00:00:00 | Soul Caught
sooncerely:
The soft glowing numbers on Kyungsoo’s wrist had become subject to neglect ever since he was young. The diminishing digits that were supposed to indicate when he would face his soulmate meant little to nothing to him. He’d thought of it, of course. Everyone did. But his thoughts had always been a bit morbid. Maybe he’d walk past a cemetery and the timer would hit zero when he looked at a tombstone. Little dark occupying thoughts as such always filled his mind whenever he thought of the clock on his arm.
Otherwise, he didn’t bother glancing at it twice.
To him, it was another ordinary day. Sure, when he was changing that day, he’d noticed that the clock was nearing in hours to its countdown, but he didn’t let it rock his composure. Today the day he was going to spend with his favourite director, Guillermo del Toro. Or, his book, at least. A soft snort left the boy when he thought of the odd possibility of the timer hitting its final second while he were looking at the book. How pathetic would that be.
Blackstone had always been his favourite bookstore. It was pretty isolated and always smelled nice. The wooden interior was warm and welcoming. People rarely bothered checking it out, but that’s exactly why Kyungsoo elected it as his personal favourite. He didn’t need to delve too far into the store, though. Or at least, that’s what he thought. When he inquired for his book he’d ordered, apparently it had gotten sorted between the stacks as a mistake. Kyungsoo smiled it off and told the young lady behind the counter that it was okay. He’d find it himself.
Tick..
Tick..
He lead himself up the stairs he’d walked many times before, and then another one. The most upper floor was always the messiest, and darkest, with the lack of proper windows. Formerly, it had been an empty attic of an old home. Though, when he walked towards the section he needed to be (cinema), he nearly tripped over his own feet. He wasn’t alone. His eyes fell on a male– a beautiful one at that– and his heart started palpitating, a warmth spreading beneath his skin and crawling through his veins. The rush corrupted his brain with a pleasant buzz, but it didn’t take him a second before he yanked up the sleeve of his sweater to see his timer glow at exactly the anticipated numbers.
00:00:00
The male he’d laid his eyes on was also looking at his arm now, but they both looked at each other, knowing what the situation meant. They were each other’s soulmates. Destined to be.
Time. Thorn’s always been indifferent about the time indicated on his wrist; to him the concept of finding a soulmate was as ridiculous as flying pigs--hell, alien life was far more plausible than finding this ‘soulmate’ everyone around him seemed to be anticipating (for themselves). He didn’t want one as badly as the next person, but he would nevertheless welcome whatever came his way. Assuming it ever did. His time was far more valuable than the ‘ETA’ of some complete stranger presented to him.
So he carried on with his days in complete bliss. He kept to himself; in the eyes of his peers and surrounding superiors, he remained a seemingly bitter fool for refusing to socialize, like he’d ruled out the entire possibility of ever finding someone. But again, it must be duly noted that that was not the case at all. He simply didn’t care as much. He was not going to subject to himself for a life of waiting. Neither did he believe he was going to go wild the minute the clock turned into the ‘magical’ row of zeros. He preferred to concern himself with the wonder of literature.
Books were his freedom. Or at least it’s what he felt set him free from the strangeness of his reality. He felt as though the fantasy of what was written between pages of books would make a better world than where he stood. And just like any other day, he was searching for another place to call his ‘home’ in a bookshop, one he’d specifically chosen which not many frequented. Lost in the section of cinema, he’d found books by an author whom he’d just recently developed an affinity for.
He was gathering all which he could find by the same author when he’d heard footsteps, and then a clumsy stumble. The moment, to say the least, was overwhelming because, oh Thorn knew, he didn’t have to look at his wrist to know. He felt it the second they met eyes. Suddenly everything he’d ever told himself he wouldn’t do, like have his heart race or turn into a flustered mess or even feel like he’s secretly wanted this his entire life, it all melted away.
The steps he took were slow. Careful. He felt like any sudden movement would scare away the doe-eyed boy who was meant to be his. His lips parted, he was going to speak, but nothing came out much as he tried. So instead of try to fill the silence with the sound of his quiet voice, he took the tender cheeks in his hands, leaned in and kissed.