Breaks
Author: kpopfanfictrash
Pairing: You / Jackson
Rating: R (mentions of smut)
Word Count: 3,176
Summary: In the world of Lore, there are no soulmates. Not anymore. But what happens when you start to dream of yours? - Soulmates!AU
The city of Lore is cursed; or, it used to be. Back when the skies were cluttered with smog, the streets filled and stilted with anger - there was a plague called amor. People lost their minds for it, gave away their very souls for no reason at all. During this time there was a thing called soulmates, a horrible disease where each one person was destined for another.
A pretty fucked up concept, when you stop to think about it. They said once you found your soulmate, that was it. You no longer belonged to yourself, but to them. All our thoughts, love, life were theirs; a horrifying concept to think about. You don’t tend to think about it often though, because it’s not a plauge which affects you anymore.
Not in Lore, at least because everyone in Lore undergoes a surgery around the age of six designed to remove this dangerous and unstable part of the brain. There’s still the ability to love, of course. Still the ability to care, though you’ve heard it said before the surgery makes you love less. This is something you've never believed because each breakup you’ve experienced has been painful, terribly so and it’s hard to imagine there’s something worse than that. It’s only the old ones who say this though, since they’re the only ones who remember a time before Lore.
Even they recall only vaguely. You’ve heard stories in flashes and memories, not none of which you’re able to relate to. When the surgery became law, some seventy-five years back, everyone living underwent the procedure. That was a tough time, or so the history books say. It was full of political unrest, because those who’d found their soulmates didn’t want to let go. Which only goes to show how dangerous the disease was. Even broken, even bound and enslaved, these people were chained by the disease.
These days, it’s not a concernt. These days, everyone is at peace because these days, there’s no reason to lose your mind. Love is peaceful, love is calm. Love is the sure sense of knowledge that you have family, that you have friends and that you chose them. There’s no such thing as destiny, no such thing as fate to mess with your mind.
Life is simpler, cleaner; it’s easier to see things, to understand and since the surgery there have been fewer instances of depression, anxiety, suicide, anything which could be considered an emotional disease. Truly, Lore is the city of the future, one unlike any other.
Until the day that you dream.
That’s one, unintended side effect of the surgery - human beings no longer dream because of it. Truthfully, you don’t remember a time when you could, so it’s not like you’re missing out. It’s a strange concept to think about and one that you’ve never really understood. Dreams were once explained in school as a vivid hallucination, an event which seems real but is not. The subject has always seemed fascinating to you, despite the lurid undertones of your mind not telling the truth.
Or perhaps this is why you find it interesting. You remember Into to Procedure, a class every citizen of Lore takes in order to graducate University. You had a teacher who droned on in a monoton. speaking of interesting subjects in a way to make you fall asleep. You weren’t asleep though, you were wide-awake and hanging on every word of the soulmate bond, the surgery and the aftereffects. Side effects of the surgery are nearly unnoticeable, practically invisible apart from the dreaming.
This, of course, was when Jackson Wang raised a hand. A talented, good-looking student not born in Lore.
“Nearly,” he stated, leaning forward. “That’s not an absolute word. What are the side effects which are visible?”
The professor seemed displeased by his question. “They aren’t significant,” he coughed. “Decreased motivation and sex drive, decreased population increase, along with a few others.”
Mouthing the words in repitiion, Jackson’s frown deepened. “A decreased increase. There’s some wordsmithing for you. Plus, decreased sex drive? Why would that even happen?”
Slight titters echoed through the room as the professor turned pink. “If I had to hazard a guess,” he responded. “I’d say the loss of soulmates has made our race a more individualistic species. We’re not as interested in furthering the race so much as furthering ourselves. Does that make sense?”
Jackson settled back in his chair. “It makes sense,” he said slowly. “I don’t know if I like the answer, though.”
At this, you turned around. Jackson’s words shocked you, since no one ever expressed those kinds of notions out loud. He wasn’t looking at you though, only at the professor and this was the first time you reconsidered the status quo. Most people accepted the surgery as fact - it was like a vaccine, or something similar and not to be contested.
Perhaps this had something to do with your decreased motivation.
Jackson cocked his head. “It seems like a lot of side effects for few benefits.”
“Few benefits?” The professor raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Wang, have you ever been in love?”
Jackson paused, then nodded. Yes.
