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taekwoon/wonshik; pg13; soulmate!au; ~5200. taekwoon has never believed in the idea of true love. wonshik comes in, and well.
an unexplainable phenomenon, they said, shaking their heads, a possible crackle of the television signal, broadcasted when he was a mere five year old. unknown.
it's all that rings in taekwoon's head when his sleeve is sagged up â an accident just waiting to happen -- as he tries to unlock the door, groceries balanced dangerously in his grip. the plain 1 day raised on the skin near the inside of his elbow serves as an unchanging reminder. he tries his best to push the thought and the words away -- taekwoon has since long accepted that he doesn't believe it. he doesn't believe the countdown.
goosebumps on skin -- the cold temperature -- taekwoon steps into his apartment, the unfamiliar feeling of queasiness and mild excitement building up. the last one, something that he doesn't understand.
taekwoon has never believed in the idea of true love.
---
the next day is strangely dry - taekwoon, who's now used to the moist of the melting ice, is caught off guard as he gets out. he helplessly stares at the weather forecast application in his phone - looks back down to his coat, jeans, layered everything - and lets out an almost inaudible but defeated gurgle. it just comes out - he clears his throat, hoping nobody noticed.
it's not the dryness of summer, though. it's the kind of cold dry, the one that's mild but piercing - but you will, of course, sweat a little, if you dress up like a snowstorm is about to happen.
he's already running late to work. not to mention that he needs to get his coffee.
at first, the steps are indecisive - to the left or back? - but he decides to just go.
thoughts reduced to white noise in the back of his head, taekwoon shrinks his posture a little bit to accommodate the bustling others with him. he can hear it, though, in the back of his head: stop attempting to be tiny, you just become hazardous when you get backaches, his sister chimed. his posture has always been bad, his body always too tall for him. that's just what taekwoon realizes. he's been attempting to follow his older sister's words, though it really is hard.
footsteps never needing his own brain - the path imprinted, months and years of the routine.
the bell signals that he opened the door.
it's not the smell of americano that lulls him to focus; not the smell of fresh out-of-the-oven bagel - but the voice that he doesn't recognize (which is saying a lot), a deep "welcome!" that makes taekwoon's gears hum.
the sense of curiosity, the one that he tries to keep still, just - flickers.
taekwoon doesn't know why he feels it, why it's just there. he's heard enough deep voices to last for a lifetime - but in the bustling cafÊ with its customers unknowingly participating in a competition of who has the loudest voice, it stands out; the soundwaves clearly buzzing into his ear and captured by his nerves. taekwoon doesn't even notice he's cocking his head to hear it again - the voice just sounds like it belongs to someone who would love to have unplanned conversations at death a.m. because of general sleeplessness, like him.
glancing to the clock, the first busy hour of the day starting. taekwoon always makes sure not to be here then. someone is trying to discreetly check it too, sweaty and fidgeting, even in this cold.
the person in front of him finally steps out of the way with a strawberry smoothie in tow. apparently, she decided to just wait there instead of moving out of the way.
"morning! what are you ordering?"
taekwoon looks up to see fading red hair stuffed inside a -Â formal styled? - snapback, the wide welcoming grin startling him out of the daze. it's that voice again. he mumbles out his order and name, hoping that it can be deciphered while he fakes being busy with his phone - then he's paying and moving to pick it up. taekwoon can see that the person's making his coffee, another employee taking his place at the cashier.
the coffee is passed to him, warm hands brushing with the ever-cheerful "hope you enjoy your day!", and taekwoon walks out, heartbeat thrumming with the infectious energy the crowd gives off.
it must be that.
(in the office, five minutes late, when taekwoon finally takes his first tentative sip from the coffee - he almost shudders, the sweet sweet taste of over-sugared coffee still on his tongue. two extra spoonfuls of sugar, even though his quiet "one spoon only, please.")
---
he finally gets it when he gets home and showers, the -8 hrs raised like a bomb on his skin; a reminder, a death sentence - only some of the million names however people call it. he forgot, how convenient. taekwoon calculates the time - and he's rewinding to the coffee shop encounter, the fading dyed hair, and the warm smile and deep voice.Â
and nothing. no heartbeat picking up, no butterflies in his stomach, no falling and flying sensation like how the his high school textbooks told him about.
taekwoon has never believed in the idea of true love.
