“Come on, you have to sleep at some point,” Yifan muttered as he flicked the back of Luhan’s neck. The elder let out a groan and swatted blindly behind him, his eyes too focused on the paper before him to actually make a real attempt to hit the other. He swirled his paintbrush in the mug of murky water before dropping it onto the paper towel beside his canvas. The piece was definitely not how he pictured it, and it made him internally curse himself for, once again, not living up to his own expectations. He caught Yifan watching him, noticing the younger had gotten himself a glass of water and was now leaning on the fridge in observation of Luhan’s work. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Luhan retorted, glancing at the other before turning back to his palette of deeply pigmented paints.

    “It’s hot in my room.”

    Luhan rolled his eyes and picked up the brush, dabbing it gently into the cool green before drawing it across the canvas.

    “Is this your submission to that art show?” Yifan asked, settling in the seat across from him at their small dining table.

    “Yeah. I might end up scrapping it. I hate having a deadline.”

    “Well, that’s kind of a ty thing to hate.”

    He nodded silently as he fanned the green paint over what he was hoping to become an angry ocean. It did look angry, but to Luhan, it also looked like a mess of colors, blending ineffectively.

    “When’s the art show?”

    “Next Sunday.”

    “Okay. You’re not scrapping this. You’re too close to the deadline for that.”

    Luhan looked up at him, his eyes thin. “Have you ever painted something? It doesn’t really work like that. I’m not going to just go, ‘Well, I guess this monstrosity will do! It’s not like my career as an artist will rely on this show! Oh well,’” he showcased a sarcastic smile to the younger.

    “Come on, it doesn’t look bad. It’s better than what I could do.”

    “I’d have to agree with that.”

    Yifan stood up and placed his glass in the sink. “Just get at least a few hours of sleep, Luhan. You fell asleep at the table last night.”

    Luhan waved his hand at the other as he continued to slop paint onto the canvas.

    Luhan was a third wheel in his own apartment. He did as Yifan asked of him and slept in his own bed instead of slouching over the dining table, his hair mussed and his eyes hooded when he came out of his bedroom. He typically would make a face or an audible sound of discomfort when finding Yifan with his soulmate in his arms on the couch, but he didn’t have enough energy to let out any sign of annoyance. All he could do was drop down in the arm chair beside the sofa and let his head fall against the back. “Good morning, Luhan,” Yixing said, his hand lazily playing with Yifan’s fingers that laid across his waist.

    Luhan only let out a groan as a reply, his hand swooping up to run his fingers through his hair. His sleep-covered eyes caught a glimpse of the black characters on his wrist, and his body sank further into the chair. Now he knew why he loathed seeing those two cuddling in his presence.

    “Wow, you have gorgeous eyes.”

    “And you have pretty lips.”

    Yifan and Yixing’s phrases were sweet. The two had met at the beach, both with their own sets of friends. The mutual friends within the groups had merged them together, and that was the first time they laid eyes on each other. Yixing was fixated, and it just came out, “Wow you have gorgeous eyes.”

    Yifan, who was just as fixated at the younger, almost burst into tears hearing those words fall from someone’s lips after seeing them on his wrist for twenty-three years. He laughed to choke back the joyous tears, “And you have pretty lips.”

    Neither of them had those phrases on their wrists anymore, their skin being clean for over three years, having finally met each other.

    Luhan envied that. He envied how sweet of a meeting his friend had with his soulmate. Luhan, on the other hand, had to live his twenty-six years with a ludicrous phrase etched into his skin: “Hey panini head, are you listening to me?”

    Whoever his soulmate was, he was planning on punching them square in the face for having him live his life with that on his body.

    The gallery in which the art show would be held in less than a week was in an old warehouse, rented out to the owner. Luhan was thankful, for once, to be friends with the owner’s son, getting to go in a whole week before the show. They were already setting up the displays, replacing the industrial vibes with postmodern ones. Luhan and his friend had claimed seats on the second floor, where the design company was beginning to set up a dining area and canteen for the show. The tall blond seated beside him smiled wide. “How’s your painting coming along?” he asked.

    Luhan shrugged his shoulders and sank into the metal bench. “Not how I want.”

    “You better get on it,” he said, placing a hand on his knee. Luhan could barely catch the characters on Tao’s wrist, and he itched with curiosity to know what his said. He just wanted to meet one other person with an embarrassing phrase like his own.

    “What does your wrist say, Tao?” he finally breathed out.

    The younger’s eyebrows arched, but his twisted out his arm so that Luhan could see. A nervous laugh left him. “This isn’t exactly something a kid, or his mom, wants to see.”

    Luhan returned the laugh as he leaned closer to read, his mouth falling agape. “I want to you.”

    “That’s not… very safe for work,” Luhan managed to mutter. He couldn’t imagine being a child with that on your wrist.

    Tao shrugged his shoulders. “I’m kind of unphased by it now. I’ve also heard, like, four people say it to me. I made a decision, though. The next time someone says it to me, I have a comeback.”

    “So you’re also the type to ruin someone’s whole life for a joke line?” Luhan rolled his eyes, thinking on his own wrist.