“No,” the professor sighed. “If you had, you wouldn’t have paused. Love is a searing, painful thing. It leaves its mark and once you’re touched, you’re branded forever. Does it seem fair, then, to be cursed without your consent? Without your knowledge, your explicit choosing?”
Jackson’s eyes were wide. “No,” he exhaled, faintly excited by the prospect.
“No,” the professor agreed, taking off his glasses to lay flat on the counter. “I thought not. Now, back to dreaming.”
This exchange faded quickly into your mind and were it not for the events following, you would have forgotten al about it. It was a strange moment, but unrelated to you. For the next year or more, you didn’t think twice about Jackson Wang.
Until the day that you dreamed.
At first, you didn’t know what was happening. The oddest part about dreaming was how completely normal it seemed. You were asleep, but you were not, there was a part of you acutely aware of this. As you walked through a shadowed hallway, dusted your fingers over a dark wooden counter, it was hard not to convince yourself it was real.
It was not, of course, it only existed in your mind. Rather absently, you wondered about your body. Were you still a part of your body or somewhere else entirely and if so, could you go back to it when you woke. Your thoughts were still yours though, you were still able to grasp the conversation and so you continued walking forward. You walked and you walked until reaching a door and grasping its handle, you pushed it open and froze.
You weren’t alone. Another shadow turned, you made eye contact for only a second before recognizing Jackson.
Gasping, you woke. You were still in your own bed and there was sweat on your brow, in your hair, chest tight with the impossibility of breathing. Your eyelids fluttered, caught between one world and the next until very suddenly, you pushed your sheets aside. Barging into your bathroom, you dropped to your knees as your stomach roiled and dry-heaved into the side of the bowl.
Very slowly, you lowered yourself back to a sitting position as mind buzzing, you fought to keep calm. It was a dream. A dream, or a hallucination but you weren’t sure which would be worse. If it was a dream, it made no sense. Humans can’t dream, not since the surgery.
And if you did dream, you dreamt of Jackson. There was that moment, right before waking, when you felt like you were falling. His eyes locked on yours, widening only slightly before disappearing from view. You were pulled back before you could move, before you could so much as acknowledge you saw him.
You wonder if Jackson dreams, too. If he does, maybe he saw you and that room as well and perhaps you’re alone. For the first time in your life, the thought of being alone no longer seems so appealing.
These questions, this uncertainty buzzes clear through your mind until the following day when you see Jackson on campus. He’s walking across the quad, talking to a friend of his while getting steadily closer. His brown hair is messy beneath his ball cap, shirt slightly untucked from the top of his jeans and as the distance closes between you, the beating of your heart only gets louder.
Clutching your books tightly, you’re unsure when this crazed sort of nervousness even began. This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. Nervousness is familiar, you’ve felt it on test days, during interviews, before you achieve or lose a game. Never for a person though, and never for a stranger. Never, because you’ve caught sight of his eyes and are thrown by their deep shade of brown.
No, these feelings are new and they scare you. Especially when your gazes finally meet, and his slides right past. Jackson walks past you, as though nothing has happened and he doesn’t even know you. Which he doesn’t. It - hurts? This seems an odd word to use, when describing a strabger, but there it is. Seeing Jackson... hurts.
The dreams continue. Night after night, they plague both waking and sleeping hours. Always the same ending, with differing variations of a similar theme.
Until the night that things change. Operning your eyes, you find yourself in the same hallway. The lights are dim, the air cool and as you make your way forward, the door opens without you touching it. Freezing in place, you’re unsure what to do when Jackson enters the hall.
He seems lost, judging by his expression. He seems lost but when he spots you, Jackson stops in his tracks. He stares back, speechless, before looking around.
“What is this place?”
It’s the first words spoken, in the shadowed place. The shadowed place, is what you’ve taken to calling this dream-land of yours.
“I don’t know,” you admit, taking a step closer. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for myself.”
Jackson seems surprised, hearing you speak. “You - you can hear me?”
Slowly, you nod. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Jackson exhales, then stops. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse. “I’ve been trying for so long, to get out of my room. I kept seeing the door open but no one would entier. Finally, last night it occurred to me I could go through the door.”
“Ah,” you blink back at him, your voice quiet. “Last night was a night I didn’t dream.”
Jackson is silent for a long moment. “Is that what this is?” he breathes, looking around. “Dreaming?”