---
he keeps getting reminded of it.
about those countdowns. it just popped out of their skins one night, while everyone was sleeping (and if they were not, it always popped up in their backs). scientists tried to explain, some were convinced that it was the dates of the apocalypse - but no. it was a countdown to when you met your true significant other.
some were disappointed by that finding.
taekwoon always had his suspicions of whether it was really true or not. it escalated in a blurry memory when he was ten, young enough to not understand yet old enough to do - his sister, skin showing a delicate -2 min when her whole body was almost thrown off the balcony of their school. and there taekwoon was, the angry screaming and subdued trashing around in the background, staring at the now -3 min on her arm while she looked emptily to the ground below. her pair was a stranger to both of them, her classmate. she was pretty and she didn't want his sister.
as he grew older, he saw more. the forced smiles, the tight grips - done as if to prevent each other to fly off from their grips.
even the scientists were convinced that every pair equals to true love.
but for taekwoon, it's hard to believe that - true love - when all he notices is that it's not.
---
it's only a few days after that they finally meet up again.
but this time, he's not in a coffee shop. he's in an art gallery that his sister recommended, and being taekwoon, he couldn't say no ("send pictures when you get there!" was the one that made him tie up his shoelaces and made him rethink his life priorities).
the snapback and red hair is still there, and there's the sliver of knowing inside those eyes.
two day jobs, taekwoon guesses?
"ticket for one," he feels guilty, but he doesn't know why. maybe because he's just ignoring the fact that their countdown is exactly the same. maybe because he's supposed to blush, to giggle, to whatnot - but it just isn't there. it's just the sense of curiosity - and that's because the fact of this person being his 'true love'. other half. the one - and other countless of names. officially, it's the pair. but it sounds stiff for taekwoon.
a slight nod, a discreet glance to the surrounding. after that, a "you know, right?"
taekwoon's mouth opens up, wants to say a variation of yes/no/what, but no sound comes out. embarrassed, a little bit nervous, or something - he blurts out a phrase that he hasn't even thought of before. "when can we meet?"
silence where the fingers tear off the ticket from the bulk. taekwoon already regrets ever opening up his mouth.
but then: "six p.m. today, end of shift. outside?"
the warm smile is back, and taekwoon pays for the ticket, a small nod making its way up. but smiling is infectious, makes his own face muscles try to move upwards - so he does exactly that.
"it's, uh, wonshik, by the way."
---
"i don't have a specific job," wonshik hums, explains, foot tapping the ground in a rhythm that soothes taekwoon. they meet up, like he said - outside, wonshik already having two cups of hot tea for the moist winter that came back. it's not too sweet, thankfully, and it keeps his throat warm. "i'm just - there, i guess."
he apologizes profusely when taekwoon tells him about the coffee, not even excusing himself and just telling up straight "i don't know if people are joking or not when they say they won't have heaps of sugar for coffee."
and still, no heart leaping out of his throat.
but it does make him warm, wonshik beside him, a small smile playing on his lips as the jokes come out of wonshik's mouth and the talks being talked about.
they don't mention about the countdown.
taekwoon's kind of glad, but sad, when it's suddenly an hour that passes and wonshik needs to take the last train home to his area.
"i'll keep in touch," wonshik grins.
his voice is soft in reply. "me too."
---
from: wonshik (6:55 pm) hey^^ howre u!! nighy shiftt now
to: wonshik (10:23 pm) you can text people when you work..?
---
-2 weeks, is what the countdown says when the accident happens again - his forearm being exposed, block letters raised neatly from his skin, but taekwoon doesn't feel the apprehension so much now.
just overwhelming queasiness.
taekwoon has never believed in the idea of true love.
---
wonshik is everywhere, is the next thing taekwoon realizes.
and by everywhere, not the up-in-your-face everywhere, but the invisible kind of everywhere. the background kind of everywhere. working odd jobs that includes repairing a leaky roof, selling postcards and stamps, being a dog walker, tending the zen garden one of the tycoons living in the area has, helping old ladies cross the road. most days he's not here - another area taekwoon never has the motivation to explore, probably.
he sees, always, but he never goes near him.
but true to their words, they keep in touch. on days when they do meet up, it's something that taekwoon looks forward to.
a distraction from monotony.
