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“Damn, you know... Now that I think about it… this song could be written about me and Hyunjin.”
Minho looks at him, eyebrows raised incredulously. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“No. Listen.” Jeongin cranks up the stereo.
“You’re so fucking special,” croons an angsty Thom Yorke.
Jeongin pauses the music. “That’s Hyunjin.”
Play. “I wish I was special!”
Pause. “Me, obviously.”
Play. “But I’m a creep. I’m a weirdo.”
Pause. He looks at his friend, hands gesturing wildly to express his point.
“Well you’re definitely a fucking weirdo I’ll give you that.” Minho goes back to cooking dinner.
-
Soulmates are a funny thing.
Everyone has one. A perfect match fated from birth, written into their very being. It’s all very romantic.
Many people start hearing songs in their head as children. The rules are simple: every time your soulmate gets a song stuck in their head, it plays in yours in their singing voice.
People describe meeting their soulmate as a profound feeling of knowing. The consensus is that once you realize, via hearing them sing in person or whatever other route it may take, as soon as you realize; the first kiss seals the deal. Fireworks, explosions, yadda yadda.
Jeongin used to love the idea of it, of finding the one. Maybe at a coin karaoke like where Minho found Jisung, or singing in the dorm showers, like Changbin and Felix. Even something quieter, like how his parents met after his father dropped his Walkman with a George Michael cassette in it, his mother picking it up shocked to find the album she’d been hearing in her head in her hands.
He used to love the idea of it, but then he met Hwang Hyunjin.
Okay, met may be an exaggeration. He’s never really spoken to Hyunjin for more than a few seconds, but he feels like he knows him. He definitely feels like he’s in love with him.
And besides, Jeongin is starting to think his soulmate doesn’t exist.
Either that or they don’t listen to music, like, ever.
His soulmate did exist at some point, because he remembers hearing Banana Allergy Monkey sung by a pretty masculine voice for three weeks after the song came out. But since then it’s been pretty quiet in his head. Save for the songs he gets stuck in there for the both of them, of course.
Whoever his soulmate is, they must be stuffy and boring. Nothing like Hwang Hyunjin.
Hwang Hyunjin probably has an impeccable music taste to go along with his perfectly symmetrical face.
Jeongin knows Hyunjin’s face is perfectly symmetrical because he’s spent more time staring at it than listening to his professor in the English lit class they share.
The classroom is seminar style, rounding the speaking platform in the middle, and Hyunjin sits dead across from him, one row down. It’s the ideal position really, because while Hyunjin looks down at the professor, perfectly rounded chin resting in one of his perfectly delicate hands, Jeongin can look down at him and work out the curvature of his nose and the mathematical calculations behind the slant of his cheekbones.
I’m a creep. I’m a weirdo.
One time he asked Minho if he shares the same proclivities for Hyunjin’s beauty, but the man just shrugged and said, “I don’t know. He’s pretty, but Jisung is better.”
That’s how it always is, though, isn’t it? Once someone finds their soulmate they describe that person as being the most attractive in the world to them. No one else can even touch the level of perfect of their fated match.
Jeongin highly fucking doubts that his boring, non-music loving soulmate will hold a candle to Hwang Hyunjin.
He knows a few things on the most basic level:
Things he knows about his soulmate: boring, music-hater, likes Banana Allergy Monkey.
Things he knows about Hyunjin: beautiful, perfect, so fucking special.
-
Things Jeongin knows about himself: once his brain latches onto a song he has no choice but to listen to it all the time.
“Jeongin, if you play that song one more time without putting some fucking headphones in I’m going to gut you and turn you into soup,” Minho threatens.
“Aw, he’s too lean to be put in soup. It would be all chewy.” Changbin frowns, dropping onto the couch next to Felix, one strong arm automatically wrapping protectively around the boy’s shoulders.
“C’mon guys, it’s cute! Let him listen to his emo little love song one more time,” Jisung says, pressing a kiss to his murderous and evil boyfriend’s cheek.
