i spelled tattoo wrong an embarrassing amount of times. also i missed you all so much i could cry. also, i was trying so, so hard to write in past tense because i started out in past tense, but present tense just calls to my soul, man. anyway, watch out for deficiencies in verb tenses (the last section is purposefully in present tense, tho. ran out of patience for past tense), and for all of which, i apologize.
hello again, loves. it's been a while :)
TW: mentions of alchohol, drugs, and suicide bc i write about happy things like that.
*
"You did not!"
"I did!" Yujin yelled, voice metallic and muffled through the phone.
"She- you-" I exhaled explosively, trying to breathe out any acute emotions, though the smile that worked its way onto my lips wasn't planning on going any time soon. "Jin, you've known her for, like... what, your whole goddamn life?!?"
"I know! I'm just so-" She chokes out a happy-sounding "blagh" before bursting into giggles. It had been a long time since Yujin had acted like a lesbian thirteen-year-old watching Emma Watson in the fifth Harry Potter movie, and I relished in its familiarity.
"You're such a moron," I said fondly, pinching my phone between my shoulder and my ear, fishing my keys from the back pocket of my jeans.
"Real talk, though... I'm so glad it's her."
"I'd be surprised if it was anyone else. God, how did you just figure out?"
Yujin cackled, a strange staticky sound on the phone. "Funny story. Remember how Minju had that odd obsession with strip checkers? I know, she totally came up with it, 100%, but it's fun to pretend like she didn't. Anyway, Won was dying, like, losing by a goddamn avalanche- shut up, an avalanche is just a mega landslide! Oh what, I can say "losing by a landslide" but not "losing by an avalanche"? Dude, 'avalanche' and 'landslide' are essentially the same freaking word..."
Putting Yujin on speakerphone, I let her rant pour over the little shop, my little shop, as I got ready for the morning. There wasn't much to do - I flipped the light switches, turned on the strings of tiny white LEDs hung around the ceiling, and wiped down the front counter. Yujin had finally gotten to the part about how she'd seen Wonyoung's tattoo - a camera, just like hers - on her ribcage, which did give a logical excuse as to why she hadn't seen the tattoo before then. Yujin's own was on her hip.
As I brought out my equipment from the back, I couldn't help but marvel at how perfect the camera was for the two of them. Tatoos were supposed to have some sort of symbolism after all - a first meeting; a reoccurring activity, or motif, if you will; a depiction of the people whose souls were bound together.
Wonyoung and Yujin had met (as Yujin had told me many, many times) in third grade when they spotted the security camera particularly close to their desks during art. Alone, they couldn't reach it, but with Wonyoung on Yujin's shoulders, it had only been a matter of minutes before the whole lens was covered in not one, but three layers of paint illustrating a beautiful rainbow.
The two had a knack for finding cameras, which made for a great many of our group action shots being rather annoyingly (and hilariously) photo bombed, both seemingly aware of whenever they were being photographed. The only exception was when they took pictures of each other, as they knew each other's camera-finding tricks. Wonyoung's walls were covered in polaroids of Yujin, Yujin's big, black camera containing candid after candid of Wonyoung.
As long as I'd known them, they'd always been like that: caught up in themselves, knowing the other's habits and ticks, seeing their truest states through a lens no one else could seem to catch them in. Not particularly needing pictures of anyone else. The camera was annoyingly perfect, just like the two of them together.
I tried to ignore the sour pang of jealousy ringing in my chest, but I tasted it in my throat.
They had a picture-perfect tattoo.
My tattoo sucked, because my soulmate tattoo, besides its obvious lack of a pair at the time, was a goddamned mask.
A mask.
What was that supposed to say about my relationship? We meet at a masquerade party? Or on a more serious note, we kept things from each other, secrets hidden away, life lived behind a shimmering facade neither was willing to shatter? It wasn't even like there was some secret meaning that would make a goddamned mask sound appealing - 'mask' came from the latin word 'masca' meaning ghost or nightmare. Frankly, I didn't any of the options.
I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. My time would come. I would be the best soulmate to fucking exist and my soulmate would be a close second. We would be unstoppable, but more importantly, we would be in love.