---
"tell me why i see you everywhere," is taekwoon's question this evening, the cold starting to mellow out, enough for him to just wear a thick sweater with a plain singlet inside. wonshik's wearing a parka and plaid shirt.
they're in the cafĂŠ where they first met - in genre words: romantic and cheesy. but wonshik reels him in not because of that, but with the promise of him having the sometimes-an-employee discount.
"you see me?" is his surprised reply. "how'd come i never see you?"
taekwoon murmurs an intelligible i'm quiet.
"ah," a foot is nudging his. "well, i told you," wonshik reminds. "i'm just there."
this feels like a date. taekwoon sure feels like it is. he sips his coffee, now back to his usual without wonshik's extra two spoonfuls, and the mentioned is sucking up an iced cafe latte as if it's the best in the world.
"where do you live then?"
there's a chuckle that reverberates inside taekwoon's chest. "more like where do you sleep in," and then he clears his throat. "usually changes after a few months - shortest was a week."
taekwoon nudges his own foot with his. wonshik must've picked it up - explain.
"spontaneous living. and it's just the fact that my wage is up-and-down most of the time - unstable and dangerous. so when the landlord comes knocking, you just pack up and pay with the largest amount of money you have without starving yourself for the next two days."
he's telling it as if that's common knowledge. taekwoon's kind of envious.
---
after that, he spends his day halfheartedly daydreaming about wonshik's so called 'spontaneous living'. halfheartedly, because he spends most of that time trying to not daydream.
someone knocks on his cubicle.
taekwoon looks up, expecting a familiar face with a bored expression - he's worked in this office for several years - but the person in front of him has a newbie aura and stiff posture. he can tell.
"i'm," the intern introduces himself, scratching his cheek. an awkward smile is there and there's dimples making its way up the face. "uhm, lee hongbin. intern, and the director wanted to see you?"
a few years ago, maybe taekwoon's heartbeat would've been increasing, more thumpthumpthump, a nervous-excited emotion coursing its way through his body, even though he tries to not show it. but now it's all a weary sigh, shoulders staying still, and a flick of an annoyed feeling. "what's it about?"
the intern is intimidated. taekwoon wishes he wasn't. "i," he says. "uh, really don't know."
taekwoon just stays in his spot with his eyes closed shut, wondering if he can get another view besides the director complaining about the work of his other coworkers and praising his work. he can do without the constant negativity she exudes. he can imagine lee hongbin just fidgeting there, wondering if he did anything wrong - and with that, taekwoon grunts.
"yeah," he admits defeat, says, looking up to see the intern's concerned expression. "i'll be there."
---
truth is, he kind of hates how he's living right now.
it's been years since taekwoon's taken a detour, years since he's stepped away from his routine. it's always sleep, work, eat, sleep again - nowhere to escape and nowhere to run to, only books and coffee and tv. the office seems more like a money-making jail than a money-making building to him. monotony is what he hates, even though when he accidentally tells people that, they always laugh. well, you look pretty monotonous for me, they reply, and taekwoon wants to retort: that's not how i want to be like.
meeting wonshik seems like an adventure. taekwoon doesn't feel it, doesn't understand it, the love - but being near him ignites that want to break out from life and experience something new. he's experiencing something that he thought didn't hold so much of an importance to him - but now, it does. kind of. a lot.
and, quietly, discreetly, he thanks the -2 month on the inside of his elbow - even after years of convincing he doesn't believe it, that the countdown can always be untrue.
because without it, they both wouldn't know.
(but still, taekwoon does feel guilty about it, because he's treating him as if they're part of a dirty affair - never mentioning him in boring morning talks in the office or when he has the chance to visit his sisters. because wonshik is such a nice person and he's brilliant like the skies above, but taekwoon doesn't deserve him. will never deserve him.
wonshik deserves someone that would love him like the textbooks describe - and that person is not taekwoon.)
---
from: wonshik (10:01 am) u have any plans for 2day? cuz morn shift only :)))!!! & im alone.. he he het
to: wonshik (10:31 am) lets have dinner, my place?
