prompt credit to silentpeaches on tumblr - 

If you’re on separate time zones, when you sleep, you see the world in the eyes of your soulmate at present time. You see the world through your soulmate’s eyes, what they’re eating, who they’re talking to, the contents of the essay paper they’re trying to finish, but if they look into a mirror/reflective surface/picture, the image is blurred so you don’t really have a clue what they look like.

 

 

//Jongdae//

Even if no one says it, it’s always implied that your fifteenth birthday is the most important one. 
I remember mine like it was yesterday, and then the day after, when I couldn’t ignore the way my mum’s face fell when she realised I was different to 60% of other fifteen year olds. To be honest, not getting any dreams straight away didn’t bother me, and after all, Yixing hadn’t had any dreams either – yet I definitely couldn’t ignore it after overhearing her whispering to my dad. “It just… it had to be him, didn’t it? What if he doesn’t actually have a soulmate?”
I spent months worrying about it. Yixing tried to console me, telling me it was okay, but even when he turned sixteen he started getting his dreams. At the same time, the little Korean boy who had just moved in across the street started having dreams too. His name is Baekhyun. You can guess what happened to them after that, anyway.
Even that great oaf Chanyeol started having dreams a few months after his own fifteenth birthday. I still can’t stand to look at him and his boyfriend Kyungsoo as they share noodle kisses every lunchtime in the school canteen. If he, the tallest and most uncoordinated boy in our school has a soulmate (who is tiny and pretty and obnoxiously good at singing), then surely I should have one too?
But, the years passed, and to this day I’ve still never dreamt. I’m turning twenty soon. Five years on and there’s still nothing. My mum watches me anxiously every morning, sat bolt upright at the breakfast table, fiddling with her own soulmate bracelet around her wrist. The matching one hangs round my dad’s wrist, but mine and its pair sit in the back of my wardrobe, collecting dust. She sits there, biting her lip, waiting for the day that I come running down the stairs and tell her all about the lovely dream I had last night. But as time wears on, and I still don’t, I see her shoulders become more hunched and she doesn’t bother so often anymore. She just sits there, inhaling her coffee. Dad rubs her shoulder. I think she’s taking it worse than me.
After all, there’s still hope, right? I mean… I hope so. Zitao still hasn’t got his soulmate, either. I just hope it doesn’t mean I don’t have a soulmate. There have been occurrences of that, of course. It usually doesn’t end well, though. It usually ends in reclusiveness, and a slow and lonely death. Not a life I’d like to live, thanks very much. But if it suits Zitao, then that’s good for him. But it doesn’t suit me.

//Minseok//

I wake up, yawning. Another mostly restless and dreamless night. Bordering twenty-two and still no dreams.
Dreams.
The worldwide concept of how to find true love.
Sometimes I wonder if I actually ever turned fifteen. I look in the mirror, and poke my round baby cheeks, and my soft jawline, and sigh. There is no other explanation. I must be living in some kind of time loop of the day before my fifteenth birthday, the day when my life should’ve changed. The day when I should’ve got my unique insight into my other half’s life.
But it didn’t happen.
It’s been seven years. Seven years and nothing. I don’t like to entertain the idea I don’t have a soulmate at all, so I stay positive. I live my life free of the burden of worrying about it, and change the subject when people start to ask about it.
Luhan understands at least. His is a situation which in my opinion is worse than not having a soulmate altogether – his soulmate, who we discovered goes by the name of Sehun, and lives here in Korea somewhere, has already found his own soulmate. A boy called Jongin. Jongin also dreamt of Sehun. But Sehun did not dream of Luhan, ever.
Anyway. Enough moping on that subject. I’ve got a job to start. It’s the twentieth of September, and I have to get up at least an hour or so earlier. It’s a job in Seoul, which requires me to take a half an hour drive into the city. I have never been able to stand driving so early in the morning, in the middle of rush hour traffic, but the pay is good, and I need to learn to pay my own mortgage somehow. So it’s worth it, I guess. It means Luhan and I can move into a flat of our own together and escape the burden of our parents’ disappointment. We don’t have to watch them constantly worrying about our lack of a soulmate. Personally, I don’t think it’s a big deal.
As I lace up my shoes, a weird sense of déjà vu washes over me. Like someone is watching me. I eye my reflection in the mirror sternly, and shrug it off. It must be first day nerves. But it’s weird… I’ve never felt like someone else is breathing in sync with me when I’m nervous before. Huh. I must have a fever or something. Maybe the early start is getting to me.
I actually work in Incheon airport. I’ve no idea how I landed the job, but seeing as I’m not a pilot I suppose I didn’t really need to have any previous experience. I literally just have to make sure no one is smuggling anything suspicious onto the planes, and that’s it. Probably the most monotonous job available, but I can people watch, and that’s satisfying enough. Sometimes I make a mental tally of how many people come through with fake nails as long as the stilettoes they’re stuffing  their swollen feet into, and how many red faced and sweaty men are escorted off the premises. On good days, I can’t count on two hands the amount of pretty foreign girls that eye me up as they pass through on their way to a plane that will take them halfway round the world and home.
“Hello, Sir.”
“Have a nice day, Sir.”
Soon enough, the clock ticks around to the end of my shift, and it’s just as well because I can feel my eyelids starting to drop. The bright white airport lights blind me as I drag myself sluggishly out of the airport, waving goodbye to Junmyeon as he sits by the door of the airport, waiting for the flight from Canada to land. I watch him, phone clutched tightly in his hand and sunglasses slipping down his face as he nods off. My stomach clenches. I know his soulmate is on that flight.
The drive home is slow and tedious, so as soon as I’ve closed the door to my shared apartment, I stick my head round Luhan’s door to let him know I’m home, throw my clothes off and snuggle under my bedcovers. I yawn wildly. The warmth of the covers engulfs me and swallows me up, trapping into a deep, and certainly welcome, sleep.

