Fated | Mino and Zico 

WhiteTigeress

Mino's Perspective

I knew the moment I looked into his eyes I should’ve run. But, there was something that kept me there – as if he and I were being drawn together. When I told my mother about how he made me feel, she frowned in concern and told me I should forget about him. I asked her why: What could be wrong with wanting to be with someone so beautiful. She simply said, “He’s your soulmate.”

Growing up, I had heard the word before. “Soulmate.” It meant nothing to me then; I wasn’t interested in love. But I remember the stories now – the warnings. People always said, “Run from your soulmate; stay with your match.” Because souls are like music. Each of us produce our own little chord, and out there in the world is someone who is in opposition – the minor to your major. Your soulmate.

Zico and I ignored every warning. We thought we were better than the old wives tales and the passion we shared too wonderful to be wrong. I melted into him, and I became awash in the desire to do anything – everything – to please him. It was so easy; too easy. He took control in our relationship, and he dominated everything. When we moved in together, it was because he had decided he hated having to pick which of our places we’d spend the night at. So, I moved in with him. I was happy to please him. He was my soulmate.

But then things started to go wrong. Zico would ask me where I had been if I was ten minutes late from work, and when we’d kiss he’d bite my lip until it bled. And then he snapped my finger. I went home then, and I tried to hide from him. I wanted it to be over – to escape him. That week, I buried myself in my work in an attempt to avoid the constant litany of thoughts whirling around in my head about the beautiful blond: If he was okay, if he missed me, if he wanted me back, if he still loved me. Even when I wanted to avoid him, I was still consumed by him. He was impossible to escape: Zico was my soulmate.

I went back to him after just three days.

Months crawled on, and the violence escalated. Even in the depths of summer, I had to wear long sleeves in order to hide the marks on my skin. Zico enjoyed trying to make it so I could not hide the tears in my flesh; he wanted to everyone to know I belonged to someone. But then, one day, a new face appeared in our department. He was terrifying, with his scowl firmly in place as he was introduced to us. I wanted to do everything I could do avoid him, but that desire was to remain unfulfilled. The new employee and I were assigned to work together on a presentation. I was hesitant; he did not seem like the best worker. But, oh, I was wrong. The more time we spent together, the more I came to realize the true nature of his character. He was grumpy at times, not to mention a diva, but he was also very thoughtful and precise. The quality of his work was some of the best in our company, and he was not afraid to tackle the seeming impossible. More than that, though, I realized we had so much in common: a love of similar music, art, dancing, fashion… I did not know it then, but I know it now: Taehyun was my match.

Just as some souls stand in opposition to one another, there are souls that serve as the perfect compliment. It is said that when you find a match, a relationship with one another is like the most beautiful symphony – a cascade of complimentary notes and chords that weaves a spell of perfect love. It’s everything that being in a relationship is supposed to be, because you are built to be with one another. Every night, as I lay next to Zico, I wished I were with Taehyun instead. But I couldn’t leave. Zico was my soulmate.

Our anniversary dinner was a mistake – or was it? I knew better than to go out with Zico; he had gotten more and more possessive as the weeks went on. But, Taehyun had mentioned a great new restaurant in the area, and I was desperate to try it. So I begged Zico to go. The man – grudgingly – acquiesced. Everything actually seemed to be going well: Zico liked the food, and he was smiling at nearly everything. It was not meant to be, though. Halfway through the last course, a familiar brunette stopped beside our table. “Mino! How are you?” I looked up into Taehyun’s eyes, and I felt my heart stutter. He was beautiful, my match.

We fell into talking with one another, but I could practically feel Zico simmering across the table. I would pay for my mistake – I knew it – and I am certain something in my eyes begged Taehyun to stay. As long as he was there, Zico could not hurt me. But, Taehyun had to return to his meal; he had to leave me. Before I knew it, the check was at our table and Zico was pulling me out of the restaurant; his grip was so tight that it made the bones in my wrist creak. He slammed me into the wall of the alleyway, causing the bricks to bite into my flesh.  “You filthy little ,” he growled, curling his hand around my throat. “How dare you? You’ve been cheating on me this entire time, haven’t you?” Zico knew Taehyun was my match.

I tried to fight back – to work my way free or call for help; but, Zico was too strong, and my body had suffered too much abuse throughout the months. Flashes of white and black began to dance across my view, and I had the clarity of thought to consider only one thing: Everyone was right – I should’ve run the moment I saw my soulmate.

But then there was a sound like lightning. The pressure at my throat relaxed, and Zico’s face swam back into my view as I gasped for air. He looked befuddled, as though someone had asked him a question he did not quite catch. Then, slowly, he stumbled back and pressed a hand to his throat. Thick, crimson blood seeped between his fine, thin fingers. And then I could see no more as I was gathered into a pair of arms, my face pressed into a warm chest. “Mino,” a familiar voice breathed in my ear. “I’ll call an ambulance. But you need to hold on, alright? Stay with me.” Taehyun.

My match had set me free.