Phase 1
Best BondPark Chanyeol sat in the front of all of his classes. Maybe it was because his vision was terrible, since he wore absurdly thick and round glasses that covered most of his eye area, or maybe he was just really eager to learn everything he could, since he was always earning the top grades in all of his courses. Whatever the reason, he always plopped his navy blue bag down in the first row, front left to be exact, and took out his bright yellow notebook. He would proceed to straighten out his hoodie that was almost always baggy on his already large frame, and crack his neck once, leaning toward his right side. After he settled in, he'd click his pen and start to print out the date and lesson that was displayed on the lecture hall's projector and effectively ignore every single giggling girl behind him.
Chanyeol didn't dislike girls, but he couldn't say that he'd ever had a particularly pleasant encounter with one. He didn't have a fan club- luckily he left that behind in high school- but girls seemed to find and stare at him the second he set foot on campus. Park Chanyeol found this to be of great annoyance because he didn't like to draw attention to himself, especially when he was attending university to become an aerospace engineer, which required almost all of his concentration. Sure, he could probably get away with average grades and still have an okay career, but he wanted to be the best candidate to come out of the school; he wanted his choice of top careers.
The other reason he didn't spend time bothering with girls was simply because like most guys his age, he'd like to spend more time trying to locate his soulmate. Chanyeol was almost ready to start his Ph. D program, and after 4 years of watching his peers chase after girls at parties or fruitlessly attempt to speed date to find their soulmates, he, and many other rowdy boys, had come to the conclusion that they didn't want to face their mid-twenties alone. It seemed that you either went around breaking hearts and wasting time on the wrong people, or sat and had no love life while waiting hopefully. Chanyeol was the second type, but after undergraduate, all people seemed to become a third type: desperately searching every face in the hallway for her... or him... or them. For any hint that your destined one was right in front of you.
Chanyeol left his lecture at 3:15 rubbing his left shoulder. It was a bit sore from holding himself a certain way on his chair in an attempt to not press on the bruise he sustained the previous night. Park Chanyeol was constantly hurting himself. His hoodies hid most of the bruises on his forearms, but nothing could be done to hide the swelling on his face some days. Rumors flew in freshman year when everybody thought he was in a gang, but he just stressed that his soulmate must be a very interesting, or clumsy, person and eventually the rumors stopped.
In truth, feeling the physical pain of your soulmate wasn't really supposed to leave marks- only when it was a serious injury that would take weeks to heal, so some people still gave Chanyeol a wide berth, suspecting that he was lying. Well, Chanyeol wasn't necessarily lying; he noticed his soulmate had frequent pain to the arms and stomach, like they were fighting all the time. Perhaps they were into martial arts?
But most of Chanyeol's bruises came from his experiences at night. Yes, on top of his degree and determination to be the best in every course, he also had an entirely secret life that robbed him of most of his time to sleep. He wasn't in a gang. He wasn't doing drugs. He was just... borrowing things. Specifically things that people with a lot of money would pay to get or get back as soon as possible. After all, tuition and living funds had to come from somewhere.
And so, Park Chanyeol sat in the front of all his classes, wearing thick glasses, taking diligent notes, and ignoring the whispers of girls as he adjusted the sleeves of his hoodies to cover the purpling bruises that bloomed across his wrists and forearms...
"Agent 61," my team leader, Agent 88, began, "Could you tell us what happened?" I held in a sigh and clenched my fist to stop it from trembling too much.
"I was in position and engaged with the target. I subdued the target to the point that I was about to render him unconscious in a chokehold and... and then my grip loosened and he managed to get air and call out. The alarms sounded and I ran."
I could barely look him in his dark brown eyes as they sternly glared back at me. No doubt he knew it wasn't the full story, but before I had made the mistake of admitting that my soulmate caused me pain, and my career was threatened because of it. I had worked too hard to become a nearly fully fledged operative at the age of 23 to be fired for being a liability for something that was beyond my control. I couldn't help my soulmate was a total moron and somehow always received very painful and hard to ignore injuries. I was one successful mission away from moving up in rank and granted even higher level missions. One mission away from my dream position. Just one more until I hit the top.
"Was there any particular reason for your faulty grip, 61?" The director asked, extremely put out with our failure to retrieve the flash drive. I internally winced, knowing nothing I would say would be good enough justifying blowing a top secret (no longer) covert operation that held the lives of entire countries in the balance. The information in the flash drive could topple our government, so naturally everybody in the room had currently declared me as the most irresponsible agent ever.
"My hand cramped," I said in a small but unwavering voice. Agent 88's eyebrows shot up and I could see him snort in disbelief. To his left, Agent 49 frowned, lines on her forehead going deep, trying to put together how my hand cramp had apparently been more important than the mission... or was so bad I'd risked our current way of life to relieve the pain. The director just sighed, looking incredibly disappointed and tired.
"We all know what this failure means," he began, "but there is another mission that was devised in the event that this one failed. Team Kappa will be sent on another retrieval to intercept the target once again, but at international borders. Agent 61, however, will not be taking part in this mission and will instead be replaced with Agent 68."
My heart fell as I struggled to maintain a straight face.
"Agent 68 will take the place of Agent 61 on all future missions until further notice." My eyes widened. I couldn't help it.
"You're replacing me?!" I cried out, knowing that I deserved it for the lie, but not because our failure was my fault. Damn my soulmate, damn these bonds, damn my life! "But I have been a part of Team Kappa since its creation. Please, sir, I know that I haven't been performing the best but I won't keep-"
"Enough." I immediately quieted. The director was no longer just tired. His eyes burned into me, showing me how much I had messed up. The fact that he hadn't already fired me was kind, but he was at his limit. I sat further into my chair, feeling shame creep up my throat to make a lump.