“I think so,” you nod. “What else could it be?”
“But we’re not supposed to dream,” Jackson counters, eyes wide. “Not if the surgery worked.”
Ah, there it is. The fear that’s been eating you alive, ever since you woke up from your dream and realized the truth. Dreaming is not posisble, this world is not possible. Not if the surgery worked.
You’ve heard of such things, before. Similar stories are mentioned in Intro to Procedure. Before the surgery, twenty-one was the age at which you first saw your soulmate and rather than see them in person, you dreamt of them. You would see their face in your dreams until... something. Something would happen, some unknown bonding whose secrets have been lost to time.
For some people, the surgery just doesn’t take. They dream anyways, find their soulmates anyways and you call these people Breaks, because they are. Breaks in the system, breaks in the process, breaks in the very fabric of society.
Jackson steps closer, his gaze searching. “Do you think… this is real?”
His question isn’t what you expected. “I don’t know,” you answer him honestly. “What’s the difference, really, between being asleep or awake?”
You never noticed before, the shape of Jackson’s face. He’s so open, honest; everything you’re too scared to ask out of life - his face is the embodiment of passion, of courage. Even before the dreams, you thought this. When he spoke up in class that one day, you felt this strange kind of spark and when he takes a step closer, your entire body thrums.
“Have you ever wondered,” Jackson muses, gaze dropping to your lips. “What it would feel like, having a soulmate?”
You don’t answer him, too confused by his nearness. “I’ve never given it much thought,” you confess and Jackson’s face falls somewhat. “I am now,” you add.
Jackson’s eyes lift, full of joy. “I want to know if this is real,” he whispers. “I want to know if you’re real, Y/N.”
Your heart catches in your chest, a confused murmur of emotions. “You know my name?”
“Of course,” Jackson confesses, lifting a hand. “How could I not?”
You can only stare, as his hand moves closer and when his fingers brush yours, it can only be described as a shock. Bright, burning pain sears through you, lancing into your chest. In bed, you bolt upright, clutching at your sheets and trying hard not to yell. Your shirt glows, fervent letters spilling out and when your trembling hands lower the fabric, you see. There, in golden letters, is Jackson’s name.
It’s written in semi-neat cursive, right over the space where your heart is. An organ thumping wildly as you stare, unable to look down until your phone buzzes on the nightstand. Without looking at the name, you swipe right to answer because it’s obvious, somehow, you already know who it is.
555-8924: is it there for you too [3:21 AM]
Your fingers tremble as you type.
Y/N: Yes [3:21 AM]
Jackson: breaks [3:22 AM]
Jackson: we’re... [3:22 AM]
Y/N: Don’t say it, jackson [3:23 AM]
SInking back in your bed, the rising panic consumes you. Breaks. That’s what you are, what Jackson is. Soulmates aren’t supposed to be real, not anymore. Worse than that, you’re not supposed to want one. You’re supposed to be fine on your own, happy on your own. Your entire life, no one has ever felt like you do now. You’ve never seen someone this crazy, this stressed, this worried, this happy - all at once, all at the same time.
It feels... shakily, you exhale. It feels like bliss. Even despite the fear and the pain, you’re happy. You want to text Jackson. Want to see him, talk to him, feel more of this spiraling wanting that just the thought of him seems to inspire. It’s terrifying to you, not normal to feel this, to feel so manic. This is what the surgery is supposed to correct; a fix which apparently, does not work on you.
You’re a Break.
The dreams continue but now, Jackson is in all of them. The room sometimes changes, depending on your mood and sometimes you’re in a cafe, which are the nights that you talk. You talk about your dreams, not this dream, but your living ones. You talk about your wants, the hopes you’ve never voice aloud. Wishes you’ve never even spoken, in case they might not come true.
Jackson responds to you in kind. He explains he’s suspected he was a Break for some time now because he’s always wanted more, always wanted a human connection nonexistent in Lore. When he looks around he sees zombies. People going through the motions, only existing at the surface level. They never find the true depths of themselves, since they never find love, or understand who they are.
It’s funny you call this place the shadow world, because Jackson feels like this about the real world. The world you once thought of as pristine, now you can’t stop seeing the holes. The order you once thought was lovely, the cleanliness you once valued above all - now you can’t see the point, because they’re nothing behind it. Peace and calm, you realize, mean nothing without something to fight for.