The sound of popcorn makes me jump. At this hour, I shouldn’t really be making popcorn, but I wanted to watch a movie, and sometimes late night cravings get to you. Besides, the smell of caramel popcorn is rich and fills my nostrils with an enticing smell. I inhale deeply. “Oh, popcorn~” I sing to myself. I made enough to fill a large mixing bowl, and pull the hoodie of my onesie up as I carry it into the lounge where I have my movie set up. Frowning, I close the curtains. I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me.

I bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. The neon glow on my alarm clock tells me the time is almost midnight. I’ve only been asleep for a couple of hours. My mind is racing, and sweat drips down my face thickly like I’ve just walked outside in a downpour. I fan myself. What just happened?
I try to recall. I seemed to be having a dream… a dream.
Instinctively, I know what it was. A dream… through someone else’s eyes.
Seven years.

//Jongdae//
 
. . I flail around, grabbing clothes from the floor and throwing them on. I managed to sleep through my alarm, and that little Luhan didn't wake me up. I trip over my own feet as I stumble into the kitchen, catching my elbow on the bench as I fall. Cursing, I grab some fruit from the bowl as I pull myself up, use one of yesterday’s glasses to pour myself a drink, and then run into the hall. Water spills down my front as I chug the drink down frantically. Suddenly remembering I still haven't brushed my hair, I glance into the mirror in the hall -

I sit up, gasping. The clock reads 6:30am in harsh, orange letters that illuminate the room in an eerie orange glow. I settle down to go to sleep again - my alarm doesn't go off for another two hours - but I can't shake away that dream. The image sticks in my head, screaming at me. It seemed like a pretty normal dream to me, maybe it even was about me. Trying to warn me not to be late, probably.
Focusing on the black back of my eyelids, I succumb to sleep.

The traffic is a nightmare. Who would have thought that so many people would be outside at 7:30 in the morning? They must all have a death wish. 
“ me,” I mutter to myself as another slow driver pulls into the lane in front of me. Tentatively, I lean on my horn. “Go, go!” I shout, even though they can't hear me. They rumble along at their own pace, obviously in no rush.
I bang my head against the steering wheel, groaning. I'm going to get shot, or worse, fired, at this rate. Checking the rear view mirror, I decide it's clear enough for me to pull out and overtake -

Again. I bolt upright, out of breath. 6:36am, the clock reads now. I groan. “What's wrong with me?” I think aloud. I play over the dream in my head, trying to figure out if there was some nightmare element that shocked me, but nothing comes to mind. There was just road rage, and a blurry mirror…
Wait.
It hits me like a fifty mile an hour truck. A wave of sudden realisation slams into me, and I start to feel sick. Winded. Light headed. I switch the light on, trying to catch my breath. My hands are shaking madly. 
Knowing my soulmate really exists so suddenly, so out of the blue, is something I'm struggling to comprehend. Why now, after five years? 
The blurry image of their face is tattooed on the back of my eyelids. I wish I could see his face for real. Already, I feel a pull towards somewhere, like someone has a rope around my heart and is dragging me towards them. It's harsh, and it hurts. Like a desperate thirst that needs to be quenched. It's making me anxious already. 
Someone out there is really meant for me. All that's left to figure out now is where?