"Agent 61," he continued, refusing to break eye contact, "you will be sent to Agent 12 for pain tolerance and torture resistance training. Until you can endure the highest amounts of psychological and physical pain, you will not be participating in any missions as a field operative. If you cannot achieve this level of control, you will never resume your path in covert operations. In the meantime, you will be stationed at a nearby university to study and gain the skills to operate within this department behind a desk or on a special task force, or face termination. Do I make myself clear?"
My knees felt weak and I knew I was pale. I could see Agent 88 shift uncomfortably out of the corner of my eye. Agent 49 winced in sympathy, but neither tried to say that I should have another option. I suppose I wouldn't interfere either... I didn't want to agree.
"Yes, director."
But there was nothing else I could do.
Park Chanyeol supposed that most university students spent their Wednesday nights catching up on assignments to leave their Friday open, or studying for an end of week quiz. In fact, Chanyeol did have a calculus quiz Thursday afternoon, and the date to take his GRE was fast approaching, so he really couldn't afford to be crouching behind a desk on the 8th floor of an office building squinting at air duct blueprints in the dark.
"Not to rush you or anything, but a disabled alarm system doesn't mean we won't get caught," a voice from his right spoke calmly, but sternly. Chanyeol gave a quiet sigh.
"Yes, I'm aware," he replied, glancing over at the group's techie. He was a guy around his age who was disarmingly innocent -looking for the amount of high-class files he'd stolen in the past. He gave Chanyeol a dimpled smile in return and refocused his attention to the little screen in his hands.
"You have about 45 seconds to figure out our best route before I have to enter something else. Enter it too many times and we're busted."
"Got it."
Now, the wisest option for this plan to be successful was to study the blueprints in advance, but, to Chanyeol's dismay, he wasn't handed anything until about 25 minutes ago. Unfortunate, but not uncommon in his line of work. He nodded to himself as his finger traced the best and most direct option, memorizing the route in his head. He rolled the paper and set it back into his sleeve before aligning the ladder he borrowed from a janitor's closet underneath his starting point.
"Ready?" He asked to the techie, still not knowing, and probably never knowing his name. That was fine, seeing as nobody in the group knew his either. You can't sell out your partners in crime if said partners had no names or addresses, though he didn't doubt the man he was working with currently had accessed information on all of them at some point. The techie smiled and gathered his things before gracefully moving up the ladder into the vent.
"Oh. Guess taxpayer dollars don't actually pay for cleaning services," he remarked to himself quietly as he crawled further inside. Chanyeol smirked underneath his mask and rolled his eyes. He replaced the ladder to the side and moved the desks over just enough that he could reach the ceiling with his long frame. He hoisted himself up as quickly as possible and found the techie tapping away at his screen. He looked at Chanyeol moving the gate back in place and smiled serenely in the dim glow from his device. "The floor is re-armed. Hopefully it'll just show up as a temporary blip and they won't think it's suspicious until after they realize something's wrong."
Chanyeol nodded in reply and took out his flashlight on a head strap and put it into place before starting out on the route he had chosen. The techie followed behind him, making very little noise, which Chanyeol appreciated. If anybody was patrolling, they had a chance of not being detected.
The office they were looking for was in the southern corner of the building and only had one hallway leading to it, meaning if they wanted to escape using something other than the ventilation, their options were limited. Park Chanyeol managed to lead them to the correct room in under 10 minutes, earning him a tiny fist bump. A few taps later and the techie snorted under his breath.
"What?" Chanyeol asked him.
"All of that money on a kick- security system and it's only the hallway that's armed in this section. How cheap can you get?"
They quickly dropped onto the desk, trying not to knock anything to the floor or wrinkle any papers. Chanyeol withdrew a tiny mic from the pouch around his waist and started searching for the perfect place to plant it while the techie went straight for the computer, smiling the entire time.
"You know I disabled any cameras that would catch us, right?" he asked Chanyeol conversationally. Chanyeol stopped wrangling with a stubborn wire for a second to shoot him a look over his shoulder.
"I would hope so," he responded, and the techie chuckled softly.
"So you don't need to wear your mask." Chanyeol had planted the mic and was now moving on to finding a convenient spot for a camera. He paused in his footsteps.
"No offense, but out of the two of us," he said, "I think you'd have the upper hand in finding who I am just from my face." The techie just grinned even wider before resuming his task in silence. Chanyeol shook his head and finally decided on a spot behind some knick-knack that seemed to have collected a lot of dust. It didn't look like it had been moved in ages, and he doubted anybody who came to the office would give it a second glance.
It wasn't long before a flash drive was inserted into the computer and their only task left was leaving the building (preferably) without being detected. The techie decided he didn't want to crawl through the vents again and so, against Chanyeol's better judgment and protests, he disarmed the floor and started out down the hallway.
Park Chanyeol was decent at math. Well, maybe a bit more than decent, given his life's ambitions. He hadn't calculated the odds of being caught on the office floor, making a leisurely exit out of the building, but he thought there was probably a higher chance than he felt comfortable risking.
Park Chanyeol was also frequently right. A fact he cursed as he and the techie booked it around another corner of a cubicle. The techie (who was surprisingly fit for sitting behind computers for a living) had the audacity to be completely amused while running. Chanyeol, however, was not thrilled in the slightest.
"Why are... you so damn... happy ri... right now?!" He hissed out as quietly as he could as they came up on the stairwell. He knew whoever was pursuing them had probably radioed other guards by now, seeing as the worker had a uniform that was decidedly not cleaning staff. The techie glanced over at him as they slammed open the stairwell door and dashed for the stairs. Chanyeol was yanked to the side as the techie prevented him from going down and instead hauled him to start climbing. Chanyeol frowned but really didn't have the time to argue.
"I... already made...sure our... getaway.... was... here... and I-oh ," he nearly stumbled on a stair before recovering, "I... took down... the phone lines... before we... came in."
So maybe the situation wasn't that bad, but now Chanyeol was climbing 5 flights of stairs at rapid speed instead of jumping down them much faster to the safety of the ground floor. Park Chanyeol had to be fit to do this line of work, but he was not quite in shape enough for more than 3 flights of this.