The times you feel most peaceful are in Jackson’s arms. The time spent nuzzled between the sheets, his lips tracing over your skin while you sigh into his body. This is your new peace, new joy and the contentment you didn’t know you were lacking.
When your teachers described love, they called it overbearing. They said you would forget yourself and it’s true, and sometimes you do. This doesn’t seem such a bad thing though, it only serves to remind you that you’re a part of something more. It lets you know the world is bigger, it’s huge and you’re one part of the whole, not the puzzle itself. Jackson helps you see this, he completes you in a way you didn’t know you wanted and gradually, you stop seeing him in your dreams.
You start seeing him in life; real life, not the shadow one. Jackson sleeps in your real bed, real arms and slowly, you lose yourself in his real touch and real emotion. Jackson, your soulmate, as the world breaks slowly around you. You are broken, yes. And now you’re remade.
The day a knock comes on your door, you’re wholly unprepared.
Throwing open the entrance, you expect to see Jackson and are surprised when faced with a man in a suit.
“Miss Y/N,” he reads his phone, frowning down the length of his nose. “I need you to come with me.”
Words seem to fade when your hand gently drops from the door. “Why,” you respond but the man doesn’t respond, gaze oddly sympathetic. Casually, you take a tiny step backwards. “What’s all this about?”
The man tilts his head to one side. “I think you know,” he states calmly, placing one hand over the space where his heart is.
Veins freezing, your mind whirs around the implicatoin. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man sighs, stepping slowly inside to block your doorway. “Don’t make this more difficult than it must be.”
You don’t scream. No, there will be little sympathy for you in this scenario and so you just move. Stumbling backwards, your feet pound through your hallway whlie your thoughts quickly turn to escape. You can do this, you can get to your car, to Jackson. Once you have Jackson, it will all be okay.
The man’s arms wrap around your torso, yanking you backwards. You didn’t even hear him coming, your head hitting solid chest as you grunt, all breath exhaled in a swoop. “Easy,” he sighs, slightly exasperated. “This will all be easier if you don’t fight.”
Biting down on his hand, you force him to let go and you’re off. Running, turning - so fast, you don’t see the second man step free from your doorway. You run straight into his frame and after that, there’s darkness.
When you wake, it’s in a police car, no sirens blaring while speeding fast down a highway. The wind whips at your hair and for just a moment, you can’t see. Everything is black and you panic, until feeling the touch of his hand. Jackson is with you, you know from the sureness of heart and release in your blood.
Glancing sideways, you see he’s handcuffed as well. Metal bites into the skin at his wrists, the same pincing pain you feel on your own. Head falling to his shoulder, your shirt flutters in the wind to reveal the top of his name. Seeing this, Jackson smiles.
Gaze softening, he opens his mouth and the person who’s driving clears his throat now to speak. “You're awake.”
Your head whips forward, nearly colliding with Jackson’s to meet the gaze of a stranger. Well, not entirely a stranger, it’s the suited man from earlier. Repressing your hiss, you struggle to push yourself upright. “Where are you taking us,” you croak, as though you haven’t spoken in hours.
“Out,” the man responds. “The two of you can no longer remain in Lore.”
Behind you, Jackson's hand tightens on yours. “Why now?” he asks, voice steadier than yours. “What does it matter, now that I've found her?”
The man sighs, gaze focused on the road. “Lore exists as a haven. It’s a space for those who no longer want the curse of soulmates, who only want peace. You cannot stay while you’re marked.”
Marked. Thinking of Jackson’s name, edged in gold on your heart, you feel this is an appropriate desc.
“But,” you interrupt, voice thick with emotion. “My life. My family? Friends?”
“I am sorry.” Surprisingly, he sounds like he is. “I don't make the rules. All Breaks go to Reviva. All Dulls come to Lore.”
Dulls. A word you haven't heard before, but you assume means the opposite of a Break. Someone from Reviva, who does not have a soulmate. The word is sad to you, so much that you lean your head wearily on Jackson's shoulder. His touch is comforting, reassuring and when you look up, he’s staring back.
“We'll find our way,” Jackson murmurs, low enough that the man doesn't hear. “I promise you that.”
“I know,” you smile faintly, closing your eyes. “We will. Together.”
His hand tightens in yours.
Author’s Note: #maketiffweakweek @baebae-goodnight - happy day two! <3
