Ever faithful, Pinkie is already at the bus stop, watching people come and go, when Kibum arrives Monday evening. He’s chewing gum again, blowing bubbles every now and then, and it makes Kibum smile to himself. It’s such a mundane thing, but still it gives Kibum a bit of peace seeing an increasingly familiar face doing nothing but take a moment for himself in the middle of a busy place. It relaxes Kibum, which he really needs after the past few days.

“Hey Pinkie,” he greets, tone light.

He doesn’t know why he tries to sound cheerful when Pinkie can’t hear him. He guesses it’s a knee-jerk reaction since he’s been putting up a front for his friends all day.

His weekend has been absolutely craptastic. He hadn’t left his room much since he didn’t want to deal with his parents, which grew tiresome real quick. Luckily for him they take their Guardian duties “seriously” and were out most of the day, leaving Kibum some room to breathe from time to time. Then they came back, and the tense air along with them.

That the Guardian community council, which his father is a part of, had their monthly meeting didn’t make matters better. It made Kibum's father even more irritable since, as always, the council brought up Kibum's shortcomings as a Guardian and demanded him to be disciplined as well as pulled out of school.

But Kibum will fight tooth and nail to stay in university. And his father knows that, which is why they have many heated discussions even though Kibum will never be forced against his will to leave. As much as Kibum is furious with his father sometimes, he does love him a lot and he knows his father loves him as well. They just like butting heads too much over his work as a guardian and how they think life should be enjoyed.

Kibum picks up his daily cluster of fate threads waiting for him on the ground near Pinkie and waits for the few people, who are sitting on the bench beside Pinkie, to leave before he takes a seat and lets out a long breath. He is silent for a moment as he fiddles with the threads, letting himself relax in the repetitive motions of untangling them. He likes the peace between him and Pinkie.

Then his heart drops for a moment as he imagines Pinkie actually picking at one of the fate threads that happened to fall across his lap a few minutes ago. Kibum drops the threads he’s holding and looks up at him fully.

Pinkie’s eyes are still turned away from him and now that Kibum looks closer he realizes he really did imagine Pinkie playing with the thread as it is still lying obediently in his lap and doesn’t seem to have been moved.

Kibum laughs.

“You scared me for a moment there, Pinkie,” he says. “It almost looked as if you were playing with a thread of fate.”

Pinkie closes his eyes and leans his head back against the glass of the cubicle. Kibum watches him for a moment, his eyes travelling over his sharp profile, before he snaps out of it and goes back to untangling the threads in his lap. He feels a little embarrassed staring at Pinkie, but he can’t deny he is pleasing to the eye.

He forces himself to concentrate harder on the tangled threads.

“So,” he starts when he’s almost done with the cluster. “I hope you had a nice weekend. Mine was crappy. I fought with my parents the entire time.”

Pinkie sighs and Kibum smiles to himself.

“Yeah,” he says. “I try my best, what with school and everything, but they want more. I have midterms soon, so I’ve been slacking with my Guardian duties.” Kibum glances at Pinkie. “Well, I’m kind of always slacking with my duties compared to the other Guardians since I actually go to university while they don’t. Everyone else is already working in their family companies and tending to fate threads all day, like the boring people they’ve always been.”

The final knot is untangled and Kibum lets the threads go. He watches them adjust to freedom, an inexplicable feeling welling up in him.

“You know,” he says, “as much as I sometimes wish there were no fate threads, I also wonder what having one feels like. Not that I would know if I had one, since I wouldn’t be a Guardian in that case and able to see it. But meeting your soulmate must feel amazing, don’t you think?”

Pinkie moves and Kibum looks at him questioningly. His heart lodges itself in his throat as his eyes meet Pinkie’s and he swears, in that instant Pinkie is looking right at him, even though he shouldn’t be able to. Then the moment is gone and Pinkie’s gaze continues to shift behind him to an approaching bus.

“Oh, you’re leaving,” Kibum says as Pinkie stands up and goes to the curb of the pavement, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice. “Well, I guess you have no reason to stay.”

The doors to the bus open, but Pinkie does not board. He stands still for so long the bus driver gets impatient and shouts through the door he should get on the bus when he’s already standing at the curb. Kibum can’t see Pinkie’s expression, but he guesses it’s angry judging by the way his shoulders tense up and his fists clench.

Then Pinkie boards, to the continuous muttering of the bus driver, and Kibum watches the bus leave until he can’t see it anymore.

His parents aren’t happy with him coming home late again, even if he tries telling them he was actually taking care of fate threads. They have become more and more skeptical over the days since the problem is always in the same spot, which is highly unusual. They don’t think he is lying, not yet at least, but he can see the doubt in their eyes. He can’t really blame them. It sounds like an excuse even to his ears, especially since they know he would rather be doing something else.