And especially not when his fingers started to ache like somebody was prodding them with needles.
"What... what the ," he let out as he almost slowed his speed just to inspect his hands. But he already knew he hadn't injured them. Soulmate, Chanyeol thought angrily, of ing course they can't go one day without taking a beating.
They hit the landing of the 12th floor and Chanyeol almost celebrated. He could hear more people chasing them below (guards had joined in from each floor), but they were so close to stopping the stair climbing that he felt like singing. Whatever his soulmate was doing now was getting worse, and this time he could feel needles in his feet, too.
They shoved open the door to the roof and Chanyeol was briefly surprised to see a very tiny helicopter waiting. He gave his partner the side-eye, wondering just who the techie knew to be able to secure that as a getaway. He wasn't about to complain though, and surged on ahead, trying to ignore the squeezing feeling he was getting in his calves.
They reached the aircraft and didn't spare a backwards glance as they climbed aboard, the rotors already spinning. Park Chanyeol bumped his head on the roof and clenched his teeth in response before sitting down and trying to soothe it with a rub. The techie slammed the door shut and secured it as the helicopter lifted off the pad, and Chanyeol squinted his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the searing pain now coming from his thighs. Are they being ing tortured, what the hell is this?
There was only one other time he had felt this sort of intense and prolonged pain and it had been during his first years of university. Whatever his soulmate had been doing made him question actually wanting to meet them, fearing they may be a psychopath. Who else would suffer day and night with inhumane, annoying, and random pain targeting everything but vital organs? (And then clearly lived through it, seeing as pain continued for years to come.)The pain stopped abruptly and Chanyeol let out a sigh of relief before observing his surroundings.
The techie had pulled out a laptop from a waiting bag and was furiously typing as he inserted the flash drive with the information he had just stolen. The pilot spared neither man who had barged aboard a glance and just kept his gaze on the horizon. The techie finished whatever he was doing and smiled.
"We'll get paid within the next few days," he announced, "I sent everything that was needed as soon as possible so even if they find what we did, it's too late." Chanyeol just nodded his head in acknowledgment.
"So, I'm a bit tired of calling you "techie" in my head," he stated, "even though you're great at what you do. We've worked together for a few jobs now. What should I call you?" The techie tilted his head in thought.
"Well, I can't tell you anything real, so I guess I'll make it up," he said, looking back at Chanyeol, "It would help to have something. Let's go with a number, like we're secret agents." Chanyeol snorted. As if, he thought, do agents even have numbers or is that a media myth? "I'm 10, then. I like 10."
"Why 10?"
"I just said, I like it. Even, metric, perfect 10."
"Math guy," Chanyeol said, as if he wasn't one himself. "Okay, then if I chose a number, I'd be-"
"Nah, I don't like a number for you."
"What?"
"You don't look like a number guy." That's because Chanyeol currently looked indignant.
"I'm an engineer!"
"No," grinned "10", "you're an engineering student, according to your records." Chanyeol glared at his partner. Of course he knew, which meant he knew his real name as well, the bastard. "I know, how about "guy"?"
"...Guy?"
"Yeah, no name, just guy." Chanyeol sighed.
"Whatever."
Chanyeol dropped the matter and looked out the window as he cringed from the pain that had started up again. Before long, he was breathing a little hard as he tried his best to appear as if he wasn't affected in the slightest. If 10 or the pilot noticed, they didn't comment.
The helicopter traveled through the night as the city lights faded, Chanyeol's consciousness fading with it.
I had spent about 4 hours on campus, disguising my limp (thank you, Agent 12) as I toured the various buildings, before I decided I absolutely hated it.
First, I was made to schedule a GRE test because for some reason, the agency would prefer I have a Master's or Ph.D in an engineering field. Taking a giant test? Not fun, but not the worst, right? Wrong. My specialty is not aerospace or anything mathematical, and that test was fast approaching. They also forged documents for undergraduate and put me in mid-semester through some "connections" they had to apparently make my "cover" more believable, which did not make a of sense to me because as far as I was concerned, I wasn't actually undercover. They insisted that I start my (fake) academic career as a senior about to go into graduate school, due to my age, and I was now the top-scorer in the university as a result of their forgery. Yes, I was smart to be where I was in the agency, but I wasn't a top engineer. I had questioned them multiple times on this decision, but was met with the excuse that if I was forced to step out of the operative field, they needed somebody in the branch to be able to work on very high-tech things, and since I was going in anyway...
Second, I had already passed 3 groups of girls that looked like they had permanent glares stuck on their faces, and all of the glares were pinpointed on my face or clothes. I convinced myself they couldn't possibly be mad at me for nothing because contrary to popular belief, girls were not the type to fight on sight, but after the 3rd batch I was starting to get a little worried that I had somehow scorned any potential friends.
Third, and perhaps the most important reason I decided I hated this place, was that somebody had asked to see my soulmate mark about 4 times now. Once in the Dean's office by a student waiting to face punishment, one by the exit as I left the Dean's building, one on the steps of the library, and the final one was currently staring me in the face.
"No, you can't see it," I responded, narrowing my eyes. The girl's face fell and she moved on, clearly feeling a bit dejected. I felt slightly bad for her, but at this point I was running out of patience. I continued to the STEM side of the campus, having already located the dining hall, and was intending to find my classes next so I wouldn't be late on my first day. As I passed a path lined with some beautiful cherry blossom trees about to go into bloom for the spring, I mused to myself.
Asking to see a soulmate mark isn't necessarily rude, but it's also like asking somebody if they're single, or their weight or age. It's a little too personal and direct to ask a stranger as the start of your conversation, though it happens frequently enough. I had been undercover at a club once and was covering my mark with make-up, since it's on my collarbone. The amount of people that asked about it was incredibly high, and I don't think it was because I looked good or approachable. It seemed that people just got... desperate. Lonely. They hoped to find their match quickly and finally go home with somebody forever. I hadn't expected to face a similar situation in university, mostly because the mark wasn't the only indication of your soulmate.