I tuned back into Yujin's rant. "...she's just so beautiful. Like, cardiac-arrest-level beautiful. Like, how-the-hell-didn't-I-see-it-before beautiful." She sighed contentedly. "I like her very, very much."
"Really?" I mused dryly. "I couldn't tell."
"Shut up," she chuckled. "Can Won and I swing by later today? We're driving all around LA today, so we'll pass Chu Chuu, therefore meaning we will inevitably show up with a shit ton of flowers and goodness knows your blackened soul could use some brightening. Don't want to get all that darkness in your shop. It's bad for customer service."
"I hate you," I said without gusto. "Bring the flowers or else you're not allowed. Also food."
"Will do. Call you back later."
"Cool. See you later, alligator."
"Doubt that, sewer rat."
"Whatever you say, manta ray."
"Curl up and die, butterfly." Yujin hung up.
Sighing, I pulled up Spotify and shuffled my Conan-Gray-Taylor-Swift-David-Bowie-Louis-Tomlinson shop playlist. I hummed quietly to People Watching. That wasn't funny but she laughed so hard she almost cried. They're counting months they've been together, almost forty nine. He's making fun of how she acts around the holidays...
I sat there, half-singing, until my first customer came in.
Someday I'll be falling without caution, but for now I'm only-
people watching.
*
It was a slow day, as most Tusedays were. Of course, there had been a few people - a couple with appointments, a few frat boys in on a dare, a girl who wanted some sick-looking flowers on her collarbone.
Today was Minami's day, although Nanami stopped by to say hello. Both were sweet girls, and both made work a lot easier - mopping, putting away tools, greeting people, wiping down counters, helping fussy customers with no complaints. And of course, they were wonderful to be around; Minami, full of affection and encouragement, Nanami with an unrivaled sense of humor.
Chowon came in for an hour to deal with scheduling appointments and managing our email account. She brought ice cream, which was greatly appreciated, although she and Minami ended up throwing their chocolate chips at each other.
It made me smile, though.
Minami left two hours after Chowon did, throwing her arms around my shoulders and promising to be back on Thursday, even though she didn't need to, considering her work contract said just as much.
The sky dimmed. We were to close at ten, and it was about five.
I sighed, pulling out a package of CVS gummy bears. They would have to keep me entertained until Yujin and Wonyoung showed up.
I was just about ready to take a nap on the counter when the bell above the door was rung so aggressively that I checked to make sure the door was alright.
Annoyed, I glanced down at the lady. Customer service mode: on.
"Hi. What can I get for you toda-" the 'y' in 'today' trailed off into a sort of 'eeeee' sound that I wasn't too proud of.
Customer service mode is experiencing some technical difficulties.
She was clearly annoyed. That much was obvious. There was a sort of aggressiveness, a shuffle in her steps. Her brows were furrowed, hand raking through her hair.
And she was quite possibly one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen.
Ever.
She focused those dark, angry eyes right on me. Jesus. Someone didn't get the right milk alternative in her light-iced venti iced chai latte.
I raised an eyebrow. "Well?"
She scowled. I refrained from screaming and squishing her face. My head felt light.
God, she was so, so pretty.
And so, so angry-looking.
So, so cute.
"I'd like to get a tattoo over a... previous mistake." Her voice was higher, firm, focused closer to her nose. Direct contrast to Yujin's weird, diseased husk of a voice and Wonyoung's drunk-pixie one.
"'Previous mistake?'"
Her nose scrunched up even more. So. Cute. "Yes, previous mistake. Like. Yeah. You know."
I chuckled amusedly. "I don't happen to know, actually. Enlighten me."
Heaving a sigh she mumbled, "My soulmate tattoo."
Whatever lovey feelings I'd had evaporated.
I blinked twice. What? "What?"
She glared up at me. "My. Soulmate. Tattoo. Cover it, please."
I gaped. Closed my mouth. Gaped again.
What? The fuck?
"W-why?"
Eye roll. It was unbearably attractive. "Look, princess, I'm not paying you to ask questions. I'm not paying you to hear my life story. I'm certainly not paying you for therapy. Just give me a tattoo and let me get out of here."