At least they decided they’re not angry with him anymore, which is a small relief.

He doesn’t have much time to enjoy the cleared air before he’s stressed again though, since he has his first day of mid terms tomorrow and has to stay up studying what little he feels unsure about.

He goes to bed that night, head filled with information he has crammed into his brain over the last three hours. His dreams, however, are not.

Instead he dreams of a single, bright red, thread of fate. Its color is so vibrant it looks as if it’s glowing and has a life of its own, like it’s organic, breathing.

He doesn’t know where it came from nor to whom it belongs, but it stands out in stark contrast against all the other normal red threads – which are usually a rich, deep, almost bloodlike, color when healthy – weaving around it. And the normal read threads are not just weaving around the bright red thread. They actually begin to glow with it in its presence, as vibrant and lively as the unusual thread they surround, and it fills Kibum with inexplicable joy.

He wakes up with that feeling still very present in his chest, though the dream is slipping away little by little and soon he’s back to cramming some last minute information into his head before he leaves for university and his first day of exams.

After spending six hours writing his exam, Kibum drags himself out of the exam hall, exhausted and sluggish. He goes invisible almost as soon as he can when he leaves. He doesn’t want to deal with anyone at the moment.

As he makes his way across the campus grounds towards the bus stop, something pink catches his eye and he spots Pinkie at a bench underneath a tree, reading. He hesitates for a moment but decides he doesn’t want to go home yet and changes his course in the direction of Pinkie’s bench.

“Hi Pinkie, is this spot free?” he asks, though Pinkie can’t hear him. It’s more out of courtesy than anything, and after waiting three seconds Kibum takes a seat beside him. “This is the first time I see you anywhere other than the bus stop. Do you go to this university?”

Kibum really shouldn’t be invisible for this conversation, but how will he explain to Pinkie he has had entire, albeit one-sided, conversations with him for the past week? Pinkie will think he’s crazy.

Before Kibum can say anything else to Pinkie, he feels his phone vibrate through his backpack. Pinkie doesn’t notice of course, since whenever Kibum goes invisible, everything on him goes invisible. And everything also becomes soundless. Kibum thinks Guardians really just move to another plane of existence that is somewhere between reality and something ethereal. He thinks that’s where the threads exist as well, which would explain why only the Guardians can see them and touch them when they need to while everyone else don’t notice them.

He guesses it needs some researching – which no Guardian has ever bothered with – to answer but he pushes it to the back of his mind at the moment.

“Oh, sorry,” he tells Pinkie. “My phone’s ringing.”

He rummages through his backpack for a moment before he finally locates his phone. It has stopped ringing by then, but he still pulls it out. He frowns as the screen shows him fifteen missed calls and voicemails from his parents. His phone has been stowed away ever since the beginning of his test so he hasn’t seen it until now.

“Something’s wrong,” he murmurs.

Pinkie shifts as if he’s going to touch Kibum but when Kibum glances back up at him he’s still reading. He shakes his head a little and is about to listen to his voicemails when his phone goes off again.

It’s his mother.

“Hello?” he answers, worry coiling in his stomach.

“Kibum,” his mother says, fear evident in her voice though she is nearly whispering. “Please tell me it’s not you.”

Kibum finds it hard to breathe for some reason.

“It’s not me what?” he asks, his voice breathless with nervous horror.

His mother takes a few deep breaths and he can hear his father in the background, talking urgently with someone.

“A thread of fate has been found a-and–,” his mother says shakily and it takes her a moment to continue. “And it has been severed. Nearly obliterated. The only evidences of it ever existing are the small knots at the ring fingers of its owners.”

Kibum's entire body grows cold and he’s not sure he’s breathing anymore.

“What?” he croaks.

“Please tell me this is not something of your doing,” his mother pleads. “The other guardians are already demanding a hearing for you. Your resistance for our ancestry is well known Kibum, so please, please, tell me it isn’t you.”

Kibum tries to speak, but his throat is too dry. He swallows a few times and finally manages to get out a:

“It’s not me mom.”

A relieved sob leaves his mother.

“I believe you, honey,” she says. “And whatever happens, just know that I will stand by your side. Just… stay at school for a little while. Some of the other Guardians are here and they’re a little aggressive.”

A tear escapes Kibum's eye and runs down his cheek. He hasn’t even noticed his vision going blurry, but he realizes he can’t see anything anymore except colors meshed together.

“Okay,” he whispers and tries to swallow the lump of tears in his throat. “Thanks mom.”

He hangs up and stares down at his phone, a few of his tears raining down on it.

“,” he says, barely audible, and takes a shaky breath. “How is that possible?”

“Uhm.”

Kibum nearly jumps out of his skin and turns with a wildly beating heart to Pinkie, who is definitely looking right at him this time. Kibum blinks a few times; dislodging the few tears left in his eyes, though they are now drying up quickly with shock.