Drunk people may think that they have a connection with somebody through eye contact, and then ask to see the mark to confirm, because their senses are clouded. Sober (or mostly sober) people in college running into random strangers should know immediately if they have a connection with somebody before asking to see the mark even though they already know. Asking without a connection is slightly... weird. I've heard that a connection is really powerful. Your senses blur and all you see is the person staring back at you before your surroundings turn back to normal. The people who've found their soulmates say that there's no mistaking the feeling. It's so obvious and natural, you already feel in your soul that the person belongs to you and you to them.
So yeah, all this asking? No thank you.
I finally reached the building that would hold my first lecture of the week: physics. It wasn't particularly distinct, but the campus hadn't been very difficult to memorize. I walked into the building and looked around until I spotted my lecture hall. Taking a peek inside, I saw that the rows of seats started quite high and descended as you moved closer to the boards and lecture podium at the bottom of the room. I frowned, trying to imagine where I would want to sit. Front for sure, but the front middle, left, or right? I decided that I would sit on the right side of the classroom and try to stay out of the way. Not sure if any of the students were particularly competitive, but I was now in the top position without rightfully earning it, and I have to back it up. 4th year engineering courses... I was doomed.
I made my way to the rest of the lectures, thinking about my studies that began the next day. Well, I have done worse things. It won't be easy, but I do kinda have the same academic skills as my fellow students. Worst case scenario I have youtube tutorials and tutors.. and maybe some hacking to save my grade...
Hey, I have skills, but I also have connections. Dirty or not, I didn't want the top spot or the degree in the first place; they wanted it for me, so they could fix it.
I finally made my way off-campus to where they had set up my small studio apartment. It was minimalistic and had everything I would need to live a university life while also taking care of paperwork and pain resistance training at the agency. I decided to go grocery shopping to get some produce so I could at least keep up my fitness while I studied. No freshman 15 for me, thank you very much.
I headed to a very conveniently located store about 4 blocks away and started browsing the section for some garlic, onions, and peppers. As I was focused on the price of yellow onions v.s. their white counterparts, I bumped into a guy examining the potatoes behind the onions.
"Oh, sorry, " he apologized, smiling a little sheepishly. "Didn't see you." I just smiled gently in response and inclined my head before going back to deciding which onion I wanted.
"You know, there's actually a better price for onions on the endcap?" He said, taking note of what I was trying to buy, "A bag of yellow onions for $5.00." I raised my eyebrows before following his outstretched finger to see the bags piled in the display. I... do consume a lot of onions... I looked back at him and gave him a genuine smile.
"Thank you!" I glanced at his hand again and saw a mark on his wrist hidden by a bracelet. Oh... shame. Helpful, polite, and killer dimple. Would have been nice... He gave me a little wave as I moved off and grabbed a bag before moving on to get some green onions and chives. I was buying small quantities of stuff so it was obvious to anybody that looked in my cart that I lived alone, so I hoped that I would not be asked for the 5th time about my soulmate mark. I reached for a bunch of green onions and decided I did not want chives before eyeing some hot peppers not far away. I grabbed a bag and started dumping quite a few in. It's funny, I thought, soulmate marks have to be identical and in the same place to be considered matching. Does that mean somebody can share my mark and yet have it on their bicep or neck? Are their groups of people that have the same mark? Do they share any common traits? Do they make good friends instead of romantic partners?
I stopped for a second as I finished that thought. Why don't I know the answer to that? Soulmates are so often discussed... but why does nobody discuss the natures of marks? I was momentarily distracted from shopping as I quickly typed in the search bar of my phone.
Oh.
Turns out, I was just misinformed. Soulmate marks do not repeat and are always in the same place. I see. Well, that was a fun topic to explore while it lasted.
I turned my attention to the meat cases and started picking out some fresh cuts before moving to pick up some orange juice and water. I checked out and contemplated how to pick up everything I bought so I could carry it the 4 (not so convenient anymore) blocks home. I had tucked the water and orange juice into the crook of my elbow and was reaching for the rest of my bags when the wrist covered with the black bracelet from before came into view. I quickly looked up to see the guy give me a small grin before grabbing my choices of meat and a bag of vegetables, leaving me the rest. I thought this was more than fair seeing as he had his own container of apple juice, potatoes, and a few other bags.
"Oh," I said, trying not to show that I really did want his help, "thank you, but you really don't have to." He shook his head.
"Nah," he replied, "I can't leave you to struggle." The dimple re-appeared and I almost felt a light blush make its way over my cheeks. Almost.
"Thank you so much." He nodded in reply and we set off. He didn't show any confusion when I walked in the direction of my new studio, so I asked him where he lived.
"Oh, I live up this road and then make a right at 23rd, and then a left onto North." I blinked, a little surprised. It was close to mine; the next complex over.
"Are you a student at the university then?" He nodded.
"I'm a computer science major." I continued to be surprised.
"You're really..." I tried to find a nice way to say it, "fit. To be a comp. sci major. I usually meet much paler and thinner people." Yes, our hacking/encryption department head, Agent 99, was very pale. Like a snowflake. With the icy glare to match. The dimpled boy broke into a fit of giggles at my words and waved me off best he could with all the items in his arms.
"No," he said, "I'm not really that... great, or fit." He said modestly, and I almost rolled my eyes. "What major are you?" Oh wow, my first time to be asked this question. This is what people should be asking about instead of my damn soulmate mark.
"Aerospace Engineering," I said, and his eyes sparkled with amusement and a look I couldn't quite understand.