My mind was racing, tumbling over thoughts and questions. My mouth tripped over basic sentences. "I... don't you... why... I-" I sucked in a breath, desperately trying to come up with some excuse. "Soulmatetattoosaretypicallyquitelargeanditmightbedifficulttocoverone."
She blinked in a fashion not different from that in which I had just blinked, confused, trying to comprehend. "Come again?"
"Soulmate tattoos are. Usually. Very large. I. Um. It might be. Very. Hard to. Cover. One." My cheeks and nose flushed with warmth.
"I don't care if the thing looks like a goddamn black hole. Just do it."
"Are you sure?"
"God yes."
I was sure that she had some kind of back story, that she'd met her soulmate, that it hadn't worked out. But I didn't like the idea. I didn't like it at all. It didn't sit well that there was some excited, star-eyed person waiting for their soulmate, just to never find her. The thought put a crack through my heart, honestly. I wanted to wrap her soulmate in a hug. I wanted to be her soulmate's soulmate to make up for her shit.
I needed to stop thinking about this, because the longer I did, the more pissed I got.
She sat down in the chair and began to fold up the sleeve of her tee-shirt. I turned away, fetching the disinfectant, razor, and soap.
"If it makes you feel better, I have the singular worst tattoo ever."
I laughed, back still facing her. "I beg to differ."
"You haven't seen it yet."
"You haven't seen mine."
She didn't answer after that.
I didn't know why I was telling her about my tattoo. I didn't know why I was still talking to her. Her very existence opposed my biggest wish: finding my soulmate.
I turned, bottles and razor clutched in one hand between my fingers.
"So, what were you planning on getting pictured over your-"
Holy. Crap.
I dropped the contents of my hand, taking a step back for balance. My eyes slowly warmed, and then they burned. My gloved hand was over my mouth and all I could smell was plastic and disinfectant and then I couldn't smell because I'm not breathing I'm not breathing I'm not breathing-
I vaguely see her do something that seems like an eyeroll through my peripheral vision. "Oh my god, can you get on with it? I just want to get a tattoo. That's your job, isn't it?"
My gaze was still trained on her shoulder.
I unclasped my hand from around my face. I swallowed. I inhaled. I exhaled. I inhaled again.
I wasn't sure I was really living anymore. It was a weird sort of disassociation, just going through the motions.
On the back of her shoulder was a delicately inked tattoo of a theater mask, ribbons looping once before trailing off underneath it.
I knew it like the back of my hand.
Which was sick. Because on the back of my right hand, under my glove, was the same tattoo.
This was my soulmate.
This was the girl I'd been waiting for my entire life.
This was a girl that didn't want to ever get to know me.
And that sent a fucking sword through my heart.
Her eyebrows were furrowed again. "You know I can just find somewhere else to go, right? We're in LA. It's not like it'd be hard."
Shut up shut up shut up shut UP-
I peeled off my glove and threw it on the ground.
I shoved my hand in her face.
She squinted her eyes in confusion.
Then her eyes widened.
She stood.
Stepped back.
Everything hurt.
The bell at the door rang merrily. I heard my best friend's voice. I smelled the fresh orange blossoms, the sweat pea flowers, the lilies of the valley.
I didn't see as she ran away, but I watched as a single tear fell in-between my feet.
*
Shit.
Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.
Because of course, when I finally hit a stroke of luck and escaped Driggs and the tourists and my worried friends and my watching family, I went to get my tattoo covered by a tattoo artist who had the same fucking tattoo.
I ran away to escape the idea of destiny, just to find shelter with the Destiny, my Destiny, Destiny with a capital 'd' because it didn't belong to Nako or Yuri, it's fucking mine.
I wasn't being fair to it. She at least deserved her preferred pronoun.
Who was I kidding. I didn't even know her well enough to know her fucking pronouns.
Crap. I didn't even know her fucking name.
And since luck was apparently on my side today, I also didn't know where I fucking was.
Track clearly hadn't worked out too well for me, because I ran approximately one hundred feet before stopping to catch my breath and slowing down to a walk.
Funny. Had circumstances not called for distress, I might have enjoyed my stroll around this strange, remote corner of LA.