Has he somehow turned visible again? No, that can’t be it. He still feels invisibility tingling at the edges of his skin.

“I realize you must be shocked,” Pinkie starts and puts his book down beside him. “But–”

He doesn’t get further before Kibum launches himself at him and tackles him to the ground. He sits on Pinkie’s stomach and pins his arms to his side with his knees, one hand grabbing the front of his shirt and the other raised, fist closed and ready to punch.

Pinkie’s eyes are wide and stunned.

“Uh,” he gets out in a half groan, half gulp.

“Who are you?” Kibum growls. “And how can you see me?”

Pinkie swallows.

“I’m… Pinkie?” he offers.

Kibum narrows his eyes and raises his fist a little higher.

“How do you know that nickname?” he demands. Then a thought hits him and his stomach drops. “Is it you?”

Pinkie frowns.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The thread of fate!” Kibum snarls. “Are you the one who severed it?!”

“You mean those red strings that are everywhere?” Pinkie asks. “No, I haven’t done anything to them except tangling them into impossible clusters for you to untangle.”

Kibum's jaw clenches.

“You’re the reason there has always been a ball of fate threads at the bus stop?” he rumbles. “Why on earth would you do that?! Do you know how much damage you can cause by doing that?!”

Pinkie actually looks apologetic at this.

“Oh… no,” he says sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

Kibum narrows his eyes and stares Pinkie down but Pinkie meets his gaze, unwavering, so he decides to give him the benefit of the doubt and gets off to let him sit up. Only then does it hit him that to any outsider it would have looked really weird when Pinkie was suddenly thrown to the ground. Kibum does a quick scan of their surroundings and finds to his relief that no one is paying them, or rather Pinkie, any attention.

Pinkie gets to his feet and brushes some grass off his jeans. Kibum crosses his arms and glares at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. Pinkie doesn’t seem to understand what Kibum wants because he simply smiles at him when he notices his stare.

Kibum makes an impatient noise.

“Explain yourself,” he orders. “Have you been able to see me, see the threads of fate, this entire time?”

Pinkie rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well, yeah…” he says with a shrug. “They’ve been there ever since I can remember. You on the other hand, I didn’t notice until about two months ago.”

“Two months ago?” Kibum repeats incredulously. “Are you stalking me?”

Pinkie puts his hands up in defense as Kibum takes a threatening step forward, and that’s when he sees it – what has been off about Pinkie’s appearance from the very beginning. It is so plainly in the open that it is easily overlooked if one doesn’t pay attention.

He forgets to be angry as he grabs Pinkie’s left arm and brings his hand to eyelevel.

“Wha–?” is all Pinkie manages to say.

“You don’t have a thread of fate,” Kibum says.

Pinkie blinks and looks at his own hand. Then he frowns.

“Huh…” he says, sounding confused.

“What are you?” Kibum murmurs. “You can’t be a guardian, I’ve never seen you before.”

Pinkie tears his eyes away from his hand and looks at Kibum. Then he sighs.

“If I explain, do you promise not to try hitting me again?”

Kibum narrows his eyes but gives a terse nod. Pinkie smiles softly and gestures to the bench. They both sit down again and Pinkie takes a deep breath.

“Well, first of all,” he says. “My name’s not Pinkie. It’s Jonghyun.”

Kibum raises his eyebrows but remains silent.

“Second,” he continues. “I haven’t been stalking you. I’ve just seen you around, both visible and invisible. That first time you came across one of my little projects I didn’t expect you to actually untangle it. Then it kind of just continued from there.”

Kibum purses his mouth.

“Why did you pretend you couldn’t see me?”

Pinkie – wait – Jonghyun shrugs.

“Because I don’t think you would have talked to me like you did otherwise,” he says. “I’ve wanted to get to know you for some time and I just… choked when you actually appeared and talked to me that first time and then I didn’t know how to let you know I could see the threads and you and it just snowballed from there.”

Kibum takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Great,” he mutters. “So I’ve just been ranting to a complete stranger about my problems in the stupid belief you couldn’t hear me. That’s great. Really.”

Jonghyun has the courtesy to look guilty at this.

“I really am sorry,” he says, voice and expression earnest.

Kibum considers him for a second. He does seem like a nice person, so Kibum allows himself to doubt he had anything to do with the severed fate thread.

The thought brings another wave of cold over him and he puts his arms around himself, fighting a shiver. How could someone do something like that? What would happen to the two soulmates now?

“It’s fine, I guess,” he says quietly, closing his eyes briefly.

Jonghyun shifts a little, then moves closer and places a hand on his back.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

Kibum is about to tell him he’s fine. But the words die in his throat when he looks up at Jonghyun and he finds he can’t lie to him.

“No,” he whispers. “I’m not.”

Jonghyun nods, expression grave.

“Do you want to tell me?”

