Seokjin and Junmyeon have been neighbors since they were four, best friends since they were seven, and soul mates since they were sixteen. To be fair, Junmyeon knew he and Seokjin had always been soul mates, but it was their shared awareness of that reality, discovered on Seokjin’s back porch at 6:12 in the morning, the two of them huddled together under tartan wool, feet dangling above dewy grass from their perch on the white-washed porch swing, that stood up in Junmyeon’s memory. Now, at twenty-six years old, Junmyeon lived his life in tandem with Seokjin, their souls interwoven and blended like watercolors, each soft and complementary to its partner.

     They’d kissed first when they were nine, two days before Junmyeon’s tenth birthday. Under almost-cartoonish clouds suspended in an invitingly blue sky, Seokjin had jumped off Junmyeon’s tire swing at its zenith, flying for a brief, blissful moment before plummeting to the rocky grass, rolling a bit on impact. Junmyeon still remembers the eerie seconds of silence as he’d crouched beside his friend, Seokjin’s fiery brown irises drowning in a pool of shiny white, his eyes blown wide in panic. He had shuddered, blinked, and gasped in a rattling breath, then another, before bursting into tears. Seokjin was always more likely to cry than Junmyeon, but never in their twenty-two years together had Junmyeon gotten used to the shredded feeling in his chest when Seokjin hung his head, his handsome features split by jagged tear tracks. Similarly, never in their twenty-two years together could Junmyeon find a better way to quiet Seokjin’s sobs than with a kiss, the first time a tentative, rushed press of lips to Seokjin’s hot, wet cheek, then, once he’d turned to Junmyeon in surprise, another, just as rushed, to his small lips, parted and still and willing.

     But now, watching his soul mate weep into his cupped, strained hands in the passenger seat, the engine long-quieted and the chill of late fall creeping into the silence, Junmyeon knew there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to stop Seokjin’s pain. How could he, when he was the one to cause it?