    The blond shook his head, “I’d say, ‘I’d prefer if you made love to me.’ That’s specific enough for the both of us to realize, yes, we’re made for each other,” he looked at Luhan with a smile. “What does yours say?”

    “‘Hey panini head, are you listening to me?’”

    Tao bursted out in laughter.

    Luhan almost screamed out as he dropped his paintbrush down on the table, pushing his chair out and throwing his arms above his head in triumph. His actions earned a loud curse from Yifan, who sat a few feet away in the living room. “What the hell, Luhan?” he shouted.

    “It’s done! I want to die and I feel ing empty, but it’s done!” the elder exclaimed.

    Yifan walked into the dining area to look over his shoulder. He nodded his head with a smile when he saw the paint-covered canvas before him, “It looks great. I’m sure it’s going to get a lot of talk at the show.”

    “It needs a name,” Luhan said as he leaned back over the table.

    Yifan shrugged his shoulders, “You could be really cliche. Title it Sea or something, that gets hipster hard,” he grinned, “Better yet, just go with Untitled.”

    “Here’s something really hipster,” Luhan chimed, almost forgetting to sign his name on his piece. He woke up his phone to check the date, then announced boldly, “March Twenty-sixth.”

    He felt like he was floating when he saw his artwork hanging on that old brick wall. The small gold plaque beneath it said exactly what he hoped it would.

    March Twenty-sixth (2017)

    Acrylic on canvas

    Lu Han

    A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Luhan turned his head to find Yifan, a smiling Yixing attached to his side. “This place is crazy,” the tall one said, his eyes floating to Luhan’s painting. “Some of the art here is insane. I can’t believe splashing paint on a canvas can pass as artwork.”

    “It’s really amazing, Luhan!” Yixing smiled, a thumb jutting up to show his approval for the piece before them.

    “Thanks,” Luhan smiled back.

    “You want to look around? Or do you have to keep an eye on your art?”

    Luhan shook his head, “It’s not for sale, so I don’t have to stick around.”

    Luhan accompanied his friends around the show, finding himself having to explain a lot of the “artistic terms” the couple didn’t understand. Yixing did better with understanding it all than Yifan did, as the tall one only continuously questioned the meaning behind the artworks. Soon enough, they found themselves in a small group of people, some of them Luhan recognizing as friends of Tao’s father. Others, he had no idea what they brought to the table. He didn’t care to listen, letting the sounds drown in his ears. It wasn’t until a snap in front of his eye lifted him back into the real world. He found a man shorter than standing before him. “Hey panini head, are you listening to me?” the man said, and Luhan let out a yell that startled more than few people surrounding. The small man was taken aback, his small eyes wide.

    “Are you kidding me?!” he hollered.

    The surprise left the man in front of him, and he was in a fit of laughter. It took everything Luhan had in him to not smack him right then.

    “Sorry, is that what your mark said?” he asked, and Luhan couldn’t help the growl that left him.

    “Yes, that’s what my mark said,” he retorted. “You’re an .”

    “It’s not my fault. You were off in your own little world. I was trying to ask you a question, how else was I supposed to get your attention?”

    “What was your question?” Luhan asked, his eyes narrowed. He was already disliking his soulmate, and he had literally just spoken to him.

    “You’re Luhan, right?”

    “Yeah, why?”

    “Is your art piece for sale? March Twenty-sixth?”

    “Why?”

    “I thought it was beautiful.”

    Luhan whined, “Why couldn’t that have been your first words to me?”

    The shorter chuckled and shook his head. “I’m Minseok, by the way.”

    “Luhan-” he stopped himself, his mouth still opened, when he let out an embarrassed laugh, “I guess you already knew that.”

    “Can we talk prices, Luhan?”

    He closed his mouth and smiled. “Sure, Minseok.”

    “Why did you name that piece March Twenty-sixth?” Minseok asked as the sat on the top floor, the open plan allowing them to look down into the gallery. Barely anyone was left, a few artists remaining to talk to clients, and vice versa. Luhan shrugged and looking at the drink before him, his eyes floating to the light-haired man sitting across the table. “That was the date I finished it.”

    “Okay, I thought there was some other weird soulmate thing I didn’t know about. That was my birthday.”

    Luhan chuckled. “Maybe it is. Maybe, we’re, like, super soulmates.”

    “Probably not. I don’t know your birthday.”

    “April twentieth.”

    “Were you born in 1990?” Minseok asked, his eyes peering at Luhan from behind his glass.

    Luhan nodded.

    A smug grin crossed Minseok’s lips when he had lowered his drink. “Good to know I’m older than you.”

    Letting out a huff of a breath, Luhan grew the same type of smile. “I’m still taller than you.”

    “Come on, we just met, you can’t be making fun of my height already.”

    “It’s just a preview of what this relationship will have in store.”

    “I want a new soulmate.”

    “Tough luck, Minseok. You made me go twenty-seven years with that on my wrist,” he said pointedly, noticing that both of their marks were already fading. The characters held an ash color to them instead of the pitch black, and Luhan made note to ask Yifan about the meaning of the color. He looked back at Minseok. “You’re stuck with me, and you can’t do anything about it.”

    “You sure are romantic.”