Jeongin grimaces. He loves his friends but being around two soulmate pairs 90% of the time can really get a guy down.
“Listen, I know you guys think I’m crazy, but music means something, right? And I feel something with this song, like, something bigger!” he desperately explains to four blank faces.
“What are you talking about?” Felix asks.
Jeongin groans, digging his heels into the ratty carpet and using the leverage to sink further into the cushions of the armchair beneath him. “Like, things in the song keep happening between me and Hyunjin.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Minho moans.
Jisung whacks him on the chest playfully. “I’d like to hear about it, Innie!” he urges.
Jeongin immediately regains energy to sit upright, clapping his hands together. “Buckle up, bastards. You’re about to believe that Radiohead is sending me subliminal messages about love.”
When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
Last week, Hyunjin dropped his pen on the way out of class. Jeongin picked it up, of course he did.
“Hyunjin!”
The man spins around, confusion evident.
“Uh, you dropped this,” Jeongin mutters, cheeks heating embarrassingly fast.
Their fingers brush when he hands off the pen, and Jeongin swears he feels a jolt of electricity.
He can also feel Hyunjin’s eyes on him. On his face, to be exact. But he hasn’t had the courage to make contact. “Do I know you?”
“Um.” He chances a glance up, makes earth shattering eye contact with Hyunjin for one second before it becomes too much, looking away again. “I was here before. I mean. Obviously I was here before, I’m also in this class but… um. I'm here every class. I don’t skip class. I'm Yang Jeongin.”
Hyunjin laughs then, and his eyes turn into crescent moons. It’s heavenly.
“I’ll see you around, Yang Jeongin.”
And then he winks, openly and boldly, right at Jeongin before stalking away.
“I fail to see how you quoting the song lyrics to him counts as a sign,” Changbin says skeptically.
”It’s also not like you have an easy time making eye contact with people normally…” Minho adds.
Jeongin grits his teeth. “I’m telling you, there’s more. This was like— The warm up.”
Felix smiles encouragingly. Jisung is leaning forward, hanging off every word.
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
Last weekend was Halloween, so obviously Felix dragged them out.
They’re at some frat house, dark and noisy and booming with music when Jeongin shouts that he’s going to the bathroom.
“Want me to come with?” Felix asks.
He waves him off. He’s not that drunk, just a little tipsy.
He’s dressed as the Pablo Honey baby, because, what else would he be? Face wrapped in a yellow flower headband. He felt a little bit stupid until Felix started gushing and cooing over how cute he is. That always gives him a major bump of confidence.
The bathroom door is shut when he finds it. He bangs a fist on the door, the buzz he does have lowering his inhibitions enough to be forward.
“Occupied!” a twinkling voice calls.
“Hurry up! I have to piss!” he shouts back, resigning himself to leaning against the wall opposite the door to wait.
It takes one minute and forty three seconds for the door to open. He’s counting. But when it does, it reveals an angel.
Quite literally.
Hwang Hyunjin is dressed as an angel, gauzy bandage top wrapped across his chest in a way that makes Jeongin’s mouth water. He has cute feathered wings attached to his back, and shimmering silver glitter painted up both his cheekbones.
“Yang Jeongin!” Hyunjin says, sounding surprised to see him too.
His mouth is having difficulties forming words, but at least he’s looking Hyunjin in the eye this time (mostly thanks to the alcohol).
Then the smell hits him. Sharp and flowery and harsh on his nose. Maybe some concoction of violet and jasmine. His eyes immediately water up. He’s always been sensitive to perfumes.
Hyunjin studies him curiously. “What are you?”
Jeongin coughs, half because of the perfume and half to get his throat working again. “Pablo Honey,” he chokes. “Excuse me.”
He pushes into the bathroom, closing the door on Hyunjin’s cloud of perfume.
He can taste it in his fucking mouth. He leans over the sink, spitting out the bitter flowery aroma, tears dripping out of his eyes as he does.