---
the clinks are the only sound in the deafening silence, quiet munches in the space between them.
taekwoon knows he's stupid the first time wonshik showed up, hair mussed up, dirty jeans and an oversized jacket adorned and his backpack slung on one shoulder - the one that weighs like a body is in it. and there's him with the formal shirt and trousers, dinner some expensive steak he bought. like, this is wonshik. he has time to rescue cats that are stuck on a tree, but never for formal dinner. taekwoon knows that already, but yet.
wonshik seems nice enough, laughing softly and saying thanks when he saw the set-up, but they both know what's on each other's mind.
he doesn't even notice the rapid taps his own foot is making, louder and louder each minute until taekwoon jolts a bit in surprise. wonshik looks at him, steak already long gone and mashed potatoes ravaged. his eyes are still having their usual lightness, a small smile lighting up his face - but it's on one side. mischievous, like a kid.Â
"this is boring."
taekwoon almost chokes on his carrots.
"sorry," his voice is quiet, mumbling, eyes focused on the smithereens of meat that he cut up in uncertainty.
the sound of chair scraping is what makes taekwoon widen his eyes - what? a this is boring warrants for wonshik to bail out of a dinner altogether? he looks up mostly in disbelief, but then wonshik is smiling so wide that his nose is scrunched up a little, tugging his red hair out of his face. "let's go to my place instead."
something, again, like the first time taekwoon met him, hums - and that's how he ends up in a cramped flat that reeks of mold and warmth, his shirt being sweated through, wonshik inserting a dvd of some "shitty gore movie" (his words) and settling beside him. their shoulders touch, wonshik only in tanks, and he feels the heat of skin against his skin, only meagre fabric separating them.
taekwoon shivers a little.
they talk a little bit, laughing and offering each other noises of disgust ("so much better than that boring dinner," and it doesn't sting taekwoon, because it's true - for both of them) - but it's only when the credits roll that taekwoon realizes that wonshik has fallen asleep and he doesn't even notice that he's stroking his weirdly soft fluffy hair, black roots showing through, his whole being heavy.
he closes his eyes then, noise drowned, breathing out -
guilt slowly building up again.
taekwoon has never believed in the idea of true love.
---
the snores and dim light are the things that are registered to his brain when his eyes crack open.
taekwoon jolts awake and eyes wide open - and wonshik yelps as he's accidentally knocked off - staring in shock as the clock keeps on ticking. it's incomprehensible by him, the time - past eleven a.m., past busy hour, past working hour. yesterday was tuesday and today is wednesday. according to his boss: the slowest day of the week, the most boring.
that probably does not allow him to skip work.
"earth to taekwoon-hyung," is a distant voice calling out past his shock. "earth is calling."
"the office is on the earth-" taekwoon mutters, mumbles. "i'm late to work."
wonshik's laugh is boisterous, loud, and it seems like a bomb dropped on them on a silent day. only the birds are chirping, the quiet and low conversations being exchanged, the humming of car engines and toddlers yelling at each other. but it's all muted, faded, but wonshik's laugh anchors taekwoon back to the ground. "work?" he's smiling, shaking his head. "you deserve a day's off."
"i -" but taekwoon knows it's true. and it embarrasses him. what kind of robot is he? "i never not go to work without calling the office the first thing in the morning, so i... think they'll be suspicious..."
"who cares? let's go."
taekwoon has never both agreed and disagreed so much to a statement.
they quibble on the matter of who's going to shower first ("it's me who smells like i've been rolling in dog shit and i actually really feel like one") and who's going to cook breakfast. in the end taekwoon goes to the small kitchen to cook omelette and wonshik goes to the shower.
he turns back with the eggs to see wonshik yawning and scratching his upper arm, lifts his sleeve - and there, there it is, the imprint that has both been familiar and unfamiliar to him, the reason why they both even gravitated to each other. in the exact same spot, the exact -9 weeks raised in block letter neatly, the exact. same. thing.
wonshik smiles when he notices and taekwoon's throat tightens.
---
"it's cloudy," taekwoon's eyes squint when they both step out of the rundown apartment wonshik's in, the old and creeping embarrassment of making useless small talk settling in the back of his head. but he ignores it, because taekwoon knows that wonshik likes it. useless small talk is better than both of them being quiet.
wonshik steps out after that, adjusting his thin jacket. there's small holes on it- but it looks homey, comforting, worn out by the times it must have been used. "yep," wonshik acknowledges it, and smiles at taekwoon who just kind of freezes. they both stare at each other, then wonshik blinks. "you have any idea where to go?"
taekwoon opts for shaking his head.
wonshik chuckles. "me too."