The fall carried crisp air and warm breezes and trees that should have been orange but were instead drying and browning. I took a deep breath to steady my heartbeat, quickened by running and people I never wanted to meet. The air smelled of... well, air, but there was this faint hint of cinnamon that almost distracted me from the bit that smelled like burning gasoline.
It made for a soothing stroll.
There was a restaurant selling American-ized Chinese that, upon brief entrance, smelled like heaven before fading into orange chicken and grease and overpriced frozen bao. There was a grocery store, a CVS, and a movie theater I know baby Yuri would have adored. My three-year-old sister had already decided her favorite thing of all time was to wander away from me while I was buying popcorn to discover the winding hallways of our tiny theater at home.
I smiled, thinking of her.
The moment passed as I thought of the failures Yuri shouldn't have had to endure.
Failed parents.
Failed soulmates.
There was so much broken glass. The floor was covered in it - once celebratory wine glasses and beer bottles, inexpensive water glasses shared by our small family, the car window.
There were a lot of broken things, weren't there?
I closed my eyes and took a breath. In, two, three. Out, two, three.
The shattered glass, I would discover, hurt quite a bit when it met hands and feet. The ripped marriage certificate hurt less, although it stung when it was shoved into my hands so violently that it cleanly opened my skin.
Although that wasn't what hurt the most.
I wasn't sure if the screaming really hurt my ears, my mind, or my heart.
I think, for all the time I invested into thinking about it, I knew the answer to that wondering.
I shuddered-
-as I heard another one of our water glasses hit the floor.
I really didn't need this crap right-
now!" she shouted. "I just want... just want..." she broke into sobs.
"Spit. It. Out," he spat.
"I want us to be-
-done. I wanted her and me not to be a thing, I wanted her to be-
gone!"
Glass. Screaming. Sobbing.
My finger was bleeding.
I supposed I'd just have to let it dry up.
After all, I wasn't allowed near the bandaids yet. Only Dad and Mom were allowed to touch those.
God.
I rubbed two hands down my face, trying to make my head silent again.
I had stopped walking.
I picked up the pace, heading toward a bench in an open, grassy area with those dried, brown trees.
He came in late, that day. Our fifth grade class sat in our seats, quiet whispers filling the empty space he should have filled, the empty space he should have occupied with math lessons and gentle advice.
Thirty minutes after the first bell, the door swung open. And there he stood, looking more disheveled than we'd ever seen him. Mr. Lee had only ever been gentle advice and fun math lessons, bright smiles and "good job!" stickers, no homework days and class parties.
But it was like seeing a new person.
His hair was wind ravaged, his coat long, dark, and unbuttoned. He was wearing sweatpants and a blue tee shirt, far from his usual teacher's slacks and sweater vest. He was shivering from the wind, but I suspected his hands were shaking for another reason entirely.
Strangest of all was his face.
Mr. Lee, eyes always bright, mouth always turned upward, and freckles always beaming on his cheeks, appeared to have had a rough night.
His whole face was puffy, especially around his eyes. His cheeks had been scrubbed at until they'd turned a feverish pink. He sniffed, nose stuffy, mouth in a flat line.
There had only been the standard "I'm fine"s in response to our worrying, but we got an honest answer when we asked about our favorite subject, better than math and history and writing - Mr. Lee's soulmate.
Someone had tentatively asked the barest questions. "How is Mr. Changbin?"
Mr. Lee had turned around. The class went silent, staring as he stayed firmly facing the wall for three minutes. Finally, we saw his heaving shoulders. He hiccuped.
Mr. Lee was crying.
He spun sharply, eyes blazing with the kind of fire spreading from the corner of a sheet of paper - growing, and disappearing in moments.
"I have something new to tell you all today." His voice was gravelly, breaking at the end of the sentence. "Something I've spent a long time thinking about, something to which I've changed my mind."
He strode between our desks, looking each of us in the eye as he passed. "Soulmates... aren't right."
He paused a second, and continued.
"The binding of one's soul to another's... it's unnatural. It's dangerous. And I hope none of you," he turned in a circle, stare burning through all of us, "ever have the misfortune of finding your soulmate."