“Okay I’ll admit, the angel costume is a little more convincing,” Minho concedes. “But the crying? What’s his obnoxious perfume have to do with his skin making you cry?”
Jisung smacks him hard in the thigh, eliciting a betrayed gasp from the older. “Obviously you put perfume on your skin, dummy.”
“Yes!” Jeongin agrees, lighting up at Jisung’s sincerity to his woes. “And his perfume isn’t obnoxious I’m sure it’s perfectly tasteful. I’ve just got a sensitive nose!”
Felix nods gravely. “And we love you for it, baby.”
“Thank you!”
Changbin laughs his annoyingly loud laugh.
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
The Monday after the party, he’s sitting on the quad, Creep blasting into his ears when he folds up his legs and sees it.
A feather, stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
Jeongin pinches his brow, pulling the thing off and holding it up to the light to study. It’s white and soft, definitely not a real feather, one of those fake ones you find on costumes.
He hasn’t even worn these shoes since the party.
Could it be?
It’s a beautiful sunny autumn day. One of those days that makes him appreciate the beauty of the world.
Just then, the breeze picks up and snatches the feather from between his fingers, carrying it away.
Jeongin sighs, watching it float through the wind. It lands on the grass, inches away from a picnic blanket.
“You float like a feather, in a beautiful world,” Thom Yorke sings into his ears.
His eyes drift up, over the people on the blanket. Over Hwang Hyunjin and his friends.
His heart stops.
It’s too perfect.
Hyunjin throws his head back in laughter, his golden hair picking up extra tones in the sun, fluttering in the wind.
Jeongin doesn’t have to turn down his music to know what his laugh sounds like. It’s beautiful, just like him.
The feather tumbles, rolls over the blanket and hits Hyunjin’s hand. He jerks a little, surprised at the touch, but picks it up and holds it to the light just as Jeongin had done.
When he lowers it again, slowly releasing his fingers and letting it leave with the breeze, his eyes find Jeongin across the quad. Naturally. Like it’s nothing.
Hyunjin’s lips quirk up into a smile when he sees Jeongin already looking. “Hi, Yang Jeongin,” he mouths, raising his hand in the tiniest wave.
Jeongin blinks, cheeks licking with flames.
He manages a stiff, awkward wave before he flees the scene.
He can tell Felix is on board now too, both he and Jisung leaning in all big sparkly eyes and stupid smiles.
Of course Changbin has to go and ruin the mood. “What do you think your soulmate thinks about you listening to Creep all the time?”
Felix smacks him on the back of the head, eyes warning.
“I’m not talking about my stupid soulmate, I’m talking about Hwang Hyunjin, the love of my life!”
I wish I was special
You're so fuckin' special
“We’ve been over this one,” Minho waves him off passively.
Jisung scooches over so there’s a full cushion between them on the couch. A physical representation of their differing views on Jeongin’s love story.
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
“That’s for sure,” Changbin monotones.
Felix smacks him again.
I don't care if it hurts
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
“Okay I don’t really have anything for that one, but I just think those lines are really beautiful…” Jeongin mutters.
When Changbin laughs Felix gets up from beside him and climbs into Jisung’s lap instead.
I want you to notice
When I'm not around
He had to miss class on Tuesday that week because he had doctors appointments.
When he returns on Wednesday he’s surprised to find Hyunjin sitting in the seat next to Jeongin’s instead of across the room.
“Um. Hi?” Jeongin winces at how shaky his voice sounds, pulling out his chair and sitting down.
“Yang Jeongin! Where were you yesterday?” Hyunjin asks cheerfully, cheeks bunched up into a smile. “I thought Yang Jeongin didn’t miss class?”
“Oh… I, uh. Had a doctors appointment?” He accidentally makes his statement sound like a question.
Hyunjin giggles, pokes him in the side with his pen. “I missed you.”
His world implodes.