"You don't look like your major, either," he said, grinning to himself, and this time I did blush, ignoring the voice in the back of my head protesting that people in majors could look like anything (despite me already blurting a stereotype seconds before). "What's your name? Maybe we'll see each other on campus." I pretended to be looking at a nearby bus that had just stopped to let passengers on to disguise my slightly panicked expression. Name.. nobody had asked me that in forever... I'm always a number.
"Kim... Seoyun," I supplied, pulling the name from the legend the agency had handed me when they told me about this endeavor. "What's yours?" He also seemed to take the time to muse.
"Lay."
"Like... like the chips?" I asked, a little amused that this stranger was as hesitant about giving out his real name as I was. He rummaged in one of his bags before displaying a bag of Lay's chips proudly with a cute smile on his face.
"Yes," he said, "I eat them so much.. so.." He trailed off and I raised my eyebrows before shrugging. Hey, we all have private lives and reasons. I won't judge. "Well, this is 23rd. I'll see you, maybe." And with that, "Lay" was gone and my groceries were in my arms just barely balanced.
I had a grin on my face as I trudged through my door, quickly depositing my new food on my counter.
Things could be worse...
For Park Chanyeol, things could not be worse.
Chanyeol had ambitions. Chanyeol had plans. Chanyeol had goals.
Chanyeol was now also staring in disbelief and anger that he was no longer the top of the aerospace engineering students. He knew that he had passed everything last Thursday and Friday with exceptional marks, especially in physics.
But who the hell was Kim Seoyun?
Chanyeol closed his laptop in a huff after checking where his assignments and overall grade was in relation to the rest of the class. Usually, he was the "roof" of the grades and the dot closest to the top. But now there was a dot above him when there hadn't been for the past 3 1/2 years, and a forwarded email from the Dean's secretary to all of his classes about a new student named "Kim Seoyun" that should be welcomed warmly. He quickly put two and two together and started seething.
Park Chanyeol said before that he didn't dislike girls. But now he was tempted to change his mind and pray to any deity that was listening for his soulmate to be male. He scratched his head out of frustration and went to pour himself a glass of water before returning to his table to open his laptop again and complete his pre-lecture reading. He read and understood the article, but couldn't shake off his annoyed mood.
Before his Sunday night was through, Chanyeol decided to comfort himself with something from the convenience store 2 blocks away. He grabbed one of his hoodies and pulled it over his head before snatching his keys and heading out of his apartment. Park Chanyeol, due to his nightly activities, was able to afford living alone, which was very necessary as he didn't need a nosy roommate wondering where the cash or bruises came from. Chanyeol also needed silence to study and having a roommate guaranteed noise.
He walked with his hands in his pockets, not taking much notice of the appreciative stares from the young women on the street. Chanyeol had his mind on two things: how awful he felt, and getting a big tub of ice cream.
He reached the store in record time, anger having fueled his walk, and made straight for the frozen section, ignoring the squeak of surprise from a freshman as he barrelled past. He quickly decided on chocolate caramel swirl before heading to the counter and tossing in a bag of sour patch kids and a 15 pack of mint gum along the way. He paid and exited, laser-focused on getting back to his apartment and eating himself sick. the gym, he thought, this is bull.
He was so intent on making it back, he didn't notice the girl in front of him until she yelped a split-second before he crashed into her. Chanyeol, of course, stayed put, nothing in his bag going flying, but the girl was knocked to the ground and her glasses slipped off her face. His eyes widened and he quickly retrieved her glasses, handing them to her as she brushed the hair out of her face and the dirt from her knees.
"I'm so sorry, " he said, wincing, "I didn't notice you there. Are you alright?" The girl put on her glasses after checking for any damage before looking up at him and blinking. Chanyeol lost his breath for a moment and his heart thumped, because she was the cutest girl he'd ever seen.
"I'm alright," she said, a bit too cheerily for somebody who had just been bowled over, "Surprised, though." Chanyeol smiled and offered her his hand, which she gladly accepted. He pulled her to her feet, looking for any skinned knees. She seemed to be mostly okay but had a small scratch on the side of her left leg and he winced.
"Here," he said, not quite believing that his sheer bodily force could send a human being tumbling and skidding across the ground and making a mental note to be more careful around tiny people in the future, "let me go buy you a bandage for your leg."
The girl tried to protest, but Chanyeol was already heading into the store. He found the first-aid section and pondered for a moment over which pattern to buy. Would she appreciate a pink, Hello Kitty band-aid? It would match her outfit... He grabbed them and once again headed to the counter and paid before exiting the store. The girl was there waiting, biting her lip and frowning. His heart gave a little flutter at her pouting.
"You really didn't have to-"
"I insist," he said, taking out a bandage and pausing. Do I... Do I put it on...? Is that overstepping? He decided to put it on, but do so slowly so she could say if she was uncomfortable. The girl looked surprised but remained quiet, seemingly resigned to let him do what he wanted. He opened the packaging and stuck it to her leg before glancing around as much as he dared for any other damage. His eyes caught a black mark in a lacy pattern toward the middle of her thigh and his jaw dropped. He glanced away quickly and stood up but couldn't stop his face from turning red.
Was that a tattoo or can soulmate marks really be that... hot? ? y? He hadn't ever contemplated marks being in intimate places.
He also hadn't known that he found thigh tattoos attractive, but Chanyeol guessed you learned something new every day.
The girl either didn't notice his sudden embarrassment or didn't think anything of it and thanked him before asking him for his name. They exchanged names and found that they were both studying at the nearby university, which prompted the exchange of contact information. Even though Chanyeol knew she wasn't his soulmate, he couldn't deny that he wanted to know this girl.
They went their separate ways and Chanyeol finally made it in his apartment and was free to eat his half-melted ice cream. As he sat there looking at the opened carton, he couldn't help but smile to himself, all thoughts of Kim Seoyun eradicated.
I walked into my physics lecture the next day, pleased to see that the front right was available for me to sit in. I swept past all of the other students and group of whispering girls in the center and set down my black backpack. I smiled to myself as I took out my purple notebook and arranged my two blue pens on my tiny, lecture seat desk. The agency had been nice enough to buy me sets of color-coordinated school supplies and I almost wrote them a "thank you" note for it. I absolutely adored having organized sets of things.