"i've never - you know - skipped work like this, so."
their footsteps are in sync with each other, a tiny detail that brings a small brand of warmth in taekwoon's chest, flickering. wonshik closes his eyes, and taekwoon can imagine what he's hearing - their breaths, birds still chirping, people shouting, though not unkindly, at each other. the small puff of breath when the days are cold like this. "it's natural for me," he confesses. "probably contributes to my habit of being kicked off work."
taekwoon's used to suppressing his smiles, so he doesn't do that. "probably."
but then he feels it: it's there, the elephant in the room - blending in with the crowd, eyes always looking over them, though more critically at taekwoon than it does to wonshik. because it can see through both of them - and it sees straight through taekwoon, who has spent all his life before convincing that he doesn't believe in the marking inside his elbow, that countdown. but here he is, taking a walk with his pair, unsure about everything.
the queasiness is back.
wonshik points out the things taekwoon wouldn't see so much in his area ("the kids? opting to help out the elderly fix their stuff up instead school") and laughs so, so much. he doesn't know if it's because the atmosphere between them is brimming with awkwardness or because wonshik truly finds these things amusing.
they sit down in the bench, near the river that's unusually clear. taekwoon doesn't ask about it.
"this is nice," wonshik says, fingers drumming on his own thighs. "thanks."
"thanks," taekwoon repeats without thinking. wonshik doesn't notice it.
---
it happens again: the realization that he's not in love with wonshik.
wonshik dropped him off with a light smile that outmatches the light of his apartment corridor. repeating, "thanks for today," no advancements, no flirty smiles, no romance development. just wonshik saying thanks, tipping his snapback a little bit and disappearing to the outside of the door.
taekwoon sees that -9 weeks on wonshik's skin and his whole mood drops dead.
---
he watches intern lee hongbin get promoted to a full-time employee and his mood is somehow lifted.
---
"so," his sister sidles up to him after their mother has finished reprimanding them, her aged nose twitching at the smell of alcohol on both of their lips. it wasn't taekwoon's fault, really. he's just too much of a follower and his sister a rebellious leader and that leads to sharing a bottle of soju on the way to their parents' house. itls been months since they went here. "how's life?"
taekwoon chokes at how absurd that question is in this context. "life?"
"life," his sister repeats, chortling at the pillow couch that fell down because she shifted back to a more decent position. "yadda yadda. i'm not interested in your boring work. i assume you met 'the one' already?"
the room stills. taekwoon takes a sip of the broth their mother forced onto them.
he can feel her grimace. "that bad? they haven't tried to kill you, right?"
how easy those words flow out of her lips kind of startles taekwoon. how lightly she mentions that day when she was supposed to met her pair that never really was her pair; how easily she just mentions that attempt where her supposed one was attempting to murder her. he almost drops the broth.
"whatâ wonshik would never do that," and taekwoon can almost see her storing this information in.
there's a solemn tone in her voice. "then what? petty fights? constant arguments? them abusing you? i swear to god taek i'll kick their ass if i have toâ"
"he's perfect in every way," he cuts in, and taekwoon can see her eyes widen, her muscles relaxing, but only slightly. he has the urge to just stay silent with the excuse of i'm drinking the broth but it's just such a stupid excuse that he forces his muscles to just not move. "it's just â me."
her muscles completely give away and she finally drinks her share of the broth.
"ah," is the only thing she offers.
taekwoon has never believed in the idea of true love.
---
to: wonshik (7:22 pm) immm kidna drunk, my sis wnated to drink so i did it wih her
to: wonshik (7:25 pm) turns out prnts ar nott at alll happey when ther kidz liek... drink belw threi rufs
to: wonshik (7:26 pm) so thy like.....,,,,. kickd us out for th nigth???????? my sis has hous nearby but like
from: wonshik (7:30 pm) where r u
from: wonshik (7:32 pm) nvermind found a report from the police station abt a drunk tall guy wearing sweatrs a few blocks away im betting its u. coming! ^_^
---
"i'm so drunk," taekwoon quietly slurs when wonshik hauls his body up the rickety staircase of his new (old?) apartment, even shadier smells of alcohol wafting through the air. "really drunk, and so sorry for um. uh."
taekwoon tumbles down to the conveniently located couch that wonshik has allocated near the door of his room. his head pounds and he can see three wonshiks with black hair. there's a poisonous guilt lodged in his throat, but it's mostly dulled by the godawful aftertaste of the three cans of beer he compulsively bought. he really needs parental supervision when he's drunk.