He took a sharp breath.
"Soulmates are unpredictable, irreplaceable. How is it that a person who is so dear to another, so intensely linked to the happiness, to the life of their soulmate, can disappear," he snapped his fingers, "so easily?"
His exhaling wavered, weak and hurt.
"How is it that when one has decided this person will be their life and their happiness, their everything, their universe, the person can just DIE?!?"
I jumped, gasping quietly. He shouted the last word with a spark no one had anticipated. I could see it rekindling in his eyes. It had scared me. Judging by the looks everyone else was giving each other, it had scared them too.
But it was gone just as soon.
His breathing was still shaking.
"How is it that they can just leave their partner alone, knowing that they had just taken away all of that? Because let me tell you all, had I done that," he chuckled hollowly, "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. Although I suppose it wouldn't matter, because I wouldn't have to. In that situation, I'd be dead."
I wasn't sure why, but there was a dread that had settled in the bottom of my stomach, cold and hard, like a stone.
He had walked to the back of the classroom. He began to make his way back up.
"From the perspective of the person whose universe was obliterated in the eight seconds of his final breath, I'll have you know that it hurts. It hurts so gods damned much."
And he sounded hurt. He sounded so hurt. His voice was so thin and wounded that my own heart began to hurt a little.
"After yesterday, I was never to see him again. After tomorrow, none of you will ever see me again. But I beg of you all-"
he stared right into my eyes,
"-don't EVER find your soulmate. Don't live to find your only happiness in them. Because when they are gone, you'll find that..."
He drew in a slow breath, voice shaking and thinning, "You have no happiness left."
He walked out. Eventually, someone went to get the upper school dean. She arranged for herself to sub for Mr. Lee for the rest of the day before she could get him back.
She couldn't get him back.
We never saw him again.
The teachers tried to hide their hushed conversations, their hearts grieving loss, their shed tears, but it wasn't long before word had made its way through the school:
Mr. Lee had committed suicide.
I sat on the bench and rocked forward and backward.
The moment would pass, as every moment did.
And I'd go back to my new LA apartment, pack my things, and move-
"-ing away."
There was a stunned silence.
"...w-what," Sakura had whispered, no apparent tone, no apparent questioning. Just 'what'.
Chaeyeon's eyes began to fill with tears. "Far, far away. As in, Korea far away."
Another pause.
"Why?"
God, the strain in Sakura's voice made me swallow down a lump in my throat I didn't know was there.
I turned away from the crack in the doorway, pressing myself flat against the wall.
I knew I shouldn't be listening to this conversation, but I had to. I had to be there in case something happened.
"M-my mom. She got a really important job. And..." I pictured Chaeyeon looking down.
"And what?" Sakura's voice was so soft, like it always is for Chaeyeon, but it cut through the air so deftly that I winced. A knife so sharp you couldn't even feel it.
Chaeyeon's pause indicated she picked up on Sakura's desperation.
"Nothing, love."
"Things making you move hundreds of miles away from me aren't nothing, Chae." I couldn't tell whether she sounded amused or comforting or angry or so hurt she couldn't breathe.
Chaeyeon took another pause.
"She knows. About us."
"Then why doesn't she let you stay?"
"I think you know, love."
I thought for a second. Sure, being gay wasn't the most common thing ever, but it was common enough that there had never been a thing to look down upon and it had been like that for years. Sakura and Chaeyeon weren't separated by, like, fifty years. They were both Korean. So what...
Sakura sounded choked. "God. I- I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."
My heart twinged.
"Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey," Chaeyeon sounded immediately guilty, but not as much as Sakura had just sounded. "No. This isn't about you. This isn't about where you live, or what your parents do, or how much money you have. This is my mother being a classist freak. This isn't on you. This will never be on you."
"But-"
"I won't have it. I will not have it, Miyawaki Sakura."
"I can take a job somewhere, I can-"
"No. There is nothing wrong with the way you live except for the fact that you deserve so, so much more."
"It's not enough to make you stay." Sakura's voice cracked.
Chaeyeon didn't have anything to say to that. I peeked through the crack.
