The thing about soulmates was, you’d never knew when you’d meet them, or if you’d already met them and just didn’t realize it until it was too late. It felt like you’ve been waiting all your life just to see them, to be with them. Nights were filled with worries about not actually seeing them, days full of hope – maybe you’d bump into them today at that coffee shop you frequent. Maybe they also loved that green tea frappe you were addicted to. Maybe you were attending the same university, share the same department. Maybe they lived next door, or just right below your apartment. It was also possible that they lived in a different country, spoke a different language. The maybes didn’t help, sometimes, but there were a lot of possibilities to what, when and where when it came to soulmates, especially when one had yet to meet theirs. However, one thing was for sure: the intensity of the feelings you’d encounter upon meeting them was all worth the wait – like drowning, but not quite, because you could suddenly breathe better, clearer, your heart filling your chest, beating, never ceasing.

Luhan moved to Seoul, South Korea at the age of eighteen. He was a part of the exchange program that was sent to Yonsei University, and was currently studying Applied Music. He moved there at the full knowledge that he might be putting a huge gap between him and his soulmate. The what ifs plagued his mind most days: what if his soulmate was in Beijing, or somewhere in China; what if it was one of his friends; what if it was that pretty girl in the chorale group he was a member of. But he knew it was impossible, his heart knew. His dead heart. It had yet to beat. He once felt a beating heart, his mother’s, because he was curious then how it worked. He was ten. Eighteen now and he still didn’t know how it felt like to have his heart moved inside his chest. So he let it be, and waited. Patiently, impatiently. He was young, he had a lot of potential, that was what his professor told him. He had time. Right now, he’d focus on studying, both his degree and this new, absurdly hard foreign language he needed to learn so he could fit in in this absurdly odd country.

Luhan was twenty when he was street-casted at the largest entertainment company in the country. He was screened the moment he stepped into the building: sing, dance, act, they made them do all sorts of things, examined his bare body – for a moment he was horrified. He filled out all sorts of forms, and he was informed that they’d give him a contract two weeks from now, giving him enough time to think about this, so they’d know if he was sure or not. He was asked a series of questions, about his background, his family, his education, other formal trainings.

“Is your heart beating?” The staff, a plump lady with too much bb cream and an excessive amount of lip tint asked without looking up at her laptop.

Startled at the unexpected question, Luhan stuttered, and then, “No. No, it’s not.”

The lady glanced at him then, arching her eyebrow, before turning back to her computer. Luhan sighed.

“Since you are not paired yet, once you signed the contract, dating is prohibited the moment you start training up until your possible debut. From then on, the dating ban will depend on your new contract as an official artist of the company. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“The company, however, is lenient to paired trainees and artists. If your heart is beating, then you get a leeway. It would be preferred if your soulmate is in the same company, but since that’s uncontrollable, you are required to let your managers know once you found your soulmates, and they should know what to do.”

Again, Luhan nodded. He idly wondered if this lady was paired or not.

After another half-hour discussion of house rules, Luhan was let out, and he headed straight to his apartment. He called his parents and told them about the contract. His father was unhappy, but he relented, and his mother couldn’t have been more supportive. He understood his father, who was already against him studying music. He wanted Luhan to study business so he’d be able to lead their company once his father was ready to retire. It was just his luck that his parents loved him dearly to support him.

Two weeks later, he signed the contract and was welcomed by a few other staff. One led him to a practice room. Behind closed doors, he could hear the squeaks of sneakers against shiny, hardwood floor. He took a deep breathe, letting out the nerves and with the signal from the manager, opened the door.

The room was full of mirrors, with a floor-to-ceiling window at the east side, and posters of the company’s artists filling the west wall. The lights were bright, the music, some dubstep, blaring at hidden speakers. There were about ten boys, all dressed in practice clothes. Some were sitting at the corners, but most were in the middle dancing.

Luhan was busy looking around, taking the new faces, when suddenly there was a sound. It was coming from him, from within him. Frantic. Hard. His shaky hand flew to his chest and there it was, pounding against his ribs. Heartbeat. His heart was beating, fast. Dizzily, his leaned to the doorway, his knees trembling, ears buzzing. He suddenly couldn’t see.

Voices were heard, but they seemed far away. He barely registered the movements around him, but he did feel the couch, and then someone was making him sip some water from a cold glass. Only one thing was clear to him, one thing that was registering in his brain. His heart was finally, finally, beating – his soulmate was here.

After a few moments, he was calm enough to open his eyes, and when he did, unfamiliar faces were right in front of him, asking him several questions. Are you okay? How are you feeling? What happened?

“Are you feeling sick?” The manager that brought him in the training room asked. He blearily shook his head.

“I’m fine. Just…” Luhan clutched the front of his shirt. Should he tell them? His heart beating the moment he entered the room meant his soulmate was one of these people, but who? There were ten boys here, eleven if you included the manager. Luhan wanted to tell them, but he was worried. No one seemed to be reacted or had reacted the way he did. Did no one’s heart beat when he stepped in? Who among these peopl