"there's no need to be sorry," wonshik singsongs and produces a whopping 1500 mL water bottle from his cooler. "but you're gonna drink this and pee a lot. not on my couch though. in the toilet."
taekwoon grunts in agreement.
wonshik settles down with a can of coke on the chair he pulled close and taekwoon opens up the water bottle and gulps it down. his vision clears a little, but only slightly. he can see that wonshik's just wearing long jeans and a t-shirt, and that -10 weeks imprinted on the skin. it's actually amazing how he can see it with this kind of eyesight.
"you're cute when you're drunk."
"everybody says that," taekwoon mumbles. drinks another gulp. "i'm never getting drunk again."
wonshik chuckles. "your sister's gonna barge in your room bringing an 8-pack of alcohol and you're just gonna drink it."
that is scarily true.
the silence stretches over them like a haze. comfortable enough, but you know it's there.
the poison leaks, though, in taekwoon's throat. spreads over him like an annoying itch that he thinks he must scratch. his brain says stay quiet and enjoy this solitude. his brain also says to apologize for the inconvenience he must've caused.
"i'm sorry for this," taekwoon finally lets out.
wonshik doesn't know what he's talking about besides the superficial. his eyes soften, and the touch of his fingers clears taekwoon's head a bit â just a bit. everything is still overwhelming. "don't blame yourself," so why does it feel like small daggers are striking his own abdomen? "just get better for now."
"you deserve better than this," he manages to get out.
"you're more than i deserve," and that doesn't make sense in taekwoon's head. even if the poison in his throat feels like it's being neutralized.
---
the next morning, he's waken up by the sound of kettle-whistling and a phone ringing off the hook â the terrible flavor on his tongue helps him to be more alert. taekwoon wants to retch, really â but the memory hits him: that he was in wonshik's new apartment, drunk out of his mind, kicked out alongside his sister by their disappointed parents. he swallows the retch for a while.
feeling the ache and cricks in his muscles as he stands up, he gestures to the kettle mutely in an attempt to reach for it.
the ringing stops, and then wonshik's voice in the far distance. "uh, hello, yeah i know this is not him â i'm â wonshik, taekwoon's pair. he's kind of knocked out right now."
taekwoon only belatedly realizes that the phone that was ringing off the hook had his ringtone.
"yeah, he found a place to crash, mine â oh, he told me a lot about you," a warm chuckle that kind of guts him. "he can't seem to say no to any of your requests. he's wonderful, though. um, no â i don't really have any complaints? he's fine for whoever he is. it wasn't what i expected, but hey, i'm â not complaining. and," wonshik's voice drops a little, fondness seeping through his words, "it's kind of nice, that heartstruck stereotype being broken by him. it's a relief that we're not a cliche."
the retch is miraculously starting to go.
"i should check on him," the voice cuts through. "yeah, i'll let him know you called when he's awake. it's no problem â of course, see you soon."
he is not expecting wonshik's wet hair to make an appearance out from the bend of the wall suddenly.
"ah," befitting, since he's at loss for words. "you're up?"
taekwoon nods, slowly.
wonshik shuffles on the balls his feet. his phone is still in his hands, "did you hear?"
"yeah," and he hopes wonshik can hear the relief dripping from his words. honest to god, sagging-shoulders relief, because taekwoon has never met somebody who was comfortable at the very idea of being pairs without the heads-to-heels in love or immediate attraction. he just never feels it â any attraction. love. but he does recognize that warmth in his chest.
that countdown on the inside of his elbows doesn't feel like a weight anymore.
"i know i never talked to you about it, and i'm sorry it's taken so long -- and that you had to overhear it instead," wonshikâs voice is quiet but he grins, bashfully and so widely, that in taekwoon's almost-sober head, he thinks that it must hurt. "but i'm content, you know. with everything. even though you're not like the textbooks everybody crams their throat with."
something stutters. in a good way. and wonshik's suddenly there, beside him, threading his fingers between his, like itâs the most normal thing in the world, and nothing feels wrong.
taekwoon doesn't quite believe in true love, but he does believe in wonshik.