I swept my hair over my shoulder and looked toward the front. A couple TAs were there already, but the projector hadn't been set up yet, so there was nothing to do but wait. I rolled my eyes as I thought of all the other things I could have been doing instead of spending my time waiting for lectures to begin and filling out homework for a degree I didn't even want. Agent 68 is probably having the time of his life with my team right now, I thought glumly.
"Hey," I heard to my left, but assumed that it wasn't for me, since nobody knew me or was sitting even close.
"You, new girl." Okay, that was for me. I turned with an eyebrow raised.
"Yes?" I asked, trying to keep my tone polite. A girl near the center had called my attention.
"Have you found your soulmate yet?" Are all the people in this damn school so bold? Doesn't anybody ask about the weather anymore?
"Uh," I said, "No. I'm not really looking?" I offered, seeing her expression turn even more annoyed when I said "no".
"You're not looking? Don't you care?" My jaw dropped, slightly surprised she was prying when we didn't know each other.
"I mean, I care a little, but I'm just focusing on my career for now," I told her and she seemed to pause.
"Oh... I'm sorry," she apologized, "I was just defensive, I guess, since you're new and Chanyeol hasn't bonded with anyone yet and apparently nobody in this class is his soulmate and I thought maybe... you might be his." I was again taken aback by how forward people seemed to be here, but happy that she at least offered me an explanation.
"Oh... No, it's cool," it's totally not cool, "but who the heck is Chanyeol?" Her eyes went wide for a second before she smiled.
"Oh, he's the top of the class! He sits up there in the front, is super smart, super tall, super beautiful, and super dreamy." I tried to mask my disgusted expression. Girl, I know we're not English majors but there are more words than "super". I just gave an awkward smile and nodded.
"Okay, thanks," I said and turned back around, eyes wide with disbelief that some girls still obsess over certain men like it's high school 2.0. Though, I suppose if I had a crush in class I'd obsess a bit, too. Maybe not to the point of questioning the new girl, but to each their own.
The professor came in and started to set up his computer slides. I tapped my pen a few times impatiently, just wanting to take notes and leave before anybody else asked me more questions I would prefer not to answer. I started writing the topic for today's lecture and the professor's name when he came walking over to me with a syllabus in hand. I smiled and thanked him before putting it in my physics folder in my bag. As I straightened up, I smacked my right shoulder on my desk and inhaled a little sharply. It didn't hurt that much after all of my training, but it was unexpected. I rubbed it as I looked forward, going to pick up my pen again.
Right before the lecture started, I heard excited whispers from the girls in the center. A tall guy came down the center aisle swiftly and made his way to the front left. I made a mental note that this must be the Chanyeol kid that everybody wanted and went on to copy the first slide that the professor was starting to discuss.
Park Chanyeol nearly slammed himself into the seat he always occupied during his first lecture, a little out of breath. He was rarely late for class, but had admittedly overslept after watching too many episodes of a TV show that he liked and never had the chance to see. He rubbed his shoulder to quickly rid himself of the last of the sudden pain he had seconds before. He readied his notebook and immediately started taking notes, shutting out the rest of the lecture hall.
He had to be perfect. He had to be the best.
Toward the end of the lecture when the professor was reiterating points Chanyeol already understood, he allowed himself to subtly eye the classroom best he could from the front row. Seeing as he was usually the only one who sat in the front, he immediately focused on the girl in the same row to his far right. That must be Kim Seoyun, he thought, I've never seen her before. He studied the girl a bit longer, noticing how she wrote down just about everything that was said without breaking focus. She was attentive and extremely good at writing without looking when she needed to, which Chanyeol grudgingly admitted he found impressive.
The lecture ended and she packed up quickly, not sparing anybody a second glance before she was out the door. Chanyeol put his notebook and pen in his bag, noting to himself that he never even caught a glimpse of her face before she had made her exit. How can I compete against my biggest rival if I don't even know what she looks like?
He didn't worry himself about it too much, though, seeing as they shared a major and all of their classes. There was no way he wouldn't be able to gather information on her soon, if he needed to use it for his benefit.
Speaking of information for his benefit...
Chanyeol had participated in a particularly dangerous job not that long ago that involved a flash drive that apparently contained very vital information to the government. He still hadn't been paid for helping get ahold of it. Once outside of the lecture hall, he moved into a secluded corner and placed a phone call.
"Hello?" said the voice on the other end of the line.
"Why haven't I been paid yet?" Chanyeol got straight to the point. He needed the money for any potential summer classes he had to take to prepare for graduate school in the fall.
"I told you, you'll get paid once the information on the drive has been turned over. It's been... delayed." Chanyeol clenched his jaw.
"Alright, but I better get my money the second it leaves," he said, ending the call without a "goodbye". He felt a dull stinging in his palms and knees and rolled his eyes. His soulmate's injuries weren't helping his current mood. He decided to text the girl he had run into the night before to see if she was free to grab a drink before his next lecture. She said yes, and he walked out of the corner he had been in and started walking toward one of the on-campus cafes. He looked to his side and noticed the new girl, Kim Seoyun, on the ground. She was muttering under her breath and picking up her bookbag and phone. He rolled his eyes and kept walking, his mood somewhat helped by the fact his biggest rival didn't seem to be having a good day, either.
I changed my mind.
I now think that girls are likely to start something on sight.
As I walked out of the lecture hall, I had run into a few girls that were not in the lecture but apparently also had some sort of feelings for this Chanyeol guy, because they immediately seemed to know I was not usually in the class and one bumped my shoulder roughly as I passed by. I managed to stay on my feet but apparently I was quite befuddled by that happening. About 50 feet later, while I was going over the incident in my head and checking my schedule on my phone, I tripped over a raised stone I actually hadn't seen and went down face first. I heard a couple laughs behind me but ignored them. I was more focused on the fact that I tripped because I had been trained to notice everything and keep my balance. I muttered angrily to myself as I collected my things and made for one of the dining halls.