Jisung gasps, sharp and loud. “Ohmygod, he’s totally in love with you too!”
Felix nods furiously, arms tightening around Jisung’s neck, pressing their cheeks together until they smoosh. Conjoined sunshine twins.
Minho rolls his eyes.
She's running out the door (run)
She's running out
She run, run, run, run
Run
He doesn’t see Hyunjin on Thursday, not really. But he does hear him talking to his friend.
“I don’t know, Seungminnie. I don’t want to get my hopes up…” Hyunjin sighs.
“You don’t have to get any hopes up, what’s the worst case scenario. You get a boyfriend?” the friend, Seungmin, replies.
“The worst case scenario is that he isn’t my soulmate and then all I can think about the entire time I’m with him is how my soulmate is out there somewhere waiting for me!” Hyunjin whines.
Bile rises in Jeongin’s throat.
Things he knows about Hwang Hyunjin: beautiful, perfect, so fucking special, interested in someone that isn’t Jeongin, waiting specifically for his soulmate.
Some people are like that. Hopeless romantics that refuse to explore other options before they meet their soulmate. He used to be like that.
He runs out the door to the school building.
Felix and Jisung’s faces fall in tandem.
“Is this a sad love story?” Felix cries.
Jeongin frowns. “I guess maybe it is.”
“Ah, bud. Don’t be too sad. Fate knows what she’s doing, yeah?” Changbin tries to ease the veil of sorrow in the room, but his boyfriend is already blinking back tears. Felix is a highly sensitive person. It’s one of his charms.
“Innie, don’t you think it might be time to try to get over your fixation on Hwang? Maybe your soulmate is around here somewhere,” Minho suggests.
He knows they’re not trying to be harsh with him, but it drags across his chest like a bed of nails anyway. He stands. “I think I’m gonna go home. I have a shift tomorrow morning… so.”
“Aw, Innie,” Felix’s face cracks open in horrified sadness.
Jisung stands too, attacking him into a hug. “You’ll still come to our anniversary celebration tomorrow, right?”
Jeongin melts into the hug, sighing a little bit and squeezing his eyes shut tight as he presses into Jisung’s hair. “Yeah. ‘Course. Wouldn’t miss it, Sung.”
He’s waved goodbye by four smiles, three pitying and one full of tears.
-
Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
His shift at the coffee shop is going particularly well. The sun was up when he got in, warming his skin, the birds were chirping, he’s even on shift with his favorite coworker, Jiwoo.
Despite all of that, he still feels sad.
Nothing like two pessimistic friends and two overly optimistic ones to beat the thought into your head that the man you love will never love you back.
Sigh!
Maybe he is a little dramatic, but he’s a tumblr-emo teenager who evolved into an over-caffeinated-emo college student.
“Are you okay, Jeonginnie?” Jiwoo asks, face twisted up in concern.
Jeongin sighs, hand resting on his chin as he stares mournfully out the window. “Yeah. Just lovesick.”
The girl pats him comfortingly on the back, nodding solemnly in understanding.
He pulls out his phone, types: "can lovesickness be cured?" into his browser.
Lovesickness can be cured by the object of your affections.
What a load of garbage.
“Yang Jeongin!” The bell over the door clangs at the same time as he’s blown off his seat in shock.
Hyunjin never comes in here. Jeongin would know.
And yet? Here he is.
“I saw you through the window,” Hyunjin grins ear to ear. It’s the prettiest thing Jeongin has seen all day. “I thought maybe I should start getting my coffee from here so I can see you every day.”
Jeongin’s heart skips a beat. “Well, I’m only here on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday,” he mutters. Nice diversion, Jeongin, ten out of ten job.
Hyunjin crinkles up his nose. Cute. “Oh well, I guess three days a week can suffice. Could I get a medium iced americano?”
He doesn’t mean to quote the stupid fucking song. Really! It just slips out.
“Whatever you want.”