Both were shaking with sobs, holding on to each other like they'd never let go.
They had to, though.
They tried to keep in touch, until one day, Chaeyeon stopped responding. Sakura suspected it was her mother.
Sakura didn't know what to do.
I tried to help. I did.
But I wasn't Chaeyeon.
I wasn't her soulmate.
I wasn't her happiness.
And so I watched. I watched from my place next to her, but even I, the closest person to her, wasn't close enough to stop her. I watched firsthand as a lovesick teenager lost her love.
She didn't know what to do.
She tried to tell herself she'd see her again, but believing doesn't last long when you don't have someone to believe in.
Then she tried to forget her, but forgetting doesn't work when the girl you're forgetting is the most unforgettable person you've ever met.
And then she gave up. Giving up seemed not to have any catches. It just was. It worked. So that is what she picked.
She stopped texting me back just like Chaeyeon did to her. She came to school every day with puffy cheeks and headaches and red eyes sitting on top of blue eye bags.
We were sixteen. It wasn't old enough, but it let her pretend she was older than she was.
I watched, so excruciatingly close, as she drank glass after glass.
I watched as she neglected her homework, failed her tests, decided school didn't matter anymore, gave in to alcohol and drugs.
I watched her give up her hard-earned savings for another glass.
I watched her sell herself for a bag of weed.
I watched as Sakura fell away.
I watched the shell that was her.
"I thought I might find you here," a voice cut through my thoughts. I grabbed on to it, immediately latching my everything on to it, letting it carry me out of Sakura and Chaeyeon and high school.
The hurricane still raged in my temples.
"You didn't walk nearly as far as you thought you did," the voice said.
God, it hurt.
"It took me about five minutes to jog here," it said.
It hurt so bad.
"I made it here, though," it said.
"I'm here," it said.
Then there was a tapping on my knee. A steady breathing next to me. A head on my shoulder.
My vision cleared. My thoughts dissipated.
And sitting next to me on the bench was a girl with long, long legs, wavy hair adorned with a daisy wreath that shone on its dark color, camera tattoo peaking out from beneath her cropped sweater.
She swung her legs back and forth, staring at the dusky sky.
I followed her line of sight.
And there it was. The sky. The same as it had been when I was walking. The same as it always would be.
I looked back down at the head on my shoulder.
I'd briefly seen this girl before I ran. She'd been holding a bouquet of roses. There had been red ones and pink ones and white ones, orange ones, yellow, white-blue, and a dusky purple not unlike the sky above us. They had smelled amazing.
We sat there, staring at the sky for a while.
"She's decent, you know."
"I know."
"Why don't you want her?"
I shrugged lightly, still aware of her head on my shoulder. She didn't lift it.
"She's been waiting for you her whole life. She tries not to show how jealous she gets around our friends, and around us now, because we all have our soulmates." She laughs. It's an airy, bell-like sound. She sounds like a pixie, or a butterfly on a breeze. "Her face gets scrunchy and she blushes from her ears to her nose."
I had seen that. And, unfortunately, I had to admit that it was adorable.
The girl paused.
"She's so hurt."
I didn't say anything.
"I think you are, too," she said tentatively.
I didn't break my silence. I just listened.
"I don't know what's happened to you, but I figure that it goes back far longer than Hye has been heartbroken. Your pain is a sharp nail under your heart. If you sit up straight, it can't hurt you. But if you lose focus for a second, slouch over for a moment, it gets you." She lifted her head and faced me. "It gets you right here." She tapped right above my heart.
"She's heartbroken, though. It's fresh and raw and full of one-word questions only you can answer. She doesn't know why someone who'd never met her would hate her so much. She doesn't know why someone she's loved from a distance, someone she's been waiting for, someone she's been so excited to be united with, would feel the exact opposite."
"I don't hate her," I mumbled half-heartedly.
"But you don't particularly like her."
"I think I would," I ventured, "if I didn't know. About her."
She listened.
"It's not something against her as a person. I've hated the thought of her for a long time."
"Why?"
I paused.
She didn't push.
So I told her. About my parents. About Mr. Lee. About Sakura and Chaeyeon.
She listened.