Once inside, I swiped my food card and made straight for the salad bar, really wanting something refreshing after listening to that dry physics lecture. As I sat down to enjoy my quick lunch, I heard the seat next to me scraping out and down sat Lay. I was so pleasantly surprised to see him that when I went to call his name, to my horror, a stray piece of lettuce went flying out. Lay promptly burst into laughter and I blushed as I grabbed one of my napkins and cleaned my face before wiping up the offending piece.
"Sorry," I said, trying to laugh with him, but more than upset with myself for doing that in front of one of the most attractive guys I've talked to and not shared worked with. He waved me off and asked about my first day, to which I told him all about the audacity of the girls in this university.
"Park... Chanyeol?" He asked, seemingly familiar with the name, "that guy?" I nodded, exhaling through my nose in exasperation.
"I don't even know him and he's already making my life annoying," I complained, stabbing a tomato. He looked at my salad.
"No cucumbers?" He asked.
"Hate 'em." Actually, I was allergic, but I wasn't about to reveal to a stranger how to kill me by barely lifting a finger. He raised an eyebrow.
"Anyway, I happen to know he's the same major as you and probably shares all of your classes," I groaned as he continued, "I also know that he happens to be super... competitive." I stopped chewing for a moment.
"...Oh?" I asked, now giving him my full attention. That does not spell good things for me at this school... should I suggest a transfer? I don't need girls trying to kill me because their precious Chanyeol is mad.
"Yeah," Lay continued, "I imagine he's not too happy about the student who took his top spot... whoever that may be." I stared at Lay before smiling in what I hoped was an innocent manner.
"Well, to be that person, eh?" And I shoved another forkful of salad in my mouth before Lay smirked and went to get his own food. I watched him walk away, now frowning.
I no longer thought that "Lay" was as normal or innocent as he first appeared. He seemed to know just a little too much at all the right times.
Park Chanyeol ended his Monday with another arrangement for a job on Tuesday night. The mic and camera he had planted the previous Wednesday hadn't provided any additional information that they didn't already know. The CEO they were trying to expose hadn't dealt in any more corrupt deals with politicians, sadly. The nerve of some people. So the group's focus had changed: repeat the same process but with a different CEO that was most likely dealing with the same politician. Blackmail the politician, return the files after receiving the money, and then turn the duplicate files over to government officials anyway.
This should have been easy work. It always was in the past. However, Chanyeol couldn't help but notice that the group leader was acting a bit... strange. Apparently, according to his sources, there was a more intense crackdown on files with highly encrypted information. Chanyeol wasn't really surprised, but he was wondering why the group leader was under the impression that the government would try to stop them... for stopping corruption.
He paused in front of his laptop and researched the corporations they were targeting. None of the stocks had crashed, no negative headlines... but they were both international companies. Is this... bigger than a local politician?
Park Chanyeol knew that he was living a dangerous life. It was mostly illegal, though he was good at covering what he needed to so he wouldn't get caught. His group seemed to be relatively trustworthy. But they had always stuck to domestic deals, never dealing in foreign money or affairs. Chanyeol stared into space.
Three more jobs, he thought, and I'm home free. Fully funded program... rent paid through... I can get a regular part-time. And I can walk away from this forever.
So why was there a sense of dread covering his whole being?
And why did he have the worst damn headache?
Agent 12 was incredibly mean.
Well, mean may not be the correct word. Good at his job? Of hurting people?
I cringed as he finally stopped tapping my head with a piece of metal over and over.
"Alright," he said, "you're done for the day. You're improving, finally." I sent him a grimace and rubbed my head, not entirely sure subjecting agents to torture methods was legal...
Actually, along that note I was very sure that this was at least frowned upon...
Free tuition, though my mind whispered and I snorted to myself as I walked down the brightly-lit hallway to grab my things and head home for the day. Yeah, to a school I didn't want to attend. The studio apartment and free groceries are a plus, but the rest of it is making me want to quit.
I was walking past the front desk, ready to check out when I caught a glimpse of Agent 88 in a side room. I immediately perked up and, ignoring my headache, went to talk with him.
"Agent 88!" I chirped, happy to see him after so long. I missed my teammates. "How have the missions been going?" Agent 88 smiled before a conflicted look appeared in his eyes.
"Agent 61," began, "I... I'm sorry, but I can't actually disclose that to you... anymore." He finished with a wince, knowing that this was a sore subject. I felt my face fall as I pouted, but nodded anyway.
"Understood," I said sadly, and Agent 88 patted my shoulder.
"I will disclose that it's not the same without you, though," and he winked before walking down the hallway that I came from, and I smiled. Who says you can't choose your family? I turned and intended to start my walk to the metro before spotting exactly who was sitting in the waiting area, casually conversing with the desk girl who was flirting her off.
Oh my GOD, that's Agent 07!
I whipped myself back around, trying to calm down. Agent 07 was on Team Alpha, the next team I would be assigned to if I ranked up. I tried to do a couple deep breaths, knowing I had to be as red as a tomato. Ever since I started training to be an agent at age 18, Agent 07 had been my inspiration, idol, and crush. The most torturous part about it was that I knew his soulmate mark was also on his collarbone, on the same side as mine, but I had never seen it to know if we matched. Nobody had, and he had remained unbonded my entire time here. Oh God, how I wished it were me. I knew that it was most likely not meant to be, but I was never 100% sure.
I had never looked into Agent 07's eyes. I was too shy, and I also didn't want to be disappointed if we didn't have a connection.
I told myself that after I reached the rank to be assigned to Team Alpha, that I would greet him as an equal and look him in the eye. Until then, however, I would let him be my motivation to get there. I'd be high enough by that point that even if my heart was crushed, I'd have one amazing career to make up for it.
