celestial strings | h.js

two.

"[Name], come on!"

As he pulled your lifeless body up, wanting to drag you to a place where help would be available, he briefly caught the dead body lying a few feet away. Shocked, he lost his footing with a yell and fell hips first onto the ground. You fell against him, and he immediately tugged at your figure, pulling you close. Jisung unknowingly wiped his cheeks of soft tears as he watched the options narrow down one by one. He was racing the clock and losing.

The dead body, and the decapitated head, were an issue. Your injuries, paired with the gruesome scene, were a connection effortless to make. Jisung didn't know what would happen to you if you got charged with murder. You weren't legally an adult yet, so your sentencing should be light, but that only applied to people like himself, not people like you. Especially not when you murdered a high-level authoritative figure. He could be sending you straight to jail by calling the police.

"But–ah, shit," he croaked and looked down at you. He caressed your face and begged, "Damn it, [Name]. Wake up, please! Please!"

He sat there and he cried like he hasn't in a while. He remembered tears rolling like this when he was younger. Back then, he had a pair of scraped knees because he ran too fast down the stairs at the park. Fat, sympathy-inducing tears falling down his cheeks with no one around to see. Jisung looked around him to soak to in the the vacant area, and he could not stop crying for help, for his friend, for you. He couldn't call the police. He couldn't trust the ambulance. He couldn't reach his friend for help fast enough. He couldn't scream for anybody's help. He couldn't even rely on himself to get you to safety.

There was one last resort. Something he desperate didn't want to think about.

The soulmate string.

Jisung hiccuped between sobs. Maybe he should end it here with you. Perhaps he should just kill himself and die on the ground, holding onto you.

He slowly scooted to the wall of the bridge and leaned against it. He hugged you tightly, the skin that went over the string surrounding your arms bleeding with every deep cut he pressed into himself. It was a form of self-afflicted punishment for being useless, helpless, and outright terrible. This was all, still, his fault. If only he knew how to fly, or was smarter and stronger, then he wouldn't be debating if he should save you or kill himself.

He found himself laughing after a while. This must be how you felt just now, except unlike him, you wouldn't struggle against his decision. You were breathing lightly on his chest, your life being drained away slowly. You would do what he chooses to do, unlike him.

"Okay," he told himself, the same way you told yourself.

This—saving you—was the one thing he could do for you. This was the one thing only he could do for you. Not just the breakage of the red string of fate, but also eating dinner with you at the convenience store, inviting you over to his home, introducing you to all of his friends, sharing your phone numbers, feeding the messenger bird you sent him, holding your hand, holding you close, bleeding and cutting his flesh, staying with you despite everything, and choosing you over anything.

He will choose you over anything. Even if you two are not soulmates anymore; even if he suffers through the process; even if you forget his name, his face, his voice, and his warmth.

Putting you on the floor gently, Jisung leaned close and pressed your forehead to his. He nudged the tip of your nose against his, his tears mixing in and rolling down to your lips where you could taste the saltiness if you were conscious. He timidly pressed his lips against yours for a moment, then pulled away to pepper kisses over your face. You would be okay, he thought, and it soothed him.

He slowly reached for your hand and fumbled for your pinky finger.

"I love you so much. You will not remember," he whispered. "I never want any other soulmate but you."

Jisung intertwined his fingers with yours. He couldn't feel it, but the magic flowed directly from his veins to your body, seeping through your skin and finding the source of your discomfort. A bright white light surrounded him. It felt graceful, warm with a tint of coolness, like clean river water flowing over him. The magic was great, but the execution was not. As the healing process began, the blade-like strings strung between your flesh started to pull away at the same time as your consciousness returned.

You screamed in pain, your body jerking about as your hands scratched at your arms, hoping to stop the tearing. Tears welled in your eyes, and wasted no time to fall. Jisung was thrown into a fit of panic once again. He pressed his hands against your body, keeping you down and apologizing repeatedly for something he had no control over. It felt like he was gutting you alive and hated it. He wanted to die. You continued to scream and cry and squirm under him, and he just—sigh. God, he wanted to die.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered near your head, feeling snot run down his nose. It was impossible not to cry with you. "Please just endure it. Please! I'm sorry, but please!"

He could see your wound heal as your strings detached from your skin one by one, slowly fading into nothingness. The blood stopped pouring out of you eventually, leaving only what previously stained you. Your screaming gradually stopped once all the strings were pulled out of your flesh, and Jisung shakily let his forehead rest against yours.

Your chest heaved more visibly to showcase your breathing. He pressed his hand to your heart, feeling for its pace. One, two, one, two, one, two. He smiled, and he blacked out.