► ribbon - beast

The reason the building stood out from the other buildings was not due to its size – where it’s noticeable smaller with only three levels high. It was covered in glass windows like the office towers around it, and there’s a lonely tree next to a typical wooden park bench on its front yard in a pathetic attempt to make it look more environmental friendly.

They were all normal, until one noticed a small crowd in front of the building, carrying banners that they put up above their heads or in front of their chests, trying to gain people’s attention to their reason for protesting.

Wonwoo shifted his eyes away when one of them turned their body to his direction, forcing himself not to read the words written on the papers. He’s pretty sure it wouldn’t help with his nervous state.

The sun was bright somewhere on the sky, hidden from his view by the tall towers. The weather was neither hot nor cold in the beginning of autumn, and Wonwoo shoved his hands deeper to his jacket’s pockets, feeling sudden chill crawling on his skin. He felt sick everywhere; he’s lightheaded, he felt warm, his stomach twisted and churned. Wonwoo regretted rejecting his roommate’s chicken porridge this morning.

Jisoo had been his usual angel self, cooking him breakfast and he had made him chamomile tea, letting Wonwoo held his hand without a word and patted his knuckles. But Wonwoo was already feeling sick by then, he couldn’t eat and even the tea tasted like sand in his mouth.

He had refused Jisoo’s offer to accompany him , too.

This was something that he had to do alone – because it was his decision, and he was completely sure of it. He wouldn’t regret it later in his life, Wonwoo knew he wouldn’t.

He swallowed, balling up his fists inside his pocket, eyes trained ahead to the building with Hwayang Red Thread Hospital written on the front. He could feel a drop of sweat ran down his temple.

With one last intake of breath, Wonwoo gathered his guts and started to walk.  

***

He’s sitting on the waiting room, had done filling out the form for patients. He heard there would be interviews too and Wonwoo thought it was to be expected since cutting one’s red thread was not a simple procedure.

There were a couple patients there in the waiting room with him, and he briefly wondered the reason they’re here. Did they want to cut their red thread too? Or did they want to make a new one? Red thread hospital offered various services regarding the existence of the red thread of fate.

Wonwoo bit on his nails, his stomach did a flip every few seconds it made him wanted to puke. The aircon was blowing on the corner – he could tell it was cool and soothing but still he felt cold, yet at the same time, his back was drenched in sweat.

His eyes caught sight of something shimmering on his left hand and Wonwoo glanced at it, at the very faint red thread tied at his little finger, the end fell to the ground before it disappeared along the way. It’s barely there, but it’s there, and Wonwoo didn’t want it to be there any longer.

He didn’t need it anymore.

*

He first saw it when he’s six. He was stumbled on a rock mid-running, and when he stood up he thought his finger was bleeding. There’s something on his pinky finger, it’s blurry and sketchy but he could make out the shape and colour. It was a thin string; a red one.

Confused, Wonwoo had tried to grab it, but his fingers slipped through the air, almost like the red thread was just a part of his imagination. 

When he told his mother, his mother had smiled – if only Wonwoo was older, he would had realized that the smile was careful, guarded. Strained. She had said that it was the red thread of fate, you’ve seen it on TV, don’t you, Woonie?, and she said that the red string tie him with the one, his soulmate.

The concept was still confusing for six years old Wonwoo, but the thought that there’s someone out there who was connected to him through the thread was pretty cool, he had grinned to his mother. I’ll find them one day!, he had said, and we can play together!

Ten years old Wonwoo knew a little bit better, that finding his soulmate was not as easy as the weekend dramas his mother watched like to make. He knew that only the two persons connected could see their own thread, that the thread first appeared on different ages for different people, that there were people who kept seeing their thread as a blurry string for the rest of their lives. Some people saw it clear since the very first time, and some decided to follow the thread no matter where it takes just to meet their soulmate, but there were also people who ignored it, going through their lives with red on their finger. And there were people who were together despite not being soulmates.

Wonwoo was twelve when he finally asked his parents whether they’re soulmates or not.

Their parents had smiled at him, held each other’s hand, and told him even though they’re not, they loved each other so much that it didn’t matter. If only Wonwoo had a little bit older, he would had realized that his father had a distant look on his eyes when he looked away, and his mother’s smile dimmed just a little bit right after.

The only thing Wonwoo remembered was – you didn’t need to be with your soulmate to be happy.

And it’s true.

A lot of his friends didn’t have the thread yet even when they hit puberty and they dated a lot; and so did Wonwoo. He met girls, girls who told him they didn’t have a thread, girls who said they had a faint thread just like him, girls who blatantly stated they didn’t care about their soulmate.  

Wonwoo continued to date them, never caring about the occasional blur of red he saw on his peripheral vision at his pinky finger.