I finally gathered the courage to turn around, acting as if I had just been checking my phone, and swiftly leaving out the underground front door. A few secret elevators later, I finally popped out into the normal world and made my way to the metro station.
The entire ride home, I daydreamed about Agent 07, feeling my cheeks stuck in a perpetual pink. It was bliss in the most painful way.
Which sadly turned to real pain almost as soon as I hit the sidewalk of the road I lived on.
"Ouch," I hissed, hopping on one leg as it felt like my right foot's toes had been hit by something heavy. I limped the rest of the way to my apartment, telling myself that when I met my soulmate, I would smack him for being an idiot. Or kiss every bruise he got if it were Agent 07...
And once again, I found myself smiling about nothing as I made myself egg fried rice, foot still throbbing.
Park Chanyeol regretting thinking " the gym".
He sat on his couch cursing as he pressed ice to his right foot. He usually never lost hold of a weight, but this time he fumbled as he released it and it landed on his toes. It hurt and was a little red, but there didn't seem to be any damage that would prevent him from working tomorrow night. He sighed and decided that his exercise routine would have to end there, opting instead to drag out his GRE study materials.
As Chanyeol set up his desk, he suddenly felt really hungry for egg fried rice. He probably would have dismissed it, but Chanyeol rarely ate or made egg fried rice, so it did strike him as odd.
Pregnant? His brain whispered before he snorted aloud to himself. He was a guy.
But there was a scent wafting through the air, making Chanyeol frown. In all his years living in this apartment, he hadn't ever smelled the neighbors' food. Did the building's ventilation spontaneously develop a hole somewhere? Or did somebody actually move into the apartment below him that had always been empty?
Chanyeol had set his mind to block out the scent and just concentrate when he gasped from a burning feeling on his wrist. Ow! What the- was it oil? He shook his head in annoyance at his soulmate who must have been having quite the day. Pounding headache, oil burns...what was next?
A knife slice. A knife slice was next. Chanyeol let out a groan as his left thumb felt like it had been chopped open and made a mental note to never let his soulmate near a kitchen (since they must be cooking...or at least he hoped that was the case) if they were going to constantly be hurting themselves.
Chanyeol once again steeled himself to start solving sample problems, starting to scribble an equation into his notebook. He solved the second line before he hissed; his fingertips were burning, most likely from more oil.
And that was the last straw for Park Chanyeol.
He stormed into his kitchen, opened the fridge door and shut it on his hand with enough force to be unpleasant, but not damaging. He grabbed a fork from the drawer and whacked it against his forehead over and over and over and over while taking out a frying pan. He let the pan bonk his head a couple times before setting it down and lightly smacking his fingers against the counter, one by one.
Did Chanyeol really want to hurt himself? No. Was it petty? Maybe. But Park Chanyeol had dealt with bull from his soulmate for years and refused to stand for it any longer. He needed to study, damnit! He abandoned the fork and instead resorted to pinching the skin of his arm a bit too tightly before moving to a new spot and repeating the action. He kept up his random, annoying antics for about 5 minutes before settling down in front of his desk again and starting to solve problems, making sure to whack a finger on the edge every so often. Smiling to himself, he kept this behavior well into the night, hoping his soulmate would feel as inconvenienced as he usually did.
Whoever they are...
I finally finished my egg fried rice, feeling victorious after struggling to make it. I side-eyed my bandaged thumb, cursing myself for not making sure all of my knives were sharpened. Dull blades were dangerous and I knew better. I raised some of my rice to my mouth, about to enjoy my delicious first bite, when my hand spasmed from the sudden, dull pain that erupted from my palm. I flinched and my rice scattered.
I sat staring at my rice, a little dumbfounded at the unfortunate timing of my soulmate, but I couldn't say I was surprised. It's like their goal in life is to make mine as inconvenient as possible...
I quickly moved to clean up my mess, but winced and held a hand to my forehead as I felt it take repeated and pinpointed abuse. What the ? I thought, wondering why it felt like I was being whapped with something metal over and over (and I would be too familiar with that feeling). ... Is this... payback for that?
I tried to just block it out, after all, my training was for pain resistance, and readied myself to eat, but then I felt heavy bonks join the incessant tapping and gave a startled yelp. I slammed my hand down, now getting too frustrated to eat.
"What the hell are you doing, you moron?!" I whined, just wanting to finally eat. I lamented to myself about how my day had been going so nicely... successful training, Agent 07, completed homework... and now this. Pinching started up and down my arms and I furiously massaged each spot as I felt it. Agent 07 wouldn't treat me like this, I pouted, now very sure he probably wasn't my soulmate.
My fingers began to sting and that was it. I gave up.
I hauled myself to get ready for bed, no longer very hungry. I climbed in, mood getting progressively worse as I felt my fingers stinging at random intervals. I settled into my sheets, snuggling into my pillow, just about to fall asleep when another finger started to hurt, bringing me away from unconsciousness. I groaned and tried to suffocate myself with my pillow so I could let out a frustrated screech. The pain wasn't that bad, it was just irritating and I never knew when it was coming, making my irritation 10x worse.
If I ever get my hands on you, I will make your life hell, soulmate. You're going to wish you never found me.
Whoever you are.
...
Ouch!
Surprise, it turned into a two-shot! (Maybe... maybe even three-shot bordering on short story by this point... Oops lol, can I ever write anything short?)
Here is Part 1, and I hope it didn't disappoint. Looks like most of the action is going to be in the other section of this.
This is my first work after a longgggggggggg time, bit rough, plot is slammed together, and it actually is lightly edited, though I am a bit dyslexic and bilingual, so... you know... ~words~.
Thank you for reading!
**I apologize for all of the notification updates!!! I'm re-reading to correct awkward sentences and plot holes so the second half actually makes sense and once and a while I find something I have to change. No major events have been shifted in this part**
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