And then she said, "So you're hurt."
"Maybe a little."
"I'd say maybe a lot." She chuckled. "You're broken," she said, not unkindly.
"Yeah."
"Have you ever thought that she might be able to put you back together? That she might be able to heal you?"
I opened my mouth to argue, to tell her, again, what lost soulmates did to each other.
But then I thought.
"No," I said.
"Consider it," she said.
She reached next to her and picked up a yellow rose that I didn't notice, handing it to me.
"For happiness," she curled my fingers around the stem, her own fingers curling around mine.
"For love," she said. "For new beginnings."
She stood up, brushed off her cargo jeans, and walked back in the direction of the tattoo shop.
*
When I walked back to the shop, I was really just desperately praying that it was still open. It seemed the universe had accepted me into its religion, because it closed at ten and I had gotten there at 9:23.
I quietly opened the door. The bell chimed cheerily.
Hyewon's eyes darted up to where I stood. One of my heartstrings twanged at the puffiness around her eyes.
She sniffed and ran a hand over her cheek, then through her hair.
She stood where she was. Didn't come forward. Didn't run away. She just stood.
"Hi," I croaked.
"Hi," she responded, voice weak and wispy.
The pause between us definitely wasn't the comfortable listening pause the girl and I had shared.
"So," my hand flew to the nape of my neck. "I don't really... think much of soulmates."
She snorted, and the wave of relief that rushed through me at that spark of sarcasm, that message that she would be okay, was like a tsunami. "That much is clear."
"But..." I paused. "I think I want to try?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure? If you were feeling like running, let me point you to the door and we can exchange proper goodbyes this time."
I winced. I deserved that. "Yes. I want to try."
Panicked, I realized she might not want to try anymore. "Of course, only if you want to. Because that matters. That matters a whole lot. So if you want to, I would one thousand percent love to. Try. That is. Yes," I backtracked.
She laughed weakly. "I would like to try. I think."
There was another tight pause.
"I'm sorry I ran," I started hesitantly. "My experience with soulmates has been... not great. I just have a hard time believing that any of them can actually be that great. And that getting one and losing them could even be survivable."
"I'll have to introduce you to some soulmates, then."
Her face was thoughtful for a second, and then she continued. "See the flowers?" I looked around the room and was pleased to find vases of sweat peas and azaleas and so many roses in the back, by the chairs, and on the counter. "Those are from a shop run by two women, one of whom has a soulmate." She sucked in a deep breath. "Every day, regardless of whether Sooyoung comes into the shop or not, Jiwoo brings her a flower. Not a mean one, one with meaning. A white lily. A red carnation, tulip. A hyacinthe. A pansy. A honeysuckle. 'My love for you is pure'. 'My heart aches for you', 'I'm declaring my love', 'Your loveliness makes my heart race', 'Thinking of you', 'I am devoted to you'. Sometimes she'll just give her a bunch of daisies because daisies mean true love."
She stopped for a second, regrouped. I watched her face as she thought, as the gears in her mind turned, reaching and finding the right thing to say.
"The girls in here before, they've known each other their entire lives. They fight often, but they have an uncanny knack for making up. They can't stay angry at one another. They value their love more than their grudges. Wonyoung does a better job at it than Yujin, but they both try." She exhale-laughed. "They've loved each other for twenty two years and they'll love each other a lot longer."
I tried to think of something to say. "They all sound... nice."
She actually laughed that time, and I took pride in the fact that I made her laugh like that. "They are all indeed very nice."
I hesitated. "I'm scared."
"So am I. But since when did fear get in the way of things that bring us joy? I sure as hell see a lot of fear around here, but in the end, people let it go, just for a second, in exchange for something important enough to be etched onto their skin." Her eyes slid to the left, remembering the stories of her customers. "For some, it's to prove their hard won independence. For some, it's a commemoration to someone who didn't deserve their fate. But whatever it is, fear doesn't hold them back. Not from something they'll come to love."
I pursed my lips. "That's lovely and all, but it doesn't work out for everybody. Our tattoo is a freaking mask. What the fuck does that even mean? Like, for us? It's not really a good tattoo to have."