Kibum lets out a humorless laugh.

“Well, since I’ve already told you everything else, why not?” he mutters and glances at Jonghyun who frowns. He points at the fate threads all around them, shifting and adjusting to the movements of their owners. “You see those red threads, right?”

Jonghyun eyes follows his finger and he nods.

“Those are called threads of fate,” Kibum explains. “They bind two people together by their left ring fingers, which make them soulmates.”

Jonghyun frowns again and looks down at his own left hand.

“Yeah, I think you mentioned something about it when you thought I wasn’t listening,” he admits. “You also said something about being a guardian.”

Kibum nods.

“Right. The Guardians take care of the threads and make sure they are healthy, as the threads can tangle and get caught on stuff,” Kibum says. “They are supposed to be indestructible but… My mom just told m-me…” He falters and takes a shaky breath. “Today a fate thread was found… severed. It has never happened in all of human history and I just don’t… I’m scared.”

“Oh,” Jonghyun breathes. “Did your mom think you did it?”

Kibum blinks at him and Jonghyun smiles faintly.

“Well, I only heard your side of the conversation, but it sounded like she asked if it was your fault,” he explains.

Kibum swallows harshly, cold spreading through his veins.

“Yeah,” he croaks. “In our community I’m well known for not wanting to be a Guardian and not taking my duties seriously. I suppose it is logical for the majority to suspect me. I’m sure many of them have heard me say I wish there were no fate threads on several occasions. But I didn’t mean I wanted them to be destroyed. I never wanted this.”

Jonghyun hums.

“And I’ve stayed out late almost every day this past week, which they most likely will think is suspicious too,” Kibum continues. “They might even have a hearing for me.”

Jonghyun picks at his book for a moment as silence falls, fiddling with the cover, and Kibum stares out at the campus grounds, not really seeing.

“Take me with you then,” Jonghyun says suddenly, as if it is the most obvious solution.

Startled, Kibum turns wide eyes to him.

“What?”

“Take me with you and I’ll tell everyone you were with me,” he says. “It’s not like I’m lying.”

Kibum stares at him in disbelief.

“Why would you do that?” he asks. “You don’t know me.”

Jonghyun smiles.

“Well, I think I do know you a little at least,” he says. “I didn’t allow you to call me Pinkie and confide in me just for nothing. I already told you I wanted to be friends with you.”

Kibum continues to stare at him.

“I don’t know if I should be scared or thankful,” he says bluntly and Jonghyun laughs. Then a thought occurs to him. “I still don’t know how you can see the fate threads. Or me.”

Jonghyun's smile dies and he shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Like I told you, they’ve been around ever since I can remember. I never knew what they were until you told me the other day. And I just accidentally found out I could actually touch them if I wanted when I was about six.”

Kibum frowns.

“You don’t have a thread of your own, which indicates you must be a guardian,” he says and Jonghyun looks at his own hand again. “But I haven’t seen you at any of our gatherings.”

He narrows his eyes in thought at Jonghyun, who looks back at him sheepishly.

“Who are your parents?” Kibum asks.

Jonghyun freezes for a second and all emotion leaves his face. Then he opens and closes his mouth a few times and Kibum wonders why that question is so difficult.

“I… I’m an orphan…” Jonghyun says finally and Kibum's heart drops.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” he says softly. “Sorry.”

Jonghyun shakes his head.

“It’s all right,” he says. “It’s not like it’s a big deal. I never knew my parents, so I didn’t lose as much as some of the other kids in my old orphanage.”

Kibum doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything at all.

“So, are we going?” Jonghyun asks.

Kibum grimaces and his heart feels heavy.

“Not yet,” he says, sorrow clear in his voice. “My mom said some of the other Guardians were at our apartment and they were a bit aggressive. She told me to wait a little before I return.”

Jonghyun looks shocked and Kibum shrugs.

“I haven’t done much to earn the benefit of doubt to be honest,” he mutters.

Jonghyun falls silent, a deep frown etched into his forehead.

“I think they’re a little quick to judge,” he says then.

Kibum snorts.

“Maybe you’re quick to judge,” he retorts. “You don’t even know my name and yet you’re ready to defend me in front of all of them.”

Jonghyun blinks at him as if he just realized.

“Then, what’s your name?” he asks.

A smile spreads on Kibum's face and he laughs a little.

“Kibum,” he answers softly.

Jonghyun grins at him and holds out his hand. Kibum shakes his head a little but takes it. Jonghyun's hand is warm and firm.

“Nice to meet you Kibum,” he says and Kibum really thinks he’s just made a great friend.

A/N: I don't know why, but this story is just running away with me. Maybe it's because it's been a while since I've written jongkey.

Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! I did make an effort to proofread this (yay for me!) but I can't say it's flawless Dx

Okay, love to all of you <3

Bye~