Hyunjin’s smile falters for half a second before coming back two times as bright. He was probably thrown off by the awkward formality of Jeongin’s words. No need to correct himself now, though. Not when Hyunjin has a soulmate that’s probably as beautiful and perfect and fucking special as he is. Just waiting out there to become the luckiest man in the world.
He still spends extra time making the drink perfect, and he can’t deny the way his chest flutters when Hyunjin says, “Thanks, cutie.” And sends him a wink before he leaves.
-
Every year Minho and Jisung have this stupid get together at the karaoke bar where they met. They gather up all their friends and pay for a night and everyone sings and drinks and hugs.
It’s fun, but this year it feels horrid.
Jeongin is lovesick!
He’s just finished singing Careless Whisper, his friends slumped around in the booth slack-jawed and heavy eyed.
“That was horrible, Jeongin,” Minho intones.
“What he means to say,” Jisung bites. “Is that the mood is a little bit low.”
Jeongin frowns, shoulders slumping. “Okay, for my encore I’ll do something more exciting.”
He starts clicking around on remote, trying to frantically queue up his song before Minho can stop him.
It doesn’t work. The remote is being wrestled out of his hands in record time.
“Hell no! Hell no, Yang Jeongin. You are not singing Creep at my anniversary party!” Minho shouts.
Jeongin folds his arms across his chest, tipping his nose up like a petulant child. “Fine! I’ll go pay for my own booth and sing it by myself!”
Minho swings his hand out, palm up, gesturing to the door. “Please do. If I hear that song one more time my head is going to explode.”
“Drama queen,” Jeongin huffs, rolling his eyes back into his head. Their fight feels eerily reminiscent of one a teenager would have with their parent.
“I’ll come check on you in a little bit, okay, Innie?” Felix calls after him sweetly.
He just grunts in response.
He pays for his own damn booth and sings Creep, as loud and as hard as he fucking can.
It feels magnificent.
So he sings it again.
And again.
It’s on the fourth play that he’s so rudely interrupted.
“Yang Jeongin!”
Jeongin freezes mid song. A shame, really, that he’s been made to stop right before his favorite part.
A very angry looking, very accusingly-pointing Hwang Hyunjin stands in the doorway.
“You’re the son of a bitch who’s had this goddamned Radiohead song stuck in my head for weeks?!”
“I- What?” Jeongin squints. Trying to parse through the Hyunjin-induced haze in his mind. Is he suggesting…
But then Hyunjin stomps forward, takes Jeongin’s face in perfectly delicate hands and kisses him square on the mouth.
And, ah, there it is. Fireworks, explosions, the whole nine yards.
His body reacts for him, thank god, because his brain is awash with a cacophony of light and sound and oh, Hyunjin.
Their mouths slot together like they were made for eachother (they were), and the second their tongues meet (a natural progression of being attached at the mouth to the person he’s chemically bound to) the music swells around them, like in the fucking movies.
Run, run, run, ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnn
He feels it in his bones.
He’s free! Yang Jeongin has drunk the antidote for lovesickness! Hark!
And then he realizes he’s been doing the thing this whole time. The ‘my soulmate is prettier than any other person in the entire world’ thing. Without even realizing it.
Minho is never going to let him hear the end of this, especially now that he’s hijacked their anniversary and meeting spot and taken them as his own.
When they pull away, in desperate need of air, Hyunjin stays close. So close that Jeongin can see that his face isn’t perfectly symmetrical, because he has a tiny beauty mark under his left eye.
“You’re so fucking special,” he blurts, embarrassingly.
Hyunjin laughs, light and breathy. “This song fucking sucks.”
And then he kisses Jeongin again, before he even has time to defend the musical genius of Radiohead.
But there’s plenty of time for that, isn’t there?
-
“Why do you never have anything stuck in your head?”
“Because I always have more than enough to listen to with you singing to me.” A kiss. “Why do you always have something stuck in yours?”
“So that you always have something to listen to.”