//Xiumin//

“Are you okay, Minseok?” Junmyeon approaches my desk, looking concerned. 
My fingers stop ripping at the piece of paper I’m holding. “What? Oh, I'm fine thanks.” I say cheerily, tapping my fingers on the desk. 
Junmyeon raises an eyebrow at me in disbelief. “Are you sure?”
I bounce on my toes gently. “Yes?”
“It's just… you look a little - how shall I put it? Preoccupied.” 
I frown. “Yeah?”
He puts his hands on mine, stopping my fingers from tapping against the desk. “Yeah. The constant movement, the flushed cheeks, the sweat. Minseok…”
My eyes widen. “Do you think I'm doing drugs?” 
Might as well be, to be quite honest. I've been unable to focus on anything since this morning, as if my mind is anywhere but inside my head. I can't bear to be doing the same thing for more than half an hour, and also I seem to be craving chinese food. It's really weird, because I don't especially like chinese food, but now I can't get enough of it. Luhan happily cooks it for me, but he thinks I'm ill. Because I haven't told him about the dreams yet. 
Junmyeon smiles awkwardly. “Well… Kris was concerned.” 
I look over Junmyeon’s shoulder and make eye contact with his Canadian (and frankly, weird) soulmate-come-boyfriend who is lounging on the chairs opposite my desk. His lanky frame stretches across five chairs, and he's getting quiet glares from a woman stood by the window. Kris smiles bashfully, and shrugs. I roll my eyes.
“Seriously. I’m fine.” I reassure him, and reluctantly, Junmyeon releases my hands. They immediately go back to tapping incessantly on the desk top. They play a tune I've never heard before, but I feel like I remember it. 

Later, I remember where it's from. 

Tonight, no movie takes my fancy, so I open my laptop. Time to dust off some old recordings. The folder is stuffed with bits and pieces, from quick thirty second experiments and full length songs. My latest project, song number 107, is still unfinished. I open it. The melody is soft, yet slightly jumpy. It takes me a while to figure out how to smoothen out the creases. But then, the beat is finished, and now all I have to do is add the lyrics. I press play. A strong, yet soft beat starts. I close my eyes, and the lyrics start to come to me. Feeling inspired, I grab my notebook. 

My eyes snap open, blinded by the darkness. That song… that tune… 

Have I got time to record the vocals? The clock reads 10:30pm, so I think so. It takes no time at all to set up the microphone, and soon enough I'm ready to press record. 

“...Every day,
I look for you in the dream…
But you look at me as if it’s the first time…”

“He’s dreaming…”

I take my headphones off and sling them round my neck with a sigh. I tug at the curtain, gazing out across the twinkling lights of the city.
Somewhere, out there, I really hope he's dreaming.

-

I rub my eyes tiredly. The dull ache in my chest weighs me down, and I force myself down the corridor to the coffee machine, desperately needing a pick me up.
I yawn.
For two months, I've barely had a decent night's sleep. Falling asleep only to be woken two hours later by a body wrecked with thoughts from someone else's head. 
My head knocks against the coffee machine with a loud crack as I fall asleep on my feet. Junmyeon rushes over, terrified. 
“Minseok! Are you okay?” he says, holding onto my arm as if he's holding onto my entire existence. 
My eyelids feel heavy, and I wobble. Junmyeon looks anxious, and leads me to a seat opposite lanky-boyfriend-Kris. 
“I'm f..ine,” I say, caught off guard by another intense yawn. “Just a little tired, that's all.” 
Kris snorts. “A little tired?” Junmyeon exclaims. “A little? This is the third time I've caught you falling asleep at work! You almost fell down the stairs yesterday! If it weren't for me and Kris, I dread to think -”
Kris places a hand on his hysterical boyfriend’s knee. “What he is trying to say is, are you getting enough sleep?” 
I sigh, ringing my hands. And I tell them: how, two months ago, I finally started to have dreams. And how now I can't escape them. Junmyeon listens intently, a thoughtful look resting on his face. 
He nods when I've finished. “You need to meet your soulmate.” he states.
I snort. No way. “There's a hell of a lot of people in this world, Junmyeon, do you expect me to ask all of them individually? Oh hi, you might be my soulmate. It's not exactly a great ice breaker, is it.” 
Junmyeon laughs, and Kris hands me my cup of coffee that I almost finished making before. I gulp it down, suddenly thirsty, and am relieved to feel it slip down my throat. Instantly, I feel more awake. 
“No, Minseok. What about communicating through your dreams?”
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
Kris throws an arm around Junmyeon. “How do you think we met? Junmyeon had barely even heard of Canada, let alone been there.” 
“I'm not that bad at Geography!” Junmyeon protests.
“Babe, you thought Bangladesh was a city.” 
I snort. “And you work in an airport too.” 
Junmyeon huffs. “ANYWAY, Kris wrote a note. Figured out I was somewhere in Asia from the types of things I did that he saw. Figured out when I'd be dreaming, when I’d see the note. And now… well you know how it worked out.”
I nod. It ended in a blissful couple who are totally loved up. Everything I've wanted - everything I still want. I frown, considering it for a moment. It seems simple enough, but actually figuring out when to write the note… how am I supposed to know? I’ve never been good at these kind of things. My mind isn't great at