To Wen Junhui,

I wonder how long it'll be until you get this. Will you even get it in this life? I hope you get it towards the end of this life. I don’t want this to burden you.

There’s a Chinese proverb that says “An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, despite the time, the place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.” Do you remember it?

Not everyone has a red-thread soulmate. Most people don’t. But I did.

This is our tale.

❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

I was walking down a street in Manhattan in late June. This was two and a half years ago. I was looking at my phone, texting Mingyu, my older brother. He was talking about another boy while I warned him to be careful. He had just broken up with his boyfriend. He had cried for days while I comforted him. Me, a senior at the time, comforting his older brother who’s in graduate school. It was quite exhausting for me, and it broke my heart to see him like that. 

But moving on from my brother's issues. I was walking and looking at my phone and definitely not looking where I was going when I crashed into a street light. I yelped in pain and started to rub my nose, which had taken a large part of the impact. That’s when I heard a giggle. I turned towards the giggler, still rubbing my throbbing nose.

It was a boy. A boy who looked to be my age with light brown hair and dark brown, almost black eyes. Sound familiar? Your hair was dark brown when I last saw you. Is it still brown, or did you dye it again? I remember being captivated by your laugh before anything else though. Your laugh, then your smile, then everything about you.

You tried to stifle your laughter when I turned towards you, but you only started laughing more. I pouted as you caught your breath. You finally composed yourself after a couple moments. You straightened, then you locked eyes with me.

I recognized you.

I had this dream for months before that fateful encounter. I was standing in a clearing, surrounded by fog. I’d see a figure in the fog, and I’d have this urge to get to him. I needed to see his face, I needed to hold him. I’d start to run towards him, but a wall of roses would sprout and block my path with their thorns.

The same dream for months, except for the last one. The dream the day before I ran into that stupid street light.

It started the same way it always did. I was in the clearing, surrounded by fog, and I needed to get to that figure. I ran, like I always did, and the roses blocked my path like they always did. This time, however, the figure started to walk to me. He stopped at the other side of the wall of roses. I reached a hand through a gap in the vines. He looked at my outstretched hand. Then he grasped it in his hand.

I saw his face.

It was you.

I saw it in your eyes too. The recognition. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Then you grinned.

“Took you long enough,” you said. “Come on, let’s go get some snacks.” You started to walk off, and I could only stand and stare. You paused and turned around. “Come on!” you said brightly, grabbing my hand. You started to pull me along. “What’s your name?” you asked.

“Minghao.” I muttered.

“I’m Junhui,” you chirped. You dragged me inside a pastry shop. You ordered a cinnamon roll. I got a croissant.

“Why do I feel like I already know you?” I mumbled as we sat. You blinked.

“Maybe we do,” you said simply. You smiled at me, and I knew I was a goner. Everything about you… I felt like I already knew you. I was already starting to fall for you, and I knew even then that I’d go through any pain as long as you were happy.

We talked for hours. You have a younger brother, Wonwoo, and a cat, Smokey. You love pastries, especially cinnamon rolls. Fitting. Your favorite color is pastel blue. You can play piano. 

We exchanged phone numbers and parted ways.

We texted each other, met up with each other, talked with each other. Those were the best times of my life. You were sweet and cheeky and playful and optimistic while I was quiet and sassy and cynical. We never said we were a couple. We just… were. We fit, we matched, we were two parts of a whole. I couldn’t imagine a life without you, I couldn’t understand how I had lived without you. I suppose I hadn’t really lived. I had only been surviving. With you, I really lived. Life was full of beauty, the colors of the world were brighter than ever, everything seemed perfect.

It all sounds so cliche, sappy, fake. I promise you, none of it was fake. We really fit like two puzzle pieces. We completed each other.

Until I ruined everything.

We were at a carnival. We had been together for a two years. After a day full of fun and cotton candy, we went to a stall adorned with red tassels and gold decorations. You became captivated by two bracelets made from red thread. The man who ran the stall watched you with a curious look on his face.

“Do you know the story of the red thread?” he asked suddenly. You looked up and at him. We shook our heads. “The story goes that the gods tie a red thread around the ankles or little finger, depending on who you ask, of those that are destined to meet, The two are destined lovers, similar to the Western concept of soulmates. No matter the time, place, or circumstance, they will always find each other. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.” He smiled. “Of course, it’s only a story.”

You looked at the two bracelets again. You picked them up and walked over to him. “How much are they?” you asked tentatively. The man looked at you, then me.

“Take them; they’re yours,” he said with a smile. You shook your head.

“Oh no, I can’t do that,” you said. He kept smiling. He closed your hand around the two bracelets.

“They’re yours,” he said. You hesitated. Then you looked at me. I didn’t respond immediately. I had a suspicion as to why he gave them to us.

I wonder if you knew too.

“Come on, Junhui,” I whispered after a few moments. “We have to go back.” You hesitated again, then nodded. You gave me one of the bracelets, and I slipped it around my wrist. I watched you do the same.

Do you still have that bracelet? Are you still wearing it? I’m still wearing mine.

I glanced at the man again. Then I looked at you. “Here,” I said, handing you a few dollars. “Can you go get some more cotton candy?” You grinned and took the money. You started to run off, but then you paused. You looked at the man.

“I’m Junhui, and that’s Minghao. What’s your name?” you asked.

“Seungkwan,” he replied. You smiled at him.

“Thank you, Seungkwan,” you said happily. You ran off, and I turned towards him.