Until two years ago, when he met Sana.

Sana was the night’s breeze, caring and calming; she was the reason of his morning, she was the smile at the end of his day, and she just knew his every curves and edges – before he realized it, Wonwoo was completely in love. 

But Wonwoo’s thread stayed blurry and Sana always forced a smile at him whenever she glanced at their fingers, because her thread was there, too, invincible to Wonwoo’s eyes.

So Wonwoo decided to end it. He’s not going to wait for his soulmate any longer, and he didn’t want a live where he constantly looked down to his finger, on edge every time he caught a glimpse of red, dreading the day the thread became clear and it lead him to another person that was not Sana.

Cutting the thread was not impossible.

The bond could be broken by natural causes – arguments, distances, lack of affection, no one really knew – just because you’re destined to be together, it didn’t mean that you didn’t have to work for it. Fate had too much variables for you to rely on a thin red string. 

But since no one knew the sure way to broke the bond, scientists started to poke around, here and there, trying ways to manipulate the thread. Because there were people who wanted to get away from their soulmate, and there were people that tied up to criminals, they just couldn’t wait until the bond broke.

The procedure was found a couple years back, drawing reactions from all around the world and people called it as an act against God’s will. The controversies dragged on even until the procedure was legalized it many countries.

It was simpler and easier to cut off the thread while it’s still faint.

Wonwoo decided it’s best if he did it as soon as possible.

*

He’s shaking his legs and biting his nails, the woman across from him glanced up and gave him a sympathetic look but Wonwoo couldn’t even muster a weak smile as a return. He’s positively nauseous now, and he wasn’t sure whether it’s all just because he’s nervous or because he ate something bad yesterday.

Not a lot of people knew about this decision. Jisoo knew, his roommate and best friend since his first year in college. Jisoo was his senior and math tutor, patient and soft-spoken, and he laughed at Wonwoo’s lame jokes he immediately climbed up Wonwoo’s list of favourite people.

Jisoo, the most romantic person Wonwoo had ever met, the one who looks forward to his soulmate the most, didn’t have a thread yet even though he’s reaching late 20s. He kept optimistic, though, carefully meeting people and ended up befriending all of them.

The other two persons that knew about his decision were Mingyu, his neighbour, and Minghao, Mingyu’s soulmate.

Wonwoo didn’t tell his parents, and he also didn’t tell Sana. He was sure Sana was the one for him, and he planned to propose soon, he wanted to prove his sincerity by cutting his tie, didn’t mean that Sana had to do the same for him. It’s alright, Wonwoo wouldn’t mind.   

He rubbed his face with both hands, seeing stars behind his eyelids. It’s getting too much.

Wonwoo was about to grab a magazine on the coffee table in front of him when his eyes caught a glimpse of red from his left hand.

He did a double look without thinking.

There, in his small finger, was a bold red thread, vivid and distinct, glaring at him.

His breath hitched, his heart dropped.

All this time the string was faint, hardly seen even under the sunlight, but now the red was so obvious almost like it’s taunting Wonwoo, reminding him that it’s there, not just a fragment of public lies, it’s there and it’s true and he had a soulmate.

There’s a small tug – and suddenly the thread was strained, the end no longer invisible.

Wonwoo’s eyes followed the line, he’s trembling and he couldn’t feel his hands, his legs, his everything, his focus was on the red thread and where it went.

The string was hanging on the air, and it lead to a woman who stood in front of the reception desk. She had a dark, shoulder-length hair, and she wore a comfortable oversized sweater, bending down on the desk as she’s writing something, her bag on the counter top beside her.

Wonwoo had been on that place just minutes ago, filling out his request form to cut his thread.

And now his soulmate was doing exactly the same thing.

As if she just realized the appearance of her red thread, the woman straightened up, looking down to her stiff right hand.

Wonwoo wanted to run away, but he also wanted her to turn around, because he needed to see her, please please please just turn around—

She did turn, slowly, carefully…

When their eyes met, Wonwoo felt something invincible hit his chest, clogging up his throat and draining all energy from inside of him. He was there, and he wasn’t there, and the rest of the world stopped there and then.

His soulmate was the one broke away first, dropping the pen on her hand as she grabbed her bag hastily and ran down the hall back to the entrance.

As soon as the connection broke, like a fish returned to the sea Wonwoo was gasping for air, clutching at his heart, feeling it beat abnormally fast. His head was spinning, and all he could see was his soulmate’s face – widened eyes, blown up pupils, face pale and aghast. Like she was terrified.

Realization drawn to Wonwoo then.

Like a cruel joke, destiny had made him met his soulmate, right when they decided they never wanted to.

hopefully the whole red thread thing makes sense. thank you for reading!