.

“Haechan-”

“Yeah?”

_______

Your breath was so irregular that you felt not enough oxygen getting to your brain.

There were no words to describe how he felt inside of you, intoxicating, sinful, full, so fucking full, he was all over you, inside your body and mind and heart, you wanted him more and more, you wanted him forever.

You stared at him between your lashes and you hoped he could see all of that. You hoped he could understand how he made you feel and you hoped he felt the same.

“I know, baby,” he shushed you, his hips picked up the pace and he was heavy and deep, the sound of his skin slapping yours making you hide your face into the crook of his neck in shame. He let you do that and lifted your hand above your head, pushing into it as much as he wanted to push into you and couldn’t for fear of hurting you.

Your brain went to the image of him fucking you desperatly and animalistically, fast and with no worry.

You desperately wanted that.

You wanted him again. That couldn’t be the last time you saw each other.

No way.

“Haechan, kiss me, please,” you managed to speak between the gasps.

The man leaned down and kissed you deeply, fucking you both with his tongue and his cock, until you moaned into his mouth.

His eyes were feverish and his forehead shining with a thin layer of sweat.

You let his hand go to wrap his neck and dig your hands in his soft messy hair, not breaking eye contact until with no words you both orgasmed and you lulled each other’s shaking bodies to sleep.

---will continue---

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