She breathed. She seemed to do a lot of breathing.
Of course she did. She's human.
God, I needed to stop thinking.
"I thought so too, but whatever it means, whatever it meant for us, it doesn't have to mean forever. People think that things like these, like fear and love, are set in stone, but..."
I almost smiled as her ears, her cheeks, and the tip of her nose turn were dusted pink. "I read this really great book, and even though it was about dragons and gay unicorns and stupid wizards, it made one really, really good point, over and over and over again: stone crumbles. We met because..." She was hurt. I could see it so clearly. "You wanted to conceal something about yourself that you didn't want. In a way, it was masking what we could have been, hiding it away from me. And I get it. Whatever. It's fine." She cleared her throat, not fine at all. "But just because we started with secrets doesn't mean we can't end with them shared."
I thought about that for a second. And another.
I stayed silent for a moment longer.
And then:
"My name is Eunbi," I said quietly. "Kwon Eunbi."
"And my name is Bond. James Bond."
"Dude, shut up. I'm trying to be serious."
Her giggle was like the bell at the door. "I'm Kang Hyewon, and you can't 'dude' me. We're supposed to be, like, dating. You don't 'dude' your date."
Kang Hyewon. I wanted to wrap my tongue around the words.
I took a risk. "Kang Hyewon," I said.
"Kwon Eunbi," she said. I liked that.
Kang Hyewon cleared her throat again. "I can still give you a tattoo, if you want. Almost like... another soulmate tattoo. But one that we pick. Our chance to start over. Our chance to pick something other than what was... written in the stars, I suppose. If we have any bond, it'll be our own bond. It'll belong to us."
I liked that very much. "You have a way with words, Kang Hyewon."
"I learned from Wonyoung. Are you in?"
"I am."
On my other shoulder, she carefully penned out a lock, and in a feat that would have taken massive skill, she tattooed a key on the back of her left hand. As I am being painfully honest right now, I'll have you know it was rather impressive. Very, very impressive. So impressive, I might have wanted to start the whole dating thing right then and there.
She said, "We'll start slow."
I nodded.
And then I was gone.
*
two months later
"Looks like they're getting along well," Yujin stands on her tip toes to whisper in my ear. A shiver runs down my spine, and my ears feel hot, despite the obviously not lovey-dovey sentence she's whispered.
I smile down at her as she watches Hyewon and Eunbi.
I don't need to look back up to see what they're doing, because they've been doing it every day for the past few months. Hyewon talks a mile a minute, waving her hands around furiously as she always does when she's speaking, and Eunbi sits there, clearly not listening, feeling safe, and lost in her admiration for Hyewon's face (which she texts me about at the witching hour multiple times a week).
Yujin slips her hand in mine, and I wonder if I'll ever not get heart palpitations from the feel of her palm against mine. I lace our fingers.
I rest my chin on her shoulder and whisper, "We should go. Leave them to their bonding and shit."
She beams at my use of profanity, which she says "isn't normal" and is "too impure for someone as innocent as you" and "doesn't sound right in your pretty voice", statements, all of which make my face feel like its on fire. I usually find, in that situation, that finding the words to dictate the point that I want to make ("I curse all the goddamn time, Yujin. It's not that weird.") never come easily.
Dropping the yellow roses Eunbi asked for on the floor behind the counter where Hyewon can't see them, Yujin waves goodbye to an unseeing Hyewon and knots her fingers with mine. We swing our arms on the way to the car.
Before she turns the key, Yujin waits and we both stare through the window in the front.
I bite my bottom lip, corners of my mouth curling upward, as Eunbi picks up the roses and says something to Hyewon. Hyewon slaps her hand over her mouth and throws her arms around Eunbi. We can hear her screams through the window and the car.
For happiness. For love. For new beginnings.
And then we are gone.
*
i missed y'all so hard you don't even know. i'm so, so, so, so, so sorry that i didn't update for, like, a literal year. school has been a murder and writing is hard lmao. either way, i wish i'd made time just so i could talk to y'all. i really missed you.
hope you're all doing well :)
thanks for reading, requests (while still slowly being fulfilled) are welcome, and i love you so so so so so SO much <33